Red Hot Lovers: 18 Contemporary Romance Books of Love, Passion, and Sexy Heroes by Your Favorite Top-Selling Authors

by Milly Taiden

  She followed me. “What happened?”

  “I lost my job and that jerk face, Paul, got it. He followed me to Mexico, probably to scoop the assignment by getting better pictures, and what he got were pictures of me and Jet.” We were in the elevator going down and I paced the small confines.

  “I’ve never been so angry in my life!” My movements staccato and sharp.

  “But I heard Kevin say he was going to call the police.” Lily put a hand on me, stopped my frantic pacing.

  “I punched Paul.”

  She squealed and started to laugh. “Are you shitting me? Like bad?”

  A smile cracked through the anger. “I think I knocked him out.”

  Lily hopped around me like a prize fighter, fists in the air. “Oh my God, I wish I could have seen it! Like when Billy Maine tried to pull my hair in school and you knocked his tooth out.”

  I’d forgotten about that. “Maybe I’m just a thug underneath it all.”

  Lily drove me home and I begged her to leave me be, just for the night. I still clutched the pictures to my chest and she finally gave in.

  “Okay. But I’ll see you in the morning. We’ve got to find you a new job. Pronto.”

  Alone again, I spread the pictures out on the living room floor. Lighting the small, wood-burning stove, I fed the pictures into it one by one.

  As I fed them into the fire, my anger grew. Anger at myself for being so naive, at Jet for fooling me, at my family for leaving me alone.

  I started to rip the pictures, at a frantic pace, unable to stop myself or the tears that flowed down my cheeks.

  “I hate you!” The words erupted out of me, bounced through the room and clashed my eardrums, sounding as if someone else had screamed them. Sucking in a deep shuddering breath, I stared down at my feet at the last picture left intact.

  It was the one of us on the surfboards, taken with a night lens. The little shit had really gone prepared. I tried to pick out which moment the picture had been taken. Was I talking, or was Jet? Had his hand been on my thigh or around my waist? Did it matter? Not really, because this was it, this was all I had left of him. No, I didn’t even have this. I drew another deep, folded the picture in half and put it in, flames consuming it in a curl of fire.

  Just like my parents, and just like Ryan, Jet was gone from my life.

  I slid to my knees, tears slipping from my eyes and leaving wet droplets in the short gray carpet. Not again, I couldn’t do this again.

  12

  Jet

  Pacing the small hotel room was not helping. Fury left me shaking, unable to think straight.

  That damn phone call from Jasper. I groaned and grabbed the edge of the dresser, my knees going weak.

  “I don’t want you telling all your friends, Jet. Keep your fucking mouth shut when it comes to me and my shit,” Jasper said.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I grumbled, brain still trying to put the hung over pieces back together.

  “Your girl, Jasmin. I don’t want you fucking talking to her about me. Ever.”

  And then he’d hung up. I’d made the assumption she’d told him she knew, but now, sober and playing the conversation back in my head, Jasper had only been warning me not to tell her. Nothing else.

  Hell, he was coming over right now with food. We were fine, or as fine as we’d ever been. Reggie and I, not so much. Fuck, I’d bashed his face in for trying to help her, but all I could see was his hands on her, how her eyes had turned to him for help.

  Help for getting away from me.

  I let out a groan, digging my hands deep into my hair, guilt and shame wracking me. I was no better than my father.

  Jasmin was gone, which had been my goal, but I couldn’t make myself believe it was a good thing. Even though it was what I’d been aiming for when I’d gone to the bar, hit on Tina, and let her take me back to her room.

  I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. “It’s a good thing. We never would have worked.” The words were meant to convince myself. Maybe if I said them enough I’d start to believe them.

  The last image I had of Jasmin, god, she’d been angry. Green eyes on fire, pissed off to the hilt, and she’d cussed me out. Fuck, just thinking about it turned me on. How wrong was that?

  Jasper let himself into the room, saw my face, and saw the state of my body.

  His lips pressed together. “Can’t you control yourself?”

