Relief washed over Zoya when the county clerk didn't recognize the name Dove St. Clair, and the subsequent name change to Zoya. Roman had been right. The missing heiress was old news, and no one remembered.

At nine-thirty, Roman drove the Camry into the lot at the rental place and reclaimed his Harley. He stuffed the paperwork into the saddlebag and secured her duffle with a bungee cord. He handed her the only helmet, then straddled the seat, and her heart kicked up at the memory how those strong thighs had boxed her in hours earlier.

She eyed the bike from front to back. "What kind is this?" She didn't care about the answer. Only wanted time to work up the courage to actually get on the metal monster.

He grinned. "Street Glide Chopper. It's badass, right?"

Zoya swallowed hard. This might have been a bad decision on her part. The machine had appeared harmless enough parked at the farmhouse, but now that she was standing next to all that black metal and chrome, it looked dangerous. Like the rider. "Yeah. Badass."

He cut his dark eyes over at her and his mouth quirked up. "We're ready to roll. You ready to ride?"

She pulled the helmet on, took her place behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Hold on, baby." The engine came to life, and he shot out of the parking lot onto the highway.

She yelped, tightened her grip, and felt his laughter vibrate against her chest. He was testing her, or trying to scare her. She wasn't sure which. Zoya Hart wouldn't be fazed, but Zoya St. Clair's stomach spiraled. She was anything but a biker chick.

He took the ramp onto the interstate and weaved in and out of traffic with such ease, it was like a choreographed dance with him leading. The wind tore at his hair, whipping strands at the nape of his neck.

As soon as he got out of the city, he took the first exit onto a state highway. Apparently, he was taking the scenic route. Fine by her. Having her arms wrapped around him, feeling the muscles in his back flex against her, and the vibration between her legs, turned out to be a good combination.

As they rode, she let her mind drift to planning the wedding—and facing Marion. As soon as Zoya got home, she'd find a dress online and have it shipped overnight. Roman would need a suit. She closed her eyes and thought back to the banquet and how handsome he'd been dressed up. But he looked good in everything—and nothing. Especially nothing.

Her thoughts bounced around between style, fabric, flowers, and cake. Even with a simple ceremony, tradition was important. Lace. She wanted a dress with lace. She could wear her mothers, but it was in storage. Fiona had a key to the place, but she might not find it among all the other stuff. But she needed to contact her and ask her to give her away. Other than Stella, Fiona was the closest person she had to family.

She shook her head. This would be more complicated than she first thought. Whatever she decided, news of her pending nuptials had to be kept secret.

Facing Marion didn't frighten Zoya anymore because she had Roman now. One look at him and Marion would know she'd met her match. Like when Dad was alive. Marion never crossed him but she had no reason. He gave her everything she wanted until he got too sick to care.

A lump formed in Zoya's throat. She hated her step-mother with good reason. Had it not been for Stella, Dad would have never known about Marion's affairs. The trainer. The pool boy. The tennis pro. By now, surely she'd set her sights higher. Those guys wouldn't make enough money in their lifetime to satisfy the gold digger. No, she at least needed a CEO.

Zoya couldn't help but smile thinking about the woman's reaction to Roman. Shock wouldn't describe it. Weird little Zoya married to an ex-con. Roman was right about that, too. Her stepmother would use it against her. Especially with the company's board members, but Zoya was ready for a fight. Because he and the company were worth fighting for, and she intended to keep them both.

Roman stopped at a red light and jarred her back to the present.

He leaned into her. "You doing okay?"

"Yes." The word echoed against the helmet like being in a well. The light changed and this time he eased back onto the road before picking up speed.

Town after town flew by. Some smaller than Arcadia. Zoya tried to concentrate on her surroundings because she'd never been in this part of Louisiana. Banners for festivals and flea markets flashed by. Time slipped away, but as the sun moved behind them, she knew they had to be at least half-way home.

