A good reason to be bad…

Librarian Sophie Heyer has walked the straight and narrow her entire life to make up for her mother’s mistakes. But in tiny Jackson Hole, Wyoming, juicy gossip doesn’t just fade away. Falling hard for the sexiest biker who’s ever ridden into town would undo everything she’s worked for. And to add insult to injury, the alluring stranger is none other than Alex Bishop—the son of the man Sophie’s mother abandoned her family for. He may be temptation on wheels, but Sophie’s not looking for trouble!

Maybe Sophie’s buttoned-up facade fools some, but Alex knows a naughty smile when he sees one. Despite their parents’ checkered pasts, he’s willing to take some risks to find out the truth about the town librarian. He figures a little fling might be just the ticket to get his mind off his own family drama. But what he finds underneath Sophie’s prim demeanor might change his world in ways he never expected.

Praise for the novels of USA TODAY bestselling author Victoria Dahl

“Dahl brings her signature potent blend of

heated eroticism and emotional punch to another

Jackson Hole cowboy story, to great success.”

—Kirkus Reviews on So Tough to Tame

“So Tough to Tame was a delicious, funny, warm-hearted read.... Obviously I highly recommend this book.

It’s like a comfort read with a dose of sass and smarts;

it’s just about perfect.”

—Smart Bitches, Trashy Books on So Tough to Tame

“Dahl adds her signature hot sex scenes

and quirky characters to this lively mix of romance

in the high country.”

—Booklist on Too Hot to Handle

“Victoria Dahl never fails to bring the heat.”

—RT Book Reviews on Too Hot to Handle

“Hits the emotional high notes. Rising romance star Dahl delivers with this sizzling contemporary romance.”

—Kirkus Reviews on Close Enough to Touch

“A delightful romance between two people

who struggle to discover their own self-worth.”

—RT Book Reviews on Bad Boys Do

“This is one hot romance.”

—RT Book Reviews on Good Girls Don’t

“A hot and funny story about a woman

many of us can relate to.”

—Salon.com on Crazy for Love

“[A] hands-down winner, a sensual story

filled with memorable characters.”

—Booklist on Start Me Up

“Sassy and smokingly sexy, Talk Me Down is

one delicious joyride of a book.”

—New York Times bestselling author Connie Brockway

Looking for Trouble

Victoria Dahl

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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This is for the women who helped with this book.

Jif, Tessa, Tonda, Kate,

and the Women Who Shall Not Be Named.

I’ll meet all of you at the bar.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER One

CHAPTER Two

CHAPTER Three

CHAPTER Four

CHAPTER Five

CHAPTER Six

CHAPTER Seven

CHAPTER Eight

CHAPTER Nine

CHAPTER Ten

CHAPTER Eleven

CHAPTER Twelve

CHAPTER Thirteen

CHAPTER Fourteen

CHAPTER Fifteen

CHAPTER Sixteen

CHAPTER Seventeen

CHAPTER Eighteen

CHAPTER Nineteen

CHAPTER Twenty

EXTRACT

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

ALEX BISHOP WAS heading toward drunk at 11:00 a.m. on a Wednesday, and he didn’t give a damn. The blond bartender didn’t seem to give a damn either. She brought him another Scotch and pushed it toward him with a wink. Her hand lingered on the glass. “You sure about the burger? We’re pretty famous for them around here.”

“No, but thanks.” He didn’t return the wink. She was pretty, and there was something in her smile that told him she wouldn’t mind a midday fuck against a wall with a man whose name she didn’t know, but Alex might be hitting this bar a lot in the next few days. When two people were looking for nameless sex, neither wanted to hang out with a bar between them for days afterward.

She moved away and he stared into the tumbler of cheap Scotch until the whole world turned amber and bright, then he downed it without a wince. Number three or four, he couldn’t remember, and he didn’t feel even a twinge of shame when he pushed up from the stool and had to steady himself against the bar. He’d done this on purpose, after all. Drunk was the best possible state of mind on his first day home in sixteen years.

He’d hit the road in Idaho before dawn, hoping to beat an afternoon storm rolling in over the Tetons, but he’d skipped coffee, rejecting any more alertness than was required to simply drive. He didn’t want to notice the landscape. Didn’t want to deal with memories triggered by his first taste of central Wyoming since he’d turned eighteen and made himself disappear.

But his willpower wasn’t as strong as his memory, and the emotions had hit like a sledgehammer when he’d made town. Hence the Scotch. The actual people he’d come to see could wait.

Alex threw a generous amount of cash on the bar and walked past the lunch patrons in a carefully straight line. They glanced up from their plates as he passed, but then looked quickly away. He wasn’t the type of guy that people started conversations with. If he put out the right vibes, they avoided him altogether.

But Jackson still greeted him when he opened the door of the motel bar.

The sunlight blasted his weary eyes before he had a chance to slip on shades. Jackson didn’t give a shit that he was drunk, and it didn’t give a shit that he didn’t want to be there. It still threw itself at him, the same old town, hardly changed at all during his long escape. After all, that was its shtick. Old West charm. Historical buildings. Though the no-tell motel he’d chosen at the edge of town was less historical than just old.

He’d picked the place on purpose, eschewing cheer or comfort. He wanted temporary. He wanted an excuse not to unpack so he’d know every single moment he was here that he could grab his bag and ride away in a minute flat.

His lug-soled boots crunched against the gravel lot of the motel, and he remembered now that he’d stayed here once before. But that walk had been at night, in the snow, the moon shining brightly enough to highlight the gorgeous cleavage of the college girl he’d hooked up with at a spring-break house party. It had been her motel room, shared with three other girls, and he’d been thrilled to add to the crowded conditions for a night.

He’d partied a lot back then. Any excuse not to be home with his mom and brother. But he hadn’t been this drunk in a good long while, and there were no spring-break flings awaiting him this time around.

There was only duty and misplaced obligation.

Fucking information age. A generation ago he could have vanished for good. But these days, one job in the wrong place and somebody had recognized him and volunteered family news that he didn’t want.

Like the news that his dad was dead.

Of course, his dad had been dead for twenty-five years. Funny that it was still news.

He actually laughed at that thought, and an older woman getting bags from the trunk of her car shot him a glare of suspicion. He would’ve offered to help, but not only did he look menacing with his buzzed head and three days’ growth of beard, he smelled like hard liquor and hostility, so he walked on.

He’d barely glanced at the room when he’d checked in an hour before, but it looked clean enough as he shucked his leather jacket and toed off his boots. A bed. An ugly bedspread. A dresser that had seen better days. At least it had a nice flat-screen TV. He traveled a lot for his job, and when he was holed up in some remote frontier town for a month, that was really his only requirement in a motel. A nice TV.

When he’d had an apartment for a couple of years, that had been all he’d added to the charm, too. Andrea had tried to bring some nice touches, but it had never become a home. For either of them.

Alex shrugged out of his T-shirt and tossed it on a chair, then headed for the shower. He’d scrub up, sleep off the Scotch for an hour or two, and then he’d finally do what he’d come here to do. He’d go see his family.

He didn’t even know why he’d called his brother after sixteen years away. It’d been nearly two months since Alex had picked up that phone, and he still had no real idea of his motivation. Connection or reconciliation or even gloating over their father’s corpse... All of those together or maybe none of them. But he’d called. And it had been a bad idea.

The first call had gone fine. Shane had sounded relieved and even downright happy to hear from Alex, and Alex couldn’t deny the way his heart had twisted at hearing his older brother’s voice. They’d caught up a little, and Alex had finally heard the whole story about their dad, and that had been that. He’d promised to come by Jackson the next time he was near, but he hadn’t meant it.

He’d decided by then that he was only being sentimental. His mentor had died the year before, and Oz had been the closest thing Alex had to family. Closer than Alex’s actual family. But he wasn’t going to let that loss change his mind about returning to Jackson. He’d learned early on to let things—and people—go, and he’d let his brother go a long time ago.

Then, a week later, Shane had called, and Alex had realized it wasn’t going to go as smooth and easy as he’d hoped. “I’d like you to come back to Jackson for a couple of days,” Shane had said.

Alex had shut him down cold, but Shane wasn’t a kid anymore either, and he’d talked for thirty minutes straight. Somehow Alex had found himself saying he’d try, and then he’d straight-up promised that he’d come.

“Fuck,” he said, stepping into the spray of hot water with a growl. A goddamn memorial service for a man who’d been dead twenty-five years. A way for his mom and brother to hold on to the man a little longer.

Sure, Shane had apologized. He’d sworn that things had changed. Even their mother was getting better, he’d claimed. In fact, this service would help her close the door on her obsession forever. This was the end of it, for everyone.

That was the only reason Alex had come. To end this. And if Shane was for real, maybe they could talk a couple of times a year. Meet up for a drink once a decade. And when someone asked if he had any family, Alex wouldn’t have to say no.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out the tension that the Scotch and steam weren’t touching, but they stayed as tight as ever. Six hours strangling the grips of his Triumph T140 couldn’t be shrugged off that quickly, not when he was heading straight toward the source of his stress.

He scrubbed some soap across his head, cleaning the week’s worth of hair and thinking he’d shave it again when he got settled somewhere else, then he soaped up his face and decided he couldn’t be bothered shaving that either. Let his appearance match his mood. He didn’t owe anyone more than that.

He was out of the shower in two minutes flat, but an hour later, he was still lying sleepless on the bed. The ceiling stared blankly at him, the white, textured anonymity of a thousand other places. He was used to the sight. Every once in a while he lucked into a place with faux-wood paneling and he could at least count the seams, but not today. He couldn’t even summon the will to jerk off.

His buzz was already fading and he knew he wouldn’t sleep, so Alex got up, dressed and headed out to grab a burger. After that, there was nothing to do but drive to his mother’s house and see if anything had really changed.

* * *

HE DIDN’T KNOW he’d been hopeful. He would’ve denied it if anyone had asked. But the disappointment rolled over him in a cold, deep wave.

Things weren’t better. Nothing had changed.

Actually, that was a lie. His mother had gotten older. Thirty years older, despite that it had only been sixteen. She was only sixty-five, but she was shrinking in on herself and had gone totally gray.

“Alex!” she said brightly, stretching up to give him a tight hug. “I missed you so much. But I knew you’d come back to us.”

