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“Why aren’t you wearing it? Still?”
She twisted her hand out of his grip. “Didn’t we go over this already? Besides, I’m working.” She stepped into her jeans, hopping to get them up over her ass. She could still feel the phantom fullness from him inside her, and they were already fighting. Typical. She couldn’t take the look on his face.
“Where’s my—” Her apron dangled over her shoulder. “Thank you.” She tied it around her hips and turned to him. His eyes were blazing. “What?”
“You won’t wear my ring, but that’s cool?”
She looked down at the diamond on her right hand. “That’s none of your business.”
“No?”
“No, it really isn’t. We may be married, but we barely know each other. This ring meant something—still means something to me.”
He jerked as if she’d slapped him. He slid his sunglasses on his face, and his Adam’s apple bounced as his jaw firmed. “Right. As if I could ever forget the guy who came before me.”
“We all have a past, Michael. Even you.”
“I don’t wear mine like a shield.”
“No, you just have it plastered on TV, email, and blogs.”
He curled his fingers around the doorknob and pulled it open, slamming it behind him. She growled and slapped the door hard enough that the zing of it vibrated down her arm.
“Dammit.” She pressed her forehead to the door. “Good going, Chloe.” She drew in a deep breath and opened the door. The flash of a camera followed by Lou’s thunderous face from across the bar was the capper to her fucking fantastic day.
Chapter 19
Friday night. The Blue Rhino, Oblivion’s old stomping grounds and Warning Sign’s new ones. And what was he doing?
Texting his wife, who seemed to have no interest in replying.
Hey, in the shit that was his week—not remembering his marriage or the sex that took place in his marital bed, being chased by paparazzi, nearly losing his car to a tow truck company—he’d had one shining spot.
The one where he actually got to have sex with his wife and—gasp—he even remembered it. And it had been sensational. The angels had wept, the stars had aligned, and glittery rainbows had arched across the sky.
Too bad they’d ended their amazing encounter with yet another fight. She’d been wearing another man’s ring when he was inside her, for fuck’s sake.
She wasn’t replying to his texts, which was surprising not at all. The only reason he even had her digits was because she’d added her number to his phone the other night when she typed in her email addy. He’d almost wondered if she’d filled out her info on the digital contact card by habit, because it was hard to imagine her actually wanting him to call her.
Give her a couple orgasms, oh yeah, she could handle that. But call? Not so much.
Now he was backstage at this dive bar that apparently was a big part of the local music scene, stationed in front of an old peeling Oblivion poster while Lila prodded him about his brother. Again.
“I don’t know where he is. I don’t even have a current address for him, all right? The last I knew was he was in Encino, but that was a while ago. I’m not about to camp on his doorstep. If you want to, go ahead.”
“Can you look up from your phone for just ten seconds?”
Michael sighed and met her gaze. “Looking up.”
“We have Jazz tonight, because we’re damn lucky that Oblivion is off the road this week. In a couple weeks when you have your next show, that isn’t going to be true, and besides, you can’t count on Jazz Duffy to save your band’s ass in a pinch. If we haven’t located Malachi and Ryan isn’t well enough to play—”
“You’re jumping the gun. Why not wait to see how Ryan is then before assuming we’ll need someone else?”
“You’ve given up,” Lila accused. “I recognize that defeated tone.”
“No, L, I haven’t given up on my brother. I’ve just accepted reality that we made a deal, and he fulfilled it so I can’t really demand more. Asking is one thing, and I have. But acting all butthurt because he’s not in a hurry to jump on a bus he never wanted to be on? No. Not going to do that.”
Lila propped her hands on her hips. Tonight she wore a black pantsuit with gold at her ears and throat, and she looked every bit the record exec shark. “Butthurt? That’s what you think I am?”
