Somehow he was going to win the girl.

As plans went, Wyatt had to admit it was a little vague. Not so much a plan, but a hope. An intention.

Somehow, though, he was going to see it through. At least he knew more about her now than he had before. And he pursued her like he’d never pursued a girl before. Flowers in her locker. Compliments whenever he saw her. Lattes in the morning, which he left for her even if she said no. And, best of all, tickets to the final round of a ballroom dance competition being held right there in Santa Barbara.

“I don’t know if you’re into dancing,” he lied, thrusting two tickets into her hand as they stood outside the tennis center. “But someone gave these to me, and I thought you might want to go. With me, I mean.” He gave himself a mental kick. He sounded like a douche. Not a confident seventeen-year-old.

But from the way she was smiling, it didn’t look like she thought he was lame. On the contrary, her entire face glowed.

“I love dancing,” she admitted. “It’s—well, it’s what I want to do. The only thing I want to do.”

“Then this works out great,” he said, the feeling that he was an idiot morphing into something much more pleasant.

“Except—well, it’s just—” She held the tickets back out to him, and it felt like a punch in the gut. “It’s just that I can’t accept this.”

“You don’t have to.” The words tumbled out of his mouth. “I mean, I already accepted. They were a gift to me.” Not exactly a lie since his grandmother gave him the tickets. “I just need someone to tag along so I don’t have an empty seat beside me. Looks pathetic, you know.”

She bit her lower lip. “Really?”

“You’d be helping me out a lot.”

“Thursday?”

“It’s in the afternoon. You don’t have to work, do you?” He knew she didn’t; he’d already checked her schedule.

She shook her head. “That’s my day off.”

“Great. Your parents will let you come, right?”

“I don’t—” She cut herself off, then lifted her chin. For the first time, she looked him straight in the eye, and he felt the reverberations all the way through him. “I mean, I don’t think that would be a problem. Thank you,” she added, then drew a deep breath. “I’d love to go with you.”

Those tickets turned everything upside down, switching his world from just okay to absolutely perfect. He and Kelsey started walking together regularly, taking the long way from the snack bar to the tennis center. They snuck in more time, too. Breaks at the edge of the golf course. Hours stolen during weekends.

He learned that she danced whenever she could sneak in the time, and that she adored her little brother. “I try to stay mad at him,” she admitted. “But then he’ll make up a story in these crazy voices he does, and whatever irritated me just sort of fades away. Griffin’s great.”

“I want to meet him.” They’d paused on the main walking path at the turn-off to the tennis center. “Why don’t I just come with you?” Every day, this is where he left her. But every day, he didn’t want their stolen time together to end.

“Someday. But I—”

“Ashamed of me?” he quipped.

She bit her lower lip, looking younger than her fifteen years. “It’s just that Griff’s only twelve, and if he says something . . . I mean, I’m not allowed to date—”

“We just went to the competition together.”

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t really a date. I was doing you a favor filling that seat, right? And, um, my parents were out of town. They took my brother to LA for an appointment, and I knew they wouldn’t be back until late.”

“So you didn’t tell them.”

Her cheeks bloomed pink. “I don’t usually sneak around,” she admitted. “But I—you know.” She met his eyes, then looked at her shoes. He thought her shyness was adorable. Hell, he thought she was adorable.

She drew a breath. “I guess I told myself it was like going to a movie. Only with live dancers. But seriously, Wyatt, if my dad—”

He held up a hand, then pressed his finger to her lips. “It’s okay. Really. I get it.” He flashed a grin. “I’ll meet Griffin some other time. Once your dad approves of me,” he teased.

“Yeah?” Her smile was like sunshine. “You don’t mind?”

“I want to hang out with you,” he said. “All the rest is no big deal.”

With every day that passed, they managed to sneak in more and more time. He took photo after photo of her. By the pool, on the walking path, anywhere he could. Mostly, they talked incessantly, learning everything they could about each other. He learned she liked salted chocolate, but hated nuts. That she loved pink in her dance outfits, but hated it in her regular clothes. That her favorite author was Mark Twain, but that she had a weakness for Nancy Drew books, and that even though she stopped reading them years ago, she had her entire collection packed neatly in plastic boxes she kept stacked in her closet.

He confessed that he generally despised fast food but had a weakness for In-N-Out Burger. That he’d accidentally blown up the garden shed in middle school when he was trying to come up with a project for the science fair, and that he’d once played Pac-Man for twelve hours straight on the free-standing machine that his grandmother kept in the game room.