  “Question of the day.” I wasn’t so sure anymore. So many years spent avoiding fights, suppressing any anger, fighting not to be like my father. And in one instant I’d lost that fight, beat the shit out of my mentor, and pushed the best girl I’d ever known right out of my life.

  I turned my back on him, allowing myself to ask the question that had been clawing at the inside of my brain. “How did Jasmin know where I was?”

  “She came to the set, looking for you. Said something about having to go home to deal with a job. Reggie had seen you go with Tina.”

  Stunned, I stared at him. “And he told Jasmin I was with Tina, and she came to the room anyway?”

  “No. We gave her the room number. Let her go in blind. Reggie didn’t want me to, it's why he showed up there.”

  “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  Jasper put the two bags of fast food on the table. “Because you would never work, the two of you. Better to get it out of the way now. Let her see that you aren’t any good for her.”

  Anger, pure and hot, lit through me, but Jasmin’s voice whispered to me. Just breathe.

  I slowly let the anger go, knowing that Jasper was right. How could I argue with him? I was a fucking high school drop-out, a runaway. I’d never really grown up, not really. And hadn’t my actions earlier just proved that he was right?

  Jasmin didn’t need me in her life.

  Jasper didn’t understand what it was like to want someone so badly, but know it wasn’t good for her. To actually care that it wasn’t good for her.

  My heart thumped painfully, and the thought crossed my mind that if this was love, I wasn’t sure the risk was worth it. Her green eyes and sweet smile flickered across my mind. She wouldn’t take me now, not after the scene with Tina. Not after I’d screamed at her on the sidewalk, not after she’d seen me smash Reggie to a pulp just for touching her. But that had been what I wanted. Right?

  Jasper eyed me, a look of uncertainty crossing his face before he let out a sigh. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but she left you a note. Do you want it?”

  I stood, in the middle of the room, torn between wanting it and telling him to burn it. To purge her from my life.

  “Fuck, give me the damn note.”

  Jasper rolled to his feet and pointed at the dresser. On the top was a folded napkin I recognized from the restaurant Jasmin, Hugh, and I had eaten at. The Tortilla Shell.

  Her name was scrawled across the top, her phone number and even her address. Nothing else, no “call me” or “I’ll miss you.” I frowned at the paper, as if glaring at it would somehow clarify the meaning behind it. Was I supposed to just show up on her doorstep?

  “What are you going to do?” Jasper asked, throwing himself onto the bed, legs spread wide and hands behind his head.

  “Did she leave this with you before or after you phoned me?”

  Jasper took a bite of cheesy something or other, licking at his lips. “Before.”

  I crumpled up the note, cursing my stupidity, and tossed it in the garbage can. Jasmin had done nothing wrong; I had fucked this up. “Doesn’t matter then.”

  I yanked a bag out and stuffed it with clothes. Vancouver was my next stop and there was no point in putting it off. The sooner I got on set, the sooner I could be done and off to the next job. Keep busy and maybe I could put Jasmin from my mind.

  Laughter erupted from Jasper; he thumped the wall behind him and hammered his legs on the bed until the thing creaked.

  “You’ve lost your mind. There are a million women out there, surely you cou
ld find one that is more your style.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I growled at him, zipping the bag closed.

  “Man, you don’t deserve a girl that good. Shit, none of us do. Not you, not me” —his hand splayed on his chest— “sure as hell not Hugh. I met Jasmin once, one time, and I knew she was too fucking good for you. So untie the knot in your fucking panties and get over her.”

  The energy left me, and I leaned against the dresser, tipped my head back until all I could see was the dirty off-white ceiling with flies crawling on it. “I’m over her, man. Done. The whole thing, it was just a game, all right?”

  “You sure about that? Cause right now you don’t look like it’s all that funny.”

  I brought my head back and made eye contact with him for the first time since he’d been here. “Hypothetically speaking, what if she was willing? Would you turn down a woman too good for you?”

