Impulsive

by Jeana E. Mann

  She met his gaze with equal intensity, refusing to be bowled over by his in-your-face sensuality and still reeling from Luke and Sherry. “No. Just Tasha.” He stood way too close, the tips of his bare feet almost touching the pointed toes of her boots.

  “No last name?” Those mesmerizing eyes held hers prisoner. She wanted to look away, needed to look away, before she forgot how much she disliked womanizing ass-hats. He broke the stare first, his eyes dipping to her lips with lascivious intent before falling to her cleavage.

  “Does it really matter?” She arched an eyebrow, waiting for his eyes to detach from her breasts.

  “Not really,” he replied. His gaze flicked back to meet hers, full of wicked mischief. The corners of her mouth tugged upward in traitorous response. Despite her initial dislike for him, she had to admit he was devastatingly beautiful. Once again, his eyes swept over her and lingered on the colorful artwork of her arms. “Nice ink. Where’d you get it?” Before she could stop him, he grabbed one of her arms and raised it to admire the intricate twining of roses and vines over bicep and forearm. The pad of his thumb caressed the patterns. A decadent shiver washed up her arm.

  “I did it. I mean, the design is mine. One of my co-workers did the work,” she replied.

  “Tasha’s a tattoo artist,” Karly offered, finally finding her voice.

  “And a damn fine one,” Jack added. “She did some of mine.”

  “Mine, too,” Randy added, displaying a bulging bicep circled by Celtic patterns.

  “Really?” Elijah arched a pierced eyebrow. “I’m always looking for new art. Maybe I’ll check out your portfolio sometime.”

  The thought of inking his gorgeous body gave her a vicarious thrill. Broad shoulders and narrow hips with an expanse of rippling abs in between would provide an ideal canvas for her work. Adding Elijah fucking Crowe to her roster of clients would boost her career into a whole new stratosphere. He must’ve surmised the thoughts running through her head, and one side of his mouth quirked.

  Someone cleared his throat. Randy, maybe? Or was it Jack? The interruption was enough to break Elijah’s hold on her. She stepped back, shaking her head to clear away the fog, and stepped on a large foot—Luke’s foot. Had he been standing there the entire time?

  Luke tugged her behind him. Too startled to protest, she let him move her. Tension pulsed between Elijah and Luke. They studied each other for a beat, then Elijah’s eyes lit and his lips curled into another smile.

  “Wait a minute. Is this her? Is this the one?” His gaze slid over her again with renewed interest. A self-conscious flush crept up Tasha’s cheeks. He circled around her like a bird of prey, lower lip clenched beneath his teeth.

  “The one what?” Tasha asked.

  “Can I have her?” Elijah’s gaze flicked to Luke then back to Tasha.

  “No,” Tasha retorted, incensed by Elijah’s sense of entitlement.

  “Pretty please?” He moved closer, his heat and overpowering maleness dissolving her knees. Indignation warred with attraction.

  “Give it a rest, Elijah.” Luke moved forward, his features taut. When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. His two words filled her with hope and confusion. “Not her.”

  Chapter 13

  Silence filled the room. All eyes locked on Elijah. Luke drew in a deep breath and waited for Elijah’s comeback. He wasn’t going to back down about this. The predatory gleam in Elijah’s eyes raised the hackles on the back of Luke’s neck. The attraction pulsing between Elijah and Tasha set Luke’s blood on fire. They’d never been at odds over a girl, but there was always a first time. Elijah could have anyone he wanted, but not her.

  “Fine,” Elijah said, sounding like a chastised child. He cocked his head and met Luke’s stare with equal measure. After a few seconds, he shrugged and laughed. “Chill, my man. I was just playing. You’re way too uptight.”

  Everyone laughed as Elijah took one of Luke’s hands and sandwiched them between his. Luke jerked at the heat from Elijah’s touch and pulled his hand away. Emotion flickered across Elijah’s face before a wall of impassivity shuttered his gaze. He clapped a hand on Luke’s shoulder and turned his attention elsewhere.

