Images of her in her baseball caps and T-shirts, looking like anybody’s sweet kid sister, swam through his thoughts. She’d never had a man to tell her how beautiful and sexy and desirable she was, and when she’d finally found one, he’d said all the words but hadn’t followed through.

Not only that, but he deserved the Asshole of the Year award for the way he’d treated her when he left. He hadn’t known how dire the situation was.

That melting sensation was back in his chest. Either it was worse or the alcohol exacerbated it, because he felt as if his whole damn heart was about to spill out on the floor.

He had to get out of here.

“Starla, I need to jet,” he said, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. He threw down enough cash to cover their drinks and a hefty tip.

“Going to see her?”

“Thinking about it.”

She gave him a sly wink. “Well, I hope you two have a wonderful evening.”

He returned her grin and stood from the barstool, only to sit his ass right back down when he saw who was in the booth nearest the door. “Holy shit. She’s here.”

Starla gasped, sitting straight up. At least she didn’t whirl around to look. “Oh, no, I hope she doesn’t get the wrong idea. Did she see you?”

“She wasn’t looking at me. Looks like she’s with someone.”

“Well, go invite her over or something! So she knows this isn’t anything shady.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” He really wasn’t worried about her getting the wrong idea about him. Who in the f**k was that guy sitting next to her?

“This isn’t funny at all,” Michael fretted at Candace’s side. “You’re going to get my ass kicked, Candace.”

“Oh, please. It won’t come to that, I promise.”

Sam giggled from her seat across from them. “Hey, we’re three buddies out for a drink. Besides, he can’t say anything since he’s here with some other chick.” She threw a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. “Although I have to say that looks pretty platonic from where I’m sitting. You could fit a bulldozer between them. Still, it won’t hurt for him to get a teensy bit rattled.”

“If he’ll bother,” Candace murmured.

Michael shook his head. “It might hurt if he rattles me. Oh, shit, here he comes.”

Candace fought down the desperate urge to look up. To gauge Brian’s expression. To see if she really needed to keep her body between him and Michael in the name of her good friend’s safety.

“Michael,” Sam whispered. Although a whisper in here was practically a shout. “You should put your arm around her or something.”

“So he can break it off?”

“Man up, dammit,” Sam snapped, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She leaned across the table toward Candace. “No matter what happens here tonight, don’t you dare leave with him. You gave him a taste last night, now you want to make him sweat. The man hasn’t even taken you on a proper date yet.”

She could excuse that. Brian just didn’t seem the dating sort. “I’m not into the whole hard-to-get thing,” she fretted.

“Honey, that’s so freakin’ obvious, but this isn’t a game. Wanting what you can’t have is a fundamental of human nature.”

Was that all her feelings for Brian were? Nothing more than a base reaction to the untouchable, the unattainable?

Michael was still hung up on Sam’s previous comment. “Hey, I am a man. But getting the shit beat out of me so she can make some dude jealous does not a man make.”

“Okay, shhh,” Candace hissed. She allowed herself to glance up then. Her gaze tangled with Brian’s as he approached, and she forced herself to school her facial expression to show only genuine surprise to be bumping into him. An oh-what-a-wonderful-coincidence look. Not an oops-I’m-caught-spying look.

He didn’t seem to be trying to conceal any feelings at all. There wasn’t joy to see her. There wasn’t anger, either. Did he feel anything? He was so frustrating.

“Hi,” she greeted as he reached them. He gave them a smile, but it was scarier than it was friendly. “Do you know my friends, Michael and Samantha? Guys, this is Brian.”

The three of them exchanged greetings, and she thought Brian’s appraisal lingered on Michael longer than on Sam. Sizing him up. Michael seemed to notice it too, because his foot prodded hers hard under the table. She kicked him back.

“It’s great to meet you,” Sam piped up, scooting over to make room for him in her booth. “Candace has told us a lot about”—Candace shot her a withering look—“about getting her tattoo. She said you did a great job. I’ve been thinking of getting something myself.”

Brian’s gaze lingered on Candace even as he and Sam struck up a conversation. She felt it like a physical caress, though she didn’t dare to meet it directly. Anger still simmered in her blood. His blond companion had found her way over to the pool tables, chatting up a few of the guys shooting a game and occasionally swigging her beer. Candace could see her only from the back, except for when she turned to glance in the direction of the door and flashed a pretty, delicate profile. Lips to die for. She had different colors threaded through her hair. Her denim skirt was slung low enough on her hips to reveal what Macy would call a tramp stamp…and a peek of a thong of some indiscernible color. One of her legs had what looked like a gorgeous sunburst on the calf, but half of it was obscured by her black cowboy boot.

Maybe he’d given her the tattoos. Maybe that’s the kind of girl he really wanted. They would make a beautiful couple, she thought miserably. She was something Candace could never be.

“Here with your girlfriend?” she asked innocently, when the simmer threatened to turn into an outright boil.

Sam’s eyes grew to the size of quarters. Brian had been saying something to Michael—who had relaxed considerably—but he calmly turned his attention back to her. She smoldered under the scrutiny of those blue eyes, and felt stirrings beneath her own micro mini-skirt that did not bode well for Sam’s directive not to leave with him. His hair looked so sinfully silky her fingers could still feel it sliding between them. Her lips could still feel the tickle of his goatee.

Damn you, why do I have to want you so bad?

He grinned as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “That’s Starla, one of my artists. She’s here to confront her on-and-off boyfriend about something, who the hell knows what.”

“She can’t call him? Go to his house?”

“Not when he won’t answer the phone or the door.”

“Sounds like she’s stalking him, then.”

“Hmm, doesn’t it? Stalking is such a deplorable thing.” His gaze leveled her, vaguely mocking, infinitely infuriating.

Oh, the nerve! Was he actually insinuating…accusing her of…?

Well, he was right, after all. She hadn’t called him. Hadn’t gone to his apartment. She’d followed him here. But to call her out on it! How dare he!

It was official. She hated him.

Brian nodded in the direction of the door. “Let’s go out and talk for a minute.”

She hated him so much, her heart kicked into triple time after his suggestion. She shot Samantha a glance and read in the other girl’s face everything she wanted to say. Don’t leave with him. Do. Not. Leave. With. Him.