“Don’t bother.” He interrupted my hail of the bartender and traced a finger along my jaw. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” I looked around, thrown off guard.

“Yeah, now. Changed your mind, luv?”

There was a challenge in his eyes and a gleam I couldn’t decipher. Not wanting to risk losing him again, I grabbed my purse and gestured to the door.

“Lead the way.”

“No, no.” He grinned chillingly. “Ladies first.”

With several glances over my shoulder, I preceded him into the parking lot. Once outside, he looked expectantly at me.

“Well, get your ride and let’s be off.”

“My ride? I-I don’t have a ride. Where’s your car?” I fought to remain cool, but I was inwardly rattled. This was all off my normal routine and I didn’t like it.

“I drove a bike here. Fancy a ride on it?”

“A motorcycle?” No, that wouldn’t do. No trunk to carry his body in, and I wasn’t about to balance it on the handlebars. Plus, I didn’t know how to ride one. “Umm, we’ll take my vehicle instead. It’s over there.”

As I walked to the truck, I reminded myself to stagger. I hoped he’d think I had been pounding the booze.

“Thought you didn’t have a ride,” he called after me.

I stopped short, turning back at him. Crap, I had said that.

“I forgot it was here, is all,” I lied breezily. “Think I drank too much. You want to drive?”

“No, thanks,” was his immediate response. For some reason, his strong English accent grated on me.

I tried again with a lopsided smile. He had to drive. My weapon was in my right pants leg, since I was always in the passenger seat before.

“Really, I think you should drive. I’m feeling woozy. I’d hate to wrap us around a tree.”

It didn’t work.

“If you just want to beg off until another night…”

“No!” There was desperation in my voice, which raised his eyebrow a notch. “I mean, you’re so good-looking and…” What the hell did one say? “I really, really want to get it on.”