"Don't do this, Suzie," the man on the bike said.

"See here!" her father shouted as he tried to disengage himself from the row of wrought-iron chairs and the rope garland that cordoned off the seats.

She was so anguished that she couldn't even think about the embarrassment she was suffering in front of her guests, the personal humiliation of what was happening. Stay in control, she told herself. No matter what happens, stay in control.

The man on the bike held out his hand toward her. "Come with me."

"Susannah?" Cal said behind her. "Susannah, who is this person?"

"Call the police!" someone else exclaimed.

The man on the Harley continued to hold out his hand. "Come on, Suzie. Climb up on the back of my bike."

The Bennett family choker gave way under Susannah's fingers, and heirloom pearls tumbled down onto the white cloth that had been laid for the ceremony, some even rolling off into the grass. It was her wedding day, she thought wildly. How could such a vulgar, untoward event happen on her wedding day? Her grandmother would have been prostrate.

His arm slashed the air in a contemptuous gesture that took in the garden and the guests. "Are you going to give cocktail parties for the rest of your life, or are you going to come with me and set the world on fire?"

She pulled away from Cal and pressed her hands over her ears-a shocking, awkward gesture from proper Susannah Faulconer. Words erupted from her throat. "Go away! I won't listen to you. I'm not listening to you." And then she began moving away from the altar, trying to separate herself from all of them.

"Follow me, babe," he crooned. "Leave all this and come with me." His eyes were hypnotizing her, calling to her. "Hop on my bike, babe. Hop on my bike and follow me."