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“You’re just Chenoa’s caseworker. You don’t know shit,Breanna. You have no clue how we feel about our daughter’s addiction, so don’t play the fake empathy card with me. It’s really beneath you.”

Her nostrils flared as a poker of white-hot fire prodded her insides. “I knowexactlyhow it feels to have someone you adore hooked on drugs. I know how it feels to have your heart shatter every time your loved one walks out your door, wondering whether or not you’ll get that dreaded call that he ODed. What the fuck do you know about me? My brother is an addict. I raised him, but I was a poor substitute for a mother or father. While my parents were having their selfish crisis, we were all falling apart. So don’t you fucking tell me I don’t know what it feels like.” Her voice cracked and she turned away quickly. She didn’t want him to see the tears in her eyes.

Get a grip. Take deep breaths. Slowly. Again.

Then she felt his strong arms around her and she jerked her head up. His face was inches away from hers, his hot breath washing over her. His stare pierced right through her like a sword. Before she could pull away, his lips crushed against hers, moving, tasting, kissing her with such passion that she almost burst into tears.

“I’m sorry you have a brother who makes you worry. Let’s stop fighting each other,” he whispered against her lips.

Being in his arms made her feel so safe and protected, like nothing bad could happen to her. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard, messy, and passionately. He drew her closer, his kisses searing her lips, the heat of his body pressing against her. His fingers caressed her curves and landed on her rounded ass. “Fuck,” he said against her lips.

The reality of the situation hit her and she pulled back. “How do we always get into this position?” she said as she smoothed down her hair.

“Because we’re attracted to each other, but you keep fighting it.”

“I know I do. It’s just that I can’t get involved. I’m so fucking confused. I don’t really know you, and it seems like you want us to start from the end and work backward. Then there’s the whole ethical dilemma about me being your daughter’s caseworker. And your mother is thrown into the mix, and then—”

He tugged her to him and stopped her from talking by pressing his lips on hers again. She moaned. He pulled away. “Just stop, okay? You want to do this right? Let’s go out to dinner tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“You’re asking me out on a date?” All her consternations stopped, she was that surprised.

“Yeah. What? Haven’t you ever been asked out before?”

She nodded. “Yes, of course. It’s just that I didn’t think bikers dated.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I thought all you guys do is screw and move on. Do you date often?”

He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Do you want to go? And to answer your question, no, I don’tdateoften, but I want to date you. Is this something you’re gonna talk my ear off about?”

She laughed and cupped her chin with her fingers. “I’d love to go out to dinner with you tomorrow night. It’s just that I was taken aback by your question, that’s all.”

His hard features softened, his scowl melting away. “Good. I’ll pick you up on my Harley at seven. I’m gonna start looking for a place to rent. You’re a persuasive woman, so I’m pretty confident you can get the department to see your side of things.”

“You know I’m doing this for Chenoa because I truly believe she would benefit greatly by spending a lot more time with you. Even though I like you, my focus will always be on what’s best for her.”

“As it should be.” He placed his finger on her lips then trailed it down to the base of her throat. “So you like me now?”

She swallowed and met his gaze. “Yes. I do.”

“That works out fine, Ms. Quine, because I like you too. A lot.” Silence filled the space between them until a knock on the door broke through it. “Come in,” he said, his gaze still locked on hers.

The door opened and a baritone voice said, “You busy? I got something I need to tell you.”

He broke away from her. “We just finished. Hang for a few while I walk Ms. Quine out.”

She rose to her feet and placed her pen in her purse. “No worries. I’m good. Go ahead and speak with your friend.” She spun around and stared into the dark eyes of a tall, well-built man.This club has some of the best-looking bikers I’ve ever seen.She noticed the “Vice President” patch on his cut and his name—“Paco”—underneath it. She turned to Steel. “Thanks for answering my questions. I’ll send over the report in the morning. Bye.” She felt her cheeks warm as she passed by Paco’s watchful gaze.

“I’ll be seeing you,” Steel said as she closed the door behind her.

In the parking lot, she glanced at his office window and saw him standing there, watching her. Warmth spread through her before she waved and slid into the car, her emotions still reeling from what had just happened. She couldn’t believe he’d asked her on a date.Like a normal man.At that point, she realized that her view of bikers was screwed up because of her dad.

As she turned onto the main highway, she vowed that she’d give Steel a chance, pushing aside her prejudices. She was still a bit squeamish about him being her client’s father, but she knew he was dedicated to Chenoa, and they were both working toward the best thing for her.

She turned on the radio and cranked it up when Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer” came on. Giddiness bubbled through her like champagne at a celebration. For the first time in a long time, she was happy and excited. And it was wonderful.