Well, he’d find out in a moment if Jude was still in one piece. Jude had left his apartment to change clothes at home, and they’d agreed to arrive separately. A.J. had been afraid to even park beside Jude’s car, as if that might somehow tip everyone else off about last night’s “sleeping” arrangements.

  At the door, he paused to twist a crick out of his back. This was going to be one long rehearsal. Good thing they weren’t recording yet. And a damn good thing they weren’t performing.

  He took a deep swallow of coffee, then continued into the building.

  As he stepped off the elevator on the third floor, his heart dropped into his feet. He was still four doors down from where the band would be rehearsing, and he could already hear shouting. Perfect way to start the day.

  “Christ,” he muttered into his coffee cup. “What now?”

  As he neared the open door, the shouting became actual words instead of indistinct, angry noise.

  “If it’s not a fucking priority, then just say so,” Connor snarled.

  “Don’t put words in my mouth,” Jude threw back. “And it’s not just my schedule that’s the problem. You and Kristy have booked all of us within an inch of our lives after we’ve all been out on the road, so—”

  “You weren’t even on the road with us that long!” Connor’s sharp sigh was audible even from out in the hall. “What the hell do you have to bitch about?”

  “Connor, for fuck’s sake—”

  Right then, Shiloh stepped out of the studio and closed the door behind her, cutting off most of the shouting. She exhaled hard, and rolled her eyes.

  “Sounds like the day’s off to a good start.”

  She jumped as she turned to him. “Oh, hey. Morning.” Glancing over her shoulder, she frowned. “They’ve been at it for the last hour. Somehow I don’t think Connor will be rehearsing much today.”

  A.J. scowled. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, who knows?” She rubbed her temples. “He was okay earlier, but the minute Jude walked in . . .”

  His blood turned cold. “What? Why?”

  “Why?” Shiloh laughed. “Honey, you’ve been around them long enough. This”—she gestured over her shoulder—“has been a spat waiting to happen ever since Jude came back. Now let’s go get some breakfast while they get it out of their systems.”

  She started down the hall. His stomach knotted as the shouting continued behind the closed door. The acoustics swallowed up most of the words, but the fury was palpable even from here.

  “A.J.?”

  He turned.

  Shiloh raised her eyebrows. “You coming?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I—” He threw the door one last look, then followed her down the hall. If the fur was flying between Jude and Connor, he didn’t want to be anywhere nearby.

  As they waited for the elevator, he asked, “What are they arguing about, anyway?”

  Shiloh groaned. “Connor booked a photographer for the album artwork.” The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. She stabbed the button with her thumb. “Jude said something about having a possible scheduling conflict, and . . . well, there they went.”

  The doors closed, and A.J.’s stomach dropped faster than the elevator.

  “These guys. I just . . .” Shiloh kneaded the back of her neck. “They were exhausting back then, and now . . . Fuck.”

  A.J. chewed the inside of his cheek. “So it’s just schedule bullshit?”

  “This time,” she muttered. “I mean, you know Connor. He’s got that tendency to commit us to things like this without making sure everyone’s free. And yeah, it’s annoying, but hey, at least someone’s getting shit done. Kristy’s got so much on her plate, and I’m not very good at . . .” She waved her hand. “Anyway. So Jude asked him about the dates, and if it was written in blood or if there was a possibility of rescheduling, and off they went.”

  He could see Connor flying off the handle like that, but Jude? “Really? That’s it?”

  She laughed humorlessly as the elevator lurched to a stop. “Here’s the thing with those two.” They stepped out and headed toward the ground-floor café. “If they’re screaming at each other, you can almost guarantee that whatever they’re screaming about is not what they’re actually fighting about.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because neither of them can communicate for shit. You’ve got Connor and his insane temper. Then you’ve got Jude and that damned impulsive streak. The minute one pisses the other off, Connor blows up and Jude goes off and does something stupid.” She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Sunrise, sunset.”

  His stomach twisted. “Any idea what they are fighting about this time?”

  She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Let’s hope my guess is wrong, and Connor doesn’t have a clue.

  In the café they grabbed some food, paid, and took the table by the window. He sat down gingerly, wincing as every ache and twinge reminded him of that long, long night.

  As he sipped his coffee, Shiloh picked at the muffin she’d bought. “So you and Jude go out partying last night or something?”

  A.J. nearly spat coffee all over her, but managed to choke it down. “What?”

  She laughed. “He came limping in this morning like he’d been run over by a truck. And now you’re—” Abruptly, her expression hardened. “A.J. . . .”

  He cleared his throat, struggling to hold her gaze.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Where were you last night?”

  I’m guessing “inside Jude” is not the right answer here . . .

  He coughed again to get his breath moving. “Am I suddenly—”

  “Cut the crap.” She set her jaw. “If something happened between you and Jude, I would suggest—”

  “What the hell, Shiloh?” He threw up his hands, nearly unloading his coffee in the process. “I’m moving a little slow this morning, and suddenly you think I was screwing around with Jude?”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. Folding her arms, she asked coolly, “Were you?”

