Much to Summer’s displeasure, she woke to the words “got a situation” and “it’d be better if you could take over.” It took her about thirty-eight seconds to realize she was the problem her lover was working on getting rid of.

It would’ve been very Sopranos-like, if Chase hadn’t been busy arranging her care—he actually used that phrase, as if she was a baby who needed a sitter—rather than setting up her execution. Her chest hurt as much regardless.

She burrowed her face into the pillow and tried to settle her rampaging pulse. All she had to do was play it cool until he went to his appointment and then she was getting the hell out of Dodge. No more of this not bringing her own car stuff. She’d fallen into some bad habits with him in a few short weeks. Time to rectify her mistakes.

If he wanted to hand her off, that was fine. No problemo. She didn’t need a bodyguard, period, but since she’d decided to tell her best friend everything, she knew having one would be a part of her life for the foreseeable future. Cass would insist on it, and if she was being honest, she liked the feeling of security it gave her to have someone with her at her shows. She just didn’t know what it would be like if that person was Jax rather than Chase.

She’d soon find out.

“Yeah, I have to go. I’ll have her back home this afternoon.” He lowered his voice, and to compensate, Summer deepened her scowl. Awesome. He thought she was senile along with clueless. Before he’d been talking loudly enough to wake the dead, and now he turned down the volume? “You think you can swing by her place, maybe soften the blow a little? I don’t want to get into all of it here.” He chuckled and she dug her nails into her palm while imagining digging his hair out at the root. “Nah, man, nothing like that. We’re cool. She’s a great chick. You’ll see. Well, yeah, sure, she can be a little emo. She’s a girl, you know?”

A growl slipped out before Summer slammed her knuckles against her mouth. Emo? She’d show him emo.

Forget the hair on his head. Not nearly painful enough. She’d pull out the hair around his dick.

By the time he got off the phone, after a few more hearty man chuckles, she was ready to spit. But she kept her eyes closed and her form relaxed while she pretended to be dreaming the sleep of the fully orgasmed—a state miles better than fully caffeinated, but much harder to achieve.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” He nudged her shoulder. “You awake?”

She mumbled something that was supposed to sound like no, still sleeping but really meant go to hell, asshole.

“Okay then, get some rest. You’re probably still tired.” Then as an afterthought, accompanied by yet another throaty chuckle, he added, “I did wear you out last night.”

Nope, not dick hair. Nose hair. Pulled out with flaming tweezers.

She made a snuffling noise and he shuffled off to get ready. A few moments later, he returned with what smelled like a travel mug of coffee. “Man, you’re really out, huh? I’d wanted to say goodbye, but I guess not. Probably better if you don’t see me when I’m tied up in knots like this. Ah, fuck it.” He blew out a breath then shocked the heck out of her by leaning over to press his warm, coffee-scented lips to her forehead. “See you later.”

Tears sprang into her eyes and pissed her off. At least they didn’t fall until the apartment door had closed behind him.

“Sugar.” Screeching that particular curse word substitute didn’t do anything but make her hungry, so she rolled on her back and screamed out her frustration at the ceiling. Why did he have to be so annoying? And so sweet? He’d kissed her goodbye, and God, she’d never wanted anything more than to stay in his warm sheets and wait for him to return. To listen to every detail about his doctor’s appointment before pulling off the T-shirt of his she wore and making him feel better with every inch of her naked body.

But that was a fairy tale. Little Red Riding Hood had nothing on the yarn they were spinning.

Maybe he couldn’t decide if he wanted her as a lover or as a friend or as a client, but she could. She wasn’t going to risk more than she could afford to lose.

She sat up in bed and pushed her hands through her tumbled hair. On a chair next to the bed sat the neat pile of her clothes, all nicely folded. On top sat a single foil-wrapped butterscotch candy, the kind he’d slipped her a few times as a kid. Her mom had been militant about her never having sugar and Chase had hooked her up in secret.

He’d remembered. And that made her sniffle harder.

A fuzzy recollection of her crying and Chase holding her teased the edges of her brain. Oh, man, had she had one of her dreams again last night? The memories of her father’s death had mostly faded with the passing years, but when she was stressed, they loved to show up in the form of nightmares. That was one of the reasons she rarely spent the night with guys. She hadn’t even thought of that last night though. After her show, then dressing room sex and Chase’s revelation about his arm, she’d been way too preoccupied. And now he’d probably seen her bawl like a baby.

