Colt kept trying to get away from the horde of aggressive women while being respectful—after all, these ladies were his fans—but they did not make it easy. They insisted on photos and autographs, to which he could’ve said no, but unless someone behaved rudely, he made it his policy to treat his fans like loyal customers. After all, where would he be without them?
From the corner of his eye, he’d seen Sarah walk off to the bar, but she was gone by the time he’d finished with the twelve ladies—none of them his type, none of them real like a certain woman he was desperately trying to resist.
He scanned the crowd, searching for her hot-pink-streaked hair, but didn’t see her. Had she found someone else to show her a good time?
Maybe it’s for the best. There was no way in hell he would be able to keep his hands off her for much longer. The moment she’d brushed against him, getting into the limo, it had taken all of his self-control not to climb in after her, peel off those hot-as-sin leather pants she wore, push her down on all fours, and fuck the hell out of her from behind. The only thing that had saved him was thinking about how crushed he’d be if he finally showed her the real him and she wasn’t interested.
No, that’s not going to happen. Sarah wasn’t shallow like that.
Yeah, but you were wrong about your brother. Your own brother. He could be wrong about anyone.
Colt went back inside to find his date and mingled his way through the packed living room, dodging several “ex-girlfriends” (fabricated relationships with fabricated endings), and politely declining a few more selfie invites.
Where the hell could Sarah be?
A waiter strolled by, carrying a tray of empty drinks. Colt grabbed his arm. “Hey, have you seen a woman in black leather pants with hot pink in her hair?”
The waiter—a thin guy in his twenties—grinned. “She about this tall,” he held up his hand about shoulder height, “and wearing a really, really tiny tank top?”
Colt held back a jealous growl. “Yesss.”
The waiter smiled appreciatively as if savoring a very hot memory, one he might use to get off later tonight.
Asshole. I’ll kill you.
“She’s dancing with Big Jim.” The waiter sighed. “Such a treat.”
Colt’s nostrils flared. “What the hell do you mean by ‘treat’?”
The waiter stepped back, sensing he’d crossed a line. “Uhhh…sorry, sir. I only meant that she’s, uh…” he cleared his throat, “a very good dancer.”
Good dancer? He laughed. If her dancing was anything like her singing, then what the waiter had really meant was “entertaining.”
“Thanks.” Colt turned around and made his way back through the crowd, this time chucking his politeness policy out the fucking window.
When he got outside, there was a huge crowd gathered around the tent. Many were cheering; most held their cell phones in the air and were taking videos.
Oh, fuck. It was Sarah. What’s she doing? Colt pushed his way to the front and there he saw something he could never imagine in a million years.
No fucking way.
Sarah had never had so much fun. Not when she was a teenager. Not when she presided over her first criminal trial, and not when she’d given the valedictorian speech at her graduation from Harvard. Top of her class.
But this—letting go and feeling alive, oblivious as to what anyone thought about her—was euphoric.
She and Jim had hit the floor, and before she knew what was happening, the other guests joined in, laughing, dancing, and yelling as the DJ amped up the beats, driving the crowd into a frenzy. Within minutes, Jim had her up on a go-go platform, conducting the partygoers like an orchestra of mayhem. She danced faster, raising her arms in the air, and the crowd followed. She jumped up and down like a crazy pogo stick and they screamed in hysterics, pumping their fists in the air, urging her to go faster. She didn’t know how much longer her body (and those spiked heels) would hold up, but she was having the time of her life.
“Go. Go. Go!” chanted the crowd in time with the bass.
Sarah closed her eyes and did just that. Hips, hands, chest, heartbeat. She let it all go, her worries drifting away. There was her, the music, the freedom.
“Sarah,” a deep voice echoed in her ear at the exact time a powerful pair of hands gripped her hips from behind, nearly causing her to crash to the floor.
Her eyes flipped open. Staring at her were two hazel eyes laced with irritation. Colt. He’s so beautiful. Even hotter when he’s angry.
“What the hell are you doing, Sarah?”
His words snapped her from her blissful state. “I’m dancing. What the hell are you doing, Colt?”
“They’re filming you,” he growled. “And you’re going on trial. What do you think the jury will do when they see you acting like this?”
Sarah looked out over the crowd. Hundreds of smart phones were directed right at them. She looked at Colt. Looked at them. “Fuck ’em!” She held her arms up in the air and hollered, “Hell yeah!”
The crowd cheered back.
Suddenly, she felt her body being yanked down off that platform and scooped up into two very strong arms.
“What are you doing, Colt?”