  Luke breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been unprepared for the surge of jealousy when Tasha had smiled at Elijah. After she’d pushed him away, he’d stayed up all night drinking with Elijah. He’d poured out his heart about the girl who’d rejected him, but he’d been careful not to mention her name. If Elijah had any idea how he felt about her, he’d never leave her alone. No matter how much time had passed since they’d seen each other, Elijah clung to the way things had been between them. He hadn’t changed a lick in five years, but Luke had.

  “Can I have a word with you?” Luke asked Tasha. He needed to warn her, make sure she knew what she was getting into.

  “Yeah, I guess.” She followed him into the hallway. The voices and laughter of their friends followed them. “What was that about?”

  “Don’t fall for his bullshit, Tasha,” he said. “I love the guy, but he’s a train wreck waiting to happen.”

  Tasha sighed and spoke very slowly, enunciating each word with feeling. “I’m a big girl, Luke. I can handle myself.”

  “I know.” Her eyes flashed up to his and sent a bolt of desire straight into his gut, followed by a heart-wrenching reality check. She’d made it perfectly clear she didn’t want him, and here he was acting like a jealous boyfriend, making a fool out of himself in front of his friends, in front of Elijah, in front of her.

  “It’s what friends do,” he said, trying to save face. “They look out for each other.”

  “Yeah, they do.” She touched his arm and smiled, sending a second bolt after the first.

  Fuck, he was in deeper than he thought.

  “Look. About the other night…” He ran a hand through his hair and tried to look casual. “The things I said…kissing you…that was out of line. I had a bad day and I said some things I didn’t mean.”

  “Oh,” she said. Was it his imagination, or did disappointment flash through her eyes? “Me too. It’s okay.”

  “Yeah? Well, good.” The lump in his throat stuck no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. “I really like Sherry. I’m glad you suggested we go out.”

  “That’s great.” Despite her sincere tone, her eyes drifted away from his. She bit her lower lip then smiled.

  “So, we’re good right?” he asked, knowing nothing could be further from the truth. A rift had opened between them, and he had no idea how to repair it.

  “We’re good,” she said. He needed to see her eyes to make sure it was true, but she was already moving back toward the room.

  The door opened, and Sherry stuck her head out. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” She held out her hand, and he took it. Tasha passed through the door and disappeared into the growing throng of people. They didn’t speak again.

  Tasha watched the others enjoying the night. She was happy for them. Randy and Jack laughed with the band members, Ally and Karly between them. Champagne bottles opened with loud pops like gunfire. Glasses clinked together as toast after toast was made to Jack and his bride-to-be.

  Tasha smiled and laughed with the rest of them, but the strain of pretending to be happy made her temples throb. Luke retreated to the opposite side of the room with Sherry tucked into his side. Tasha felt the weight of his stare upon her, but she managed to avoid his gaze by slipping into the ladies room. When she emerged, he was nowhere to be seen.

  By the time everyone piled back inside the limo, Tasha had imbibed more than her fair share of champagne, but she wasn’t too intoxicated to notice Luke and Sherry’s absence. As the car glided smoothly away from the curb, she turned to look over her shoulder in time to see Luke and Elijah at the exit door, heads together in conversation, Sherry lingering behind them. Within seconds, the limousine turned a corner. They were out of sight but not out of mind.

  “Isn’t he coming?” Tasha a
sked the group at large, feeling a sudden and inexplicable panic. She’d told him to move on, but she’d never considered how it would feel when he did. A heavy weight pressed against her chest. She placed a hand over her heart and struggled to breathe. Where was he going? Would he spend the night with Sherry? The thought of him naked with another girl twisted inside her like a knife.

  “No. He said they’d catch a cab later,” Karly replied.

  Tasha frowned, overcome by confusion and the dull headache. She leaned head against the plush leather seat and closed her eyes to control the whirling vortex around her. The voices and laughter of the others faded. Seconds later, a large hand shook her shoulder. Confused by the unfamiliar surroundings, she rubbed her eyes. She must have dozed off. Randy’s face blurred then sharpened into focus.

  “Geez! What are you doing?” She gasped and jerked away from him. “You scared the bejeezus out of me.”