Yep, that would definitely go miles to proving to him that she was a confident woman who didn’t need care. Maybe he even figured she’d cried to try to manipulate him, rather than because she’d been dazed and half asleep and caught in the memory of the worst day of her life.

Shaking it off, she stuck the candy in her purse and dressed quickly, not wanting to spend any more time in Chase’s apartment than she absolutely had to. She fished out her phone and dialed a car rental place, then made arrangements to pick up a car two hours later. That would give her enough time to get to a church service—at the same church she and Chase had attended a few weeks ago—then make her way to the car rental place.

Hell, maybe she should have just taken an Uber back upstate but a rental was probably cheaper considering the distance. It was definitely more convenient, even if driving in the city was a horror show.

Under six hours later, after drinking enough coffee to hype up a monkey and suffering through several wrong turns on her trip home—despite using GPS—she threw back her shoulders and walked into Triple Scoop. She had on her cute little brown and pink uniform with the short skirt that she’d insisted on buying over Cass’s more sedate choices, and the hot, majorly built guy leaning over the ice cream case to talk to Cass turned and gave her a leisurely once-over. When he glanced back at Cass, she was frowning.

Hmm. Interesting.

But since Summer already had one guy problem, she wasn’t looking for optional add-ons. Besides, she recognized this particular man, and from the way he and Cass were currently eye-balling each other, he had previous commitments as well.

“Jax,” Summer said brightly, wishing he’d been a little more tardy. She’d have to remember that he and Chase were punctual Peters. Her fault for not realizing she’d get lost multiple times on the way back home. “It’s so nice to see you again.” She strode forward and shook his hand. “Would you mind watching the counter for five minutes while I borrow Cass?”

Cass’s frown grew. “Jason doesn’t have counter experience. And why do you need to borrow me anyway?”

“Can’t you call me Jax?”

“No. I don’t call my brother Deuce either. Those are childish names.”

“Well, yeah, we were kids when we gave them to each other.” Jax’s amiable grin didn’t seem to improve Cass’s chilly mood. Which was pretty weird, since Cass could make friends with a cockroach. And practically had in the past, considering some of her ex-boyfriends. For as sweet as she was, Cass had horrible luck with men.

Summer sighed. Even worse than her own, current predicament notwithstanding.

“You’re no longer kids.”

“True, but by now, they’re just our names.” Jax glanced around the empty shop. “And you have no customers, so I’m pretty sure I can manage the counter for a few while you and Summer have a confab in the back.”

“Five minutes.” Cass removed her apron and gestured for Summer to follow. “Thank you, Jason,” she said almost as an afterthought.

“Jax,” he called before Summer pulled the swinging door to the back room shut behind them.

Cass sat at her desk and raised one perfectly arched red eyebrow. She looked like she’d stepped out of Irish Models Weekly, all porcelain skin, sharp green eyes and hair the color of a fire truck. She also had the temper the Irish were famed to have, though she usually tried to keep it under wraps. But whoa, when Cass got pissed, watch the hell out.

Summer wondered if Chase was the same. He was usually as even-tempered as they came. Nothing much seemed to ruffle the guy. He just bulldozed until he got his way.

It was time she took a page out of her lover’s—former lover’s—book.

“What is this—?”

“I slept with Chase.” When Cass broke her rigid posture and sagged in her chair, Summer charged ahead. “It wasn’t planned, and it’s not going to happen again. I thought you should know. Oh, and I’m launching a singing career and no one knew about it but him, so he was my bodyguard for a few weeks but that’s all over now. I’ll probably end up with Jax.” Summer grabbed a spare apron off a hook. She’d forgotten hers yet again. “That’s all I had to say. Let’s get back to work.”

“Hold it,” Cass said as Summer turned toward the door. “What do you mean you’ll end up with Jason?”

Summer bit her lip and pivoted to face her best friend. And boss. Important not to forget that little tidbit. Since she’d expected her best friend to lead with Summer’s irresponsible sexcapades, she did a double take. Cass hadn’t asked about her singing. Not about her sleeping with Cass’s brother. She’d asked about Jax.

