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t-shirt paired with another pair of tight jeans. She tied her hair back with a band, and she added her sneakers, wishing she had a pair of boots instead. However, it was too warm, especially in LA, to wear boots under most circumstances.
     
    Because she knew the temperature would drop once the sun went down, she grabbed the jean jacket and threw it on the bed beside her keys and pocketbook. She’d probably toss her ID and the necessary cards in her pocket so she didn’t have to carry a purse or anything. It would cramp her style, and it would just be an extra burden anyway.
     
    Checking her reflection in the mirror, Maya debated whether or not she was going to put on makeup. She was still young enough and used enough creams and facial scrubs to rock the fresh face look, but she’d grown accustomed to her appearance in makeup, whether light or heavy. She sighed and decided a minimal effort would be best, so she coated her lashes with a layer of mascara to make her eyes stand out more, and she added a light pink gloss that gave her lips the wet look.
     
    She smiled now, satisfied, and checked the time. She was a little ahead of schedule, which meant she could stroll over to the Wheelie Bar rather than firing up the convertible for no reason. The UV rays were already gone for the day, and with the sun nearing the end of its cycle, the breeze had picked up. It would be a pleasant walk.
     
    And if she went home with Vance again, she wouldn’t have to delay the pleasure by driving it back to the motel.
     
    Maya had to admit, she wondered what Vance would be like if he hadn’t locked himself down in the desert with a biker gang. He was obviously intelligent, and she was sure he could have been very successful in the professional world. But there was a ruggedness about him that might have made him restless living in the suburbs. Would he have eventually sought out trouble anyway, or would he have settled for other adventures, like hiking and roughing it in the mountains?
     
    She couldn’t see him as a doctor, but he had the potential to argue someone to death and debate manipulatively. He would have made a great prosecutor or, if he wanted to dabble in the criminal element, a stellar defense attorney. And if he wasn’t interested in something that required so much education and discipline, he would have had any number of options. He could have run a business. It seemed he practically did that here anyway. Or he could have been a teacher or coach. High school kids loved offbeat teachers with tattoos and an alternative teaching method.
     
    Hell, he could have been a model! He still could, in certain elements, and if she could snap a picture of him at some point, Maya wanted to take it back to her agent and see if they couldn’t set something up with one of the biker magazines. They could always use a false name for him or not credit him at all, if Vance wanted to steer clear of being noticed.
     
    All of these things might have been preferable to Maya had she been looking for a long-term relationship. How difficult would it be as someone so easily recognized to be with an outlaw who lived in the middle of a vast desert and probably held a degree of notoriety among motorcycle clubs and other illegal organizations across the country? It just wasn’t realistic.
     
    But for Maya’s purposes at this time, she preferred the rough and tumble outlaw. It was like some fantasy coming to life, and she could live it out for a short time and then put it behind her as a fond memory as she moved on with her life and career. She would settle down some day, but this fling with Vance satisfied all of her baser needs for the time being.
     
    She reached the bar and noted that there were far fewer bikes outside than there had been the night before. In fact, as she opened the door, she saw the place was practically empty. Joe was behind the bar again, and there were perhaps ten or twelve guys. Four of them were playing pool, and a few more