Gabi combed her hair behind her ears and focused harder on the breakfast menu. Blake’s heated stare was distracting. She could feel it on her skin, across her breasts, between her thighs. Bloody hell, she’d had breakfast at this place more times than she could recall, yet for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what they served.

Lifting her gaze, she found his eyes focused on her cleavage—her necklace, but it still made her skin ignite. She cleared her throat. No response.

“Blake?”

“Hmm?” Slowly his focus lifted.

She grinned at him, and he hit her head-on with an arrogant smirk. Damn her, she loved that smirk. It matched the bad boy persona he hid behind so well.

“Do you want a drink?” Getting up to place their drink order would stop her from mentally stripping him of his black tank top and taupe cargo pants.

He’d made love to her in the early hours of the morning. Again in the shower when they awoke. Parts of her body were tender from overuse and still she craved more.

He shook his head. “I’ll get the drinks. You stay here.”

“No.” She pushed from her chair and stepped to the side of the table. “It’s fine. I’ll get them.”

There were a heap of cafes in the area, so she’d cringed when Blake insisted on coming to the one pub that served breakfast. He’d said he remembered her stories about their huge hangover cure meals and needed to see what the fuss was about. She’d wanted to go somewhere quiet, more intimate—a place where alcohol didn’t line the walls behind the bar.

Blake frowned, glancing over his shoulder. She followed the path of his gaze to the spirit bottles. When he turned back to study her, she scrounged around in her handbag, busying herself.

He grabbed her hand, stilling her movements. “Gabi, you know I don’t have a problem with alcohol, right?”

The raw emotion in his tone made her throat dry. Slowly, she dragged her attention back to his face and pressed her lips together at the shame in his eyes.

“Angel, my problem was with coke. Only coke. I stopped drinking because my drug use tended to revolve around being drunk and I don’t like the reminder.”

She nodded. “I know. I just…” She shrugged and readjusted the shoulder strap of her lemon sundress—apparently Tammy’s idea of appropriate clothing involved anything with easy access to Gabi’s underwear. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. As much as we’ve talked about it online, I’ve never been around you to see the effect it has.” Her voice was faint, each word grating over raw memories. She couldn’t help recalling the experiences with her brother when he was at the height of his addiction. Blake deserved more respect than that. He wasn’t like Greg, nowhere near it. “My brother’s eyes would glaze over at the slightest reminder of drugs or alcohol. I don’t want to put you in that position.”

Blake pushed his chair out and tugged her down to sit on his lap. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He kissed her lips and placed his hand at the low of her spine. “I’m not your brother, and you don’t have to worry about my issues anymore, OK? They’re over. They have been for a long time.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into his body, resting her head against his shoulder. “I know. I’m just edgy, I guess. I always get like this around my birthday.”

He kissed her forehead and wrapped his other arm around her waist. “I hate that you worry about me. I’ll never go back there.”

They sat in silence while her insecurities ate away at her. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Blake. It was the distrust her brother had earned that rubbed off on her. Greg promised too many times that he was fine, that he could fight temptation. And yet five years ago, on her birthday, he’d overdosed and ended up on life support, dying four days later.

“Do you speak to her often?” The question came from nowhere. She hadn’t even felt the words brush her lips. After all this time, the memory of Blake’s ex still hovered at the back of her mind. When they first started communicating online, he’d told her about the temptation associated not only with drugs, but with Michelle Clarkson herself. Back then, the woman had been alluring in every way imaginable—beautiful features, great body, wealth, and popularity. Gabi didn’t blame him for falling for the actress. If Gabi was that way inclined, she probably would’ve given the woman a crack, too.

He stiffened at her question, and she straightened to look him in the eye.

“Not willingly,” he murmured.

She frowned, endeavoring to suppress the mix of jealousy and distaste toward the woman who dragged Blake into the world of drugs. “What does that mean?”

He squeezed her tighter, and she noticed the way his skin paled at her question. “She calls sometimes, whenever the band’s in the spotlight, usually. I’ve learned to screen my calls and delete her messages without listening to them.”

