“It’s just not a good fit,” I told Richard at work the next day. “He won’t talk to me—won’t answer any of my questions. He invited a whole apartment full of women over just so he wouldn’t have to do the interview.”

Richard chuckled. “Typical rock star,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to try another tactic then.”

“I’m not playing strip poker,” I muttered. “Maybe you should assign someone else.”

“He requested you,” Richard reminded me. “It was a condition of granting us the exclusive at all.”

I couldn’t figure out why. Did he think that because we knew each other I would let him get away with his rock star bullshit? If he remembered me at all from college, he’d know how little I cared about that kind of stuff. Was it so he could rub his success in my face while reminding me that I was miles away from where I wanted to be? That didn’t seem right either. Because while Austin was a player and a jerk, he wasn’t cruel.

Unless he had changed more than I had expected, and this was all just a game to him. A way to pass the time tormenting me, for kicks.

None of it seemed to matter to Richard—he wouldn’t budge on having the story reassigned. Nope—Austin James was all mine. Whether I liked it or not. I headed back to my desk and spent the rest of the day pulling old interviews and research on Austin, looking for some way to get him to open up. It was like a trip back through rock star history. His band, Methods of Mayhem, broke out in a big way when their debut single was used in a Nicholas Sparks movie. They were suddenly the hottest thing in the business: VIP parties, sold-out tours, and a ton of number-one singles. They were young and hot and had the world at their feet—and on their knees, if the string of tabloid stories was anything to go by. Austin’s bandmate, Danny, was the big ladies’ man, but Austin gave him a run for his money, dating the hottest models and Hollywood starlets around.

I scrolled through the photos, trying to imagine a life in the spotlight like that, but I couldn’t. It was totally foreign to me. While I’d been studying for finals, Austin was on a world tour. When I’d been moving into a tiny studio with two roommates in Brooklyn, he was showing off his party pad in the Hollywood Hills. I should have been envious, but looking at his face on a magazine cover—ducking out of a club, trying to cover his head—all I thought was how exhausting the whole thing looked. I mean, even Austin didn’t look like he was having any fun by the end of it, when the band spiraled out of control and then shocked the world with their split.

By the end of the day, and my trip down Austin James’s memory lane, I was in desperate need of a donut. Or a dozen of them.

“911” is what I texted Cassie and Grace, trusting that they would know exactly what to do, so by the time I got back to my apartment with a box of the best donuts in New York, Cassie would be there with a bottle of wine, and Grace would have Miss Congeniality queued up and ready to go.

“Honeys, I’m home!” I called out as I entered the apartment, loaded down with not one, but two boxes of donuts from Donut Planet.

I put my treasures down on the coffee table and headed into the kitchen where I found Cassie, Grace, and my very best friend, Penny.

“What are you doing here?!” I squealed, practically launching myself into her arms.

She had been away on some tropical island while her hunky movie-star boyfriend had been filming the latest blockbuster superhero movie. I hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“Surprise!” she said, hugging me tightly. “We’re in town for press junkets. I didn’t know I’d get any time off, so I didn’t call. Hope it’s OK that I just came over.”

“Of course, it’s OK.” I pointed towards the living room. “And I have two dozen donuts that say it’s fricking great that you’re here.”

Penny winced. “Two dozen?” she asked. “What happened?”

Cassie and Grace exchanged a look before Grace poured me a generous glass of wine.

“Let’s all settle in first, shall we,” she suggested.

Someone ordered pizza and we all squeezed onto our small, lumpy, but extremely comfortable couch together, donuts and wine in hand.

“So.” Penny faced me. “What happened that constitutes a two-dozen donut emergency?”

I let out a sigh and flopped back against the cushions.

“Austin James,” I told her.

Out of everyone, Penny knew the most about my ill-fated crush on Austin. She knew about the kiss, but I had to explain to her how he had unexpectedly returned to my life.

“So he wanted you to interview him?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Apparently.” I threw up my hands. “But he won’t let me. Every answer is a joke or an evasion.”

Penny frowned. “That’s not very nice of him.”

“He’s a rock star,” Cassie noted. “I don’t think they’re really known for their niceness. Their talented fingers, on the other hand—”

I shot her a look, but she just gave me a wink.

“You know you’ve been thinking about it,” she said.

Of course I had been thinking about it. That was the most annoying part. That even though Austin was being a royal pain in the ass, he was still too damn hot. A fact that seemed to have my body on permanent high alert.

It was just one of the many reasons I didn’t want to spend another minute with him. It only reminded me that I was attracted to him—when I didn’t want to be. Hadn’t I learned my lesson eight years ago?

I was just Luke’s nerdy little sister. Not his type.

“Maybe there’s something there,” Grace mused out loud. “Maybe the way to get what you want from him is to seduce him.”

“No!” I said quickly. Too quickly.

Three pairs of eyes focused on me.

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” Cassie said.

Damn right I protest too much. Because if I didn’t, I would end up as just another notch in Austin James’s bedpost. And the worst part was that a certain part of me—certain body parts in particular—didn’t really think that would be so bad.

But my brain knew it was a terrible idea. I had let Austin fool me into thinking he was a decent guy—I wasn’t going to let him do that again. He was a player, through and through. I mean, what other kind of guy invited a bunch of strange women over to play strip poker in his apartment? Or got strange women off in the bathroom at parties?

Not a guy I wanted to get involved with. In any way.

Only Penny gave me a sympathetic look.

“There has to be another way,” she said.

Immediately everyone was brainstorming potential ways for me to get a decent interview out of Austin.

“You could blackmail him,” Grace suggested.

“Grace!” I admonished her, shocked that she would suggest something like that.

“What?” She blushed, but gave me a little smile. “You want that interview, don’t you?”

“Sure, but I’m not resorting to blackmail,” I said. “Besides, I don’t have anything to blackmail him with.”

She nodded. “Good point.”

“There has to be another way,” Cassie mused.

I shook my head. “I think I just need to stick it out and hope that I can wrangle something half-decent out of him.”

Just then, my phone buzzed. I fished it out from underneath me and checked the screen. It was from Austin, and had a time and an address. The time was four hours from now, the location was Boston.

“Be there,” the message said.

“Goddammit,” I swore, leaping off the couch, and nearly disturbing three glasses of wine.

“What happened?” Penny asked, holding her wine above her head as if I might make some more sudden movements.

I showed the girls the text message.

“See what I’m dealing with?” I asked.

“He wants you to go to Boston?” Penny wanted to know. “Now?”

“Apparently so.” I scrolled through my contacts until I found the number I was looking for.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered.

Perfect. If my older brother had been fully awake, there would be no chance that I could convince him to let me drive his beloved car all the way to Boston tonight.

“Luke? I need Ruthie.”