Page 8 of Wilde Nights in Paradise

Jude grinned and started banging out a rocking drum solo on the window. Before he was even half way through “Another One Bites the Dust,” Libby shoved away from her desk. By the time she twisted the lock and yanked open the door, an aura of pissed off all but sizzled the air around her. She had never looked hotter, and his cock took instant notice. Man, this woman could still turn him on like no other, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

She grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him into an empty conference room across the hall from her office.

“What grade are in you in?” she demanded as soon as the door clicked shut behind them. “Second?”

“Fifth. Never grasped the concept of long division and they kept holding me back.”

“Unbelievable.” She pushed out an exasperated breath. “You’re still the same asshole I know and hate.”

“Whoa, now, Libs. Hate? That’s a strong word.”

“So is restraining order. Now are you finished?” She spun away and reached for the doorknob. “Because if you’re done making a fool out of yourself, I’m going back to work.”

Guilt left a bad taste in his mouth. As the woman he once loved to distraction, she deserved better than childishness from him. They were stuck in this less-than-ideal situation together, so why make it more difficult by being a jerk? The end of their relationship hadn’t been her fault—that was 100 percent on his shoulders. And he was okay with that. Mostly.

He caught her hand. “Libs, wait.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Fine. Libby.”

“Assistant District Attorney Pruitt to you.”

His jaw tightened against the barb in her tone. Her coldness toward him shouldn’t hurt. He deserved it and more. But, dammit, it did hurt. “All right, A.D.A. Pruitt, can we start over here?”

Her ponytail flopped as she shook her head. “Not possible.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re…you.”

Another barb, and it cut deeper than the first. “The fuck up.”

“Yes. No.” Sighing, Libby rubbed her eyes under her glasses with the fingers of one hand. “Jude, I’m not the girl I was eight years ago, okay?” Finally realizing he still held her other hand, she shook off his grip and reached for the door handle. “And I don’t want any kind of relationship with you ever again.”

Ouch.

No, he thought and touched the ring in his pocket to anchor himself,not ouch. This had been his goal when he hurt her—but that was supposed to have been all there was to it. Hurt her, move on with his miserable life without her, the end. He never would have guessed the whole nightmare of a situation would come back to bite him in the ass now.

Hand still on the doorknob, Libby stared at him over her shoulder as if she expected some kind of response to her declaration.

“Well,” he said finally, “that’s unfortunate, since your father hired me to be your bodyguard-slash-pretend-boyfriend.”

Did she just go pale? Maybe it was the harsh lighting in the conference room, but it sure looked like her complexion had lost a few shades of color when she spun back to face him. And, damn, there was that surge of guilt again. Even so, he couldn’t tell her any of the whys because the truth would be much more painful than anything he’d done to her.

“W-what about the Marines?” she asked.

“Officially out a month ago.”

“Oh.”

“And seeing as we now have to convince everyone I’m your main man,” he added after a beat of silence, “we need to learn to play nice with each other.”

“Oh,” she said again, apparently at a loss for words.

Another beat, longer this time.

“So,” he prompted. “Can we start over?”

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