The Night Warriors strode into the gym as confidently as they had done a lifetime ago. Danger and desire in leathers. They moved with a heavy elegance, large powerful men sure of themselves and their buddies. Their jackets creaked as they walked and their heavy boots pounded relentlessly upon the aging wooden boards. Like a drumroll at an execution, Megan heard them beat out her fate.

She bit her lip. She waited. And waited. Consumed with impatience that drowned out her fears. Where is he?

But there was no sign.

Where was Matt? Wasn’t he coming? What if she had come all this way for nothing?

So you’re admitting it now, huh? You came back for him.

She gave an involuntary little nod. It was true. It would be such a waste of time, of hope, of excitement…if Matt did not turn up. Her heart sank to her stiletto heels and she downed the full cup of punch, wincing as its sweetness filled her mouth and clung to her throat. Then she stared into the empty cup, convinced that her heart was just as void and hollow.

So what now? Just as well, head back to the hotel. All alone, and frustrated as hell.

She was consumed in a black cloud of disappointment and suddenly all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry. To pour her grief out onto her starched hotel pillow until her throat ached and her eyes were swollen.

A few whoops and hollers made her look up.

There he was…striding into the gym, about to be surrounded by old school mates. Or those who would claim to have been his friends. They gathered around him, drawn to his rugged alpha masculinity and self-confidence, as if they believed it would rub off on them.

Clad in black from head to toe. Matt. Black leather jacket, black t-shirt stretched over his bulging chest, black Levi jeans and bulky black boots. He was older but still gorgeous.

So gorgeous.

Her heart picked up its pace and her body flooded with heat. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she shivered with remembered delight. Although the gymnasium stretched out between them, she could feel the boom of his laughter as it shook his broad shoulders and tightened the sinews of his throat. She was transported back to all the times when she had rested her head upon him just to feel the sheer joy of sharing his mirth. She trembled as her love for him threatened to rock her world into chaos once more.

Matt’s hair, combed back from his forehead, exposed his flawless brow. It reached his collar and curled softly around the base of his earlobes. It was shorter than it had been the last time she had seen him, but it suited him. Megan used to love to run her fingers through his ebony curls, to wrap them around her fingers like promise rings. As she watched him, his face lit up with a grin. It was the face of a man now, from his wide throat with its prominent Adam’s apple, to his chiseled jaw and thick, black eyebrows. And his eyes were as dark and dangerous as she remembered, windows to his intense and passionate soul.

He moved his gaze over the crowd and panic broke the spell that had held Megan frozen. She turned away quickly and placed her cup on the table. Her whole body trembled and a hot flush spread from her ruby red toenails to the roots of her auburn hair. How could he have such an effect on her after all this time? She felt like a teenager again. Confused. Aroused. Exhilarated. Terrified.

She had to get out. Make a quick escape. She couldn’t go on pretending she could see him and not be affected by him anymore.

She had been consumed by her love for Matt King once.

She couldn’t let it happen all over again.