She was gone.

  His wolf howled. Every nerve in his body tingled, and he leaned toward the open window, sucking in the last trace of her scent.

  Red and blue lights flooded the road as a state trooper flashed past in pursuit of the biker. Luke grinned.

  “Fly, baby. Fly,” he whispered into the night.

  He knew that high. That thrill that came from being chased. From knowing he’d get away, if only by the skin of his teeth. He nearly stomped on the gas to try to catch up, even though he had about as good a chance as that cop did. But he didn’t because he was supposed to be through with all that.

  So he forced himself to drive at that painfully slow pace, licking his lips against a parched feeling that hadn’t been there before.

  Her. His wolf sniffed the air. Want her. Need her.

  “Sure, buddy.” Luke snorted. “That’s the last we’ll ever see of her.”

  The second he said it, his chest started to ache, and his wolf threw its head up in a low, mournful howl. Like he’d just passed up the chance of his life or a lottery ticket had just cartwheeled past in the breeze and he hadn’t even made a grab for it. Like destiny had flashed him a smile instead of a sneer for the first time ever, and he didn’t even know how to react.

  “Forget it.” He slapped the wheel and straightened his shoulders. He needed to stick to his plan, not lust after a hot ass with a death wish. There was a reason he’d traded his old life for a beat-up old pickup and a crumpled map pointing the way north. The road home, if there still was such a place.

  Well, the place was still there. Most of the people, too. That much, he’d heard through the shifter grapevine. But North Ridge, Colorado, had changed a lot since he’d left, and he had, too. Neither of them for the better.

  Forgot about that. Speed up. We can still catch her, his wolf urged.

  Luke shook his head. Too late.

  He drove on, digesting the sinking feeling in his gut. Twenty miles later, he pulled off the highway at a floodlit crossroads with a gas station, a bar with a flashing Michelob sign, and not much else.

  Ten beers on tap here at Louie’s Bar, a sign blinked.

  He licked his lips. Beer wasn’t what he’d been thirsting for, but it wouldn’t hurt.

  Live music, the sign next to it announced.

  Yeah, he could hear the country tune already, and it wasn’t half bad.

  Rooms, said another sign, though one of the two O’s was out.

  He could sleep in the back of the pickup, but a shave and a shower would help in the morning before his unannounced visit to Twin Moon pack — the one and only stop he’d planned between Phoenix and Colorado. There was still too much rogue in him to waltz right onto another wolf pack’s turf and stand half a chance of avoiding a fight. And anyway, he’d already done enough fighting to last a lifetime.

  So he pulled into the parking lot, stepped out of the truck, and entered the bar. At first sight, it was just like any other bar in any other two-horse town in Arizona. Same stale beer smell. Same sticky floor. Same dinged-up barstools, dim corners, and thrumming bass guitar. But one thing was different. One thing stood out like a rose among thorns.

  Her. The blonde with the long legs standing at the bar.

  Chapter Two

  Luke spotted the woman the second she spotted him, and he tried tearing his eyes away. He really tried. But he couldn’t. Just couldn’t.

  Her long legs tapered into leather boots with those damn tassels, teasing him. Golden hair cascaded over her shoulders. Bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief, after a split-second’s pause in which he saw fear and loneliness. At least, he thought so. But that just went to show how she messed with his brain, because there was no way a woman like her would be acquainted with either of those emotions, right?

  When their eyes locked, time stopped for a second — a full minute? an hour? — before lurching on. As if the earth had stopped spinning, and he and she were the only two who’d noticed. His heart stopped, too, and his whole body warmed.

  Mine, his wolf hummed in a low, hungry tone.

  Then, whack! The door swung shut, slamming Luke in the back.

  He shook himself back to his senses. Whoa. Had time stopped or was that just him?

  The hubbub of the bar went on without missing a beat. The singer was still crooning, a couple of out-of-step dancers still swaying, the waitresses still bustling through the Friday night crowd. But something in him felt different than before.

