Return of the Bad Boy (Second Chance #4)
by Jessica Lemmon
He's a mess...
Asher Knight has three constants in his life: music, beautiful women, and a bottle of Jack. He lives for the next gig, the next city, and dreams only of a life spent in front of an arena full of screaming fans. But Asher's nomad ways come to a sudden stop when he learns he's the father of a three-year-old from a past relationship and suddenly this rock star bad boy is forced to put down roots.
Only she can clean up
Gloria Shields is no one's fool. Sure, the sexual chemistry between her and Asher has always been intense, but she'd never risk giving her heart to a man who has a perfect record for breaking them. Except the man desperate to make things right with his newfound son is nothing like the rock god she's guarded her heart against for years. And it isn't long before she starts to wonder if life with this bad boy might be the best thing that's ever happened to her.
“What BS were you telling Evan out there?” she asked.
His smile held. “Don’t worry about it, toots.”
He rested a palm on her hip, leaned past her, and lifted her wineglass. Gloria most certainly did not watch as he took a drink, then licked his lips when a single red droplet clung to his mouth. No, she did not. And she did not feel every internal organ lean a little closer to him while she forced her feet to stay firmly planted on the exact spot of the kitchen’s tiled floor. Nope. That didn’t happen, either.
“I’m here for the main course,” he told Charlie, relinquishing the wineglass to Gloria and holding out his hands. Charlie handed over the tray holding the burgers and dogs.
“Sarge, follow me out.”
“Because Evan is opening the whiskey and we’re all doing shots.” He sent Charlie a sharp smile. “Ace, you’re invited, too.”
“I’ll stick with wine, thanks.”
“Me too,” Gloria said.
Lyon ran through the kitchen, Tank following. “We’ll go out!”
“No whiskey for him either,” Charlie put in. “Give me this.” She swiped the tray and walked out to the patio, leaving Gloria and Asher in the kitchen.
Alone. Intentionally, no doubt.
“Not like you to turn down whiskey,” he told her.
“I’m trying to be a good guest. We fight when we drink whiskey.”
“That’s not all we do when we drink whiskey.” His smile was penetrating.
No. He was right about that. They also kissed. And hugged. Full-body, no-clothing-necessary kind of hugs. The best kind. Gah.
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