Secrets to Hide 2: Naughty Little Christmas by Ella Sheridan

the manager’s office, where thick walls and a closed door made focus easier. As much as her mind wanted to wander back to Damien and the things he’d said to her, follow-through was a tough taskmaster, cracking a sharp whip on her backside. Settling in, she prepared herself for the first night of what promised to stretch into a very long week.
    * * * *
    Their meeting with the indie band Harley had booked, Weekend Washout, was set for Wednesday evening, right after the club opened. The morning had blurred with activity, keeping her mind off Damien and on work. A relationship between them was a bad idea all around, yet something deep inside couldn’t help but be hurt by his decision to put business before any pleasure they might have together.
    Not that they’d been heading that way. They shouldn’t. She shouldn’t. Still…
    Damn, she was fickle. As much as she’d privately condemned Damien for his blatantly mixed signals yesterday, she tottered on her own fence, not sure which way she’d fall. Every time her eyes closed, she felt his touch, felt the power of the attraction that arced between them when they breathed the same air. She’d never experienced anything like it, and she was willing to bet Damien hadn’t either; the startled look in his eyes each time it happened convinced her of that. Yet his unequivocal denial rang in her ears.
    Ignoring the pang in her chest at the memory, she left Marc’s office. From her vantage point she could see the bouncers busily vetting each customer at the door. Chad, the lead singer of Weekend Washout, stepped through just as she made it to the door.
    “Chad, it’s good to see you!”
    Chad brushed his long bangs away from his eyes as he glanced toward her. So typical rocker, from his asymmetrical hair to the studded belt at his hips to the lazy look in his dark gaze. Until that gaze met hers, and his eyes widened like he couldn’t believe what he saw. “Damn, girl, look at you! When did you grow up on us?”
    She huffed a breath. “I grew up a long time ago. You’re the ones who forgot that fact.”
    Chad laughed, reaching out to hug her before passing her to Drew, the band’s guitarist, who then passed her into a hug with their drummer, Vincent. A couple of years had gone by since they’d met face-to-face, but she hadn’t changed that much and neither had they. Both Drew and Vincent wore the rock musician’s uniform of T-shirts and torn jeans, but overall their appearance didn’t shout Look at me! like Chad’s did. They looked goo—
    “Harley.”
    Hank stood in the doorway, staring at her. He might’ve been a bass player, but his voice still held that husky, gravelly tone that made women instantly hot. Even her at one time. He was the only man she’d ever seriously considered giving herself to, but when they touched, there’d been no true spark, no mind-blowing zing —on her end at least. He was easy on the eyes, though. At six-two, he towered over her, his shaved head and bulky muscles making him appear even larger than he actually was. “Hank. You look better than ever.”
    “You too,” Hank replied, stepping forward to wrap her in a bear hug. He squeezed tight, rocking slightly as if he needed the extra movement to nestle her close. “Damn good,” he whispered in her ear.
    She closed her eyes and absorbed his presence. They’d spoken off and on the last couple of years, but she’d forgotten what it was like to be held by him. How comforting it was. Calming. Safe. A twinge of regret sparked in her chest. Despite Hank’s interest in her, a relationship between them would never have worked long-term, and definitely not long-distance. In the end, she’d made her decision, and considering the things that had happened in her life since, that decision was for the best.
    “Harley.”
    Damien’s voice splashed like a bucket of cold water straight down her spine. She eased back from Hank, clearing her throat of the sudden lump lodged there, and turned to