Diego waited with a patience that was new. He’d changed. Grown up. But he’d also known that being on the back of a bike with him would turn her on. She had no idea if he remembered any of their past with the same longing that she did. She looked into his face, trying to read him, but he wasn’t giving anything away. His body was still, all that carefully harnessed and leashed power and control at rest. But then she lifted her gaze to his and sucked in a breath. There was a fire there. And smoke.

And a whole bunch of trouble if she wanted it.

Clearing her throat, she looked down at herself. Thankfully, she was in trousers, but her heels might be a problem. Her blouse was thin, and so was her fitted blazer. Even as she thought it, he shrugged out of his leather jacket and wrapped it around her. Then he took the helmet from her fingers and put it on her head himself, leaning in close with a look of concentration as he attached and adjusted the strap.

While she was still speechless, he did what she hadn’t, he zipped up the jacket, right to her chin, then left his hands on her to straighten the collar. Even when that was done, his warm fingers slid up her neck as their gazes locked.

When her breath caught audibly, his thumbs lightly stroked where her pulse raced at the hollow of her throat.

She wanted another kiss. With a shocking amount of yearning, she wanted that. But Diego dropped his hands and gave a nod of his chin for her to get on.

So, that’s what she did.

“Hold on,” he said, and she slid her arms around his waist and set her chin on his shoulder. As he roared off into the night, she found herself smiling for the first time all day.

He turned his head slightly. “Okay?”

She tightened her grip. “Very.”

* * * *

Thirty minutes later, she watched Diego walk out of the dressing room, a dark scowl on his gorgeously scruffy face, his hair a little bit tousled, giving him an overall wild look that went with the tux shockingly well. He could’ve graced the cover of any bridal magazine, and women the world over would have drooled all over him.

Daisy liked to think that she was above such things, but she closed her mouth just in case.

“No,” he said. “Just, no.”

“What’s no?”

He gestured a hand down his smoking bod. “All of it. It’s not happening. Skinny-leg pants? What, am I a twelve-year-old? And the shirt’s way too tight, I can’t move in it.” He turned to the tailor waiting at nervous attention a few feet away. “What else have you got?”

The guy glanced over at Daisy, the whites of his eyes showing, his silent plea for help practically a scream.

Diego just strode over to the racks. “I’ll find something myself.”