Rock Star Romance Ultimate: Volume 1

by Olivia Cunning, Jayne Frost, RB Hilliard, Crystal Kaswell, Michelle Mankin, Emily Snow, Athena Wright

  “Sam sent you?” he said gruffly. “He didn’t clear this with me. He knows he’s supposed to clear everything with me. Everything.” Big-and-Beefy pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. “Don’t move an inch,” he demanded as he dialed.

  Well, that would be absolutely no problem. It wasn’t as if she could walk on the limp noodles that had replaced her legs.

  The man turned away, and she stared at the word SECURITY printed across the back of his T-shirt while he checked out her credentials with Mr. Baily. Toni figured she should probably be taking in her surroundings and forming first impressions of Exodus End’s lavish tour bus, but she feared if she so much as glanced at anything belonging to the band, laser beams would shoot from the security guy’s eye sockets and roast her alive.

  “Do the guys know she’s coming? I don’t think they’re going to like this much.” He paused. “Yeah, she. Toni’s a chick.”

  Toni stiffened. The band’s manager, Mr. Baily, had assured her mother’s publishing house that everything would go smoothly. She’d been told that the guys were excited to be a part of the interactive biography that Mr. Baily had sold to her mom’s company for a seven-figure advance. Though Nichols Publishing had a lot of money tied up in this venture, Toni wouldn’t be getting rich off book sales. She was just the contract-for-hire writer who also happened to be the photographer, videographer, and programmer for the project. Those in charge were supposed to have cleared everything with the band ahead of time. So what was going on?

  A walkie-talkie on the security guard’s belt screeched. “Butch, the guys are headed your way,” said a voice from the device.

  Toni pressed her lips together to stifle a grin. His name was Butch? Fitting. A little too fitting.

  Butch said goodbye to Mr. Baily and hung up. “Go sit on the sofa until I figure out what to do with you,” he said to Toni before reaching for his walkie-talkie.

  He didn’t need to figure out what to do with her. She knew how to do her job. She was supposed to interview the band members. Take note of how they lived while on the road. Get some candid shots of them in their everyday environment. Catch them being themselves in photos, video clips, and audio clips. Then, once she had all the pieces, combine those varied elements into a one-of-a-kind interactive electronic biography. That was what she was supposed to do—hang out with the band for a month and become an insider. The hard part would be fitting in with them. She was no rock star. Not by any stretch of her overactive imagination. “Excuse me, but I—”

  Butch waved her toward the comfortable-looking leather sofa situated along one side of the bus and spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Send them out.” He stomped off the bus, leaving Toni standing there feeling like she’d walked into an episode of The Twilight Zone just as the big plot twist was about to reveal itself. The bus was really a spaceship and the band members were actually flesh-eating aliens who’d set her up so they’d have something tasty to snack on while they journeyed to their next destination. And you thought you were following your dreams, you fool! It was pretty obvious that Butch didn’t appreciate her unexpected appearance. She doubted the band would be any more amicable about her interruption to their lives. Unless they really were flesh-eating space aliens.

  Butch’s disdain wasn’t going to stop her, however. This assignment was important to her. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. She was here to work and to prove her naysayer of an editor wrong. Toni wasn’t waiting to start until after Butch decided what to do with her. She was starting now.

  Resolve strengthened, Toni headed off the bus to stand next to Butch and observe the members of the band as they made their way from the back door of the stadium to the tour bus.

  Butch started when he noticed her standing next to him. She straightened her shoulders and pushed her glasses up her nose. She wasn’t going to let some big dude intimidate her. She’d be plenty intimidated when she met the four famous rock stars who were headed in her direction. Make that five rock stars. She’d completely forgotten they’d hired a new rhythm guitarist, Reagan Elliot, to tour with them for the year. A group of yellow-T-shirt-bedecked escorts walked several steps behind the four tattooed hunks and the exuberant woman in their midst.

  “This is so much fun,” Reagan shouted, hugging the nearest member of her band, who happened to be lead guitarist Dare Mills. Or maybe her choice of huggee hadn’t been accidental. The man was exquisite. What woman wouldn’t want to hug him? Or more? Toni’s face flamed as ideas about what more might entail flitted through her thoughts. Not that she’d actually ever experienced more. But she knew what it involved. Somewhat.

