by Ann,Brooklyn
“You went into my backpack?” She couldn’t keep the outrage from her voice at the thought of him, a famous rock star, going through her stuff. Seeing what she’d taken from her broken home. Handling her dirty underwear.
Another realization punched her in the gut. “You didn’t throw out the blanket, did you?”
“No!” he said so vehemently that she stepped back. His eyes blazed with countless emotions. For a second he even looked sad. Then his shoulders slumped and his voice softened. “I mean, it wasn’t full of holes like your clothes, so I washed it for you. And…” He broke off and shook his head. “As for my searching your backpack, you passed out in my arms outside the concert arena,” he reminded her.
Moving close, he tucked her arm over his shoulder and helped her down the hall, easing her onto the couch with aching gentleness. When he was done he asked, “How the hell else was I supposed to find out who you were?”
Mind still spinning, more from the sensation of his arm around her than anything else, Shayna forgot to bother with a response as he pulled out the clothes he’d bought and laid them on the enormous couch.
“Oh my God, that’s a gorgeous top!” A thrill of warmth spiraled in her heart at his kindness.
“Yeah, well, I can’t take credit for that,” he said with an almost shy smile. “I told the ladies working there that you’d lost everything in a fire. They practically jumped over themselves to help you, and then picked everything out.”
“Why’d you tell them that?” Her cheeks grew warm as she found a blue lacy bra.
Dante smiled. “Because I don’t think they would have believed the truth.”
Shayna conceded with a nod and went back to examining the clothes. He had bought her everything: socks, underwear, shirts, jeans, pajamas, even a swimsuit. It seemed she’d get to enjoy the pool after all. There was also a deep blue dress that was too fancy to wear anywhere. Still, that didn’t stop her from caressing the impossibly smooth fabric and longing to try it on.
The other bag contained a razor, lotions, moisturizers, makeup, and even tampons.
“This is a lot for only a week,” Shayna said, unable to hide her worry. She knew she had enough in her account to pay him back for her medical expenses, especially if the insurance covered most, but this was several hundred dollars’ worth of stuff.
“About that.” Dante cleared his throat and gave her the full force of his gaze. “I think you should stay here longer.”
His serious tone unnerved her in a way she couldn’t explain. “Why?”
“I know about the baby, Shayna.” His pewter eyes were firm and unyielding. “And I know about your husband and his affair.”
Alternate hot and cold flashes assaulted her body. “How?” she whispered, hoping she wouldn’t pass out or throw up.
“You had a nightmare. I woke you up and you told me.” Dante shook his head. “I’ve never heard anyone scream like that. I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been through.”
His gentle tone made her throat prickle with threatening tears. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“You’re going to have to talk to someone eventually.” His gaze hardened. “And until you’re better, physically and emotionally, you’re staying here. I insist.”
The vast walls of the mansion closed in on her. “I’m fine,” Shayna lied.
“You walked over a thousand miles and messed up your feet so badly you can barely stand.” Dante crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “You are not fine.”
“Why are you doing this?” Shayna cried, confused. “Why do you want me to stay with you? I mean, don’t you have more important things to do, albums to record?” Why would someone as big as you care about someone as small as me?
“I’m finished touring until next spring, so I need something to do right now.” His tone softened. “Also, I’m doing this because I care—and because I like to help people,” he said. She could tell he was sincere.
“You called me a project last night,” she pointed out, unable to help a note of accusation. Just because he was a rock god didn’t make her any less of a person, or any less in control of her own life. She was tired of being treated like she didn’t have any say.
He shrugged. “So what if you are? Everybody is at one point or another. Even me.”
His blasé attitude was infuriating. She forced a note of challenge in her tone, but it wavered. “Well, what if I leave? You can’t stop me.”
“No, I can’t,” Dante agreed calmly. “But I really hope you will stay and let me help. Either way, I won’t try to force you. But I know you should stay.”
Shayna sighed. He was the bossiest, most autocratic man she’d ever met. Still, Dante was right in that she didn’t have anywhere else to go and could barely walk.
“Fine, I’ll stay for now. And I do appreciate your help.” She managed a smile and changed the subject. “You said I could use your computer, didn’t you? Can I see if my divorce has gone through?”
“Of course.”
When he grinned, she rolled her eyes. Of course he would smile and be gracious. He’d won.
Chapter Five
Dante helped Shayna log on to his computer but stuck around to peek at her email. He knew it was rude, but his curiosity was impossible to resist.
“Do you have to hover over my shoulder like that?”
She turned away from the computer screen to give him an exasperated look, but Dante ignored her and read her jackass husband’s reply:
If this is some kind of pity game, I’m not playing. I’m taking the house and everything else I paid for. Keep your little bank account. I filed the papers already and attached the divorce decree, so you can’t change your mind. I’ll send you the finalized papers when they come.
P.S. I would appreciate it if you did not keep my last name.
