He didn’t wait around to see if she listened. Once he’d gathered up some first-aid supplies, he returned.
“Take off the stockings.”
She nodded and he turned his back to wait. The rustle of her skirt was as loud as cannon fire. The whispery slide of silk, a twenty-one-gun salute.
“Done.”
He faced her again. “Just your knees?”
She nodded. “They got the brunt of it. My hands a little, but no blood.”
He set down his supplies on the granite island and popped a squat in front of her. Even in their current state, her legs were spectacular. Leanly muscled, long and sleek for such a petite woman, they were so elegant the streaks of dirt seemed like an insult.
He took a trim ankle in hand and forced himself to focus on the scrapes. “Hand me the washcloth.”
She did, their fingers brushing as he took it.
Ignoring the sizzle that snaked up his arm, he methodically began to clean her wounds.
“I really appreciate this. I know you’re busy and this is probably the last thing you want to be doing after a show.”
He could feel the weight of her gaze pressing on him but he refused to rise to the bait. She was abso-fucking-lutely right. Short of getting kicked in the balls, letting this woman twist him in knots again was just about the last thing he wanted to be doing. Why should he pretend otherwise?
She cleared her throat and made another attempt at small talk. “So when did you get started with the band? You guys are really fantastic.”
“They’ve been around a while. I joined last year.” He dabbed some antibiotic cream on the scrape and she gasped. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault. I was the idiot running in heels.”
Again, he stayed quiet. No point in encouraging more conversation. Instead he made a show of sitting back on his heels to examine his handiwork.
“Couple gauze pads and you’ll be good to go. I’ll give you some clothes so you don’t have to go home in these wet ones.”
He motioned to her skirt, which had ridden up high on her thighs, and sucked in a breath. Time to get some space. He handed her the bandage makings. “Why don’t you do that while I find you something to wear?”
He didn’t wait for an answer, hightailing it to the bedroom. He’d just started pawing around in his dresser for some clothes that might not fall right off her when muffled female voices interrupted his wayward thoughts.
Gigi was home. Damn it. This whole thing was getting more complicated by the minute. Leave it to Christa to bring a storm of shit with her when she came. Now he was going to have to play twenty questions. Hell, if he didn’t hurry, it might be fifty questions.
He let out a resigned sigh, grabbing a hoodie and a pair of gym pants. The women’s chatter echoed down the hall as he headed back to the kitchen.
“Hey, Gi.”
“Hey, yourself,” she said with a grin, eyeing them with frank curiosity. In the past year, he’d invited exactly one woman to the Man Bus before now and that had been his mom. Gigi was practically salivating at the opportunity to start the inquisition.
She gave him one more long, speculative look, then patted the countertop, stepping back.
“Well, it was a real pleasure talking with you, Christa. I hope your knees heal up nicely.”
“Likewise. And thanks.”
Christa smiled in return, a genuine smile that lit her whole face up. He was captured. His gaze snagged hers and the warmth in her eyes changed to heat. Feminine awareness. Flat-out desire. His cock bucked hard beneath his jeans. As bad as it had ended, there was no denying that one thing between them had been so fucking good.
“Here,” he scraped out past his suddenly bone-dry throat, thrusting the clothes at her and stepping back as if she were contagious.
He turned, realizing that sometime, in that heated moment, Gigi had left the room and he hadn’t even noticed.
“Tai, I—”
“The bathroom’s at the end of the hall,” he cut in.
Her face fell as she took the bundle her offered. “Thanks.”
A moment later the door clicked shut behind her and he pinched his eyes closed. Unasked questions throbbed in his throat.
Why now?
Where the fuck were you when I needed you?
If he didn’t get her out of here fast, they’d surely choke him.
He’d finally managed to get the raging hard-on, if not the raging emotions, under control when she stepped out of the bathroom. One look at her and he bit back a groan.
