“To be honest, I’m surprised to see you here.”

“I almost didn’t come. I’m not a nice man, Juliette. I can’t promise you I’ll be good for you. But I will be good to you.”

“Why?” She wanted to believe him but she’d made a mistake before. Masculinity attracted her. She was a throwback, someone who liked a man to be a man—bold, confident, strong and chivalrous. The last time she’d been blinded by wealth, charm and polished good looks. She thought she’d found her real-life Gatsby with Peter Stant but she couldn’t have been more wrong.

Shooter was none of those things. Upfront and honest to the point of being harsh, he had an old-world quality. A warrior’s soul dressed in the gear of a biker.

“You remind me of things I haven’t touched on in a long time. My parents were old school. You bring that out in me.”

She licked her lips. “I like that.”

“Oh yeah? Why? You trying to take a walk on the wild side? Is this some sort of dream fulfillment? The little librarian trying to live out some sort of romance-book scenario?”

The words made her blink rapidly. “You just went from sweet to asshole in less than three seconds and you’

re questioning me?”

He laughed. “Just checking, I’m no one’s pet project.”

“I’m not interested in playing games, or trying to tame a man. You seem like the type of person who knows who he is and what he wants. It has an appeal. You’re blunt but honest. I like that.”

“You think you can handle it?” His brow furrowed and the corners of his lips turned down.

“I can handle more than you could imagine.” Juliette placed her hands on her hips and returned his stare.

“All right.” He held up his hand in a mock defeat. “I came to invite you to the lake today if you’re free.”

“I actually get off work in about an hour.” She’d been on the clock since seven, bringing inventory up to date and moving on to the usual opening duties.

“I’ll come back here in an hour and half, be ready.”

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Lake Elsinore, pack light, we’re taking my bike.” With a slick smile that made her nipples harden he turned and strolled out of the library, taking her breath with him. What the hell does one wear to a day on the lake with bikers? Her stomach knotted. What’s he going to think of me in my swimsuit? It’d been a long time since she exposed herself to a male. You’re not going to the gym today? You need to be careful or those curves will turn to plumpness. That’s what you’re going to wear to the party? Oh no, that won’t do. Let’s go back to the closet and try it again, you’re looking a little whorish. The negative voice attempted to creep back in. She slammed the door shut.

There was nothing for her in the past. She’d already heard everything it had to say. Most of it hadn’t been good. A skewed self-image wasn’t something she used to have a problem with. But the brain was a sponge. If someone said the same thing to you over and over, you kind of started to soak it in.

She finished up her day at work, questioning her decision. In the end, she went home and took the most logical approach and called her least judgmental and bluntest friend.

“Hey girl, what’s going on?” Joey asked.

“Thank god you picked up. I need some advice.”

The typing stopped on the other side of the phone. “I’m all ears,” Joey said.

“So, remember the guy I met at the bar, Shooter?”

“The sexy-hot biker who stunned us all by showing respect? Yeah, kind of hard to forget.”

“Well…he showed up at work.”

“What?”

Juliette flinched and pulled the phone away from her ear. “Yes. I gave him my card. I knew he might look me up but I assumed he wouldn’t.”

“Why? Clearly he was into you.”

“How could you tell? I thought maybe he wanted to kill time.”