Her Last Temptation. Leslie Kelly

one of us is going to have any voice left at all.”

      Nodding, Josh waved at the audience, which had swelled in size over the past few hours until every table was taken. “Stay, drink, be patient. We’ll be back in twenty,” he shouted into the microphone, trying to be heard over the applause and whistles.

      The audience cheered a bit more, but since the band members were already putting their instruments down, they gradually quieted. The typical mad race for the restrooms and fresh rounds quickly got underway. As did the pickup conversations going on between the hopeful single guys and their prospects.

      “The place isn’t the only thing that’s wild,” their drummer Jeremy said as he lowered his drumsticks and rose from his stool. “The brunette in the jean miniskirt who was sitting at the table closest to the stage wasn’t wearing any underwear.” He shook his head. “It was like she wanted me to see…everything.”

      Seeing the shock on Jeremy’s face, Dylan hid a jaded grin. Jeremy, Josh’s younger brother, was their newest member, a baby-faced nineteen-year-old. Jeremy hadn’t yet realized that rock-and-roll groupies didn’t always limit their adulation to the famous groups who were household names. Sometimes local bands—like theirs—had their own fan bases. The familiar faces in tonight’s crowd certainly bore that out.

      That was one of the drawbacks to the business, as far as Dylan was concerned. He played for his own pleasure, his own release. He had never been interested in the fans or the lifestyle or any of the garbage that went along with it. He just liked to head-bang on occasion. Which was probably why he’d never gone any further with his music than to small places like this, in small Texas towns.

      “So, you gonna go over and talk to her or just keep staring at her like some lovesick mutt?”

      Dylan jerked his attention toward Billy Banks, the final member of their four-man group, who wailed like a madman on the keyboard. Banks was grinning that sardonic grin of his, brown eyes sparkling behind the wire-framed glasses he wore to give himself the appearance of an intellectual rock and roller. He liked to think of himself as the Lennon of their group.

      The women seemed to like it, too. Between Banks’s brainy persona and deep-rooted mischievous streak, Jeremy’s fresh-faced innocence, Josh’s breezy surfer style and Dylan’s own long-haired rebel thing, they had a regular stream of females ready to keep them company whenever they desired it.

      Dylan hadn’t desired it. Not in a long time.

      But Banks sure had, which wasn’t surprising. Ever since they’d met at freshman orientation in college, where they’d been the two youngest people in the room, Billy Banks had proved himself to be two things: woman-crazy and the best, most loyal friend Dylan had ever had.

      “Well? You going over? You’ve been eyeing her all night.”

      “You’re seeing things,” Dylan mumbled, choosing to pretend he didn’t know what the guy was talking about.

      “Oh, come on, man, I thought you were gonna short out the sound system because the mike was getting so wet with your drool every time you looked at that blond bartender.”

      “Bite me.”

      Banks smirked. “You oughtta save that line for her.”

      Shooting Banks—who was as close to him as a brother—a look that threatened bodily injury, Dylan walked to the rear of the stage to amp everything down.

      Banks soon crouched beside him to help. “She is totally hot,” he said, sounding contrite. Definitely out of character for Banks, who never regretted anything he did.

      Dylan hesitated for one second, wondering how much to reveal. Finally, between clenched teeth, he admitted the truth. “She’s Cat Sheehan.”

      Banks jerked so hard he almost fell on his ass. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. When Dylan confirmed the truth of his words with a nod, Banks emitted a long, low whistle. “The Cat woman herself, huh?”

      Dylan nodded again, knowing he didn’t have to say anything more. Banks knew all about Cat. He was probably the only one who knew the entire truth about Dylan’s relationship with the blonde.

      The one-sided relationship that had been going on for several years now.

      “Did you know she’d be here?”

      He shook his head. “I recognized the building when I pulled up outside. Her family used to own the place. But the name’s changed. I figured she was long gone.”

      Banks nodded. “Did she know who you were?”

      No. She hadn’t. Which still slightly burned him. But he didn’t want Banks to know that. So he shrugged in disinterest. “We’ve barely spoken.”

      Banks merely smirked, the sorry son of a bitch, knowing Dylan much too well to be fooled by that. Then he looked over Dylan’s shoulder, toward the other side of the bar, nodding as he sought out Cat. “So you finally have your shot,” he murmured. “Your dream girl has been looking at you all night like she needs a sugar fix and you’re a giant Tootsie Roll.”

      Banks’s words brought some intense images to mind and he had to busy his hands winding cable to keep them from shaking. “You’re imagining things,” he said. “She’s barely paid attention to us at all.”

      Banks let out a bark of laughter that caused several people standing nearby to glance over in curiosity. “Man, you are losing it if you didn’t see the way that girl kept her eyes glued to you. Except every time you looked in her direction—then she turned away right quick.”

      Okay, it was possible. He and Cat had shared a sexy, flirtatious conversation before the rest of the band had shown up. There had been some definite spark, a genuine intensity between them.

      A lazy smile widened his lips at the memory. He had never fallen into such instant sync with anyone before. And he’d certainly never been so completely affected by a woman before—at least, not in his adult life. Even now, nearly two hours later, he could still smell the warm, sultry aroma of her perfume and hear her throaty laugh.

      “She’s yours for the taking,” Banks added. “You can finally have what you always wanted.”

      Dylan was shaking his head even before Banks finished his ridiculous statement. His friend was wrong. Very, very wrong.

      Cat might be interested now. Judging by the heat-filled moments they’d shared earlier, he’d say she probably was.

      Didn’t matter. Because the minute she found out his true identity, the spark would fade, the intensity would disappear and his chances along with it. He knew it. Knew it like he knew his own guitar.

      She was interested in Spence, the bass-playing rock and roller with a strut and a sneer and a cocky-as-hell attitude. Which was pretty funny, come to think of it, in a you-poor-sorry-sucker way. Because the man she was attracted to didn’t exist. He was a phantom. A facade. A fictional character.

      In truth, Dylan Spencer was a complete and utter fraud.

      2

      IF TEMPTATION HAD HAD more nights like this, they might have had enough money to hire a better attorney for their fight to stay open. Cat couldn’t get over the people who’d squeezed in over the past couple of hours, all of them thirsty. And hungry, judging by the way Zeke, their cook, was whipping out everything on their limited menu just as fast as he could.

      The Four G’s, music seemed to have had some kind of Pied Piper effect on the residents of Kendall, many of whom were former patrons who hadn’t wanted to deal with the hassles of road construction in recent months. Temptation hadn’t been this crowded since the spring, when an erroneous rumor had circulated that they were hosting a wet T-shirt contest.

      If it would have saved the bar, Cat would have given it some serious consideration.

      “I think I’m going to have to kill Tess when and if she ever comes back.”

      Cat