Page 33 of The Forbidden Trio

He smiled, a devastating flash of strong white teeth. “You didn’t say you weren’t.”

“Damn it, Cole,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. She wanted to say no, but oh, the storm was coming.

He let out a low chuckle. “Still have to be a little mouthy before you give in. But you know I’ve always liked that about you.”

Oh, they were so not getting into the whole power exchange thing. She’d be lost.

“I can still say no.”

He only smiled, making her want him to kiss her again. And again. And damn it, he had her. For dinner, anyway.

She shook her head. “Okay. Okay. But I’ll meet you. Just tell me where.”

“Come on, Janie girl. You know I’m more of a gentleman than that. There is no way I’m not picking you up.”

She blew out a breath, dropped her arms and turned to grab a pen and a green sticky note from her teak desk. “This is my address.”

He glanced at the note. “Los Feliz. Cool, funky neighborhood. You close to Griffith Park?” “Yes.”

“Nice.”

She raised her chin a few notches. “Yes. It is.”

He leaned in until she could feel his breath warm on her cheek, his voice low. “I understand you being defensive, finding it hard to trust even having a simple conversation with me. I get it, baby. But just for tonight, for what we had between us once, I need you to find a way to let me in. A little, at least.”

She nodded, unable to speak, his scent going through her like a live wire.

It had always been like this. He’d always had this effect on her—rendering her speechless simply by standing close to her. His touch was absolutely devastating. And his scent… God, no man had a right to smell that good.

Another shiver ran through her as she breathed him in. She would see him. She would be open to talking. But she would not let him make her head spin like the teenager who had fallen so hopelessly in love with him.

That’s a lie. You’ve never been able to resist him.

She wished it weren’t true. But that was the main reason she’d never faced him once the divorce papers were signed. Because she knew if she spent ten minutes alone with him—even after the drug and alcohol abuse, even after the nights she’d spent alone wondering where the hell he was, having him come home staggering at six in the morning—turning away from him would be impossible. She wasn’t sure she could do it again.

She was an idiot.

She nodded. “Seven o’clock.”

The storm was coming, all right. She had no idea what kind of damage it might leave in its wake, but she knew she wouldn’t survive it unscathed.

Chapter Two

Cole straddled his bike—his newest, a chopped Harley Sportster Iron 883. He’d had it painted in subtle but wicked-looking flat black—even the pipes—and added the fat Coker tires. A bad-ass ride and a smooth cruiser, perfect for the canyon roads. But today he’d take the shorter route back to his house in the Hollywood Hills. He had a lot to think about before he picked up Janie for dinner tonight.

Janie girl.

Christ, she looked amazing. All that wavy blonde hair escaping the long, heavy braid she kept it in when she did yoga. He rubbed his fingers together, remembering the way her hair had felt between them. Remembering the way it looked, spilling all over the pillows on his bed…

Her eyes were as green as ever. Green as new grass. Green as the pale light of faraway stars. And her body… She had never looked better, every slim curve visible in her yoga pants and tank top. He’d waited out that first year of his sobriety when it was recommended to steer clear of relationships, then a few more years to give her time to heal. Maybe to forgive him. And he’d done fairly well with it until he’d seen her at Sonny’s funeral. Oh hell—who was he kidding? He’d missed her with every fucking cell of his being the entire time. He’d felt so damn raw going there to see her today, but the minute he’d had his hands on her, everything had shifted and he’d gone rock hard. Couldn’t help it. She’d always done that to him, in a way no other woman had before or since.

Shaking his head, he snapped his black Outlaw half-helmet on and started the bike.

He cruised back down the Pacific Coast Highway, the ocean view flying past, the salty wind in his face as the sun rose in the sky. It was going to be a beautiful spring day in La La Land, and for the first time in longer than he cared to remember, he was going to enjoy it.Reallyenjoy it. Because he was seeing Janie tonight. His girl. His only girl ever.

He gunned the engine as he took a left and got onto the 10 East. Traffic was light this morning, which was good. He was anxious to get home and into his studio. There were lyrics in his head, and he knew the music would follow. It was the first time in months he’d been able to come up with something new. He’d been frozen. Burned out. Wanting the music to come, but his muse seemed to have left him. It had been even worse since they’d lost Sonny. These had been some pretty dark days. But the sun was shining again—and that song, that muse, was his Janie girl.

A melody was already beginning to wind its way through his head. A song for Janie. But it was the words that felt important. Only half formed, but still…

---