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  “That is so fucking hot,” he said, shaking his head in awe.

  I rolled my eyes at him, and he elbowed me playfully.

  * * *

  Three hours and three Bloody Mary’s later, I was laughing my ass off as Brandon regaled me with stories of every variety. He was highly entertaining.

  “Okay, so get this shit,” he said, pointing at me with his drink. He was yelling, and I was afraid the flight attendant was going to cut us off at any moment.

  “Shh,” I urged him, giggling as I said it.

  “Okay, I’ll be quiet,” he said in a stage whisper. “So get this shit – and I’m only telling you this because I’ve been drinking, and I kind of turn into a dick when I drink.”

  “Only when you drink?” I asked in mock-teasing.

  “Only when I drink. And this story is so fucked up, I can’t not share it. So, like a year ago, my buddy who I’m going to see this weekend, he’s all in love and shit, and he asks his girl to marry him, and she says yes, right?”

  I nodded, leaning my elbow on the armrest between us and angling toward him to better listen.

  “Yeah, so they’re all engaged and happy and shit, and this is when I was going through my fucking messy-ass divorce with fucking Heather, so I kind of hated his ass for being all in love and shit.”

  “Fuck Heather!” I cheered, and he clinked his glass to mine.

  Brandon had told me countless stories about his gold digging ex-wife, and I was now riding aboard the Heather Sucks Train and proudly waving a Team Brandon flag.

  “Fuck Heather,” he echoed loudly, raising his glass in the air and promptly earning a glare from the passing flight attendant. He ignored her and turned back to me. “That’s what I always say. So anyway, my buddy’s all happy and shit, and every day at work he’s practically throwing it in my face. And then he gets assigned to this project team out in San Fran, and he has to leave for the summer. He thinks, hey, no big deal, I’ll be back at the end of the summer, and everything will be cool, but then he finds out his fiancé spent the summer sleeping with her ex-boyfriend, and all hell breaks loose, right?”

  I nodded again, narrowing my eyes to focus and try to follow his train of thought. “What happened?” I hiss-whispered when he didn’t start talking again. I was sort of riveted, and he’d stopped telling the story.

  “Oh, right, well they break up, and she gets together with the other dude, and my buddy’s a fucking mess. So he up and decides to date this girl his mom’s been trying to get him to date for years, because she didn’t like his fiancé. So he dates this girl, and she’s all prim and proper, and looks really good on his arm, but that’s about it. The sex is bo-ring, she doesn’t really drink, and she doesn’t like it when he goes out unless it’s to their stupid, fucking country club. I tell you, I hate rich people.”

  Amen to that.

  “I mean, I’m rich, but I’m not like those fuckers who have money growing out of their asses and shit. I’m real. But my buddy comes of old money and was born with a silver spoon up his white ass. But he’s a cool guy, so we’re friends. It’s good. Anyway–”

  “You just insulted me, Brandon. I’m hurt.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I did?”

  I smirked at him. “Came out with a silver spoon myself.”

  “No fucking way! You’re cool as shit.”

  I shrugged. “I got out early – couldn’t handle the bullshit that came with it all, so I bolted.”

  Actually, my mother had kicked me out, but he didn’t need to know that. We’d just met after all.

  “Good woman.”

  I winked at him. “Continue with your story.”

  “Right, so my boy tells me at Christmas that he’s getting married – again! He asked this stuffy, rail thin chick of his to marry him and gave her a big ass diamond, moved her out to San Fran with him, and now they’re getting married in a month! Can you believe it?!”

  I shook my head, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. People got married all the time. I was humoring him. And had no idea who this friend of his was. I mean, shit, the guy could be happy and in love. Why slight him for it.

  “I know, right, so I’m going out there for his bachelor party, because his girl’s away at a spa this weekend, and I think I’m going to get my boy laid.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s not very friendly of you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “My boy hasn’t had anything but vanilla sex in almost a year. He needs to get some before he chains himself to this girl for the rest of his life! She’s so bo-ring!”

