The Baby and the Rock Star (Rock Star Kisses Book 2)
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The Baby and The Rock Star
By Veronica Blade
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Copyright © 2018 by Veronica Blade. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever without the prior written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotatfions embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Crush Publishing, Inc
Gardnerville, NV
Crush Publishing, Inc name and logo are trademarks of Crush Publishing, Inc and are used only with its permission.
The places, characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by author.
ISBN 978-0-9995994-9-5
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Immediately following the end of this story, please scroll to the next page for peeks of other books by Veronica Blade.
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Table of Contents
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Summary
Sebastian’s unexpected desire to devour Violet’s mouth baffles him—he barely knows her and he prefers his women a little more agreeable. Besides, he has more important things to focus on, like rebuilding his scorched reputation after years in a drunken haze. Since she’s a miracle worker at public relations, he’s stuck with her and her bad attitude. If only he could purge the freakishly realistic x-rated visuals of Violet popping into his head, he might actually accomplish his goal and be allowed back into the band. But she isn’t making anything easy.
When Violet’s father, Full Throttle’s band manager, asks her to salvage Sebastian’s public image, she can’t turn down the chance to make a name for herself. But spending so much time with Sebastian is brutal. While drinking is out of character for her, she’s even more embarrassed that she lost control one night and tumbled into bed with him. To her complete the humiliation, he acts like their night of debauchery never happened. How will she endure the next few weeks working with someone she’s secretly infatuated with but who barely knows she’s alive?
Chapter One
Sebastian
Violet was sitting so close to me, I could count her freckles.
As pretty as she was, I didn’t want her in my house. We should’ve arranged a different meeting place so I could leave anytime. Fat chance getting rid of her before she finished going through her dreadful list. At least I’d had the sense to offer her a kitchen chair, as opposed to the stuffed chairs in the living room where she’d probably be more comfortable, and likely stay longer.
When I scooted my chair toward the other end of my dining room table, her scent became fainter and I could concentrate again.
“I’m confident we can turn this around. A few weeks from now, you’ll look like such a saint, mothers everywhere will be practically throwing their daughters at you.” She squinted at her notebook filled with bullet points. Her To-Do list should have been retitled Fifty Ways to Torture Your Client.
As she studied the items on the white sheet, she chewed the tip of her pen. An image flashed through my mind of her full pink mouth and her breath mingling with mine. For an instant, I could taste the plumpness of her lips and feel the smooth skin of her chin brushing my jaw.
Where the hell had that come from? I’d never been anywhere near her mouth. Yet that flash had felt real, more like a memory than a fantasy. I shook the vision away. I’d encountered Violet occasionally since my bandmates of Full Throttle and I had begun working with Aidan, Violet’s father and our band manager, but we hadn’t talked much. I didn’t remember her being this hot.
Though I found Violet undeniably beautiful, I’d never been actually attracted to her. Probably because she was all business and rarely smiled. She may as well have had a stamp on her forehead declaring her frigid. No way would I allow myself fantasies of kissing her, no matter how radiant she looked at this moment or how her curly red hair cascaded over her breasts.
Do not look at her breasts! Letting myself go in that direction would derail me from my goal after working so hard to get clean and sober. I didn’t want another scandal, not when I needed to salvage my reputation, and I certainly couldn’t risk a woman driving me back to drugs and booze.
I’d squeezed in a lifetime of brain-cell-killing substances these past three years. Countless women and too many mornings waking up with no memory of the night before. That had been my exact goal, no memory. I’d wanted to forget all the things I’d screwed up in my life, all the crappy people in my past, and the loved ones I’d lost.
In my quest to forget the pain, I’d totally failed myself in the process.
“If we’re going to fix this kind of damage, I need your full attention. Don’t check out on me.” She peered up at me from her notes.
“I didn’t check out.” But I had. I’d been cruising down bad-memory lane. If I was going to get through this, I couldn’t dwell on the past. I refocused on the here and now.
“Sebastian.” Violet tapped a short, unpolished fingernail on my tabletop, then shoved her phone screen at me, displaying a picture—white powder on my nose, bleary half-closed eyes and my smile askew. “With hundreds, possibly thousands, more pictures just like this on the internet, we don’t have time for distractions. I need all your energy focused on showing the world you’ve changed. You can’t risk the record company refusing to promote you, or Liam not inviting you back into the band.”
“Yeah, I know,” I snapped. “My entire future is at stake. You don’t have to remind me.” Getting my life back would be a lot easier if my publicist was a little more pleasant to be around. If she fixed my rep though, she’d pull off a miracle. “You really think you can do that? I mean, not the daughter throwing part. You could make me look like a saint?”
“It’s all in the presentation, the spin you put on it. Most people will believe just about anything,” she muttered the last sentence, tossing her vibrant red hair off her shoulders.