Gabi snuggled back against his chest, not wanting to announce her insecurity. Michelle would always be a part of his life—a big part of his past, anyway. And although Gabi no longer saw the beauty in the heiress’s features, she wasn’t certain if Blake did.

“When was the last time?” She kept her voice low, masking the way her body vibrated with dread. Each passing second compounded her anxiety, until it was a tight ball in her stomach. She concentrated on the way his heart pounded through his chest and closed her eyes, willing him to respond.

“Last night,” his voice was a whisper.

Her heart stopped. “What? When?” She sat up straight to look at him. “Before you came to the club?”

He winced and shook his head. “No. After we were together.”

Bile rose in her throat, and she grabbed at the charms on her necklace, working them back and forth to occupy herself and ease the jealousy taking hold. She had nothing to worry about. Blake loved her. He’d said so last night. After all they’d been through, all the trust he’d given her, all the skeletons he’d revealed, the least she could do was trust him.

“She was the one that called before I fell asleep?”

He paused with his arm still snaked around her waist. “Yeah.”

And he’d answered. She’d heard him say hello before she drifted off.

Gabi gave a shaky nod and pushed from his lap. Plastering a smile on her face, she turned to face him. “So, how about that drink? What would you like?”

She would appreciate a shot of vodka right about now. Even scotch would do. The burn would take her mind away from Michelle. She wouldn’t beg for a play-by-play recount. If he didn’t want to talk about it, that was fine. She could deal. No problem.

He grabbed her hand and entwined their fingers as he brought it to his lips. He peered up at her, his pain clearly evident in the dark depths of his eyes. “You have nothing to worry about, angel. I don’t want anything to do with her.”

She would probably believe that if she didn’t know every intimate detail of his relationship with his ex. He’d been in love. His first love, and that wasn’t something you easily forgot.

Gabi nodded, this time with more enthusiasm. She needed to step away, to take a breath and put things into perspective. He was here with her. She had to remember that.

“I know.” Her voice was upbeat, and still, he winced. He was too perceptive for his own good. “So did you want orange juice with breakfast? I’ll place the order for our meals while I’m at the bar.”

* * *

The guilt at withholding information on Michelle burned Blake’s throat. He could see Gabi’s anguish, could sense her anxiety. Damn it, her hands were even shaking. Cutting the conversation short seemed like the only way to stop the carnage. He’d kept that part of his life from her for years. Not that it was a secret; he just didn’t see the point in worrying her unnecessarily. Michelle’s calls were a nuisance, nothing more, and for once, he wanted to fix his own problems, without dumping it on Gabi.

“Juice, thanks,” he answered.

Trust him to fuck up every moment they spent together. It came naturally. His karma cycle struggled to cope with too much of a good thing and liked to throw life bombs at him wherever possible.

“OK, I’ll be back in a minute.”

He dropped her hand and swiveled in his chair to watch her leave. Christ, he loved her, from those cute little sandals, all the way up her smooth, toned legs and beyond. Inside and out, every inch was made for him.

“Hey, Gabi,” he called when she reached the bar.

She turned to face him, along with the female bar attendant and numerous people on surrounding tables. Her smile was sweet and sparkled in her eyes this time, instead of the fake tilt of her lips she’d sported for the last five minutes.

He grinned at her. “I love you.”

He blocked out the murmurs from strangers and focused exclusively on Gabi. Her eyes widened, glinting in the fluorescent light. Her cheeks lifted, darkening those beautiful, kissable lips. Before she could reply, he winked and pivoted in his chair to face the table, giving her his back. He wasn’t looking for a response. His work here was done.

By his estimation, he’d hit her punk-ass love declaration rules out of the ballpark. Just try and tell me that one didn’t count, little miss.

Two minutes later she returned with their drinks, slid into her chair, and rewarded him with her dazed expression.

“So, did that pass the rules and regulations?” He raised a brow and reached for his drink.

Her eyes were glowing, glazed with what he hoped was happiness. “Ah…yeah.” She nodded in quick jerks and fumbled with her straw before taking a large draw of O.J. “That one definitely counts.”

