Tara’s all covered up tonight in modest clothes, but she still looks gorgeous. She might be hiding the hickeys I gave her, but she can't hide her sexy curves.

Her friends seem nice enough. I’ve watched Brock and Cody Easton play ball, and I like seeing their down-to-earth lack of ego. I'd never have imagined they’d share the same woman, at least not on a permanent basis. From what I gather, they're both planning to be a father to the child she's carrying.

When we first came in, I thought it was some kind of setup. I almost thought my brother would jump out from behind the couch. It's like a twin party, but I'm here without Jake.

I gave Tara a look, thinking she must somehow know that I'm a twin, too, but I didn't see any recognition on her face. I don't think there's any way she would know, since last night was her first time coming into Wheels.

The twins with Tara's other friend turn out to be her bodyguards, but it's clear they're hot for her. The looks they give her remind me of the couple times Jake and I shared a woman. I'm not gonna lie; it’s an experience I wouldn’t mind repeating.

There’s only one tense moment, when I head for the bathroom and Alex, one of Zoe’s dates/guards, gets in my face. He calms down once he realizes I want to take a piss, not hurt his would-be girlfriend, but the incident makes me wonder exactly what they’re protecting her from.

Tara fills me in while we eat. Dinner is a lot more fun than I expected. It seems she and her girlfriends have been tight since junior high, and they keep things light with a bunch of wacky stories — some of which tell me my date definitely has a daring side.

I can’t wait to get her alone.

Rubbing her thigh under the table gets her worked up. She pushes my hand away, but I can feel the heat coming off her. I know from the fun we had in the parking lot last night that she won't be pushing me away later.

Before we leave the party, I pull Alex Wolf aside for a word about what kind of trouble Zoe’s in. She seems like a sweet girl, and I don’t like seeing her in danger because of her jerk of a father, who is well known around town for ruthlessness and a complete lack of scruples in his business dealings.

That done, I’m eager to leave. I’ve enjoyed myself more than I thought I would, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the pleasure that lies ahead. I get Tara out the door as soon as I can without being rude to our hosts.

"Thanks for coming with me," she says as we walk out into the cool night.

"Sure." I put my arm around her and pull her close, unable to wait any longer to touch her again.

I escort her to the passenger side of my truck, open the door and then pull her against me for a kiss before she gets in. She returns the kiss for several seconds before pushing against my chest and whispering, "Not here!"

I take a long look at her as I think about everything I want to do to her tonight. Her hand is against my ribs, and she gives me an encouraging squeeze before she turns to climb onto the seat.

When she's settled, I run my hand up her leg, from her ankle all the way under her skirt, to the outside of her upper thigh. "My place?"

She hesitates for only a moment. “Yeah.” Her voice is thick with desire and my cock twitches in response.

Reluctantly, I let go of her leg long enough to move around to my side of the truck. When I get in, she slides over next to me and wraps her hand around my thigh. The night is full of promise.

“So, how did I do as an escort?” I ask as I follow the long, curving driveway toward the main road.

Tara’s hand inches further up my leg. “So far, so good.”

“Your friends gave me quite a few curious looks. I gather I’m not the type of date they’re used to seeing you with.” I’m making conversation to distract myself from the feel of her fingers burning through my jeans. It’s a long ride back to town, and I want to delay the action until I can give Tara my full focus.

She makes a noncommittal murmur and tucks herself closer into my side.

“So what brought you into Wheels in the first place?” I ask. If I keep talking, I should be able to resist the urge to pull off the road, toss her into the truck bed and have my way with her.

Her body stiffens at my question. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but I feel the mood shift. “Um …” It almost sounds like she’s trying to think up a response, and I’m suddenly interested beyond just making conversation to pass the time.

“Idle curiosity?” I ask. Every so often we get local “tourists” coming into Wheels, but the women usually come in small groups — safety in numbers. That isn’t really the vibe I’ve been getting from Tara. She doesn’t treat me like some bad boy biker novelty.

She squirms uncomfortably and withdraws her hand from my leg.

“What’s the matter?” I touch her knee and look over at her, but she won’t meet my eyes. I may be misreading her, but she seems embarrassed.

“I saw you—” she says suddenly. Her eyes flash to mine, but then she looks straight ahead at the dark highway before us.

I stay quiet, hoping she’ll continue, and my approach works. “I came in looking for you,” she continues.

I frown at her. “To Wheels?”

“Yeah.” She squirms some more, then finally says, with the air of a confession, “I saw you a couple of weeks ago … on your bike, in the parking lot at José Domingo’s.”

“Domingo’s?”

“Yeah, the Mexican place downtown? You pulled in as I was walking out. You rode right by me, then I sat in my car and watched you go inside before I left.”

She rushes through her words. She’s definitely embarrassed at this admission. I touch her face to reassure her and find her cheeks burning. “You liked what you saw, huh?” I say, pulling her back in close.

I’m flattered. I really am. But it wasn’t me at José Domingo’s.