My heart was pounding in my chest. I swallowed to clear a lump that had developed in my throat. "Okay, well . . . if you don’t mind, I’m trying to relax. If you want to talk about counting sheep or something, we can do it later in the day."

He paused for a moment, staring at me with a skeptical look. I kept a firm expression on my face until he eventually shrugged then turned to leave. I watched in anticipation as he got as far as the sundeck entrance, where he stopped.

"You know what," he said, "drinking in the morning does sound like a good idea." He turned back around and walked toward the bar. He inadvertently stepped on my top as he did so, sending a spike of fear through me. He flashed a smirk at me. "I think I’ll join you."

My stomach sank. Goddammit, Jax! He approached a barstool a few feet away from me and plopped his ridiculously nice ass down on it, making himself comfortable while I stared ruefully at the purple fabric like a child who’d dropped a prized possession down a grate. "Jax, I’m kind of busy right now—"

"So am I," he said with a heart-stopping smile as he poured from two bottles of amber liquid into a cocktail glass with ice cubes in it. "What are you drinking?"

"A mimosa," I said through gritted teeth, "since your band doesn’t seem to think good champagne is worth finishing."

He smiled nonchalantly. "Sounds delicious. Mine’s a Godfather. Scotch, amaretto. Brando’s favorite. Want some?" He took a sip of the drink, never taking his dark eyes off me.

"No," I said, barely concealing my irritation then nodded toward the towel cabinet beside him. My voice lightened. "Hey, can you throw me a towel?"

He looked briefly at the stack of towels. "You’ve got arms, grab one yourself." He raised the drink back to his lips and took a leisurely sip.

That ass**le!

"Why are you up, anyway?" he asked. "I’m usually the only one awake at this hour."

"Yeah, well, makes sense since you’re a vampire," I snapped, feeling like I was cornered and running out of options. I focused on keeping my eyes away from the bikini top, no matter how much I was tempted to make sure it didn’t blow further away. I had one last resort and that was to keep him distracted. "No need for sleep."

He nodded toward the rising sun with a wry half-smile on his face. "Your theory’s got some holes in it."

"No it doesn’t. Sun or not, you still suck."

His smile widened. "So why aren’t you asleep?" he reiterated, ignoring my barb.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. I sensed that the more I pushed, the more his interest in me grew. "Can’t really get a good night’s sleep on the couch, at least not yet. Combination of my internal clock and the hard seats."

"You could always sleep in my bed," he said so matter-of-factly that he might as well have been saying, you could always get a Diet Coke from the fridge.

"In your dreams," I replied, the memory of the crazy New York concert and Jax’s run from an angry mob still fresh in my mind. "I don’t get in bed with guys who almost get me killed twice in a week."

The wind picked up again, and the bikini top rolled end over end further away. Damn it. Fate was so cruel.

"You’re kidding yourself. I know you liked the danger. After all, you’re the most badass tour accountant I’ve ever met."

"Save the lines for someone else." I rolled my eyes again even though a small part of me was delighted by his compliment. Whatever game Jax was playing, it wasn’t one I wanted in on. Besides, if we played now, I’d be starting with a handicap of one item of clothing and a whole lot of dignity.

Without warning, he set his drink down, stood then walked over to the scrap of purple-and-green cloth. A wave of dread passed over me as he casually bent to pick up the bikini. He looked at it curiously as he dangled it between two fingers.

My eyes widened in horror.

"Did you see this?" he asked, waving the bikini.

Shit shit shit.

I was a wreck of negative emotions. "What?" I spluttered.

He tilted his head to the side for a moment, studying it. "One of the groupies must have left it behind."

My pulse leaped. Did he seriously think the top belonged to some other girl, or was he just playing around? I swallowed hard. "Yeah, must have."

"Then there’s no reason to keep it on the bus." Jax held the top over the ledge. Clenched in his fist, the bikini strings blew wildly in the wind.

"Don’t litter!" The words burst from my mouth hastily, and he cocked a brow. "Uh . . . the last thing the band needs is bad publicity for being a bunch of litterbugs . . . and being fined for littering. Let’s just toss it in the trash." It wouldn’t be a great place for my swimsuit, but at least my top wouldn’t be highway debris.

"The trash?" Jax said, his scarred eyebrow raised. "I’ve got a better idea."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a silver lighter and struck the flint. I watched with terror as he slowly moved the flame toward the dangling strings.

"Wait!"

"I know how you feel about groupies," he said, a flicker of amusement passing over his face. "I’m doing this for you." He brought the flame closer.

"No!" My hand raised desperately.

He paused to look at me oddly. "Why so reluctant? Wait. Don’t tell me. You want to do the honors." He gestured for me to get out of the tub and go over to where he was.

"Oh! Uh . . . sure," I said with a smile, realizing the opportunity. "Bring it over here to me. I’ll burn the hell out of it."

His eyes twinkled devilishly, making my heart thump hard in my chest. I hated how a simple look from him could have such an effect on me. It was impossible to deny his allure. "Nuh uh," he said wagging his finger.

"Nuh uh, what?" My nerves were on edge.

"How do you ask nicely? You’ve been unusually rude to me ever since I came up here."

"Ugh." I groaned so hard it sounded like I was about to vomit. Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy. He never made anything easy. "It’s not unusual. It’s how I typically act around you. Maybe you’re just sensitive."

"I’m waiting . . ." An expression of displeasure marred his beautiful face.

"Fine fine! ‘Please’? There I said it. Happy now?" I hoped he didn’t sense the desperation in my tone.

He crossed his large biceps across his chest, refusing to budge. "That the best you can do?"

"Pretty please?" I said, forcing my voice to sound sweet.

"See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?" He came toward me, holding the bikini in front of him, sending a surge of hope through me. When it was close enough, I reached for it . . . and grabbed nothing. Confused, I tried again. And missed again.

"Hey! No fair!" I shouted, realizing he was pulling it away. I grabbed for the top again, this time more forcefully.

"Who said anything about fair?" He took a step back just in time to leave me empty-handed.

I feinted grabbing to the left, then went to the right. Every movement I made was echoed by one of his, keeping the bikini tantalizingly out of reach. Ugh!