L.L. stepped out of the coffee shop on Monday morning and received an even more jarring shock than Tague’s news on Saturday.
“Hey, beautiful.”
Her gaze snapped from her iced coffee to the man standing before her, dressed in jeans, a black leather jacket and ultra-cool sunglasses. His bronze-colored hair was a stylish, shaggy mess, his facial features strong, his body rock hard.
Instinctively, L.L. jumped back as her heart lurched. Her latte flew from her hand and crashed to the ground. Yet again.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded of Corey Crenshaw. The ex-ex.
“Thought I’d surprise you,” he said in a casual tone, as though them running into each other wasn’t the least bit earth-shattering or gut-shredding. Like it was no biggie at all. He added, “I saw pictures of you in the paper over the weekend.” He whistled under his breath. “You looked fucking amazing.”
L.L.’s stomach took a dive south. Her pulse pounded erratically. This was the absolute last man on the planet she’d anticipated running into. Because she’d worked damn hard to banish Corey to the dark recesses of her mind where the asshole belonged.
“You’re stalking me because of those pictures?”
“I’m not stalking you.” He gave a half-snort for emphasis. “I read that you were working for Kensington & Marks. Since this is the closest coffee shop to your office—and knowing your love of lattes—I decided to pop by. I’ve only got a few minutes. Someone will recognize me and there’ll be a flash mob before you know it.”
Her gaze flitted to the burnt-orange stretch Hummer double-parked and the three bodyguards standing alongside it.
“A stretch Hummer, Corey?” she sneered. “Jesus.”
She bent and scooped up her cup and lid. Tossed them in the nearby trash bin and kept on walking.
Unfortunately, Corey fell into step with her.
“I wanted to tell you that I just bought an apartment in Tribeca,” he said. “And I’m remodeling a studio a couple blocks away from here, where we’ll record our new album. So, I’ll likely be seeing you around.”
She halted abruptly. Removed her aviators so she could glare up at him. “You’re moving to New York?”
“Not moving. Moved.” He gave her the grin that used to make her melt at his feet. Back when she’d been young and naïve. She was neither now.
“Just when I was really starting to like this city,” she grumbled.
“I’m actually hoping that we’ll see more of each other,” he said, either ignoring her comment or not getting it.
Her temper flared. “You have to ruin everything, don’t you, Corey?”
She tried to march off, but he grabbed her by the forearm. “Hey,” he said. “Wait.”
L.L. spun around and yanked her arm from his loose grasp.
“Don’t touch me, Corey,” she said in a forceful, measured tone. She speared in with a look she knew was filled with rage and agony. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again.”
True to his conjecture, he was spotted and suddenly photos were being snapped and people descended upon them, asking for autographs.
From the legendary Rock God.
With mounting disgust and rising fury, L.L. stormed off.
She was shaking from head to toe by the time she stepped out of the elevator on her floor. Jace and Meg were at the gourmet coffee station and when they caught sight of her, clearly distressed, both followed her to her office.
Once inside, Jace asked, “What happened? Is it Tague? Goddamn it, I knew you were going to fall for him and he was going to say Hey, baby, I don’t get involved. Thought I told you that from the beginning.” He checked his pockets and scowled. “I don’t have a handkerchief with me.”
L.L. glowered, her heart still thundering. Maybe even cracking a little bit. “I don’t need one. He said nothing of the sort. At the beginning or now. Yes, I am in love. But guess what? He is, too.”
Jace’s brows jumped. “Holy shit. Didn’t see that one coming.”
Meg stared at her. “For real?”