By the time she and Baxter arrived back at the gallery, the house was quiet, and Billie breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to deal with her uninvited guest. She fed Baxter his breakfast, then made a cup of tea and some toast for herself. Part of her wanted to bang pots and pans together in the kitchen to give Travis a dose of his own medicine—why should he be able to sleep peacefully when he’d made it impossible for her last night? But if she woke him he might try to drag her into his den.

She hated that this thought thrilled her as much as it irritated her.

After nibbling on the toast—her hunger seemed to have deserted her—she headed down the corridor for the bathroom. If she kept going through the motions—daily walk, breakfast, shower, open the gallery—maybe she could forget Travis was even there. But as she passed his room and noticed the door open, she couldn’t stop herself from peering in. Her legs froze and her tummy twisted inside out as her gaze came to rest on the sight on the bed.

He lay there on his stomach, dead to the world, his body sprawled across the mattress like a chalk outline at a crime scene. The thin sheet that stopped just above his hips left little to the imagination, and Billie’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she stared at the perfection before her. All tanned skin, hard, smooth planes and a full-back tattoo that appealed and intrigued more than she’d ever imagined such a thing would. His wasn’t a body you could just decide to forget. It was beautiful. In fact, it was one she wouldn’t mind painting into something she could look at forever.

She tiptoed closer—aware she was playing with fire but curious, from an artist’s point of view she told herself, about his ink. Although her knowledge of biker tattoos was limited, she understood that the eerie skull in the middle of his back branded him to a particular club. That Ajax and the rest of the Deacons would have identical insignias etched into their skin, signifying exactly where their loyalties lay. But she gasped in recognition as her eyes fell on another tattoo—the image of Jesus, his arms outstretched, was an uncanny representation of the statue whose eerie shadow loomed across St. Louis Cathedral every night. That had been one of the first photos she’d taken when she landed in New Orleans. It seemed sacrilegious, yet still she wanted to reach out and trace the outline with her finger. Or maybe even her tongue.

“Need some company? You come to take me up on my offer?” Travis drawled, not moving so much as a muscle.

She startled and then swallowed as liquid heat rushed through her, pooling in her cheeks and between her legs. Thank God he wasn’t looking at her. “No,” she choked, wishing she could rewind the clock ten minutes. “I…I…” She racked her brain for some kind of logical reason why she was standing over the end of his bed.

“Yes?” he asked, his tone amused.

“I just came to ask if you wanted me to make dinner for you tonight.” It was the first excuse that came into her head, and she cursed it the moment the words were out.

Travis rolled over and the sheet peaked where his erection stood loud, proud and ready. Her whole body shivered and she couldn’t help but stare.

“Dinner?” It sounded like he thought this was the funniest thing anyone had ever suggested.

“Yes.” She nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know, meat and three veggies, eaten at the end of the day? Sometimes people share it over conversation.”

“I’m not big on conversation.” He smirked and shifted so he clasped his hands behind his head. His whole stance was cocky and inviting. “I think there are better ways to spend our time. Don’t you?”

The way he looked at her left no doubt as to what he thought those “better ways” were.

Irritated at the tingles that flittered through her body as much as she was by him, she shook her head in annoyance. “Fine. Forget I asked. I was simply trying to be hospitable. If you don’t know what that means, look it up in the dictionary. And sweet dreams.”

With that, Billie turned and stormed out of the room, pulling his door shut behind her so she couldn’t be tempted to return and offer him something else instead. Something more like dessert. Somewhere inside her she felt a tiny stab of disappointment that Travis hadn’t accepted her ill-offered dinner invitation. How stupid. It had been a lucky escape. Imagine if he’d said yes. What did one cook a biker for dinner, anyway? And what would they talk about? Her art degree? Drug deals? Gun trafficking? How many people he’d knifed or torched? She shuddered. It wasn’t like they had anything in common.

Besides chemistry. So much chemistry. No matter how much she wished they didn’t, she couldn’t deny the flare of attraction that arced between them whenever they were together. But where it was the first interest her body had shown in anyone in a very long time, she guessed Travis acted that way around anyone with a vagina. And she had no desire to break her sex drought with a man-whore.

Yes, it was a very good idea he hadn’t taken her up on her rash invitation to share a meal.

—

Travis didn’t roll out of bed until well after midday and the first thing he thought of when he did was Billie—the way she’d looked as she stood over the end of his bed and invited him to dinner. Her blond hair falling messily across her face and her eyes sparking with annoyance had been more of a turn-on than any tight top or short skirt he’d seen on Bourbon Street last night. He’d been so damn tempted to accept her offer, but common sense had landed in the nick of time. He didn’t do wining and dining women, and he certainly didn’t make conversation for the sake of it.

Still, he couldn’t help being curious. What would Billie cook? What would they find to talk about? What would such a normal date feel like? He racked his brain for the last actual date he’d been on, but he couldn’t think of one. Dating assumed a certain mutual hope for a relationship and he steered clear of those. Not that she’d called it a date exactly, but if he’d accepted her hospitality, he’d have to show his appreciation some way. His cock hardened at the thought and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he contemplated the day ahead. Trying to exorcise thoughts of Billie from his mind, he got dressed, forcing himself to think of Priest and how the hell they were going to investigate his death. Despite Ajax’s hunch that it was murder, they had fuck-all for information, and yet somehow the others thought Travis would be able to find some.

“You’re the smart one,” they’d said last night, alluding to the fact that back in the day Travis had looked after the club’s finances and hacked into computer systems whenever necessary, a talent he’d since leveraged into a legitimate career.

“You work out who is responsible and we’ll take it from there,” Ajax had added, glancing at Leon. Their dark, knowing expressions were identical, and Travis had no doubt that they would exact this revenge in the most gruesome way possible, whereas he’d much prefer to hand over any evidence to the police. Not that he’d admit this to his brothers.

Once he’d have been all too eager to jump in, but times had changed. Priest had exiled him, and that rejection, losing his place in the club, had almost killed him. But he’d risen above it. He’d adapted; he’d changed, learned to control his anger issues, and the new Travis didn’t believe in vigilante justice. He’d made a more than comfortable existence without it, and he wanted to return to that normalcy as soon as fucking possible.

With that thought as motivation, he yanked on his boots and headed out into the kitchen. A quick look inside Billie’s refrigerator and cupboards revealed nothing that appealed, so he decided to head next door to The Priory and grab something from the bar. He opened the door into the gallery and was immediately hit with the sickly sweet smell of incense and what sounded like whales fucking, fighting to be heard above the lapping water of the fountain. There were a surprising number of people strolling through the gallery, exclaiming cheerfully over the weird so-called art that adorned the walls.