by Skye Jordan
“Then Wes would walk off the set like nobody, have drinks with friends, and go home to a sweet woman. No stalkers, no cameras in his windows, no interruptions when he tried to go out to dinner. Real people in his life. When that movie was over, I decided to drop acting and pick up stunts.
“In my own defense, since then, my only bad-boy tendencies have been related to riding motorcycles, playing with fire, and jumping from buildings.”
“And picking up women,” Lexi said.
Jax’s mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. “Which was something I was trying to change when you texted me at the airport.”
“That was what, then? Falling off the wagon?” She laughed, the sound soft but light. No jealousy darkened her face. Both refreshing and a little…unnerving. “Because you slept with me sight unseen.”
“I don’t remember much sleeping,” he said, loving the way her eyes darkened with memories. “And that was a huge feat for me. Looks have always been important. Too important. It was one of the things I was trying to get over. That and choosing women who walk all over me and treat me like shit—or so Wes likes to say.”
“Ah,” she said. “That explains his attitude when I talked to him. He thinks I’m another one of those women.”
“Not…exactly.” Jax grimaced. “And sorry about the attitude. I’ll straighten that right out when I talk to him. He’s a good guy. Trying to look out for me, but I’m not exactly—”
“The perfect patient?”
“Something like that. He, uh…also set me up with the girl I was dating…”
“I see. It’s all becoming very clear.”
He tugged the strand of hair from his finger and touched her cheek. “I’ve also never been in love with a woman—other than you—and I’ve certainly never told another woman that I loved her. Ever.”
Her smile was so sweet it made his chest tighten. He leaned down and kissed her.
“You’re a good man, Jax,” she whispered against his lips before she opened and tasted him.
Love flowed through him, swift and hot, whipping up a fierce desire. He groaned into her mouth, slid his hand around her waist, and pulled her to him with his good arm.
She moaned but pulled away. “You’re just getting better. You should rest.”
“I’ll rest better after I’ve made you come two, three…six times.” He kissed her again as she laughed.
The abrasive tap of metal on glass cut into his bliss. Lexi pulled back with a frown. She turned her head toward the balcony.
The sound came again, louder. Tap-tap-tap. “The front door?” Jax asked, sitting up with Lexi as a wave of protectiveness swept through him. “Rubi?”
“She has a key.” Lexi stood and started toward the balcony. “And she knows you’re here. She wouldn’t bother us.”
“Have the photographers ever done this?” Jax asked. Stitches or not, if that was a reporter knocking on her door, the guy was going to lose more than his camera.
“What the…?” she said.
“Who is it?” he asked coming up behind her.
Lexi swung around and put both hands on his chest. She walked him backward, out of sight. “It’s Martina.”
From the way she said her name, Jax knew this Martina was important. “Who’s that?”
Tap-tap-tap, then a muffled, “Lexi? I need to talk to you.”
“Shit,” she muttered. “This cannot be good. Jax, please, please, stay up here. I’ll tell you about it when she’s gone.” She must have read the frustration in his face, because she said again, “Please.”
Stay up here hidden from anyone who mattered to her career.
But he rubbed her arms and said, “Fine.”
Lexi’s beautiful face filled with dread, but she straightened her shoulders, and went to unlock the front door clad in bare feet, shorts, and T-shirt. He loved that she didn’t rush to change for whoever this was.
Jax pulled on his jeans and sat on the corner of the bed, forearms on thighs. He could just see over the edge of the balcony as Lexi unlocked the front door.
“What are you doing in Los Angeles?” were Lexi’s first words to the other woman. Martina. “And why are you here? Why didn’t you call?”
Martina didn’t smile, didn’t greet Lexi, but she did say, “I’m sorry for not calling, but this was urgent, and I was nearby.”
Jax thought she might be a relative, only Martina was dark skinned, dark haired. She carried a purse and a manila envelope.
