"Hello gorgeous." A broad shouldered bouncer purred. The effect rolled through her body like liquid sex and Nicollete decided she might give the Del Fantasma a little go after all.

"Hello yourself, handsome." The night breeze carried the rich scents of the ocean and enough heat to make her wish for some ice, of the polar kind. Being adapted to the North was one thing, but surely she wasn't that out of sorts in the south. She fanned her face. "Is it always this hot here?"

He raised his eyebrows and gave her a devastating grin. "I'd say it was the company, but I don't think you need any of my cheesy lines tonight."

Nicollete couldn't help it. She laughed. "Well, my bullshit meter was starting to peg, but I would have let you carry on a bit longer."

He grinned and looked out toward the road. "It's the hottest Christmas on record, and it's got the weathermen frazzled."

A low rumble in the distance caught Nicollete's attention. It purred through her body, vibrating down to her toes. She knew magic, especially winter magic, and this had her radar pinging. Something was coming.

Call it silly superstition, or self-preservation, but Nicollete didn't trust anything without batteries that got her body thrumming. She slid into the shadows by the doorway. The bouncer had already turned his attention to another group entering the bar, and it was just as well, Nicollete knew how to blend in, be forgettable. Unnoticed.

The rumble became a full-fledged roar that had her blood burning. A slow ache built low in her belly. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.

No one around her noticed the noise, or if they did, thought nothing of it. A blue light flashed and she squinted against the glare. In moments, the light was gone and in its place was all of her bad boy fantasies rolled into one leather-bound body. Six feet plus, of leather and hard muscle sat astride a machine built for sex on the road. A rumbling cruiser built for long rides and late nights. There was something primal about a man in leather. Something raw that reminded Nicollete of why she'd come to the middle of nowhere California. Sex. Although she might settle for that motorcycle between her legs, the rider definitely held potential. He wore a full-face helmet designed in such a way as to remind her of the North Pole. It was the only non-black thing he wore.

She leaned against the wall and waited to see what was hidden behind the visor. The bouncer stood against the doorway, arms crossed with a jaded look to his eye.

Tall, dark and sexy attempted to walk in. "You can't enter without..." The next few moments blurred. In a heartbeat, the stranger had the bouncer against the wall. Where the biker touched him, frost began forming across his clothing.

The bouncer's teeth elongated to sharp points and his eyes glowed feral in the moonlight. "I don't give a fuck about parlor tricks, shithead. Take off the helmet or you don't get in." Smoke puffed out of his mouth with the last words and his teeth began to chatter. Two others stood in the doorway.

A muffled chuckle came from within the helmet. He pulled away from the bouncer and stood out of arm's reach. Frost pulled from the bouncer's body leaving him with a sudden wracking cough.

Nicollete knew she should be afraid, or at least slightly intimidated, but hell, if frost was all he had, she was immune. Her lips lifted in a wicked smile. The biker took off his helmet and a small sigh escaped her lips. Sweat-slickened blonde hair shone in the light with a scattering of bangs that fell boyishly over bedroom-blue eyes. Of course, there was nothing boyish about the hard edges of his face or the icy glint in his glare. Her grin widened.

"Is there a problem?" A muscle-bound guy with a high and tight military haircut stood casually in the doorway, carrying an air of patience around him like some would arrogance. At first glance, he was less intimidating than the bouncer, but she was used to giving second looks, especially since quality assurance was her job. On the second glance, she noticed how all others quietly waited for his answer without fidgeting. Definitely the boss, if the way the bouncer snapped to was any indication.

"No problem. I just want a drink." Biker boy's voice rumbled over her skin like earlier, and she shivered lightly.

Damn Nicollete, are you willing to jump any-ol-body? Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Desperation was not sexy, not to anyone. Lust was one thing, non-reciprocating lust, well that was a whole other cookie.

"I don't know who you are, but there's no trouble permitted in my bar. The Del Fantasma is neutral territory, and if I blacklist you, there will be no returning to my place. We clear?" Something was happening, a tangible something just out of reach, but she could see it in the reactions of those around the man. He was definitely a power all of his own.

Biker grinned and the ice melted, replaced with a careful warmth. "It's been quite a while since I've ended up in neutral territory. You'll have to forgive my lack of manners. Jack Frost, at your service." He dipped from the waist and smiled.

Nicollete stared. Jack Frost? She'd watched him, tracked him since childhood. Played in the wind he'd swirled around the North Pole.

"Unless you can make it snow, or at least cooler, I doubt that." The owner nodded to the bouncer who glared at Jack. "You've had your warning." With that, he walked back into the bar.

A man who ran his business with style, class, and an iron fist. Reminded her of home. She might like the Del Fantasma after all.