I decided to ignore that last remark, which somehow felt personal. I barely knew Violet, so her attitude had to stem from something else in her life, her own baggage. Whatever. Either way, I’d give her the benefit of the doubt. She may have seemed distant at times, but I’d never known her to be openly rude.
“For some of the events, all you have to do is show up and smile for the camera. Maybe circulate around and be nice. The interviews will be a little trickier, but I’ll coach you through those.” She shivered and rubbed her bare arms.
I didn’t think my house was chilly but she was wearing a tank top and she didn’t look like she had enough meat on her bones to keep warm. I leaned way back, tipped my chair and slid the dining room window closed with a bang to shut out the chilly evening air.
“I’ve done plenty of interviews all by myself.” God, I hated this. I wanted the next two months to be over already. “I can handle this on my own, V, but thanks.”
“Sebastian, if you could handle everything on your own, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” She stared at me, her eyes hard and cold. “And please don’t call me V.”
Her earlier dig couldn’t have been my imagination. Apparently, compassion and optimism weren’t qualities she inherited from Aidan. Not that the band’s manager was always warm and fuzzy, but h
e knew when to snap out of business mode. “Fine, Violet, if you have me booked nearly full time trying to make myself look good, how will I have time to practice with Full Throttle for our upcoming CD?”
“You won’t.” She sighed.“You’re not lead guitar anymore, remember? They’ll record without you and after your reputation is cleaned up, you’ll be back on tour with them. For now, your only job is to be seen as often as possible, doing good deeds so that enough positive things about you will bury the bad. Which means keeping current content on your social network pages, which hopefully will encourage the tabloids to stop running old photos from when you were a raging alcoholic.”
No sugar coating, of course, not from Violet. Maybe the task would go down easier if she was a little more human about it. I was beginning to doubt that would happen. The sooner she was out of my house, the more at ease I’d be. I stood, the chair scraping the marble floor and toppling sideways. “Get out.”
Violet flashed me a palm in a move of surrender. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that”—she blew out a frustrated breath—“we have a lot of damage control to do and it’s going to take some work.”
“Fine.” I clenched my jaw. “Just keep the boozer comments to a minimum, huh?”
Her lips thinned and her gaze fell. “That was unprofessional and I apologize. It won’t happen again,” she said stiffly.
She couldn’t even apologize properly. I wondered what I’d done so wrong. Or if some guy had walked all over her, broken her heart, and now she hated all of us. Twenty-two years old was awfully young to give up on all men.
Rumor had it that she’d avoided virtually all social interactions to get her marketing and public relations master’s degree two years early. Probably hadn’t been laid in ages. Maybe that was her problem—too much pent-up sexual frustration. Well, I certainly wouldn’t be helping her out in that arena. I liked my women a little more agreeable. Besides, I had a life to rebuild. I had no business chasing after any woman until I had my place back in the band. Right now, I had nothing to offer a girl. And once I was part of the band again, Violet would never make it on my list of potential girlfriends.
Unfortunately, I needed her help to accomplish all that. Our lead singer, Liam, had forced me out two months ago, and for that I’d be eternally grateful. Without his push, I wouldn’t have confronted my very real problem. After thirty days in rehab, I’d shown up on his doorstep. He’d given me a fierce hug and told me I needed to stay clean. I also had to show the world I was truly on the right track before he invited me back.
I couldn’t blame him. Prior to rehab, I was out of control. And Liam’s fiancé had an impressionable four-year-old that he needed to set a good example for, as well as his three-year-old nephew. But, damn, I just wanted my bandmates back. I wanted my life back, my sense of normal. I found my passion through playing guitar and I wanted to do that with Full Throttle.
And Violet was my way to get that life back. I’d already learned the last four weeks that I couldn’t do it on my own. I’d stayed out of trouble by house hunting, getting through escrow and moving. And in my spare time, I hit the gym. A lot. The adrenaline rush and exertion of energy kept me busy and motivated. But my mind was idle. And Liam didn’t just want me to stop partying. He needed the world to know I was a good example of a human being.
My confidence in Violet’s ability to salvage my rep was strong. I just needed to navigate around all her negativity. So I’d had a drinking problem, but I’d cleaned up and was in no danger of driving drunk and killing anyone. Just the very thought of all the things that could’ve happened in the constant stupor made me want to steer clear of alcohol forever. Thankfully, I didn’t crave it anymore. My need to never again be oblivious overrode any thirst I might have.
Though I reveled in my ability to think clearly and my newfound awareness of my surroundings, I twitched at not being able to drown my problems in booze. For once in my life, I’d have to face my demons. But first thing was first. Right now, I had to concentrate on making Liam happy. Which brought me back around to Violet. We’d already been at it over an hour and the last couple of minutes, she’d been rattling off my agenda for the next week. I wanted to be done for the day.