  Brandon definitely seemed like bad news, but I was starting to like his style. Of course I might not be inclined to say the same thing if he was friends with my fiancé and was planning to talk him into having sex with another woman a month before our wedding. That wasn’t cool at all.

  “But didn’t you say that his ex-fiancé cheated on him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, wouldn’t it stand to reason that he’s probably not a big fan of cheating on someone he’s with?”

  “Oh,” Brandon said, his face falling when he realized his big plans were dashed. “Shit, that sucks. Oh well, maybe I’ll get laid instead.”

  I laughed. I ventured to guess he got laid a lot. He was good looking, rich, and not at all pretentious. He was sort of a catch – if I was looking for a great weekend in bed. I wasn’t. I was swearing off guys after my last break-up three months earlier.

  I looked over at him, and he was grinning. Damn, I was a sucker for adorable men.

  I bit my thumb between my teeth, contemplating if I wanted to invite Brandon back to my apartment. It had been a while since I’d gotten any, and maybe that was part of my problem. My best friend Julian always told me I was too uptight for my own good. He told me I needed to be more laid back, as in laid back with a really hot guy on top of me. But I rarely took his advice.

  “Damn, you’re like a hot librarian in that outfit,” Brandon said, eyeing the black sleeveless dress and plain black heels I’d worn to bury my mother.

  I didn’t normally wear things that conservative and had only bought the dress for the funeral, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “Maybe I am,” I said, letting my long hair spill over my shoulder.

  “You have to give me your number,” he insisted.

  “Why? You live in Boston.”

  And I’m not entertaining your ‘I’m getting laid on vacation’ fantasies.

  “Yeah, so. Maybe we can hook up for drinks while I’m in town. And then if I buy this winery and move to San Fran, you can be my friend, because shit knows my buddy’ll be chained down once he ties the knot. Come on. I promise I won’t try to sleep with you.”

  I laughed out loud. “I really don’t believe you.”

  He chuckled. “Nah, you’re cool as shit, and hot, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Why? Do you suck in bed?”

  He laughed as only someone who knows how good they are can do, and I was really, really tempted to oblige him.

  “Only if asked,” he said, as his tongue slowly touched his top lip, and I felt a pull in my belly that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “Brandon, I’d never sleep with you,” I said honestly. “You say San Fran instead of San Francisco, and I hate when people cutsie things up.”

  He laughed a big raucous laugh. “Touché. But no really, I won’t try to sleep with you because I don’t see women after I sleep with them, and I’d sort of like to hang out with you. You’ve made this flight rather enjoyable, Harper.”

  “I’m happy to indulge you Brandon, as you are not the douchebag I feared you might be when you sat down, but you are a dirtbag, and for that I applaud you.”

  “Ah, thank you for noticing. So, can I get your number?”

  “Seriously? Why?”

  He over-exaggerated rolling his eyes. “So we can hang out and not have sex. Geez, weren’t you listening?”

  “Fine,” I grumbled, as I reac
hed into my messenger bag and pulled out one of my business cards. I handed it to him unceremoniously.

  He looked at it for a few seconds, and then his eyes flew back to me. “Holy shit! You’re Harper Connelly?!”

  “The one and only.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?!”

  Because I knew you’d react like this.

  About a year earlier, Hit! had done a spread on the top fifteen up and coming tattoo artists in the country, and I’d been featured. It seemed that ever since Kat Von D had made a name for herself, everyone thought female artists were the complete shit. But I hadn’t been complaining. My parlor, Art Studio, had gained a ton of notoriety and business as a result.

  “Shit. You’re like the hottest tattoo artist in San Francisco!”

  I laughed. “I definitely wouldn’t go that far, but I can hold my own.”

  “Holy shit. You’ve gotta ink me while I’m out there. You have to.”

  “What do you want done?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. Design me something. Anything.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Typical frat boy.”

  “Hey now. I was not in a frat.”

