The music worked itself into a sensual frenzy, and Colton’s hands roamed my back, bringing me closer. I looked briefly over to see Jazz and Joey dancing together, although not quite as close as Colt and I.

Jazz winked at me and I gave her a small smile back as Colt’s hand came up and sifted my hair, tilting my face up to his. Jazz towed Joey off the dance floor at Colt’s move. There was no way he’d stand around and watch his best friend kiss his sister, and I guessed Jazz knew that.

It didn’t seem like that thought had even occurred to Colt as he lowered his lips to mine. I took in his sandy brown hair and his kind blue eyes. And then I closed mine so I didn’t have to finish the thought ... It’s not Jack.

His lips were warm and firm and not unpleasant. They moved over mine gently. It was a curious feeling to be so detached from the sensation, to really be able to analyze it.

I felt his tongue coaxing me to open to him as he tilted my head further. I pulled away gently, not wanting it to seem like a rejection, more of a slowing down.

His eyes earnestly searched mine.

I wondered how much Joey had told him about Jack.

“I wish you’d tell me who this chump was who broke your heart so I can—”

A loud disturbance broke our attention and we turned just in time to see people gaping and pointing as a figure, storming across the room, managed to push the last person out of his path and come like a hurricane at Colt. For a moment I thought it was Joey, but the burgundy ball cap and the voice ...

“Get your fucking hands off her,” it snarled.

Oh God ... Jack.

T H I R T Y – T H R E E

All of a sudden a fist flew at Colt, landing square on the side of his face. His head snapped back at the blow, and he fell to the ground.

I was frozen and not even really processing, but within seconds Colt was hidden beneath not only his attacker, but also Joey and one of the suits who had been circling Jazz and me earlier. The suit, with his focused face barely containing his glee, looked like he had been waiting for just such a violent interlude all night. A burly security guard and a scared looking Vern were already on the scene.

The insistent noise and gasping of everyone around me finally broke through as Jazz grabbed my arm and grounded me. Whispered variations of “oh my God” and the name “Jack Eversea” ricocheted around my skull not finding purchase. My eyes were glued to Jack, as Joey and now the security guard, hauled him off Colt.

Jack’s strength broke him free of his handlers within seconds, although they managed to get him back in hand, his hat tumbling to the ground. His eyes swung wildly around and homed in on mine. I was pinned. I was vaguely aware of heads, and now smartphones swinging between us, but most of my attention was on Jack. Jack’s eyes, Jack’s absolute fury, Jack’s ticking jaw, Jack’s heaving chest. Just ... Jack.

Jack.

Jack. But where was Audrey? Why was he here? His eyes left mine and I looked around expecting Audrey’s haughty face to appear at any moment. Instead, I caught Jazz’s nonplussed expression and I followed her eyes in time to see Vern nodding tightly, and obviously against his better judgment, at something urgent Jack said to him. Vern turned and looked at me with undisguised curiosity.

Then Jack, in front of all the stunned onlookers, strode forward and grabbed my hand, jerking me forward. I stumbled slightly in my stilettos.

I swung my head at Jazz in time to see her restraining a fired-up Joey, who was about to come after me, and pointing to his best friend who was still lying on the ground. Oh no ... Colt. I hadn’t even checked he was okay.

Vern was leading us down a dark wood-paneled side hallway by the end of the bar and into a small dark room.

He turned on a lamp that washed the small office in low light before turning to me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, dumbly.

Then he brushed past me, pausing for a moment to hiss in my ear, “Tomorrow, you talk,” before leaving and closing the door firmly.

I was fine. I mean, I had just been kissed in a nightclub, had two guys fight over me, and now had the most famous and beautiful man on the planet drag me into a dark room. Oh, and I was in damn stilettos. I was totally fine. I would be on TMZ tomorrow, but I was fine.

Fine, fine, fine.

My focus shifted to Jack and the look on his face. I almost wanted to bring my arms up to protect myself against the physical onslaught his eyes were inflicting as they bored into mine. I settled for crossing my arms across my chest.

Oh, Jack. Jack. Jack.

I didn’t recognize my yearning self, and hated myself for it, but I wanted to throw myself across the three feet of air between us.

No wait, I was not doing this. I was not this person, this pathetic girl who would fall at his feet. He should never have continued seeing me. He should never have slept with me. And he’d been right, I did look back and regret it. He’d said it all along, and I had chosen to ignore his warnings. My God, I pitied myself in that moment. You stupid, stupid girl.

“Keri Ann.” Jack’s voice was a choked whisper, his face a mask of anguish that made me waver. But, there was something not quite right. I realized suddenly, as I should have right away, he was drunk.

As his body started toward mine, I threw up a hand, and it landed in the center of his chest. His heart pounded beneath my fingertips.

Jack stopped, a shutter closing down across his face.

“How dare you?” I whispered. Yes. I was proud of myself, because what I really wanted to do was throw myself into his arms and beg him to tell me it was all a nightmare, that he wasn’t leaving, that Audrey wasn’t pregnant, and that what we’d had was real.

Jack’s eyes got hard. “How dare I? What the fuck does that mean? I wasn’t the one letting some stranger stick his tongue down my throat.” He leaned in toward me, pushing against my hand, his beautiful Jack scent polluted by the sickly sweet smell of whiskey. “Who are you? Coz I sure as shit don’t recognize you. Is this how you spend your weekends, dressed like a hooker, picking up strange guys in bars? Was sweet, innocent, virginal Keri Ann some kind of—”

My hand connected hard against his face, the slap reverberating around the small room. I was shaking with fury.

To his credit, his head listed a bit to the side, but he didn’t grab his cheek. He just stopped and dropped his head, not meeting my eyes. Then, he slowly reached for my stinging hand and placed it back in the center of his chest where I’d had it seconds ago. He covered it with his own.

I swallowed, trying to ignore the feeling of my hand in his and the way he was pressing it so hard into his chest it was like he was trying to push it through to his heart. I hung onto my indignation by a thread. “Was that my appeal, then? The sweet virgin who would make you feel like a man?”

For a split-second, I debated lying and telling him he was right. That it was all an act he fell for. I could look on him with pity and pretend I didn’t care. But I wasn’t a liar. Jazz always said I sucked at it.

“God, no.” Jack said, his voice sounding strangely strangled. He raised his eyes to mine. “Sorry ... I’m so sorry.”

“What for, exactly? Or should I say, which part?”

“For it all.”

No. Not that. Please don’t be sorry for everything. Just the part where you forgot to tell me you may have impregnated your girlfriend and that it obviously wasn’t as over as you had intimated. Please, just the part where you leave me, not the rest of it.