Then, suddenly, she wanted her own bike again.

As a rider, AJ understood that riding on the back of someone else’s bike was nothing like being at the controls of your own. And once you had your own bike, typically you never wanted to ride behind someone else again.

But he understood why Teresa associated riding with what had happened to her.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

She nodded, her jaw set in a determined line. “This is definitely what I want, what I need.”

AJ looked to Pax, who shrugged as Teresa finished signing the papers on her new Harley, a sweet Softail Rocker C in a hot red color she’d chosen for herself. Not too small, not too big, just perfect for her height and leg length. She’d just whipped out her checkbook and paid for it, said she had plenty of money and it was damn time she started riding again.

Once everything was signed, sealed and delivered, she climbed aboard her bike. AJ had to admit she looked damn sexy.

“Honey, that bike fits you like it slid out of the factory with your name on it,” Pax said, walking around Teresa’s new bike.

She slid her palm over the handlebars and grinned. “She purrs. Damn, it feels good to straddle a bike again. It’s been too long.” She lifted her gaze to Pax and AJ. “Let’s ride.”

They did, taking a tour of the Black Hills again, this time on another route that would give Teresa a chance to test her bike along the steep curves of a winding mountain road. AJ was out in front at first, but then he drifted back and let Teresa take the lead. He figured after all this time not riding, she’d want a full face of mountain air and the chance to run along the switchbacks.

Besides, he liked watching her braid flipping behind her back as the wind blew it, and the way her body seemed at one with the bike on the curves. She hadn’t forgotten how to ride. No real rider ever did, no matter how long they’d been without a bike.

She led them up the hills, from one peak across another. It grew colder up here, and as AJ pulled up alongside Teresa, her cheeks were red. Her gaze drifted to his and she had a wide grin on her face. She goosed the throttle and tore off ahead of him.

Yeah, it was in her blood again. He knew the feeling.

She finally brought them back down, ending up on Main Street.

It was dark now, and the party was going full swing on the street and in the bars. They parked and Teresa’s face was flush from the cold, her cheeks bright cherries as she sported a wide grin.

“Feel good?” Pax asked.

She stretched, putting her hands on her back, then grinned. “It was amazing. I can’t believe I waited so long to get a bike again.”

“It’s about time, then, isn’t it?” AJ slung his arm around her shoulders. Pax took up position on her other side.

“Yeah. It’s about time I started doing a lot of things,” she said, her gaze skirting over both of them. “Let’s go back to that saloon we were in earlier today.”

She already knew where to go and led the way, Pax and AJ behind her.

“Something jazzed her up,” Pax said.

“Yeah. Don’t know what it is, but she’s happy about something.”

“I like the change in her.”

AJ nodded. “Me, too.”

The bar was even more crowded at night than it was during the day. Pax moved in front of Teresa so he could be the lead when they wedged their way in. They found a corner, which was going to be the best they could do until a table or spot at the bar opened up.

“I’ll go get us some beers,” AJ said.

“I want to dance.” Teresa turned to Pax. “Come on.”

AJ laughed. “Lucky you. I’m fetching the beers.”

“Shit.” Pax followed Teresa out on what was definitely not a roomy dance floor. A group of sweaty bodies crammed together like cattle in a pen wasn’t his idea of a good time. But Teresa wanted to dance—so they were going to dance.

She somehow found an inch or two of open space and raised her arms over her head, moving her h*ps to the beat of the music. Pax did his best to get his feet moving, but all he was really interested in doing was watching Teresa. He’d seen her dance in her bar that first night. Watching the way she moved her body, the way she got lost in the music—man, that really got to him. He could sit back and watch that all night. She did the same thing now, only she was dancing with him—for him. Her h*ps locked with his and she wound her arms around his neck, sliding her body from side to side. He gripped her h*ps and held on, his gaze roaming every square inch of her exposed flesh as she undulated against him. Denim against denim, her br**sts brushed his chest as she hung on to his shoulders and dipped her head back.

Yeah, he had to admit that even though he hated dancing, having Teresa’s body rocking against his wasn’t a hardship at all. He slid his arm around her waist and brought her flush against him, took her hand in his and decided it was his turn to lead. He gave a gentle push and twirled her around, then drew her back in, capturing her waist and sliding his hand along her hip. She grinned, then laughed as she caught on to his movements. Then they were moving in unison, her body one with his. She turned in his arms, presenting her back to him, her ass sliding and shimmying across his crotch.

It was just like sex—without the f**king.

Getting a hard-on in the middle of a crowded dance floor was a bad idea, but a man could only handle so much torture, and Teresa rubbing her butt back and forth across straining denim was doing a number on him. He gritted his teeth, grabbed her h*ps and whipped her around to face him, taking her arm and placing it around his neck.

“You’re doing a little dirty dancing here,” he said, rocking his pelvis against hers.

She arched a brow. “You complaining?”

“Hell no. But you’re going to be embarrassed when you have to walk out of this crowd and your partner has a hard-on.”

She shimmied in, pressing closer to said hard-on. “I’m not embarrassed at all. As long as you don’t use it on anyone else.”

He sucked in a deep breath and tried to remember to keep things light and easy with Teresa. He backed off a little, but she only moved in again, raised her leg and draped it over his hip to rock against him.

“I’m tired of being treated like I’m fragile, Pax. Don’t back away.”

“I’m trying to respect where you’ve been and what you went through, Teresa.”

“I appreciate that. Now I just want to be treated like I’m a normal woman.” She moved in, wrapped both arms around his neck. “A normal woman you might want to take to bed.”

He pulled her tighter against him. “You know that’s exactly what I want to do. But you also know the deal.”

She tilted her head back, her green eyes sparkling under the lights of the dance floor. “Yes, I know the deal.”

