The sound that came from the woman who had only moments ago been writhing over his cock like a dream was pure desperation. Defeat. She was suffering and by the sounds of it on the brink of tears and Rusty McKinley didn’t do suffering. He was up out of bed before she had a chance to take another breath.

“Hey, hey, let me help you.” He felt for the woman by the door.

“I’m fine, will be fine, I just . . .”

“I can’t see what’s going on. Hang on.” Rusty flicked on the light switch, revealing a glorious tumble of auburn curls and beneath it, a pale face twisted in embarrassment. He looked down and pulled a sheet off the bed to wrap around his naked body, his hard-on protesting all the while.

“No. Wait. Oh, god. I did break my shoe.” And she dissolved into a mess of sobs. He looked down her legs and saw the heel hanging off one of the stilettos still on her foot. Bummer, but surely not something to cry about?

Her face hidden under her hair, Rusty couldn’t tell whether it was just her broken shoe or embarrassment that had tipped his mystery woman over the edge, but while he waited, she managed to catch a breath for a moment. “Sorry. I just, oh, god. Why is the door locked?”

He tried it and she was right. “Must be jammed.”

She shrugged miserably.

Rusty gave the door a tentative push with his shoulder but it was good quality, solid. If he gave it a bigger shove he’d probably rip the lock out or injure himself, neither of which seemed appealing. But he was still curious about the woman who had just crept into his bed. “Would you like me to get you a drink or something?”

She dissolved into another round of tears and Rusty hissed his breath out through his teeth. Okay, so maybe not. He pulled on his thumb, feeling where he’d caught it earlier against the ragged edge of a bike exhaust. “I’ll call downstairs,” he tried when her crying faltered again.

“Then everyone will hear about this and I’m done,” she said, finally turning her tear-streaked face up to him. Whoa. Although red-rimmed and puffy, the eyes that stared up at him were the brightest green he’d ever seen with blue flecks around their very edges. Perhaps it was the way they were framed by the curly shock of auburn hair, or that they were set in such pale skin, but her eyes caught up all of her fear, embarrassment, and terror and shone it up at him as if she were begging him to fix it.

“It can’t really be that bad, can it?” he said. “Turn up in the wrong room. With the wrong guy. No biggie, little bird. Come on, sit down while I call downstairs.”

Before she could protest, he took her hand and led her to the bed, relishing the feeling of her soft fingers in his hands. She limped over, one shoe on and one shoe off, with her hair a mess and her dress on, but somewhat sideways. He sat but she remained standing. Biting her lip, she swiped at a stray curl determined to stay in her face.

“Rusty McKinley,” he said, holding out a hand. “At your service.”

“Oh, god.” A little color had returned to her face and now a new flush of pink stole over her cheeks and neck. She dropped down onto the bed and kicked off her other shoe.

“No, not God. Just Rusty. Although I am damn good with a wrench and people have called me the touch-up god before.”

Finally, a smile twitched at her lips. The effect was in an instant both innocent and sexy and Rusty wanted nothing more than to make it happen again. “So, can I call downstairs for someone to let us out or do you want to fake an injury and we could stretcher you out of here?” He’d been going for humor but the joke fell flatter than his mom’s cakes. Her face dropped and the small wobble in her chin threatened tears again. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean . . . Don’t cry. I mean, fuckers downstairs can barely string a sentence together, they ain’t gonna judge.”

“Shit,” she said and huffed out a huge breath. “Shit, shit, shit.” She reached down and moved her shoes together so that they were in line with each other. It seemed to calm her.

In the pause that followed, Rusty wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh or pat the woman comfortingly on the back. In the end, he did neither. “Well. Can’t say I was expecting you this evening.”

“No. I don’t suppose you were expecting any of it.” The woman sighed again, dramatically, and instead of rushing in with help as he usually did, Rusty let her take her time. “I’m sorry. I thought you were Grim.”

“Shame. I’m much better in the sack than him.”

This time the smile lingered longer and it changed her face again. Her cheekbones appeared proudly and a dimple in her left cheek hollowed out charmingly. With her mussed hair, the flush of pain and embarrassment still coloring her cheeks, and her eyes now finally holding the glimmer of humor, the woman was two-thirds bombshell and one-third goddess. “Shall we start over? I’m Rusty McKinley. Been out of town for a month or so getting some parts. I have the bike garage down the road.”

“Beth Ravens. I’m an actress.”

Rusty’s ears perked up. This was interesting. He cocked his head and looked at her with a more critical eye.

“But I work in the bar here. Or at least I do at the moment, until, you know, or at least until I get another shot, which was supposed to happen already, so I thought at least getting the guy would be a start, you know, for my confidence and stuff, and then, well, I . . . shit.”

“Sorry, you lost me there.”

