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  The other girls nodded as though that made perfect sense, all except the sober driver, who shot Kayla an embarrassed glance.

  Jared disentangled again. “I’m married,” he said firmly and all at once, Kayla was back in Edinburgh.

  Her lungs constricted. It was suddenly difficult to get air. In her mind’s eye she saw the French journalist kiss him, and Jared extricate himself—“I’m married”—unaware of Kayla watching across the road. Her relief became dread when she saw his sexual speculation as he watched Simone walk away. His gaze collided with Kayla’s, and a flash of guilt confirmed it.

  He’d laughed off the attraction and that frightened her most, because it meant Jared didn’t feel in control of the changes in himself either.

  It was the last straw. She’d booked flights home for her and the kids. Before we hurt each other more than we can fix.

  At the airport, Jared had shown her a tattoo on his shoulder, new and still red and swollen. The kids’ names and hers. “You,” he’d said. “Always and only you.” And Kayla had clung to the gesture with the same desperation, she suspected, that had driven Jared to make it.

  He loves me, she told herself now. He committed to me. And mostly believed it.

  “Yeah, but celebrity free pass,” the bride-to-be repeated doggedly. “It means, I can, like, do it with you.”

  “I can’t do it with you,” Jared said. “My wife and I don’t have that arrangement. Here she is now.”

  Far from being embarrassed, Paula looked at Kayla and pouted like a child. “You can’t have a man like this and not share him. That’s not fair.”

  “Fair?” Kayla put the drinks on a nearby table because her hands had started shaking. “You know what isn’t fair, Paula? Your sense of entitlement. You think a bridal veil gives you some kind of pass to grope any guy that catches your eye?”

  “Lighten up, it’s just a bit of fun,” one of her bridal party muttered.

  “Yeah?” Kayla’s anger exploded, all sound and fury after months of being repressed. “If any of you were getting this kind of attention from a group of drunken males, would you still call it fun? Or would you call it sexual harassment?”

  “I think you’ve made your point, honey,” Jared said quietly, holding out a hand to her. Kayla ignored the call to sanity.

  “Oh, I haven’t even started.” Some part of her brain screamed, Listen to him, but her rage sent up sparks when she tried to apply the brakes. She could only barrel along the train tracks and who cared if the bridge was out?

  “You’re all drunk and having fun and yeah, I could make allowances, but I’m so fucking tired of doing that.” She eyeballed each and every one of them. “The only part of Jared you own is how his music makes you feel. His dick isn’t attached. He’s not a celebrity squeeze toy, he’s a human being, and my husband. And you’re ruining the first date night we’ve had in forever.”

  She returned her glare to the bride who was sobering fast. “Oh, and by the way, Paula, there is no free pass on commitment, not if you want trust. And if you don’t know that Relationship 101 stuff, then you have no business making vows next weekend. Because marriage is more than losing ten pounds to fit into your wedding dress and playing princess for one day. Marriage is real life and hard work, sometimes the hardest work you’ll ever have to do. And that’s even before you add kids to the mix.”

  She ran out of combustible fury, and stopped. Right outside OMIGOD-you’ve-done-it-now station.

  She became aware of her surroundings first, then the quiet. Every conversation in the bar had fallen silent. The bartender stood with the cocktail shaker motionless in his hands.

  “Guess they are married,” murmured the waitress.

  A guy raised his cell to peel off a shot and Jared turned his head to glare. The cell lowered. “We’ve been under a lot of pressure, with everything that’s going down with the band.” As he spoke, her husband moved away. It hurt, until she understood that he was drawing attention with him, giving her privacy to steady her ragged breathing. “I’m sure you all understand that it gets to us sometimes.”

  As conversations resumed around them, he turned grave, beautiful eyes on the bachelorettes. His sisters laughingly called it Jared’s “come to Jesus” face—You’ve disappointed me, but with love and patience we’ll get through it.

  It was the same expression he’d adopted when their four-year-old drew on the wall with crayons yesterday.

  It was not the look Kayla wanted from him tonight.