Yes. Of course she’d thought he’d be back. She’d always “known” that about his father, too. Lucky for Alex, she wasn’t batting zero anymore. At least he hadn’t been dead this whole time, even if his dad had.

He patted her awkwardly on the back.

She’d always been affectionate, and he’d always felt ungracious about it, but he knew why now. Her affection was too desperate, too overwhelming, as if she could will you to return her intensity. She’d been that way about her pain, too. She wanted you to share it or it wasn’t real enough.

Alex let her go and stood straight to force her arms off.

When she’d opened the door he’d gotten a glimpse inside her house, and his first impression was confirmed when she let him in. The place was tiny, but it had looked only a little run-down from the curb. But inside? Inside it was packed with papers and smelled stale. If she wasn’t obsessed with Alex’s dad now, she was obsessed with something else.

Alex stepped reluctantly inside. He was going to kill his brother.

“Oh, honey,” his mother gushed. “There’s so much left to do. Your father deserves this honor so much and I want it to be perfect. We need to discuss your eulogy and what—”

“Eulogy?” he snapped.

“Of course, Shane will speak first since he’s the oldest, and then you’ll speak. I’ll be the last to go. I have so much to—”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

She didn’t seem to register his tone. She turned and moved in a stiff, awkward gait toward the far side of the little living room, then started digging through a pile of papers. “I’ve only gotten half of it written, and I still need to put together the program. I’d hoped to have that done last week.”

Alex blew out a long breath. He’d been tricked. His mom hadn’t gotten over her husband’s disappearance at all. Oh, she’d had to accept that the man was dead, since Shane had found their father’s remains himself, but that clearly hadn’t stopped the madness.

What exactly did his mom think Alex had to say about the man? From what I remember, he was a decent father, but I must’ve been wrong since he got himself killed while running off with some floozy.

Alex watched his mother read frantically over the papers in her hand, her lips moving. He recognized that bright-eyed fever. It had taken up half his childhood.

He didn’t even turn around when the door opened behind him. “You said she was better,” he said flatly.

“Alex.”

Despite his anger, he didn’t resist when Shane spun him around and grabbed him in a hug. In fact, Alex didn’t even resist hugging him back. Shit. Shane had taken care of him all those times when their mom had shut herself in her room for days. Shane might’ve tricked him, but the man was still his big brother.

Though Alex might actually be the bigger one now. That was a little disorienting. Shane had always seemed huge to Alex.

“Jesus,” Shane said, pulling back to hold Alex at arm’s length. “What the hell happened to your hair? And your baby face?”

“The hair’s still there somewhere. But I lost the baby face a long time ago.”

“I guess so.” Shane slapped his shoulder. Hard. “Christ. Look at you.”

“Look at you,” Alex said. “You look good.” He did. Shane had grown a couple of inches himself, and he’d gotten a lot stronger, but there wasn’t any gray in his hair yet, and the lines around his eyes seemed to be from smiling. He’d always been the charming one.

Still. “This isn’t what you said it was, Shane.”

Shane’s eyes drifted past his shoulder and his smile faded. He lowered his voice. “She was getting better. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“This is better?”

“No. Two months ago she seemed more stable...I mean it,” he insisted when Alex shot him a disgusted look. “She’s been seeing a psychiatrist for a while. She apparently has something called borderline personality disorder. It makes her...extreme. I don’t know. The doctor thought this ceremony would be a good idea since Mom wasn’t exactly stable when we interred Dad’s remains last year. Closure and all that.”

“Closure. For her? Or you?”

Shane shot him a hard look, but didn’t take the bait. “For her. She’s starting to accept that he’s been dead this whole time and was never coming back.”

“Yeah. Guess I had that pegged.” The old anger was pushing through now, forcing his blood pressure up until Alex could feel his heart banging.

“As for me, I’ve spent the past sixteen years more worried about you than Dad.”

“Yeah, well...I was doing fine until you dragged me back into this.” Alex tipped his head toward their mother, who seemed oblivious to the quiet tension.

“She was better—” Shane started again, but Alex cut him off.

“Maybe you’re just too damn used to the crazy to see it.”

Shane’s jaw stiffened with anger, but his voice stayed calm and low. “I didn’t open myself back up to this until she started getting help. She’s been good. I mean it. Maybe this is just... I don’t know. Maybe it’s just coming to a head, and once the ceremony is done...”

“Sounds like the same old wishful thinking, Shane.”

Shane stared at him for a long moment, his eyes blazing with whatever he wasn’t saying. But he just shook his head. “Maybe. But I’m not going to pretend I’m sorry you’re here.”

“Shane!” their mom suddenly yelped. “Tell your brother he needs to have his speech done by tomorrow night. It can’t wait!”

Alex shook his head. “I guess I’ll be sorry for the both of us. And if you think I’m participating in this dedication, you’ve got another think coming.”

Shane started to reach one hand toward him, but Alex brushed past him and headed for the door. This family was as sick as ever. He shouldn’t have come.

Shane followed him across the living room. “Don’t run away again,” he said quietly.

Alex paused, his hand on the doorknob. “I didn’t run away the first time. I started a life, and I plan to get back to it.”

“Fine. Just give me a few days. That’s all.”

“Okay,” Alex agreed. “A few days. I just came by to let you know I’m here, so you didn’t have to worry I wouldn’t show up. You’ve got my number if you need me.”

“We’re getting together tonight with my girlfriend, Merry, to figure out the logistics of the dedication. She’s the one who runs the ghost town, so if you want to see where we’ll be holding the dedication, Merry will be out there until six. We’re meeting for dinner at the Wagon Wheel at seven.”

Alex shook his head, not sure if he was refusing or just exasperated as he stepped out and closed the door behind him. Shane didn’t follow, but Alex only made it halfway to the sidewalk before he was stopped. Not by his brother or his conscience, but by the sight of a very pretty, very angry young woman heading straight toward him on his mother’s front walkway. Her head was down, the sun glinting off her red hair, and her mouth held tight in a frown. The hands that clutched a crumpled pile of papers to her chest were white around the knuckles.

She was only two steps away when she looked up and stumbled to a stop. “Oh,” her pink lips said, her anger falling away to surprise for a brief moment. She pushed up her little black glasses. The anger returned within a few heartbeats and her flushed cheeks got even redder as her eyes narrowed, first at him, then at the door behind him.

“Here.” She shoved the papers at his chest, and Alex automatically caught them. Sticky tape grabbed at his fingers as he tried to catch the few sheets that slipped away. “Tell her to leave me the hell alone.”

“What?” he asked.

“I have tried to be patient, but I won’t tolerate harassment. I’ve reached my limit.” Her finger poked at the papers and a few more fell away. “Tell her to stay off my property and out of my life.”

“Who?” he started, but the wild bundle of female fury spun away from him and stalked off. Alex’s eyes followed her as she turned left and marched down the street. The skirt of her green dress swayed with the movement of her hips, the black belt drawing his eye to her slim little waist. He lost sight of her when she reached some pine trees, but kept staring for a few seconds anyway. Who in the world had that been?

Remembering the papers, he juggled them until he could finally read one, and the murky confrontation became slightly clearer. They were all copies of the same flyer. Not a professional flyer, but something typed in all caps on a computer and printed in an obnoxiously large font. An announcement of the memorial service for his dad. Written in the sort of flowery language that could only have been conjured by an obsessed mind. His mother had printed these and taped them somewhere, apparently on that woman’s property.

For a moment, Alex considered going back into his mom’s house and asking who the woman was and why his mother had assaulted her with flyers, but curiosity wasn’t a strong enough pull to force him back into that mess.

He stuffed all the flyers into his mom’s mailbox and got on his bike, looking down the street in the hopes of spying the mystery woman as he buckled on his helmet. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was sick of his mother’s madness. What a breath of fresh air.

CHAPTER TWO

THIS WAS SO humiliating.

Sophie Heyer slid a little lower in her seat, then considered continuing the slide until she was underneath the conference-room table and could crawl out of the library meeting room. But that might draw attention. After all, there were only four others in the room, and they each kept shooting side glances at her, as if waiting for her to break.

She suspected someone had purposefully scheduled this meeting on Sophie’s day off, but she’d ruined the plan by picking up an afternoon shift from Betty, who had a sick baby at home. Well, Sophie was here now. She wasn’t going to cower.

She made herself sit a little straighter and raised her chin, then ruined the confidence by nervously adjusting her reading glasses.

“I think that’s about it!” Merry Kade, the curator of the Providence Ghost Town, finished her presentation with a big smile. “I can’t thank you enough for providing space in the library to commemorate the dedication of the Wyatt Bishop Providence Trail. It means so much to the family.”

Jean-Marie, the library director, nodded sternly. “We’re honored. They’ve played such an important part in the history of Jackson.” Her eyes cut briefly to Sophie, then she cleared her throat and forced a smile. “The display will be a great educational opportunity for people who’ve never made it out to Providence. Thank you for loaning us the items.”

The curator gathered up her presentation papers and offered a friendly goodbye to everyone. She seemed to be the only person unaware of the tension her talk had caused.

Jean-Marie clasped her hands tightly together and cleared her throat one more time, looking solemnly over her employees. “I’d love to have the display done by tomorrow afternoon as the dedication is coming up this weekend. Lauren, would you be willing to—?”

“I’ll do it,” Sophie interrupted.

All eyes turned toward her. No one said a word. She willed her cheeks not to burn as she raised her eyebrows. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Jean-Marie said quickly. “Of course not. I just thought...”

Sophie tipped her head in what she hoped looked like innocent bewilderment.

“I mean...” Jean-Marie cleared her throat. “Of course. If you’d like to take on the project...”

“It only makes sense,” Sophie said. “I’m working until seven and you know how quiet it’s been. I should be able to get it finished before I leave.”

They all sat in awkward silence for a few more beats before Jean-Marie stood. “Wonderful. As you know, the Providence Historical Trust is considering sponsoring a new local history section in the library. I’d like them to be pleased with this display, so let me know if you need anything from me or from the trust. I’ll be happy to contact them for you. We don’t need any drama.”

Jean-Marie left the room, followed by her loyal administrative assistant, Yolanda. Sophie and Lauren stood, too. Lauren closed the door. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” Sophie said, lying to her friend without any guilt at all.

“Are you sure? I was a little surprised you volunteered to work on it.”

“It really doesn’t have anything to do with me, so no big deal.”