“You must think I’m an utter flake.” The smile left her eyes and instead there was only disappointment.

“Hell, I don’t know you from a bar of soap. But the last thing I’d add in a sentence with Beth Ravens would be flake.”

“Really?” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Man, thanks. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me today.”

“You need to get better friends.”

The sigh was huge again. “I know. That’s what all this was about.” She waved an arm around the room then blushed again.

“You wanted to be friends with Grim?” He tried not to make his voice sound completely incredulous, but he could tell by the way she hardened her jaw that he’d failed. “Sorry. But he’s not exactly the making friends type, and . . .”

“A bit more than friends, obviously. But either way jumping into bed with him was a stupid way to try and make it happen anyway,” she finished his sentence. Not exactly the way he would have phrased it but, heck, she wasn’t far off. She paused and he waited and watched. He’d had more tail than a herd of horses, so having a woman jump in his bed wasn’t that big of a deal. But having one think he was his brother, now that was new. The types of women they liked were night and day apart.

The emotions washed over her face: embarrassment, righteousness, sorrow, a little touch of fear. Wow, but no wonder she was an actress. An idea started to form in his head as he watched her wring her hands and flash those insanely expressive eyes of hers at him.

“I’m striking out, big time. And I needed Grim on my arm. Knowing that I’m not alone out there would just make me feel . . . better. And he’s just perfect.” She sighed and he winced. “He’s going places in the industry and if we got together I’d start being noticed as something more than tits and arse.”

Rusty couldn’t help it, he snorted. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She shrugged. “I knew this town was tough, but screw that. Screw giving up before I even got going. I’m going to make it.”

“I don’t doubt that, little bird. You have more whomph than a tankful of gasoline. But you figured Grim was going to help you make it? You sure about that?”

“Why not? It’s worked for plenty of other couples. Two birds, one stone: love of my life secured, tick, career boosted, tick tick. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but your brother is doing good. Devil Dares is selling out everywhere, amazing for such a low-budget independent film, and there’s talk about the script being nominated for an Oscar. If that happens and I walk down the red carpet with Grim, guess whose name gets to the top of casting lists a whole lot faster? Being a girl from Australia who isn’t blond and whose bra size is, well, generous . . .” She took a deep breath. “Let’s just say it’s not all about talent in this town.” Beth shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m totally oversharing. But hell, I can’t overshare much more with you, can I?”

He should have called downstairs for someone to let her out and gotten her the hell out of there. He should have cut her off and called his brother to come and pick up the pieces. But Rusty didn’t move. Didn’t take his eyes off Beth Ravens. What are you doing? You trying to get ripped off again? His last relationship had taught him that women on a mission, women like Beth, were dangerous. Dangerous and expensive, and yet, the way Beth had been so open about her ambitions, about what she wanted, that was different from his ex. Different and refreshing. Really? Really. Beth wasn’t a biker for one thing, that much was clear. The girl was innocence personified. Well, almost.

She shifted and looked down at her shoes sitting on the floor, the heel of one at an odd angle, and sucked in air through her teeth.

“They expensive?”

“The most expensive pair I own. They’re my audition shoes. Jesus, I’m so clumsy. How the hell am I going to rock stilettos on any red carpet if I can’t even make it out of a room?”

“It was dark. You were in a rush.”

“I was. Sorry. This is not usually my style. I had a whole speech ready but then Grim left and Briony told me he’d booked a room upstairs. Would have been nice if he’d put an I’ve-booked-the-room-for-my-brother-for-his-birthday sign on the door so I didn’t have to make such an idiot of myself.”

“You didn’t hear me complaining.”

“No, I didn’t.” She looked up at him from under her long dark lashes and a flash of what had almost happened rattled through him like a hot Harley in a race. “This sort of thing happen to you all the time, does it?”

“Woman slides into my bed in the deep dark of night and drives me crazy without even asking my name? Oh yes, happens all the time. I usually wake up partway through though.” He smiled at her and her pupils dilated. God, she was sexy, no question. “I’m no angel, but you’re something special, little bird.”

She pulled at a long strand of curly hair and chewed on the end of it, then caught herself and tucked it behind her ear. “Why do you call me little bird?”

That gave him pause. “I don’t really know. It just sort of came out. You appeared out of nowhere like a little bird, perched on top of me. And that tiny waist of yours, and your skin smooth as feathers, guess it just seemed about right.”

“Huh.”

The silence filled the room and for the second time that evening, Rusty found himself unsure whether he wanted to break it. Beth Ravens had gotten under his skin, and he couldn’t work out whether he wanted to let her settle there, or yank her out and give her back to his brother like she wanted. As she started chewing on another strand of hair, her full lips caught up in a pout as good as Monroe pulled in her day, the idea that had been just a flicker, fleshed out and started walking around his brain demanding attention.