  Her nostrils flared just like his did, testing the air.

  Shifter, his brain said, recognizing the unmistakable scent of wolf.

  Her! It’s her! His wolf jumped up and down. The daredevil on the bike.

  She broke into a grin, and he wondered if she’d heard. But even as a shifter, there was no way she could read his mind, just like there was no way he ought to be able to read hers.

  Nope. No way he could hear her think something like, Yum, as she looked him over.

  That had to be in his mind, or an assumption from the look in her eye. The one that definitely said, Yum.

  There were about six guys fawning over her, one less worthy than the next, and Luke just about growled. Then someone stepped up, blocking his view, and he really did growl.

  “Hold it,” the bouncer said, eyeing Luke’s tattoos and the scar that ran down his right arm. A three-hundred-plus-pound bouncer who bristled and stood at full height — a little shorter than Luke’s six feet, but twice as wide.

  Luke glared, and a second later, the bouncer wavered and stepped aside.

  Yeah, that was the way it usually went. And a good thing, too, because his wolf was quick to rile up — and showing his secret side in a bar full of humans was never a good idea. Especially not with the leggy blonde looking at him like that.

  She ignored the hungry huddle around her and stared at him.

  His blood rushed. His heart rate tripled, and his inner wolf ordered him to march over and claim her as his own. Not as his own for the night, but really, truly, his own. Forever.

  Mine! his wolf clamored. Mate!

  And Jesus, what the hell was that all about?

  Luke struggled to keep his crazy beast leashed. Give it up, already.

  Will never let her go, his wolf declared.

  He took her in for a moment longer, glued to those intense, flashing eyes that were even bluer than the tank top she wore, showing off an athletic figure. Proud, straight shoulders told the world she was no pushover. All feminine on top, all cowgirl below, with her worn jeans and leather boots.

  His wolf whimpered, dreaming of touching her skin, of playing with her hair. Hair so rich and gold, he knew the color didn’t come from a bottle. This woman was all natural, in every way.

  All mine, his wolf growled so fiercely, he nearly gave in to the urge to stride over, glare the other guys off, and buy that woman a drink. They’d get to talking, then dancing, and before long, the two of them would head out the door to a more private place, like one of the rooms upstairs. Because he wanted her. Needed her like he’d never needed anything before.

  So, go get her. To hell with that turning-over-a-new-leaf shit, the dark voice said.

  He took one step forward, then pulled up short.

  A month ago, he would have walked up to her without thinking. Hell, a week ago, too. But everything had changed in the intervening time. Ever since he’d heard the news from North Ridge, Colorado, a switch had flipped in him. It was time to man up and end his bad boy ways. Time to go home and help a struggling pack he’d turned his back on years ago.

  Not time to fool around with a she-wolf, no matter how gorgeous she was.

  So he put on his best poker face and sat at a table with his back to her. Better not send a hungry she-wolf the wrong signals.

  But what if the signals are all right? his wolf protested.

  “Can I get you a drink, honey?” the waitress leaned over, showing off her boobs. A drink and anything else you want, her body language said.

  He didn’t want anything else — unless that blonde was on the menu. He’d love that, but damn. Not tonight.

  He ordered a beer and did his best to focus on the baseball game running on the TV. A minute later, he blinked and realized it was football.

  So much for focusing on anything but the blonde.

  Her scent teased him from across the room — even a room as pungent and crowded as this. He could feel her eyes on him. He could hear the vibration of her footsteps on the floor. Never mind the dozens of other feet clomping around the place — the light tap of hers stood out. And crap, she was coming his way. Didn’t she know he had sworn off living close to the edge? Didn’t she know he had a mission to fulfill?

  Apparently not, because he sensed her approaching as if he’d known her his whole life. When she placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned close to his ear, long, silky locks tickled his cheek.

  “Come and dance, stranger.”