Lauren watched her for a long moment, doubt written in every line of her face, but she finally shrugged. “All right. It’s your family scandal. As long as it doesn’t affect our girls’ night out tonight, you do whatever you want.”

That actually made Sophie laugh, but she still made a quick escape, grabbing the box of artifacts and heading for the small lobby of the library.

Her family scandal. God, she’d thought it was finally behind her. But she should’ve known better. It had been part of her life for as long as she could remember and it always would be if she stayed in Jackson. But she knew how to deal with it. The same way she always had: by defying everyone’s expectations. By being a good girl and not losing her cool. By not giving them anything to talk about.

She hadn’t quite maintained that cool this afternoon, but Mrs. Bishop was pushing Sophie to the brink. The woman had made Sophie’s childhood a nightmare, and now she’d picked it up again twenty-five years later like a returning plague of locusts.

When Sophie had moved into her uncle’s vacant house on Fair Street a year ago, she’d had no idea that Rose Bishop lived a few houses away. She hadn’t thought of the woman in years. That part of her life had seemed as far away as it could be.

The first time she’d caught sight of Mrs. Bishop coming out of her house, Sophie almost hadn’t recognized her. She looked like a harmless old woman now instead of the threat she’d represented to Sophie as a child. But harmless old woman was just a disguise, apparently. Rose Bishop had lain in wait, pretending to only give Sophie the cold shoulder at first. But now it was full-out war. Sophie had awoken this morning to find two dozen flyers about the dedication ceremony taped to her front door. Unbelievable.

She finished adjusting the shelves of the glassed-in display nook, then carefully placed the artifacts that Merry Kade had brought over. An old rolling pin, some woodworking tools, metal toy soldiers a child had played with long ago. There were also pictures of the town and printed descriptions of each item. Sophie really wouldn’t have to do much work at all, but the display would look too bare without more.

She stepped back and eyed the start of her work. She’d have to pull the shelves back out, but the display would look really nice with a big, faded picture of the town of Providence set behind it as a backdrop, along with some of the rusted barbed wire they’d used for an earlier historical display.

The door behind her opened, and Sophie glanced over her shoulder with a smile and said, “Good afternoon.” For a moment the patron was silhouetted by the slanting sunlight and she was reminded of the man she’d nearly run right into an hour earlier, but when he got farther in and offered a cheery wave, she saw that it was only the postal carrier.

But too late. Her heart had already skipped a few beats, remembering that momentary panic. First, of looking up and finding someone in her path. Then of registering his height and the width of his shoulders and the menacing shadow of the stubble on his face that matched the stubble on his head. And then those bright blue eyes.

She’d realized who he was then. Mrs. Bishop wasn’t the type of person who inspired people to visit, after all, so Sophie might’ve suspected anyway. But that angled jaw and those blue eyes looked like Shane Harcourt’s. His long-lost little brother was home.

Not so little, though. Not little at all.

She’d never met him before. The brothers had been too old for her to have known them in school, and she would’ve avoided them regardless. But living in the tiny town of Jackson, there’d been no way to avoid Shane Harcourt as an adult. Luckily, he’d never treated her with anything more than polite calm.

Alex Bishop didn’t look like the calm, polite type.

She couldn’t guess how he would’ve responded if he’d realized who Sophie was. After all, it wasn’t every day you met the woman whose mother had disappeared with your father. That terrible and permanent connection had been made even more awkward by Rose Bishop’s simmering hatred. For all Sophie knew, Alex Bishop shared the feeling.

She decided to go the long way around the block on her way home from work tonight, just in case. If the Providence dedication had inspired a Bishop family reunion, Sophie didn’t want any part of it.

“Sophie?”

She jumped, too lost in thought to have noticed the door opening again, but she recognized the man’s voice and was smiling even before she turned around. “Hi, Will.”

“You look lovely today.”

She touched the soft cotton skirt of her favorite green dress. “Thank you.”

“I was wondering if you’d reconsidered my offer.”

Her smile widened. He was awfully cute with his dimpled smile and curly blond hair. “I told you I don’t date men I work with.”

“But I don’t work with you,” he drawled, leaning against the wall and aiming that adorable smile at her again. His blue uniform shirt only added to the cuteness.

“The fire station is just on the other side of that wall. It’s too close for comfort. It would be awkward when we stopped dating.”

“Who says we’d stop?”

Sophie just shook her head in exasperation. She says they’d stop. First of all, while it was stimulating to work in the same building that housed the fire station, it really wasn’t ideal for meaningless sexual flings. Way too close to home.

Second, Will was cute and all, and she enjoyed sitting outside watching him play shirtless basketball with the other firefighters during the summer, but he wasn’t her type. Too local. Too young. And too gullible to her good-girl camouflage. She’d been working near Will for two years and he couldn’t see past the librarian glasses and knee-length skirts to the secrets underneath.

But Will had too much confidence in his good looks to give up easily. “I’ll ask again soon,” he warned.

“So you’ve said.”

He winked. “And don’t I keep my promises?”

She shooed him out and he gave her a gracious wave and headed over to the fire station. She supposed she should feel flattered, but he wasn’t truly invested. It felt like a game. Try to talk the shy librarian into a date.

Only she wasn’t as shy as he thought. She was just circumspect. She had to be. Hopefully Will would never know anything about that.

Parents with kids in tow started passing by on the sidewalk, so Sophie packed up the artifacts and locked the glass cabinet. There’d be a rush of children in the library in a few minutes and she wanted to find a great photo for the display and fire up the poster printer while she still had time.

She pasted a smile on her face and walked past the other librarians.

You okay? Lauren mouthed from behind the circulation desk.

Sophie nodded. Why wouldn’t she be? It wasn’t as if she was helping to promote a ceremony that would remind everyone her dad was a cuckold and her mother had abandoned her small children and run off with someone else’s husband.

Sophie forced her smile wider and walked through the library with a bounce in her step.

No, it wasn’t like that at all.

CHAPTER THREE

HE SAW HER again, four hours later, walking down the sidewalk near the center of town as if she’d left his mother’s front yard and never stopped moving. But it was late now and cooler as dusk set in, and she wore a black sweater over that modest green dress.

Alex slowed. He’d gone for a long ride to clear his head, but the clarity had only made him more reluctant to return to his mom’s. She wanted to suck him back into her obsession, and he wanted nothing but distance. Relieved at the prospect of a delay, Alex pulled the bike up next to the redhead and put his boot on the curb.

She stopped and took one step back, uncertainty wrinkling her brow, but at least she didn’t look furious anymore. Alex took off his helmet, just in case she didn’t recognize him with his shaved head covered, but the uncertainty on her face didn’t budge.

“Hey,” he offered as he killed the motor.

“Hello,” she said carefully, as if the weight of the word might change the energy of the air.

“The flyers,” he reminded her. “This afternoon.”

Her chin dipped to let him know that she remembered.

“I wanted to apologize. I gather she’s been bothering you. I can’t say I know anything about it, since I just got into town this morning, but I’m damn clear on how dogged she can be. Do you want me to talk to her?”

She relaxed a little, finally. And he could see more of the real her, now. A mouth that looked naturally happy on a sweet little pixie face. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, but the rest of her pretty red hair was still smooth, twisted into a roll at the base of her neck like something from the 1940s.

She shook her head. “I’ve talked to her plenty of times. Do you think she’d really listen to you?”

“Ha.” He managed a quick smile at that. “No. She doesn’t listen to anyone. Ever. I’m Alex, by the way.” He kicked down the stand and dismounted. “Alex Bishop,” he added, holding out a hand. “I assume you’re a neighbor of my mom’s?”

She blinked a couple of times. Maybe she’d heard of his long absence or maybe she was realizing that he was the crazy woman’s son. But she took his hand and shook it. “I’m Sophie. It’s nice to meet you.”

She looked right up at him now, her brown eyes friendly behind the little black glasses. She was a slight thing, but not short. Five-six, he’d guess, in her delicate black heels, shorter without them. His eyes swept down to admire the little black straps over the arches of her feet. She had a style. He liked it.

“Have you been walking all day in those shoes? I could give you a lift.”

“I’ve been working.”

“The town museum?” he ventured. She certainly didn’t work in one of the bike-rental places or T-shirt shops.

Her laugh skipped over his skin, and he realized he was still holding her hand.

“The museum, huh?” She slipped her hand from his grip, but she did it slowly.

Was this little thing flirting with him? The slide of her fingertips over his palm left him feeling decidedly inclined to flirt back.

“Do I look like I work at a museum, Mr. Bishop?”

He used her question as an excuse to look her up and down again. The little button-down dress kept her all covered up, but the black sweater hugged her narrow waist, emphasizing that there were hips beneath it. Very nice female hips that made the skirt flare out a little. “Yeah. You do. But a museum I’d really love to come visit.”

Yes, she was definitely flirting. Her mouth stretched to a pleased smile. “Really? What about visiting the library? I try not to judge, but you don’t look like the kind of guy who hangs out in libraries too often.”

A librarian? Shit. An honest-to-goodness small-town librarian? Alex had to tamp down the wolfish grin that wanted to take over his face. This girl was adorable. And her gaze was now touching brightly on his bike. She’d probably never been on a motorcycle. Maybe she wanted to find out what it was like.

He quickly checked her ring finger and saw no evidence of commitment. “Want a ride?”

Her eyes sparkled as they moved over the bike again, but she shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Come on. The bike’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Her eyes still roamed over the gleaming chrome frame before they moved right over to him and all the way up his body. She studied his face for a moment, looking straight into his eyes without any shyness at all. Then she sighed with what sounded like genuine regret. “No. I can’t. A strange man inviting me for a ride? What kind of girl do you think I am?”

Damn. Alex had no idea what kind of girl she was...except that she was the kind of girl who said something like that with a tiny smile on her face. Jesus.

“Sophie...” he started, but she shook her head.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.” She slipped her hand into his again and shook it.

“Meet me somewhere for a drink? Dinner? I owe you something to make up for the rest of my family.”

“Oh, you owe me?” One eyebrow arched in an enticing challenge.

“Obviously. I don’t know what she’s done, but you’re clearly fed up. And if you meet me somewhere, you won’t have to worry about getting on the back of a bike with a strange man.”

Her eyes flickered to the bike again. She wanted a ride. Badly.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No. People will talk.”

“People will talk?” This girl really was living in a time warp.