In Jax’s experience, manila envelopes were never good. Anything good was already out of the envelope. Things that stayed inside envelopes were time bombs. His chest tightened with apprehension.
Lexi was still locking the door when Martina said, “I was having dinner with colleagues. I just got into town for an event at the fashion center. I’m speaking for someone who couldn’t make it at the last minute.”
Lexi gazed out the glass door, searching up and down the street, before turning back to Martina. “Can I get you something? Water?”
“You can get her the hell out of your studio at nine o’clock on a Sunday-fucking-night,” Jax muttered to himself. Who the hell did that?
“No,” Martina said to the offer of water. “I’m here because someone had this delivered to my table at dinner.” She thrust the envelope toward Lexi.
“Oh shit,” Jax whispered, fisting his hands.
Lexi looked down at the envelope but kept her arms crossed. “What is it?”
“A photograph.” She thrust it forward again. “Look for yourself.”
Jax ran his hand through his hair and fisted it. His mind scoured his time with Lexi. When could someone have gotten a picture of them together?
Only about half a dozen times.
He held his breath while Lexi took the envelope, lifted the flap, and slid the photograph out. She stared at it for a long second when Jax couldn’t read her body language. Couldn’t catch enough of her face to see her expression.
When Lexi looked at Martina again, all she said was, “Who?”
“I don’t know, but I told you about this in New York, Lexi. I told you that some of these designers are cutthroat—”
“I know the designers involved in this competition.” Her voice was fierce. No one was going to push this woman around. And Jax was humbled by her inner strength. “None of them would stoop this low.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Lexi. I have no intention of sharing this with the board, but who knows whether this person has already sent it to them or not?”
Holy fuck. Jax’s stomach fell to his feet. This was the designer. The designer. The one who could make all Lexi’s dreams come true. Make all Lexi’s hard work pay off.
Lexi rubbed her forehead. “I can’t do anything about this. Especially not if I can’t confront the sender.” She threw her hands out to the sides in exasperation. “What do you want me to do, Martina?”
The break in Lexi’s voice turned him for the stairs.
“Stop seeing him.” Martina’s voice felt like a snap of cold electricity in Jax’s gut. “You know this is suicide to your career, Lexi. Why would you do this?”
“Because I love him.”
The words were barely out of her mouth when Jax stepped up beside them, startling them both. He put a hand on Lexi’s shoulder while Martina backed away three full steps, eyes wide with fear, hand at her chest.
“Jax.” Lexi turned into him with a hand on his arm. “It’s okay, I can handle this.”
“Let me see it.” She opened her mouth to argue. “Let me…see it.”
Lexi handed him the envelope and lowered her gaze, but he saw the shame in her eyes.
Martina eyed Jax, standing there in nothing but blue jeans, with a dark glint of suspicion. He didn’t care what the woman thought of him. He only cared how she could hurt Lexi. He kept a hard gaze on her until he’d pulled the photo from the envelope and lowered his eyes to it.
The image must have been taken last night. In the dark. It was grain
y, but he could clearly see the image of him and Lexi pressed up against the alcove’s sandstone wall, his tongue down her throat, hips between her legs, hands pulling up her dress.
“Fuck.” He bit it out fiercely, jerking the photo down to his side and startling both Lexi and Martina.
“It’s okay—” Lexi started.
“It’s not okay.” He turned his gaze on Martina. “I’ll find out who did this and get it from them within twelve hours.”
Martina shook her head. “It’s too late for damage control. Whoever took this photograph has more. They won’t stop taking them. And you can bet they didn’t keep their mouth shut about you two either.”
Lexi’s gaze jumped to Jax’s. He saw the realization in her eyes. Then panic. And finally…resignation. The kind of resignation that signaled defeat. And the loss of dreams.
Lexi turned back to Martina.
Before she could speak, Jax said, “This won’t be a problem.”
“How can you be sure of that?” Martina asked, more rhetorically since they all knew he couldn’t be sure of anything.
“Because like I said, I will take care of whoever took this picture.”
