My eyes widened. "Are you saying I almost got beaten to a pulp all because you’re a homewrecker?" I asked. I thought about how I saved him from that scary guy with the dreadlocks and threw my hands up in exasperation. "I can’t believe this! I should’ve left you to get choked out by the Predator."

"Hey if I’d known she had a boyfriend," he said gruffly, "I wouldn’t have done it. She lied to me."

"Oh sure," I said, though it wasn’t hard to imagine a girl lying to get into his pants. Compared to the lengths women went through on Saturday night to be with him—myself included—lying was a small thing.

"I’m serious. Look, I didn’t mean to get you involved," he said, finishing the last of his drink. Then he looked at me carefully. "Wait there for a second."

He reached into a nearby cabinet, pulled out a first aid kit, and came over to the couch where he kneeled in front of me. "You’re hurt. Let me take care of it."

His concern surprised me enough to diminish my irritation. I only had a few bumps and scratches, but I was still shaken after what had happened. I tried putting on a strong face. "I’m fine."

His eyes flicked to my arm. "No, you’re not." He tried raising my right arm to see, but I pulled away when I saw a cut on his bottom lip. He was in much worse shape than I was.

"I’m fine," I repeated stubbornly. "It’s just a scratch. Besides, you should take care of yourself first. I saw you take some hard hits."

"Shut up, Pepper," he said gruffly. "And let me see it." He tried lifting my arm again and, seeing how determined he was to care for my wounds before his own, I grudgingly let him. He touched the skin on my elbow gently and I flinched. "Hold still," he said with a calm but firm tone.

"Fine," I relinquished.

As he unpacked the first aid kit in front of me, I accidentally glanced at his eyebrow scar and then couldn’t stop staring at it. I idly wondered if it came from a fight like the one we’d just had. On another face, it could’ve been a flaw. On Stud’s, it gave him a dangerous, dark edge that made my heart beat faster.

Something touched my elbow. "Ow! Fuck! Motherfu—" He gripped my forearm firmly, holding me steady. I bit my lip, allowing him to finish cleansing the wound with hydrogen peroxide.

He blew softly on my skin, soothing the area before applying a bandage. "You had a pretty bad cut but I cleaned out the dirt. Fortunately, you’re not gonna need stitches."

"Thanks," I said, cheeks heated. I was more surprised by his tenderness than I was about the state of my wound. I didn’t think he had this side to him.

"You helped me back there. It’s the least I can do." Still kneeling, he pulled out some more supplies and began to tend to his own wounds.

"Do you need any help?" I offered.

Shaking the hair from his eyes, he smiled and shot me a curious look. "Do you know why this mess happened in the first place? It’s because I trusted you that night."

My brows knitted together. "What?"

"I wouldn’t have slept with that girl if you hadn’t pulled that fast one on me, Pepper."

He’s blaming me for all of this? My warm fondness for him evaporated quicker than the rubbing alcohol he was applying to his cuts. "Oh my god. Look," I said sternly, "first my name’s not Pepper. It’s Riley. Second, I’m not your boner’s keeper."

His smile widened. "Riley, huh? I like that."

I waited for him to address the second part of my response. When he finished wrapping himself without answering, I realized his accusation had only been intended to push my buttons. That jerk. "Judging from what everyone around here says about you, you must be Jax. The man in charge," I said, using my fingers to make air quotes.

His smile faded. "You didn’t already know?"

"No, I didn’t know your name or even the name of your band until today."

He looked genuinely perplexed. "You’re telling me you showed up here without knowing anything about me or my band?"

"Yes, your label hired us last minute. All the files used the term 'HC' to refer to your band. I only now just figured out it stands for ‘The Hitchcocks’."

"Wait," he said, his eyes widening. "You’re the new tour accountant?"

Now I was the confused one. "What did you think I was?"

A moment passed and a devilish smile appeared on his lips. "Interesting."

Oh no. I knew that look. I’d seen it before, backstage at the Wallabee. It was the same one I remember picturing as I pleasured myself at the tail-end of that night. "Whatever you’re thinking, stop thinking about it."

The way his gaze on me intensified began to make me ache in other places. "I’m just thinking about what a pleasure it’ll be working with you . . . " he said, the word pleasure rolled off his tongue like a silk ribbon, sensuous and inviting, ". . . if our first meeting was any indication."

Anxiety returned as more implications sunk in. I recalled Kristen’s advice about not mixing business with pleasure and realized that I already had, even before my first day on the assignment. God. Fuuuck my life.

"Shh!" I hissed, holding my finger to my lips. I dared to lean closer to that savagely beautiful face and whispered harshly, "I had no idea who you were at the time. Don’t tell anyone that happened. I could be fired if my company finds out."

His devilish smile spread provocatively. "Of course not. We’ll keep it just between us."

I took a deep, calming breath. The way he used the word "us" didn’t sit well with me at all, and I realized that I’d probably need more than breathing techniques to get my heart rate fully back down to normal.

"We might’ve had an . . . unusual introduction, Jax. But from here on out, our relationship’s going to be strictly professional. That means no kissing. No flashing your c**k at me. None of that. Capisce?" I said, jabbing my finger into the air for emphasis.

I needed to be forceful with him from the start. I needed to establish distance between us and professional boundaries we wouldn’t cross. Otherwise, I could easily see myself being in more trouble than I could handle.

He gently took my unsteady hand and clasped it between his warm palms. "Everything you’re saying is exactly what I want to hear," he said evenly.

I blinked a few times. Did he just agree with me? I’d mentally prepared a few more responses in case he didn’t get the message, but he seemed strangely agreeable. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," he said, lifting my chin gently so I looked directly into his eyes. "I like a challenge."

Minutes later, I was seated on the edge of the couch, pinching the bridge of my nose, exasperated.

I’d tried talking sense into Jax after he’d made his intentions clear, but it was like talking to a wall. He’d got up, put the medical kit away, and said he was going to have someone give me a tour of the bus while he cleaned up. Then he disappeared upstairs.

Unbelievable. As if almost getting killed a few minutes ago wasn’t bad enough. Now the rock god who I’d given blue balls to was my company’s client—essentially my boss in some ways—and he was determined to finish what he’d started that night backstage. The situation was even worse than I’d imagined.