  She had to shout above the music, but to him, it was a whisper, and her voice tangoed through his blood. Low. Sultry. Playful. And confident. Confident that she would get exactly what she wanted.

  As in, him.

  He gritted his teeth. It was a test. It had to be. Fate was checking how far it could push him before he gave in.

  “Come and dance.” She slid her fingers along his collar, featherlight.

  Every other sound in the place faded. All he heard was her voice. All he wanted to hear was her voice.

  “No thanks.” He forced the words through his teeth.

  Are you nuts? his wolf cried.

  When she stepped in front of him and placed a hand on her hip, the background lights shot a halo through her hair.

  Angel. Devil. Temptation on two feet.

  She cocked her head, looking straight at him, and his jeans instantly grew tight. “You don’t want to dance?”

  “Believe me, I want to.” Jesus, did he want. “But I can’t.”

  She looked him up and down. Slowly. Torturously. Undressing him with eyes that flashed, telling him she liked what she found.

  “Can’t?” She tossed her hair. “You look pretty capable to me.”

  She leaned in to tease his collar again, and his eyes shut for a moment. God, how he’d like to show her how capable he was.

  The sweet scent of arousal wrapped around him, and it wasn’t just coming from her. His deeper, muskier scent was mixed in there, too, and it was all too easy to imagine getting naked with her.

  “Shouldn’t is more like it.”

  “Shouldn’t?” She lifted one perfect eyebrow. Her hips swayed like she was already on the dance floor.

  God, she made it so, so hard to remember all the reasons he had for being good.

  Just say yes, his wolf said. Yes, I want to dance.

  “Sorry,” he said, gritting the words out over the yes poised on his tongue. A tongue he could already picture sliding over her lips. Parting them. Parting other sections of her body, too, and tasting her deep. Sliding along her—

  He clenched his fists under the table and cleared his throat. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”

  “Ha.” She laughed. “Try again.”

  He scowled. That was the hardest part about changing — getting other people to believe you. The biker pack he’d run with had thought he’d been joking, too.

  “I mean it,” he growled a little too fiercely.

  That growl had shut up the meanest, ugliest, most brutal members of his old pack, but she didn’t bat an eye.

  She turned the closest chair around and straddled it. “Well, that sounds like a story I have to hear.”

  “Long story,” he warned.

  “Got plenty of time.” She plucked the lime from the neck of his bottle, held it between her lips, and sucked.

  The sparks that had been shooting around in his groin exploded into fireworks.

  “I turned over a new leaf once,” she mused.

  “Yeah?”

  She looked up. Wow. Did eyes really come in that bright a shade of blue?

  “I gave it up after a day.”

  He grinned in spite of himself.

  “Want to know the moral of the story?” She put both elbows on the table and leaned close. So close, he could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo. Her hair brushed his hands. He sat perfectly still, holding back a shiver of need.

  “Moral?” That word, he hadn’t had much use for over the past couple of years.

  “The moral of the story is, you can’t change who you really are, deep down inside.”

  Just what he was afraid of, not that he’d admit it, of course. And anyway, he got sidetracked, because there it was again — that flicker of fear and sadness in her eyes. Just a momentary flash that might have been his imagination. Must have been, because when he looked closer, she was all sass and confidence again.

  “Why would a man like you want to turn over a new leaf?”

  He pursed his lips. “Been bad.”

  She leaned closer, and the top of her peach-colored bra showed. “What if I like bad?”

  Sweet Jesus, he was going to die from desire.

  She dropped her voice and went on in a whisper. “After all, it’s not often a she-wolf can find a guy capable of fulfilling her needs. On the dance floor, that is.”

  His cock swelled against the denim of his jeans. Yeah, he was capable, all right. And his wolf side was more than willing to indulge her in anything she desired. Still, he resisted, even though he could barely remember why any more. Hell, he could barely think.

  Needs. We have needs, his wolf howled.

