He felt her tentative grip on his biceps and nearly came apart as her hands made their way around his waist and up his back.He was hard as a rock after one kiss, and there was no way she couldn’t tell.A fire truck raced through a nearby intersection, the wailing siren interrupting the moment, a reminder they were on the freaking sidewalk.But he didn’t want to let go.Not yet.
Despite his reluctance, Trent loosened his grip and pulled away slightly just as Drea’s car pulled out of the lot, stopping in front of them.His breath was still tight in his chest.
With one last look, he ran his thumb over her swollen bottom lip and pushed her hair behind her ear.Her eyes were glazed, her lips parted, and a warm pink dusted her cheeks.Staring at each other, they tried to gain control of their breathing.
“Dream of me, Harper,” he said, turning to walk back into the pool hall.
Chapter Six
Stretching with a groan, Harper turned to look at her alarm clock, 9:10 flashing in red.Wow.Nearly ten hours of uninterrupted sleep.When was the last time that had happened?
Rolling back on her pillow, she smiled, brought her fingers to her lips, and thought about last night.Trent’s mouth had been tentative, then passionate.The thought made her stomach flip.
Her body had responded in such an all-consuming way.Heat coursed through her veins, and relief flooded her.The part of her she had thought dead was showing signs of revival.
She shuddered, reliving the feel of his thumb on the soft skin behind her ear and the warmth of his hand on the small of her back.And there was no question that he had enjoyed it as much as she had.She’d felt him against her.
Harper squealed as she buried her head in the pillows.Times, as they said, were definitely a-changin’.
Not knowing what to do with the surplus energy she suddenly had, Harper decided to pound out some miles on a long run.After ten miles, two croissants, and one shower, it was nearly eleven.
Harper flicked open her laptop.She caught up on her daily dose of gossip and made a note of the Victoria’s Secret sale.Maybe the changes she was making in her life should include adding a bit of sexy back into it.
She logged into the account she shared with her parents and opened the draft folder, where a single message was waiting.Messages from her mom always cheered her, catching her up on the comings and goings back home.The message ended, as always, with “Be safe, Love Mom xxx.”Harper deleted it and replaced it with her own response before logging out.
Opening a second account, she inhaled sharply.There was an e-mail from her lawyer with a draft of her victim impact statement in it.It took another half hour of pacing in front of her laptop and two more cups of coffee before she forced herself to open it.
Reading it now was like reading about another person, a bizarre out-of-body experience of sorts.How had she survived what had been done to her?Reading the first-person account made the pain rip through her.So visceral.So real.Thirty-two stitches.A broken jaw.A broken nose.A fractured cheekbone.The list went on.
Wrapping her arms around herself, she let the tears come, shivering despite the humid Miami morning.Shoulders hunched, she physically collapsed in on herself, her forehead coming to rest on the edge of the table.
Would she ever really escape it?She’d foolishly turned a blind eye as Nathan had used more and more coke, hoping the boy she had fallen in love with would come back to her, that she’d somehow be enough for him to cling to and come back for.But the more time that passed, the more he hadn’t even tried to hide his addiction from her.When he’d been arrested, Harper had directed the police to the small metal tin Nathan kept his eight balls in.For all the good it had done her.At trial, under oath, the police officer stated she’d told him they were hers.
Everyone was using it, he’d told her, swearing it was just a pick-me-up… like alcohol.How naïve could one person be?During the trial she’d learned that a mouse, when given the choice of food, water, or cocaine, would always choose cocaine—until it starved or overdosed.
In the beginning, under her brother’s watchful eye, Nathan had been great to her.But over time he’d become someone unrecognizable.She’d always been more of a homebody, and as he spent increasingly more time with his partying friends, he’d ignored her more and more.As far as he’d been concerned, she was no longer fun, or even interesting.He’d stopped talking to her.Touching her.
Memories flooded in, her breakfast rising.She’d cooked his favorite pot roast for their two-year anniversary and it sat on the table for an hour before he finally texted that she should freeze it because he was staying out with friends.She’d left a love note made of Scrabble letters on the counter for him one evening, but found the pieces strewn around the kitchen the next morning.She’d built up the nerve to buy a sex book to try to fix that part of their relationship, and he’d laughed and said he wasn’t the one who needed it.
Finding out about his extracurricular love life had been the deal breaker.Until that point, she hadn’t realized that she would never be able to fix what was broken.
The humiliation swept through her.She ran to the bathroom just in time before her breakfast came up.Being found by her best friend, still tied to the bed.The horror in the paramedics’ eyes overshadowing their attempts at professionalism.Hearing her mother’s soothing words to her in the hospital without being able to see her because of the swelling to her face.
And Reid.Her relationship with her brother hadn’t been able to withstand the trial.Torn between his best friend and his sister, he had chosen neither.His lack of support had crushed her.
Yes, the impact statement was brutal, but it served as a stark reminder.She was doing fine on her own.Better than fine.She didn’t need to put that kind of trust in another guy, only to have her heart ripped out again.Or worse.
***
Trent put the phone down and leaned back in his office chair, his mind reeling with the possibilities.One phone call could change your life.Michael had walked him through the TV show idea step by step, and man, it was a great one.
The show had already been approved by the network for production and would record for eight weeks a year with the panel of judges scouting out the most talented artists in the country and giving them a shot to compete for a studio of their own.Dred Zander, singer/songwriter and all-around head case from the metal band Preload, was already signed on as a judge.The guy was a fucking legend at twenty-eight, his voice and his ink equally impressive.Meeting Dred was motivation enough to want to do the show.
Trent opened up the nondisclosure agreement Michael had e-mailed him.Junior would have loved the idea.He’d always said talent was natural.Good tattoos could be taught, but great tattoos were natural talent.Trent had always wondered how Junior could tell he was a natural back when Trent himself still hadn’t realized his talent.All Junior had known was that Trent was good with a spray can.
The show certainly would have an impact on the studio, of course.He’d need to weigh the pros and cons and discuss it with Cujo, who would end up having to pick up the slack in the studio while he was gone.Which would have been easier if one of his artists, Eric, hadn’t been fucking up lately.
The publicity it would bring for his studio would be huge.Ami James and the guys at Miami Ink had seen overwhelming success on the back of their reality show.He and Cujo could possibly expand the studio or even open another somewhere else, though leaving Miami permanently was not in his plans.