“Jax.” Lexi put a hand on his arm, but he shook it off.
“And because we aren’t seeing each other anymore,” he said. “There won’t be any more opportunities for pictures.”
Lexi opened the door for Martina. She didn’t have anything to say to the woman, and even if she had, Jax had just knocked the wind out of her.
Martina looked over Lexi’s shoulder and up toward the loft where Jax had gone. “I think that’s a good decision. Listen to him, Lexi. This is your future. Don’t throw it away for one hot guy.”
Lexi said nothing. Because saying nothing was far kinder than anything else that would come out of her mouth now.
As soon as Martina stepped out of the shop, Lexi locked the door and turned toward the stairs. She barely kept herself from running and reached the landing just as Jax was starting for it.
She put her hands up and blocked his path. “This is not your fault, and you’re not leaving just because some idiot—”
“No.” He said, resolute. “Not just some idiot, Lexi. All idiots. And there are plenty out there.” He had pulled on the T-shirt Lexi had brought home from New York after wearing it back to her room after their first night together. His eyes were dark with guilt and shame and pain. “It won’t end, Lex. And I won’t be the reason everything you’ve worked for goes to shit. I don’t know how I ever thought…”
“Jax.” Lexi had never felt so desperate. It was completely illogical but so very real. She couldn’t lose him. “I don’t care. I don’t care about the competition. I don’t care about the partnership. I was already considering trashing the idea—”
“Make your decisions. Do what you’re going to do. But they won’t be based on whether or not I’m in your life, dragging you down.”
“You’re not—”
“I’m sorry, baby. I should have known better.”
He pushed past her.
She grabbed the back of his shirt, feeling like a psychotic stalker. “Jax, please…”
He stopped only to turn back and pull her in for a kiss. “I’m so sorry.”
He broke free of her grip and skipped down the stairs as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Lexi had to force herself not to plead with him, but she was desperate enough.
She turned toward the balcony and gripped the metal rail. “Jax, if you really loved me, you wouldn’t leave.”
He stopped with the front door halfway open.
Please don’t go.
He turned his head, looked up at her. “I’m leaving because I really love you, Lex.”
Twenty-Four
Six weeks to the day that Jax had walked out of her studio, Lexi sat at her drawing table, a pen in hand. She toggled it back and forth between her fingers. Dragged her lip between her teeth.
“Just write it already.” Rubi sat cross-legged on Lexi’s bed, surfing the Web. “I’m not staying here all night.”
Everything with Jax had been a risk. That was what Jax was all about—risk. Lexi was pretty good at taking risks. Calculated risks. But this wasn’t the least bit calculated.
Still undecided, Lexi penned his name on the envelope, each letter careful and deliberate.
Bentley Jaxon Chamberlin
He would find it ridiculously formal.
But Lexi wanted him to know that she knew every part of him, loved every part of him, wanted every part of him.
On the bottom of the invitation, she added a personal note. Had to fight herself from adding I miss you. I love you. And just signed her name.
She sighed and slid it into the envelope.
If he doesn’t respond, it wasn’t meant to be.
She licked the tip of the flap and pressed it closed.
If he doesn’t show, something better waits for me.
She turned it over and ran her fingers over his name.
“Tick-tock, tick-tock,” Rubi said, pushing to her feet and sliding into rhinestoned flip-flops. “I’m tired. I want to go slide into a bathtub.”
Lexi glanced over her shoulder. “Did you find him?”
“Yep. He snagged that Bond job back and he and his crew have been playing on the Sixth Street Bridge.” She walked up to her drawing table, met Lexi’s gaze, and held out her hand. “Now or never.”
Lexi pulled the inside of her cheek between her teeth and offered the invitation to Rubi.
When she started to close her fingers, Lexi pulled it back. “Just…don’t…say anything. Just give it to him and walk away.”
“Sure, hon, that’s going to happen.”
Rubi grabbed for the envelope. Lexi pulled it back again.
