For the fifth time in as many minutes, I stifled the urge to jiggle my toe or tug on the blouse tucked into my skirt.

I’d never been comfortable in pencil skirts. The high-waisted things were tight on my stomach, scratchy on my legs and prevented me from moving freely. Give me a pair of well worn denim or supple leather pants any day.

The meeting room I sat in looked like any other meeting room: a long table surrounded by high-backed leather chairs with an oversized projector screen on one wall. The room could have been in any number of boring office buildings.

But it wasn’t. This meeting room was in a skyscraper housing Reclaimed Records, one of the most influential music and entertainment companies in the world. They’d started off as a smaller indie record label and exploded with the success of the artists they signed. It was a building I could only ever have dreamed of stepping foot in.

And now, here I was, perched on the edge of one of those leather chairs, anxiously waiting for someone to enter the room.

I didn’t know who that someone was. This meeting had been set up over the phone by a nameless admin assistant who’d been light on the information. All I knew was these people wanted to work with me.

I wasn’t about to let the lack of a few details deter me. Whatever this gig was, I wanted it. I needed it.

The latch on the door handle clicked and the knob rotated. I sat up pin-straight, hands in my lap and turned toward the door. I had to clench my jaw to stop my mouth from dropping as one of the hottest female musicians, both in terms of popularity and looks, strode in with a determined look on her face. Her eyes zeroed in on me, giving me a quick once-over.

“Everly Davis?” asked Cerise Moreau, world famous rock god and lead singer for Cherry Lips.

I stared, stunned, before quickly standing and shaking her hand firmly.

“Yes, I’m Everly,” I replied.

“You look a little shocked,” Cerise said wryly as she took a seat across the table from me.

“I’m sorry,” I flushed. “I wasn’t told many details about this job and I had no idea it was with…”

Cherry Lips.

Oh…

Shit.

All the blood drained from my face. My hands turned clammy.

This job was with Cherry Lips. Which meant…

Just as I half-expected and half-dreaded, seconds later another figure strolled into the room.

He was dressed all in black, tall and lean with a tight t-shirt showing off muscled arms. With his dark eyes and dark hair falling into his face, he might have faded into the background like a shadow.

But the moment he stepped through the door, it was as if a light had shone from the heavens and surrounded his head like a halo, drawing every bit of my attention. I couldn’t look away.

Even as my face turned pale and my heart clenched, I couldn’t tear my eyes from this man.

Julian Woods. Keyboardist for Cherry Lips.

The man who’d shattered my heart into pieces.

When his gaze fell upon me, I didn’t catch a hint of surprise. The only reaction was the twitch in his jaw.

I used to be able to read Julian so well. To others, he had such an impassive expression, but I’d always known what he was thinking and feeling.

Not anymore. That talent had been lost to me long ago.

Julian’s eyes stayed trained as me as he walked into the room and took a seat next to his lead singer.

If Cerise noticed the tension, she didn’t comment on it. She simply leaned forward in her chair and made introductions.

“Everly, this is Julian, my keyboardist. Julian, this is Everly Davis.”

Julian nodded at me. Was he pretending we didn’t know each other? Was I supposed to pretend, too?

I decided to return his nod and not say anything else, even as my heart hammered in my chest.

“Let’s get to it,” Cerise said briskly. “Cherry Lips is working on a new album. Instead of me writing all the songs, this time the others are going to contribute as well. Some of them are looking for outside help. They’re all great musicians, but they don’t have a lot of experience with lyrics. You were one of the names brought forward so we decided to bring you in and see if you were interested.”

She stopped, going silent and staring at me. I assumed her statement had actually been a question.

“Which band members would I be working with?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“This guy, mostly,” she said, jabbing her thumb at Julian.

I turned to him, heartbeat pounding and stomach fluttering.

“You agreed to bring me in?” I asked.