  “No, but you act just like a frat boy. ‘Give me anything you want.’ The last guy who told me that ended up with a penis on his arm.”

  “No shit,” Brandon said in awe.

  “Nah, I wouldn’t do that, but I was sure as hell tempted.”

  He laughed. “Hilarious.”

  Chapter Two

  Harper

  I opened the door to my apartment and nearly stopped breathing.

  “Jesus, Julian,” I said, my hand going over my rapidly beating heart. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Cupcake!” Julian cheered, getting up from my couch and crossing the room to me. He wrapped his muscular arms around me and picked me up off the ground. “I didn’t know you’d be home so early. Baby girl, I missed you.”

  “I caught an earlier flight,” I said, hugging him back. I realized I’d missed his familiar comfort while I’d been away.

  “Couldn’t stand the Beantown Bitches anymore?”

  “Not for one more minute. Now please put me down.”

  “Fine,” he said, unceremoniously setting me on my feet.

  I crossed my arms and shook my head, noticing he was dressed in a fitted black t-shirt and black pants. He looked like he’d been on a date.

  “Now why are you in my apartment?”

  He smiled broadly, his white teeth a brilliant contrast to the chocolate color of his smooth skin. “I had a date, and since he is famous and he’s not out, I brought him here for the afternoon.”

  My mouth dropped open in irritation or offense or something possibly akin to jealousy. “Tell me you didn’t sleep with him in my bed,” I said, glaring at him as I walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

  “No, I did not,” he said, obviously offended by my accusation, as he followed close behind me. I handed him a bottle of water. “You know I don’t have sex until the third date, and that’s only if there’s long-term potential. Besides, I would never do that in your bed. I just came here because my cleaning lady doesn’t come until tomorrow, and my place is a mess.”

  “And you assumed I’d be gone until late tonight, right?”

  He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, and that. Are you mad?”

  I shook my head as I took a sip of water. “No, I’m not mad. I’m a little jealous, but that’s it.”

  He shook his head endearingly. “You have had a bit of a dry spell, haven’t you?”

  I shrugged. “I met a guy on the plane, actually.”

  His eyebrows rose, and I could see the excitement lighting his eyes. “Is there potential?”

  I shook my head. “No, he’s not my type, but he was fun to talk to.”

  Julian smiled. “I think you should call him,” he suggested, conspiratorially. He was always trying to set me up.

  I returned his grin. “Not a chance. I’m swearing off men for a while, you know that. So tell me about today’s guy. He was famous?”

  I knew a subject change was the best way to get the attention off of me and the lack of men in my life.

  Julian grinned even wider. “He’s an actor.”

  I raised an eyebrow in question. Julian charged five hundred dollars for a haircut, so his clients were all somebody. It wasn’t rare that he had the occasional celebrity in his chair.

  “Really? Anyone I’d recognize?”

  “Donovan Collins,” he confirmed, and my jaw dropped.

  “The dark-haired guy from the Earthbound movies? He’s gay?”

  “Oh yes, and he made no secret about letting me know.”

  “Juicy details, please,” I said, as I leaned against the counter waiting for Julian to continue. He got hit on more than anyone I knew, and he always had the best stories that went with how he met the guys he dated.

  He grinned. “Well, he came in for an appointment yesterday, and I closed the shop, per his assistant’s request when she made the appointment. And let me tell you, he was even more gorgeous in person, and his hair was so think and dark. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it, but he was with his bodyguard and some chick on a cell phone, and he was acting all formal and reserved, so I assumed the same attitude.”

  “Well, you are a professional after all,” I said half-sarcastically, but it was true. Julian was as fun loving and playful and gregarious as they came, but he knew when he needed to turn it off for a client.

