That had her mask slipping. She gaped angrily at him. "Talk about what? What is this? It's nothing, and you know it and I know it. Which is why I suddenly feel like s.e.x was a mistake. I liked us better when we were just friends."

That was a lie. What she liked was his company, falling for him. Those frozen moments where she looked at him and he was just a man and she was just a girl and it was possible for them to fall in love. To be together.

s.e.x had been a mistake. Because now she knew what it felt like to be that close to him, to have the taste of him on her tongue, his c.o.c.k buried deep inside.

And now she had the rest of her life to miss that.

After helping her back over the wall, Marco led Allison to his bedroom. There were knowing glances at their disheveled appearances, Allison's dirty shorts and gra.s.s-stained linen shirt. He glared at all the smirks, the snickers, flipping Aidan off when he gave them an actual thumbs-up with a grin. He couldn't explain what had gotten into him and why he had thought it made sense to have s.e.x with Allison on the slope behind his house, where, with a little creative leaning, anyone could have seen them.

Without a condom.

That made him hate himself. He didn't have alcohol to justify such a stupid and reckless move. There had been no reason to be so utterly and stupidly reckless. Allison said she had an IUD, but he knew nothing about them and didn't exactly even know what that meant. Not to mention that while he'd gotten a clean bill of health from his doctor six months earlier and he'd been celibate, it wasn't fair to worry her. He couldn't explain his behavior other than he'd been filled with a base urge to take her, to claim her. To not let her go back to New York.

All he'd done was freak her the f.u.c.k out. He couldn't blame her.

She was right. His actions had damaged their friendship, which in such a short time had become important to him.

After she went into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her, he stood there for a second, then decided the h.e.l.l with it. He couldn't make it any worse. He opened the door and found her in the middle of pulling her shorts down.

"Do you mind?" she snapped. "I'd like to pee by myself."

"I just wanted to say that I want to still be friends. I want to stay in touch."

One eyebrow arched. She paused with her shorts and panties around her hips, the top of her s.e.x just starting to peek out. It made his mouth water. She still looked like she'd been tumbled in the gra.s.s, her hair sticking out a little in various places, her clothes rumpled and dirty. Her lipstick was gone.

"What does that even mean, Marco? Like we find each other on social media? Oh, wait, you have a million followers already."

He didn't know how to be specific. Frustrated, he squeezed his hands into fists. "Stay here," he repeated. G.o.d, why did he just say that? For the guy who wrote lyrics, he couldn't find the words. Any words.

She made a sound of exasperation and shoved her shorts down to her calves and sat down on the toilet. "I already said no. I'm not going to be your beck and call girl. And yes, I meant that as a double entendre."

If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have stood his ground, forced a conversation. But this was Allison and he couldn't leave it like this. "You know that's not what I'm asking of you. This isn't about me having you at my convenience."

"Can you just give me a minute?" she asked. "Your come is running down my leg. I'd like to use the toilet then shower, and then we can talk about how you won't take me at your convenience."

Her voice was cold and he felt like a d.i.c.k.

He had lured her away from the party she'd been enjoying, then nailed her without a condom on a hill. His nostrils flared. Maybe he hadn't changed one d.a.m.n bit in the last year.

So he just turned on his heel and left, pulling the door shut behind him.

He rejoined the people milling around his pool, hoping to distract himself. He wanted a vodka tonic so bad his throat felt tight and his hand trembled. But he wasn't going to cave. He hadn't been sober for a year to blow it all now. To give in and be the man he had never wanted to be. The man who had drunken s.e.x with his buddy's wife. But he wasn't sure what kind of man he did want to be.

What he did know was the idea of being in a relationship with Allison was tantalizing and very tempting. He could see why she would be reluctant, but that didn't make him want it any less.

Sitting down on a lounge chair next to Rick, he glanced over at the subst.i.tute drummer after they exchanged greetings. "How do you do it?" he asked him. "Bounce from gig to gig, never knowing where you'll be from one week to the next? Doesn't living on the road like that get exhausting? I admire you, man."

"It's because I have my wife and kids to come home to." Rick sipped his drink, looking comfortable in the chair. His ankles were crossed, displaying beat-up but very expensive Italian snakeskin boots. "It keeps me grounded. I know having a family isn't for everyone, but I dig it." He pulled his phone out and scrolled through. He held it up and showed Marco a picture.

It was Rick with a beautiful blonde, who wasn't wearing makeup. They were leaning against each other and each was holding a little blond kid. They looked very happy. "Nice picture. Twins?"

"Yep. Not sure how that happened, but there you have it. Bam. One and done." Rick held his hand up and made a scissor motion. "Thirty-three and I've already gotten the snip. We don't want any accidents."

"That's smart." Marco stared at the lights in his pool and felt melancholy and p.i.s.sed off.

"What about you, you want kids?"

"I don't know. But if I do, I want it to be planned, not because I was being careless." He thought about Allison inside the house, and winced.

"You're a good guy, Lucky. I bet you'd like the family gig now that you've left the party scene behind."

He would. He really thought he would.