The last revelation led to an even bigger one, because he hadn’t realized that she knew about his family until she asked him, point blank, if it was hard growing up around so many famous people.

“Wow,” he said, thrown by the question. “I didn’t think you knew about my family.”

“I overheard Grace and Marsha talking that first day you came to the pool.”

“Really?” He cocked his head as he looked at her, then realized he was grinning so wide he must look like a fool.

She laughed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason.” He was still grinning, but how could he not? He thought back on all the days he’d been pursuing her, and it gave him a nice, warm feeling in his gut to know that all that time she knew who he was.

“No reason?” she repeated, then laughed. “Come on. Tell me.”

“Maybe I like you,” he said, though the simple words did nothing to capture the euphoria he felt from just being around her. From knowing that she wanted to be around him, and not the Segel boy. He reached out and took her hand, then twined his fingers with hers.

She ducked her head, then gently hip-butted him. “Maybe I like you, too.”

They walked, hands swinging, toward the little copse of trees between the eighth and ninth greens. Wyatt had discovered it when he was wandering the grounds taking landscape shots, and now they were heading that direction so that he could take photos of Kelsey sitting on the massive, low-lying limb.

“I felt a little sorry for you that day,” she said softly. “That first day, I mean.” She glanced up at him, then almost immediately back down at the grass.

“You did?” He couldn’t remember the last time someone said they felt sorry for him. Oh, wait. Yes, he could. That would have been the fourth of absolutely never ever. “Why?”

“I guess because it must be hard, and a little lonely, too. Because you never really know why someone wants to be your friend, do you?”

They were still walking, but now he tugged her to a stop. He wanted to tell her she was right. That he didn’t think anyone else understood that, at least not anyone who wasn’t born into a celebrity family. Mostly, he wanted to just look at her. To feel the warmth inside him turn into a raging blaze of longing for this girl who got him. Who really and truly got him.

“Wyatt?”

He blinked, realizing suddenly that he was staring. “Sorry. Sorry, it’s just—well, it’s just that you’re right. It is hard.”

She nodded, but frowned a bit, too.

“What?”

“I was thinking that your last name makes it even more hard. It’s so well known. But then I was wondering why it’s your name at all. Shouldn’t you have your father’s name?”

“You’ve obviously never met Anika Segel. My grandmother is the head of a wide and vast matriarchy. No way was my dad going to win that battle.”

Her mouth twisted a bit. “Guess it’s hard for your dad, too, huh?”

He nodded, thinking about the conversation he’d had with his father back when he was still trying to get Kelsey’s attention. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It is.”

She took his hand and they started walking again. They’d veered off the path and were now walking on the green toward the cluster of trees. “At least people see you and talk to you,” she said. “They notice you because of the name and your family. I’m invisible.”

He pulled her to a stop again, then searched her face, his heart breaking a little at the truth he saw there. A truth he didn’t understand, because she was amazing. Sweet and smart and funny and talented. He could spend days talking to her, sitting with her, or just quietly holding her hand. He could, and yet he couldn’t, because her parents kept her on such a tight leash.

“You’re not invisible to me,” he said, and he almost kissed her right then. Instead, he brushed her lips with the tip of his finger.

She sighed with more passion and longing than he’d ever heard from any of the girls he’d dated.

That’s when he knew. He wasn’t just Wyatt anymore. He was Wyatt and Kelsey.

And damned if that didn’t feel nice.

“Have you ever been kissed?”

Her eyes shot up to his, and he wasn’t sure if it was excitement he saw there, or terror.

She swallowed, then shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

That little word made him happier than it should. “I’m going to be your first, Kelsey Draper.”

“Oh.” A pink stain flooded her cheeks. “Okay.”

“But not today.”

“Oh.” Now the word was laced with disappointment, and damned if that didn’t make him feel good, too. “When?” she added.

But he only smiled, released her hand, and said, “Race you to the trees.”

The next day, he brought her tickets to the ballet. He pulled her around the rec center to the service doors because nobody ever went there, and handed her a small, flat box. Then he had to fight not to smile like an idiot as he watched the awe on her face when she opened it and drew out the two printed pieces of paper.

“Wyatt. This is amazing. You got me tickets to Swan Lake?”

“You like?”

