Get a grip, girl. Focus on why you came. Izzie Anderson reprimanded herself, when she realized she was gawking. She had forgotten how hot Tristan was.

Time stood still as her eyes glued on his athletic physique, covered in an elegant white dress shirt and dark gray pants. Tristan was about to turn forty, yet he looked barely thirty. That tropical tan gave him a healthy aspect to boost.

His dark blue eyes squinted when his square jaw locked, and his nostrils flared. When the silence stretched between them because her mouth had gone too dry for words, his full lips inched up in a sardonic smile. She watched his pain turn to scorn. Izzie couldn’t bear it. Her voice deserted her as she drew a blank, forgetting the speech she had rehearsed in her head countless times. Her mind got clogged by Tristan’s anguish and her remorse, leaving no room for reasonable thoughts.

His hurt.

Her sorrow.

No atonement.

And how could there be any forgiveness for what she had put him through?

I can’t do this. She fought the urge to bolt. Too much at stake for her to take the easy way out now.

Izzie had expected a cold reception, but the pain darkening Tristan’s eyes did funny things to her. It was such a raw emotion, it left her feeling gutted and exposed. Her sins came back in a rush to haunt her, as if she didn’t already deal with them on a regular basis.

A sudden ringing in her ear stole her balance and Izzie grasped the golden lectern on her left to steady herself, shaking it, and sending the hostess’s papers gliding to the floor.

“I’ve got this.” The soft-spoken brunette squatted to pick up her notes.

Izzie felt her cheeks burn.

Returning her focus to the six-foot-something worth of rage looming in front of her, rational thoughts went out the door, and Izzie felt again like the naïve fifteen-year-old she had once been. Right about the time her life turned an unexpected spin for the better.

Or so she had thought.

Now’s not the time to go there.

Izzie squared her shoulders, recalling why she decided to reach out to Tristan after all those years. She had a mission she couldn’t fail. She’d better bite the bullet. She knew it would be hard facing him, but she didn’t expect to find his wounds still open and festering.

The prolonged, uncomfortable silence was made worse by the way he crossed his strong arms over his broad chest and set his long legs wide apart, as if ready to pounce.

“Well?” His deep voice stirred parts of her she had forgotten existed.

Izzie opened her mouth to reply. No sounds came out, which annoyed her because it was so out of character.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day. Little Miss Isolde Anderson at a loss for words. I’ll be damned.” His irony wasn’t lost on her. When they were kids growing up in North Ranch, they used to argue endlessly about any and all insignificant details. It got worse when they started dating while they were going to Westlake High. Except, then, arguments would end up in hot make-out sessions, when in public, or sweaty mind-blowing sex, if behind doors.

Don’t go there!

Shaking her head to dismiss images of Tristan’s muscled legs tangled with hers, or his strong fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as he drove her wild, Izzie took a deep breath. The memories weakened her knees and made her see things that weren’t there. Like his eyes turning a darker shade of indigo blue, making her think she picked up a flicker of heat in them. The kind of heat they used to generate in the past instead of today’s anger. It was gone before she could be sure. His gaze went back to the cold rejection that chilled her to the bone, despite the sultry tropical air.

Eager to break the silence, she blurted the first thing that came to mind, “How’s Lilly?”

Really Izzie?!

A nerve ticked in his jaw, indicating he agreed that was a stupid thing to say. “Peachy. Thanks for asking.”

He slouched his shoulders when she asked about his mother just as another pained glint flashed in his eyes before the scowl returned to defy her.

Liar, she thought, surprised she could still tell he was hiding something.

She had lost the right to that a long time ago.

She turned her chin up to hide her pain and sighed. “You’re not making this any easier.”

“I wasn’t aware I was supposed to.”

When she lied to him, she also lost the right to expect him to be compassionate. It didn’t matter that she had lied to protect him. He never learned that. He only knew the lie. She didn’t regret that part, the protecting Tristan bit.

It was the right thing to do then.

The only thing to do.

That didn’t make it any easier for her to endure his scorn now.

She landed her dream deal with a record company at thirteen, too inexperienced to realize she was about to start on a path to fame and misfortune. Head over heels in love with her best friend, Izzie thought she could conquer the world as long as Tristan was by her side. And conquer the rock and roll world she did, with him as her partner. Tristan wrote the words that her fans screamed out in packed-full stadiums on sold-out tours around the world. He gave her the confidence she lacked to pour her heart out in every recording session.

He was her rock.

He was her haven.

When Izzie broke him, she lost so much more than his love. She lost her ground.

She needed to convince Tristan she had changed, but how could she ask him to forgive her, when she had never forgiven herself?