  “What makes you think I was?”

  She chewed her lip, her eyes darting down for a moment before meeting his again. Then she pushed her muffin away. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. It . . . I shouldn’t have . . .” She showed her palms. “I’m sorry, A.J.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he muttered. As he replayed the conversation in his head, though, his tone made him cringe. “I’m sorry too, by the way. For getting so defensive. I . . . didn’t mean . . .”

  “It’s okay.” She faced him and smiled. “I deserved it.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Honey, I accused you of sleeping with a bandmate.” She covered her face with her hands for a moment, then dropped them and looked him in the eye. “I’m so sorry. I’m just . . . I’m so worried about the band.”

  A.J. swallowed. “You think history’s going to repeat itself?”

  She nodded. “The band has almost fallen apart twice thanks to members screwing around with each other, and I guess with as volatile as those two have been all morning, I’m . . .” She slouched in her chair. “God, I don’t even know. The thing is, when Wyatt quit, I was scared things would fall apart. It was even worse when Jude left because we thought we’d missed our shot at a record deal. And now, I mean, ever since Jude came back, I’ve been waiting for . . . something to happen. Like he’s just here temporarily, and right when we need him the most, shit’s going to hit the fan somehow and send him packing again.” She leaned forward, pressing her fingers into her temples. “How many more times will this band survive that kind of thing, you know?”

  He absently turned his coffee cup between his fingers and shifted in his chair, the twinges in his hips reminding him how right Shiloh was about his whereabouts last night.

  She lowered her hands, and when she met his gaze, her eyes looked exhausted. “We’ve all worked so hard for this. It just pisses me off how it can be built up by half a dozen people, and completely wrecked by one. Or two, I guess.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” He sipped his coffee and didn’t taste it. “Maybe a year and a half was long enough for both of them to mature though.”

  She snorted. “You heard them. They haven’t changed.” She picked at her muffin again. “All I can do is hope they don’t start fucking again.”

  His mouth went dry. “Hypothetically, if they did—”

  “I would choke the shit out of both of them.” The hard edge of her tone left him wondering if she was exaggerating at all.

  “Well.” He muffled a cough. “Let’s hope they don’t.”

  “Yeah. Let’s hope.”

  By the time Shiloh and A.J. returned to the studio, the shouting had ceased. Connor was nursing a cup of hot tea, probably to soothe his throat, and the guitarists were tuning their instruments.

  “Feel better?” Shiloh asked through clenched teeth.

  Connor shot her a glare. “Let it go.”

  “I could say the same to you,” she growled. “You’re going to kill your voice and—”

  “Guys,” A.J. said, quietly and cautiously. “We only have the room for a few more hours. Where’s Jude?”

  “Smoking,” Connor muttered.

  “Should I go get him?” A.J. asked. “So we can get started?”

  Shiloh’s eyes darted toward Connor, but then she sighed and rolled her shoulders. “Yeah. You know where the smoke pit is?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He left the studio and headed out to the balcony that the smokers used. Sure enough, Jude was standing out there, gazing at the hills with a cigarette between his fingers.

  As A.J. shut the door behind him, Jude turned around. They both tensed. Jude took a deep drag, lowered his gaze, and then faced the hills again.

  A.J. stopped beside him. “Sounded like things got pretty rough with Connor.”

  “Sorry you had to hear that.”

  “It’s okay. You all right?”

  Jude nodded. The hand holding his cigarette shook slightly. Nicotine? Adrenaline? Nerves? Hard to say. “Just needed a minute.”

  “Did you guys sort out the schedule?”

  Jude half shrugged. “As much as we ever will. Just annoys the shit out of me that he expects the whole band to be at his beck and call without so much as checking.” He brought the cigarette up but lowered it again without taking a drag. “Richie and Vanessa both told him three times last week that they had shit going on, and now they’ll have to shuffle it around so they can be at that photo shoot, which is a pain in the ass for both of them. I mean, we only get a little bit of time at home before we’re back out on the road again. Anything we need to get done, we have to do it now. Richie’s trying to get some dental work done; Vanessa’s . . . I’m not even sure what she’s doing, but you get the idea.”

  A.J. nodded. “Yeah, I get it.”

  “Anyway.” Jude finally took a drag. “I called him out, he lost his temper, and . . .”

  “So I saw.”

  Jude deflated. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not a fan of conflict.”

  “Can’t really be avoided.” A.J. paused. “And, uh, speaking of which . . .”

  Jude faced him, eyebrows up.

  “While you two were fighting, Shiloh and I had an interesting conversation.”

  “Oh yeah? What about?”

  “Us. Kind of.”

  Jude’s eyes widened. “Does she . . . You didn’t tell her, did you?”

  “No. But she suspected it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she noticed that neither of us was walking very comfortably this morning.”

  “Oh.” Jude looked out at the hills again. “Shit. But you shot it down? Told her we—”

  “Yeah, I took care of that part.” He swallowed. “The thing is, she was really stressed about you and Connor fighting.”

  Jude sighed. “I know. We shouldn’t have done it in front of the rest of the band.”