  “Yes. Because I’d break her,” he said, his voice lowering. “I’d fucking break her and wouldn’t even be able to stop it. You aren’t any better than me. I know what I told you, and I know you think that makes me worse off than you, but you are JUST AS FUCKING BROKEN AS I AM.”

  He was breathing hard, chest heaving, eyes bright with anger.

  The anger was infectious and I was shouting back before I could stop myself. “I fucking well know that! It’s why I wanted her. Jasmin, she put the pieces back together for me. She makes me not so broken.”

  “So you’d wreck her life, to fix yours?”

  I hung my head, shame curling around me, tightening my muscles. He was right. I’d ruin it for her. Ruin everything she’d ever wanted. This conversation was over.

  Jasmin was over.

  “I have a shoot in Vancouver,” I said, and turned to the door. “You coming with me?”

  “Fuck. Why not? Rodney’s such a moron; he used me for one stunt and said that was all he needed. Besides, my therapist told me we’d have to hash this out at some point.”

  He grumbled that last bit, and I couldn’t have been more shocked. His . . . therapist?

  He caught me staring at him. “What? How the hell else am I supposed to deal with this shit? Talk to you?” A bitter, hollow laugh escaped his lips.

  I didn’t know how to react, or what the best thing was to say.

  Jasper laughed again. “See, even now you’re trying to figure out a way to protect me, to not hurt me with anything you do. Fuck, man, I’m all grown up. Not your job anymore.”

  He was right, and he was wrong. But for now, I let him believe that he was right.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “The flight leaves in three hours.”

  * * * * *

  Going from the warmth and sunshine of Mexico to the damp, overcast city of Vancouver was not pleasant. Shivering, I hailed a taxi, and Jasper and I were taken straight to the set, where we met up with our stunt coordinator, Sienna. She was young, pretty, and didn’t take shit from any of the guys. Caramel colored hair, like thick honey, hung in waves down her back, a petite frame covered in lithe muscle and eyes the exact shade of the lavender bush flowers I remembered from some place I visited.

  “You should work on her. She could help you get over the green eyes you kept muttering about in your sleep on the plane.” Jasper nudged me, and I grunted.

  As pretty as she was, Sienna was not my Spitfire. I wasn’t sure anyone could replace Jasmin. “Not interested. Why don’t you take a crack at her?”

  Jasper gave me a wry twist of his lips. “Thanks, but I’ll take a rain check on this one.”

  I grunted, accepting it for what it was. Jasper was right. We were both broken; the difference was I’d tasted moments of peace with Jasmin. Found a balance in my life that would be so easy to just let flow over me. Mind you, that chance had gone out the window the minute I went back to Tina’s hotel room, not to mention the screaming Jasmin had taken from me. I shook my head. I didn’t deserve a woman that good.

  “Boys, let’s set the rules right off the bat so there are no misunderstandings. While you’re here, there will be no ‘zing’ of any sort,” Sienna said, hands on her tiny hips.

  “Zing?” Jasper asked the question I wondered myself. Sienna was new to being a stunt coordinator. She’d hurt her back in a free-fall jump and when offered the chance to be a coordinator, she’d taken the job without looking back. So far, I’d only heard good things about her. Of course, the fact she was easy on the eyes had nothing to do with those good things I was hearing.

  “Zing. Boozing, womanizing, harassing, carousing.” Her eyes flicked between us. “None of it.”

  I gave her a smile, felt the falseness of it on my lips. Back to pretending now. But what did it matter? “You know the last two were ‘sing’ not ‘zing.’”

  “Close enough for the ship I run,” she said, and then snapped her fingers, taking me by surprise. She turned her back on us and walked away, barking orders in a tone that reminded me all too much of Reggie on the warpath.

  “Shit,” Jasper muttered. “I didn’t think she’d be such a hard ass.”

  Me, I didn’t care. We went to work, did our stunts; the world moved on as if Mexico and Jasmin had never happened. For me, it was torture, dreaming about Jasmin, catching a whiff of perfume I thought was hers and searching for green eyes around every corner. Everyone around me was fine; I was the one unable to function.

