“Why do people bungee jump? Or skydive?” Sam said.

“Freaking adrenaline junkies,” Macy muttered. “All the piercing and tattoo stuff, you say it’s all about your ‘self-expression’, but in the end I think it’s simple addiction.”

“For some people, maybe. And it’s fun. We’re not depraved or something because we like it. My thrill is simply different than your thrill.”

“That stuff you did on a horse, Mace? See, that’s crazy to me,” Sam said. “You were a little kamikaze. When I would watch you barrel race, I could hardly pry my fingers apart to peek through them.”

“Agreed,” Candace said.

Macy shot a glare at Sam. “Bad analogy. We all know how that ended.”

Both the other girls clamped their mouths shut, and Macy instantly wished she could take the words back. She covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m just…I don’t know. I love you guys. But maybe this was a bad idea.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Sam said quickly, her rueful expression making Macy feel worse. “It’s not you. That was a totally insensitive thing for me to say.”

“But you know I’m usually not so sensitive about it,” Macy said. “At least not with you guys. Like I said, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You need to get laid.” Candace declared this as if it should be obvious to everyone.

Macy rolled her eyes and laughed. “That’s never been a cure-all for me, and you know it.”

“Maybe because you haven’t found someone yet who can do it right.” Candace twirled her barely touched beer bottle between her hands. “It’s too bad Ghost left, huh?”

She hadn’t wanted to think about him, and she damn sure could’ve done without the mention. Ghost was Brian Ross’s best friend and employee who had somehow managed to short-circuit Macy’s brain. It was the only explanation for the way she’d behaved with him that one night all those months ago…

Now was the time to choose her words very, very carefully with her friends.

“It wouldn’t have mattered. I was…intrigued by him. But I’m just being realistic here. He and I have absolutely nothing in common. I mean, it’s not that I need to have my perfect match or anything, but we have to mesh in at least some areas.” She took a breath. “Besides, it’s a moot point. Who knows when he’ll be back?”

“But what if he did come back?” Sam asked, twirling her dark blonde hair around her finger and grinning. “I mean…what if he walked in the door right now?”

Macy shrugged. “I’ve made up my mind.”

“You’re saying you didn’t mesh in any areas? You admitted you had a lot of fun when you hung out with him. That’s a start. A good start.”

“He’s not my type. A more not-my-type guy never existed.”

“Oh, throw the types out the window,” Sam said. “He’s hilarious—”

“He’s wrong.”

“That’s what’s so great about him, though. Plus he’s sexy as hell. I love bald guys. I love their shiny heads. Just makes me want to rub ’em. And rub some more. And rub and rub and rub…”

Candace and Macy dissolved into laughter as Sam carried on with her imaginary rubbing. “What would he need me for?” Macy asked Candace. She jabbed a thumb in Sam’s direction. “Send this one over to him. For all his head-rubbing needs.”

“No, no,” Sam said, sobering. “I’ve got Michael. Not that he’d ever shave his head. But I think when Ghost gets back, you need to give the guy a break.”

She’d given him one. But her friends did not know that, and did not need to know that, because they would be insufferable. Oh yes, she’d given him a hell of a break. And then she’d run scared because of how good it had been. And then, just like that, he was gone, off to Oklahoma to deal with a family crisis. Months had gone by. She knew he still kept in close touch with Brian, but Macy hadn’t heard a word.

So it was crazy to think anything could come of it now. She’d messed up too bad, too soon—but that was okay, because like she’d told her friends, their pairing didn’t make sense. At all.

Even if the thought of giving him another “break” sent a shiver all the way to her toes and had warmth curling in decidedly more interesting places on her body. The beer she’d imbibed wasn’t helping, but she should have known better than to think it would take the edge off. It only made it sharper. That didn’t stop her from taking another swig.

“His dick is probably pierced,” Sam said thoughtfully.

Macy barely forced the swallow of beer down her throat before erupting in a groan. How in the hell was she going to play this? “Oh God.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” Candace said with a singsong tone, leaning over to pinch Macy’s arm.

“Wait a minute. Does he…is it… I mean, do you know?” Sam asked Candace. “Did you guys have some ménage action going on over there?”

“No! It’s not like I’ve seen it, jeez. I’m only speaking from experience with Brian. But it’s a pretty good guess.”

Candace had guessed right. He had some kind of piercing going on down there. Macy hadn’t seen it herself—it had been too dark in the car for that—but she’d felt it. God, had she ever felt it. “You guys have got to let up on me. I’m…going to be traumatized.”

“Macy, just give the guy a shot.”

“There’s just one problem with that. He’s. Not. Here.”

Sam’s brown eyes flickered over Macy’s right shoulder, in the direction of the entrance. Her face brightened in a big grin. “Are you so sure about that?”

“Huh?”

Candace followed Sam’s gaze and squealed in delight, jumping from her seat and darting off behind Macy’s seat.

All of a sudden, she was terrified to turn around and see what was coming her way.

Oh. Surprise, surprise.

She leaned toward Sam, knowing murder was in her eyes. “You did not.”

Sam’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, honey, we did. We’re tired of you moping around. I don’t know what happened with you and him, but clean the slate. Here’s your chance.” Her words ran so close together at the end, Macy knew he was almost at their table. What was she going to do now? Her heart halfway up her throat, she was forced to glance up when it seemed a shadow fell across her.

Yes, she was absolutely going to maim her friends later.

Chapter Two

Ghost. Where the hell had he gotten a name like that? He wasn’t particularly pale. Well, maybe a little. But not what she’d call ghastly or anything. There was nothing…wraithlike about him at all; he was a very solidly built six-two or so, judging by how tall he stood next to her five-six.

Tattooed. Pierced. Shaved head, though right now he wore a black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes with the hood of his black sweatshirt over it.

The very antithesis to everything she wanted, or thought she wanted.

He was looking right at her, shit-eating grin in place, one dark eyebrow arched. That stare was like a vacuum. Or a black hole. Nothing could escape it.