Cass gripped her elbows and leaned forward. “Well?”

“Jax and Chase are starting a bodyguard agency together. Chase started it but he invited Jax…or commandeered him, I’m not really sure. Anyway, Chase shoved me off toward his partner so he wouldn’t have to deal with us having sex.” Amazing how just stating that again in clear, crisp terms reminded her that she shouldn’t care about Chase’s women issues. If he couldn’t even man up enough to rationally discuss her security needs—that he had foisted upon her in the first place—because he was so afraid of being consumed by her fearsome desire for more scream-worthy sex, he clearly didn’t deserve her consideration.

If she’d ever had time for a guy who needed to grow up, it wasn’t now.

“So my brother is a bodyguard. As is Jason. And you’re a singer.” Cass smiled faintly. “You do have a lovely voice.”

“Thank you.” She would not get choked up right now. Would not. “Why aren’t you more shocked about me and Chase? I mean, it’s not an actual thing. Only once. But still.”

“You had me pack white chocolate sauce.”

“Huh?” The memory filtered into her consciousness and she kept from blushing by reliving that afternoon in her living room in all of its magnificent glory.

Ah, yes. The white chocolate sauce.

Cass shook her head, sending her long wand earrings into a twirl. “Shutters? You and Chase? The white chocolate enhanced sauce? I’m not that stupid, Sum. Part of me wondered if maybe you’d bought it for another guy. Hoped, probably. I don’t think I was ready to go there yet. You and Chase?” She shook her head again.

“It’s not that weird.” Summer sounded defensive even to her own ears.

“Never mind that right now. What do you sing?”

Summer rubbed her nose in a probably futile attempt to stave off the perennially leaky valves behind her eyes. “Rock and country mostly, with some pop thrown in. And folk.”

“No gospel?”

“Probably some influence, here and there. I write my own songs too. Not all of them. I also do covers.” She thought of “I Love Rock and Roll” and her cheeks heated. “You’re not mad?”

“That you sing? No.”

“What about the danger?”

“Do you sing naked or something?”

Summer had to laugh. Maybe her best friend was more open-minded than she’d given her credit for. “No. It’s just that sometimes I’m singing in places you might not like.” When Cass didn’t reply at first, she rushed ahead. “I remain committed to my job here. My singing won’t interfere with that, I promise.”

Cass sighed and rubbed her hand over her eyes. Her chunky bangle bracelet slid down her wrist, disappearing under the sleeve of her uniform shirt. She did not wear a cute short skirt like Summer’s, but starched pants. Summer couldn’t remember the last time Cass had worn a skirt.

Or looked so darn tired.

“I never doubted your commitment to Triple Scoop. Now, please, back to where we were.” Cass circled a pale, mauve-tipped finger. “Places like where?”

“Um, Canada, but that was only one time.”

“Canada?”

“The club was in a very nice province. Very safe,” she stressed. “And also New York.”

“Well, yes, we live in New York.”

“No, the city.”

“How many times?”

Yeah, this might get sticky. “Uh, maybe thirty?”

Cass reached for her ubiquitous bottle of water, uncapped it and drank. After approximately two sips, she capped it again, set it down and turned blazing eyes on Summer. “Who is your new best friend?”

“What?”

“First you tell me you slept with my brother. My brother who will nail anything that moves, then nail it again for good measure. If you suspected things were heading that way, why didn’t you say something? Or ask me for advice or, hell, I don’t know, tips?” She wrinkled her nose. “Never mind that last part. Ugh. Disgusting. Anyway, my point is, you did not call me before this event, nor after—”

Summer held up a hand. “Technically I did call you after.” She flushed. “It happened last night.”

But Cass was on a roll. “Then you tell me you’re singing all over the country and even in foreign ones. And Chase knows. Not me, your supposed best friend, but my brother, the nailer of all women everywhere.”

“Can you stop repeating that? I get the point.” Summer rubbed her hands up and down her cold arms. The sleeves of her uniform shirt weren’t doing much to alleviate the chill in the back room, and she’d forgotten a jacket. And her apron.

And her brain, if she’d been dumb enough to sleep with Chase, the so-called bad boy of the major league. So what if it had been the best sex of her life? Clearly every gut instinct that told her there was more to him than everyone said—including him—had to be wrong. He was bad.