Her hair had almost completely dried and hung around her face in soft, loose curls. His sweatshirt swamped her, coming down to her knees. She’d washed any remnants of makeup from her face and her cheeks were scrubbed pink. She was as adorable as she had been all those years ago.
He tore his gaze away, reminding himself, yet again, that looks were deceiving. She was his spiritual assassin and he would do well to remember it.
“What a relief. I feel human again,” she said, giving him a tentative smile.
“Great.” He kept his tone clipped and his eyes on the wall over her shoulder. “Well, I’ve got to get an early start tomorrow. It was…good seeing you.”
He herded her like a border collie with a lamb toward the door. “There’s a cab stand right in front of the venue, so you won’t have a problem getting back to the hotel. And don’t worry about the clothes, no need to return them.” He injected a note of finality into his voice. “Goodbye, Christa.”
She may not have gotten the closure she had hoped for, but he wanted to make one thing very clear. Their association was over.
She turned, leveling him with eyes so blue they’d made a summer sky look dreary.
“Thanks for taking care of me. You were always so good at that. I’m sorry I wasn’t as good at taking care of you. But just so you know,” her lips trembled and her voice grew thick. “I never stopped loving you, Tai.” She rushed down the steps and stood by the door. “Goodbye.”
His stomach clenched as he stood staring after her, a riot of emotions threatening to suck him under. Her “goodbye” had sounded almost as final as his. Yes, he’d almost certainly seen the last of Christa Reilly.
He stood, staring at the closed door for a long while, waiting for a sense of relief that never came. Fighting the urge to look out the window to see if she was still out there, he made his way to the kitchen.
“So that’s the one, huh?”
Tai swallowed a sigh and opened the fridge, more to buy himself a few seconds before he had to face Gigi than because he was hungry. He peered in and snagged an apple.
“The one what?” he asked wearily as he closed the door.
“The girl who tore your heart out whole, and you wished she’d broken it because then you’d still have a piece left. I saw you looking at her during the show. Then I watched her through the window when she left here. Crying,” Gigi said, her dark eyes wide with concern.
The year before, when she and Beau had first gotten together and were having some problems, he’d told her about Christa. Not everything, but a little, just to give her some perspective in hopes of getting her and Beau back together. He’d never dreamed the two women would ever meet, or that he’d live to regret mentioning it.
“Wow, you remembered what I said about her. Verbatim, no less. Damn, you have a good memory.” He sat down on the kitchen stool across from her and leaned on the granite island between them.
She nodded. “Total recall. Beau hates it. Especially when we argue.”
“Which isn’t often, from what I can tell. In fact, judging by all the noise coming through the walls, you guys are getting along like gangbusters.” He attempted a smile, but she wasn’t falling for it.
“Don’t bother trying to change the subject. I’m like a bloodhound, and you’re my prey. Spill,” she demanded, then plopped down on the couch, staring up at him expectantly.
This was exactly what he’d hoped to avoid. “Doesn’t Beau need you to
, I don’t know, carry his fiddle or massage his ego or something?”
“Nope. The last thing that man needs is an ego massage,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Besides, he, Rex and Quinn were going to hang out at the club to sign some autographs. I didn’t want to be in the way.”
His brows rose pointedly.
“Oh nice,” she said with an indignant snort. “The only thing I’m in the way of here is your denial. Obviously you still have feelings for that woman or you wouldn’t look like you’ve just been sucker punched.”
One thing was for sure. She wasn’t going to leave him alone until he caved. Still, he hesitated. It was something he’d spent the better part of the last ten years struggling to forget.
Gigi crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Have it your way. Hold it all inside so it keeps festering. But I’m not cooking for you until you tell me.”
Ouch. She was pulling out the big guns now. A year earlier, when Quinn was pregnant, she’d hired Gigi to be the band’s personal chef so she could eat healthy on the road. They’d all gotten used to it and decided to keep her on—Beau in more ways than one. He and Gigi were getting married in a few months. Needless to say, it would suck living on a bus with her, smelling all those delicious dinners every night and not be able to have any.
