Chapter 1
The screech of tires only vaguely registered as both bare knees connected with the pavement. And holy hell, did it hurt. What did they make the streets out of in this city, shards of glass?
Christa Reilly fought through the pain, pushing to her feet with a wince. She turned and nearly smashed her face on the grill of a hulking, black SUV. Her heart gave a thud. Geez, that had been a close call.
Before her life even had the chance to flash before her eyes, the driver who had almost run her over laid on his horn. “Get the fuck out of the road!” he shouted through the open window.
Christa hobbled off to the side of the road as the traffic that had gotten clogged to the point of gridlock started flowing again. The looky-loos on the sidewalk scattered as she approached, one giving her a sheepish smile before scurrying away. Most of the throng hadn’t even noticed. God, she hated this city. Back home, if someone had almost run her over, they would’ve at least gotten out of their car to see if she was okay. Even if, technically, it was her fault for jaywalking.
She spared a quick glance at the slim gold watch on her wrist. Only ten minutes to get to The Electric Factory before it was too late. She let out a muffled curse. No way she was going to make it. Still, she was sure as hell going to try. No point in almost getting killed for nothing.
Using a telephone pole for balance, she bent and yanked off one red-soled designer shoe, then the other. Hiking up her skirt, she weaved her way through the masses of people. At first she jogged, years of breeding making her loath to call attention to herself. But with each passing minute, the urgency of the situation pressed on her chest a little harder and soon she was running flat-out.
She risked another glance at her watch, not slowing her pace. Five minutes. Her scraped knees throbbed in protest as she dialed it up to a full-on sprint.
A blinding flash lit the sky, followed by a boom of thunder seeming to come from all directions. The heavens parted, and it started to pour. Like a synchronized flash-mob, the city-dwellers whipped out giant, black umbrellas.
With a groan, she thought back to the one she’d abandoned at the restaurant. She tried to cover her hair with her hands as she ran, but it was pointless. She was soaked through inside of thirty seconds. It might seem as if fate was trying to tell her something, if she believed in that kind of thing.
Good thing she didn’t. Fate could piss off.
Cold rain ran in icy rivulets down her face, almost blinding her, but she pressed on. It felt like forever had passed when she finally saw the neon-lit marquis.
Hank Lemon and the Law, ONE NIGHT ONLY!
This time she looked both ways before crossing, splashing through puddles in her stocking-clad feet. While the pencil skirt and silk blouse had been perfect for drinks at Deaux Bistro after the conference, they did little to shield her from the quickly plummeting temperatures. Her teeth chattered as she approached the building. She ran an ineffectual hand through her sopping hair before pushing through the double doors.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
She found herself eye-to-chest with a wall of a man in a t-shirt emblazoned with the word “Security”. Craning her neck back, she tried to find his face.
“I’m here to see the band,” she said, her breath coming in short gasps. “Do you have a ticket?”
She swallowed hard and shook her head. “No. But I’ll buy one right now.”
As she reached for her purse, her stomach dropped. Her purse was still on the back of her chair at the restaurant along with everything else.
Way to think it through, Christa.
“Okay, I forgot my bag. But please. I need to get in there. I’m an old friend of the bass player and I really need to talk to him. Please,” she whispered, ready to grovel if she had to.
He shook his head, but not unkindly. “Wouldn’t matter if you had the money or not. If you don’t already have a ticket, it’s a no-go. The show is sold out. Plus, it’s almost over anyway. They only have like one more song.”
“Even more of a reason to let me in. It’s almost over. No one will even notice me.”
His eyes widened incredulously as a crack of laughter escaped his lips. “You look like you either murdered someone and hid the body, or just escaped someone trying to murder you. You don’t exactly blend.”
She spared a glance down at her clothes. He was so right. Her shirt was sopping wet and had come partially untucked. Her legs were streaked with blood and her stockings looked like someone had attacked her with a cheese grater. The shoeless, dirty feet just put the icing on the cake.
What would Father say if he could see her now?
Shoving that thought away, she tried one last time, desperate tears stinging her eyes.
“I’ll do anything. I’ll come back and pay you. I’ll make you a cake. I’ll groom your dog. Just…I’ve got to get in there.” She wrung her hands together and considered getting on her knees and pleading.
She must have looked seriously pathetic because the beefy bouncer finally sighed, rolled his eyes and lifted the rope. “Go ahead, but if anyone asks, I’m telling them you snuck in.”
Her knees almost buckled in relief. Finally, something was going her way. “Thank you, thank you!” She sprung to her tiptoes and attempted to plant a kiss on his cheek, but ended up kissing his chin when she couldn’t reach. He blushed, quickly turning back to his post.
She followed the faint sound of music, walking down a short hallway, then pushed through a second set of doors. The music exploded in her ears as the female singer she couldn’t see yet sang of heartbreak and revenge.
Christa stepped in, groaning in relief as the warm air of the crowded room enveloped her. The sea of people didn’t want to budge, but she was small, and squeezed through even the tightest space, methodically pushing her way toward the front.
