When he took me to my hotel, I let him in and the kissing turned to fooling around.

The same the next night.

The night after that, I was wiped and so was he. He spent the night but we both slept in our clothes on top of the covers. That was when I found out he worked as early as he did and that was when the spending the night at his house verbal dance began.

I was able to resist twice.

Then he had me.

* * * * *

Now it was now, Carnal had become home, I was in Wood’s bed more than my own (even though we had yet to do the deed) and Tate was still gone.

But for me, he’d always be gone. I used to pretend he didn’t exist; now he simply had.

Any man who slept with a married woman he knew was married and didn’t care didn’t exist.

And any man who could take me for a ride like that, kiss me like that, in less than an hour changing my world, then walk away without looking back and not even call, not for days that turned to weeks that turned to a month definitely didn’t exist.

I peeled off the new bathing suit I bought with Wendy in the shop-a-thon we had the day Dominic, the g*y stylist to all Carnal biker babes, gave me a new look. Wendy had gone with me and had been so overawed by my transformation she forced me to go to the mall with her.

“I gotta admit,” Dominic had said at the time, standing behind me and fluffing my hair while looking at me in the mirror. “I’m thinkin’ you’re my masterpiece.”

I was looking at me in the mirror too and thinking he wasn’t wrong.

He’d taken my dark blonde hair which I hadn’t had cut in over six months and given it bright highlights around my face, some in the back. The effect was dazzling, especially against my tan. I’d always worn my hair just passed my shoulders but it was now down my back, nearly to my bra strap. He cut it to frame my face with a deep, heavy bang and the rest of it in chunky layers that flipped here and there in a glamorous and saucy way that, coupled with the highlights, made even Stella, the Premier Biker Babe’s hair look dowdy.

“You’re a miracle worker,” I breathed as I stared into my hazel eyes that suddenly looked startling green.

“You aren’t the first person who’s said that, darlin’,” Dominic told me without the least hint of humility.

Wendy barely let me pay him (and give him an enormous tip) before she had me out the door and in her CR-V and we headed two towns over to the only mall in the vicinity. Luckily it was a big one and it was a good one because Wendy was determined to get me “out of those clothes that just do not fit you, sistah!”

And she did. We filled her little SUV with bags – skirts, jeans, shorts, t-shirts, tank tops, camisoles, blouses, shoes, boots, underwear and pajamas.

A whole new wardrobe except two sizes smaller.

It was good I was working nights, Bubba’s was busy and I was getting great tips or that shop-a-thon would have bit huge into my nest egg.

But I had to admit, it wasn’t just Wendy. It was me being tan, having fabulous hair, being a biker babe with a biker who liked me on the back of his bike and, most of all, being two sizes smaller.

It had been over five years since I was that size. Before Brad started f**king Hayley and my life disintegrated. It felt like a rebirth mainly because it was.

I tossed my new bathing suit into my new laundry hamper (wicker, I bought it at a cute little country shop that had opened in town the week before). I had five new suits, two tankinis and the only bikini I’d ever owned – it wasn’t a teeny weeny bikini, but it was still sexy (at least I thought so) and therefore it worked for me – for laying out by the pool and two suits for swimming. Then I jumped in the shower. I got out, toweled off, lotioned, spritzed perfume and put on a pair of my new matching undies. They were deep purple with lots of black lace.

I did my makeup (I’d settled on halfway between Krystal and the Old Me and it was working for me), blow dried my hair with a roller brush like Dominic showed me, pulled on a dusty lilac tank that was half tank, half camisole because the straps were thinner than tank but not spaghetti and if I wasn’t careful, my bra straps showed. The tank looked great with my tan, not being conceited or anything but even I had to admit that. I yanked on a new pair of jeans, a wide, thick dark brown belt and my new purple strappy, stiletto-heeled sandals. It took nearly the whole month to get used to traipsing around in high heels for hours – but I didn’t even feel it anymore and the effect on my tips was astounding.

I threw some fresh underwear in my purse, my deodorant, put the guard on my toothbrush and tossed that in as well as a ponytail holder, slung my purse over my shoulder and left my room.

I waved to Ned, he waved back, I got in my car since I was driving to Wood’s later (and Ned would know the sign, he had to be getting used to it by now) and headed to Bubba’s.

Chapter Seven

All the Rest

“Jack and Coke, three Coors bottles and a Tanqueray and tonic,” I ordered from Bubba, looking down at my pad but, even with head bowed and not looking at him, I still teased (as I usually did with Bubba). “And get the lead out, big man. The last order you filled my grandma could fill faster and she’s in a wheelchair.”

“Fuck,” Bubba muttered, my head came up because this wasn’t his usual witty reply to my teasing and I saw he was pale and looking over my shoulder.

I started to turn to see what he was staring at that made him look like he’d seen a ghost but I didn’t get to do so because suddenly my hair was swept from my neck, a pair of abrasive lips were there and an arm had snaked around my belly, pulling me back into a tall, hard body.

“What –?” I started to say as my body went solid but a hand came up and yanked the pad out of mine and tossed it on the bar.

I felt the pencil yanked out of my other hand when I twisted my neck to see Tate had hold of me. Tate with a beard, a full beard. It looked a little straggly but it also looked hot.

His eyes were aimed at Bubba. “Get Wendy to serve her drinks, Bub, Laurie’s on break,” he ordered then he had my hand and he was dragging me down the hall.

“Hey!” I snapped, trying to tug at my hand but he held true and kept dragging me. “Tate!” I cried but he kept going, right by the office, right by the storeroom to the dark, poorly lit, very back of the hall.

Then his hands were at my h*ps and he was pushing me against the wall.

“Tate,” I snapped but he was concentrating on studying my body, his eyes at my chest as his hands slid up my sides to stop with his thumbs right below my br**sts, his fingers splayed at my sides.