“Yes, they’ll...” She seemed to catch herself and crossed her arms, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Alex ran a hand over his shaved head. “You mean because of how I look? The bike and the tattoos and—?”

“The tattoos?” She looked him over quickly, a flick of the eyes, as if she could see beneath his jacket if she looked hard enough. Hell, all she had to do was ask nicely. But she hadn’t asked. Yet.

He watched her swallow as if her mouth had gone dry. Lust crawled down his belly.

He’d asked her to dinner out of curiosity, but now... Now he really wanted to take this girl out. “We’ll go someplace quiet,” he said, leaning a little closer. “And I promise not to tell.”

She looked away, gazing down the street. He was sure she was about to offer a cool “No,” but then she looked up the street, as well. She wasn’t avoiding his gaze, she was checking to see who was watching.

“I’m meeting my girlfriends for dinner.”

“And after?” he dared, hearing a hint of acquiescence in her voice.

“After,” she murmured, then her eyes rose to meet his. “There’s a big tourist place up the block. The Bucking Bronco.”

“I know it,” he said quickly.

“I’ll meet you for one drink. At the upstairs bar.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. She was serious about not being seen. No local would ever set foot in that overpriced, mediocre tourist trap of a restaurant. “When?”

“Around ten-thirty?” she suggested.

“Sure,” he said, thinking even as he said it that she wouldn’t show. She’d chicken out. And that was fine. Because she couldn’t take away the sight of her cute green skirt swinging around her ass as she walked away.

A little librarian to take his mind off his family and their bullshit. Sometimes life was damn surprising.

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE COULDN’T MEET him. She’d made a terrible mistake agreeing to do it. Her dark, reckless side had pushed her into a stupid impulse. It wanted a ride on that bike, but he was one guy she could never play with, even for a night.

Sophie told herself this even as she smoothed up a nude stocking and clipped it to her garter belt. She’d showered and shaved her legs and picked out a sleeveless black dress with an A-line skirt, all the while assuring herself she wouldn’t see him after dinner. She couldn’t. Alex Bishop obviously didn’t know who she was. If he knew she was Dorothy Heyer’s daughter, he’d never have asked her out.

Then again... He had a glint in his eyes that Sophie recognized. It was familiar because she saw it in the mirror every day. It was a glint that said she wanted to do things. Things she knew she shouldn’t.

She smoothed up the other stocking and clipped it in place before letting the skirt fall.

The black dress was modest. The neckline didn’t show even a hint of cleavage. Everything about her was modest. Everything except the truth.

She brushed her hair out until it shone, then twisted it back into her favorite chignon. She would’ve left it down, but if she went for a ride on his bike, it would stay neat under her helmet this way.

Not that she was going for a ride. She wasn’t even going to see him.

But she kept getting ready, her heart beating hard. This was the real her. The woman who wanted things she shouldn’t have. Things like a big stranger with a shaved head and tattoos she wanted to uncover. A man whose smile was almost as hard as those thighs encased by well-worn denim. Exactly the man she could not be seen with.

“No,” Sophie told herself as her heart beat even harder. No. She couldn’t do it. Yes, he was a virtual stranger. Yes, he was only in town for a few days. Yes, he looked dark and dangerous and he’d seen right away that she wasn’t exactly what she appeared to be.

But no. His identity overruled all of her usual guidelines. There would be nothing logical about a fling with Alex.

She slipped on her black heels with the little bows on the back, then slid bright red lipstick over her lips, loving the way the color bloomed and transformed her average mouth into something wicked and wanton. She pressed her lips together and marveled at the bright shock of color that reappeared when she pouted.

She slipped on her black glasses.

God. It had been so long since she’d been bad. Months since she’d even tried, and that last guy had been so boring once she’d finally gotten him alone.

Alex wouldn’t be boring.

But she couldn’t go.

Then again... She didn’t have his number. It would be rude to simply not show up. She should at least go to the bar after dinner to tell him that this was a mistake.

Of course, if she only told him that, he’d press, just like he had earlier. Come on. It’ll be fun. He’d seen what she really wanted and pushed her to give in to it. Come on. I promise not to tell.

Pleasure shot through her belly at the memory of those wicked words. A few seconds with the guy and he’d already tapped into that naughty streak that had haunted her since high school.

Back then, she’d never indulged it, so it had been easier to ignore. It wasn’t easy to ignore anymore.

So she couldn’t just see him and play coy. She’d have to tell him the truth about who she was. That was the right thing to do.

Nodding to herself, Sophie shrugged on a little black sweater with pearl buttons, then slipped in matching pearl earrings.

Maybe a little too Audrey Hepburn, but with the red lipstick and the bows at the back of her heels, she hoped she’d added a hint of suggestion.

Sophie locked up the tiny house she was staying in and headed down the street. Dinner with the girls was just what she needed. They tried to get together every other Sunday for girls’ night out, but this was an extra treat. Lauren had wanted to try the new French restaurant in town and Isabelle had just finished up a big project that had kept her working late for weeks, so they had a good excuse for a weekday night out.

The restaurant was only four blocks away, so she’d decided not to drive. If she walked, she’d have the perfect excuse to accept a ride later.

Even if—when, she ordered herself—even when she told him who she was, he still might offer a ride home. It’d be very late, after all. And a ride would be a pleasant consolation prize, pressed against his broad back with that black-and-chrome machine between her thighs. That was a hell of a lot more than nothing.

Her heels clicked against the wooden boardwalk when she reached the first touristy block of town. It was cool tonight, but she never minded that. She loved the breeze sneaking over her silk-clad legs. She loved the cool air in her lungs and the scent of turning aspen on the breeze. Fall was her favorite time of year. It felt like the world was holding its breath for something exciting.

She tried to tell herself she wasn’t doing the same thing as she reached the restaurant and glanced up the block to the loud touristy restaurant she’d visit later.

Lauren and Isabelle were already enjoying wine by the time she spotted them and hurried to the table. “Sorry I had to work so late.”

“We’re sorry we had to start without you,” Lauren said with a grin. “You look adorable as usual,” she added as she stood to give Sophie a big hug.

“You, too. And you!” Sophie said as she hugged Isabelle. “You’re alive!”

“Barely,” Isabelle said drily. “Just don’t look at my nails.” She held up her hands to show off her paint-stained cuticles. Sophie didn’t mention the streak of green oil paint on her collarbone. It clashed with the silky red shirt she wore.

She and Lauren had gotten to know Isabelle at the library where she often arranged to borrow expensive books from state universities. Her painting demanded very specific types of research, so she came in fairly often, distracted and color-streaked. She normally wore old jeans and sweaters, so Sophie was surprised to see the deep red flowy blouse she wore tonight. “You look so pretty. Are you wearing heels?” she gasped.

Isabelle stuck out her foot to show off cute black wedge boots. “Ugh. Yes. I’m considering getting laid sometime this decade. My neighbor talked me into ordering these online.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t have any trouble getting laid if you left the house more often than once a month.”

“I don’t want to leave the house. I don’t know why a man can’t be delivered along with my art supplies.”

Sophie grinned. “Maybe you could advertise for models.”

“That probably wouldn’t go over well once they realized my specialty. Anatomical paintings sound fun until you realize it’s not a euphemism.”

“It could be,” Lauren insisted, with a tip of her glass. “These snowboarding bums are always looking for a few dollars. And they’re in very, very nice shape.”

Isabelle’s normally serious face got even more serious for a moment. “Hmm.”

Sophie snorted. “Oh, my God, she’s actually thinking about it. Let’s just make clear that Lauren and I would be happy to pose as art students to make this happen.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lauren agreed. “We’d do it for you, Isabelle. Goodness of our hearts and all that.”

“Screw you,” Isabelle said. “You’ve got a naked man to look at any time you want.”

“Hey!” Sophie interrupted, bumping Lauren’s arm. “Didn’t you say your mom was here to visit? Why didn’t you bring her along?”

“She’s in bed already. She said she was tired, but I think she wanted a few hours of alone time to read. She just got an e-reader. She doesn’t want me to tell any of her old librarian associates.”

“Oh, I forgot your mom was a librarian, too. You’re a legacy family!”

Lauren laughed. “I spent half my childhood in the stacks. I couldn’t break free from my fate.”

“Does your mom like Jake?” Sophie asked.

“What’s not to like? He’s a wholesome fire captain!”

“Wholesome, huh?”

Lauren’s wide smile told them everything they needed to know about her new relationship with the fire captain. Sophie tried not to sigh. She didn’t need a serious relationship, but the steady sex would be really nice. She’d never had that. She didn’t know when she ever would. Yeah, she was much more comfortable with sordid, hidden affairs. Funny how those traits could be inherited.

She spent the rest of dinner trying not to think of having a sordid affair with Alex Bishop. The knowledge that she absolutely couldn’t do it made the thought harder to force out of her mind. She was so distracted that her friends didn’t even blink when she made an excuse about being tired and wrapped up their dinner a few minutes earlier than they’d normally have broken up. It was a weeknight, after all.

“Do you want a ride, Sophie?” Lauren asked. “Jake’s coming to pick me up.”

“No, it’s a beautiful night. I want to enjoy as much walking as I can before winter sets in.”

She said her goodbyes, her heart speeding a little at the small deception. Or maybe it was speeding with excitement, because it only beat faster as she stepped onto the boardwalk. If her friends were paying attention, they’d notice that she wasn’t heading toward her house, but she glanced through the window and saw that they were still chatting as they gathered purses and jackets. Sophie rushed up the block, not bothering to hide her smile.

Even during the slow season, a cacophony sounded from the Bucking Bronco when the door opened a few feet ahead of her. Country music played and people spoke loudly to be heard over it. The outdoor tables were abandoned for the evening, but past the windows, families with tired children ate ribs and steak and took the opportunity to get a little drunk.

When she stepped inside, she noticed the younger crowd at the bar, but she knew from experience that the music was even louder back there. Sophie ducked to the left and headed up the wide staircase.

The bar upstairs was smaller. They only served beer and wine and margaritas, but there were small tables around the bar here, and she and Alex would disappear from view behind the larger dining tables at the front.

Though Alex might have a hard time disappearing anywhere, she realized as she caught sight of his shaved head and walked toward him. He stood at the bar, looming over the few other people there. Sophie glanced around, but there was no one she knew here. There was better steak and cheaper beer to be had a few streets out of town.

