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I back away, but the hallway is three feet wide, tops, and the guy, because it is a guy, tall and broad-shouldered, bends toward me from the waist, his lips curling into a grin like the sin of the angels. Lazy. Sexy. Beautiful.
Dangerous.
“What have we here?” he whispers, his eyes going half-lidded, bright against his tanned skin, a startling blue-green in the shaft of light falling through the open bathroom door. “A girl.”
Holy crap.
My throat clicks. My lips move. No sound comes out. Could be because he chooses that moment to straighten, and I finally notice he’s bare-chested, flaunting the most perfect abs and washboard stomach I’ve seen outside of magazines.
Silver hoops decorate his small, brown nipples. Black lines and colorful shapes wrap around his thick biceps and corded forearm. Tattoos, I realize, curling on his smooth skin. A worn leather bracelet encircles his strong wrist.
I can’t breathe. Oh, God. It’s as if someone has sucked all the oxygen from the room.
Oblivious, he leans on the doorjamb and folds his arms over his chest. “Know what? You remind me of someone. Have we met before?”
Of all come-ons… Not that I can speak. Not when he’s looking at me with interest sparking in his gaze.
“What’s your name?” he asks. When I don’t answer, those startling eyes narrow, and vaguely I think they must have been many a girl’s downfall. Then he thumps his chest with his fist and drawls, “Jesse.” He points at me and lifts a brow. “Jane?”
A choked sound leaves my throat. Is he for real?
“You’re drunk,” I say breathlessly, and why the heck am I breathless? Just because this guy is too beautiful to be real doesn’t mean I’ll pant after him, like, like…
“Jesse?” A woman appears at the bathroom door, right behind him, adjusting the straps of her blouse. “Come back here and finish what you started.”
“I’m quite finished,” he mutters, his eyes never leaving me.
My face turns to stone. Panting after him like this woman. Like a bitch in heat. Yeah, not in this lifetime.
“We weren’t done yet.” She drapes her arms around him, and I notice she’s wearing shorts that are just glorified panties and that her cleavage is so deep one of her nipples is winking at me. Her long blond hair is tangled, her lipstick smeared.
Jesus on a pogo stick.
“Yes, in fact, we were,” he counters, his voice so low and throaty it lifts the fine hairs on my arms. “Very, very done, Natasha.”
“It’s Veronica,” she mutters and pushes off him, glaring at his back. “Asshole.”
“Whatever.” He waves a hand at her, his gaze still on me.
He’s a dick. The most beautiful man I’ve ever set eyes on, and he’s an arrogant douche.
Figures.
Maybe all the beautiful ones are like that. God knows Nick was pretty, and he was a monster inside. The shinier the package, the dirtier the soul, it seems.
I step away from this Jesse guy and the disgruntled girl he obviously just fucked and forgot about, turning to go.
So with my luck, it makes perfect sense that Ev blocks my path right in that moment and points a finger at Mr. Beautiful, smiling brightly.
“Jesse Lee. I see you’ve already met. He’s the third apprentice at the tattoo shop.”
Yup, makes perfect sense that the asshole I never want to meet again is best friends and colleagues with my best and only friend’s boyfriend. Which means I’ll probably get to see him all the time.
Awesome. And I’ve only just returned to town.
***
Jesse Lee, according to Ev, is a good guy and a hell of a friend. When her psycho ex attacked Seth and then Micah, beating them up badly, Jesse stood watch over them at the hospital and offered to go hunt the son of a bitch down and drag him to the police station, after bashing his face in.