“It’s one of my favorite ballets ever. This is incredible.”

“You’re incredible,” he said and was surprised when she frowned.

“It’s in Los Angeles,” she said. “My father’s never going to let me go.”

“Really? Not even to the ballet? It’s cultural.”

She lifted her shoulders, and it killed him the way she seemed to be sinking into herself. He hadn’t met her dad, but she’d told him enough. And Wyatt had seen the man, too. Leonard Draper worked ten-hour days at the club, so even though he was usually out on the golf course or overseeing the maintenance of the shrubs and flowers in the various public areas, he was around enough that Wyatt had managed to pick him out. A lean, lanky man with a hard face and the leathery skin of someone who’d worked outside his whole life.

Only his eyes reminded him of Kelsey. But where hers were as blue as the Caribbean, his seemed as distant and cold as a glacier.

Wyatt watched her face, now drained of the joy that had lit her from within only a few moments before. Bastard. He didn’t know what Leonard Draper’s problem was, but he knew it pissed him off. And that if the rules he made regarding his daughter denied Kelsey access to all the things she loved, then the rules were stupid.

And Wyatt didn’t have a problem breaking stupid rules.

“We don’t have to tell your dad,” he said.

Her eyes went wide. “If he ever found out . . . I mean, the dance competition was here. And he was out of town. And I could have just told him I got a ticket all on my own because I wanted to see the dancing. I would have gotten in trouble, but not for being with a boy. But this? If he finds out. . . .” She shuddered. “Not telling him would be as bad as going to the ballet in the first place.”

“What does he have against the ballet?”

“He . . . he just doesn’t think it’s right for me. Watching it is okay. But not watching it with a boy all the way in Los Angeles.”

“Do you have any girlfriends here?”

For a moment, she looked at him blankly. Then her eyes went wide, and she hugged herself, then looked at her watch. “I need to run. I’ve got to get Griffin.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, with a quick glance at his own watch. “You’ve got at least five more minutes.” But he was saying the last to the air. Kelsey had already sprinted away.

Damn.

He kicked himself for even suggesting it. He should have known she wasn’t the kind of girl who’d go against her parents, even if the law her parents set down was stupid.

He told himself he’d apologize when he saw her the next day, and then the next day he had to kick himself even harder, because she managed to avoid him altogether.

He’d screwed it up. He’d gone and completely screwed it up.

Two entire days later he still hadn’t seen her. He spent the afternoon swimming laps, and realized that she must have asked to switch her schedule around, because she didn’t wipe down one single table the entire time he was there.

He finally gave up and headed to his car, all the while wondering as to the best tactic for groveling his way back into her good graces. But when he arrived at the parking lot and saw her leaning against the BMW he’d borrowed from the fleet his grandmother kept in Santa Barbara, his heart skipped a beat as a flicker of hope settled in his chest.

Maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t screwed this up too bad.

“Hi,” he said, half-afraid he was hallucinating.

“My friend Joy lives here during the summers.” She drew a breath as if for courage. “I could say I was staying with her next Friday.”

“You’d be okay with that?” His heart was pounding so loud he was certain she could hear it. “You’re not exactly the rule-breaking kind, Kelsey Draper. And I don’t want—”

“What?”

It was his turn to suck in air. “I don’t want you to resent me if you get in trouble. Or even if you just feel guilty.”

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts and nodded. “That’s sweet.” She looked down at the pavement. “And—and well, I probably will feel guilty. But I think you’re worth it,” she added, tilting her head up to look at him.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, her entire face lighting up as she smiled.

“You can trust this girl?”

“Definitely. We go to school together. Brighton,” she said, referring to an exclusive girls’ school in Los Angeles. “I’m on scholarship.”

“I’m impressed. Brighton’s got a hell of a reputation.”

“I guess. I got in based on academics, but I applied because they offer dance for PE credit. It’s not a dance academy, but they support the arts, and so at least I get to study, you know?”

“And your dad’s okay with that?”

“Technically, my dance class is a gym class. So he copes. Mostly he likes being able to say that his little girl goes there on scholarship. And—” She cut herself off with a shake of her head.

“What?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. It’s petty,” she added when he lifted a brow and stared her down.

“So? I’m not going to think less of you.”

“He doesn’t let me dance—you know, not at a real studio. And he knows it bugs me. So I think in his mind I can’t complain since he’s letting me go to Brighton.”

