Read Online Reckless by Ruth Wind - Free Book Online

halt the rush of awareness he aroused. Standing there bathed in the weak white light of a gibbous moon, his hair shone fiercely, and his face was an alluring arrangement of planes and shadows. One high, arched cheekbone and the bridge of his elegant nose caught edges of moonlight.
    She paused, remembering a moment when she was sixteen. She’d been late for class and had rushed to her locker for a forgotten notebook, then rounded a corner at a run. There, in a secluded hallway, had been Jake and his girlfriend, making out. Jake’s hand had covered the sweatered breast of the girl, and she had a nearly delirious expression on her face as he kissed her neck. Petrified and shocked and aroused all at once, Ramona had stared at them for a long minute, mesmerized by those long fingers stroking and teasing and moving over the girl’s flesh.
    Finally, ashamed, she had hurried away, her face burning.
    The memory had lost little of its power over the years, and Ramona felt a familiar heat flood through her.
    As if he noticed nothing amiss, Jake said now, “How about the Moon Café? I hear they have a pretty good Celtic trio. You seem as if you’d be the sort to like Celtic music.”
    She smiled. “I do, but it doesn’t strike me as your kind of thing.”
    â€œOh, really?” He raised a brow. “What would be my kind of thing?”
    Ramona shrugged. “I haven’t thought about it. Something loud.”
    He gave her a pained look and closed the door, then climbed into the driver’s side. “That makes me sound so uncivilized.”
    The car was small and Jake seemed to fill every inch of it. Ramona smelled the same cologne he had used at the reception and inhaled appreciatively. “You do smell good.”
    â€œThanks.” His smile flashed in the darkness, and Ramona reminded herself that he was quite practiced with women. The car, the cologne, the easy, knowing smile. His confidence showed even in the way he drove—too fast, but very much in control—as if the machine were only an extension of his body.
    â€œSo what kind of music do you like?” she asked.
    â€œI think you should guess. No more stereotypes.”
    â€œStereotypes?”
    â€œYou assumed I’d like something loud.”
    Ramona shook her head. “I wasn’t stereotyping any more than you were when you said I seemed the type to like Celtic music.”
    â€œAh, but you do like it, don’t you?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œSo I wasn’t stereotyping. I was making a judgment call about you and what I know of you.” He negotiated a steep, tight curve, then shot an amused glance her way. “You, on the other hand, were making a sweeping generalization.”
    â€œTouché. I was thinking of soldiers and what I used to hear on their car stereos when they went blazing down the street.” She narrowed her eyes. “Let me see, then. Country or bluegrass, maybe?”
    â€œNot my thing, though I don’t mind it.”
    â€œHmm. Blues? Jazz?”
    â€œCloser.”
    Ramona frowned. “I don’t know...you might get excited about some classical, but I have to put my money on fancy guitar.” His face went blank and Ramona knew she’d scored. “Let’s see...you’re a year older than I am...so what? Led Zepplin, ZZ Top, maybe a little old Aerosmith?”
    Jake pulled smoothly into the downtown lot behind the café, then turned off the engine before he spoke. He looked at Ramona and gave her a singularly gorgeous grin. It lit his eyes and warmed his face and kindled a tiny fire in the nether regions of her body.
    â€œPretty good, Doc.” He pulled out a hand-lettered cassette tape, and gave it to her.
    Ramona read the handwriting: La Grange . She laughed. “ZZ Top!”
    â€œPretty adolescent, huh?”
    â€œNot at all. I used to love this. I haven’t heard it in a long time, though. My friends and I used to play