“And…if he’s with a woman…absolutely don’t give it to him.”
Rubi’s lids lowered in warning. “Lexi. Let go.”
Lexi closed her eyes and forced herself to let go of control. Rubi snatched the invitation, kissed her cheek, and her flip-flops tick-tick-ticked down the stairs to the front door.
“Rubi,” Lexi called. When her friend turned and faced Lexi, she said, “Thank you.”
As soon as Rubi closed and locked the door behind her, Lexi turned to her sewing machine and the yards of butter-like crimson leather she’d bought at the London Fabric Expo.
Twenty-Five
Jax swung his legs over the steel beam running beneath the Sixth Street Viaduct and seated the bend of his knees solidly over the metal.
Then let go.
He swung upside down over the concrete running alongside the trench that guided the Los Angeles River through the city.
He clapped his gloved hands. “Let’s finish this.”
Troy, the Renegades’ rigging master, tossed him the first cable. “Start with the third hole and thread them backward.”
Jax did as directed. Sweat dripped from his chest to his neck. Neck to cheeks. Then slid into his eyes.
“Goddamn.” He used his forearms to wipe it away.
“Welcome to my world, bro.”
“So fucking complicated…” He caught the next cable, threaded it. Wiped at sweat. “Can’t just make…” He caught the last cable, threaded it. “A simple jump anymore.”
Another cable came at him. A fourth cable, for which there was no use. Jax turned his head and caught the carabiner attached to the end just before it cracked his jaw.
“What the fuck?” he sputtered, hand in front of his face in case Troy decided to throw another. “Troy!”
“Oh yeah.” He pulled his gaze up from the concrete below, where the rest of their team worked. “Sorry, boss. Little distraction.”
“I’ll distract you, dumbshit,” he muttered. “You don’t get distracted thirty feet above concrete.”
“Dude, relax. Look down there. That’s some good mood walking, right there. If that don’t perk you up, you need medical help.”
Jax reached toward his feet, gra
bbed the beam, and pulled his legs out. He relaxed into the safety harness and wiped more sweat from his face. Then opened his eyes to a red Ferrari parked one hundred feet below.
His heart skipped, then sped. His gaze scanned the scene, searching for Lexi. Rubi sauntered toward the men, but his gaze held on the Ferrari, willing Lexi to step out. His banked hunger broke through and started gnawing at his raw gut. What he’d give for the mere sight of her.
“Mmm-mmm,” Troy said. “That is some sweet stuff.”
“I’m going on belay,” Jax said, taking the safety rope from Troy and switching the rigging around so he’d be secure up there alone. “I’m going down.”
“Dude, we’ve got six more pulleys—”
Jax shot Troy a look. “I’m going down.”
“Fine, fine. You’re the one who’s going to have to climb back up here.”
Jax loosened his anchor and started toward the ground. The slide lasted only seconds but felt like it took forever. His mind darted a hundred different places, but fear took the lead. He hit the ground, unhooked the safety harness, and jogged toward Rubi.
Lexi’s okay. Lexi’s okay.
As he approached Rubi, she turned. As soon as he saw her smile, all the fear drained out of him. The relief was so complete, he staggered backward a few steps before he caught himself. He braced his hands on his knees and stared at the cement until his head stopped spinning.
“Dude.” Wes’s boots came into view. “You okay?”
Jax nodded, unable to speak.
Fuck. That had hit him out of nowhere.
He’d been repressing everything so completely—how much he missed her, how empty he felt without her, how she was better off without him—it lashed back on him now like a whip.
He finally looked up and met Rubi’s frown but was still breathing hard when he asked, “Is…Lexi…okay?”
Rubi studied him with intense blue-green eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and humor. She wore skintight blue jeans that showed the perfect shape of her highway-long legs, heels that made those legs look even longer, and a halter top that showed both her flat belly and her cleavage.
Jax’s guys were tripping over themselves to take in every inch of her.