  “Uh, yeah. The last thing I need is for some pretty boy actor to go badmouthing me all over Hollywood for being unprofessional. So, anyway, we go into the private room since he doesn’t want anyone seeing him through the windows, and the bodyguard and the chick stay out front. And I start massaging his scalp, and he isn’t saying much. Then he starts telling me how he’s looking for a new stylist because he fired his old one and asks if I’d be interested. Did you know he’s from the Bay Area?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t pay much attention to Hollywood gossip or celebrity fun facts any more than I had to. Once and a while one of them would end up under my needle, but I didn’t take the time to learn the intimate details of their lives.

  “Well, he is, and he tells me he’s planning to move back here part time and asks if he could keep me on call for when he needs his hair done, blah, blah, blah. So I say fine, and I cut and color his hair, he thanks me, and it’s over. He takes my card and leaves while the chick pays me, and I think that’s it, but then when the chick leaves, he walks back in and comes up right behind me, so I turn around, and he’s giving me this sexy look. Then he says, ‘I’m in town for another day. Can we get together?’ And I think, okay, does he want me to do something else to his hair, because I worked my magic, and it looked good, so I wasn’t sure what else he wanted.”

  “What did he want?” I asked, riveted by his story.

  Julian grinned. “A date. He told me his hair was perfect, and then he took a step toward me, put his hand on my cheek, told me I was perfect, and he kissed me. And it was a damn good kiss, so I gave him your address and told him to meet me for lunch today. And I had food delivered, and I lit candles, and it was all sorts of romantic, and now I think I’m in love.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “After one date?”

  Julian fell in love a lot. It was sweet, but he got burned a lot when the guy didn’t end up feeling the same way about him.

  “After one date,” he confirmed, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest. “And we have another date tomorrow night. He extended his stay so we could see each other again.”

  Okay, so maybe Julian had found a good guy. And I was happy him. And a little jealous. I wished it was that easy for me to fall in love, but it just wasn’t.

  “That’s really sweet,” I told him. “I hope he knows what a great guy he’s going out with.”

  Julian grinned. “I think he knows. So, do you hate me?” he asked, the empathy in his voice no doubt a r
esponse to the look on my face. “You saw that Earthbound movie four times in the theater. Did I swipe your crush?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “I did not see it four times. I only saw it three times, partly because Kelly dragged me, and partly because I was lusting after Garrett Lewis the whole time.”

  “That’s because he’s a preppy boy.”

  I threw my hands up in surrender. “Fine, I like guys who look like they stepped out of a J. Crew ad. Sue me.”

  “Cupcake, Prince William is at the top of your to-do list. You should be sued.”

  He’d made fun of me for my Prince William fantasies for years, but a part of me sort of got off on a guy who could rock a pair of wellies. I considered it a sickness.

  “And Garrett Lewis is second,” I said, ignoring his barb.

  He shook his head. “Yet when he came in for ink two months ago, you barely spoke to him as you worked on him. You’re ridiculous.”

  Yeah, that had been a great day. I’d had Garrett Lewis in my chair for two hours – and I’d said barely two words to him – but the whole time I inked his shoulder, I had these dying urges to land my lips on his skin. It was bad, and he was so nice. He tried to talk to me while I worked, but he started to make me so flustered I was afraid I was going to make a mistake, so I told him I needed to have silence to work.

  “He’s dating some actress, Sophie something or other. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not the kind of girl who steals a guy out from under someone.”

  Julian waved his hand in dismissal. “Pssh, you can’t believe everything you read. Don’t you know that?”

  “Jules, he was there with her. Paulie worked on her while I worked on him.”

  “That doesn’t mean shit. She wasn’t getting his name tattooed on her ass was she?”

  “No, she got a heart the size of a quarter on her hip, and then she sat and watched me work on him, as he smiled at her. I didn’t have a chance in hell.”

  “The worst part is,” he scolded, “you could have had him first. Kelly offered to introduce you.”

  “I know,” I grumbled. My good friend Kelly was Garrett’s sister, and she had offered to introduce me a dozen times over the years, but I’d always declined. She didn’t know he was number two on my to-do list. I’d kept that a secret from her. “He’s only twenty-two. I couldn’t ever get past that.”