More Than Once (3 page)

But now Andy, the vulnerable, broken-hearted nice guy I’d met before, had vanished, and in his place was Andrew, who was bold, assertive, and really fucking sexy.

“One date,” he said, his mouth so close to mine I could feel the words against my lips. “One date and then you can tell me to get lost. But give me a chance first.”

I was painfully aware of every inch of Andrew’s hard body pressed against mine. He seemed…bigger than I remembered. More muscular. I could tell from the way his collared shirt hung from his frame, and I was tempted to rip it open and see exactly how much he’d changed underneath. Not that I’d had any problem with his body before—but now he had a confidence to him that was all new, and he wore it damn well.

The Becca of a few months ago would have grabbed him and kissed him senseless, then suggested they go back to his place. Actually, the Becca of a few months ago
had
done exactly that. But now I was trying to be good and that meant not making out with guys I barely knew in the middle of parking lots.

Ugh. Being good was no fun at all.

“One date,” I said. “But don’t expect anything more.”

“I don’t.” His face hardened for a split second, and he added, “Don’t worry. I’m not looking for anything serious.”

“Ah, I see. You want
that
kind of date.” I gave him a teasing smile, but I wasn’t all that surprised he was after sex and nothing else, not after the night we’d had together. I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed or relieved. Both?

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to. But moving to Dallas has been lonelier than I expected and it’d be nice to have someone to go out with. As a friend, if that’s what you want.” He slowly traced a line from my lips down to my chin and along my neck. “If it leads to nights like the last one we shared, well…I wouldn’t complain.”

I shivered at his touch, wishing he would continue lower. “I’m not looking for anything serious either. But I wouldn’t mind a friend with possible benefits.”

“Good.” He released me and stepped back, and I instantly missed his warmth. “I have to get back to work, but text me the address and I’ll be there tonight. Anything I should bring?”

“No. Just be yourself and they’ll love you.”

He chuckled. “Parents always do.”

“I bet.” I returned Andrew’s coat and opened the car door, but lingered outside. I’d never expected to run into him again and hadn’t been thrilled to see him at first, but now I found I didn’t want to say goodbye. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“I look forward to it.” He brushed his lips against my cheek, then flashed me a charming smile and trudged through the snow to a brand-new silver Audi. Damn, was that his car? I had no idea what he did, but it must be paying him well. He was exactly the kind of guy my parents would love for me to date. Too bad I already knew it would never turn into anything more. Neither of us wanted that.

But for one night? He was perfect.

My phone rang when I started the car. Probably Mom reminding me to pick up booze again because I couldn’t be trusted with the most basic tasks without being reminded twenty times.

I glanced at the phone, but when I saw the caller ID, I yelped and tossed it on the seat next to me. I stared at it like it was a writhing snake as it flashed, vibrated, and sang Blink 182’s “I Won’t Be Home For Christmas”—the closest I came to holiday music. Finally it stopped and the screen went dark, but the name of the caller stuck with me.

Jared Cross. The singer of my former band, Villain Complex. The reason I’d quit.

Why would he call me after all this time?

I
shouldn’t have come to this party. All around me, people dressed in costumes were celebrating Villain Complex and I couldn’t even get wasted. I mean, I
could
, but I’d sworn to try and drink less and make better decisions with my life. Hence my boring Coke with nothing else in it.

Across the club, my former band members seemed to be having a good time. Hector, the drummer, sat in a booth with some blonde I’d never seen before, their heads close together and their faces all smiles. Kyle, the keyboardist, was dancing close to his girlfriend, Alexis, the two of them practically making out in the middle of the floor. And on stage, Jared and Maddie were belting out “Don’t Stop Believin.’”

Jared was the lead singer, and he used to play guitar for the band, too. After I quit, he switched to bass and Maddie joined to take over on guitar. With her help, the band went on the reality TV show
The Sound
and came in second place, resulting in multiple record deal offers—and along the way, Maddie and Jared fell in love, too.

