Their red-hot reunion is off the charts!
They made passionate music together. Has this heartbreaker changed his tune?
Songwriter Eden Voss had the perfect man—sexy, charming, talented and hers. Until record executive Blaine Woodson broke her heart to save his fledging label. Now music’s bad boy is back, begging for her songwriting skills in his studio…and her lovemaking skills after hours. Eden vows to keep things strictly business this time. But there is nothing professional about the heat still between them…
“Mind telling me why you insisted on coming here?” He eyed her curiously.
She tugged him along by the hand, around the circular path leading to the Clara Meer Dock. When they came to a stop, she pointed. “This is why I wanted to come here.”
He looked out, his eyes scanning the dark, glassy surface of Lake Clara Meer. “I’m guessing you come here often?”
She nodded. “This is my thinking spot. Whenever I’m working on lyrics and I can’t quite get it right, I come here. I spread my blanket out on the grass, sit down with my notepad and work it out.”
He looked at her skeptically. “So, did we come here to work?”
“Nah.” She shook her head. “It’s Saturday night, after all. I brought you here to talk.”
He frowned. “I’m still confused.”
She started walking over to the grassy patch overlooking the water and the dock and spread out the blanket there. “Something about this place always seems to bring me clarity. It’s a little slice of heaven, right in the middle of the city. It’s bound to inspire some pretty deep conversation between us.” She sat down, careful not to let her dress ride up till heaven and earth were filled with her glory. Then she patted the empty spot next to her.
He hesitated, standing there on the concrete path, looking a bit baffled.
“You scared, Blaine?” She faked a pout, sticking her lip out as she teased him. “Of little old me?”
He rolled his eyes, but his smile was evident as he joined her on the blanket. “You’re too much, Eden.”
“So, we’re basically alone now.” Or at least as close to alone as we’re gonna get without me crawling into your lap. She watched him, taking in his moon-dappled handsomeness. The dim lighting seemed to enhance his features, especially the golden flecks in his dark eyes. He was temptation in the flesh; her body craved him even though her mind knew better than to get lost in him again. The question was, how much longer would she be able to lead with logic? “What do you want to talk about?”
He cleared his throat. “If I’m being honest…”
“Please do,” she encouraged.
“I want to talk about kissing you again.” His deep baritone had each word dripping with sensual energy.
Warmth raced through her body, and she felt it pool in her cheeks, her chest and a bit farther south. “Blaine.” She meant it as chastisement, but it came out sounding far sultrier than she’d intended.
He shrugged. “Can’t blame a brotha for shooting his shot.”
“I guess not.” She chuckled, from both amusement and nerves. “I don’t know if we should lead with talking about kissing, though.”
“Why not?” He gave her a wicked look. “Did you enjoy the kiss?”
She swallowed and needing a respite from the intensity of his gaze, she looked down at her lap. Her dress had crept up her to mid-thigh, so she tugged the end a bit. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. But that’s beside the point.”
“If you say so.”
She shook her head. Same old Blaine. Always charming, never reflective. “There’s too much in our past that you’re not considering, Blaine. We can’t just ignore our history.”
“Who said I’m ignoring it?” He traced a finger along her lower leg, trailing from her knee to the top of her sandal-encased foot. “What I know about you, our ‘history’ as you call it, is precisely why I want you.”
She drew a deep breath. Was he misremembering? Or was he really so clueless that he didn’t understand where she was coming from? “You know your decision to cut Ainsley and me from the group effectively ended both of our singing careers, right? Not to mention how much it hurt me personally. You have to realize the impact of that.”
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