Free Rock Me Two Times by Dawn Ryder Page A

stars,” he answered smoothly. “I’m searching for a loophole. Is a ride on the back of my Harley a date?”
    Oh hell, she’d forgotten about the Harley.
    “Okay, I’m feeling mildly guilty about telling you rule number two. It might also be—only a slight possibility, mind you—discriminatory.”
    “And totally fucking unfair to me,” he hammered home. “You’re rock star–phobic.”
    “In my defense, rule number two was made after dealings with several of your colleagues who thought fittings included bedside service,” Kate said.
    “I waited until I was down to my last pair of pants before calling a costumer in, because I’m sick of getting my package grabbed during fittings,” he responded.
    Touché, again.
    And she was starting to like the guy.
    “You don’t back off, do you?”
    There was a very male sounding grunt on the other end of the line. “You don’t want me to, Kate.”
    “You’re arrogant,” she said, stating the obvious. “Presumptuous.”
    “I’m taking command of the situation,” he countered. “Don’t worry, I’ve been trained.”
    “I notice you aren’t arguing with the arrogant charge.”
    “You’re as turned on as I am.”
    “That might not be a good thing.” As in epic crash and burn on the horizon.
    He took a moment to reply. “It might be an explosive thing. Only one way to find out. Take a ride with me.”
    He was arrogant, but there was something sexy about it. They had more in common than she’d realized.
    She felt the coach slowing down as it exited the interstate. “You’re on.”
    You’re a lunatic…
    “Cool.”
    Kate replaced the slim phone on the wall mount and worried her lower lip for a moment.
    A date.
    She was so screwed.
    And too damned giddy about it.
    * * *
    Showering while rolling down the freeway was going to take a little practice.
    Kate yelped as she cut herself with the razor because she’d lost her balance and twisted it.
    She knocked her head on the upper bunk when she laid her suitcase out in the lower one and tried to find a matching outfit. Everything was a huge mess, because she’d just thrown things indiscriminately into the case. By the time she got dressed, she was flustered and growling.
    At that point they were pulling into the city of Oakland, winding their way through industrial sections of town. Kate saw the concert center in the distance and hurried back to flip her case closed and zip it up. The driver of Kate’s coach rolled up behind the semis into the loading area of the Oracle Arena. Air brakes hissed, echoing off the concrete. A loud whoop came from behind Kate as the band spilled out of their mobile music coach, like kids hearing a recess bell.
    The sun had set several hours ago, but huge floodlights illuminated the loading docks. Even at ten at night, teams of dockworkers converged on the semis. Up on the docks, there were supervisors with tablets, holding black radios up to their ears. The backs of the trucks were opened, and cases marked with “Toxsin” were being wheeled inside as team leaders barked orders.
    “You really had the corset on?” Kate turned to see Syon coming up behind her.
    Syon was staring at her cleavage. There was only a small slice of it on display, because she’d put on a summer cotton top beneath her blouse to act as a chemise. The low, rounded, country girl neckline hugged the tops of her breasts.
    “I prefer a corset over a bra any day.”
    “Your rules suck, but that look rocks,” Ramsey hollered on his way over to one of the semis that wasn’t backed into the loading docks.
    The rest of the band members glanced over at her, curious. A few low whistles came her way, and Syon flipped off the lot of them.
    Taz hopped up on a loading ramp attached to the rear of one of the semis. When the lift reached the top, he stepped into the truck and rolled out a shiny mass of black paint and chrome before hitting the button to lower the lift to the ground.
    “You guys carry your