Alex saw her and straightened. He didn’t smile, but the slight rise of his eyebrows as he looked her up and down conveyed approval. Sophie did smile. That man was a pleasure to look at. He’d shaved his face, and now his jaw and cheekbones were emphasized, giving him a lean and deadly look. He’d also shucked his leather jacket at some point, and there they were. Tattoos.

One arm was covered all the way down to his wrist with the vivid colors of a design she couldn’t make out from ten feet away. She did her best not to lunge at him like she was bringing down prey.

“Hi,” he said. “I didn’t know if you wanted to get a table.”

“That’d be great.”

He gestured toward the closest empty table, then reached past her to pull out the chair before she could sit. A gentleman. With tattoos.

He grabbed his jacket from a bar stool and slipped it over the back of the other chair. “What are you drinking?”

“White wine, please.”

He nodded as if he’d expected that and stepped back to the bar without another word. The order only took a moment to place, but she used that short time to study him from behind. His gray T-shirt hugged thick shoulders and revealed the delicious taper of his back down to his waist. Those ancient jeans showed off thick thighs and a delicious-looking ass. It all ended in lug-soled black boots that made her heart skip a little.

He was just so...masculine.

She looked away before he turned around with her wine and a bottle of beer, and Sophie folded her hands demurely on the table.

He still looked big when he sat down. She knew she couldn’t hide her stare, so she didn’t even bother. “I like your tattoos.”

His head drew back a little in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can I see this one?” She gestured toward his left arm.

He helpfully pulled his sleeve up to his shoulder.

“Wow,” she breathed.

Sophie wanted to reach out and touch, despite that she knew there’d be no texture. But the reds and blues and greens were so vivid, she imagined she’d feel something. It wasn’t just passive art. His arm was alive with it.

She’d never seen such deep colors on skin. Dark green pine trees rose up his biceps in stylized spikes outlined in black, but the tips disappeared into wisps of clouds. A bright blue river wound through the green and then down his thickly muscled forearm. It splashed between angled boulders of red and yellow and gray before the river tightened to a bright red ribbon that finally wound around his wrist.

“It’s really beautiful. It’s honestly the most beautiful tattoo I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks. An artist in California did it. He’s really amazing. He’s the only one I go to now.”

“And that?” she asked, tipping her head toward his right arm, where a raven was drawn in stark black lines that looked like slashes.

“An earlier work.”

“I like it, too. You’ve got nice taste.”

A small smile, finally. “Not as nice as you. You like pretty dresses.”

That surprised a laugh out of her. “I do. I like pretty things.”

“Like me,” he said drily.

“Oh, sure. You’re my pretty treat for the night.” Stop, she told herself as she watched his nostrils flare a little. Stop flirting. Just tell him the truth and leave.

But her mouth refused to obey. Instead of speaking up, it quirked a secret little smile at the way his gaze had intensified. Sophie reached for her wine. “How long are you in town, Alex?”

“Through the weekend,” he answered. “Not long.”

“The dedication ceremony?”

He looked surprised for a moment, then he seemed to remember how small Jackson was and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll ride on as soon as the damn thing is over.”

Now it was her turn to be surprised, but she wasn’t going to press him on this issue, that was certain. It wasn’t a topic she wanted to intrude on. “Where do you live?”

One of his big shoulders rose in a shrug. “Here and there. I’m on my way to Alaska next month.”

“Alaska?” she gasped. “In October? Isn’t it already freezing there by then?”

“Not quite, but the work doesn’t stop during the winter.”

“What sort of work?” Her pulse quickened at the thought of Alaska. She wanted to see it, so badly.

“I’m a groundwater engineer. I work as a contractor for oil companies. Making sure they’re not fucking things up.”

“Is that the official engineering term?”

Now his mouth relaxed into a real smile, and she was shocked at how sweet he looked. “Pretty much. It’s a rough-and-tumble engineering field. Not a lot of scientists stationed in the places I go.”

“Is it always Alaska?”

“Not always. I travel a lot.”

Sophie’s thoughts were swirling almost too fast to catch one. She had a thousand questions about Alaska and a thousand more about where else he went and the things he’d seen. She took a drink of wine and grabbed hold of one question. “Tell me what it’s like. Alaska. Is it...is it amazing?”

“It’s pretty amazing. What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” she breathed before she realized how odd and greedy it sounded. “I mean... Where do you go? Are there polar bears? Is it dangerous? Is it cold?”

He chuckled. “You look like a little girl right now, wide-eyed and sparkling.”

A blush hit her hard and fast, and she reached for her wine again, trying to think of a way to backtrack.

“It’s cold, at least where I go. And barren, if you can use that word for something usually covered in snow and ice. I’ve been to the fields in the summer, and it’s different then. Like a savanna, I guess. Mile after mile of grass and sun and flies. You see caribou everywhere then. Foxes. Even some wolves. It’s beautiful and quiet.”

“Wow,” she breathed, her skin tingling at the idea. Or maybe it was the wine.

“You want another?” he asked, gesturing toward the glass she realized she’d drained.

“Yes,” she answered quickly. He’d barely touched his beer, but she didn’t care. Her buzz was pushed on by her excited pulse, and she felt deliciously alive.

Alex rose to get her another glass, and she realized her mistake then and almost grabbed his wrist to make him sit and keep talking. Thankfully, he was back within moments.

“And in the winter?” she pressed before he’d even sat down.

“In the winter, it’s cold and dark. It’s eerie, knowing you’re so far from anyone or anything. And it’s not so quiet. The wind blows day and night when it kicks up. When you’re inside, it sounds like you’re on a ship, and not a steady one.”

“Can you see the northern lights?”

“They’re pretty bright there in the winter.”

“That is so cool,” she murmured, not realizing she’d touched his arm until he looked down. She looked down, too. Her fingertips rested on a swirl of red ink. She let them linger for a moment, then let them whisper over the bright color until her touch slipped off his wrist.

“So it’s out on the tundra?” she asked, her voice slightly fainter than before. A heartbeat passed before he spoke.

“It is. Nothing but wild animals and crazy men out there.”

“You help drill for oil?”

“No, I’m there to piss people off. I do testing and make sure they’re obeying regulations.”

“And do they?”

He smiled. “They try. When there are eyes on them, at least.”

He looked like he’d fit in perfectly out there in a harsh land with rough men. “How long will you stay there?”

“For this gig, only three weeks. Sometimes I go for a week, sometimes six months.”

“Six months,” she murmured, trying to imagine that. Of living somewhere entirely new and knowing you’d be moving on soon. Everyone you saw would be a new person, a stranger. Every drive or hike or walk a new experience. Her skin prickled and she licked her lips. Physical and emotional desire twisted inside her and swelled.

She’d only ever lived in Jackson, really. She’d done most of her college work online, then gone to Laramie for her senior year to complete the courses she couldn’t take long-distance. Aside from a two-year monthly commute to Salt Lake City to get her MS in Library Science, she’d been at home. She had obligations here. People she couldn’t leave behind. She was connected. To her father and her brother. Even to her great-uncle, who’d asked her to rent his house until he could get out of the convalescent home. He didn’t want strangers living in his place, and no one had the heart to tell him that he wasn’t ever going to be able to live on his own again.

No, she had too many ties here. She couldn’t do it. Yet. But Alex was oozing adventure out of his pores.

“You should go sometime,” he said, as if he’d read her thoughts.

“Maybe.” Maybe she would. Maybe she’d drive up all the way through Canada. Or fly to Seattle and then work her way up the coastline on ferries, only staying in each town for a few days.

“Not very many single women up there. Assuming you’re single.”

She smiled and glanced up at him. “Would I be here with you if I weren’t?”

“I’m not sure. You did want to keep it quiet.”

“I did.” This was her chance. Thank him for the drinks. Tell him the truth. Apologize for any misunderstanding on his part. But she wanted more of his deep voice dragging along her nerve endings. More of his stories. She even wanted more of his painted skin under her fingertips. Just a tiny bit more. A touch.

“Am I still a stranger?” he asked.

Sophie’s skin prickled again and her nipples slowly tightened. That question promised something. Some dark and dangerous prize if she answered it correctly. She let her hand move closer to his arm and then followed that same swirl of red back up his wrist. This time she let her fingers climb just a little bit higher.

“Oh,” she said as she touched him, “you’re definitely a stranger.”

“Does that mean I can’t talk you into a ride?”

She dragged the pads of her fingers across a yellow stroke of ink. “I don’t know.”

When she looked up, she found him staring at her. Hard. His brows heavy and serious. “You’d like it,” he said. No question in that tone, and no dominance either. It was just fact. He knew she’d like it. They both did.

The wickedness inside her stretched with pleasure. The power of it overwhelmed her.

“It’s not safe,” she countered, but even she could hear the breathless approval in her voice. It wasn’t safe and she wanted it that way. God. Her body was shameless, and her dangerous heart was even worse.

She waited for him to reassure her. I’ll take care of you. It’ll be fine. But he just watched her face as her fingers pressed harder into his ink, her nails against his skin now. She watched him, too, waiting, her pulse so quick she had to part her lips to get enough air.

This was wrong. So wrong.

Finally, his arm turned under her touch and he slid his hand around hers. He stood, and Sophie followed.

* * *

CHRIST, THERE WAS something incredibly sexy about this woman. Something that couldn’t be summed up by the slim waist and cute face and black heels. It was that smile, small and secret, and the way she watched him with a challenge in her eyes, wanting him to do...something.

If she were timid, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have noticed her. If she’d hidden behind her glasses and sweaters, his eyes would have skipped right over her, letting her red hair and brown eyes blend into the crowd. But she wasn’t hiding, she was...waiting.

And Alex was perfectly willing to step up to the plate.

He touched the small of her back when they reached the stairway, gesturing her to go ahead. The feel of the warm, thin fabric of her sweater reminded him that she wasn’t quite dressed for a bike ride.

“Here,” he offered when they got to the front door of the loud restaurant. He eased his jacket over her slim shoulders. He’d be more than warm enough with her hot little body pressed to his back. It was still warm for fall. Sixty-five or so.

“Thank you,” she said softly, slipping her arms into the sleeves, then laughing when her hands failed to emerge.

“That should keep your hands warm. Have you ever been on a bike?”