  Dare squeezed Reagan and added an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. “You did great tonight,” he said. “The fans already adore you. Aren’t you glad you loosened up a little?”

  “I’ve been loose my entire life,” she said, which garnered a round of sniggering from her new bandmates. Reagan paused midstride and beamed at the black and red tour bus parked just behind Exodus End’s silver and blue bus. “Sinners haven’t left yet. I’m riding with them tonight!” She hugged each member of her band, grabbed one hunk of a security guard by the front of his T-shirt, and raced toward the other bus with the chuckling man in tow.

  “Your brother is one lucky guy,” Steve Aimes, the band’s drummer, said, watching Reagan bound up the bus steps of the band that was co-headlining with them on the tour.

  “So is her bodyguard,” Dare said with a grin.

  Toni perked up. She knew Dare’s brother was the rhythm guitarist for Sinners, but she hadn’t heard that Trey Mills was involved with Reagan Elliot. And what was this about her bodyguard? Was Reagan involved with two men? At the same time? Because who in their right mind would cheat on a man as luscious as Trey Mills? Toni bit her lip, reminding herself that she wasn’t here to dig up scandals—and what a scandal that would be—but to create a book that made readers feel that they knew the real men behind Exodus End’s rock star personas. And she was pretty sure these guys were used to behaving a certain way for the cameras. Surely it would take a while for them to trust her enough to be themselves in front of her. That was fine by her. It wouldn’t exactly be a tragedy if she had to spend extra time getting to know them.

  Lead singer Maximillian Richardson paused just outside the bus. He had dark brown hair cut in a trendy style, with messy locks on top that begged to be clutched as he used his strong lips on parts below a woman’s neck. Max’s striking hazel eyes made Toni’s toes curl as he looked her up and down. He shifted his gaze to Butch and lifted his eyebrows at him.

  “I thought we said to keep the bus empty tonight. We have to head out immediately.”

  “She’s the one writing a book about the band,” Butch said. “Sam said he told you about it months ago.”

  “Book? What fucking book?” Max’s face fell and then his eyes widened with apparent remembrance. “Shit,” he said, raking a hand through his hair and messing it even more. “I forgot all about it.”

  “What’s going on?” Dare asked.

  All four of the men were staring at Toni as if she were the flesh-eating space alien. She pasted a hopefully friendly smile on her face and pushed her glasses up her nose before thrusting her hand toward Dare for an introductory shake. Not that she wasn’t already shaking. She totally was.

  “I’m Toni Nichols. The publisher hired me to write the book.”

  And perhaps there was a little nepotism at work in the arrangement, but so what.

  Dare didn’t seem to notice her hand. He was too busy glaring at Max. After an awkward moment, she dropped her hand and clutched the strap of her messenger bag. What would she do if they refused to let her on the bus? Or if they wouldn’t answer her blasted editor’s carefully prepared interview questions? Or if she got so turned on that she started shedding her clothes in an attempt to seduce one of them? Or all of them . . . She stuck one finger under her turtleneck collar and tugged. Was it hot out here or was it just them? Goodness. What was up with her hormones t
onight?

  Damn Julian for putting those kinds of thoughts in her head.

  “How come this is the first I’ve heard of this?” Steve asked. His long brown hair—stopping just below his collarbones—hung damp against his bare skin. Toni was uncomfortably aware of the drummer’s lack of shirt and his display of abs. Dear lord, the man had a freaking eight-pack. He was close enough that Toni could smell the clean soap scent of a recent shower on him. She was suddenly picturing him in the shower, water cascading over his long lean body. Naked and wet. And . . . and . . . naked. She gave herself a mental shake. She had not expected to react to them this way. Yes, she’d known they were all attractive, but she wasn’t the type of woman who lusted after men. Much. Well, maybe she lusted after them, but they never lusted after her in return.

  “Shit, guys,” Max said. “I have a lot on my mind. Just recovered from my surgery. Had to judge the guitarist contest to find my temporary replacement. Prepare for the new tour.”

