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met for a second time, electricity zipped up his arm and diffused throughout his body, leaving behind a restless heat. Though her fingers were tiny compared to his, her grip was firm. And the way her smooth skin slid against his calluses made him glad he was standing behind a counter.
    Her hand in his felt . . .
    God, he didn’t know. Like it somehow belonged there. Even though that feeling didn’t make a lick of sense—and was, in fact, the absolute last thing he wanted.
    He chose to ignore the warning sirens screaming in his brain. “We have a deal,” he told her. “When do you want to start your first lesson?”

3
    A fter a quick trip to the back room, Chris returned with a water bottle.
    â€œHere.” He thrust it into Sarah’s hand. “Drink this. It’s hot out there.”
    Surprised at the thoughtful gesture, she uncapped the bottle and took a long, cool sip. Oh, Lord, she’d needed that. Not just because of her time out in the sun, but also because even brief contact with Chris threatened to singe her eyebrows.
    She had to admit it, if only to herself. Upon entering the shop, she’d deliberately brushed up against that broad chest, just for cheap thrills. It was totally worth it. He’d felt incredible. Firm. Strong. Like a ridged wall.
    Jesus, the man was hot enough to melt a glacier. And she was far from an ice queen.
    As she swallowed her water, she shot another quick glance his way. His bike shorts revealed every line of his thickly muscled thighs and his hand on the counter was large and calloused. He had shaggy blond hair streaked by the sun, a strong blade of a nose, and the shadow of a cleft in his chin. She could clearly see the shape of the sunglasses he must have worn during his ride. It was the one area where the grime of the road hadn’t covered that handsome face.
    Though his hands looked clean, he had grease under his fingernails. That evidence of his hard work didn’t bother her. As she’d told her friends, she’d always found capable men attractive. And she’d forgotten all about the grease when his hand had encompassed hers in a strong grip, sending sparks zipping through her bloodstream.
    Up close, he smelled amazing. Not dirty, just . . . sweaty. Like a man who’d just used his body hard, pushing it to its limits. Would he smell that way in bed too?
    Enough , she told herself. You came here in pursuit of another man. Just because Chris Dean looks like the president of the Cranky Studs Bike Club doesn’t mean you should let him distract you. Especially since he’s precisely the sort of man who’s dated and dumped you a dozen times. Make the arrangements for your lessons and leave.
    She capped her bottle and got back to business. “How do you want me to prepare for the first lesson tonight?”
    â€œDepends.” He ducked beneath the counter and emerged with a rag and a spray bottle of disinfectant. Giving the already clean counter a squirt, he began to wipe it down. “How much do you know about riding a bike? Are you just trying to get more comfortable, or are we starting from scratch?”
    â€œPretty much from scratch. My dad gave up teaching me after I became convinced my Strawberry Shortcake two-wheeler was possessed.”
    â€œSo you’ve always been like this,” he muttered under his breath.
    She cast him a suspicious glance. “Like what?”
    â€œNever mind.” He nudged the flyer on the counter. “Tell me more about the event. What do I need to know?”
    â€œIt’s an all-day ride along the canal for faculty and staff at Spring Ridge. According to the e-mails I’ve seen, the path should be pretty flat. Doable even for a beginner.” She shook her head. “Though if Ulysses weren’t going on the trip, I wouldn’t go either.”
    His brows rose. “Ulysses?”
    â€œYes, yes.” She waved a hand. “My friends have already