“No.” He walked her toward the bike and watched her eyes roam over it again, greedy with excitement. Shit. Alex wondered if she’d look at his body that way, if he stripped down and offered a ride. A man could hope.

“It’s a 1980 Triumph. A T140. I’ve had it almost fifteen years now.”

“It’s big,” she said.

He flashed her a smile. “Not as big as a hog.”

“But less common?” she asked.

“Bingo.”

Alex unlatched the pannier at the back of the bike and got out his helmet, then grabbed another one he kept for the occasional passenger. “All you have to do is hang on to me. Stay with my movements.”

“I think I can handle that.”

“And watch your legs. Keep your feet on the rests. You don’t want to burn yourself on the exhaust.”

“Okay.” She slipped her glasses into her purse, then eased the helmet over her hair and clipped the chin strap.

Alex had to stop himself from smiling at her little face framed by the big helmet. She had the most innocent face. And then that wicked red mouth... He took her purse and stored it in the pannier. “Are you ready, Sophie?”

The brightness in her eyes answered the question. Alex mounted the bike and hit the throttle. She licked her lips as the engine roared to life. He tried to ignore the way his cock stirred at the sight. Yeah, she was damn ready.

He waved her closer, and Sophie held her skirt in the primmest little gesture he’d ever seen a woman manage as she swung her leg over the bike and slid into place behind his hips. He waited a moment for her to arrange herself. Her front pressed to him, her arms came around his waist and her hands finally emerged from the leather sleeves to clasp each other.

“Ready?” he asked over his shoulder. He felt her head bob in a nod.

“Hold on.”

He eased away from the curb and her arms tightened. If it were daylight, he would have headed north, but since there were no sights to see, he took the road that went south from town. It was a little more wide-open for her first ride.

The moon was just rising above the hills, a view that Alex never got tired of on night rides. You forgot how much light it cast until you had to ride without it. Being swallowed up by darkness had its own beauty, but it was nothing compared to this, the silver light shimmering off the aspen trees that peeked out between the towering pines.

The road was a blank strip ahead of them, defined only by the middle line and the pale shoulders on either side. They slipped free of the town limits, passed a few trucks, and then there was a long straight path as they roared toward the Snake River Canyon.

After the first few minutes, he felt Sophie begin to relax against him, her body fitting tighter to his. Alex began to relax, too. She felt nice against him, soft and sweet. He hadn’t had a woman on his bike in a while. There’d been women since Andrea, but mostly one-night stands at whatever uninspiring motel he was sleeping in.

When he’d been younger, that had been one of the great advantages of traveling. New women. New possibilities. No commitments. But he’d gotten grumpier since then, older, and often his hand offered more relaxation with way less hassle.

But this? Flirting and anticipation and just enjoying someone’s presence? That hadn’t happened in a while.

Alex eased the bike around a long, wide curve and felt her go taut against him. He settled a hand on her leg, and the silkiness of her stocking was a tiny pleasure under his fingers. Such funny retro quirks, her full skirts and panty hose and little black glasses. Her thigh flexed, muscles moving against his palm, and Alex found himself suddenly struck with the startling idea that her outfit might be even more retro than he thought.

He was frozen for a moment, the heat of her leg radiating through the silk and straight into him. But she relaxed again. She relaxed enough that her legs parted a tiny bit farther and her hips slipped closer. Now he could feel her body all the way from his shoulder blades down to his ass. All of her, pressed against him, her shape molding into him.

Alex kept his eyes straight on the road, but all his concentration was focused on one small place. He took a deep breath and let it out, then slowly spread his fingers out on her thigh, edging an inch under the hem of her skirt.

She didn’t tense. She didn’t stiffen against him or clear her throat or nudge him with her clasped hands.

Alex slowed around another curve, then, as he straightened the bike out again, he slipped his hand a centimeter higher on her thigh. Then another.

His fingertips tingled from the intensity, the anticipation. And finally, he felt it. The smooth seam at the top of the stocking. The slightest rise of the edge. Then...bare skin. Bare hot skin.

She was wearing stockings. And a garter belt.

Holy shit. Something feral inside him roused itself.

His hand brushed the clasp holding the silk in place. He wondered if he’d know how to unhook it if he were given the opportunity, then realized he wouldn’t want to. He’d want the stockings on. He’d want to fuck her that way.

Alex let out the breath he’d been holding. She melted more fully against him. He left his hand just where it was. The clouds turned silver above the trees.

At first, he didn’t feel the change, but when Sophie’s hand flattened against his stomach, he realized she’d unclasped her hands. Now her fingers spread wider, feeling his body through the cotton of his shirt. Her other hand slipped up to trace over his chest. Nerve endings all the way from his neck down to his dick woke up and paid attention.

Adrenaline rushed into his veins, and if he’d managed to catch a chill on this ride, it vanished in an instant. His brain worked quickly, helpfully pointing out that there was a scenic turnout just ahead, in case he wanted to pull over and kiss her. And don’t you want to kiss her? his mind yelled.

Yeah. Hell, yeah, he wanted to kiss her. At least.

Alex slowed and cut across the highway, driving into a small dirt lot that overlooked the river. He cut the engine and toed down the stand, but he didn’t move. Her arms were still wrapped around him, her fingers still sliding slowly along his chest, mapping the shape of him. The only sound now was the water below them and a few crickets waiting for the first freeze.

He slid his hand back to her leg and heard a soft sigh. The sound made him close his eyes. Her other hand pressed tighter against his belly.

Jesus, this was insane. Locked like this with a woman he hardly knew and had never kissed, his fingers tracing the top of her stocking. He pushed her skirt a little higher and looked down to see her. The garter was pale in the moonlight. Not white, but the same color as her skin. The stocking just a shade darker.

He’d never seen them like that. Anytime he’d been lucky enough to be this close, the lingerie had been black. This was a subtler form of sexy, just like the rest of her. A nudge that dared you to find out more, if you were man enough to take the hint. He slipped his thumb beneath the strap of the garter belt and stroked the top of her thigh.

Yes. Another sigh. Alex took off his helmet, then felt her do the same. When he reached back, she handed over the helmet and slipped off the bike. His back was like ice without her.

He followed her slow walk to the railing and stopped behind her, keeping a few inches of space between them so she wouldn’t feel stalked. Her neck curved so delicately up from where his jacket hung loose around her. Two pale inches of skin between her shoulder and the sweep of her pretty red hair. She watched the water below them, dark and dangerous until it turned white against rocks. But he only watched her.

Finally, her head turned and she smiled at him. A demure tip of her lips. A coy glance. Alex stepped closer. His heart sped as he slipped his hands beneath the leather jacket and framed her hips. Then he slowly, slowly dipped his head and watched her face tip away, giving him access, letting him close until he could press a kiss to that soft skin just behind her ear.

Oh, she sighed again. A tiny, sweet sound. Alex opened his mouth on her. Just a little. Just enough to let her feel the heat, and this time her neck arched until he could brush his lips all the way down to the line of her shoulder and back up. As a reward, he scraped his teeth against her skin.

That got more than a sigh. She shivered and gasped and her hand came up to curl around his skull and pull him tighter. He sucked at her then, just below her ear, and Sophie’s whole body arched, pushing her hips back.

Hell, he hadn’t intended on pressing his erection against her ass that quickly, but he wasn’t going to push her away. Even if he’d wanted to, his hands had other ideas. They gripped her hips tighter and held her right there. Right where she’d wanted to be. The brush of her ass against his cock was a shudder of pure pleasure. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him. The sweetness of her.

She smelled good and tasted even better, but he wanted more of her. More.

Alex clasped her chin, turning her toward him so he could taste her kiss. She turned eagerly, offering her mouth to him, moaning into him as he kissed her. When she twisted toward him, he let his hands slide around her waist, turning her until he was holding her hips again. He tugged her belly against his hard-on.

Her tongue met his and slipped tentatively into his mouth.

Jesus, she was hot. A ridiculous mix of primness and eagerness that made him want to own her, dominate her, but with a few “Yes, ma’ams” thrown in out of respect.

He kissed her, carefully at first, getting to know her mouth and her taste. He knew he was a big, rough guy, and he didn’t want to scare her. But if he was trying to take care and go slow, Sophie didn’t have the same compulsion. Her hands freely explored him, sliding up his arms and over his shoulders. His ego swelled along with his cock when she made little noises of approval in her throat. He tugged her hips tighter to him and kissed her more deeply.

God, the pressure against his cock felt good. And her hands felt good as her fingers dug a little into his muscles, making him aware of his body. Of his strength and size and the way that might turn her on.

He backed her up to the flat wood planks of the railing. He could let go of her hips now and stay pressed to her. Her waist was a slight curve under his hands, and then her long, delicate back, and that arching neck. Then, finally, he cupped the back of her head and held her for a deeper kiss, his tongue working slowly against hers, letting her know exactly how he’d fuck her.

Her moan let him know she might like it.

But not tonight.

He was startled by the thought. He didn’t know where it came from. Not from her, but from some dark part of his brain. Not tonight. Not even if she’d let him. He felt...deviant, touching this woman, making her moan. He felt perverted and he liked it. He wanted to draw it out. Expose her secrets like layers of hidden need. They were there. He could feel it in the way she stretched up to take more of his tongue. More of him.

He’d give her more if that would make her happy.

Alex raised his head, pulling back from the kiss even as she tried to follow. He kept his hand cupped to her neck, holding her still as he feathered a kiss over her top lip. Then her bottom one. Then the crease of her mouth. The tip of her tongue licked at him, and he chuckled and tasted her again. He couldn’t resist it, but the kiss was quick this time, then he raised his head to look down at her.

Her face was silver in the moonlight, her pupils black as the sky when she opened her eyes.

“You shouldn’t be doing this with a stranger,” he said.

“This is a small town. You’re not really a stranger.”

Alex shook his head, knowing that wasn’t true. “No one here knows me anymore.”

She closed her eyes and raised her mouth, and when Alex kissed her again, she whispered against him, “No one knows me either.”

He could believe that. He understood that. She was a secret, right here among people she’d known all her life.

Alex bunched her skirt in his hand and raised one side of it, sliding it up her leg, waiting for her to stop him. She didn’t. His hand touched bare skin, then the warm strap of her garter belt. Jesus.

“Do you wear these to drive men crazy?” he growled.

He felt her smile against his jaw. “I wear them to drive me crazy.”