Wyatt nodded, hoping she wouldn’t see the way he was clenching his fists to fight back the anger. Her dad was a piece of work, and the sooner she graduated and got out of there the better.

“I never asked where you go,” she said.

“Beverly Hills High School,” he said, then grimaced. “I fit the profile of a Hollywood cliché, but my mom and sister went there, so no one was going to rock the boat for me. But I’m doing my senior year in Boston,” he added. “I got into an exclusive photography academy.”

“I’m not surprised. And I bet you’re the top in the class. Your work is fabulous.”

He’d hooked his camera up to the computer at Patrick’s work station once between her shifts and showed her some of the images that were on the memory disk. It wasn’t his best work, and it was all raw, without any time spent cleaning up or enhancing at his own computer. Even so, he appreciated the compliment as much as the tone of absolute loyalty and certainty.

“Will you get to study only photography? Or do you have to do the regular school stuff, too?”

“A couple of classes, but mostly I’m done with all my academic requirements.”

Her sigh was filled with longing. “I wish I could go to a dance academy.”

He started to say something, but she shook her head, cutting him off. He knew her situation—even if she got a scholarship, her dad wouldn’t let her go. “Well, at least you have Brighton,” he said, lamely. “I can’t believe you’ve been going to school just a few miles from me all this time.”

“And now you’re going to Boston.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll miss you.”

“I probably wouldn’t have applied if I’d known about you. There are excellent photography schools around LA, too.”

“Really? Then why didn’t you apply to those? Boston’s all the way across the country.”

He considered giving her his stock bullshit answer about how the Boston program was the most innovative, had the most variety of classes, offered him an amazing scholarship. And all of those reasons were true. They just weren’t the reason.

And Kelsey deserved the truth.

“I want to get away from my family,” he said simply.

“You do? But you love your parents. And you’ve said yourself your grandmother’s amazing.”

“She is. And I do. But—oh, hell. I want to be a photographer. More than that, I want to be a successful one. I don’t want to be a starving artist. I want to make a real living.”

Her brow furrowed. “But you—”

“What?” He snapped the word, then kicked himself when she flinched. But didn’t she get it? After all the talks they’d had? All the time they’d spent together? “You think it doesn’t matter because I have a trust fund? That I should just live on that and fund my business and not care if it never really earns a penny because what does it matter, I can pay my rent and buy my groceries?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression somehow both stern and sympathetic. “Actually, I was going to say that being a success doesn’t depend on where you go to school. You’ll be a success even if you teach yourself. You’re really talented, Wyatt. Of course, you’re going to be amazing.”

Everything that had been tightening up in him loosened again, and he basked for a moment in her complete faith in him. Then he kicked himself even harder for assuming that she’d been thinking the worst.

Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—it’s just that it’s hard trying to do anything in the arts around my family. My grandmother would want to set me up with a gallery on Rodeo Drive.” He paused. “Should we sit in the car?”

She shook her head. “If my dad sees me in your car, he’ll have a fit. Out here, I can say you were asking me about working for the club. Member staff relations or some silliness like that.”

“Well, sit on the hood if you want.”

She laughed. “I’m fine, and you’re changing the subject. Even if your grandmother did set you up with a gallery, it would only stay open if you’re talented enough to keep the customers coming in. And you are.”

“Except, I’d never know for sure. The circles my family runs in—they can afford to buy bullshit art, just for the social value of saying they own a Segel print.”

“Maybe they really like what they buy.”

“Maybe they do. But how do I know?” He shrugged, then thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “I want to earn it, Kelsey. I see my dad and all the attention he gets just from marrying in to the family. I know it bugs him. He’s a CPA, and not even for the entertainment industry. But the paparazzi still hound him. And he feels like a fraud.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he said so. Not to me, but I overheard him talking to my mom just the other day. About how nobody sees him for himself. And how my family all expect him to be larger than life. The way they are. He hates it. I mean, he loves my mom, but he hates that he’s invisible. All the public sees is the name. Not him.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I get that.”

“You’re not invisible. I already told you.”

“Not to you.” Her smile filled him up. “But I understand where he’s coming from. And you, too. You want to make a name in photography the same way I imagine dancing on the stage.”