Julian’s dark eyes scanned me up and down, from my sleek, straight, honey blond hair to the bottom button on my blouse tucked into my skirt. This was probably the first time he’d ever seen me in anything so formal. Did he like it? Did he hate it? Did he think I looked good, or did he think it didn’t suit me at all?

Not that his opinion mattered, of course.

Julian slowly trailed that gaze back up to my face, his eyes meeting mine.

“You’re one of several we’ve interviewed,” he replied in low tones. “You come highly recommended.”

Fat chance of that. After all these years and with my original name, I was an unknown, brand new to the music scene as far as anyone else was concerned. And I wanted it to stay that way.

“So here’s the deal,” Cerise said. “You work with Julian and you’ll get songwriting credits and a cut of the royalties. Sound fair?”

More than fair. Royalties from songwriting for Cherry Lips would set me up well, and for a long while, too. I’d be crazy to turn it down.

But working with Julian again, after all these years…

Could I still do it? Could I write a song with a man who’d left me heartbroken and vulnerable?

But I also knew I couldn’t turn it down. I needed this job. Badly.

A sour lump hit my gut.

After all the shit that had gone down, after being blacklisted from the industry, after working so hard to reinvent myself…

This was my chance.

A flutter of panic rose in my stomach.

Maybe my only chance.

“Can I talk to Julian alone?” I asked.

“Sure,” Cerise said. “Makes sense you’d want to get to know the guy you’ll be working with.” She stood from her seat and shook my hand again. “Very nice meeting you, Everly.”

She strode out briskly, leaving me and Julian alone.

We stared at each other. The tension in the room was palpable.

“Why?” I asked bluntly.

The corner of his eyes crinkled. Amusement or displeasure?

“It’s nice to see you again, Ever,” Julian said.

“It’s Everly now.”

“Right.” He scanned me up and down. “I like your outfit.”

That was definitely amusement.

“Can’t wear black leather and mesh to a job interview,” I said.

“Suppose not,” he said quietly. “You have your natural hair. It’s different.”

“Hot pink is passé,” I replied.

“Not wearing those knee-high lace up boots either?”

“Sensible pumps.”

“Hm.”

Julian went quiet. He’d always been quiet. But not around me.

He pushed his chair back and stood up. I did the same, not wanting him looming over me. He came to my side of the table, mere feet away.

Standing this close, I could smell his scent, so familiar and yet long forgotten. Spicy but sweet, with masculine undertones, like whiskey and cinnamon. I breathed in deeply without thinking, wanting more. My head went light. He’d always had this effect on me. Before, I’d loved that heady feeling.

Now, the only thing I felt was heartache.

“I’m serious,” I said. “Why am I here?”

“I need lyrics,” he said. “And we’ve always worked well together.”

“That was before,” I retorted.

Things were different now. Before, Julian and I had great rapport. We’d worked on songs together all the time. When we were on stage, with me singing and him on keyboard, we’d made magic together.

Then Julian had stomped on my heart and left me bruised and bleeding.

He cocked his head at me, eyes guarded, lips pursed. He seemed to be thinking. Finally, he spoke.

“I’d rather it was you. It’s hard for me to…” he trailed off, ears turning red. “This song is supposed to be personal. It’s about my thoughts, my feelings.”

Julian had never been able to open up easily. He wouldn’t want to work with a stranger. Considering all the various ways he’d already opened up to me, there wasn’t anything I didn’t already know about him.

“It’s not just me,” he continued. “The others might ask for help.”

My heart sank. Julian wasn’t the only member of Cherry Lips I’d used to work with.

“Who, exactly?” I asked, needing him to say it out loud.

“Seth.”

Seth Powers. The name brought forth a rage I hadn’t known was still simmering inside me. I thought I’d put this all behind me. Clearly, some old wounds hadn’t been healed.

This whole situation was getting worse and worse.

Not only was I being asked to work with Julian, my ex, but I was also supposed to work with Seth, his best friend.

Seth, the reason behind our band breaking up. The reason why my entire life had been upended and nearly destroyed.

Seth, the man Julian was in love with.