“We’re leaving,” Colt growled over the music as the crowd booed loudly.
“Why?” she asked, bouncing in his arms. Ooh, he’s so strong.
“I didn’t agree to this.” He growled, weaving through the gawking partygoers snapping off photos.
“Agree to what?” He looked genuinely upset, but why?
“Colt,” she said sternly “put me down!”
He glanced at her and did as she asked.
She pulled him to the side of the yard, out of earshot of the gawkers. “What’s going on?”
His body posture—clenched fists, straight back, tight lips—signaled he was very unhappy, but he didn’t speak.
“Colt, I’m talking to you. What was that? And why did you have to ruin my good time?”
“Good time?” he seethed. “You call making an ass out of yourself a ‘good time’?”
What a jerk. “I was not making an ass out of myself. I was dancing. Okay—and making the most of being left alone for a gaggle of horny groupies.”
“Those women are fans—they’re how I make a living.”
“You were drooling over their giant boobs and getting your giant ego stroked.”
“No. I was working.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. You were working and I was dancing, but I still don’t understand why that was a problem.”
“Sarah, you cannot run around acting out like a wild teenager. You’re a grown woman who’s in a lot of trouble.”
“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know what’s coming? It’s bad, Colt. Really, really bad. And what they do to judges in prisons? I’ll be lucky to survive a year. So excuse me if I want to behave immaturely and do tequila shots and dance. This is my last chance.” She had a few weeks until the pretrial. From there, it would be a grueling road preparing for trial, followed by the actual trial.
Followed by orange jumpsuit time. Yippy-fucking-ki-yay.
“You are not helping yourself if you run around acting like the immoral slut they’re accusing you of being.”
Sarah’s mouth hung open. “How can you—man-whore of the year—say that to me?”
Colt parked one fist at his side and blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His voice quieted. “I can’t stop hoping you’ll get out of this somehow, Sarah.” He reached out and ran his thumb across her lower lip.
Her anger evaporated like a puff of steam. Goddammit. Why does he have to be so likable?
Needing him to truly understand the situation, she used her tell-it-like-it-is judge voice. “It’s not going to happen, Colt. They’re going to make an example out of me.” Wright had on his lead-filled boxing gloves, and he wanted blood. She suspected he’d involved the governor, too, because everything for her case had been fast-tracked. It normally took months for a pretrial in a case like this. “Judge Wright has turned this into a politically charged witch hunt, and I’m ripe for the burning.”
Colt looked down at his boots, shaking his head. “This isn’t right.”
She reached out and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. His strong, strong arm. “It’s not your fault. I brought this on myself.”
He scoffed. “That’s not true, but even if it was, don’t you think you deserve a second chance? You’re a good person, Sarah. You help people. And you helped me.”
Her heart felt toasty warm. “I’m glad I could do that for you. It means a lot that I could give you back your life and your music.”
He chuckled bitterly. “That’s the funny part. I remember everything, but I still can’t play any of my old songs.”
“What? That’s awful. What did the doctor say?”
He shrugged. “To give it time.”
“I’m so sorry, Colt.”
“Strangely, I’m not. I’ve started writing new songs.”
The brain is a magical place. “If there’s anything I can do, anything at all.”
“You can not go to prison and stay in my life, being a good influence.”
Dear God. He’s so damned sweet. She wanted to grab him and never let go. “You know what? After everything that’s happened—losing my bench, getting shot, facing trial—the one thing I’ve come away with is that there are no guarantees. All we really have is this moment, so you’d better enjoy all of it before the clock runs out.” She’d already decided; if lucky enough to survive the shit storm down the road, she would not waste one single moment of living, which included her career. Perhaps she’d go back to helping people the old-fashioned way, such as working at a legal-aid center, giving advice to people who couldn’t afford a lawyer. Or she might be able to teach after a few years. Who wouldn’t want to learn from my mistakes?
“I’ve almost died three times in twelve months, and I lost my memory. I get what you mean,” Colt replied and flashed a devilishly charming smile.
A comforting calmness flooded the air between them. She couldn’t remember it ever being like this. No tension. No pretending. Just talking. And we’re not bleeding. Not bleeding is really awesome.
“I’m glad you didn’t die, Colt. Otherwise, I would’ve missed out on all of this excitement.” It sounded like a joke, but it wasn’t. Somehow losing everything, except the really important things—her friends, family, and health—made the little things that much more precious.
“I still think you should let me try to help,” he said.
“You’d be wasting your money. You can’t hire a better lawyer than the one I already have, and you paying for my legal defense would only raise eyebrows.” It might look like he was trying to help her hide what they’d done.
