Page 60 of Blind Attraction

Blake shot him a glance before turning back to the computer, his fingers madly tapping the keys. “A friend.”

Riiighhhht.

If Mitch wasn’t shoulder deep in his own dramatic-self-loathing-depression-bubble he would’ve asked more questions.

“Here ya go.”

He grasped the outstretched laptop, placed it on his thighs and stared at the screen while his heart did a drum roll.

“What do you need it for?” Blake reclined into the corner of the sofa, outstretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

Mitch cleared his throat and continued to blink at the computer. “I just…thought I’d play around on the Internet.”

“By Googling Alana, you mean,” Mason added from the kitchen.

He didn’t reply. His friends knew him too well.

“Why don’t you call her?” Mason strode over and sat in front of him on the coffee table.

“I already have.”

“What?” Blake straightened. “When did you do that?”

“What did she say?” Mason asked.

He shrugged, brought up a Google Internet page and typed in Alana’s name. “I hung up.”

They laughed. Assholes.

“You’re a pussy.” Mason pushed from the table and walked back to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “A grumpy ass pussy.”

“I’m not fucking grumpy,” Mitch snapped.

“Umm, you remember the chick who wanted you to sign her tits and you told her to ‘get her skanky ass away from you’?” Blake raised his brows. “I think that constitutes grumpy.”

“And she had a great rack, too.” Mason added.

“So what? I don’t have time for that shit anymore.” He didn’t. Easy women were off his menu. For good. He wouldn’t slum it again, not after Allie.

The search brought up a page full of links containing the words Alana Shelton. He clicked on the top one –My Life in Focus, a photographic journey through my eyes. A pink screen loaded, the title of the blog standing out in bold script. He scrolled down and sucked in a breath at her image on the side bar. The photo was black and white, in a meadow or a playground. She smiled at the camera, her dimples showing, wisps of dark hair framing her beautiful eyes.

Why hadn’t his desire for her faded? He’d depended on it, had gone to sleep every night hoping to wake up anew. But, nope. The hard stone of regret which lodged in his chest the day he said goodbye had grown.

To the size of a fucking melon.

“Damn, she’s hot.”

Mitch pushed Blake away, ignoring the comment. He scrolled further, to the first post that read ‘Moving On’. There were no words, only images. One of Kate in a nightclub, dressed in a sparkly red dress with men on either side of her. Colored lights flashed in the background, people danced.

The next was of Alana, the same guys in the image. Her delicious curves were hugged by a tight pink camisole, her hand clutched a cocktail. He focused on her lips. Her beautiful, full, kissable lips, and tried to ignore the man beside her who had his arm around her waist, his mouth on her cheek.

“If you throw my laptop, Iwillhurt you.”

Shut it, Blake.

“Call her,” Mason sat back on the coffee table and chugged his beer. “Once we finish the promo tour, you’ll have a couple of weeks to catch up with her again.”

A couple of weeks. Mitch scoffed. Weeks would never be enough. He needed more. He needed forever. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an option on the table when his career had him flying around the globe.

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