day. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You’re always telling me what you shouldn’t have said, Jake. How about you tell me what you really think for a change, huh?”
A current of anger whip-cracked between them. Jake dragged his hand through his hair, took in Rielle’s aggressive stance: chin up, shoulders back, hands fisted on her hips. “Come with me,” he snapped, eyeing an empty cabana.
Between where they stood now and the place he’d chosen for a showdown with Rielle, was Stu climbing out of the pool and a hostess holding out a monogrammed towel and a fluffy robe for him. When Jake walked past, Stu called out, “Will you see Ceedee gets back to the hotel?” Without breaking his stride, he palmed Stu mid-chest, pushing him back in the pool.
Inside the cabana, with its diaphanous curtains drawn, Jake threw himself onto a plush padded lounge. The effort to get here, the look on Stu’s face and the sound of Rand’s whoop, the laughter from the pretty boys and the glamour girls around the pool had taken the edge off his sudden flare of anger. Maybe Rielle wouldn’t follow him—she wasn’t big on obeying orders.
She wasn’t big on backing off a fight either.
Through the near transparent curtain he saw her approach, hesitate. Unlike on the pole or the trapeze, or when she owned the stage, her movements were unsure. She wavered in the light of the fire torches looking like she might as easily take flight in the opposite direction.
He realised he was holding his breath, waiting for her decision. He didn’t know if he wanted her here or not. All he knew was she confused the hell out of him. Chances were, if she came anywhere near him, he’d have to battle with himself not to touch her. And what if she demanded answers? He wasn’t sure he had any that were rational; that didn’t start with wanting her in his arms. And that was a phenomenally bad idea. They’d tried that. It didn’t work. She’d made it clear she didn’t want him that way.
He felt stupid sitting here alone. At least he could’ve ordered a drink. He got to his feet ready to fling back the curtain and leave the cabana just as Rielle ducked through its folds. She had a mean look in her eyes that didn’t fit with the hesitancy he’d seen. He was right. She was in love with the drama of being Rielle Mainline, rock star, painted, primped and fake to the core, acting out her life instead of living it. A feeling of contempt bubbled thick and hot, chilli sauce in his veins.
“Are you sure you want to know what I think?” he growled.
Eyes flashing, she said, “Give it your best shot, lover.”
“Lover!” The word was like a slap. “You feel safe tossing that word at me, Rielle? Because I don’t think you know anything about love. I don’t think you know anything about real life. I don’t think you know who you are without the hair and makeup, without the clothes, the fans, the flashbulbs.”
She shifted with irritation, tossed her hair, the handkerchief ends of her dress floating around her legs, showing the muscles of her thighs. “Sure Jake—you think I’m a cliché, well big fucking deal, I think so too. What else have you got?”
He knew she was trying to back him into a corner. He knew he should either kiss her or walk away and that anything else was just picking at the pink puckered beginnings of a new scab. He wanted to rip the wound open and have it done with so it could heal properly.
“You said you’re never frightened. I think you’re frightened all the time. All your tough talk, your smart mouth, your ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude, it’s there to hide a scared little kid who’s weak and wounded, and running from the truth.”
Her eyes widened, she took a step back from him. He could see he’d scored a direct hit and it should have been enough. But it wasn’t. All he had left in him tonight was being a jerk. “A terrible thing happened to you and you never got over it.”
Her chin came up. “Yeah, so you can read. The accident is in every profile ever written on us.”
“Yeah, I read about it.” He sneered, snatching a fist full of the curtain. He was done with this. Done with her. “What I know is Rand got past it—you never did. He grew up; he owns his