  He’d never felt more twisted inside, like a whole wrestling match was going on inside his soul.

  If she’d been human, he might have thought her a little too loose and easy. But shifters had a whole different level of sexual appetite, and she was simply going after what her wolf soul needed, just like he might if he wasn’t trying to prove himself.

  “Believe me, I wish I could. But I have to say no.”

  Her brow furrowed, telling him he was the first man who’d ever turned her down. He had to be, because who would be fool enough to reject a woman like her? The place was full of other candidates for her attention, all salivating over her every move.

  She shrugged, wrapped a hand around his, and guided his beer bottle to her mouth. After a long, slow sip, she licked the foam off her lips.

  “So, have you started?” she asked in a husky voice, still an inch away from his lips.

  “Started what?” he asked a little breathlessly.

  “Turning over that leaf.”

  Leaf? What leaf? His wolf wagged its tail.

  “What do you mean?” he managed.

  “Well, if you already turned it over — okay. I guess I’d better let you wallow in your lonely misery.”

  He hadn’t been wallowing or lonely before he laid eyes on her, but suddenly, that was exactly how he felt.

  Her face brightened, and she went on. “But if you were just thinking about a change, tomorrow would be just as good. Because tonight would definitely be more fun on the old side of the leaf. I guarantee it.”

  He leaned back and pointed at her with the one finger not wrapped around his bottle. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a devil, sweetheart?”

  She grinned a mile wide and blinked innocently. “Who, me?”

  She’s got a point, his wolf said. We can start tomorrow.

  Was the beast kidding? He was supposed to be atoning for his sins.

  “Why not start tomorrow?” she echoed.

  On the other hand, maybe she was right. Tomorrow was just as good a time to become the new him. The haircut and vehicle trade didn’t really count. Technically, he was still in the planning stages of a new life. One more night in his familiar old role — long nights in bars, fast bikes, and hard-hitting fights — wouldn’t hurt, right?

  Right! his wolf cheered.

  She stood with a grin and stuck out her hand. No surprise there — she had a killer tight grip.

  “I’m Carly. And you are?”

  He hesitated. For years now, he’d been going by his road name. A name he’d been planning to drop along with his old ways. But if he wasn’t quitting until tomorrow…

  “Bones,” he said, watching her eyes.

  She lifted the other eyebrow and crossed her arms over her perfect rack. “I refuse to call a grown man Bones.”

  He crossed his arms right back. She wanted bad; he’d give it to her. “I refuse to go by any other name.”

  He waited for her reaction, then waited a little more. And…huh. She didn’t give in. All the women he’d ever met in dim bars liked Bones. She didn’t?

  She looked him over again and pursed her lips. “Bruce.”

  He squinted at her against the light. She thought she could guess his name?

  “Not Bruce. Bones.”

  She ignored that completely. “Chuck.”

  He shook his head.

  “Rudy.”

  “Do I look like a Rudy?”

  “Chip.”

  “Chip?”

  “Okay… Homer?”

  They both laughed at her wild guesses. His soul felt lighter, even if his balls grew tighter.

  She went back to looking him up and down, studying him like a new species. Up, down, back again.

  He grinned and leaned back in his chair, knowing she’d never guess. Which meant he’d finally chalk up a point over this she-devil.

  After a pause of consideration, she nodded to herself and whispered, “Luke.”

  The front two legs of his chair tipped back to the floor with a jolt. Holy shit.

  “Luke.” She said it again, nodding like a mother who’d just found the perfect name for her son.

  No one had called him Luke for a long, long time, and hearing it tugged on something inside. Like she’d snagged a little corner of the boy he’d once been and started reeling him out of where he’d been hiding, bit by bit. Or maybe it was the way she said it, like he was a goddamn saint or something.

  “Luke.” She smiled, proud of herself.

  “Luke.” He nodded, ceding her the point.

  Carly and Luke. Sounds good together, his wolf decided.