I didn’t think much about the photo shoot. Big damn deal. So what, a few models come in, put on some skimpy outfits and plaster themselves over our bikes. If that’s what it takes to sell my motorcycles, I was happy to do it.

Since I’d taken over the company after my father’s death, I owed it to my old man to make sure Stroker Motorcycles continued to grow into a powerhouse. I’d even left the road and my biker lifestyle to honor my father’s last wishes.

Besides, it’s not like a pretty face is enough to turn my head. At least that’s what I thought.

When I saw Cat, everything changed. I’d spent years on the road on my bike. I’d had a lot of one-night stands. I thought I knew what it was to lust after a woman, but with that gray-eyed goddess, just seeing her made me addicted.

Cat was just supposed to be another model. Now I can’t go three seconds without thinking about her.

Oh, one big problem. The woman hates motorcycles. To her, the modeling gig’s just a way to save some money for her kid’s education.

Why do I want a woman who hates everything I am?