"Someday." Determined to shake off his bad mood, he smiled. It was his mood that had had him tossing Allison over a wall. Though if he had used a condom, he was certain he wouldn't regret a d.a.m.n thing. "But for right now, this alb.u.m is my baby. I'm loving that bridge we did today."

It was easy to turn the conversation to work, music. Rick took the bait and they settled in to an easy discussion. It helped pa.s.s the time, but it didn't fully take Marco's mind off Allison in his bedroom. In his bed. Where he had been with her the night before. Was that really all it was going to be-one night?

One night was never enough.

Suddenly he held up his finger for Rick and said, "I need my guitar."

For the first time ever, he was going to write a song about a woman.

Allison lay on Marco's bed, annoyed. Why had she said she was going to bed? There was a c.o.c.ktail party going on and she was the lame-o house guest in bed. She wanted to get up and go back out there and show Marco that she was fine. Because she was fine.

"Ugh," she said to the empty room. Having showered the evidence of their hillside bang off, she was wearing pajama shorts and a tank top. Getting out of bed, she threw a T-shirt on over the tank and decided the h.e.l.l with it. She was already out of her element here, and who cared what she was wearing?

Apparently the brunette in the six-inch heels who gave Allison a disdainful once-over when she came out onto the patio from the doors in Marco's bedroom. Ignoring her, Allison went and found Aidan. "Have you seen Marco?"

She couldn't leave it alone. She felt like she needed to poke, to ask him what the h.e.l.l he wanted. It was stupid, pointless, yet she couldn't stop herself.

"You lost him already?" Aidan asked. "If things are going south with you two, I'm single right now."

Almost nothing could be less tempting. Aidan was good looking, which he knew. He was charming, which he knew. He was also a serial cheater, which everyone knew. Yet he had no problem finding a new girlfriend every few months. It was mind-boggling. Allison wanted to have more dignity than that. She wanted to be more realistic. Which was why she was going back to New York after only one night with Marco.

"Thanks for the offer, Aidan, but I'm not in the market right now. I'm considering the possibility of joining the Revirginization Club and seeing how that works out for me."

"Does Marco know about that? Because I'm guessing that is not a club he wants you to join. And I know he ain't joining it."

That went to show how little his bandmates really knew him. Allison didn't doubt that Marco had stayed celibate and sober for the last year. "Once I find him, I'll ask."

"He's downstairs, writing. I heard him testing out some lyrics. My brother needs to chill sometimes, you know? He hasn't been Mr. Social lately."

"Yeah. I know." Marco did need to relax. She couldn't argue with that. Her anger was deflating, which annoyed her. She wanted to stay angry with him so she could flounce back to New York and not care that she was leaving him behind. Instead, she suddenly wanted nothing more than to grab him by the hair and drag him to bed so they could spend the night wrapped up in each other. Just one night.

When she made her way downstairs to his studio, she heard him playing before she saw him. She couldn't make out the words, but she did hear that it was no love ballad. Not that Marco was known for those. It was an angry rock anthem. Coming around the corner, she saw his back was to her. He was plugged in to the amp and he was really laying it all out there. This was not a sweet acoustic session. He was ripping his guitar.

There was no way to understand his words, since he didn't seem to have any mic turned on and the guitar drowned him out. For a minute she just leaned on the wall and listened. It was powerful to hear him solo. Without a huge stage or producers doing whatever they did to make music sound so processed. It was raw and intimate.

It was everything she had come to learn about Marco.

Finally, when his guitar stilled, the last notes ringing out with a bit of reverberation, she walked across the room and moved in front of him. Marco looked up at her. "Hey," she said.

"Hey." He set the guitar into its stand and leaned over to turn the amp off. "I thought you were in bed."

"I can't sleep." She sat down next to him on a stool that matched his. "Look, I'm not trying to be a brat. I'm honestly trying to leave my brat days behind me. So do you understand why I have to leave?"

He ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. I don't like it, but I do get it." He gave her a soft smile. "And I like you even more because of it."

Not sure what to say, or how to bridge the gap that had grown between them, Allison touched his knee. "Do you ever talk to your mom?"

"My mom?" he asked in surprise. "No. She can't change, and I got tired of waiting for a miracle. I haven't seen her in ten years."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't feel sorry for me. I don't like that any more than you do."

He was right on that count, so she couldn't really argue. She just hated the idea of leaving him alone. "If I had my own money it would be different. If I had the lottery money, maybe..."

"I could find you a job. Then you would have money."

"But you would always have more. I would always be indebted to you. And I couldn't travel with you. I'd be tied to LA, to a city I don't know, with no friends, while you do your thing."

"I know." Marco reached for her, took her hand, and threaded his fingers through hers. "And I'm sorry for before, for not being safe. I don't want to hurt you. That's the last thing I want to do."

Allison felt the burn of tears again behind her eyes. This was hopeless and it was d.a.m.n sad. He was the first guy she'd felt... anything with in forever, and it was doomed. They couldn't even go beyond the beginning. There was no middle, and here they were, already at the end. "I know."

