Four years ago a tragedy made Jackson Weldon turn his back on life. He wanted nothing more than doing a gig with his guitar every now and then to put a sandwich on his plate and gas in his tank. But a few dates with Nan Miller several months ago had him finally wanting something more. Her in his bed. Only she walked before that happened and his hunger for her alone has grown until he can't think of anything but her. Nan has lived her life by a plan and she isn't about to mess it up by getting involved with a man going nowhere. That's why she walked out on Jackson, seventy one days ago. Only, she can't get him out of her mind or escape him in her dreams, night or day. So when he comes riding in on his Harley again, she wonders if she should take him up on his offer for an uninhibited weekend. But their no strings ride leads them both to an end that changes everything they ever believed they wanted or deserved out of life. Lightning briefly illuminated the strong curve of his stubble-rough jaw, devilish smile, and raven's wing hair whipping in the wind. Damn, the man had no right to look so sexy in the middle of hell. He stripped off his black leather jacket, pushed her umbrella aside, and leaned in close. “You bait a nice hook, sugar.” “You. You Peeping Tom!” Her search for something sophisticated and deadly to say fizzled as ridiculous. “Careful. You're giving me ideas for a new profession.” She didn't have a chance to reply before his leather jacket descended over her head and his strong arm encircled her. “Tell me how sorry I am later, sugar.” He plucked the inverted umbrella from her, popped it back right, and held it before them as he propelled them toward the back door of the yacht club, not the least daunted by the storm's fury. But then, Nan didn't think much got past Jackson's thick wall. She gritted her teeth, irritated. Both the timing of Jackson's appearance and the man were too welcome for her peace of mind. She tingled from the heat of his arm about her, the feel of his lean, hard body next to her, and the tangy scent of musk and leather enveloping her. “Here we go.” He hustled her into a lit hallway. Anxious to rid herself of his scent, she slid his coat off. Cool air assaulted, making her too aware of the heat from his body behind her, touching her, like he'd said on the phone. Can't you feel me? I'm right up against you. Feel the heat? My hands on you…my mouth. She shivered. The creamy watered silk walls, crown molding, and plush carpet contrasted sharply with her soggy, bedraggled state and she turned to face him, feeling like a swamp rat. He'd moved closer and her chest landed smack up against his hot, very male body. “Where are we?” Drawing back, she teetered, dropping his coat. “Backstage of the ballroom and just where we need to be." He grinned and settled his hands on her hips. When he spoke, his deep voice rumbled right to her core and set off a series of delicious quakes. "It's been a while, sugar. A long while. You hung up too soon last week. We didnt get to the good part.” Nan tried to stop the quakes of desire from spreading by clenching her stomach muscles. It didn't help. Jackson let his shoulders rest on the door behind him and drew her between his jeans-clad, booted legs. She didn't have to look to know how his jeans fit or how his leather boots gleamed. Not a thing about his dark Irish looks and southern bad boy manners had changed. “Yes, a long while,” she whispered past the lump in her throat. A droplet of water ran down her cheek, dripped onto her breastbone, and slithered between her breasts. Jackson's gaze followed its path, heated, then lingered. Nan looked down. Her halter-top gown lay plastered to her body like skin, the wet silk clearly defining the rise of her breasts and nipples.