  “We’re at your place,” he said, one eyebrow raised. “You’ve been asleep for almost an hour.”

  “Where is everyone?” she asked, realizing she was alone with Karly and Randy in the huge passenger area.

  “We already dropped them off,” Karly said.

  “And now we need you to get the hell out,” Randy said. His gray eyes smoldered with mischief. “The limo’s paid up for another hour, and we plan to make use of it.”

  “Gross,” Tasha scowled and wrinkled her nose. “No offense, Karly.”

  “None taken,” Karly replied, smiling back at her.

  The chauffeur opened the back door and extended a hand to help Tasha exit. Clutching Elijah’s drumstick, she pushed the chauffer’s hand away and clambered out with all the grace of a newborn colt. Once she was upright on the curb, she raised her hand in salute to the couple still inside.

  “I’m out, girl scouts,” she slurred, using Luke’s favorite phrase, then tugged her skirt down and staggered into the building.

  Chapter 14

  Wednesdays at the tattoo shop were off-the-charts boring. After cleaning her station and shooting the breeze with the owner, Chad, she inked a newlywed couple celebrating their first anniversary with matching Celtic symbols. She watched Chad work on one of his regulars, the soft buzz of the needle strangely comforting beneath the psychobilly music. When she tired of hanging out, she crept into the back room and worked on the new designs she’d been mulling over for the past few weeks. She needed distraction, anything to take her mind off Luke.

  Despite his declaration they were okay, she hadn’t heard from him at all since the concert, over two weeks ago. He’d switched his weekend shifts at Felony for weeknights. Her fingers itched with the urge to text him, but she chose instead to busy herself with work. Time apart might do both of them some good. Maybe she could get this irrational longing for him out of her head.

  She focused her attention on the drafting table in front of her and waited for inspiration to come. This was the part she loved most—the freedom of creativity. After a while she no longer heard the music or the laughter of her co-workers. Thoughts of Luke faded into the background. She became immersed in the creation of a flamboyant peacock with resplendent multi-colored feathers and dragon-like talons. The composition and proportions were perfect, but it needed something else to complete the design.

  “There’s someone here to see you,” Chad said, interrupting her concentration. He filled the doorway with his lanky frame. Colorful ink enveloped every square inch of his visible skin. The man possessed massive talent, and his client list boasted several big-name celebrities. It wasn’t unusual for an actor or musician to fly into the city for a session with him. Tasha had yet to reach his level of success, but it wasn’t for lack of skill or effort.

  “I don’t have any appointments,” she said without raising her eyes from the design. “Is it a walk-in? Maybe Gavin can do this one. I’m into this big time.”

  “Yeah? Well, this guy asked for you specifically, and I think you’re going to want to talk to him.” The serious note in Chad’s voice brought Tasha’s gaze from the table to his face. He jerked a thumb in the direction of the reception area. “Seriously, Tash. Elijah motherfucking Crowe is in the front, and he wants you.”

  “What? Are you shitting me?” The pencil fell from her hand, clattered on the desktop, and rolled onto the floor.

  “I am not shitting you,” Chad said. “Do you know this guy or what?”

  “I met him after his concert. He said he’d like to see my portfolio, but I didn’t really believe him.”

  “Fuck me, Tasha. If you ink this guy, I will tattoo your face on my ass and name my first daughter after you.” Chad scrubbed a hand through his mop of brown hair and beamed at her.

  “Thanks, but the last place I want my face is on your ass.” She stood and ran a hand over her platinum braids, uncertain how to proceed. “You can worship me, though. I’m good with that.”

  Chad laughed and shook his head, hair spilling into his eyes. “Want me to send him back?”

  “Yes, please.” When Chad turned to leave, she had a few seconds to sweep the fast food wrappers into the trash and straighten her bustier before Elijah walked in.

  To her surprise, he looked normal—or as normal as a rock god drumming legend can look. He wore a holey pair of jeans, over-washed to a soft gray. The colorful lines of his sleeve tattoos contrasted with the black cotton of his plain T-shirt. The brim of a baseball cap obscured his eyes. Unless someone looked closely, they’d never recognize him. When he saw her, he pulled the hat from his head and released a mop of wavy black hair with purple tips. He paused in the doorway and leaned a shoulder against the jamb, thumbs in his pockets, pushing the waistband of his jeans low enough to reveal the sexy V of muscle.