  “Well, there’s, I mean, there’s that. But she’s worried about the band falling apart again. And I got the feeling she’s not just worried about you and Connor causing it.”

  Jude turned to him. “You think she’s really onto us?”

  “Who knows? I think she’s just edgy about anyone hooking up or breaking up.” A.J. folded his arms loosely, just trying to give his hands something to do. “Are we being idiots? Getting—” He glanced at the door. “Getting involved with each other?”

  “Probably. We knew that going into it.” Jude shook his head. “I don’t want to put the band at risk any more than you do. And I think me and you can be a bit more levelheaded about things than me and Connor could.”

  “Still . . . shit happens.”

  “Yeah. It does.” Jude pulled in a breath and pushed his shoulders back. “What do you think we should do?”

  A.J. knew damn well what the answer was, but Jude locked eyes with him and things like We shouldn’t repeat last night or We should cool it stopped making sense. So did Last night was just sex and whatever other bullshit he’d tried to feed himself on his way here this morning.

  The man looking back at him was more than the sum total of aches, twinges, and regrets. They’d been circling each other for weeks, and now that they’d finally given into the physical temptation . . .

  Goddamn. That wasn’t a one-night stand, was it?

  They’d been avoiding each other physically, keeping each other at arm’s length to avoid what they both knew they wanted, but what A.J. had really missed most was that period when they’d found every excuse imaginable to hang out and talk. He hadn’t realized until now that he’d looked forward to Jude’s smoke breaks almost as much as Jude probably had, and he missed that even more than he itched for physical contact.

  In his mind, he heard Jude and Connor shouting.

  “If they’re screaming at each other about something,” Shiloh had said, “you can almost guarantee that whatever they’re screaming about is not what they’re actually fighting about.”

  He swallowed. That was what they’d done too, wasn’t it? They’d avoided each other under the pretense of not giving into sexual temptation. They’d kept their distance, and he realized now that while he thought they’d been circling each other, they’d been spiraling closer. And closer. And closer. Until yesterday. And last night. And now.

  Jude gulped. A.J. couldn’t read his mind, but that wasn’t just a blank, inquisitive stare. This wasn’t in A.J.’s imagination, was it?

  And when had he started drumming his fingers on the railing? He drew his hand back, folding his arms again. “What do we do now?”

  “Well.” Jude crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. “I guess we’ve got two choices.”

  A.J. raised his eyebrows.

  Jude mirrored him, arms folded loosely across his chest. “We either keep this thing going and be discreet about it, or we pretend it never happened and be adults about it.”

  “I probably don’t have to tell you which option I want to take.”

  “Yeah. Same here.”

  “What happens if things don’t work out?”

  Jude’s eyes lost focus. After a moment, he shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  A.J. opened his mouth to speak, but the balcony door opened.

  They both turned as Vanessa leaned outside. “You guys coming?” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Everyone’s ready to rehearse whenever you are.”

  “Yeah.” Jude gestured with his cigarette. “I was just finishing up my smoke. We’ll be there in a minute.”

  She eyed them both, then went back inside.

  Jude faced A.J. again. “Look, I know we’re taking a huge chance. And I’m not thrilled about that part, but I . . .” He took a deep breath. “To be perfectly blunt, I want to see where this goes.”

  A.J.’s stomach twisted and his heart fluttered. “I do too. But . . . the band . . .”

  “I know. But we already know we suck at staying away from each other. We’ll just have to keep it on the down-low, and no matter what happens, keep it separate from the band.”

  “You really think we can do that, even if things go to shit?”

  Jude’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I have no idea. But I can’t think of any other option that’ll let me keep my sanity.”

  “You and me both,” A.J. whispered. “So I guess that’s what we do—keep it quiet, and keep it away from the band.”

  Jude nodded. Some of the apprehension in his expression softened, and his lips pulled into a subtle but spine-tingling smile. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  Despite his nerves, A.J. couldn’t help grinning. “Secret’s safe with me.”

  “Good.” Jude nodded toward the building. “So. Back to rehearsal?”

  “Yeah. Back to rehearsal.”

  As they headed inside, excitement coiled behind A.J.’s ribs, but so did a hell of a bundle of nerves. It was easy to say they’d keep this on the DL and, if things went to shit, keep it separate from the band. Except he was pretty sure Connor and Wyatt had had a similar arrangement, considering how pissed off the band had been after their relationship had come to light. And that had been before everything went up in flames.

  But every alternative included “not doing this with Jude.”

  And no matter how risky it was, no matter how downright fucking stupid it was, A.J. just couldn’t resist.

  Chapter 19

  By the time they’d finished their first day of recording, Jude was exhausted. His fingers were as raw as they’d been when he’d rejoined the band. His wrists, elbows, and neck ached.

  And now, lying beside A.J. on that narrow futon, his whole body ached, and he felt great. A day of nothing but music and sex—he couldn’t ask for much more than that.

  A.J. yawned. “What time is it?”

  “Almost one.”

  “Already?”

  “Time flies.” Jude kissed his forehead. “And it was damn near ten when we got here.”