  “Get a manicure,” bassist Logan Schmidt added.

  “And your hair highlighted,” Steve said, fluttering his eyelashes.

  Max ignored their taunting. “It’s no wonder I forgot about it.” He released a frustrated sigh and tilted his head back to stare at the dark sky. “Well, the contract’s been signed. We’ll have to make the best of this.”

  “We also have a pact that says no women ride on the bus between shows,” Dare said.

  “Yeah, all the riding must take place while the bus is stationary,” Steve said, making thrusting motions with his slim hips.

  Toni scowled with confusion. Riding while stationary was an oxymoron. Her eyes widened when she suddenly realized what he meant by riding. Not that any of them would want to ride her, but uh, yeah, she understood his sexual connotation. And only several seconds late.

  Toni looked from one man to the next. She supposed she could offer to follow the bus in a rental car, but how would she really get that insider’s point of view if she didn’t spend time with them in their element?

  “Reagan is a woman,” Max pointed out.

  “That’s different. She’s part of the band.”

  “You can pretend I’m a guy,” Toni interrupted.

  Five sets of eyes landed on her overly ample breasts. She crossed her arms over her chest. So maybe she wouldn’t pass for a guy, but she knew they wouldn’t have any problem treating her like one once they were around her for a few minutes. Men tended to see her as friend material. Only as friend material.

  “How long are you staying?” Logan, the golden-haired bassist, asked. Curls framed his handsome face as he tilted his head to look at her. His blue eyes trained mostly on her chest, but occasionally flicked upward to meet her nervous stare. He extended a hand in her direction. “I’m Logan.”

  “So glad to meet you,” she gushed.

  She grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously, grateful for his goodwill. When she continued to pump his hand up and down long after was customary, he laughed. “I need that arm to play. Don’t dislocate my shoulder now.”

  Her eyes widened and her cheeks went hot. She dropped his hand and immediately started to rub his arm to undo any damage. Wow, he had nice arms. So hard and smooth and warm. “I-I’m sorry. I’m just really really happy to be here, and I’m so incredibly excited to meet you all. I promise to do a great job. A really great job. The best job ever. You can count on me.”

  Logan smiled at her as if she were the village idiot. Not that she blamed him. She was babbling like the village idiot.

  A sudden commotion near the wall behind the stadium drew Toni’s overly divided attention. The buses were parked in a walled alcove, and a barrier had been erected to keep the crowd from harassing the band after the show. As Toni’s unexpected intrusion had kept the group outside longer than usual, they’d been spotted by fans leaving the concert.

  “Get on the bus, guys,” Butch said. “You can figure out what to do with her inside.”

  “I’ll have no problem figuring out what to do with her,” Logan said, his lips curving into a suggestive smile. “No problem at all.”

  Toni stiffened. Was that a come-on? Surely she was imagining things. She glanced at the other members of the band, but no one else seemed to have heard his offhand comment.

  “The fans have seen us,” Max said.

  Dare grinned. “Can’t be helped.”

  All four of them made a beeline for the crowd, their entire security team scrambling after them in a panic. Toni reached into her bag for her small camera and her audio recorder. Most of her gear was in the giant camera case that had been placed under the bus by the helpful security guard who had shown her to the bus, but she didn’t have time to grab superior equipment. She switched on the recorder and pinned it to the turtleneck collar of her burnt-orange sweater. She spoke into the microphone as she hurried after the group: “I think they want to interact with their fans. Security doesn’t look too pleased with their decision to approach the crowd.”

  Toni snapped a picture of Steve signing the back of a pretty fan’s Drummers Bang Harder T-shirt. The young woman shuddered as he slowly tugged the silver marker tip over the soft cotton. Mr. Abs grinned mischievously as the hand he used to hold the young woman’s shoulder stationary inched down her chest. Toni’s eyes bulged when his questing fingertips finally reached their target and finding no resistance to his fondling, he cupped the woman’s breast, brushing its tip with his thumb. Oh my God. Did he even know this woman? Maybe he did. She didn’t smack him. Instead she covered his hand with hers and encouraged him to squeeze her boob while he eased in closer behind her and whispered into her ear. Toni wondered if she should include something like that in the book. She smiled as she imagined the caption beneath such a picture: Steve Aimes cops a feel while serving his fans. Or perhaps: Steve aims to bang more fans than drums.