Damn. He’d thought he was hard before, but now he was in pain. Yes, she was a secret, and his hand was on the hot skin of her thigh.

He gripped her there, and her knee rose, just a few inches, just enough for her to curl her foot behind his calf and make space between her legs for him. His cock notched into place. He groaned against her neck and felt her throaty laugh vibrate through him.

“But...” she murmured, “I’m glad they drive you a little crazy, too.”

“A little,” he rasped, sliding his hand over the back of her thigh. The slippery fabric of her panties teased his thumb. He slid his hand low again, dragging it over the stocking, memorizing the wicked feel of bare flesh above silky material. His rough hand caught at the delicate threads. “Sorry,” he whispered, trying to make himself feel that, but he couldn’t. Her hips tipped up a little, like she liked it. Did she? That his hands were rough against her perfection? Did she want that?

He let his fingers curl all the way behind her knee, then up again, up. Over silk stocking, and the bump of the fastener and then sweet bare skin. And then...

“Oh,” she whimpered as the edge of his hand grazed between her legs, slipping along the fabric of her panties. His thumb edged beneath them as he cupped the bottom of her ass and hauled her tighter to his cock.

Her hips rocked against him. Alex closed his eyes and tried not to moan like a boy dry-humping his first girlfriend. But it felt that good, and his heart pounded with the shocking pleasure of it, just as it had in junior high.

Maybe it was something in the air. A perk of returning to the same sights and smells he’d hit puberty with. Or maybe it was that his whole hand was under her panties now, cupping her naked ass while she slowly, slowly worked herself against his torturously covered shaft.

For a moment, he imagined it. Unzipping his jeans, setting his cock free, pulling her underwear to the side, then just plunging deep, feeling her pussy drag hot and wet over him as he sank into her body. She’d love it. She’d arch up and ride him and come all over him, screaming and bucking.

And then they’d be done.

Somehow he knew that, and he didn’t want this done. Not that quickly.

So instead of setting his throbbing cock free, Alex edged back and eased her leg down. Her eyes opened slowly as a confused and nearly grumpy frown took her mouth, but when he slipped his hand down the front of her panties, her lips parted on a sigh.

His did, too. There was nothing but bare skin under that little triangle of satin fabric. Bare skin, and plump lips, and sweet, hot wetness that led his fingers right where they wanted to go.

Taking it slow or not, Alex now wished they were inside. In his sad, anonymous hotel room, in the dreary light of that bedside lamp, on worn white sheets, so he could strip off this dress and these panties and fucking see her. God. The stockings and garter belt and perfect, parting legs and the pinkness of her, shining with wetness, begging for his mouth, his hands, his cock.

This was torture, sliding his fingers along her, feeling the way her hips jumped as he grazed her clit, and all of her was hidden by the modest skirt of her dress. He grazed her clit again, and the hand that had been clutching his biceps let him go and curved around the top of the railing to hold tight.

“Oh, God,” she groaned.

Power flooded his veins. He was going to make her come right here. Right now. A truck roared by, the pale edge of light skimming down her neck and body and highlighting the way his arm disappeared beneath her skirt. She didn’t even glance toward the road, though she did murmur, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” But it wasn’t an admonition. It was encouragement. He could hear the eager edge of it in her voice and feel it in the way her thighs eased the tiniest bit farther apart.

We shouldn’t be doing this and that’s why it’s so good.

Her eyes opened. “We really shouldn’t,” she whispered, sounding almost sad this time, but then her free hand slipped up his neck and pulled him down.

God. Yes. Now his tongue was in her hot, wet mouth and his fingers were in her hot, wet pussy and she whimpered into him as he took her both ways.

He pushed two fingers deep inside her and swallowed her wild cry.

Her nails bit into his neck, and when he thrust again, her second cry was just as rough as the first. He would’ve paused, would’ve gentled his touch, but her hips rocked up for more.

Goose bumps broke out over his neck and down his arm as he realized that if he was hurting her...she liked it. His heart beat harder. So hard he could feel it in his throat as he fucked her with his fingers and she whimpered and sucked at his tongue.

She wanted this. She fucking needed it.

When her cries finally quieted to desperate whimpers, Alex slipped his fingers back to her clit and stroked her there.

Her mouth broke free then as she threw back her head with a gasp, but he couldn’t stop thinking of the way she’d sucked at his tongue. Like that was part of her need, part of what she wanted. A girl like her deserved everything.

He kept stroking her clit, listening to her breath grow rougher and faster, and he slid his other hand up her shoulder, up her neck, then spread his fingers over her jaw. Her neck arched higher, as she stretched under his touch. Her mouth was still red, lipstick perfect. He imagined that she bought lipstick with staying power just so she could look like this while she fucked.

Alex slid his thumb between her parted lips, into her heat, and she sucked.

The sensation punched him in the gut and made his desperate cock throb in pain.

“Fuck,” he growled, sliding his thumb deeper as he circled her clit faster.

She moaned and sucked harder, her hips working against his touch in tiny little thrusts, as if she couldn’t stop herself from fucking his hand.

“That’s it,” he murmured, leaning in until his mouth was near her ear. “That’s what you like.” Her groan vibrated through the bones of his thumb and straight into his entire nervous system. Fuck, he wanted that pretty little red mouth around his cock. He wanted her moaning for him, sucking at him, trying to make him come, because that was what she fucking needed.

The heat of her mouth slid away as she pulled back with a cry. The pain of her nails in his skin brightened as she clutched tighter. “Oh, God,” she sobbed as her hips jumped. Then her words dissolved on a sob of pleasure as he felt the spasms take her over. Her scream echoed down the river as he pressed her tighter to the railing and made her ride every wave of her orgasm.

“Please,” she finally begged, and he stilled his hand. Her clit jumped under his fingers as she shivered one last time.

His thumb was pressed to her bottom lip. Her mouth glistened with moisture. She was calming now, but his breath shuddered from his throat as he tried to control his need. He finally managed to ease back, slipping his hand free from her soaked panties. His fingers felt too cold without the heat of her pussy around them.

She finally opened her eyes. “Oh,” she breathed. He was trying to grab some control, but her hands ventured up his chest and then behind his neck. She tried to pull him down. Alex shook his head.

“Give me a second.” If he kissed her now, he’d lose it. He’d fuck her. He would fall to his knees and beg her for it, and nobody wanted that. So Alex let his head tip back and he breathed the cool night air and watched stars wink in and out of the traveling clouds.

He could do this. He could wait. Because if he didn’t, she’d call it a good date and keep it secret and go back to her life. He knew it from how she’d said no to a ride at first, and then how she’d hidden him away in a tourist trap, and used him for a little night adventure that no one else would see.

If they fucked, the adventure would be complete. Where was the fun in that?

His dick protested that there’d be loads of fun in that, but he managed to ignore it.

“Let me,” Sophie murmured, her hands sliding down now. Down his chest to his belly, then to his belt. His heart twisted so hard he thought it might have torn free of something important.

Let me...let me touch your cock, set it free, get my pretty little hot mouth around it until I suck you dry.

Oh, fuck.

He stepped back with a pained laugh. She frowned in complete confusion.

“Next time,” he said hoarsely, shaking his head at his own strained patience.

“What next time?”

“The next time I see you.” He knew by the way she winced that he’d been right.

“No,” she said. “This time.” Her fingers hooked into his belt and tugged him closer. His feet took a step before he could convince his body that he really meant to say no.

He huffed another half-tortured laugh and closed a hand over both of hers. “You’re trying to tell me there won’t be a next time, aren’t you?”

Her gaze slipped away from him. She cleared her throat.

Alex smiled. “And I’m telling you there will be.”

“I can’t. You don’t understand. This isn’t...a thing. It can’t be. And you’re leaving in a few days. So...”

“So. There’s tomorrow. Unless you have other plans.”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off.

“Even if you have other plans.”

That narrowed her eyes. He wanted to smile, but he suspected there might be a temper under those mild manners. Sophie raised her chin. “You can be as bossy as you want, but there’s no reason for me to see you again. I already got what I needed.”

Oh, he smiled now. A wide smile full of every filthy thought he was thinking. He stepped closer again, backing her into the railing, just as she’d been earlier when she was coming.

“Oh, Sophie,” he whispered. Her fingers tightened around his belt as he raised a hand to brush his knuckles over her jaw. “I can tell by how hard you sucked my thumb before you came that you didn’t get half of what you really need.”

When his thumb touched her lip, her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment as her breath whispered over him. Then she jerked her chin away and shoved him.

Alex stepped back, but he was still smiling. “Come on, darlin’. I’ll give you a ride home.”

“I won’t invite you in.”

“I didn’t ask to come in.”

She stared at him for a moment, then raised her chin and brushed past him. Alex watched her walk. Her hips swayed as enticingly as ever, but he could see she wasn’t quite steady. Next time, she’d be too weak to move. He’d make sure of it.

CHAPTER FIVE

“HI, DAD,” SHE called out as the screen door slammed behind her.

“Hey, princess,” his deep voice called from the back of the ranch house.

Sophie headed toward the bright yellow kitchen and the scent of coffee. He was there, of course, hands warming around a steaming mug and eyes on the cattle prices in the newspaper. He could get more current figures online, which she’d explained a million times. She’d even bookmarked it on his laptop for him, but he hated the computer. Which was why she was here.

“Everything good?” she asked, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

He patted her arm and nodded. “Things are fine.”

She grabbed a cup of coffee and headed for the small office tucked between the kitchen and his bedroom. The ancient office chair creaked ominously when she took a seat, but the sound made her smile. She’d loved this chair when she was little and would sit in the corner and color while her dad worked. The casters and base were made of steel, the seat itself upholstered in thick, ugly green leather. It would never wear out. It was steady. Like her dad.

“Did you get the new bank statement?” Sophie asked.

He still banked with a local ranching bank that sent paper statements. There was no talking him out of this. She’d tried.

“Honey, I’ve told you you don’t need to do this.” He edged into the little office and slipped the statement onto the ledger.

“Dad.” She didn’t want to have this conversation for the thousandth time.

“We’re fine out here. There’s no reason for you to spend almost an hour driving out here to be holed up in this office. A young woman like you should be enjoying life in town.”

She’d been opening her mouth to protest, but she closed it now. Oh, she was enjoying life in town plenty. Thank God she was facing the desk, because she could feel the red-hot blush that flashed over her face. She heard her father walk back into the kitchen.

