Tempting

Fuck.

She knows something.

But my brain is skipping right over that.

It’s skipping right to handcuffs slapped over Kaylee’s wrists.

This car is way too small for how badly I want to bind her to my bed.

New topic.

“What is it that’s embarrassing?” I ask.

“How much you secretly love pop music.”

“In your dreams.”

She smiles. “Sounds like a waste of a dream.” There’s a gleam in her eyes.

I know women.

And I know Kay.

She’s flirting.

What the hell?

I take a deep breath. Turn to the road. Attempt to get my thoughts in order.

Nothing has changed.

I’m the guy who’s supposed to protect Kay.

Even from herself.

That means we need a new subject.

“Is this that band Emma is in love with?” I ask.

“The one band?”

“One of the bands.”

“Yeah. But it’s more the lead singer and that sexy, breathy voice of his.” Kaylee motions to the radio. “He sounds like he’s in the middle of… you know.”

“I know?”

“Sex.”

He does. Which means it is the band. And even though the singer does sound like he’s in the middle of a fuck, this is a much safer topic than handcuffs. “You know two of the guys get their work done at Inked Hearts.”

“They do not.”

I nod then attempt to turn my attention back to the road as I take the 10 to the 405. It’s a straight shot for another fifteen miles. Luckily, we’re late enough into morning to skip traffic. Mostly.

Kaylee turns toward me, her smile brightening her light eyes. “Brendon Kane, I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a name dropper.”

“Didn’t say a name.”

“Brendon Kane, the celebrity name dropper. Who else do you work with, oh great tattoo artist?”

“A lot of musicians.”

“Yeah?” Her voice perks. She clears her throat, trying to play down her interest. Kaylee and Emma were obsessed with a few bands for a while. And I mean know the guys’ birthdays, tattoos, and favorite foods obsessed.

Only all those bands sound the same to me.

“Not that you care,” I tease back.

“Yeah. Of course not.” She smooths her dress. “Who was it?” When I don’t respond, she motions to the stereo.

“Artist client confidentiality.”

“Tease.”

Fuck yeah. “And that’s a bad thing?”

That gets her chest flushing red. She still manages to hold my gaze. “Don’t make me beg.”

So much for a safe topic. There’s no way I can handle her begging. Not right now.

I turn back to the road. “What’s his name?” I don’t forget my regular clients’ names, but I don’t recall their professions either. Rock star, secretary, bartender, CEO—it’s all the same to me. Skin is skin. Ink is ink. “Joel Young. He’s a regular.”

Her eyes go wide, but she nods like this is no big deal.

“And Ethan Strong. And his girlfriend.”

“A couple’s tattoo?” She lets out a long sigh. “That’s sweet.”

No, but it is sweet. “I could introduce you next time he comes in.”

“No way,” she squeals. It’s a rarity for her.

Fuck, the things that excitement in her eyes does to me…

I’m not going to survive the drive at this rate.

“I’m sure he’d offer tickets,” I say.

Her eyes go wide. “Really?”

“Backstage passes even.”

“No fucking way.” Her voice rises to a squeal. She claps her hands together. “You wouldn’t tease me?”

Fuck yes. Lose the panties if you want to see how badly. “Not about this.”

“Em would kill me if I went without her.”

“So go with her.”

“But…” Kaylee turns to me. Her green eyes fix on mine. They fill with earnest affection. “You’d have to come. Or it would be too much fun. Really, Brendon. Who would complain the music is too generic?”

“Anyone with taste.”

“Anyone who’s a judgmental jerk?”

“And your comments on Die Hard?”

“I like Die Hard. It’s that third one where it gets iffy.”

“Not that you get judgmental.”

She laughs. “Never.” Kaylee leans down to place her purse on the floor. There’s no frustration in her eyes. She’s just happy. “What was the couple’s tattoo?”

“It wasn’t. It was something for her. An in memoriam for her brother.”

She makes that aww sound. “That’s sweet.”

“It was.”

“You do a lot of couple’s tattoos?”

“A handful. Would you get one?”

“I don’t know. That’s a lot of commitment. One person, on your skin, forever. Would you?”

“If it was someone I couldn’t get out of my head. Someone I needed under my skin.” Someone like Kay. “Yeah. I don’t see how I could avoid it.”

Chapter Nine

Brendon

Kaylee steps off the escalator and surveys the expansive room. “This is huge.”

Her smile spreads a little wider. She turns back to the warehouse packed with fake rooms and apartments and takes another step down the glossy white-grey path.

Usually, I find this place depressing. Manufactured. Fake.

But the way Kay is trotting to the faux studio apartment on our left, running her fingers over the light wood bookshelf, crouching down to pick up the thick dictionaries on the bottom shelf…

Fuck, her joy does something to me.

Something I’m not used to.

She puts the dictionary away, pushes herself to her feet, and moves into the room.