Besides, the past was the past, and what better way to prove he didn’t give a rat’s ass about Christa anymore than to excise this old wound? He settled on the Reader’s Digest version, making sure he kept his voice low and even.
“We were close friends in high school. One night, we were even more than that. She was dating this guy, Pierce Ridell. Real asshole. Anyway, we ended up in a fight over her. He was rich, white and lost the fight. I wasn’t, and didn’t. One of us ended up in jail.”
“Wait, you went to jail for a high-school brawl?” Her brow furrowed and she shook her head. “That seems a little excessive, don’t you think? There used to be a fight every week at my school. No one got arrested for it.”
“Yeah, well, this wasn’t during school hours and the judge didn’t view it as a fight. I was charged with assault. With a deadly weapon. I was convicted, and the two of them got back together. She never came to see me, never sent a letter. Nada.”
He avoided her penetrating gaze and crunched a big bite from his apple. His churning stomach bucked in protest as he swallowed. It was a long time before Gigi spoke again.
“I’m turning it over every which way, and there’s got to be more to the story. Was it self-defense? I know you, Tai. You wouldn’t just attack someone unprovoked. You’re so disciplined. I just can’t see it. And with a weapon, no less?”
Her confidence in his honor humbled him. She was such a good person. If he’d been smart enough to fall for a woman even half as good as Gigi, the whole tragic incident could’ve been avoided. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d given his heart to Christa and spent the rest of his life regretting it.
Reaching for Gigi, he squeezed her hand. “Give me a couple of days to get my bearings. Then we’ll talk about it.”
“Tai?”
“We will, I promise. Just me and you. I’ll tell you the whole story, okay? We’ll go out to Barney’s when we get to Memphis and get some of those ribs you love.”
“Hold up there, bass-man. Why you making dates with my girl?” Beau drawled as he strode into the room.
Awesome. Just what he needed to round out the day. It was about to become a literal pity party.
“Sorry, pal. The lady already agreed to go out with me, right, Gigi?” Unshed tears made her eyes shiny as she nodded.
“Hey, you okay?” Beau murmured as he got closer. “Not really,” she croaked.
Oh Jesus, not the waterworks.
“Come on, Gi. It’s all right. I’m good. It was a long time ago.”
“I’m s-s-so s-s-sorry you had to go through that. I can’t believe I felt sorry for her for a minute. Bitch.” She plucked a tissue from the coffee table and blew her nose so hard, it honked.
“What the hell is going on with you?” Beau asked as he hauled Gigi into his arms. “And what did you do to my fiancée?”
“It’s okay,” she mumbled into his chest. “Tai didn’t make me cry. Well, he did, but not on purpose,” she amended quickly, then sucked in a shuddering breath.
“Someone better start explaining why one of you is crying and the other looks like someone stole your motorcycle or something.”
“Tai’s ex-girlfriend came to the show tonight. She was here when I came in.”
“She’s not really an ex-girlfriend. She was a friend. You know, the ‘super secret’ kind, where you only hang out when no one else is around to witness it? Believe me, I wouldn’t have been considered boyfriend material in the Reilly household.”
The bitterness he’d tried so hard to mask came through crystal clear in his tone and he cringed.
He bit off another chunk of apple then lobbed the rest into the garbage can where it landed with a thunk.
“Good for two,” Beau said, offering up his fist for a bump.
Tai obliged him and stood. “I hate to break up this party, but Gigi can fill you in on the rest if you’re interested. I’m beat and I want to get a run in tomorrow early before it starts to rain again.”
He’d made it halfway down the hall before Gigi’s voice stopped him. “You might be able to put me off for a while, but what are you going to do about her?”
“There’s nothing to do. She wanted to get something off her chest, get some sort of closure or something, and she got it.”
Maybe not the way she’d hoped, but he’d definitely closed that shit down, quick.