It took a few painstaking minutes—literally, because her toes got stomped on more than once—but she made it. She shouldered her way through the last of the jostling bodies and stared up at the stage, her gaze unerringly drawn to one spot like a heat- seeking missile.
The music faded to the background and the blood rushed to her ears. She swayed, suddenly unsteady, as she stared directly into the stunned, dark eyes of Tai Sullivan.
The only boy she’d ever loved.
Tai froze, his nimble fingers going limp as he looked down into the audience and into the face he’d never expected to see again. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. There was no way fate could be this cruel.
Even as he tried to deny it, his body knew better. His pulse hammered, his stomach clenched, his chest grew tight.
Christa fucking Reilly.
She must have been just as shocked as he was, because she looked as if she’d been rabbit-punched in the gut. He imagined he looked about the same. It had been a long time. Ten years. So long ago that seeing her again should have been nothing more than a road bump. Something to file under “Annoying Coincidences”. So why did it feel as if he were being pressed to death by a slab of granite?
Because it was Christa fucking Reilly, that’s why. And crushing him was her favorite pastime.
The music that had somehow become nothing more than white noise the moment he saw her halted as applause exploded from the crowd.
“All right, Philadelphia! We got one more for you tonight. We’re Hank Lemon and the Law, and we thank you so much for coming out. Ready, boys?”
He wrenched his gaze from Christa and met Quinn’s concerned eyes. Suddenly he became aware of the forgotten bass in his hands.
Right. Middle of a concert.
He gave his singer a grim nod and tried to focus.
She sent back a reassuring smile, leaned back and called to the rest of the band. “And one, two, three, four!”
Thank God she was such a pro. He’d totally beefed it, although he had no idea how badly. Had he dropped out completely, or worse, played a bunch of discordant nonsense? He’d know soon enough because even if Quinn let hi
m off the hook, the guys would be razzing him about it for the next week.
He just had to get through one more song. He phoned it in, hands on autopilot, as he actively avoided looking anywhere near the spot Christa had been occupying. She probably left the minute she’d gotten over the shock of seeing him but he wasn’t taking any chances.
Beau wrapped up his fiddle solo, cueing the end of the song, and Tai let out a sigh of relief. Now to get the hell out of here before the rest of the band started grilling him. The guys might think he’d just gotten distracted for a minute, but Quinn was way too perceptive and a butt-insky to boot. She’d blow off the mistakes, but she’d be merciless in trying to figure out the cause of them.
He set the bass down on its stand and stepped forward to give the crowd a wave. Every instinct screamed for him to try to find Christa again, but he resisted, letting his vision go blurry until the screaming fans all blended together into one giant mass.
He skipped the usual hand-slapping with the front row and hightailed it backstage, thanking the crew as he passed. The plan was to get his shit from the dressing room then get to the Man Bus before the rest of the band got back.
Evasion tactics. At least until morning.
It was all systems go until he walked out the backdoor of the club. About halfway between him and his target destination stood the source of his angst. Christa Reilly.
His heart sped up even as his pace slowed. Her face was turned away from him and he attempted to backtrack before she caught sight of him but the heavy metal door slammed shut right before he could catch the knob.
He froze for a second, weighing his options. She had to have heard it. In fact, he could almost feel her eyes drilling into the back of his skull. Short of being totally obvious and running back inside with his tail between his legs, there was no getting out of it.
He pasted a blank look on his face, turning toward her. Then he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, nice and easy. As he got closer, he noticed what shock had kept him from noticing before. Her corn-colored hair was plastered to her skull, literally dripping wet. A pair of fancy shoes hung from her manicured fingertips, and a gray silk blouse clung to her skin like papier-mâché on a balloon. But it was her eyes, those haunted blue eyes, that told him all he needed to know.
Her showing up tonight wasn’t a coincidence at all.
Christa had come here for him.
He looked like a dead man walking, his expression so resigned, so utterly hopeless, she almost wanted to let him off the hook. To leave and never look back. Maybe then he’d be happy. But there was too much unfinished business between them, things that needed to be said. And at least the rain had stopped. Maybe it was time to rethink that whole fate thing and take it as a good sign.
“Hi,” she croaked as he stopped a couple yards in front of her.
She tried not to stare but it was no easy feat. Man, he was beautiful. His jet-black hair was cut close, with a longer thatch in front almost in his eyes. And those eyes. Dark as sin and so expressive he barely needed words, they dominated his face. His skin was spun gold, his mouth full and firm. It was only the severe slash of cheekbones and the scar on his chin that saved him from being too pretty.
He looked just as she remembered, only older. Harder. Guarded.
Because of her?
The guilt that had been a near-constant companion for the past decade settled into the well-worn space in her gut.
“Hello, Christa. Been a long time.”
He inclined his head in a polite nod, but his voice was so cold, she flinched. There was one more difference between this Tai and the old one. The warmth that had lit his eyes when he used to look at her was nowhere to be found.
So this was how it was going to be. She’d tried to prepare herself for his possible reaction on the run over, but still, it hurt.
“Yeah. Ten years. In fact, I thought I might see you at our reunion a few months ago.”