  The women shuffled, shamefaced and uncomfortable.

  “Oh yeah, sure…I mean, I totally get that it’s hard living a normal life when you’re famous.”

  “Maybe we were a little pushy.”

  They left as though departing a funeral, touching Jared’s hand and murmuring sympathetically. Standing slightly apart, Kayla couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could imagine it. So sorry you’re married to a whack job.

  They sidled past her, avoiding eye contact, except for the sober one who mumbled an apology.

  She nodded, grateful for scraps.

  As Paula brushed by, close to tears, Kayla said weakly, “Good luck with your wedding,” but only succeeded in sounding sarcastic. The other woman shot her a poisonous look.

  “Fuck you.”

  Unable to look at Jared, Kayla grabbed her coat from the couch and shrugged it on. “Since I’ve clearly ruined the mood,” she told her shoes, “let’s call this date a failure and go home. I’ll get the car.”

  Leaving him to settle the tab, she picked up her bag and walked blindly to the rear exit, unwilling to run the gauntlet through the bar.

  Outside, the temperature had dropped, and she stopped to button her coat. The waning moon was a sliver in the sky, the stars faint and faraway above L.A.’s power grid. In Bridgeton, they looked so close, she always felt she could reach up and touch one.

  Her SUV was at the office end of the parking lot, away from the bustle of the entertainment precinct. She’d taken three steps when arms enfolded her.

  “No,” Jared said in her ear. “We’re not giving up on tonight.”

  Chapter 4

  Kayla’s stoicism crumbled. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s my fault. I should have cut them loose earlier, but I haven’t learned the skill yet.”

  She turned in his arms. “Will there be fallout?”

  “I think I smoothed things over.” He kissed her as though she was bruised and he had to be very careful, and his tenderness brought so many conflicting emotions to the surface.

  Feelings she wasn’t willing to expose.

  “You were brilliant in there,” he said.

  “You can’t mean that.”

  “I do. Feisty, honest, and real. I’ve missed that, Kayla. I’ve missed you. Ever since I’ve returned from tour, we’ve been so careful with each other. Aren’t you tired of it?”

  “Yes, but…” Scared, too. Scared of how fragile they were. Since they were sixteen years old, the one surety in their lives had been each other. She didn’t have that certainty anymore.

  “No buts.” He kissed her again, passionately, and she wound her arms around his neck, wanting to believe him. And then, as their old magic kicked in, just wanting.

  “We’re in public,” she murmured, but it was the protest of a good girl asking to be persuaded, and Jared responded with…persuasion. Oh, the man could kiss angels into sin.

  She gave herself up to sensation—deep, slow kisses that spiraled down her spine igniting desire. Still kissing her, Jared started walking her into a nearby service alley, and Kayla stirred from her sensual daze. “Someone might see.”

  “Yeah.” His voice was a shiver in the dark.

  Excitement threaded through her nervousness, and she craned her neck to see past him. The public parking lot was a pocket of dark, illuminated by the occasional street light and screened by leafy trees. The evening was too late for many new arrivals and too early for going home. After they’d given their virg
inity to each other at eighteen, they’d had sex in a lot of public spaces. Neither had owned a car so they’d had to take chances.

  “We used to do this all the time.” Reading her mind, he unbuttoned her coat. “And you were fearless. I saw that in there tonight.”

  She tried to laugh. “Now who’s ruining the mood?”

  “You don’t want to be Kayla? Then be Betty, the sexy woman who’s been driving Bob crazy with lust all night. This is his last chance to—”

  “Cop a feel?”

  “Make her happy.”

  “Bob has a pretty high opinion of himself.”

  “Well, he’s got a lot to offer. For a start, he’s not the ‘hardest work you’ll ever have to do’ husband.”

  “He’s not?”

  “Nuh-uh. He’s an escape from Christmas stress. Use him—”

  She kissed him, cold lips, warm mouths, hot tongues, letting her coat fall open so he could skim his hands over her butt, up her hips to her breasts in the slut’s dress. The cold burned, her body melted, her shiver was an erotic reawakening.