  The tremulous quality of an unfamiliar voice caught Toni’s attention. She tracked the sound to the teary-eyed man standing near Dare Mills and made sure her audio recorder was catching the balding man’s conversation to the standoffish lead guitarist. Toni could almost see the invisible bubble Dare had erected around himself. Unlike the swarming fans of the rest of the band members, Dare’s admirers kept a respectful distance and had formed a neat line while waiting for the chance to meet him. The only exception was the fan standing to his left, who wasn’t in Dare’s personal space, but was obviously out of line. Toni couldn’t tell if it bothered Dare. She couldn’t even tell if Dare was listening to the guy as he signed a CD insert and offered a smile to the giddy fanboy at the front of his line.

  “High school,” the emotional fan beside Dare was saying. “High school was a nightmare. No one understood my pain. My rage. Except you guys. I must have listened to “Rebel in You” a million times. That song saved my sanity. Probably saved my life.”

  “Rebel in You” had been Exodus End’s first hit. Toni tried to recall the lyrics, but could only remember lots of screaming and angry drumming and wailing guitars. Could one song really mean that much to a person?

  “My first job was hell,” the guy continued. “Do you have any idea how much shit a yard of cattle produces? I never would have made it through the summer without “Bite” blaring through my headphones.”

  Each tragedy of the man’s life—his breakup with the love of his life, the loss of his mother, the accident that resulted in him being unable to find work—was made tolerable, in his mind, by an Exodus End song. The lead guitarist didn’t comment throughout the fan’s entire long-winded story, though he did nod occasionally as he simultaneously signed autographs and paused for pictures with others.

  Jeez, Dare. The guy is pouring his guts out to you. Are you even listening to a word he’s saying? She supposed it was his rock star ego that made the guitarist feel superior to the little people who’d paid for his mansion. Was he really an unfeeling ass? Maybe he would have gotten along better with Susan.

  “I’ve been without work for a while,” the fan said. “I�
��m trying to find a decent job, but nothing ever seems to pan out for me. I was so bummed that I couldn’t afford to see you guys play live this year, but my bros got me a ticket for the show. It made my year to get to be here tonight. You have no idea how much it means to me to stand here talking to you. I just wish I wasn’t such a fuck-up.”

  Dare’s grass green gaze lifted to meet Toni’s, and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t been sure if Dare realized she was recording his apparent disinterest, but with one look, she knew she’d judged him unfairly. He was aware of everything going on around him and in perfect control of his surroundings. It was as if the universe was a slave to his whimsy. He turned to the disheartened fan to his left and grabbed the guy’s hand in a tight fist. Dare yanked him forward until their shoulders knocked together.

  “Don’t let life get you down, man,” Dare said as he used his free hand to pat the man’s wide back. “Everything will work out. You have to believe in yourself even when no one else sees your true worth.”

  Surprised by how much she needed to hear those exact words, Toni felt that Dare were talking to her. Why couldn’t her editor—or her mother—ever say something like that to her?

  The fan beamed, tears in his dark eyes. He pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. “Can I get a picture with you? My friends are going to kick themselves for going directly to the hotel. They’ll never believe this shit without photographic evidence.”

  Dare wrapped an arm around his new buddy and smiled, making a pair of devil horns with one hand while the guy held his phone in front of them and snapped a picture. Dare patted the man on the back before turning his attention to a gushing fangirl.

  “Oh God, you’re so gorgeous, I’m about to wet myself.”

  “If I was really that gorgeous, you’d already be wet,” Dare said.

  Toni snorted in a most unladylike fashion. She had no problem picking up on the meaning of that jest, seeing as Dare’s quiet control and amazing green eyes made her wet in uncomfortable places. Toni pulled out a release form and handed it to the long-winded fan. When she explained that he might be included in an interactive e-book about the band, he was very accommodating.