“I—” Brodie’s mouth snapped shut. For the first time, raw emotion gripped his features. He looked down to his scuffed black boots, and then determination had his gaze swinging up. “Not yet, but we will.”

Well, that was an odd reaction. A black town car glided under the portico, and as her bodyguards moved to open the door, she couldn’t help noticing the way people stopped and watched.

Probably wondering if I’m some famous American actor.

Not only didn’t she want to draw attention to herself, she actually liked that Brodie never showed any deference towards her. It was…freeing.

And that’s exactly what I’m here for.

She couldn’t pull herself together while inhabiting everything that made her Marcel’s fiancée and Fabiana’s boss and friend. She needed a complete change.

“My bike’s parked just over there,” Brodie said. “Hang on.”

“Whoa,” Gustav said. “What kind of motorcycle is that?”

Brodie’s gruff demeanor cracked, exposing the teenage boy underneath. “Triumph Rocket.”

It was sleek, black, with shiny chrome features. It looked dangerous and wicked, and…

I want to ride it.

“That is badass.” Gustav gawked. “What kind of horsepower?”

“Hundred forty-eight.”

“Damn, that’s sweet.”

Harrison swatted the back of the younger man’s head, and Gustav instantly turned serious. “Sorry.” Back in security mode, he scanned the area, but he couldn’t hide his awe as he took in the boardwalks and costumed actors.

Brodie waved his keys. “Back in a second.” He started off, his long-legged gait powerful. He had an athletic grace and an air of fearlessness that captivated her.

He was her Pied Piper, only instead of a boy, he was a testosterone-charged man. And she wanted to follow. “Wait.”

He turned around but kept walking backwards.

“I’d like to ride with you.”

“Rosalina.” Harrison’s tone held a warning she realized she never wanted to hear again as long as she lived.

But Brodie’s grin was pure challenge. “You want to ride the beast?”

“Maybe another time,” Harrison said. “We’ve got to get her to the fitting in one piece.”

“Oh, I’ll get her there safely.” The growl in his voice made her want to knock those mirrored aviators right off so she could see the challenge in his eyes. “She just might not look so…” He waved a hand at either side of his head. “Princessy. What do you say, Rosie? You gonna ride with me?”

His assumption that she was some frail, sheltered socialite made her want to snatch the keys out of his hand and take off by herself. But, while she’d done her share of dirt biking, she’d never ridden a motorcycle.

“Okay, sir, I know you do things differently here,” Harrison said. “But she’s the princess of St. Christophe—”

“No.” She cut him off. “Here, I’m Rosie.”

His initial surprise settled into concern, but Brodie gave her an approving smile.