“Hey.” A soft voice broke into the conversation and Tai closed his eyes. His mind must have been playing tricks on him, because there was no way—

“Hello, Christa.” Gigi’s voice could’ve given a polar bear frostbite as she took a protective step closer to him.

His heart knocked against his chest and he turned away from Anya to face Christa.

She was looking up at him, her big blue eyes already sucking his soul out by inches. “What are you doing here?” he growled.

“I-I came to see you.” She sank her teeth into her lower lip then looked away. “I just want to talk to you for a second, Tai.”

Short of making a scene and confirming to her and everyone else there just how much she affected him, did he really have a choice in the matter? That didn’t mean he had to make it easy on her, though.

“Yeah, no problem. What’s up?”

She flicked a glance at the four other people surrounding them, then locked her gaze on him again. He raised a challenging brow.

“Alone,” she said with a defiant lift of her chin.

That was the Christa he knew. Fearless, confident and used to people doing her bidding. Too bad those days were over. “Is there a reason we can’t talk here? We’re among friends. Well, I am, at least.”

Anya leaned into him and whispered loudly into his ear. “Is this chick like some kind of stalker or something? She looks like a schoolteacher.”

Christa’s cheeks bloomed with fiery color and it was obvious that she, along with everyone else in the immediate vicinity, had heard the insult. An irrational blast of annoyance surged through him.

Anya was wrong on one count, Christa didn’t look like any teacher he’d ever seen.

The peach sweater she wore skimmed over her elegant frame the way his hands itched to, the gentle swell of her breast beckoning him to reach out and trace it with one finger. His throat worked as he struggled to swallow.

Before he could form a response, Christa bared her teeth at the other woman in some semblance of a smile.

“Nope, but we do know each other from school. We go way back, don’t we, Tai? He was the first boy I ever kissed,” she said with a conspiratorial wink at Anya.

Anya rolled her eyes.

“So what do you say?” Christa’s tone was light but her eyes were locked on his, intense…searching. “Can I have a minute alone with you, for old time’s sake?”

He shrugged and dug around for a nonchalant grin. “Why not?” The bartender chose that moment to set a beer in front of him and he scooped it up before facing Christa again. “Where to?”

“Are you sure about this, Tai?” Gigi caught his gaze and held it for a long moment.

“Absolutely. Nothing wrong with a quick chat with an old friend, right?”

She didn’t look convinced, but she backed away with one last hard look at Christa. “We’re going to the game room to shoot some pool. Come back and join us when you’re done.”

“We are?” Beau drawled, then caught Gigi’s pointed glare. “That’s right. We’ll be back there. Shooting some pool.”

Gigi grabbed his hand and pulled him across the room.

“What about us?” Anya grumbled, running a hand over his chest with a pout.

“No worries, ladies, I’ll be back in just a few. Don’t go anywhere.”

“We won’t,” they chimed together and broke into a fit of giggles. The tinny sound almost made him cringe but he refrained. Better Christa thought he was into her. It would be easier that way.

Christa led him away from the bar toward a booth in the back. He tried to ignore the sway of her hips, but failed miserably. Like a charmed snake, he was mesmerized.

“Make sure she doesn’t try to boil your bunny,” Maya called from across the room as the two women chuckled some more and gave each other a fist-bump.

It was rude and immature, but it effectively distracted him from Christa’s ass, breaking the spell he’d been under, and he was so down with that.

Christa ignored them entirely as she reached the booth and slid in. “New friends?” she asked, her face unreadable as he took a seat across from her.

“Something like that. Listen, I thought we kind of did this the other night. The whole reunion thing. What are you doing here?”

Her confidence seemed to waver in the face of his bluntness and her composure slipped. For a split second, she looked seventeen again. Vulnerable, scared but determined…just like the night they’d made love.

He took a long pull from his beer. Now was not the time to remember being with her that way. Pressing between those sleek thighs, her breathy cries slaying him even as her sweet kisses resurrected him.

“God damn it, answer me,” he demanded, slapping a hand on the table between them.

To her credit, she didn’t bat an eye. “I have things I need to say. Things I want to know. I’d like to go somewhere a little quieter but I see you’re,” she gestured to the bar where Anya sat, glaring at them, “busy right now, but maybe after you finish your beer and you’re ready to go, you’ll let me take you out for a late-night breakfast or something?”

She must have sensed his impending refusal, because she covered his hand with her own. “Please.”

He forced himself to stay still. To stop from jerking away, or worse, returning her caress. “And if I say no?”

“Then I’ll ask you again when we get to Richmond. And again in Memphis. I’m not going another ten years like this, ruled by regret, armed with only assumptions and hearsay. I’ve finally found you again and I’m not just going to walk away. Not until we talk some things through.”

He stared at her hard. “So you mean you actually are going to stalk me.”

Why her persistence warmed the icy cavern in his chest just a little, he couldn’t say, but whatever the reason, he didn’t like the sensation one fucking bit. She thought she still wanted a piece of him? Time to call her bluff.

“Fine, you want to do this? Let’s get it over with. I’m not having you cramp my style the whole rest of this tour. Where are you staying?”

Her eyes flashed with hurt, but she swallowed hard and said, “The Flanders All- Suites Hotel. Room six-oh-eight.”

“Fine,” he said with a curt nod. “I’m going to have another beer, then I’ll meet you there.” He stood, preparing to leave, then turned to face her as if it was an afterthought. “Of course, if you expect me to cut my date short, I still expect to get laid. I mean, it’s only fair, right? So can I assume that, after our heart-to-heart, you’re going to fuck me? You know, for old time’s sake.”