“You could do that, you know. Maybe not now,” he added as she started to shake her head. “But after you graduate. Move out on your own.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

He wanted to press the issue. To tell her that whatever weirdness her dad was holding onto about dancing and dating and anything else, she needed to just ignore it. He’d never even really met the man and he knew that Leonard Draper was sucking the life out of his daughter. He wanted to say all that—to tell her to not let anyone stop her from following her dream—but before he got the words out, she stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked, a little stunned, and very pleased.

“For Swan Lake.”

He hesitated, because he knew that was her way of changing the subject. But in the end, he let it go. “You’re welcome,” he said. “And we’ll both have to thank Joy.”

“True.” She laughed. “She’s never going to let me forget this. She said you can pick me up at her house, and then after the show you can drop me back as late as you need to. She’ll drive me home in the morning so that my dad can see her drop me off.”

“And she won’t blow your secret?”

“Never.”

“Then it’s a date.”

“My first real date.”

A wave of pride swelled inside him, and he swore to himself that not only was Friday night going to be memorable as a first date, it was going to rank for all time as her best date ever, even if he did only have two days to pull it off.

When Friday rolled around, he had to congratulate himself. He met her at Joy’s in a Lincoln Town Car with a private driver, and he felt pretty damn sophisticated as he walked up the porch to get her. And then, when the front door opened and she stood there looking stunning and elegant in a simple black dress with a string of pearls, her luxurious hair curling softly around her face, he knew that he’d made the perfect decision.

So he really wasn’t expecting her look of confusion, maybe even shock, when she saw the car.

“It’ll be more fun,” he explained as he led her toward the drive. “We can talk, we don’t have to worry about parking, and I won’t completely turn you off by cursing like a pirate once we hit LA traffic.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense,” she said, even though the little furrow between her brows suggested it didn’t make sense at all. “It’s just—you know what? Never mind.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m really looking forward to tonight.”

“Me, too,” he said, even though her odd behavior had taken a bite out of his enthusiasm. “Actually, wait,” he said, because he really couldn’t stand the not knowing. He took her arm and pulled her to a stop. “What’s going on?”

She hesitated, then answered. “It’s just that I thought you didn’t like all of, well, that stuff.” She waved her hand at the car. “Your grandmother’s stuff, I mean. The drivers and the limos and all of the show.”

He laughed, so relieved the sound just bubbled out of him. “I like it just fine. What I said was that I want to earn it.”

“But—”

“And I did. I have family money, sure. But I also have my own account. I opened it when I was twelve and sold my first print at an art fair in Laguna Beach.”

“You used the money you’ve been saving since you were a kid to rent us a car?” Her smile was so wide she could have advertised toothpaste.

“I want tonight to be special.”

She took the arm he offered. “It already is.”

And she was right. The night started perfect and only got better. She’d never seen a professionally performed live ballet, and he felt like a superhero, simply from being the guy who gave that to her. They didn’t have time for dinner, but they drove through In-N-Out Burger, his favorite fast food place ever, and though he’d been worried that she’d think it was tacky, she was so obviously delighted that they were eating to-go hamburgers in the back of a Town Car that he grinned all the way to the theater.

Best of all, they shared a chocolate milkshake.

She was smart and funny and easy to be with, and the more time they spent together the more she came out of her shell. The only hitch in the entire evening was the rather minor point that he couldn’t watch the ballet at all. He pretended to, sure. But mostly he just watched her. The way she moved. The way her dress hugged her body. He wanted to touch her so damn much. To kiss her softly so that he could hear how much she liked it. And then hard, because that’s what he wanted. All these feelings inside him, this need. It was all because of her, and he was a walking, talking ball of lust with a hard-on, and he really wasn’t sure how he was going to hide that from her.

He spent the last act of the ballet trying to distract himself by thinking about how he’d photograph the stage if he’d been hired to do the publicity shots. What film speed. What aperture. How he’d place the dancers in relation to the set. How he’d set up the lighting. And maybe he should use a filter to give it a magical quality.

The more he thought about it, the deeper he sank. And, thank God, the more he relaxed. So by the curtain call he could stand beside her and not risk complete and total mortification.

But oh, God, he wanted this girl.

“That was amazing.” She took his hands. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

They were in a semi-private box, and the two other couples filed out first. She started to head that direction, but he tugged her back. “Wait,” he ordered when she arched a brow in question. “I still owe you something.”

For a moment she looked confused. But when he stepped closer and slid his hand around her waist, her eyes grew wide. His palm rested against her lower back, and he could feel her heat and the little nervous tremble. “I owe you a kiss, remember?”