When they reached the city limits of a one-red light town, he brought the bike to a stop in front of a convenience store. Next to it, a taco slash snow cone stand. Odd combination, but the aroma of grilled onions and peppers hung in the air, and Zoya's stomach growled.

Roman spoke over his shoulder. "You get off first. The bathrooms are inside and the last time I was here, they were decent. The tacos aren't bad either."

Zoya dismounted, removed the helmet, placed her hands on her hips and stretched. She was stiff all over and her butt was numb. Roman didn't seem too worse for wear. His windblown hair and face stubble only made him sexier. From inside, two teenaged female clerks gawked and pointed to the word painted on the metal saddlebags. Outlaw.

Roman swung his leg over the bike and adjusted his junk. The two teens widened their eyes. Zoya couldn't blame them. He looked like he deserved the title. If they only knew how bad he was, and by bad, she meant good. She shivered.

"You cold? I have a sweatshirt in my bag." He walked to stand next to her and pulled her into his arms. "Or, we can move the bike around back and I'll warm you up."

Zoya glanced at the teens inside. They were getting an eyeful. "Okay."

Roman sucked in air and coughed. "You're calling my bluff, aren't you?"

"Yes."

He laughed out loud. "Maybe later?"

"Maybe."

"That's my girl." He tilted her chin up and kissed her.

"Before we leave, I'll get us some tacos. There's a park right up the road. We can have a picnic."

Thirty minutes later, Roman found a good spot among the tables in the park and killed the engine. Zoya had never seen a place so beautiful. A thick mixture of elm, oak, cedar and dogwood towered over the area with some of the leaves changing colors.

Crisp, cool air settled over her and she rubbed her arms. Roman pulled out the sweatshirt and draped it around her shoulders. She put it on, and headed to a nearby table where she tore open the sack of tacos and spread the paper bag as a place mat.

He unscrewed the lids on two sodas, passed one over, and joined her. She crunched her food and washed it down with a big gulp of Dr. Pepper. "It's so pretty here." A steady cadence echoed through the forest and Zoya sat straighter. "Is that a woodpecker?"

Roman answered around a mouthful of food. "Uh-huh."

For the next few minutes, she didn't speak, and neither did he. She enjoyed the silence. A nice change from the roar of the bike engine and highway noise. After they finished their meal, Roman gathered the trash and put it in a can a few yards away. He joined her again and looped his arm around her and whispered. "Let's rent a cabin and spend the night."

She scooted around on the bench and laid her head in his lap so she had a great view of those dark eyes. "We're only three hours from home. Don't you want to sleep in your own bed?"

"Sure, but I want to fuck you in a strange place more." He stoked her cheek.

"You did this morning. In the shower. That wasn't strange enough for you?" Overhead a hawk circled and landed in a tall oak. Zoya dragged the scent of damp earth and fermenting leaves into her lungs. The combination along with the trees, birds, and his fingers trailing down her face caused her toes to curl, and her resolve weakened for a moment. She closed her eyes. God, she could drift off to sleep.

"Yeah, that was good but having you pulse against me for two hundred miles has me horny as hell."

She felt the same way, but someone had to be level headed and neither of his heads reacted logically when it came to sex. But the lower one was definitely reacting now. She jerked upright and glared at his crotch. "Stop that! We need to get back on the road."

He followed her to the bike, laughing. "I hate you're wasting a perfectly good hard on."

She took her place and smiled at him. "It isn't like it's the last one you'll ever have."

"It could be. You never know," he quipped, smiling down at her.

"Stop talking."

He laughed harder and fired up the Harley.

By the time they reached Arcadia, it was seven o'clock. When the old house came into view, Zoya's heart sped up. This is where she'd been safe. Made friends. Fell in love. Would she be able to leave here and still be happy? She wasn't sure. What if Roman refused to move? She needed to find out before the wedding because living apart was out of the question.

The thought of being without him overwhelmed her. She tightened her grip to get closer. Feel the warmth of him. He must have sensed her need because he placed his hand on her thigh, and her heart clutched. She wanted to climb inside him and stay there forever. She slipped her hand to his crotch and held it there.