"Can I sleep next to you tonight? I don't mean s.e.x. I just want to hold you." His voice was rough, raw.

There was no way she could say no to that. It might kill her tomorrow, but she needed that tonight. "Yes."

He kissed her hand. "Thank you. For everything."

"Yeah, you too." Her vision blurred. They were already saying goodbye. "Come to bed with me, Marco."

"I don't want to walk through that crowd of people. I'm just going to lock the door to the bas.e.m.e.nt and we can sleep on the couch. It pulls out."

"We don't need to pull it out. I want you close to me." She didn't even care how needy that sounded.

She sat there on the stool, feeling emotions she didn't want to feel. Emotions she had sworn she wouldn't. Where was her old friend, snark, when she needed her? Nowhere to be found. Marco came back and he took her hand, pulled her off the stool. He hugged her in a way she didn't think she'd ever been hugged. It was firm, solid, intense. Like he didn't want to let her go.

"We'll always have the Empire State Building," she said.

He gave a soft laugh. "Yes, we will. And I'll never look at my pool deck the same way ever again."

"Why are we so ridiculously morose?" she asked, even as she wrapped her arms tighter around his middle, pressing her body against his everywhere she could.

"Because we're friends and we're not going to see each other for a while," he murmured into her hair, before kissing her temple.

"Yeah," she said, knowing most likely they would never see each other again. It was safer that way, for both of them.

"I have to tell you why I stopped drinking."

She stiffened a little. "Why?"

"Because after a show in Austin I woke up in bed with Robert's wife. I have never felt more horrible in my entire life, and every time I look at him I am disgusted all over again. He's my friend, my bandmate, and I had s.e.x with his wife and I don't even remember it. I quit the booze cold turkey that day. I felt like s.h.i.t physically for three days, then I felt great, better than I'd felt in years. But inside? I'm still a little f.u.c.ked up."

Allison could hear the pain in his voice. She squeezed him harder and pulled back so she could look up at him. "I'm sorry. That can't be easy to live with. But at least you attacked the problem head-on."

She didn't know that Marco and, frankly, she didn't want to know him. It served as another reminder of how easy it was to lose yourself in the world of fame and money. It could take a good man and twist him into something else entirely. But clearly the incident had been the ice bucket of water he had needed to turn his life back around, and she respected that. She hoped she was woman enough to do the same with her botched lottery win/loss.

"What I do now can't ever change what I've done, and I'm always going to hate myself for it."

"Maybe you need to forgive yourself."

Marco studied her, brushing her hair off her face. "And maybe you need to do the same thing."

She wanted to argue, to say that she wasn't beating herself up, but she knew it wasn't true. She had been for years. Maybe that was what meeting Marco had been all about-he was a mirror for her to see herself better and move forward.

And maybe she was morphing into Jamie. What the f.u.c.k? It was like all her thoughts were being hijacked. She didn't like feeling so introspective.

"Maybe we need to have a little less conversation right now."

His nostrils flared. "Maybe we do."

Marco slid his arm under her a.s.s and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her using only one arm. The man clearly hit the gym, and that was hot. She was already peeling her T-shirt off as he dropped her down onto the sofa. There was no bothering to pull it out into a bed. Marco just filled the s.p.a.ce over top of her, and took his time exploring her body with his tongue, his hands. Allison listened to the rush of her own urgent breathing, and stared down at Marco's head as he laved his tongue over her c.l.i.t. This was the last time. Truly the last time.

She had to leave. But right now, she had to release the tension he was creating inside her tight body.

When her o.r.g.a.s.m swept over her, she made no sound, just gripped his hair tightly, threw back her own head, and let the ecstasy consume her. Then he was inside her, lifting her foot onto his shoulder so that even on the couch, he could get a deep, full penetration.

They locked eyes and never let go.

Marco held her all night, and in the morning, he dropped her off at the airport himself in his sports car. She didn't know what kind of car, because she never paid attention to anything automotive, but he didn't pull away after he hugged and kissed her. He stood there, in the departures lane, ignoring the honks and noise, as she walked into the airport. When she glanced back through the gla.s.s doors, he was still there, watching. She couldn't see his eyes behind his sungla.s.ses.

It would be easier to walk away from him if she were angry. If she could yell and scream and fling expletives and self-righteousness at him. If she hated him.

But she didn't.

She'd fallen in love with him.

Allison waved. He lifted his hand and waved back.

Then she went back to New York, basically shattered.

Marco lasted two whole weeks before he called Allison. He said he was going to leave her alone, let her do her own thing. But every day he thought about her, and every time he was tempted to text her. He wrote in the studio, he socialized, he acted the part he was supposed to, but Allison was never far from his thoughts and he had come to the startling realization that he had gone and fallen in love with her. The one woman he couldn't actually had. That was a cruel irony.

He resisted calling until he figured enough time had pa.s.sed that he had a legitimate excuse to contact her. He'd been in the studio all day and was taking a break. Given it was six his time, he figured he would definitely be able to catch her between work and bed-that is, if she had a new job yet.