The heavy lump of heat in his chest felt better than anything he’d ever experienced before. He loved the physical release of sex, had experienced the consuming bliss that came from a drug high, yet nothing could compare to the clear-headed, emotional paradise currently flowing into every inch of his being.

He reached for her hand, needing to show her by touch what he couldn’t explain with words. Before their fingers met, his phone vibrated in his pocket. A second later, the familiar guitar riff ringtone filled the silence.

Gabi’s face fell, the happiness vanishing from her features as she looked away and cleared her throat.

“It’s probably Mason.” He retrieved the cell from his pants pocket and felt a giddy sense of relief when the band front-man’s name stared back at him from the screen. “Do you mind if I take this?”

She shook her head. “No. Not at all.”

Liar. Fragility had settled into her voice. He couldn’t believe Michelle still had the ability to mess with his life. Hadn’t he paid enough for those sins? Obviously not.

Christ, Michelle hadn’t even been a blip on his radar in the last few years. Her phone call had been bad timing, one of those random connections that she liked to throw his way on a whim…or more accurately—while high. All he could do was look on the bright side. They’d discussed his ex, and he’d learned it’d be a topic to keep to himself in the future. He would never lie to Gabi, however, not mentioning things that he knew would upset her was different.

He pressed connect and raised the cell to his ear. “Hey, pretty boy.”

“Hey yourself, asshole,” Mason replied. “How’s the heat down under?”

He glanced at Gabi, her gaze still downcast. “Not too bad,” he lied, knowing Mason wasn’t talking about the weather.

“Not too bad? That sounds like a fucking let down. What’s wrong with her? She doesn’t like the emo look?”

Emo. The jokes never end.

“I’m not fucking emo,” Blake bit back, then let go of his annoyance once he noticed Gabi grinning.

“Yeah, OK, whatever. So, when do we get to meet her?”

He raised a brow. The Reckless Beat guys—not only the band, but the roadies and their manager, Leah—were his family. The only family worth meeting, anyway. Introducing the gang to Gabi would be a big step. One he couldn’t wait to take. “Hopefully soon. We haven’t discussed it yet.”

“Well, get your shit into gear. We’re already in the air.”

“And you’re talking on your cell?”

“Yeah, the naughty flight attendant gave me the all clear if I was quick,” Mason’s tone turned slutty, something Blake didn’t appreciate while he was on the other end of the line.

“That’d be a first. Usually the ladies are pissed at how fast you are.”

“Oh, ha ha ha, very funny pin dick. But no, this lovely lady is very generous.”

“She’s standing right beside you, isn’t she?”

“Totally… Anyway, Mitch and I have something planned in Melbourne tomorrow and we need you there.”

Blake frowned. “What’ve you planned? Mitch didn’t mention anything to me.”

The lead guitarist was the closest thing Blake had to a brother. They usually paired up on tour and spent most of their time sharing suites and sometimes women. That all changed when Mitch’s girlfriend, Alana, entered the picture. Now Blake had the duty of making himself scarce or ramming plugs into his ear canal to stop himself from overhearing all their panted cries to the heavenly father.

“It’s secret squirrel stuff. And you’ve gotta be there.” The phone connection crackled. “Bring yo—girl.”

“You’re cutting out. Can you get Leah to email me the details of our hotel? I’ll try and get a flight to Melbourne tonight.”

Gabi’s head snapped up and the slight crease in her brow deepened. He smiled at her, trying to wordlessly explain that everything would be all right.

“Will do. Catch ya soon.”

Blake ended the call and placed his cell on the table. “How do you feel about a trip to Melbourne?”

“I’d love to…but I have to work tomorrow.”

“You sure about that?” He grinned at her narrowed gaze. “I asked Tammy to arrange for you to get time off work. I never heard back from her though, so you’ll need to check.”

Gabi reached into her handbag. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”

Not even close. He only hoped Tammy had been successful in organizing something with Gabi’s shifts. He wasn’t ready to leave her. He doubted he ever would be.