It sounded like an idyllic childhood, but there was something beneath, a dark pulse of anger. Molly wanted to ask about it, wanted to learn every piece of him, but knew instinctively that it would be too profound an intimacy. She didn’t want to put him in the position of having to push her back, of fracturing the painful beauty of this instant when it was only Molly and Fox talking to one another.

No past that had altered the course of her life. No present where he lived in a world in which Molly simply couldn’t survive. No future where he’d be only a heartbreaking memory.

Keeping her silence and stifling her hunger to know this complex, talented man both in and out of bed, she fell asleep to the rhythm of his voice, only to wake to the unadulterated demand of his kiss.

Going back to work on Tuesday felt like stepping into a different world. She and Fox had spent the whole of Monday together as well, the day a lazy, playful one.

Her rock star had no inhibitions in bed and coaxed the same openness from her. “That’s it, baby,” he’d say, encouraging her to taste, to explore, to indulge and be indulged, his voice a finely honed instrument of which she couldn’t get enough.

“Earth to Molly.”

Molly jerked when a slender hand waved in front of her face. “What? Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Her colleague laughed. “Must’ve been some weekend—you were on another planet.”

Flushing guiltily, Molly reined in her wayward thoughts and focused on work. Three hours passed before she checked her phone—a deliberate act of willpower on her part—to find a message from Fox inviting her to the island hotel Schoolboy Choir had booked out, for a casual dinner with “the boys.”

Just meat on the grill, forget the greens, he’d added. And Noah lost a bet with Abe, so he’s making his (in)famous passion fruit cheesecake.

Molly’s fingers trembled. Putting down the phone before she dropped it, she went to help at the desk as the seniors’ book club came en masse to check out their selections for the week.

It wasn’t until forty-five minutes later, while she was on her lunch break, that she picked up the phone again. She didn’t know what to say, what to do, but she did know it was dead certain at least one aggressive member of the paparazzi had to have followed Schoolboy Choir to the island. Lusted after by millions of women and idolized by as many men, Fox, Noah, Abe, and David were too good for business to leave alone.

Wanting to be wrong, to be proven needlessly paranoid, she opened a browser window on her phone and input a news search for the band’s name. It took a split second for the search engine to show her several images of the villa-style hotel Schoolboy Choir had booked, as well as a couple of shots of two of the band members—Abe and Noah—throwing a football around on the beach.

Below that was a photograph of David diving into the undoubtedly freezing water.

The final image was of Noah and Fox leaning on the balcony railing of a waterfront apartment, the image clearly taken from somewhere on the ground. Molly recognized Fox’s T-shirt; it was the one he’d worn the first night at the party.

The caption made her tongue go dry, her breath coming so fast she knew she was in danger of a panic attack: The local female fans are apparently extending a warm welcome—Noah was spotted returning to his apartment around four in the morning, while a source tells us Fox spent the entire night with a lucky mystery woman!

Screwing her eyes shut, Molly ignored the roaring in her ears and concentrated on doing the breathing exercise the school counselor had taught her back when the scandal first broke. It took several minutes, but she was eventually able to read the article associated with the apartment photo.

A wracking shudder of relief.

The article was pure fluff, the “source” probably created in the reporter’s imagination in order to spice up the photo editorial, which was heavily focused on Noah’s shirtless upper body.

Did you know, she messaged Fox, there are already photos online of the band on the island—and at your apartment building?

Grill’s out back in an enclosed space the paps can’t get at, came the reply. I’ll pick you up at eight.

The message was so Fox, confident and take charge, and if Molly was honest with herself, she liked that about him… but some risks she couldn’t take. No, she wrote back, I’ll see you another night.

The phone rang in her hand a second later. “I’m not changing my mind,” she said, before he could charm her into exactly that.

“Don’t worry, baby.” The grit and sex of his voice made her body ache, but more dangerous was the effect he had on her heart. “We know how to avoid the cameras when necessary—it’s why we give the paps an easy shot now and then, so the bastards stay lazy and don’t dig.”

She couldn’t bear to miss even a single night with him, wanted badly to give in, but her stomach churned at the idea of her past being dug up by the voracious media, of the nightmare beginning again. Sweat broke out along her spine. “No, Fox. I can’t risk it.”

“You’re being overcautious.” Edgy frustration, a kiss of the temper she’d already come up against once. “Even if someone snaps you from a distance, it won’t be a huge deal.”

Fingers clenching on the phone, she said, “It would be to me,” and hung up. A lump choking her throat as she fought the tears, she stared unseeing at the wall in front of her. Maybe he didn’t know her history, but she’d told him how much it meant to her to stay out of the spotlight.

And he’d said it didn’t matter.

Despite her angry hurt, she couldn’t help checking her phone an hour later, a cold tightness inside her. There were no further messages from Fox.

Exiting the elevator of her apartment building at six that night, Molly found herself searching for a tall male form leaning against the wall, guitar by his side. Her gut-wrenching disappointment when Fox wasn’t there offered an agonizing preview of exactly how much it would hurt if she never saw him again. Pushing through the door after unlocking it, she dumped her stuff and sat down on the bench to take off her shoes—and remembered what Fox had done to her in this spot.

“Stop it,” she ordered herself, but it wasn’t that easy. Fox had left his mark on her entire apartment.

She lasted an hour before she couldn’t stand the memories anymore. Picking up the phone, she called Charlotte. Her best friend was working late but fell in happily with the idea of dinner down at the Viaduct, that section of the waterfront always vibrant with life.

“So,” she asked, after meeting Charlotte in the lobby of her building, “how’s it going with the new boss?” Maybe the jagged knot in her chest would unravel if she just didn’t think about Fox.

“Honestly, after that disaster over the weekend, I’ve tried to stay out of his way.” A groan at the mention of a dinner she’d described in a text message as Silent Charlie-mouse waiting for the growling, bad-tempered predator to eat her. “He’s causing carnage in management. Two new firings today.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right? Anyway, enough about T-Rex.”

“What?” Molly laughed at the look on her friend’s face, Charlotte’s cheeks pink at having been caught out. It eased some of the tension in her body, though it did nothing to ease the ache deep inside her. “T-Rex?”

“He’s big, scary, and people run when they see him coming.” With that succinct description, Charlotte slipped her arm through the crook of Molly’s as they walked out into a night that actually wasn’t as cold as it could’ve been. “Do you want to get ice cream first and find a good spot to watch the water? Radio said there’s a super yacht coming in soon. Might be fun to see some gazillionaire’s fancy boat.”