Her lips parted just a little, as if she was going to speak. But then she swallowed and simply nodded. He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, a kiss as soft as breath, tentative and easy, because he knew it was her first. But when he heard her soft little moan of pleasure, it was like someone had thrown gasoline on a fire. Need exploded inside him, and he pulled her closer, until her body was flush against his, and her arms locked around his neck as if he was the only safe haven she knew.

With his free hand, he cupped her head, wanting more—everything—and when her lips parted and he deepened the kiss, his tongue tasting and teasing, he thought that if he died right then it didn’t matter, because nothing could be more perfect than this.

When they finally broke the kiss, she was flushed and breathless and absolutely beautiful. “First kiss,” he said, with a tease in his voice. “How’d you like it?”

“I’m not sure,” she said, her words belied by the sparkle in her eye. “Maybe I need a second kiss to compare it to.”

He was happy to comply, and gave her lots and lots of comparison kisses on the far-too-short ride back to LA. And when the car pulled up in front of Joy’s house, her lips were swollen, her eyes bright, and her hair just a little disheveled.

She looked amazing. More than that, she made him feel amazing.

“Thank you,” she said as the driver opened the door. “You showed me the world tonight,” she added, and he was certain she wasn’t only talking about the ballet.

He kissed her one more time on Joy’s doorstep, and felt like the coolest guy in the world.

After that night, they became inseparable, but in an understated, quiet way. Neither of them wanted word to get back to her dad. So they were careful. Very careful. They walked together in the areas of the club that weren’t well-trafficked. They spent a lot of time in their copse of trees, where he took photo after photo of her, until she’d hold up her hand and say that she wanted to talk to him, not a lens.

And there were kisses. Lots of kisses. The kind that were a promise of things to come. Things they both wanted, but certainly couldn’t ever have. How could they, when they couldn’t even go on a real date?

When the end came, he had no clue that he’d started walking down that path. On the contrary, he was actually looking forward to the future. Wondering how they’d make it work with him in Boston and her in LA. But he was sure they would make it work. That much he promised himself.

The night of Patrick’s party, he knew that her parents were out of town, and he’d called her house and asked if she wanted to come. Just a bunch of kids from the club and a few from the town. It would be fun, he assured her.

“I’m watching Griffin tonight.”

“I thought he was almost thirteen. He can’t stay a few hours by himself?”

“It’s just that—”

“What if I come over to your place?”

“And, what? Rely on Griff to keep a secret? He would—for me, he totally would—but he’s just a kid and he might slip up. We’ve talked about that, Wyatt. Remember?”

“I know. I know. It’s okay. I get it.” He wanted to mean it, but he couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. “It’s just that Patrick’s family’s house is huge. There’d be space for us to be alone, you know? Without feeling like we’re in a spotlight at the club.”

“I want that, too,” she said, with so much sincerity in her voice that he felt like a heel for being irritated that she wouldn’t come. “But even if babysitting wasn’t part of the equation, should we really be seen together like that? At a party? I mean, we’ve been so careful. What if my dad—”

“It’ll be crowded. Just a group of kids. Worst that happens is he finds out you left your brother for a few hours to go to a party with a bunch of teenagers. He doesn’t need to know anything else.”

Even as the words came out of his mouth, he couldn’t believe he was saying them. Was he really encouraging her to break all those rules? Yeah, he was. Because he was a selfish asshole who wanted to see her. Just for a few hours. What was the harm?

And they had so little time left.

“The summer’s almost over,” he pointed out. “I’m gone in less than two weeks.”

“Wyatt, please—”

“Just write down the address. I’m staying the night with Patrick, so you can come anytime if you change your mind, okay?”

She hesitated, but in the end she relented. “Okay. But I probably won’t come.”

He gave her the address. “And Kelsey? I’ll be waiting.”

“Don’t count on me.” Her whisper was so soft, he barely heard it, and when she ended the call, he felt a little lost.

“You fell hard, dude,” Patrick said. “Is widdle Wyatt in wuv?”

Wyatt punched him in the arm. “You’re a prick, you know that, right?”

“Bullshit. I’m a great guy. Everyone says so.”

Wyatt laughed, but he couldn’t get the question out of his head. It was the first time he’d really thought about it, and he knew with one hundred percent certainty that the answer was yes.