  “Hey, Tattoo Girl,” he said. A slow, secretive smile curled the corners of his mouth. “What’s shakin’?”

  “Not much. How about you?” To hide her trembling hands, she grabbed another pencil and held on to it with a death grip. With predatory grace, he sauntered toward her. “I’m surprised you’re still in town.”

  He paused in the center of the room to pick up the pencil she’d dropped earlier. When he extended his hand to return the pencil to her, she stared at it. Elijah Crowe was standing in her studio, handing her a pencil. Unfuckingbelievable.

  “Oh, I’ve done eleven shows since the one here. We’ve got a week before our final concert,” he replied. “Seemed like a good place to hang out for a while, catch up with Jack and Randy.” He paused. “And Luke.”

  “Yeah,” was all she could muster, heat scalding her skin at the mention of Luke’s name.

  “So, Tattoo Girl, what are you working on?” He grabbed a rolling stool and took a seat next to her at the table, leaning into her arm to see the design. The scent of masculine shampoo and cologne drifted with his movements. One of his hands grabbed the edge of the paper and turned it to face him. She stared at the long fingers, the blue-and-green veins on the back, and the wedding band tattoo on his ring finger. Rumor had it those hands were insured for a million dollars. He saw the trajectory of her gaze and snorted. “Yeah, bad fucking idea.” He ran a thumb along the black lines of the ring. “The marriage lasted a week, but I’m going to have this freaking tat until I die.”

  “You could alter it,” she said, snapping into professional mode. “Or you could turn it into a finger sleeve. I did one on a girl last week.” She twirled on the stool and pulled her portfolio from a shelf behind the desk. “Here. I snapped a picture of it.”

  “Very nice. I’m impressed,” he said in his deep, melodic voice. She glanced at his profile and found him watching her with intense eyes. “What else can you show me, Tattoo Girl?” The way his voice purred over the nickname and the clarity of his irises sent a jolt of lust into her core like a thunderbolt. “You’re talented,” he said, pushing the photo album aside. “But I’m looking for something a little less mainstream and a little more…” The pause in his speech brought her focus to his mouth, the full lips, and the square chin b
eneath them.

  “Gritty?” She finished the sentence for him.

  Approval flashed over his face. “Exactly.”

  An errant braid swung forward to brush her hand. Elijah swept it back over her bare shoulder. The warmth of his touch raised her skin to gooseflesh. Their eyes met and held. She cursed the attraction sizzling between them. She didn’t want to like this guy. His blatant womanizing offended her on a number of different levels, but the depth and emotion in his eyes drew her in against her will.

  How could she have feelings for Luke and another guy at the same time? She felt like a traitor for lusting after someone else. A vision of Sherry clinging to Luke’s arm washed away the guilt. He was with someone else because she’d wanted it that way. They were friends, and they’d never be anything more.

  “These are some of the new things I’ve got going.” She swallowed hard and broke their visual connection to reach for her sketchpad.

  He thumbed through the pages without comment. When he finished, he stared at her for a full minute before he spoke. “Very nice. Do you think you could design something for me? Something gritty?”

  “She absolutely can,” Chad interjected from the doorway, where he’d been lurking like a mother hen.

  “Great.” Elijah stood. Tasha stood with him. He held out his hand to shake hers. The heat of his grasp enveloped her and radiated all the way to her toes. He didn’t let go, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back. “I have some ideas. Maybe we could grab lunch and talk about them.”

  Who went to lunch at three o’clock in the afternoon? Apparently, Elijah Crowe did. She slid her hand from his and eased back to her stool. Nothing good could come from prolonged or unnecessary contact with this man.

  “I don’t get off until eight,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “It’s no problem.” Chad, still hovering, interrupted. “Go ahead. You said you don’t have any appointments.” He turned and shook Elijah’s hand. “Anything you need, man. Anything at all. We’re honored to have you here.”