she
thought. Though probably not up to the standard of the kind of women Jackson
hung out with. When she’d caught him cheating, it had been with some insanely
beautiful groupie types. Jazz’s caramel skin was still line free and her dark
eyes usually looked pretty good when she slapped on some eye shadow. She nodded
to her reflection, settling for black eye shadow and eyeliner.
Of course,
she didn’t have purple hair anymore. She’d grown out her short spiky do and
instead opted for the dip dyed look. Her dark brown hair spiralled into a golden
colour at the ends. It suited her. Made her look more grown up. Which was the
real reason she’d originally done it. Nobody took the little rock chick
seriously when she was trying to set up finance for the bar.
But
everyone has to grow up at some point, right?
Slicking
on some lip gloss, she brushed her fingers over her brows to neaten them and
went back to the kitchen to debate the contents of her fridge. A half-eaten
sandwich still sat in its wrapper from yesterday.
“Gross,”
she said, aloud but still ate it, hunger erasing her scruples.
Chucking
the wrapper in the bin, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and drew in a
breath. “Here goes nothing.”
Jackson
would be here in the next few hours and tonight would be the most important
night of her life. Tonight would decide whether her business would fail or
succeed. All she had to do was be polite to the guy who broke her heart. She
crossed her fingers.
“It better
damned well be worth it,” she muttered under her breath.
Chapter Two
Jackson
paused outside the club to admire it. He grinned. So Jazz had actually done it.
She’d sworn she’d buy the bar when they were kids and she’d actually done it.
But of course she had. Jackson had never known anyone as determined as Jazz.
And if anyone could match her determination it was him.
He was
back and he was determined. By the end of the night, Jasmine Moreno would be
his again.
When he
pushed open the door to the bar, shafts of light dazzled him. A stage sat at
one end of the club and someone was clearly testing the lights. He took a
moment to let his vision adjust and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets as
he studied the place. Damn, it looked fucking good.
Fifteen-year-old
Jazz had spent hours designing the inside of her dream bar and he had to admit,
she’d done a good job. He could still remember her excitedly showing him the
drawings. She was so cute and funny. He could swear her determination was half
the reason their relationship survived through college unlike so many other
childhood sweethearts.
His heart
sank as he remembered other things too. Like the look on her face when she’d
come to surprise him when he was in New York. Unfortunately their relationship
didn’t survive his band’s success. And he’d hardly done anything to help it.
He’d never cheated on Jazz. Never. But as the lead singer and guitarist, hot
women threw themselves at him constantly. He flirted and enjoyed the attention,
never thinking how his girlfriend back home might feel when he didn’t answer
her texts or take the time to email her.
Fuck, he’d
been an idiot.
An old
guy—a stereotypical old rocker—with long grey hair tied back in a ponytail and
a faded Deff Leopard T-shirt approached, drawing him from his thoughts, and
greeted him with a grin,
“Jackson
Wilde,” he stated rather than asked as he offered him a hand.
“Hi.”
Jackson took the guy’s hand and shook it firmly.
“Thought
you weren’t due for a few hours yet. You’ll be hanging around for a while I’m
‘fraid. I’m Lenny, by the way. In charge of sound and lights.”
“Good to
meet you.” Jackson grinned. “I thought I’d come take a good look at the bar and
maybe catch up with some old friends.”
“Oh, yeah,
that’s right. You grew up here, didn’t you? Jazz mentioned you knew each other.
‘Spose that’s how she managed to get an act like you here.” The old guy
thought. Though probably not up to the standard of the kind of women Jackson
hung out with. When she’d caught him cheating, it had been with some insanely
beautiful groupie types. Jazz’s caramel skin was still line free and her dark
eyes usually looked pretty good when she slapped on some eye shadow. She nodded
to her reflection, settling for black eye shadow and eyeliner.
Of course,
she didn’t have purple hair anymore. She’d grown out her short spiky do and
instead opted for the dip dyed look. Her dark brown hair spiralled into a golden
colour at the ends. It suited her. Made her look more grown up. Which was the
real reason she’d originally done it. Nobody took the little rock chick
seriously when she was trying to set up finance for the bar.
But
everyone has to grow up at some point, right?
Slicking
on some lip gloss, she brushed her fingers over her brows to neaten them and
went back to the kitchen to debate the contents of her fridge. A half-eaten
sandwich still sat in its wrapper from yesterday.
“Gross,”
she said, aloud but still ate it, hunger erasing her scruples.
Chucking
the wrapper in the bin, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and drew in a
breath. “Here goes nothing.”
Jackson
would be here in the next few hours and tonight would be the most important
night of her life. Tonight would decide whether her business would fail or
succeed. All she had to do was be polite to the guy who broke her heart. She
crossed her fingers.
“It better
damned well be worth it,” she muttered under her breath.
Chapter Two
Jackson
paused outside the club to admire it. He grinned. So Jazz had actually done it.
She’d sworn she’d buy the bar when they were kids and she’d actually done it.
But of course she had. Jackson had never known anyone as determined as Jazz.
And if anyone could match her determination it was him.
He was
back and he was determined. By the end of the night, Jasmine Moreno would be
his again.
When he
pushed open the door to the bar, shafts of light dazzled him. A stage sat at
one end of the club and someone was clearly testing the lights. He took a
moment to let his vision adjust and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets as
he studied the place. Damn, it looked fucking good.
Fifteen-year-old
Jazz had spent hours designing the inside of her dream bar and he had to admit,
she’d done a good job. He could still remember her excitedly showing him the
drawings. She was so cute and funny. He could swear her determination was half
the reason their relationship survived through college unlike so many other
childhood sweethearts.
His heart
sank as he remembered other things too. Like the look on her face when she’d
come to surprise him when he was in New York. Unfortunately their relationship
didn’t survive his band’s success. And he’d hardly done anything to help it.
He’d never cheated on Jazz. Never. But as the lead singer and guitarist, hot
women threw themselves at him constantly. He flirted and enjoyed the attention,
never thinking how his girlfriend back home might feel when he didn’t answer
her texts or take the time to email her.
Fuck, he’d
been an idiot.
An old
guy—a stereotypical old rocker—with long grey hair tied back in a ponytail and
a faded Deff Leopard T-shirt approached, drawing him from his thoughts, and
greeted him with a grin,
“Jackson
Wilde,” he stated rather than asked as he offered him a hand.
“Hi.”
Jackson took the guy’s hand and shook it firmly.
“Thought
you weren’t due for a few hours yet. You’ll be hanging around for a while I’m
‘fraid. I’m Lenny, by the way. In charge of sound and lights.”
“Good to
meet you.” Jackson grinned. “I thought I’d come take a good look at the bar and
maybe catch up with some old friends.”
“Oh, yeah,
that’s right. You grew up here, didn’t you? Jazz mentioned you knew each other.
‘Spose that’s how she managed to get an act like you here.” The old guy
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