She wanted to be bad. She wanted him again. God.

“Though, honestly, I don’t see him that way. I think he’s…misunderstood. Even by himself.”

Cass rolled her eyes. “You did not just say that.”

Yes, she had. Though Summer knew she’d probably never turn Chase into a devoted boyfriend—not that she wanted to, necessarily—her heart was sending out a constant busy signal to her brain’s distress calls. Apparently when she’d opened her legs last night she’d also abandoned her last shred of sense.

“Hear me out. Chase told me the same thing, that he only sleeps with women once, blah, blah, blah. But I gotta say, he hasn’t been like that with me. Not about the sex,” she added at Cass’s impervious look. “But in general. He’s so thoughtful and caring most of the time and he’s been genuinely concerned about my wellbeing. He even…” She let out a breath and crossed her arms to ward off her best friend’s steely-eyed gaze. “I have nightmares sometimes. About that day at the dry cleaners.” Cass’s face immediately softened. “Sometimes I wake up crying. I think—no, I’m pretty sure I did last night. And he held me. That’s basically all I remember. His arms around me, his voice. I’m not sure what he said, but it didn’t really matter.”

Yet she’d walked out on him that morning, because he’d tried to fob her off on Jax. Probably not because he didn’t want her—he didn’t want to want her, and that was a vital difference. If she let his own self-perceived limitations shut them down before they even had a chance, then she was no better than he was. He needed someone who believed enough in how inherently good he was to prove it to him.

She wasn’t adept at the whole relationship thing either. And they had so much history. The idea of walking down Main Street in Yardley while everyone snickered about her boyfriend straying at the first opportunity didn’t sit well. And that was if she even managed to convince him he could be decent boyfriend-material. If he ever consented to try.

Cass picked up her water again, then set it down without drinking. “He’s very sweet. I love my brother, you know that. I also love you. And I wish I thought he was capable of—”

As the door to the back room swung open, Summer turned to face a glowering Chase. “So do you make a habit of leaving a man’s bed with no warning or am I special?”

The flush that spread up her neck into her cheeks absolutely pissed Summer off. Liberated women didn’t blush. “Last I checked you don’t own me.”

“Check again.” Her eyes widened as he strode forward and gripped her upper arms as gently as a baby bear cradling a cub. But with just as much subtle, undeniable force. “I was worried about you. I knew you didn’t have your car. You didn’t even leave me a note, for fuck’s sake.”

“I texted you,” she muttered, ducking her head as her embarrassment turned to shame. She’d been annoyed at him for the whole Jax thing, but in retrospect, that hadn’t been the best way to handle it. Still, she was an adult and—

And she was really getting tired of singing the same old song, even in her own head.

“Saying ‘I had to go, see you later,’ is not an adequate explanation. What?” Summer looked up at Chase’s indignant tacked-on question, only to realize he was staring over her shoulder at Cass. “You have a problem with me seeing your friend?”

Uh, say what?

Cass rose from the desk and cast her brother a cool look. “Are you actually seeing her, Chase? Maybe you should think about that.” She strolled out without giving him a chance to answer, the door swinging shut behind her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chase demanded.

With one question from Cass, Summer was right back in the same well of despair she’d been in before. Chase’s territorial routine did not equate to a basis for a caring relationship. She had to be careful about not seeing things that weren’t there. The dream she’d nurtured for years would sustain her, as long as she didn’t get sidetracked.

Yeah, he needed someone to believe in him, which she did with her whole heart. She cared about him deeply. Always had, always would. That didn’t mean she should open up her chest and invite him to start doing wheelies on her vital organs.

“How do I know what Cass meant?” Summer nudged him away, far enough that she could try to catch her breath. She shoved her hands through her hair, belatedly remembering she’d braided it. Escaped curls spilled around her face. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left when I did, but I was supposed to work this afternoon, and I wanted to talk to Jax. Why delay the inevitable?”

He stepped closer and smudged his thumb over her cheek. “Is this about last night?”

Her throat tightened. “I told her we had sex.”

“I’m not talking about that, and I figure she probably suspects as much considering I mentioned you were in my bed.”

“You don’t care?”

