“Lots of bands stop in. It’s the best-kept secret around these parts,” Camden told him.
A sense of unease, an uncomfortable tightness, began to spread in Jackson’s chest. A place that attracted big talent would also attract reporters. He wanted nothing to do with reporters. That persistent woman—what was her magazine’s name?—was constantly trying to get him to do an interview for a story about eligible bachelors. He knew that was an excuse. She really wanted to dig into his past, his ex-wife and child, and why he’d dropped everything and became a business shark instead of fire chief. It was none of her damn business.
“Don’t worry, son,” Martin said as he stood up and shook Jackson’s hand. “They don’t announce they’re coming, and they aren’t here every night. They just like stopping by and playing at a place where they’re basically left alone.”
Jackson laughed. “Are you a mind reader now, Dad?”
“A father knows what his boy’s thinking.”
“Hey, Jackson, I can’t believe you dragged your sorry ass out for once.”
“Look who’s talking, Spence. You’re hardly ever home anymore, what with your being a big-shot Seattle doctor now,” Jackson fired back at his brother.
“Yeah, but I get homesick every once in a while,” his brother replied.
“All right, quit the bickering,” their brother Camden said with a grin. “Let’s get drunk.”
“That’s the best advice I’ve heard all night,” Jackson said. “Where’s the waitress?”
“Taking care of this crowd,” Martin said.
Jackson looked out at the throng and couldn’t help but smile when he spotted his baby brother, Michael, out on the dance floor doing a poor two-step with a brunette who appeared to have drunk a bit too much.
“She’ll be back in a minute,” Camden said, so Jackson swiped his brother’s untouched beer and took a swig.
“Good thing I didn’t want that one,” Camden growled.
“I’m saving you from getting plastered and embarrassing yourself,” Jackson said, then took another long swallow.
“Always thinking of others,” Camden said.
“Are you boys ready for another round?”
All the noise in the room ceased—at least for Jackson.
He knew that voice. He hadn’t forgotten it in four months, though he’d tried like hell to put her from his mind. Slowly, as if someone had pushed the slow-motion button on an invisible remote, he twisted his head around.
And his eyes connected with the pair of pale blue eyes that had been haunting his dreams for months. Her mouth was turned up in a smile, and she seemed happy, content. She didn’t look as if she’d lost a single night of sleep over him and their night together.
Then their eyes met and her smile vanished. If Jackson had thought this was some trick of hers, that maybe she’d found out about who he was and had followed him back to Montana, her reaction would have proved him wrong. She looked shell-shocked.
Jackson didn’t know how long the two of them faced off, the sizzling connection between them undeniable, but when a passing patron bumped his shoulder hard and the music came back on at the same time, he managed to tune back in to his surroundings.
“Whoa, want to quit ogling poor Alyssa?” Camden said with a deep laugh.
Not funny. Jackson shot him a glare that had Camden’s eyebrows almost hitting the ceiling.
“Do you two know each other?” Martin asked.
His dad was always so damn observant, Jackson thought wryly.
“Um . . . no,” Alyssa said quickly. She turned her eyes away from Jackson and focused on Martin, and a semblance of a smile brightened her countenance again. Her upturned lips could easily convince most men of anything she wanted them to believe, but though she had let her guard down for only a second, Martin hadn’t missed the way she’d looked before the shutters went up.
“Yes,” Jackson said in open contradiction. There was no way in hell he was going to allow her to deny their night together. He hadn’t forgotten it, and he wasn’t going to let her forget about it, either.
“Well, is it yes or no?” Martin grinned as his eyes bounced between the two of them.
“We met on a flight from Paris,” Jackson said before she was able to deny knowing him again.
After taking a moment to compose herself and her feelings, Alyssa ratcheted up her smile. “Oh, yeah, I forgot all about that.” She looked at him sidewise and laughed oh so sweetly. “What was your name again?”
Either she was one hell of an actress or she had forgotten all about him. Jackson considered neither option acceptable. He felt incredibly annoyed, though he didn’t understand why—he should just be grateful she didn’t seem to want anything from him. He hadn’t planned on anything more. He most definitely hadn’t planned on ever seeing this woman again.
So why did his muscles tense and his heart race? Why did he want to haul her to the nearest bed—hell, a freaking table would do—and remind her of exactly who he was? She’d certainly known his name back in New York. She’d screamed it as he played her body like a piano.
Before he could control the animal impulse, Jackson was sliding his chair back and gripping her arm. “We’ll be right back,” he told his family, then tugged Alyssa after him. The two of them were going to talk—right now.
Alyssa tried to dig her feet in. “I can’t leave. I have a full bar.”
“It can wait, sweetheart,” he practically growled.
“No it can’t,” she said, and she struggled against his hold.
“I’m the owner. I said it can wait,” he snapped, then lifted her up, cradled her against his chest, and walked out the front door.
Oh no, oh no, oh no. Panic? A heart attack? Alyssa couldn’t diagnose her condition as Jackson caught her up in his arms. The shock at his aggressiveness had left her temporarily speechless. But once they made it outside and he set her down in front of a large red truck, she found her voice.
“Who in the hell do you think you are? You can’t go around kidnapping people like that!” she yelled as she raised her index finger and stabbed him in the chest as hard as she could.
He ignored her remarks. “When did you get here?” he asked, his breathing heavy as he stood tensely in front of her, blocking any chance she might have at escaping before they finished this conversation.
“You knew I was in the middle of a change in careers, and I never told you where I was from or where I was going!” she shouted. “Why? Because I didn’t want to see you again after that night. So why don’t you pretend like we didn’t just see each other and scurry off to wherever you normally go?”