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her home pedicure and considered the fly fisherman’s story. When it was dry, she stood and sighed. Mr. Hunter didn’t always speak truth. But he was hot and so was she. One night of fun wouldn’t make any difference in the long run.
    She stalked to her closet and glared inside. She’d left the most difficult decision until last. What to wear? Cargo pants and boots, her usual bike gear, just didn’t cut it. She settled for shorts, a tank top and looked grimly at her feet.
    No way was she riding the Harley without boots on. Besides, if she ended up kicking the cook’s ass, she wanted hard leather for impact. Lime-green cowboy boots that cost more than her whole wardrobe screamed “wear us”. She stomped her feet in and strode to her bike, suddenly feeling sexy as hell.
    It didn’t occur to her until she was halfway to his place that she might as well have slapped a sign on her forehead reading “Ye-haw, pardner, I’m ready to ride”.
    The aroma of grilled steak reached her when she hit the end of his drive. The rented cabin was in good shape. Shep Buchanan, the owner, was a local boy gone from home most of the time on business. Nobody seemed to know what his business was.
    Nobody really cared either. He had a house by Point Harmony Lake and threw a big party whenever he was in town. The community counted on him for a fireworks show on the Fourth of July. He had money. Around here, that was pretty much the gold standard for character.
    A motion sensor kicked on and the last part of her ride was illuminated, although branches blocked it in areas, leaving zones of shadow to pass through. Creepy. She felt as though she was riding into a cave as she approached Shep’s cabin. She forgot about the foliage that needed to be clipped when she saw the hunk of muscle leaning on the porch rail watching her arrival. She parked, put her helmet on the seat and walked up the steps.
    “Smells good,” she said. He had on shorts. She’d already seen his chest earlier in the day but feasted her eyes on the quintessential male physique again. Just the right amount of bulk in his arms, muscular abs, hard stomach muscles. Her gaze drifted lower, disappointed when no conspicuous bulge flaunted itself.
    “You want to eat now?” His voice was a deep rasp. “Or do you want to work up a sweat first?” His question hung in the air between them, leaving her in no doubt about what waited behind curtain number two if that was her choice.
    Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, lust almost muting her answer. “Sweat now. Eat later.”
    He threw her a towel, wrapped another around his neck and said, “I hoped you’d say that.”
    He grinned wickedly at her and his eyes mirrored the amber color of the bulb overhead. He pointed at the door. “This time you go first and I’ll ogle your ass.”
    Busted. She hoped her appreciation of his torso had been less obvious. She grinned, letting her hips sway just a little more than usual and her legs stretch a little farther than natural. She felt her breasts bounce under the tank top and was glad she’d left off a bra. Her nipples were hard peaks rivaling his hard-on earlier in the day. She wrapped the towel around her neck, letting the ends dangle over the two perky tips, and walked through the entrance into his cabin.
    “Nice furnishings,” she drawled. One big mat covered the middle of the floor. Nothing else.
    “Yes. I saw you take on those two in the parking lot and thought you might enjoy sparring with me.”
    A lie. She’d seen his SUV today and that vehicle hadn’t been in the convenience store parking lot last night. How did he know about her fight? She uneasily remembered the feel of eyes watching her the night before.
    What the fuck? Was this guy stalking her? She tightened her grip on the towel and scowled at him. “I hope you are a martial artist or something, because a man should feel like he has a fightin’ chance when I kick his ass.” She would wipe the mat with him and work