When Cassidy Evans scores VIP tickets to a concert, she decides to use them for one carefree night before beginning a summer internship at her father’s Fortune 500 company. But one carefree night turns into a few too many martinis—with two unexpected twists: A steamy encounter with Gage Logan, sexy singer and guitarist, and a tempting job offer from Gage's boss to work at the concert venue she now knows quite intimately.
She definitely can't take the job. Her internship is an opportunity any business major would kill for. But the thought of working with her father, a man furious with grief over a family tragedy that struck six months ago, fills her with dread.
Then there's Gage. Working with him all summer could be hot. Cassidy can't stop flashing back to their night together. Molten kisses. His hands smoothing across the skin of her belly. The weight of his body above her own…
And suddenly the decision about how to spend her summer is much, much harder to make.
About the Author
Riley lives in the DC area and spends most of her time with her characters, playing with her toddler and husband, and pretending she knows how to be an adult. Former dancer. Current writer. Lifelong lover of accessories, books, and the beach. And cats. Can't forget the kitties. Of which she has two.
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I wonder if he's going to kiss me.
I hope he's going to kiss me.
I try to convey the message with my eyes, but he's a little blurred around the edges and I'm not sure I'm even focusing exactly where I should be, much less able to send any sort of meaning through a glance.
He keeps talking, talking, talking. Something about bands. Something about where he's from. Something, something, something, but I keep forgetting his words the moment they breeze through his mouth.
He's asking me questions. I'm giving him answers, though I can't be certain of their accuracy. We're laughing a lot, so I must be keeping him entertained. Or maybe it's the other way around.
It's quiet for a beat too long—he's waiting for me to say something else, to answer a question, but I've lost track of all our words again.
And he's meeting my eyes and then gazing lower toward my mouth. I realize I'm biting my lip, but it's got his attention so I keep it between my teeth, tugging a little.
"There you go distracting me again." His mouth parts into a wolfish grin. "But this time you're doing it on purpose, aren't you?"
Maybe, I almost tell him, but Demi Jade's first chords strike through the air, interrupting the word before it has a chance to come out.
"So much for making the concert," I say instead.
"So much for it," he agrees.
We stare at each other for a moment that yawns out into eons. One second we're listening to Demi Jade sing about her lost lover and the next the world goes silent around me. There's an electric pause—like that moment after a violent thunderclap, when everything else is sucked away—and then my mouth is on his, or his is on mine, and he's teasing my lips with his tongue. I let him in, and he tastes like beer and like salt and like mint.
Jesus, he's talented with his tongue.
His hands wrap around my waist and he yanks me toward him and my hands are in his hair and I want to eat his fucking mouth, he tastes so good.