A deal he knew she wasn’t ready for. Yet. Pax lifted his gaze to the fringes of the dance floor. “AJ’s scored us a table. Let’s go have a drink.”

He took her hand and led her off the floor and toward the table. Okay, so maybe he’d chickened out, but the way she looked at him—the way she made him feel—he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. And he was damn sure she wasn’t ready for him and AJ, no matter what she said.

“Who’d you have to kill to get this table?” Teresa asked as she took a seat and the beer AJ slid her way.

AJ grinned. “I can be charming if I need to be.”

Pax snorted, and AJ slanted a dirty look in his direction.

“Okay, so I might have muscled a couple of puny guys who thought they could take the table.”

“That’s what I thought.” Teresa put her feet up on AJ’s lap and took a long swallow from the bottle of beer. “It’s hot out there on the dance floor.”

“Yeah, you looked pretty hot when you were out there,” AJ said. “For a minute I thought you and Pax were going to get down and dirty right there in front of everyone.”

She laughed. “The thought had crossed my mind. But Pax is too much of a gentleman.”

Now it was AJ’s turn to snort out a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Pax referred to as a gentleman.”

Pax looked affronted. “Hey. I’m not without chivalrous qualities.”

“Please. I’ve seen you in public with women. I know what you’re capable of.”

“Really,” Teresa said. “Do tell.”

“I don’t think you want to hear those stories,” AJ said.

“I do. Tell me.”

AJ shrugged. “Okay. There was that time in Louisville with that cocktail waitress . . .”

Pax frowned, then nodded. “Oh yeah. Fucked her against the wall outside the bar while she was on her break. And don’t forget the two girls in Milwaukee.”

AJ laughed. “Oh yeah. The one who did me under the table in the back of the restaurant.”

Teresa’s eyes widened. “Under the table?”

“Yeah,” AJ said. “That was a memorable night. I nearly choked on my steak.”

“You sure do meet interesting women.”

“We tend to hang out with women who like to have a good time, who enjoy partying and pleasure,” Pax said.

“With no expectation of love and commitment, of course,” Teresa added.

“Of course. It’s all just fun and games,” AJ said.

“Until someone falls in love with one of you. Or both of you.”

AJ picked up Teresa’s hand, slid his fingers in hers. “Now, who would go and do a dumb thing like that?”

TERESA SCANNED PAX AND AJ, HER PULSE POUNDING DOUBLE time. Who indeed? Her body swelled with heat and need, the desire to take on both these men and prove to herself she was still a sexual being.

And maybe that was just libido conjured up by the dancing. Besides, she wasn’t here to satisfy her own carnal desires. She was here with a job to do.

“Any sign of the Fists?”

AJ shook his head. “Not yet.”

She sighed and took a long swallow of beer. “Chasing around looking for them seems like a colossal waste of time.”

“Agreed,” Pax said. “If they’re here—and that’s a big if—we need to plant ourselves somewhere and wait to see if they show up.”

AJ nodded. “Which means either here on Main Street or up at the campground. Those are the two hot spots. If the Fists are here, they’ll hit one of those two places.”

Teresa looked around. “How popular is this place?”

“You don’t come to Sturgis without stopping in here at least once,” Pax said. “Most people come in several times. It’s legendary.”

That’s what she thought. Which gave her an idea.

“Any idea who owns or runs this place?”

AJ leaned over her shoulder and pointed. “Steve Flyton. Heavy-set dude over in the corner bar.”

“I’ll be right back.”

“We’ll go with you.”

She turned and placed a hand on each of their chests. “Then we’ll lose these prime seats and I like it here. I’m going over to talk to Steve.”

“About?” AJ asked.

Teresa lifted her lips. “About a job.”

Pax’s brow lifted. “Why?”

“Because if this is the place to be, what better spot to watch for the Fists? Rather than looking for them, let them come to us. Besides, you guys can be out riding and I can be here working.”

AJ shook his head. “Don’t like that idea. You’d be left unguarded.”

She rolled her eyes. “I hardly need a bodyguard.”

“I agree with AJ. If the Fists do come in here and the guy who killed Larks spots you and happens to know you saw him do the deed, you’re in trouble.”

Okay, so they had a point. “Fine. First things first, let me see if I can wrangle a bartending job out of Steve. Then we’ll work on the rest.”

She waited while they considered it.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Pax said. “We won’t find them riding around in circles.”

AJ shrugged. “Go for it.”

Now they were getting somewhere. Excited, she rose and maneuvered her way through the crowd toward where the mostly balding guy with the rather scraggly brown and gray beard leaned against the edge of the bar. He wore a Flying Heads Saloon T-shirt big enough to cover his ample belly and jeans that balanced precariously low on his hips, and he grinned like he’d just won the lottery when she came up to him.

“Well, hi there, darlin’.”

She introduced herself. “Love your place here. I own a bar in Missouri. I’m jealous of how popular yours is.”

“Yeah, we do pretty well here during the bike rally. We try to keep the beer flowing and the women dancing.”

“You have customers waiting for drinks. You need more help behind the bar.”

He turned and frowned. “Yeah. Some of the kids who work here would rather be partying than working. That means sometimes they don’t show up when they’re supposed to.”

“Need some hands?”

He arched two very bushy eyebrows. “You offering?”

“I am.”

He scratched his beard and studied her. “If you own a bar, I assume you know what the hell you’re doing.”

“I do.”

“I need people to work nights. That’s when I have a hard time staffing.”

“No problem. I’m not here to party.”

“Okay then. Go see that pretty brunette behind the far corner bar. That’s my wife, Sandy. She’ll get you set up and she’ll probably kiss you with gratitude.” He motioned and got Sandy’s attention, then pointed to Teresa.