"Sorry about that. Dog has no manners whatsoever."
I give the furry monster a quick scratch behind the ears and I get a well-behaved canine that promptly lays at my feet and goes to sleep.
The next half hour goes by quickly and Lincoln provides me with an engaging interview. Of course, he can't help by finishing it off with an offer to go out to dinner. I politely decline and he gives me a sad, tortured look. I'm sure that works on a lot of women, but not me. Instead, I give him a professional handshake, thanking him for his time. I do, however, lean over and give the dog a big hug and a goodbye scratch.
Walking back to my car, I glance at my watch. I need to hurry if I want to beat rush hour, although it won't be so bad heading into Manhattan as opposed to coming out.
I get in my little BMW 335i—a high school graduation present from my parents—and put my seatbelt on. I check my phone before heading out. Todd sent me three more texts while I was in Lincoln's condo.
U don't mean that. U still need me.
U need to call me. Now!
Why r u ignoring me?
Reading the last text, I feel an icy shiver go up my spine. Todd is sounding a little unhinged and I'm afraid I might find a dead rabbit in my stew pot when I get home. Gosh, Fatal Attraction was an awesomely creepy movie. I hope that it isn't turning into a real life event for me.
Turning the car on, I look in my rear view and side mirrors. Putting the car in reverse, I start to back out. At the same time, my phone rings and I can see on the screen that it's Danny calling. Keeping one hand on the wheel, I grab the phone and answer it, still backing out of my parking spot.
I barely get the words out, "Hi Danny" when I hear a sickening crunch of metal and my car jolts to a stop.
"Shit!" I yell.
"Are you okay?" Danny asks.
"No," I wail. "I just hit something. I'll call you back."
Looking in my rear view mirror, I can't see anything. I throw my phone down and jump out of my car. Rounding the back corner, I am horrified to see a motorcycle lying on the ground with its driver laying a few feet away. I immediately take in that he appears to be okay as he's getting up from the ground.
My heart is thundering in my chest as the crashing realization that I could have just killed a person sinks into me. My legs start to wobble and my head spins.
"Fuck, lady. Don't you watch where you're going?"
I look at the man who is standing up now and looking down at his bike. He takes his helmet off and throws it to the ground in anger.
I vaguely notice that he glares at me but it's like he's in slow motion. He sounds like he's in a tunnel and his voice is getting fainter when he says, "Hey...are you okay?"
His words say he is concerned but I still have barely enough of my wits to discern his tone of voice says he's still very pissed.
I try to answer him but I can't make my voice work. Then I realize my legs are giving way and I see the ground rushing up to meet me. Before I can hit though, the angry man is there, catching me in his arms. I'm vaguely aware that he picks me up and walks over to a grassy area adjacent to the parking lot where he lays me down very gently.
I can feel him put his palm to my cheek, and he taps it lightly. For some reason, I notice he has what looks like a paper towel duct taped to his finger.
Weird.
The guy stands up and walks away. I start to sit up and before I know it, he's back squatting down beside me. He hands me a bottle of water. "Here, drink this. I had it in my saddle bag."
I take a few sips, and immediately start feeling better. I look back again at the man, and it's like I'm seeing him for the first time.
My mouth goes dry and my skin prickles with awareness. He is unbelievably gorgeous. Almost super model perfection, but with a hint of danger and darkness. His hair is long, coming to rest right above his shoulders. It's a dark, brown color with glints of warm, golden highlights running throughout. His eyes are the color of spring ferns and framed by lashes so thick, I'm briefly jealous. His face is perfection. He has perfectly slashed brows, and a perfectly straight nose, and a perfectly square jaw.
He must have been cut from butter is my first thought. Or marble. Or buttery marble.
Best of all, he has at least a week's worth of dark stubble on his face, which makes him look menacing and sexy all at the same time. I take in with appreciation the tight fit of his Harley Davidson t-shirt and dark jeans, showcasing a lean and well-muscled body. He is the exact opposite of any man I have ever thought of dating, and my mother would consider him the Anti-Christ on just his dark looks alone.
I feel dowdy next to him and my hand subconsciously comes up to smooth my hair.
"Are you injured, Lady?"
I'm dumbfounded looking at him. I'm sure he probably thinks I swallowed my tongue in the accident but I have just been blindsided, by what I believe to be, the most physically splendid specimen of a man I have ever seen.
Seriously.
"Maybe I should call an ambulance," he says.
"Emily."
His eyebrows cinch together in confusion. "Excuse me?"
"My name's not Lady...it's Emily."
He gives me an exasperated look and I swear I hear him grumble, "I don't have time for this shit."
I take another sip of water and I'm feeling much, much better now. The fact that I was so petrified I could have killed someone and then almost fainted has completely left my mind. I'm just sitting here enjoying this magically, hot man in front of me.