“Of course I care. She’s my sister, and her opinion of me matters. Do I like that she’ll add this to my list of fuckups? Hell no. But what can I do?” His thumb slid lower to the curve of her jaw, still rubbing lightly. “Besides, right now I care about you more.”

That word care seemed to be popping up all over the place. In her head, from his mouth. It felt so inadequate to describe the storm of emotions he created inside her with a look. A touch. “Since when?”

“Summer.”

His quiet admonition made her sigh. “What happened at the doctor?”

He dropped his hand. “I’d rather not—”

“So you chased me up here to demand answers from me while not giving any yourself?”

It was his turn to sigh, though he craned his neck to stare at the ceiling while doing so. “He offered me another couple of names of people to see, but the PT isn’t working. I don’t want to live my life on medication. What’s the difference between that and alcohol?”

“There’s a big difference.” She reached out and grasped his arm, rubbing gently. “What about surgery?”

“That’s an option.”

“You’re still considering it?”

“I am.”

From the strained set of his jaw, he didn’t want to be. She cupped his elbow, her fingers moving in slow, tender circles. Trying to soothe without words. Instead he tensed even more.

“You have to protect your dreams,” she murmured. “They’re worth any risk.”

“Show me one worth it, then we’ll talk.”

The hard glint in his eyes killed the response in her throat. He wasn’t talking about her, she knew that logically. The rest of her refused to listen to reason.

Destroying his own sense of hope was one thing. That was his choice, as sad and disheartening as it was. But if the day came that his bitterness spilled over and he attacked her dreams—

A knock came at the door and she hissed out a breath. For pity’s sake, it was like Grand Central Station in that back room. “Yes?” she called.

“Sorry to interrupt, kids.” Jax sauntered inside and gave them a relaxed smile. The patterned scarf he wore drooped down his bullish chest, giving him a sort of comical look while not diminishing his hotness factor in the slightest. Which Chase seemed well-aware of as he glanced between Jax and Summer with an obvious scowl. “Just figured I should talk to Summer about the plan at her next show, considering her boss is getting mighty antsy out here about not having her countermate at her side.”

“I am not!” came Cass’s distant reply.

Jax only smiled more widely as he came up behind Summer and set his broad hands on her shoulders. She stiffened, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or care. “You don’t mind if we talk a little business, right, Chase?” He gave her a squeeze.

Chase’s scowl turned into a glare centered on Jax’s hands. “What do you need to talk about that I can’t listen to?”

“Chase, I need you a sec.” Cass appeared in the door holding a giant vat of ice cream. “I ordered this new sample tub and I can’t open it. Can you help?”

“Bring it here.”

“Can’t. Too heavy.” Out the door she went into the main shop.

Chase stalked to the door and glanced back accusingly at Jax and Summer as if he expected them to be in some state of undress. “I’ll be right back.”

Jax waited until Chase had gone to speak close to Summer’s ear. “You almost have him.”

“Huh?”

“He called me practically frantic about you, wondering if I could come by and talk to Cass, see if she’d heard from you. But casually. He didn’t want to set off Cass’s suspicions about you two. I’m guessing between when I told him you’d contacted me to set up an appointment and when he showed up here, he decided he didn’t give a fuck.” Jax shifted her to face him. “This is a good thing.”

“Is it?” She couldn’t make sense of anything at the moment. Fatigue and confusion and frustration hazed her brain. “He worries about me. I’m like Cass’s kid sister—”

Jax waved that off and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Tell me what shows you have coming up and we’ll devise a plan.”

“For my security?”

Jax’s mouth ticked up. “Among other things.”

For a second, hope bloomed. She wasn’t like Chase. She wanted to believe a pot of gold existed at the end of every rainbow, even the ones that were almost smudged away after the rain. A bleak, colorless world held no appeal for her. If she lost what she’d always wanted, yes, it would hurt. It was supposed to.

Losing Chase hurt, though she’d barely ever held him. And here was Jax, holding out a bag of gold doubloons. She could see the mirth and the mischief brimming in his eyes. God, she ached to scheme with him. But she couldn’t risk so much again right now, not when she’d already laid so much of herself on the line. She could only chase one fruitless dream at a time.

“Don’t you want to hear my grand plan?” Jax shifted from foot to foot as if he couldn’t keep still. “It might help both of us, if we play our deuces right.”