  Our week in Vancouver came and went with no excitement, no ‘zing’ as Sienna put it. Jasper and I talked about nothing important despite his announcement that we needed to hash things out. On the surface we skated, talked about weather, locations we’d been on, jobs that were coming up. He was planning on going back to Europe, I had several shoots in Hollywood, but those didn’t start for a week.

  I had time to kill.

  And Seattle was just a short jaunt away. Jasmin was so close; did I dare go see her?

  “Don’t do it,” Jasper said, startling me out of my thoughts.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He was packing gear and clothes for his flight; he was leaving that night on the red eye. “I can see it in your face. You’re actually thinking about going after her, aren’t you?”

  I scrubbed my face with my hands. “I can’t stop thinking about her. I can’t sleep, food tastes like shit.”

  “Do what you normally do when bad things happen,” he said, throwing his shaving kit on the top of his bag, light green eyes flashing. “Get laid, get drunk, and get over her.”

  “It isn’t that easy.”

  Jasper gave a grunt, his head down as he stuffed his bag. “Hell, it isn’t like you love her.”

  I stayed silent, almost afraid to move. His head snapped up, eyes wide and shocked.

  “Is it?”

  “I think. Maybe. Yeah. Fucked if I know. I ain’t never been in love before,” I said, feeling my gut roll at the thought of never seeing her again.

  He let out a grunt and then started to laugh. “Seriously, you’ve got to be kidding me. Fine, do whatever you need to do, but don’t come crying to me when she breaks your heart.”

  I snorted and threw a pillow at him. “Since when have I ever come crying to you, smart ass?”

  After that, he let the topic drop, though his eyes watched me all too closely. An hour later, the front desk rang our room to let us know his cab was waiting. He stood, then reached across and grabbed my arm.

  “If you really think you’ve got a shot with her, much as I think you don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell, go for it.”

  I stared at him, wondered what had happened to the Jasper of an hour ago.

  “Why the sudden change? Before, you told me I wasn’t good enough, shouldn’t even bother.” I restrained myself from smacking him.

  He shrugged. “I figured she was just another piece of ass you were planning to toss out once you were done with her. You and me aren’t good enough for women like her, but if she’s willing to give you a second chance . . . well, who am I to say it won�
�t work?”

  “I accused her of something she didn’t do. I told her . . .” I closed my eyes, seeing her face and the hurt in her eyes as I screamed at her, seeing the fear in them as I pummeled Reggie. “I told her I couldn’t trust her.”

  Jasper’s cab was waiting, but he stood there, looking at me for a full minute. “You told her about me. That’s why you flipped out on her.”

  Ah, fuck.

  “Yeah. I did. I told her because I didn’t know how to make it right, because I knew you were right to blame me. You’re my little brother! Goddamn it, if I can’t protect you, how the hell am I supposed to look after anyone else? I told her and she didn’t judge me, or you, or even our piece of shit father.”

  Now it was out. I waited for him to explode, to lose his shit, and tackle me to the ground, pummel me into a bloody pulp. I’d let him; I deserved it.

  “And then you yelled at her because you thought she tipped me off that she knew.” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t even flinch.

  I couldn’t even look him in the eye. “That’s the gist of it.”

  “Man, I can’t . . .” He put his hands on his hips, his face one of mixed emotions that moved across him too fast for me to identify. “I came here in part to tell you I was wrong. That’s why the fucking therapy. What happened was just the fucking shithole of our life. You’ve got the scars on your body to prove it; you did keep me safe, the best you could. My scars just aren’t so visible. Let the past fucking go.” He paused and let out a big breath. “I am.”

  “You fucking well aren’t,” I snapped before I thought better of it.

  “At least I’m trying.” The exasperation was heavy in his voice. “More than you can say, douche bag.” His lips quirked at usage of our favorite childhood name for each other.

  I slid my hands through my hair. “That’s it then. Just let it go?”

  He shrugged and sucked at one of his canine teeth. “Yeah, let it go. Don’t let it burn you.”

  I grunted. “Don’t wallow in someone else’s shit bucket. That’s what you’re telling me?”