“Because. He’s just…”
“What?” Meg asked.
“Too much. It’s too intense.” He was too intense. The way he looked at her as if he knew her, the way he did know exactly what she wanted him to do to her. It was too much.
“So?”
“So? Meg, you don’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“This is not a normal relationship. He’s not vanilla. And BDSM is more extreme; it makes you vulnerable. It makes me more vulnerable, anyway. And I just can’t go there with a twenty-nine-year-old musician who lives three thousand miles away, and that’s when he’s not on tour.” Ruby sipped her latte, hoping Meg would be satisfied with her explanation.
She wasn’t. “So you really never want to see him again?”
Ruby was dying to see him again. “Nope. Never.” She said, shaking her head vigorously.
“Then I suppose this would be the wrong time to tell you the band is going to be recording at Emmett’s studio starting, like, now.” She put a hand to her mouth. “Oops! Looks like I just did.”
So what Mark had said last night was true. Ruby’s heart skipped with a combination of fear and excitement. She was getting really sick of this particular feeling.
This was so not good. She was at Meg’s all the time, and now Mark was going to be there, too? She felt sweat break out under her breasts. She knew that she’d never be able to look at Mark without remembering exactly how she’d let him dominate her.
It would be torture.
“So, aren’t you a little excited to see him again?” Meg asked.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
“What’s there to know? He’s hot, he’s into you—”
“But—”
“The sex was good.” Meg shrugged. “I don’t see any problem. None whatsoever.”
“Meg. I barely know him, and I’m already in a gossip column. I don’t like that. I don’t even like him.”
“Come on, Ruby. I saw the article. It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was awesome publicity for us. Next time do something scandalous so we make a national paper!” After a second Meg smiled gently. “You wanna know what I think?”
“Not especially.”
“I think Mark could really shake up your neat, orderly existence, and that freaks the shit out of you. I think you freak out whenever you get vulnerable, and something about Mark got you real vulnerable real fast.”
“Give me a break. You make me sound like a control freak!” Just then their server, Bree, arrived with two plates of food.
“Here ya go, girls,” she said, placing their plates on the table.
Meg smiled warmly. “Got a minute to chat with us, Bree?”
Ruby and Meg spent so much time at Savor, they’d gotten to know Bree pretty well. Still, Ruby recognized a diversion tactic when she saw one. Didn’t matter. Meg was wrong, and Ruby didn’t have the energy to argue with her about it.
“Yeah, I have a few minutes.” Bree pulled a chair over to their table and straddled it. With her short, spiky hair, androgynous body, and gorgeous face, Bree was simply striking. She wore a tight T-shirt and black skinny jeans, and both her wrists were weighed down with dozens of silver and black bracelets that jangled as she crossed her arms over the back of the chair.
“So what’s going on, ladies?” Bree asked. “You two have been in heavy conversation since you got here. Work stuff?”
Meg grinned mischievously. “Ruby spent the night with Mark St. Crow.”
Ruby kicked her best friend under the table, and Meg yelled, “Ouch! What? It’s not like it’s a secret; your picture’s in the paper!”
Bree simply raised one eyebrow at Ruby. “No shit?” Ruby wondered if anything ever fazed the cool server. “His band has a wicked-hot singer.”
“You know the Riders?” Ruby asked. Was she the only one in the world who hadn’t heard of the band?
Bree nodded. “Yeah. I read an interview in Gaydar last year. Yvette sounded interesting, so I’ve been following her career.”
Ruby paused with a bite of omelet halfway to her mouth. “Wait a minute. Did you say Gaydar?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Is Yvette gay?”
Bree nodded. “As a blade. You look shocked.”
“I am. It’s just that Mark implied she was his ex-girlfriend.”
“Well, from all I’ve read, that woman hasn’t slept with a man since she turned sixteen. She’s very open about her sexuality, which is pretty hot.”
Ruby chewed her eggs thoughtfully. “So, if she’s not his ex, why does she hate me?” For some reason it was better if Yvette was a jealous ex-girlfriend. If Yvette wasn’t in love with Mark, why had she given her the evil eye all night?