Beth Ravens was more than a hot body and luscious lips. She was an opportunity. An opportunity to sort his shit out, give his TV show a real shot at happening, and an opportunity to screw with his brother for a change.

Grim looked after himself. Period. Give his brother this same opportunity and the guy wouldn’t blink before working out a way to milk it while Rusty was left behind eating road dust.

Rusty needed a break. Hell, he’d earned it.

“I’ll get you a drink while you think about whether I can call downstairs anytime soon.” He pulled two beers from the fridge and handed one to her. He took a long sip of his own.

Their folks had died when they were teens, and it made Grim focus on himself, deciding that he was going to “be someone” and screw anyone that got in the way. Rusty, well, he went deep, black, and dark, and tried hard to give life the slip. He rode hard and fast and furious ’til he fell for a girl who he thought would give him everything he wanted, and instead took everything he owned. It threw him into a depression. Lost as to what to do with his life, Rusty stood up when Grim got into trouble for gambling at a Reapers of Menace table back home in Illinois. Rusty could handle himself around the club, but Grim would have just gotten into more trouble. It was probably madness, but it made a kind of sense for the brothers at the time. Now though, Rusty mostly felt like his brother had used him.

He looked at Beth, who hadn’t taken a sip of her beer at all but was just pulling at the label. Girl definitely looked like she could use a break.

When Rusty had agreed to work off Grim’s debt with the Illinois chapter of the Reapers of Menace MC, it was on the basis that Grim would get set up in LA and make sure Rusty had a place to land when he got there. A fresh start for both of them. Grim had the earning potential, it had just been bad luck that landed him on the wrong side of the Reapers. What Grim hadn’t let on was that the Reapers didn’t think the deal ended in two years. Rusty was a good rider and he’d become a good driver and he’d run a few big jobs for the club, making them a ton of cash. They kept making excuses about needing him to stay on.

Rusty rubbed his nose where the break had healed but never felt quite the same. He’d done plenty for the Reapers and they knew it. But a few of them hadn’t wanted him to go. A little gentle persuasion with his fists had helped, but it had taken the head of the club stepping in to get out. As long as he didn’t go back to Illinois, the Reapers wouldn’t go after him. That was the deal. Or that was supposed to be the deal.

When he’d finally gotten to LA though, Grim hadn’t exactly welcomed him with open arms. Sure, he’d lent him the small amount of money Rusty was short for the garage. To be fair he should have asked for a whole lot more given how much he’d had to work off for Grim, but Rusty had taken the money and so he couldn’t complain. And then Grim had introduced him to a few people like stunt man Jake Slade, and his girl Lucy. But that had been it. No real contact, no real family. Rusty had been lonely and bored and looking for company. He’d gotten used to the noise and community of MC life and he missed it. But with the few guys still pissed at him back in Illinois he’d given up on MC life. Then he found Wilde’s. The Hell’s boys were a good fit. More brotherhood than bank robbery. And they weren’t the Reapers. When Rocco, the head of the Raising Hellfire MC, asked if Rusty wanted to take on the Hell’s boys’ bikes at his garage, Rusty decided it must have been a sign and joined up properly. Rusty just didn’t tell them the whole story of where he’d come from or why. His time in the Reapers was in the past, LA was his fresh start.

Rusty looked at the woman next to him again and tried to picture her on Grim’s arm on a red carpet. Nah, he couldn’t see it. But . . . An idea blossomed and he saw it playing out in front of him. Yes. It could work.

Here was a chance to get back on an equal footing with Grim. Hell, to play him at his own game, a chance for Rusty to get a little of what came to Grim so easily. “I have a little proposition for you,” he said to Beth.

“I think we’re past propositions, don’t you?” she said, pulling her dress farther down her thighs.

Although his muscles squeezed at the thought of yanking the dress away and finishing what she’d started, he kept his hands by his sides. “You want to get to know my brother and make it big in this town, right?”

She nodded.

“I might be able to help.”

Her eyes grew huge. “Oh, shit. Have I made an even bigger fool of myself? I thought you said you owned a garage. I thought you were a biker. You’re not in Hollywood, are you?”

“I do own a garage. One that would make the perfect setting for a reality show.”

“And I fit into that how?”

“I’ve been working with a producer, he’s a client. He wants me to shoot a pilot, but reckons I need more drama in the shop. Need another character. Girl like you, reckon you’d add drama in an instant.”

“You want me to be in a show about bikes?” She laughed. “I can act, but I don’t know that I’m good enough to fake being a bike mechanic. Not in front of true fans.”

“The workshop is a mess, and we need an office manager anyway now that we’re getting busy. You take the job, you’re part of the show. Two birds, one stone, like you say. You help me make the pilot happen and I’ll even introduce you to my brother, properly. Fame and fortune, love and marriage swiftly follow,” he said sarcastically. “Win, win, win, all the way home.”

