Entwined With You

be there for her. “What did you have in mind?”
    “Drinking, dancing, getting wild.” Megumi’s grin came back. “Maybe we’ll find you a hot rebound guy.”
    “Uh …” Yikes. Awkward. “I’m doing pretty good, actually.”
    Shearched a brow at me. “You look tired.”
    I spent the entire night getting nailed to my bed by Gideon Cross …
“I had a tough Krav Maga class yesterday.”
    “What? Never mind. In any case, it won’t hurt to check out the scenery, right?”
    I shifted the straps of my bag on my shoulder. “No rebound guys,” I insisted.
    “Hey.” She set her hands on her trim hips. “I’m just suggesting you be open to the possibility of meeting someone. I know Gideon Cross has got to be a hard act to follow, but trust me, moving on is the best revenge.”
    That made me smile. “I’ll keep an open mind,” I compromised.
    The phone on her desk rang and I waved good-bye as I headed down the hallway to my cubicle. I needed a little time to think about the logistics of playing the role of a single woman when I was very much taken. If I owned Gideon, he possessed me. I couldn’t imagine belonging to anyone else.
    I was just starting to play with how to bring up Saturday night to Gideon when Megumi called after me. I turned back around.
    “I’ve got a call on hold to send your way,” she said. “And I hope it’s personal, because holy hell is his voice smokin’ hot. He sounds like S-E-X rolled in chocolate and covered in whipped cream.”
    Nervous excitement raised the hairs on my nape. “Did he give his name?”
    “Yep. Brett Kline.”

4
    I REACHED MY desk and dropped into my chair. My palms were damp just thinking about talking to Brett, and I was steeling myself for the little charge I’d get from hearing his voice and the guilt that would follow it. It wasn’t that I wanted him back or wanted to be with him. It was just that we had history and a sexual attraction that was purely hormonal. I couldn’t shut it off, but I had absolutely no desire to act on it.
    I dropped my purse and the bag holding my walking shoes into a desk drawer, my eyes caressing the framed collage of photos of Gideon and me together. He’d given it to me so he would always be on my mind—as if he ever left it. I even dreamed of him.
    My phone rang. The rerouted call from reception. Brett hadn’t given up. Determined to keep it businesslike to remind him that I was at work and not available for inappropriately personal conversations, I answered, “Mark Garrity’s office, Eva Tramell speaking.”
    “Eva. There you are. It’s Brett.”
    Myeyes closed as I absorbed that S-E-X-rolled-in-chocolate voice. It sounded even more decadently sexual than when he was singing, which had helped to propel his band, Six-Ninths, to the brink of stardom. He was signed with Vidal Records now, the music company run by Gideon’s stepfather, Christopher Vidal Sr.—a company Gideon inexplicably had majority control over.
    Talk about a small world.
    “Hi,” I greeted him. “How’s the tour coming along?”
    “It’s unreal. I’m still trying to get a grip on it all.”
    “You’ve wanted this a long time and you deserve it. Enjoy it.”
    “Thanks.” He fell silent for a minute, and in that space of time, I pictured him in my mind. He’d looked amazing when I saw him last, his hair spiked and tipped with platinum, his emerald eyes dark and hot from wanting me. He was tall and muscular without being too bulky, his body ripped from constant activity and the demands of being a rock star. His golden skin was sleeved in tattoos, and he had piercings in his nipples that I’d learned to suck on when I wanted to feel his cock harden inside me …
    But he couldn’t hold a candle to Gideon. I could admire Brett just like any other red-blooded woman, but Gideon was in a class by himself.
    “Listen,” Brett said, “I know you’re working, so I don’t want to hold you up. I’m coming back to New York and I’d like to see you.”
    I crossed my ankles under my desk. “I’m thinking that’s not a good idea.”
    “We’re going to debut the music video for ‘Golden’ in Times Square,” he went on. “I want you there with me.”
    “There with— Wow.” I massaged my forehead. Momentarily thrown by his request, I chose to think about how my mom would bitch at me for rubbing at my face, which she swore caused wrinkles. “I’m really flattered you asked, but I have to know—are you cool with just being