  Tugging her bag from her shoulder, Jared dropped it at their feet, then opened his coat and stepped in to wrap it around them both. The leather was soft and cold on her fingertips, the silk lining warm from his body heat. And his body had so much heat.

  With a small moan, she pressed closer and buried her cold nose in his sweater, the fine mohair soft as a kitten over hard muscle. The workouts he’d adopted to increase stamina for touring had built his frame to heroic proportions.

  In the dark, she didn’t have to care that hers didn’t match. In the dark, she was Betty, who knew what men wanted. And knew how to give it to them. She flattened her tits against his chest and moved her hips, relishing the hardness of his erection, relishing his hunger. She had forgotten the power of opportunistic sex, forgotten its thrill for her.

  Their kisses deepened. Lust wrapped their bodies with an invisible cord, drawing them tighter together. She wiggled her hands under his sweater, warming her fingers on his skin and tracing the musculature of his back before sliding them around, up and over his torso to his flat smooth nipples. Scraped them lightly.

  He found her nipples through her dress and massaged the hard nubs. She arched. Yes, that’s what she wanted. A quick learner, was Bob. Squeezing his tight ass, she encouraged his hands with an inciting chuckle.

  Jared freed her breasts from the cups of the dress, warm fingers tantalizing her cool flesh, and she rolled her head back and closed her eyes. The night chill accentuated the scorching heat of his mouth on her nipple. It pricked with cold when he released it and moved his attention to her other breast, the sensation deliciously painful.

  She fumbled to undo his belt, needing his cock bare, parting her legs as much has the dress would allow to give him access to—

  “What the hell are these?”

  She groaned. “Shapewear.”

  He grappled with the smooth fabric. “How do I get them off?”

  “The same way I got them on. Brute force.”

  Jared tried pulling from the bottom, then hooking his thumbs in the waist-band and pushing down. “Fuck, they’re like a chastity belt.”

  His frustrated grappling triggered a fit of giggles. What else could she do in such a ridiculous situation? Her husband didn’t find it funny.

  “I’m ripping them off.”

  “Babe, the Incredible Hulk couldn’t tear this fabric. Here, let me help.” She tried to roll them down while he pulled at the legs and the pants started to move.

  The door to the service entrance banged open, spilling light into the alley. Before she could move, he had shoved her against the wall and opened his leather coat to cover her. Frozen, they watched the bartender drop a crate of empty beer bottles three feet from where they stood. He didn’t look up. The door slammed shut, cloaking them in darkness.

  “Oh my God, that was close.” With one hand, she crammed her breasts into the bodice, with the other she tugged at her shapewear.

  Jared moved to help her. “Ditch those things. I never want to see them again.”

  She smacked his hands away and kept hauling. “So don’t buy me dresses that highlight my flaws and then take me to places where being a size twelve feels like a baby elephant.”

  “When the hell did you start caring about this stuff?” he said, bewildered.

  “About the same time you became a sex symbol. We live in a shallow world now.” These damn pants wouldn’t come up any higher. She fumbled on the ground for her bag. “Let’s get to the car.”

  Feeling like a penguin, she waddled down the alley then stopped, half laughing, on the verge of tears. “Okay, you can help me.”

  He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, a gangster in his black leather coat. “So you’re at my mercy, huh?”

  “Quit with the kidding. I just need to haul them up enough to walk.”

  “I have a way better idea.” He bent, caught her around the waist, and hoisted her over his shoulder.

  She gasped and clutched at her bag. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking care of the situation.” He started walking out of the alley. “Point me toward your car.”

  “Jared, are you crazy?” She pressed her hands on his ass, lifting herself to check for passersby.

  He slapped her butt. “And stop bringing up your husband.”

  “Ha,” she said. “Didn’t feel it.”

  He slapped again, harder. “Ow. At least my butt’s warm now.” Hearing voices, she glanced up and saw people leaving the bar. Oh, hell. “The car’s at number twenty-eight, head left.” As he swung in the correct direction, the couple caught sight of them and their voices stopped abruptly. Hiding her face, Kayla gave them a thumbs-up to show she was okay.