Last night had been her best adventure yet. It had been hot and naughty and satisfying and perfect. And so completely wrong. One hundred percent wrong. Not because she’d let a near stranger on a motorcycle get her off on a highway pull-off in full view of anyone who might have decided to pull in. No. That she could definitely live with. But because Alex didn’t know who she was. More importantly, because Sophie knew exactly who she was.

The daughter of Dorothy Heyer. The heir of all the heartbreak and scandal her mother had caused. For Sophie. For her stepfather and brother. And for Alex’s family, too.

Not that Alex’s father was somehow absolved from the affair. Sophie was no believer in boys will be boys. The idea disgusted her. Both of them had been married. Both had had families. And both had ruined lives with their reckless choices. But in a small town twenty-five years ago, no one else had seen it that way.

If they’d run off, if they’d abandoned children and spouses... Well, sometimes men did things like that. But women? That just wasn’t natural. It wasn’t right. Dorothy Heyer hadn’t been right. And Sophie wasn’t right either. She just made sure that no one else knew that.

Especially not Alex Bishop.

“God,” she whispered, dropping her face into her hands. That had been such a bad idea. But he’d seduced her. With his bike and his tattoos and that hard smile and then Alaska. How was she supposed to have resisted that?

With your legs closed, a little voice inside her admonished. Sophie clenched her teeth and wished she could slap that little voice. All of those things were the perfect invitation to open her legs, not close them. And he’d been so confident, too. So in control.

The nerves between her legs twitched at that thought. Of his hands on her, so steady and strong and calloused, of the way he’d kissed her, fingers cupped to the back of her head to position her just the way he wanted.

Oh, God, that had been hot. It was exactly what she always wanted. He was the perfect temporary adventure, the man she was hoping for every time she flirted with a stranger at a bar. And he was Rose Bishop’s son.

“Damn it,” she whispered.

“Something wrong?” her dad called.

“No! It’s fine.” She needed to concentrate. An hour or two of work, and then she could enjoy her day off. Spend some time in the garden. Do some work around the house.

Sophie crossed her legs, smoothed down her skirt and opened the statement. Everything looked good. She took good care of the books. There’d been a hiccup when her brother had dropped out of college and played at being in charge for a few months. A hiccup that had taken years to straighten out, but everything was right as rain now. Her dad was still scraping by with his small cattle ranch, but just barely.

It had been a much larger ranch twenty-five years ago. Thousands of acres leased and deeded. Not a lot of the acreage had been flat, but the hills had been good summer grazing. Then Greg Heyer’s wife had disappeared. His kids had needed tending. He’d let things go that summer. The next year, beef prices had plummeted. He’d sold off land and leases and cattle. The year after that, a drought had hit hard. It hadn’t let up for three years. He’d sold off more. Now he was down to a tenth of what he’d owned before, and he was almost seventy years old and hired out some of the rougher work.

Sophie finished balancing the account and reached for the basket that held the bills. This part always made her chest tight, but it was okay. Her dad was fine. With her help, he could keep this place going for another decade if he wanted to. He didn’t seem to want to sell, and she wasn’t going to try to talk him into it. As hardscrabble as it was, this place was his life.

“Before I forget,” her dad said, his voice just behind her in the doorway, “your mail is in the bedroom.”

“Thanks.”

“You should really change your address.”

“I’m not going to stay in Uncle Orville’s house forever, Dad. I don’t want to bother changing my address just to have to change everything back again.”

“It’s been a year, Sophie. I think you’re plenty settled into town now. Why in the world would you want to come back out here?”

Because this was her home. Because he was her family. Because she took care of things for him and she always would.

But living in town did have its advantages. Privacy, namely. Granted, on those occasions when she met a man who seemed to push her buttons, she preferred going back to his hotel room. It was less conspicuous that way. No neighbors to notice and comment. No lifelong acquaintances to realize who Sophie really was. Only tourists and seasonal men. Just the way she wanted it.

Sophie opened the credit-card bill and noticed that her brother had been making a lot of ebook purchases again. It felt strange to resent the way he spent money on books. She was a librarian, after all. But it wasn’t that her brother was overspending on books, it was that he spent his time getting obsessed with learning some new skill he was convinced would make him successful. Gaming online auctions or selling Western crap on websites or starting his own sales lead business for web courses or a hundred other things that he’d purchased books about and then lost interest in. God knew what it was this time. Two years ago, he’d decided to sell mail-order tumbleweeds for people in the East throwing cowboy-themed parties. Then he’d realized he’d actually have to go out in the heat or cold and search for tumbleweeds. They were never around when you wanted them.

“Where’s David?” she asked, thinking if he was around she’d at least ask what he was up to.

She glanced back to see her dad’s mouth flatten. “Sleeping.”

Still asleep at 10:00 a.m. That was practically blasphemy on a ranch. But even their dad was starting to realize that David was never going to take over the ranch. It was hard for him to accept that the remaining land would be sold someday, but there it was. David could do all the work, but he didn’t love the land. Sophie loved the place and she could stumble along well enough, but she was too indoorsy for ranching. Dresses and kitten heels had no place in a corral. Not unless a big, rough man had her pinned up against a fence and—

Damn. Alex was going to haunt her for a long time.

“You want me to wake him?” her dad grumbled.

Sophie flashed him a smile. “Only if you want an excuse to get his butt out of bed.”

He laughed. “I need his help later with the yearlings. I’d better let him get his beauty sleep or he’ll be grouching around here all day.” He leaned a hip against the counter and sipped his coffee.

“You know, you don’t have to keep me company. I’m not a guest.”

He shrugged one lean shoulder, and Sophie wondered if he was getting thinner. “It’s nice to talk to you. Gets a little lonely out here these days.”

“I’m off today. Why don’t I stay and make a big lunch?”

Her dad huffed. “That’s not what I meant. Go shopping. Go have lunch with your girlfriends. Don’t spend your day off with an old man, Sophie.”

“I like being here.”

“Well, I’m afraid I’ve got a busy day later. I can’t hang around all day for lunch.”

She narrowed her eyes and watched him for a long while, trying to read his face. Was he lying just to stop her from staying around? But he gave away nothing. He just looked back at her with those pale blue eyes framed by familiar wrinkles from spending too many years in the sun.

“Okay,” she finally conceded. “But I’ll make something good for dinner before I leave. I’ll throw it in the Crock-Pot and it’ll be ready by five-thirty.”

“Thanks, pumpkin. You take good care of me.” He came over to give her a kiss on the crown of her head, then headed for the back door. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Bye, Daddy.”

Sophie tried to ignore the embarrassing amount of pride she felt at his words. She did take good care of him. She’d been doing it since she was five, and she’d be doing it until she was sixty. He needed her. She was never going to walk away from that.

With the house quiet now, Sophie was done with the bookkeeping in no time. Next week it’d be time to take stock of supplies and order in anything they needed for winter, but today’s work was pretty simple. She tidied up the desk and headed to the kitchen to throw some meat and veggies into the slow cooker. She wouldn’t be around to make gravy, but she set out a jar of premade. That man loved gravy. Hopefully, he’d clean up the leftovers with a few slices of buttered bread while no one was looking and put a few pounds on his skinny frame by next week.

Once she’d tidied up, Sophie went to her dad’s room, gathered up his dirty clothes and started a load of wash. She ignored her brother’s closed door. He’d have to learn to fend for himself if he was ever going to live on his own someday. But he probably never would. He’d gotten too used to being taken care of, and Sophie knew she had to take a lot of the blame for that. Something else to feel guilty about.

Speaking of...even the thought of the word guilt led her back to Alex Bishop.

Would she see him again? He’d seemed awfully sure that she would. And he’d been right about one thing. She did want more. A lot more.

She wanted to be near him, wanted to feel the way her skin prickled at the very sight of him. And the way she felt small and submissive when his big hands touched her. God, the man had gorgeous hands. And arms. And tattoos.

She wanted to lick him. Wanted to fuck him. She wanted to call and keep lying about who she was so she could see him again and do everything they hadn’t done yet.

She was a terrible person, but she tried her best to keep it to herself. It didn’t matter as long as no one knew, as long as no one was hurt. But this had the potential to hurt Alex, herself and both of their families.

Not worth the hot sex, she scolded herself. But the terrible person inside her disagreed. Strongly.

She checked over the house one more time before leaving, slamming the door in the hopes that her brother would get his lazy butt out of bed. But by the time she got into her car and started for home, she wasn’t thinking about her brother. She was thinking about Alex. Again.

With her car window rolled down, the wind reminded her of the cool air against her body the night before. Just the ride on his bike had been a turn-on. The feel of his body guiding the beast beneath them, the way he’d fitted between her knees, the scent of his leather coat, the rumble of the engine. Then the speed. The power. The wind. The shimmering, sizzling knowledge that the ride was dangerous. Even deadly. It had all added up to the most arousing experience she’d had in years.

And then he’d slipped his hand over her thigh. The same bolt of pure animal lust she’d felt at that touch speared through her right now.

Sophie squirmed, then squeezed her thighs together, catching the pleasure between her legs and squeezing it tighter.

That first touch had been a rush, but then an even larger pleasure had pulsed through her, growing bigger and bigger as his hand slid higher and higher. The knowledge that he’d touch bare skin, that he’d know, that he’d find out. She wasn’t what people thought she was. She wasn’t a shy, modest local girl afraid to venture far from home. She was naughty. She was wicked. And she loved it.

His hand had finally found the top of her stocking. He’d discovered that secret. And unlike most men, he hadn’t missed a beat. One touch of her wickedly bare thigh, and Alex had pulled the bike over to discover whether or not she meant it. She did. She always did.

Sophie squeezed her thighs together again, gasping at the shock of that sweet pleasure.

God.

She could deny anything she wanted, but he saw the truth.

Sophie bit her lip, trying to bite back her need, but it didn’t work. She wanted to see him again. He’d touched her exactly the way she needed to be touched. He was right. She needed more.

She slowed the car to a stop at the side of the road and calmly withdrew a tube of lip balm from her purse. She smoothed it over her abused bottom lip, then stared at herself in the mirror. Her face looked calm, but her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright with an excitement she recognized.

She had to tell Alex the truth, but as she slipped her sunglasses on and pulled back onto the narrow dirt road, she could no longer pretend that she regretted the lie.

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