Again.

I pull my hand out of my pants and roll over, closing my eyes, letting the music surround me as I get lost in the raging beat.

I think one last conscious thought before I slip away into the oblivion of sleep.

Fuck you, Emma.

Days pass at the gym and I slip into a routine, one day running into the next as I try to serve out my fucking sentence and get the hell out of this place.

Each day, I stay a respectable distance from Jacey. I'm civil, but not friendly. I'm detached, but I still watch her from a distance. I never acknowledge what happened in the cooler... our conversation or the intimate way I'd touched her... and the way she'd let me.

She fascinates the hell out of me because I can't help but want to figure her out. She's contradictory, and something about that pulls me to her. But I can't let her know that.

She seems hurt at first when I ignore her, but then she cools toward me. She makes a point of not looking at me, and whenever she can help it she avoids being in the same room with me. That's the way it ought to be.

Today, I head toward Joe's office and stop outside the door when I hear him on the phone.

"Yeah, I know what I owe. It's my accountant's fault. He told me what to pay and I paid it. I don't do my own taxes. What kind of fool does that?" There's a pause and a sigh. "Yeah, I understand. One way or the other, you'll have it by the first."

The phone slams onto his desk and I'm still for a moment.

No wonder Joe has been crabby lately. He's having tax trouble. I file that away in my head and round the corner, entering his office like I didn't just hear his conversation.

"What?" he demands, swirling in his chair to stare at me.

"I just needed to get the clipboard for the weights," I tell him, grabbing it from its hook and heading toward the door.

"Kinkaide!" he barks and I pause. "You going back to California over the weekend?" he demands.

I nod. "Just for the weekend. My lawyers finally got it arranged. I've got to get some filming in so the studio doesn't fire me."

"Not my problem," Joe answers. "Just make sure you're not late to work on Monday."

So much for being nice. I nod wordlessly and head back toward the locker-room scales.

Jacey looks up from where she's talking to a couple of the boys, Jake and Tig. It's the first time she's made eye contact with me in a couple of days, and even though at first her expression is cool, her brow furrows at she stares at me.

"You okay?" she asks. "You look pissed."

I nod.

"I'm fine," I answer, just as cool.

Jacey stares at me for a minute longer before she returns her attention to the boys, turning her body away from me.

As she moves, I can't help but notice her slender shoulders and her tight-ass top, stretched tautly across her tits. It's impossible not to notice, and Tig can't restrain himself. I notice him continually glancing down before he yanks his gaze back up to her face. His cheeks flush red, even though no one but me notices.

When Jacey walks away a few minutes later, I follow her.

"You might not want to wear that shit here," I mention to her. I know my tone isn't friendly, but I can't help it. She's being ridiculous dressing like that in a gym for troubled teen boys.

She raises an eyebrow. "What shit?"

I motion toward her with my hand. "Tight tops, short shorts. Look around you and remember where you're at. You're surrounded by teenage boys who get a hard-on in a stiff breeze. Surely you don't need attention so badly that you need to use these kids to get it."

Heat flares into her cheeks and they turn bright red as she glares at me.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she demands. "You're so hot and cold. You haven't bothered to talk to me for days, and now, even though I haven't done shit to you, you don't hesitate to snap my head off for no reason. Why the hell do you care what I wear?"

I feel a small twinge of guilt. She's right. It's not my business. But somewhere, in a deep down place that I don't want to acknowledge, I hate the fact that these kids are ogling her. I know what they're doing in their beds at night while they're thinking about her.

I hate that thought. I hate that in my head, she's mine to play with, mine to discard, mine to balance in the palm of my hand... just like I did in the cooler last week. In my head, she's an option... an option I can choose at any moment, but an option I'd be smart to ignore.

"Well?" Jacey stares at me. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," I shrug. "I just don't want any of them to say something inappropriate to you and then get into trouble. You're inviting the wrong kind of attention, Jacey. It's not fair to them."

She narrows her eyes. "Oh, it's all about them for you now, right? I can tell that by the way you never talk to any of them. You think they're beneath you-just like your view on the rest of the world. You need to get over yourself."

She stomps off and I stare at her tight ass as she does.

"She's got a temper," Jake observes from where he's changing his shirt nearby. "I like it."

I stare at him, a hard and level gaze. "Don't even think about it. You're jailbait for her."

The kid rolls his eyes. "You've gotta lighten up, man. I was just making an observation. Jacey's badass."

He grabs his bag and ducks out of the room, and I notice something. Jacey's cell phone is lying on the bench where she was sitting as she was talking to Jake. I know it's hers by the pink flowered case.

I walk over and grab it, sliding it into my pocket. Something about it makes me smile. Pink flowers. Like her pink gun. Jake was right. Jacey's pretty badass. Yet she has a softer side. And she's all woman, sexy as hell.

She's a puzzle... and one I get more fascinated with every day. The more I think about it, the more I know what I have to do.

I just need to get to know her. If I give her a chance, she'll disappoint me, like everyone else. And then my fascination will be over and I can go about life as normal, as the jaded asshole that I am.

But a little while later, after I've finished weighing the rest of the boys and set off to find her, I discover that she's already gone.

"Her boyfriend already picked her up," Joe tells me when I ask. "You're outta luck."

Her boyfriend/surrogate brother. I roll my eyes and feel oddly disappointed.

"I have her phone," I explain to Joe. "She left it in the locker room. I don't suppose you have her address, do you? I know she lives in Calumet Heights somewhere. I could drop it by her house on my way home. I doubt she'll want to be without it."