“But we’re allowed to be seen together in public?”
“We were together that night, and I won’t deny it to anyone. But I will deny there was any criminal intent on my part.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Absolutely. You were horrible.” She cracked a smile.
He covered his heart, and two adorable dimples puckered beneath his light brown stubble. “Ouch. Just because you said that, I’m not going to tell you where we’re going next.”
She loved surprises, but really wanted to see the inside of his house. Because right now, feeling the warm buzz of tequila running through her veins and the connection between them growing stronger, well…she heard his bed calling.
No, better not push him. He’d made himself clear and had his reasons. Of course, if he happened to change his mind, she wouldn’t argue. Nope!
“I really like you, Colt. Even if you are a giant publicity whore and player.”
His jaw dropped, but his eyes smiled. “This coming from a woman who, according to the papers, sexually exploited me?”
“What! I’ll exploit you.” She socked him in the arm, pretending to be offended.
“What the hell are you doing to her?” said a deep male voice.
She and Colt turned their heads to see Jim Ripper standing there, his arms crossed, and a big bouncer behind him. Jim was pretty big himself—tall like Colt—but very meaty looking instead of lean hard muscle.
Colt narrowed his eyes. “We’re having a conversation. A private one.”
“Well, she’s my friend and my guest, and you’re upsetting her.” Jim stepped a bit closer.
Uh-oh. “It’s okay, Jim. Colt’s just trying to help.”
“You know him?” Colt snapped jealously at her.
“Well…sort of yes,” she replied. “But it’s his sister—”
“I’m not liking your tone with the little lady, asshole,” Jim snarled.
“Who are you calling asshole, asshole?” Colt turned and stepped toward Jim. “And she can handle herself.”
“Okay, boys,” Sarah rushed between them, extending her arms, “there’s just a little too much testosterone flying here. Let’s just—”
“Apologize to Judge Alma,” Jim said, staring over her head at Colt, “or I’ll toss you out on your ass.”
By now, half the crowd had started watching the two rock stars about to go head-to-head.
Colt stepped in closer, completely ignoring her presence. They were like two pit bulls who’d locked their doggy missiles on each other.
“Colt, let’s just go. Okay?” she pleaded, tugging on his arm. “You made me a promise for some fun tonight, and I doubt you’ll be keeping it if you decide to fight Big Jim here.”
Colt didn’t seem to hear her.
Oh crap. Do something, Sarah. Neither man was about to back down, and the last thing she needed was for Colt to get into a brawl and arrested again. She had enough to worry about.
Sarah turned her body, threw her arms around Colt’s neck, and kissed him.
At first, his body felt stiff as a board. She could practically taste the anger on his lips—such soft, soft lips—so she leaned into him, pressing her breasts against his chest, allowing their hips to go flush. She ran her tongue over the crease of his lips and placed a hand on his soft cheek.
Colt practically melted in her arms.
He placed his strong hands on her hips, pulling her body snugly against his tall frame, and opened his mouth, slipping his tongue against hers.
The party around them dissolved, leaving just the two of them standing there kissing, their bodies growing hotter.
As Colt’s expert tongue moved sensually against hers, she slid her hands to his chest, enjoying the feel of his firm pecs beneath her palms.
He’s so delicious. No man had ever kissed her like this. So much passion. So much heat. There was more than just plain old lust coming from him, and she wanted more.
Wait. No. What am I doing? Sarah pulled away, becoming instantly aware of the crowd gathered around them, applauding and catcalling.
Colt grinned down at her with shiny, freshly kissed lips, and all Sarah could see in those beautiful hazel eyes was a spark of profound joy.
Oh my God. And it’s so…beautiful.
She sighed, knowing she could look at this view for the rest of her life and never grow tired of it. I’m in so much trouble.
Still grinning, Colt’s gaze broke away. “Hey, man, sorry about that,” he said to Jim. “She makes me a little crazy. But in a good way.”
The women in the crowd made an “awww…” sound.
Jim jerked his head. “It’s cool, man.” And then walked away.
“I think we should go,” Colt said, swiping his thumb over her bottom lip as if longing for another kiss.
Sarah’s mind felt all mushy and gooey. She knew she should walk away, but the bell had been rung. And you know what they say about bells.
“Where do you want to go?” she asked.
“It’s time you get to know the real me.” He took her hand and headed for the exit.
The real him? Oh, God. I have a feeling I’m going to like this. A lot. And it scared the hell out of her.
Ding!