Pure Wicked: A Wicked Lovers Novella (1001 Dark Nights) by Shayla Black Page A

radio still hummed in the background, now playing a new song of Jesse McCall’s. She grinned when she remembered the crush she’d had on him in high school. The new song was infectious and a little biting, with a hint of sexy, but she liked it. When it ended, the deejay took over the airwaves.
    “Scandal has been good for McCall’s new album. It’s number one in its second week. An official statement says he deeply regrets the overdose of a fan and the suicide of his bandmate. His publicist says he’s taking some time off to grieve, but a source close to the singer says no one has seen or heard from him in days. One of our listeners e-mailed this morning to say they think they saw him recently at Bubba Oink’s Bone Yard, cozying up to a brunette. Anyone else spot him?” The deejay laughed. “While y’all speculate on that, I’ve got another tune coming your way from Bruno Mars.”
    Presleigh and Hayden’s engagement party had been at Bubba Oink’s. Bristol would have liked to spot Jesse McCall there, to see if he was as hot in person as he was in pictures. During high school, she’d had a notebook with him on the front, and she’d loved staring into his dark eyes during geometry and fantasizing…
    She put the brakes on that thought. Dark eyes. Bubba Oink’s. A man without a last name who was taking a little time off from work and didn’t want to talk about his past…
    No, that man in her bed could not be Jesse McCall. They didn’t look that much alike, did they? That thought must be her overactive imagination stretching. Still, she withdrew her phone and launched her browser, bringing up images of the singer. None of them showed him with short hair or a skullcap or a clean-shaven face. But now that she looked closely, the shape of the face seemed similar. In most images he wore earrings, sometimes more than one. Jamie didn’t sport any, but she’d noticed three empty holes in each ear. His eyes looked like a dead ringer for the rock star’s.
    Bristol scrolled a bit more, then came to an image that made her blood freeze in shock. Jesse McCall shirtless, with the same tribal tattoo on the same shoulder that she’d traced with her fingers, her tongue.
    It was possible Jamie had gotten the ink to look like Jesse.
    Or maybe Jesse McCall was hiding out in her apartment from the rest of the world and whiling away his time by having sex with her until his most recent media storm died down.
    It seemed crazy, almost impossible. Almost…but not quite. Either way, she needed the truth.
    Trying not to shake, she brought up Jayla’s contact on her phone and called.
    “Hey, girl!” her friend answered.
    “Can you come over here and mind the restaurant for a bit? Everything is made. All you have to do is work a cash register.” Bristol’s voice shook with anger. If what she suspected was true, then he’d deceived her. He’d preyed on a woman who’d recently recovered from another asshole, using her without a care for how she’d feel.
    “Is something wrong?”
    “Maybe. I need…” Bristol didn’t want to explain now. She didn’t want to do anything but get to the truth. “Can you?”
    “Sure thing. I’ll be there in fifteen. What are you going to do?”
    “I might be giving our friend Jamie a huge piece of my mind.”
     

Chapter Six
    The sound of a slamming door woke Jesse. He sat up in bed, disoriented. Immediately, he knew he wasn’t in a hotel room—thank god—but in Bristol’s bedroom. The whole place smelled like her, something that teased his senses with cinnamon and woman. He glanced at the clock and frowned. Had she come back for lunch?
    He heard footsteps marching down the hall, coming at him rapidly. That didn’t sound like the gait of a happy woman.
    Jesse swung his feet over the side of the bed and shoved on his pants. He was buttoning them when he caught sight of Bristol as she reached the doorway, looking tense and barely shy of furious.
    “What’s wrong, honey?” A nasty