Sins of the Flesh (Exposed Series Book 1) Read Free Page A

if he weren’t in a band, he could’ve worked as a Dennis
Quaid impersonator.
    “Whiskey?” he asked.
    “Please,” I said, sitting on the couch beside him. I watched him
pour. “You’re still on the Jack?”
    He offered a cheeky smile. “My first true love.” He laughed and
passed me the glass. “Besides you, of course.”
    I rolled my eyes. “You had at least fifty true loves before me.”
    “Actually, you were 42 nd by my count, but you gotta
make every girl believe she’s number one, right?”
    “If you say so.”
    He held his glass up to mine. “42 nd best summer of my
life.”
    I clinked his glass and laughed. “That’s not even possible.”
    “Summer is a state of mind.”
    I flinched.
    “You remember you used to say that?”
    “That was a long time ago,” I said. “I used to do a lot of
hippie shit back then that I don’t do anymore.”
    “Nonsense,” he said. “You’ll always be Dirty Dawn to me.” He
gave me a filthy wink that made me feel like a teenager again.
    I shook my head. I couldn’t believe his blue eyes could still
pinch me on the inside like that. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to
have a man’s full attention. Or rather, the attention of a man who wasn’t
paying me to listen to his problems.
    “I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.”
    “Neither have you,” he said.
    I crossed my legs.
    “I’m glad you could come. Shelly’s sick so she can’t help us out
tonight.”
    Sick. The word made my throat close up. I swallowed. “You’re
still singing with Shelly?”
    “She married Dave.”
    “She didn’t!”
    “Let’s just say the band isn’t as edgy as it used to be.” He
pushed some hair out of his eyes, revealing the same red bandana he’d been
wearing at gigs since I met him. “A lot of the guys have kids. Wives.
Mortgages.”
    “Real life will sneak up on you like that.”
    He sighed. “I’d go crazy if we couldn’t do live shows, though.
Really I would.”
    “And what about you Mick? You settled down?”
    “Never settle. That’s what I say.”
    “Still living on your own terms then?”
    “I’m afraid so. You?” he asked, topping up his glass. “You still
partying every night and breaking hearts like they were cheap shot glasses?”
    “I would never-”
    “Bullshit. You used to put the rest of us to shame with your
wild ways. I couldn’t believe you got my message the other day. I bet the guys
you were either dating a billionaire and sleeping on pillows stuffed with pure
cocaine or a Madame running your own brothel in Amsterdam.”
    “Jesus, Mick.”
    “I was kind of disappointed you even answered my message to say you
were still here.” His blue eyes smiled. “Until I realized I’d get to see you,
of course.”
    I put my arm on the armrest and wondered if I shouldn’t have
come.  Maybe it would’ve been better for me to remain a mystery.
    “So what have you been doing with yourself?” he asked, moving
some rolled up gig posters so he could lean back on the couch.
    “Waiting for your call, Mick. Waiting to get the band back
together.”
    “Lies,” he said. “You never really gave a shit about our music.
You just liked being center stage. What have you really been doing?”
    “I’m a counselor, actually. I mostly work with couples.”
    His face scrunched up like he’d eaten a worm. “In an office?”
    “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking what do I know
about being in a relationship?”
    “No, not at all. Hell, you’ve had more relationships than anybody
I know.”
    “So what’s with the face?”
    “I’m just laughing at how torturous that must be for you to
sugarcoat things and choose your words carefully. It must be exhausting for
you.”
    “Believe it or not, I’m not as tactless as I once was.”
    “You like it?”
    I shrugged. “Sometimes. If I can help somebody.”
    He was quiet and just looked at me for a second like I was a
rare bird that had flown abruptly into view.
    And he kept