“Yeah, we won’t be seeing Christa Reilly again.”
Chapter 3
Christa rifled through her suitcase with shaking hands. Her life was now in total shambles, her future about as clear as coffee, but she knew one thing for certain. She was definitely going to see Tai again. And soon, if she had any say in the matter.
She thought back to the night before and wanted to scream. With joy at having seen him again, with pain at the fury in his eyes, with grief at the sadness. No matter that she hadn’t slept a wink, or that her whole body ached from the fall. She felt alive again, in a way she hadn’t felt in ten years. Since Tai.
She bypassed the neatly folded garment bags filled with crisp suits, instead pulling out a soft, peach sweater and laying it on the bed. There was no need to dress up now that she’d taken a leave of absence from her position as Marketing VP.
She winced, wondering if her father had heard the news from one of his cronies yet. Apparently not, because he would have called to ream her out by now. He was going to flip.
She poked around for some sadness and found none. She’d never loved the job anyway, and had been biding her time, taking myriad classes at night to try to discover her true passion. With enough money socked away from investments and her stock in Reillytech, there was no need for her to work there. She’d done it to please the family and fill her days.
Now that she’d finally found Tai, she wouldn’t be able to focus on anything until they had a chance to really talk. She’d also realized some time ago that there was no pleasing her family, short of letting them live her life for her. She needed to cut the cord and there was no time like the present. Ideally, this leave of absence would roll seamlessly into a resignation.
Her cell phone buzzed and she plucked it from the bedside table, heart pounding as the familiar number lit up the screen.
“Hey, Mitch, what did you find out?”
“I’m doing well, and you?” he drawled, sarcasm thick in his tone.
“Sorry. I’m just a little frazzled. How are you?” Christa drummed her fingers against the phone, calling on her last vestiges of patience. Usually her college friend’s dry humor made her laugh, but today it made her want to shake him.
“Fine. And sorry, I can tell you’re not in the mood, so I’ll get right to it. Tai Sullivan, age twenty-seven. Changed his name t
o Tai Madsen about eight years ago, which was probably why we couldn’t find him the last time we looked. Madsen is his mother’s maiden name. Apparently, he changed it the year before last after being reunited with his maternal grandmother. They’re very close now, he flies out to see her at least three times a year to visit her and also pays her rent. His father, James Sullivan, is serving fifteen years in Cook County Jail for a laundry list of repeat offenses including battery and armed robbery.”
Christa slumped forward, clutching the phone tight in her suddenly sweat-slicked palm. “He was a real winner when we were young too. Sending Tai letters once every few months, making promises he never kept. I knew he was a deadbeat, but this…”
Her throat ached at the memory of Tai’s tough-guy front when his dad blew off yet another milestone event. No wonder he changed his name. That explained so much. And the love of his grandmother convinced him to change it back. That was Tai, always leading with his heart.
She swallowed a sob.
“What else? Tell me what else.”
“Well, with the new info on the names, we’ve managed to fill in a lot of holes but there’s still a big blank stretch between the ages of seventeen and nineteen. It’s like he was just totally off the grid those two years. I spoke to a buddy of mine and his records are still sealed. We’ll have to grease some palms but he’s going to poke around and see what he can come up with as far as where he was and where he might have went after juvie.”
Father had told her that Tai would do six months max, especially considering the statement she’d given. A slap on the wrist and a stay at juvie for a first-time offender.
The six months had come and gone, and he’d never come back to town. She’d been looking for him ever since, with no luck.
The shuffle of papers echoed over the line. “Put himself through music school,” Mitch continued. “Then went on to become a studio bass player, sitting in with some pretty big names. Last year he signed up with Hank Lemon and the Law. Never married and no co-habs that I can see, except his mom. Looks like he just bought a house a few blocks from hers in Maryland. You know the rest.”
Hard Sell: A Bad-Boy, Rock Star Romance Page 46