I stared into the bottom of my glass, feeling my gut twist. I wasn’t jealous. I
wasn’t
. Really. Maddie seemed like a cool girl, and I’d accepted that Jared and I weren’t meant to be. We’d slept together one time, that was it. And I didn’t even want to be in their stupid band anymore. I’d been the one who had quit, after all. It had been the right thing to do, for me and for them.

But sometimes it really fucking hurt to be around them. Seeing Maddie so easily take my place and fit in better than I ever had. Hearing Jared mangle the basslines I used to play on stage (okay, he wasn’t
that
bad, but I was better). Watching them perform in front of thousands and knowing it could have been me up there with them.

So, no, I wasn’t jealous of them exactly. I was jealous of what my life could have been if I wasn’t so damn stupid.

No matter how hard I wished things had turned out differently, my attempt at being a rock star had failed. I was done with that life, and in a few days I’d be moving home to Dallas, where my family would help me get my shit together. Ugh, talk about admitting defeat. And you could be damn sure my parents wouldn’t let me forget it either.

I spent a few minutes watching the crowd, admiring the geeky costumes. The party had a villain theme, of course, and I guessed most of the people were also attending San Diego Comic-Con at the convention center a few blocks away. Not me. When I’d heard my former band was playing a show as part of their tour for
The Sound
, I’d decided to come and make amends. I’d sneaked backstage the other night, and after we’d settled our differences, they’d invited me to this party. Now here I was, with my non-alcoholic drink, sitting alone at a bar.

If I stayed any longer, I was going to order a real drink and that would be a bad move. I wasn’t an alcoholic, but I tended to lose control when I drank and usually made some pretty terrible decisions. Like sleeping with Jared. Or quitting the band.

New plan: I’d finish my Coke, say hi to the band quickly, and then take off. I’d made an appearance at their party, so that should be enough. I’d probably never see any of them again after I moved to Dallas anyway.

Besides, I could really go for a cigarette right now. I was supposed to be quitting, but maybe I could have one outside the club to help ease me off. One and done. Not a big deal.

Just as I was about to stand up, Hector appeared at my side with another guy in tow. “Hey, Becca. Glad you could make it.” He pushed the guy forward a little. “This is Andy. Andy, Becca used to be the bassist in my band.”

I looked Andy up and down and smiled.
Hello, handsome
. Sure, he was a bit more preppy than the guys I usually went for, with slicked-back blond hair and no trace of stubble, wearing a black button-up shirt and dark blue jeans. But he had a face like an old-school movie star, all chiseled jaw and perfect cheekbones, and I decided preppy was perfect for tonight.

Okay, maybe I could stay a
little
while longer.

“Nice to meet you,” Andy said, shaking my hand. “I like your shirt.” His eyes flicked to my chest, which was the point of this tiny little tank top that read, “This
is
my slutty costume.” Good to know it was working.

“Thanks. I don’t do the whole costume thing,” I said.

“No, me neither.” He perched on the barstool next to me, while Hector ordered us another round of drinks before slipping back into the crowd. “So Hector said you’re moving to Dallas?”

“I am, yeah. In a few days.”

“Me too.”

“Is that so?” That must be why Hector had introduced us. Well, it couldn’t hurt to have a new friend in Dallas. Most of my high school friends had moved or gotten married and popped out a baby or two (not necessarily in that order). None of us kept in touch much anymore.

“Yep,” he said, running his fingers through his hair, messing it up a little. I decided he looked more like one of those sexy soccer players I’d drooled over during the World Cup than a movie star. Either way, it was hard to take my eyes off him. “I live in Boston now, but I’m starting a new job there in a few weeks. What about you?”

“I’m from there originally,” I said.

“Ah, a local. You’ll have to direct me to all the good restaurants.”

“Sure, although everything has probably changed since I lived there. I spent the last couple years in LA, trying to be a rock star. That obviously didn’t work out, so now I’m heading home with my tail between my legs.”

“Hector said you used to play bass for Villain Complex?”

“I did, but it wasn’t a good fit,” I said, blowing off the question as best I could. But then I looked at Andy’s face and wanted to tell him the truth. There was something about him—a sadness to his smile, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes, a tension in his shoulders—that made me think he might understand somehow. “Okay, that’s an excuse. What really happened was that I fucked everything up by getting drunk and sleeping with the lead singer. It made things uncomfortable between us, so I quit the band. Then they went and got all famous. Figures, right?”