That snagged her attention. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if you were to act all friendly-like toward me, and I did the same, maybe Chase would see the error of his ways.” He tugged on a loose thread on her sleeve and her sense snapped back into place.

“No. I’m not playing games. If he can’t decide that he wants me on his own, it’s better we’re not together.” She drew her shoulders back. See, her resolve was already strengthening. “I’m fine being single. With my career—both of my careers—I don’t have time for silly entanglements.” Or wild, sheetrock-cracking sex.

“Glad to hear it. But if you change your mind, you know where I am.” He strolled out, whistling.

It was only after he’d left that Summer realized he’d never mentioned how his grand plan could benefit him.

The same day Chase lost—okay, gave away—his first client, he gained his second, a spoiled heiress with a tendency toward rampant paranoia. She’d found the ad Chase had placed online the week before and insisted she needed his assistance 24/7. He’d swiftly negotiated down from that, but he still found himself spending way too many hours standing around Macy’s and toting shopping bags. Toting freaking bags, like some well-paid bellhop.

“Chase,” Anastasia whined the following week when she caught Chase fixating on a poster tacked to a tree in Queens. The Palladio was hosting a New Faces Talent night, and who was the first one listed on the sheet? Sunny Z. Looking more beautiful and happy than any woman had a right to.

That would be her first show with Jax at her side instead of him. He shouldn’t think about it. He was the one who’d shuffled her off to Jax’s care.

Damn, he missed her.

She hadn’t called since that day at Triple Scoop. Since the morning she’d rolled out of his bed and strolled out of his life, though he’d given her a nudge. Maybe more than one.

This was the best thing for both of them, especially her. Now if only he could stop thinking about that frigging dressing room table, and the way she’d asked—no, told—him to go down on her. The way she’d smelled and tasted…

Chase’s groin tightened in concert with his grip on the shopping bag in his left fist. Right on cue, pain lanced through his elbow. If he hadn’t grabbed the bag with his other hand, he would’ve dropped it.

“Chase. Are you listening?”

“Dammit,” he muttered, turning toward Anastasia. “What now?”

She pressed her ample cleavage against his biceps and pointed up the street toward the pet shop. “I saw him,” she said in a stage whisper, shivering so violently that her wild blond hair brushed his skin.

“Saw who?”

“The man who’s been following me.” She gripped Chase’s arm way too close to the elbow and he had to smother a grimace. “Please, can we go now?”

He didn’t think for a moment that someone was following her, but she was a nice, mostly lucid woman who’d been spooked by an attempted burglary in her upscale apartment the previous year. His hope was that if she started to feel safer while in his presence, then maybe that feeling would extend to the rest of her life. He didn’t know if that would actually happen. It wasn’t as if he was a shrink.

Hell, he needed a shrink himself, probably. But at least he’d begun regularly attending AA meetings again, to the tune of four times a week. Whatever got him through the night.

Without Summer.

He had another doctor’s appointment this afternoon, again with Dr. Jensen. The doctor had returned from his trip and Chase had scheduled the appointment not to discuss a new medication and therapy regime, but to start the path to surgery. Every time he wavered he thought of the weakness he’d felt that night holding Summer in the dressing room. Somehow that seemed like the cruelest blow of all, that in the midst of what should’ve been one of the best moments of his life—and still had been anyway—he’d had to face how fallible he’d become. Accepting he probably wouldn’t get better without the operation felt like failure.

But he was facing the situation. And this time, he wouldn’t chicken out.

He reached up and grabbed the flyer, stuffing down the momentary guilt at taking an advertisement for Summer’s show. She deserved something fancier than colored paper tacked up on a tree and crowds of drunk, screaming lechers who all wanted a piece of her for the price of a cover charge.

She would get there, of that he had no doubt. And he’d see it, one way or the other.

“Let’s go,” he said to Anastasia, shoving the folded flyer in his back pocket carefully, making sure it didn’t tear.

Later he’d take it out and study her face when he didn’t have witnesses. So he could remember, and wallow with his ice cold…water. Then, when he couldn’t take any more, he’d come back to the Palladio and creep in the back door to watch her from the shadows.

He’d become a bodyguard and a stalker in one month. Pretty damn impressive.