Her face went bone white as he threw her earlier words back in her face. As she stared at him through eyes clouded with pain and confusion, guilt knotted tight in his gut. And still, he refused to back down.

She had abandoned him when he needed her most. Tossed him aside like a piece of well-chewed gum. Hell, at the end of the day he was probably doing her a favor. She’d only regret slumming again. He looked away, finding it hard to witness her pain.

“Okay.”

His gaze snapped back to clash with hers at her quiet pronouncement. “Okay what?” he asked.

The eyes that had been so filled with hurt were snapping with anger now. “Okay, if you come to the hotel and talk with me, I’ll…” She paused and let out a shaky breath. “I’ll fuck you.”

“You can’t be serious.” Even as he protested, his abs tightened and his cock thickened, pressing against his zipper.

“What, you planned on me saying no? That seems like playing dirty.”

He shook his head slowly as he tried to get his bearings now that she’d effectively blown his mind. “Not at all. I’m just trying to get you to see I’m not the same kid you used to know. Sensitive Tai, madly in love with you. That guy is dead and buried.”

“Were you?” she whispered.

“Was I what?”

“Madly in love with me.”

“See what I mean?” he practically snarled. “This is the shit I’m not doing. You want to get some stuff off your chest and have a tumble with me, I’m down with it. But this isn’t some melodramatic love story. The two people you think we are? They’re ghosts. Memories. Gone. Get it through your head now or it’s going to be a real letdown later.”

She didn’t say anything so he leaned close, until their faces were level.

“So what do you say, doll? You still in?”

He waited, every heartbeat an agony, every breath a struggle. When she finally spoke, it was like a body blow.

“I’m in.”

“Leave my name with the front desk.” He turned on his heel and strode back to the bar, cursing himself the whole way.

As he approached, Anya held out a fresh beer. “So glad you came back. I see your friend got the hint.” She nodded to the door where Christa exited the building without a backward glance.

He gave a distracted nod and set his empty bottle on the bar. What the fuck was he thinking? He’d basically signed himself up for voluntary torture. No matter how things went, he’d all but undone every stride he’d made toward getting over Christa with one cocky-ass speech.

He’d rolled the dice and failed. Now to figure out how to get out of this mess with the least amount of damage to his mental health.

If he went to that hotel, there was no way he was talking about anything of consequence with her. It would be like tearing a tidy bandage off a gaping wound. It just wasn’t an option. Even if they didn’t sleep together, he’d still be around her, in her presence, and she would slowly infiltrate every fiber of his being until he couldn’t go five minutes without thinking of her again.

It had been like that the whole time they were together, and straight through the first year of prison. He could have forgiven her then. It had been a rough night, she was afraid and under pressure. Had she come at any point then, he would have accepted her with open arms.

It was only when he’d realized that she wasn’t coming to see him, not ever, that he’d given up hope and tried to exorcise her from his mind forever. It hadn’t worked, exactly. But it had at least gotten to the point that he could get through the day and find some joy again. Until now.

The other option was to blow her off. Just not go. That was a stop-gap measure. It would keep him safe for tonight, but what about tomorrow? Or the next day? He’d seen that look on her face before. When she had her mind set like that there was no stopping her. And how much of a chicken shit was he that he was about to take that sad little reprieve?

“Whatcha thinking about?” Anya asked, running a coy finger over his biceps.

He met her frank gaze head-on, ruthlessly squashing the guilt cramping his insides. “I’m starved. Want to go get a bite to eat? Maybe come check out the tour bus?”

She shot a questioning look to Maya, who in turn gave a lascivious smile and thumbs-up. “You two have fun. Leave me your keys, I’ll drive myself home.”

Anya turned back to face him, stepping close enough for him to feel her 36 DDs. “I’d love to go out to eat with you.” She took the last swallow of her beer before adding, “But just so you know, I only eat soup.”

He stared at her for a long moment, waiting for the punch line, but she just gazed back at him.

He raised an eyebrow in question. “Ah…what do you mean? Like, ever, or…”

“Dr. Maltby’s Soup Revolution. You never heard of it? It’s not a diet. It’s a lifestyle. It sounds restrictive but, I mean, I can basically eat whatever I want, and as much as I want. As long as it’s soup.”

For a second he wondered if maybe he was on some kind of game show or maybe someone was screwing with him. One more look at her earnest face and it finally sank in.

“Why is your eyelid twitching like that?” she asked.

“Is it? I didn’t notice.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

This was all wrong. He had no interest in this woman. He could be a real shit sometimes, and she didn’t deserve to be a pawn in some game between him and Christa. Granted, she knew the score and this wasn’t some love match, but he didn’t feel right about any of it when he couldn’t give her even half his attention.

Until he confronted Christa and dealt with these feelings roiling inside him, he was going to be basically useless.

Time to face the music.

“Listen, I’m really sorry but I can’t do this right now. Can I take a rain check on the soup date and cash in when I’m less distracted maybe?”

Her face fell, but she nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

She jotted her number on a napkin and handed it to him, sliding her fingers against his palm suggestively before letting go.

“You sure?”

He sent her a pained smile and nodded. He slapped a fifty on the bar and motioned to the bartender. “Take care of these ladies for me, would you?” His feet were already in motion as he called over his shoulder.

“Thanks.”