He drove inside the shed, eased to a stop, and turned his head toward her. "What are you doing?"

She jerked off the helmet. "I thought you said if I did that, you'd know what I was doing. Leave the motor running." In a flash, she dismounted and stood next to him. "Stand up."

He pulled his brows together. "I like where this is going and damn glad I invested in a center stand." He kicked it into place to stabilize the bike and dismounted.

She knelt and removed his boots, then made short work of opening his jeans.

He didn't wait for her next move; he pushed pants and underwear off in one steady motion and kicked out of them.

From her vantage point and with the hum of the engine, she imagined it was like a scene from a porno. She bent to remove her shoes, then rose to her full height. He stepped closer, his eyes dark and hot on hers, and her mouth went dry, because she'd been thinking about this for the last fifty miles.

Grabbing the hem of her sweatshirt, he ripped it off bringing the undershirt with it. Zoya unfastened her bra and let it fall to the dirt floor. While she did that, he'd gotten her pants and panties down to her ankles.

She put her arms around his neck and he pulled her tight against him. "This definitely makes up for that long ride," he said, his voice husky, full of promise of things to come, and she said, "Get on the bike." More of a command than a request.

[Mature Themes Ahead]

Once he settled, she finished removing her clothes, then threw her leg over the seat and slid forward to connect with him. He pushed inside her with such force, it stole her breath. She took a few beats to let her heart calm, then moved against him with a slow, steady rhythm. Pressing her lips against his mouth, she spoke into it. "Will you be all right with living in Baton Rouge?"

His rough hands slid down her back, and she lost her train of thought for a second. Then he was kissing her. Long, slow kisses that made her hot and wet as she moved back and forth against his glorious hard length. "Will you?"

He broke the kiss. "What?"

"Moving. To Baton Rouge."

"Do we have to talk about this now?"

He leaned her against the handlebars and thrust into her harder and she couldn't think anymore. Only feel. His tongue against hers. His hands clamped to her butt, pulling her closer. Burying himself deeper. All that and the throb of the bike was making her crazy He nuzzled in her ear. "Say something."

She stilled for a moment. "Like what?"

"Use your imagination. You know what I like."

Her mind raced, drawing blanks.

He picked up his rhythm and every nerve in her body caught fire. With him wide eyed and pumping into her hard, she fisted the grips of the handlebars.

His upper lip curled, and he gritted his teeth as if holding back a scream. "One thing, Zoya. I want to hear one little sentence."

He licked into her mouth as if to coax out the words and all that heat flared to full flame. She'd do or say anything he wanted. Panic clutched her, then she regained her wits. "Je suis tellement heureuse que nous aillons un chien. Je pense qu'il aura besoin d'un bain." Even if he didn't understand she'd said, I'm so glad we have a dog, I think he'll need a bath, the language must have affected him, because now he was going at her with a vengeance. He rose from the seat, grasped her thighs with both hands, pulled her forward, and pounded into her like a madman. Grunting and growling her name against her throat. Suddenly, he grabbed a handful of her hair, jerked her head back, put his mouth to her breast, and sucked the nipple in hard.

A low guttural rumble she'd never heard before came from deep in his chest and he plunged one last time as he released.

[Mature Themes Over]

Resting his head against her shoulder, he caught his breath and killed the engine. "I'm never getting rid of this bike. Damn, I'm sorry Zoya. I didn't even let you come. That French talk did something to me. I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No, and I did kind of have an orgasm from the motor vibration."

He chuckled. "First one today? Or was that happening the whole trip?"

She ignored the question. She was done with the subject. At least for now. "What about Baton Rouge? Are you going to be able to live there?"

He closed his eyes, then opened them and heaved a breath. Even before he answered, her heart cracked.

"No."

I'm starting to feel like the Outlander author with all these sex scenes.

Sigh, does Roman ever just know how to shut up and be happy?

TEASER: "What have you done? None of its right!"