  Jared stopped by her SUV. “Unlock the car, Betty.”

  Upside down, she dug in her coat pocket then pressed the remote, and heard an answering beep. Patted her date’s butt. “Well, thanks for an eventful evening, Bob, but my husband is going to need a ride home.”

  “Your husband can wait.”

  Opening the door, he unlatched the kids’ car seats and dropped them in the front, then unloaded her in the back seat. Climbing in beside her, he slammed the door shut and locked it.

  She said innocently, “Is this to help me with my pants?”

  “Sure, Betty, I’m all about helping.” His hand slipped under her dress to the gap between her shapewear and body. His hands were cold on her inner thighs, but that wasn’t why she shivered.

  “Never wear these again, promise me,” he said.

  “That’s not practical—” He caught her mouth with his, stopping her mid-answer while his fingers moved between her legs, parting and stroking.

  “You’re wet,” he whispered. “Seems a shame not to take advantage while you’re trapped like this.”

  “I’m not trapped.” She tried to move her legs, but the bunched latex around her upper thighs wouldn’t give.

  He chuckled, an evil laugh. Then the sound of approaching voices made her catch his wrist.

  She caught a shadowy glimpse of white teeth as he grinned, he used his weight to push her to a lying position. She swallowed a whimper as his clever fingers continued to do wicked things between her legs while two couples stood three cars away, discussing the baby back ribs and chocolate cream pie and saying, “We must do this again.”

  “Oh yeah,” he breathed in her ear. “We really must do this again.”

  Frustration and passion, the combination was too familiar. She banged the back of her head against the seat. “This isn’t going to work with people so close.”

  “Remember when we started dating and the only penetration was with fingers?” He played as he spoke.

  Oh God. She pressed into his hand, smelling the leather of his jacket, feeling the weight of his body heavy on hers, and remembered all the bad boys who’d tried to talk her into the back seat at drive-ins. Remembered having to make the first move on Jared, who’d been res
pectful and shy.

  He wasn’t shy now, one hand up her dress, the other tangled in her hair while he whispered dirty things in her ear. Pleasure built.

  “Stop fighting this…me. Us. I miss you, I love you. Be mine, baby.”

  With a gasp, she came so hard he had to block her cry with his kiss.

  The release was incredible. Every bone, every muscle seemed to melt and re-fuse. How long since she’d last felt this spine-tingling satisfaction? She wouldn’t call servicing the rock star Jared had become on tour, intimacy. And since he’d been home, she’d felt such pressure to pretend they were okay now, that she’d given herself over to his service in another, more insidious way—proving she was still the best lay he’d ever have and selling herself short in the process.

  Kayla started to cry. He only remembered it happening maybe five times in their relationship after emotionally-charged sex. Their wedding night, the first time they’d made love after Maddie’s birth, the night Jared won a place in Rage. When he’d asked her why, she always sobbed, “I just love you so much.”

  She sobbed the words again now and he suffered because tonight her emotion felt like something he’d forced from her, rather than something she’d offered freely. He’d wanted things real between them; he hadn’t wanted to make her feel raw.

  “Love, come here.” His own emotions close to the surface, he gathered her onto his lap and cradled her while she wept, her face burrowed into his neck.

  For so long, she’d held everything together. Their family, their marriage, her positivity that somehow, she’d find a way back for them. While he’d been blind to his selfishness. Rocking her in his arms, murmuring words of comfort, he silently cursed himself for pushing so hard for reconnection. For making this about his need for reassurance. Tell me it’s not too late.

  “Oh…b—boy.” She pulled it together and pushed away from him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “There’s a box of tissues in the glove compartment. Can you…?”

  He released her to retrieve them while she wriggled out of her shapewear and pulled down her dress. Accepting a couple of tissues, she blew her nose hard. “Well,” she said, managing a shaky smile. “It was good for me.”