“Ah.” He took a sip of his drink. Whiskey, from the smell of it. My mouth watered. “That sucks.”

“I don’t know why I’m even here. I guess I thought I’d try to patch things up with them, but it’s clear they don’t want anything to do with me.” I shrugged. “Not that I can blame them.”

“That’s why I’m here, too.” He tilted his head toward where the band was sitting. “That girl sitting with Hector? I asked her to marry me a few hours ago.”

“No shit?” I turned and checked her out. Oh, yes, the blonde I’d seen earlier. Who was now practically in Hector’s lap. “Guess she said no.”

“Yep.” Andy downed the last of his whiskey and slammed the glass down. “I thought I’d get some closure by coming to the party and telling Tara I wanted to be friends.” He gave a cynical laugh and shook his head. “That was a mistake.”

It was probably a sign of how fucked up a person I was, but seeing Andy hurting like that made me like him even more. His bitter sadness made him all that more sexy in my eyes, maybe because I could relate to it so well. The poor guy had just gotten his heart broken, and I decided right then that I wanted to ease his pain for the night—and ease mine at the same time. Maybe we could both make each other forget for at least a few hours.

I lightly trailed a finger down his forearm. “We should get out of here.”

“What, right now?” He blinked at me. “Where would we go?”

“We could get something to eat or…” Shit, this was probably another bad decision, and I wasn’t even drunk this time. But what the hell. I was so good at making bad decisions. “You have a hotel room?”

“I do, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting my gaze. “Becca, you’re incredibly sexy and going somewhere with you sounds…well, really damn tempting. But today I got dumped by my girlfriend, who seems to be screwing the guy I thought she was just friends with for the past year. I don’t think I’m ready to take anyone back to my hotel room at the moment.”

“Somewhere else, then. You pick.” I glanced over at the band’s booth again—‘cause I liked pain or something—and my throat clenched up seeing them all laughing together. “We can get something to eat or whatever. I don’t care. If I stay here any longer, I’ll lose my damn mind.”

“I’m not sure…”

“She keeps looking at you.”

His head jerked toward the blonde. “Probably checking to see if I’m over here sobbing into my drink and—” Andy stopped midsentence when his ex started kissing Hector. He frowned and looked away, and the misery on his face nearly broke my little black heart.

I leaned toward him and didn’t miss the way his eyes dipped down to my cleavage. “We should show them we’re both okay. No, that we’re even
better
without them.”

He lifted his gaze to meet mine, and in that look I knew that every bit of self-doubt, guilt and regret I felt—he felt it, too. “How?”

I hopped off my stool and moved closer, sliding my hands up his shirt. “Like this.”

The kiss caught him by surprise. I teased at his mouth with my lips, and at first I worried he would pull away. But after a second of hesitation, he relaxed and opened for me with a soft groan. His tongue slowly slid against mine, sending a rush of warmth between my legs.

Damn, Andy was a good kisser. Maybe I should go for preppy guys more often.

I pulled back to study his face, to make sure he was okay with this. If he wasn’t interested, I sure as hell wasn’t going to take advantage of him. Though judging from the way he kissed and the way his fingers dug into my hips, that wasn’t a problem.

“That was…unexpected,” he said, his voice husky.

“In a bad way or a good way?”

“Good. Definitely good.”

“Want to do it again?”

“God, yes.”

With something like a growl, he yanked me toward him, pulling me onto his lap. His mouth was rough against mine, demanding more, making me moan. He took my bottom lip between his teeth, and I could taste the need on his tongue.

When he deepened the kiss, it was easy to pretend the rest of the club didn’t exist, that there was nothing but this moment between us, and it was such a relief to not
think
anymore. I tugged at the buttons on his shirt, undoing the top ones, while his hands slid down my hips to my ass. He gave a little squeeze and I gasped, and then his mouth was covering mine again, greedy, desperate, hard.