“Hey, thanks. I have to go. I’m actually at work right now. But I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sounds good. And I am so sorry, Robyn. Seriously. I suck. I should’ve—”
“It’s fine. Promise. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
Him, I mean. I can handle him.
At least I hope I can. Because he’s walking directly toward me.
The brunette stops Dallas and pulls him aside so Jase reaches me first. He gestures to the pyramid of bottles behind me.
“Lookin’ good.”
I smile and smooth the lace dress I’m wearing under my denim blazer. “I’m glad you like it.”
“The display looks great, too,” he adds with a sly smile.
I shake my head and turn just in time to see the brunette glaring at Jase. I’m distracted by the outrage glowing in her eyes so I notice a second too late that Dallas is close enough to recognize me.
Our eyes meet and I wonder for a full minute if this is the movie of my life being shot without my permission.
He looks different than when I saw him at his grandfather’s funeral a couple of months ago. There’s just enough dark scruff on his chin and jaw to make me wonder what it would feel like in the palms of my hands, in the valley between my breasts, and Heaven help me, on the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I would slap some sense into myself if I were alone right now.
Dallas stills completely, the questions clear in his gaze. He has no idea what the hell I’m doing here. Tension ripples tight on both sides of his jaw. He probably thinks he’s having some kind of nightmare.
“Drew here will get a few shots of both of you with the display.” I smile at the freelance photographer that works for Midnight Bay from time to time. “Then he’ll take the VIP shots separately. Just smile and act natural.”
That’s what I’ll be trying to do.
Drew’s been doing this a lot longer than I have. He already has his camera up and is snapping candids. I can only imagine what the shots of Dallas’s face are going to look like.
You’re prepared, Robyn. Dallas isn’t. Brace yourself for him to possibly behave like an ass in five . . . four . . . three. . .
“Robyn? What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t look at all happy to see me. Not that I can blame him.
“Hi, Dallas. It’s nice to see you, too. Now if you’ll just step over to where Jase is standing we can get a few shots of both of you with the—”
“Is this some kind of joke?” he asks low so that only I can hear. I watch helplessly as he looks around as if he expects a film crew to pop out and tell him he’s been Punk’d.
The entire group has turned its attention to us since he hasn’t stepped over to where he should be standing. I take a deep breath and school my features so they remain professionally polite. “No joke. I am here working. Same as you.” I force a tight smile while making deliberate eye contact. I telepathically send him a harsh “We have a job to do, suck it up, you big baby” message but he narrows his eyes and sends one right back. “We will discuss this later.”
He has questions. I’ll probably have to answer them. Honestly.
I am so screwed.
But for now, my career is more important than explaining myself. And our exchange is garnering entirely too much attention. So I usher the guys over to where I need them and Drew takes several pictures. Two different women and one man from local radio stations come up and interview each of them briefly before the fans get to come in. Dallas has a few young girls in his line but Jase’s is never-ending.
Once the dozen or so young women are satisfied with Dallas’s photo and autographs, he walks purposefully over to where I’m hanging back off to the side. His broad shoulders have remained stiff and slightly bowed since the moment he laid eyes on me.
Every inch of my body is alert and aware of just how close he’s standing. I can smell the scent of his sharp, clean cologne and beneath that, masculine soap. There’s always the hint of wood in the air around him, as if that guitar he’s permanently attached to has somehow seeped into his skin.
My mouth waters at the intoxicating aroma that is Dallas so I swallow hard and keep my eyes trained on where Jase is standing smiling with fans, some of whom are crying and others practically groping him. What a strange life these guys lead. I couldn’t imagine part of my job being letting people fall all over me.
“Well, I can honestly say you’re the last person I expected to see here.” His voice is low in my ear, causing a shiver to roll down my spine. “Want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
I answer without looking at him. “I’m not stalking you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I told you. I’m working. I’m an assistant marketing coordinator and promotional relations specialist for Midnight Bay Bourbon. I was on this tour before you were.”
“You just caught me off guard is all.” He clears his throat harshly. His hand falls to a spot that used to be familiar to him—the small of my back—and I feel it like fireworks.
It isn’t quite as startling as it was when Jase placed his unwelcome hand there. Dallas places his hand on my lower back like it belongs there, and my traitorous body welcomes his touch as if it agrees.
This is ridiculous. I’m twenty-three years old—a grown woman. And when a man who hasn’t touched me in years places his hand on my lower back, my bones become blobs of jelly. Damn him. Damn bones.
I fist my fingers in an attempt to return my body to a solid mass. “So you’re not gonna call my boss and request they remove me from this tour?”
“Jesus, Robyn. No.” As I breathe a sigh of relief, he huffs out a breath that tickles my ear. “I know I wasn’t exactly friendly at my grandfather’s funeral. And seeing you here certainly is a surprise. But I won’t interfere with your job. I’m not a complete asshole. Even if I behave like one from time to time.”
My shoulders relax and my body betrays me. It eases backward almost into his arms. His chest brushes my back and I flinch at the contact. This cannot happen.
“You can’t help your true nature.”
Dallas chuckles and it warms my blood to a dangerously high temperature. I have to get away from him. Now.
“Look, I know it’s not ideal, having to see someone from your past intruding on your shiny new future.”
Believe me, I almost add. I’m speaking from experience now because every ounce of confidence I’d mustered about my ability to do my job, to handle this tour, dissipated into thin air the moment I learned that Dallas Walker was the Dallas Lark who had taken my virginity in a pickup truck. Kind of hard to hold on to your sophisticated big-girl dignity around a guy who once helped you search for your underwear on a Chevy floorboard. Okay, more than once.
Dallas gives me a boyish half grin. “We’re both adults here. We can handle this, right?”
I turn and let his ice-blue eyes burn into me. My head says, “Yeah, Robyn, we got this. No worries.” My heart says, “Run. Quit your job and get as far away from him as you possibly can. Immediately.”
I’m so busy listening to my heart and head battle it out that I miss what Dallas says.
“I’m sorry. What?”
I tilt my head and he smiles his sexy half smile that I have no doubt has dropped panties across the nation in epidemic proportions. If it hasn’t already, it will. And I’ll get to watch from the sidelines.
Fantastic.
“I asked if you wanted to get dinner after the show. You know, food, conversation, maybe a discussion about how we go about dealing with this situation.”
My brows lift because I’m confused. This man I’ve kept buried in the back of my past has risen and is standing in front of me asking me to dinner.
I check my internal decision-making faculties.
Head: Sure. Dinner sounds great. Making peace will be good for you. Yay, closure!
Heart: Run. I said run. Why aren’t you running? For fuck’s sakes, run already!