I pointed at the pieces of paper in her hands and she lowered them to the table. “Are we finished yet?” I asked.
She tilted her head, her mouth twisting into a smirk. “Sorry, no.”
“It’s after ten and I need my beauty rest,” I told her in a deadpan tone, rising from my chair to stand.
She flipped through the first couple sheets of paper, then plucked one up and studied the handwritten notes. “We have a few things we need to get started on right away.”
I groaned, just wanting to get her and her attitude out of my house. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“Depends.” Violet lifted one brow and gave me a pointed look. “Can your career wait?”
I wondered if I should hire someone else to fix my reputation. But I knew Violet. She was hardcore. She’d made Liam’s problems disappear and she was already familiar with how we worked. Not to mention, she’d already invested time into creating a plan to clean up my image, and lined up publicity appearances. Starting over with someone else would burn too much time.
I returned to the chair and glared at her. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Nothing would please me more,” she said in an overly chipper tone as she hitched an index finger at her bulleted list. “You’ve got over a million followers on Twitter, even more on Instagram. I’d suggest using Facebook as well since you can go live and no one can accuse you of faking anything. You need content going out as much as possible throughout the day. Every post or video needs to show your sobriety, maturity, and stability. I’ve created a few temporary posts to go out steadily over the next few hours until you’re able to post as you go.”
My jaw went slack. “I can’t waste time on social media all day.” I could think of so many better things to do, like work on melodies for some lyrics.
Her eyes widened in mock innocence. “Oh, because you’re so busy right now?”
What the hell was with her? She’d always been a bit aloof in the past, maybe even stuck up. But she’d never gone in for the kill. I hadn’t seen her since… well, since her dad Aidan had sent her over to my house to check on me after Liam kicked me out of the band. Being the band’s manager, he wanted to make sure I was okay. I had invited her inside and offered her a beer.
We’d had some drinks together and even laughed. We’d compared notes on our dads; hers who never stopped working and mine who never stopped drinking. I’d woken the next morning to an empty house and then I’d started off my day with another beer. Business as usual. So what did I do to piss her off?
Rather than rise to Violet’s bait, I stood again in hopes that she’d take the hint. “I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you if my posts don’t meet your approval.”
She turned to grab her jacket off the back of the chair, which I fervently hoped meant she was finally leaving, then she gathered the stack of papers. “If you use the premade posts, we won’t have a problem.”
“Right.” I didn’t care if she bossed me around or how condescending she was. At this point, I just wanted her gone. I led the way to the front door, praying on all that was holy that she was following me. As I glanced over my shoulder to check, I slowed and she bumped into me.
A vivid image of her bare stomach assaulted me and I flinched. I’d never had such crystal-clear fantasies about any woman who I hadn’t slept with. Maybe I’d just gone too long without getting laid. I couldn’t even remember the last time. Girls had been taking a back seat since my sister disappeared and alcohol had become my best friend and lover.
But I needed to worry about tomorrow, not yesterday.
“I’ll be back in the morning to drive you to your AA meeting.” Violet moved passed me toward the door.
“Whatever.” I flung the door open and a burst of Decembe
r air hit my neck, sending goose bumps over my skin. Much to my joy, she slipped right out and into her Lexus. Good riddance.
Too bad I’d be seeing her most every day for the next week. Minimally. My stomach filled with dread. Not only would her bad vibes be keeping me company—as if I really needed that in my life right now—but I’d be exposing my true self to the world. Sober. I hadn’t done that in years. Would my fans like the real me? Hell, I wasn’t even sure anymore who my true self was.
Chapter Two
Violet
Frustrated tears burned my eyes as I tore out of Sebastian’s driveway and through the gate. My expectations were low with Sebastian and I’d certainly never expected him to pursue me. I wasn’t his type. For starters, I had more than half a brain. Every girl he’d been photographed with had big boobs, hair color from a bottle and fake eyelashes. Not that any of those things were necessarily evil. I just didn’t have any of them. Didn’t matter because he was nowhere near my type.
Well, ok, maybe a little my type. I could get lost in his beautiful soft brown eyes, or that thick wavy hair that made you want to run your hands through it, his wide mouth that smiled and disarmed you, the perfectly sculpted nose, his angular jaw and that incredible body.
How could he act as if nothing had happened between us? His obliviousness was downright offensive. The least he could do was pretend he’d had a good time. Any reaction would’ve been sufficient. Instead, since the moment he’d asked for a meeting with me, he’d behaved like a near stranger. To top it off, he had the nerve to be nice to me.
Over the years, people had called me cold, unfriendly and even indifferent, and I may have been those things to some people. But my small circle of loved ones was showered in affection. In business, I was professional. But above all, I didn’t pretend to be someone I wasn’t. I didn’t pretend things didn’t happen when they really did.