"Yeah, I can get it for you. You should let her worry about it, in my opinion. Then she'd be more careful with her stuff. But if you want to..."

His voice trails off as he hunts for her file, then scribbles the address on a sticky note.

"Don't share that with the boys," he says needlessly.

As if I would. I nod and leave, and within a few minutes the nose of my car is turned in the direction of Calumet Heights.

It's time to exercise my option.

Chapter Eleven.

Dominic

I pull up in front of a tiny little house, encased on either side by identical tiny houses.

The handkerchief-sized front lawn is encircled by a short metal fence, and daffodils line the front sidewalk. There's a pair of beat-up running shoes beside the door, well used and dirty, and a black-an-white decorative sign is hanging next to the door topped with a pink bow.

No Soliciting! My soul doesn't need saving, I hate magazines, and I already have a vacuum (I just don't use it much). Unless you're selling Thin Mints, I'm not interested.

It makes me smile because it's so Jacey, blunt and to the point.

I rap on the door and she appears, her face in total shock at seeing me on her porch. She's dressed in her tiny Saffron outfit already, although I know there's no way she's been home for long.

"I don't have any Thin Mints, but I thought you might be interested anyway." I smile my most charming grin, but she stares back at me straight-faced, not cracking a smile.

"What do you need, Dominic?" She sighs. She doesn't even bother asking me how I got her address.

"I was in the neighborhood. And thought I'd bring you back your phone."

I slide it out of my pocket and offer it to her. She's clearly puzzled as she takes it, her fingers colliding with mine for a minute before she yanks them away.

"Thanks," she says uncertainly. "But this isn't in your neighborhood. Not by a long shot."

"Whatever," I answer casually. "I thought you might want it."

"I can't believe I left it," she admits. "It hardly ever leaves my side, because I can't afford to lose my stuff. Thank you for bringing it. I'm running late for work, or I would invite you in."

She looks at me pointedly now, and I glance at her up and down, at the sexy bustier that positions her tits just right, to her barely-there boy shorts, to the yellow bowtie. She stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to leave, but I don't.

It's been a long time since I do what I do next.

"Call in sick," I suggest. "I'm bored. Let's go do something."

As soon as the words are out, I regret them. I'm shocked by them. I want to rush to take them back, but I'm too collected for that. Instead, I want her to turn me down, yet at the same time, I'm eager for her answer.

Deep down, I want to spend more time with her.

Even though I don't want to want to.

She narrows her eyes again. "What about your girlfriend? I think she'd have something to say about us doing something together."

My girlfriend? I'm confused, but then I remember Kira. Jacey's seen me with her a couple of times... in fact, she thought Kira was Emma. I swallow hard.

"I don't have a girlfriend," I answer, although I don't offer an explanation about who Kira is to me. That's my business.

Jacey stares at me wordlessly, probably trying to decide if she believes me or not.

"Come on," I urge her. "Let's blow this place."

Jacey sighs. "Why should I? You're an asshole, Dominic. I never know what's going to set you off or when you're going to snap my head off. It's not a game I like playing. In case you haven't noticed, being around you isn't really a treat. I thought we were getting along, and then all of a sudden, you act like I don't exist. I don't get you. I really don't."

I feel guilty again, just a little, because I know she's right. I am an asshole. And most of the time, I don't care.

But there's hurt in her eyes, real hurt, and that's something I haven't seen in a while. Most people I'm around have thicker skin and they're almost as jaded as I am. Sometimes I forget that Hollywood is practically in a different dimension from the rest of the world... and those of us who live there are pretty much alien creatures.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "Sometimes, I'm an asshole without meaning to be. Sometimes, I do mean to be. It's true. But I'm sorry that I was an asshole to you. I could explain, but it would bore you. Let me make it up to you. Let's go do something fun and touristy. I promise to be nice."

She pauses and I smile, flashing her my trademark grin, the one that chicks eat up. It's not her fault that I'm an asshole. And even though she's all swagger and talk, I can see that she's easily wounded. She just hides it. Like the rest of us, she puts on a front.

She wears a mask.

With another grin, and before I can think the better of it, I decide to take that mask off of her. To see what lies behind it. To see if she's really as different as she seems to be.

It will be an experiment of sorts. I'm not getting sucked in, I'm not getting involved. It's just an experiment for scientific purposes... to see if there can possibly be one decent human being left in the world. And I'm guessing my dick is going to enjoy this experiment.

Jacey rolls her eyes at my expression.

"Don't even try it," she warns. "I can see through you. Don't try to charm me."

I grin again and I can see her give in.

"Fine," she sighs. "But only because I'm tired and I really don't want to work anyway. I was going in today to cover for someone else. I've been picking up too many extra shifts. It's wearing me out. I need a break."

That's not the reason though. I can see it on her face. She's as intrigued by me as I am by her. The difference is... she's not as good at hiding it or keeping her distance.

"Come in," she gestures. "I'll call and then change my clothes. Where do you want to go?"

I think for a minute, trying to decide on somewhere I can get lost, somewhere I won't stand out. "How about Navy Pier? We can find pretty much anything to do there. And we can get something to eat."

" 'K," she answers, showing me to her tiny but neat living room while she punches a number into her phone. "Make yourself comfortable."

As she talks to her boss, I look around. The space, like many Chicago houses and condos, is small. It's neat, though, and she's got it furnished with chic, eclectic furnishings. I'm guessing she saved up her paychecks for them because they're quality pieces.