“Wait.” She sat up, suddenly totally focused on him. “Are you serious?”

“As water in a fuel tank.”

He could almost see the cogs of her brain starting to click into gear with the idea.

“When you say a pilot, it’s not the type where you want me to take my clothes off and ride your bike, right?”

He sat back, his eyebrows almost ratcheting off his forehead. “Ha, no. I mean, your, ahem, assets, wouldn’t exactly be bad for ratings, but this is about bikes. Big, beautiful, pimped-out bikes and the people who make them that way.”

She looked down at her broken shoe a moment and readjusted it to be perfectly in line with the other. “And what happened tonight never leaves this room?”

“It’s our little secret.”

“Okay then.”

“Lemme try that door again.”

She put a hand on his arm. “There’s no catch?”

“No catch. Except if you suck at being an office manager. Then we might need to rethink it.”

“I’ll be an amazing office manager. I’m organized and focused. You should see me with a spreadsheet. But I’ll have to stay on here while we see if this will work out for both of us. Don’t worry”—she held up a hand—“I can do both. I just need to keep this job ’cause I get to live in the bunkhouse rent-free with it.”

“We can work out your salary if you fit in with the workshop and the TV project.”

She bit her lip. “I do want to do film, but hell, I’ll take anything that doesn’t involve serving beer to that bunch of leather-heads downstairs. At least you can hold a conversation that has more content than a tool belt.”

“I’ll give you that last one, but the TV show is about bikers. I assumed you liked ’em, given you work here.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s plenty to like about bikers. Your brother’s managing to fake it, right? Just don’t make me ride anything, or, I don’t know, try and fix anything. I failed shop at school, I failed almost everything except English and drama. I can’t even bake.”

“No cakes needed, I promise. And you can learn all the stuff about tools you need to play it on-screen. I’m a great teacher.”

She pursed her lips and Rusty would have sworn he felt them on his own. Then her face changed.

“You screw me over and I’ll find a way to take you down.”

Rusty threw back his head and laughed. “I’d like to see you try, little bird.”

“I will. I’m smart and desperate. So, don’t . . .” He saw her lips form words then dismiss them. “Don’t fuck with me.”

He held back the laugh and just nodded. She didn’t curse, that much was obvious. But rather than making her seem ridiculous, it just made her endearing. “Wouldn’t dream of it. You put my garage on the map and I’ll make sure that my brother never finds out how we met.”

“And you’ll make sure he falls in love with me,” she added quickly.

A strange rush sped through Rusty’s bloodstream but he forced it down. His brother got everything he wanted, but this time Rusty was going to get something out of it too. “I can’t promise that. My brother is a fickle beast. But I can make sure you make a good impression. And he’d be a fool to turn you down.”

Their eyes locked and Rusty wondered, again, what would have happened if he hadn’t mentioned that using Grim’s room had been a birthday present just when he did. “You work hard and the world’s your oyster. My mom always told me that.”

Finally, she smiled, a smile that took over her whole face and brightened the room. “So did mine.” Resolution flashed in her eyes. “I have to make it work here, for her. And for my dad. They’ve both been amazing about me coming over here straight out of film school. I am going to make it. I just have to. So, I’m in. For now, at least.”

“Perfect. We can go over your duties and the outline for the show I’ve been working on tomorrow. Ten o’clock.”

She shifted and looked at the door. “How am I going to get out of here without anyone seeing me?”

“We’ll take the back stairs. And I’ll go first. Anyone comes along, I’ll distract them.”

She tugged her dress down as she stood, suddenly his partner in crime. It was nice, he realized. The sort of nice that meant trouble with a capital T. Sweet bundle of innocence like her was not his sort of thing. Hell, he’d decided to swear off women entirely not all that long ago. But he wasn’t about to just give her over to his brother without working on his own dreams. Not this time. The prospect of making the show he’d started dreaming about since he got here seeped into his skin and warmed him like a shot of bourbon.

“I’m in the bunkhouse out back,” she said and he nodded, jiggling the door handle while lifting it up at the same time.

He was going to make this happen. Make something just for him. Rusty thought about the smell of engine oil in the garage. It was soothing. He looked down at the woman watching him. His brother always managed to get things handed to him on a silver platter. What if he didn’t introduce them? The smirk felt good, but Rusty knew it wouldn’t last. Honor above all, that’s what Rocco had drilled into him when he’d joined the Raising Hellfire club. And he’d lived by it ever since. Keeping Beth Ravens in his life was about work, period, and if she and Grim hit it off, well, that was their business.

“There we go.” The door handle unseized and opened with a creak. “See you at ten a.m. tomorrow downstairs. We can eat and talk, then I’ll give you a lift to the garage.”