His black brows winged up in disbelief, the cool mask of indifference slipping for a moment. “Seriously?”
Her cheeks burned. “Well, I mean, I hoped you might.”
“Not really a whole lot I’d want to go back to there.”
She nodded dumbly, wishing she could take back her words. Of course he wouldn’t want to go back to Fairfield. The town held nothing but terrible memories. And me! a part of her wanted to scream.
“So what brings you to Philadelphia?” As he spoke, his gaze shifted to the tour bus twenty yards away. It was clear he wanted nothing more than to escape her presence.
She swallowed hard to dislodge the lump wedged in her throat. “Business. I was at a conference. We went for drinks afterward, and I happened to look out the window and see a billboard with your face on it.”
He tipped his head to the side and regarded her warily. “So you just decided to drop everything and come here?”
She opened her mouth then closed it, not trusting herself to speak. What could she possibly say?
Yeah, I basically left potential clients at the restaurant. With the bill, she recalled with a wince. Then I ran over here in the rain just so I could see your face one more time.
Despite the chill in the air, her cheeks were on fire now. He was still watching her, those expressive eyes totally inscrutable.
What the hell had she been thinking coming here like this? Their past had been such a huge part of her. Not a day went by that she didn’t think of him and what they’d been through. But why had she assumed the same was true for him? He was a successful musician with a dream life. She was likely nothing more than a nuisance to him now. An unwanted blast from the past.
The thought made her stomach turn almost as much as the guilt did.
“Sorry, I just thought…nothing. I wanted to say hello, is all. Congratulate you on your success. No one deserves it more than you.”
She hadn’t told him the whole of it, but that much was true. He was the hardest- working, most disciplined person she’d ever met and it had clearly paid off.
He nodded his thanks, then looked away. His profile was stunning. Helpless to stop herself, she lifted a hand to his face to brush his cheek with her thumb. Heat sizzled through her even at that slight touch.
He jerked away as if she’d bit him. “Don’t,” he growled.
Gone was the cold, impenetrable gaze. Heat blazed in his eyes and his jaw tensed. It lasted only an instant, the shutters slamming back into place in a flash, but he wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he would have her believe. That single moment in time thawed the ice in her veins, just enough to make it bearable.
He had some feelings for her. Good or bad, but definitely not indifferent, even after all this time. If there was a chance, any chance at all, that he could forgive her…that he might even consider letting her in his life again, she wouldn’t give up just because he wasn’t going to make it easy on her. She’d certainly never made it easy on him and he’d stuck by her until the very end.
Maybe they could have a do-over, a different end. She sucked in a breath and stepped forward.
“The other reason I came is because…I think about you every day. Every night. I’ve missed you, Tai.”
Chapter 2
Each word was like a knife in the chest. He should’ve cut her off from the get-go. That had been his mistake. Letting her in, even for a second. He should’ve said hi, been polite, but when she tried to engage him, he should’ve pleaded a headache or something. In an effort to pretend he was over it—over her—he’d attempted to play it cool, as if it were no big deal.
And, in under five minutes, he was back on this crazy, nauseating roller coaster with her as if he’d never gotten off.
Now she stared up at him with her wide blue eyes, shiny with tears, and he was stuck. Stuck like a fucking fly in a web. They stood like that for a long moment until a clatter broke the spell.
“My shoe,” she mumbled, bending to retrieve it. She let out a pained gasp as she straightened.
An instinctive surge of protectiveness blasted through him. “What’s the matter?”
She shook her head, but her features were strained. He stepped back, letting his gaze run the length of her body. It wasn’t just her stockings that were shredded. Her knees were a bloody mess.
“Jesus, what did you do?”
“I fell. On the way over.” Her eyes shifted away from his for a second. “I was kind of in a hurry.”
He bit back a curse and grabbed her elbow. “Come on,” he growled as he ushered her toward the steps of the Man Bus.
“It’s fine. I’m a big girl, Tai. I can handle a few scrapes,” she protested.
“Yeah, well, all I need is for someone to see you leaving here looking like that after spending time with me. I’m not about to get arrested over you. Again.”
He regretted it almost as soon as it came out of his mouth, but there was no taking it back. So much for pretending he’d gotten over their twisted past.
She wrenched her arms from his hand and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to face her. “Tai…” Her voice was a whisper and the long column of her elegant throat worked as she tried to get the words out. “I need to tell you, I’m so s—”
“Don’t,” he snapped. “I’m not interested in some Kumbaya bullshit conversation where we hug it out and go our separate ways better people for it. What’s done is done. No harm no foul. I’ve got a great life now. You always did. I’m going to get you some dry clothes and clean up those scrapes. But then you need to head back to wherever you came from.”
He took her by the wrist and pulled her along, up the stairs of the bus, noting with relief that it was dark inside. If he was quick about it, he could have her fixed up and out of there before Gigi and Beau came in.
He flipped on the kitchen light and pointed to a chair. “Have a seat.”
Hard Sell: A Bad-Boy, Rock Star Romance Page 45