That ought to scare him, he thought, but it didn’t. It made him feel great. And it made him want Kelsey beside him all the more.

Which, of course, made the party a complete bore, because he didn’t want to be there without her.

He wandered the rooms aimlessly, chatting with some of the kids, drinking beer like it was water until the room was spinning just a little.

Which explained why when he first saw her by the big screen TV, he thought he was hallucinating. Then she walked toward him, holding a plastic cup like a good luck charm. She took a sip, then another. Then she downed the rest of the drink and finished crossing the room to him.

“Hi,” she said, then kissed him, and from the bourbon on her breath, he had a feeling she’d downed more than the one glass when she’d been searching the house for him.

“Hi, yourself.” He pushed back from her. “What happened to being discreet?”

She shrugged. “I missed you.”

“Let’s get out of the crowd.” He took her hand. “Come on. I have something for you.”

“Really?”

He led her to the guest room where Patrick had told him to throw his stuff, then shut the door. “You can sit,” he said, pointing to the bed, since the room had no chair.

She made a funny little sound, but sat awkwardly on the bed, and he started to rummage through his duffel, finally coming up with the little silver-wrapped box he’d brought for her.

“For me?” she asked, when he handed it to her.

“Open it.”

She licked her lips, then slid her finger under the tape and carefully removed the wrapping to reveal a square, white jewelry box.

“Go on,” he urged, since she’d hesitated once again.

She did, pulling off the lid and then gasping when she saw the bracelet inside. It was a cuff-style, brushed silver bracelet that was shaped into the sign of infinity, a sideways figure eight. It gleamed in the dim light, and she ran her fingertip over it as if it was the most priceless thing she’d ever seen.

“I found it at this boutique when I was out with my grandmother last weekend. I thought of you. And, you know, forever.”

He would have felt silly saying the word, except it was so damn true.

“Forever,” she whispered, then stood up and held it out for him to put on her wrist. He did, then drew his hand back, his fingertips grazing her skin until he closed his hand around hers and pulled her to him. He kissed her then, not asking, simply taking what he wanted. And unlike their first kiss in the theater, this one was wild and deep and familiar.

They’d shared many kisses since that first, and yet this one felt different. Richer. Fuller. Overflowing with promise, ripe with sensuality, laden with desire.

“Kelsey,” he murmured when they broke apart, now joined only by their hands. “I want—”

“I know. But I—”

He shut her up with a kiss, not wanting to hear why he couldn’t have her the way he wanted her. All of her.

He craved her. Needed her. Felt like he’d lose himself if he couldn’t find his soul in hers. He was swimming in poetic nonsense that would have seemed sappy and stupid at any other time or with any other girl, but with Kelsey seemed as real and true as gravity.

And since he knew he’d never convince her with words, he set out to convince her with action. He touched her. Teased her. His hands roamed over her even as his mouth tasted. Her mouth, her ear, her neck. He cupped the back of her neck, his other hand finding her breast as his lips kissed down to the tiny bit of cleavage revealed by the simple sundress she wore.

Her heart was beating fast—he could feel it against his hand, against his lips. And he was so hard, so desperate for her. He’d wanted her from the first moment he’d seen her, then more and more with each minute he spent with her. She’d captured him completely, but he knew from the way she surrendered in his arms that she felt the same way. That she was ready.

But then she pushed away, and all of his hopes shattered like so much broken glass.

“Kelsey?”

She stepped back, breathing hard. “I want to—I do. But I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

“You should,” he insisted, even though he knew he was being a selfish prick. He should be telling her it was okay, it didn’t matter. But he wanted. Oh, dear God, he wanted. “Kelsey, I love you.”

The words escaped before he could think about them, and even though they were true, he hated himself for saying them. He didn’t want to force her. Didn’t want to use bullshit emotional blackmail. And he damn sure didn’t want her to think he was saying pretty words just to get her in bed.

But that’s what she thought—he was certain of it. Because she turned away to the back wall as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Fuck. He’d done it. He’d gone and ruined the best thing ever.

He was in the process of brutally kicking his own ass when she faced him again, a fierce determination burning in her eyes.

And when she started to unbutton her sundress, all he could see was her. All he could imagine was the feel of her skin against his.

All he could think was that she loved him, too.

But he was an idiot, of course. A goddamn fool.

Because he didn’t have the slightest clue that a night that looked like heaven was going to end up turning into hell.