“What an asshole.” Dante was surprised at his fury. He wanted to fly up to Portland and kick the shit out of the sanctimonious son of a bitch. “Am I reading this right, Shayna? Did you really sign everything over to him?”
“I sure did,” she said, lifting her chin in what she probably hoped was a formidable manner. Really, it was just cute. Especially since he’d given her polka-dotted Band-Aids.
Shayna continued. “As he said, he paid for everything and I want nothing to do with it. Besides, my bank account isn’t so little, and if he’d been paying any attention to me instead of sleeping around he’d know it. As soon as you take me to the bank, I can pay you back for all you’ve done.”
Dante closed his eyes and struggled to gather his patience. God, this woman needed a keeper. First she turned down the chance at alimony, and now she was trying to throw away part of her nest egg on him?
“Shayna, I won’t let you pay me back,” he said in the most level voice possible.
Her eyes narrowed. “But I want to do things for myself for once.”
“If you continue to argue with me, I’ll buy you a sapphire necklace to go with your new dress.”
Her horrified look made him chuckle. In his world of greedy, entitled celebrities, she was a true novelty. No, more than a novelty. She was a miracle.
Shayna gave him a mutinous glare. “You are really weird, you know that?” she said. Then she turned and replied to her ex-husband.
Thank you for taking care of the final paperwork. I hope you and your beverage vendor find more happiness than we had, she typed eloquently.
“You stupid jerk-off,” Dante added.
“I’m not going to say that!” But Shayna giggled, sending a tremor of warmth down his spine. “At least not out loud.”
Her smile enchanted him. It made her look ethereal and fey all at once. Once more, lust welled up within Dante.
He shook it off and looked at her long list of emails. It seemed housewives like her spent a lot of time online. No doubt she’d been lonely, and the next one she opened piqued his interest a little: Hi, Shayna, I know that you must still be grieving, but it’s been so long sinc
e I’ve heard from you. Are you okay? Best, Emma.
“Looks like this one was worried about you,” he commented, curiosity building about her past. “Why didn’t you go to her when—?”
“Because she’s all the way in New York, for one thing,” Shayna cut him off. “For another, I’ve only met her in person once, so that would be awkward. Seriously, can you please let me have some privacy?”
No doubt her husband’s cold response had cut her deeply. There was something off in her tone, aside from her annoyance with his intrusion on her correspondence, which of course he really shouldn’t have done. A surge of guilt washed over him. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you alone for now and see what Rosa’s making for dinner.”
Leaving her side was almost a mistake. The second he entered the kitchen, Rosa treated him to one of her signature scoldings.
“She is much too skinny,” the housekeeper began, as if it were his fault. “And she would not rest like I told her. She said you told her she could read in the library.”
That wasn’t exactly what he’d said, but Dante knew if he told Rosa that she would mother Shayna even worse. The housekeeper might be the best he’d ever had, but damn, she could be a busybody—which was probably why she got along so well with him. They had that in common. But that didn’t mean they needed to double-team their guest.
“I want Shayna to be comfortable here, Rosa,” he said carefully. “And I will make sure that she eats a big dinner.”
“What am I to do?” the housekeeper continued. “You leave me alone with this injured woman, with only a note telling about her…and a large grocery list.”
“And a large bonus check to cover the inconvenience,” he reminded her.
“Si,” Rosa said with a smile and returned to the stove. It smelled like her enchiladas. She couldn’t be too upset if she was making one of her best dishes.
But then she moved on to a new topic. “She says she is divorced. Do you know why?”
“Her husband is a stupid, philandering jackass.”
He regretted the words the minute they left his mouth, for Rosa’s broad grin made him cringe almost as much as her words. “You need a new wife, Señor Deity. Just because your last one did not appreciate you, doesn’t mean you should give up. You do not philander. You have not had a woman here since your wife left. And Senorita Shayna is very pretty. Maybe—”
“She is a project, Rosa,” Dante cut her off. “She will leave when she is well…although that will be longer than a week.”
The housekeeper chuckled as he left the kitchen, and he fought off the ridiculous notion that he was fleeing her.
As he passed his office again, he heard the rapid clicking of computer keys as Shayna answered her emails. Damn, that woman could type fast. He wondered if she’d picked up any other skills while being a housewife.
Maybe he could hire her to answer his fan mail, or be something of a secretary.
Dante immediately rejected that idea with a frown. No, her aura of innocence made him want to keep her away from the music business.
Still, his mind spun, and his nerves jumped for something to do. Besides meetings with the record company and a few interviews, there was nothing to occupy him for the next few weeks until his band joined him for work on the new album. This ennui always drove him mad. He was the kind of person who needed to be doing something all the time—which was probably why his marriage had failed, Dante reminded himself with a sneer in Rosa’s direction. Then he wandered upstairs. A wife was the last thing he needed.
Shayna’s bedroom door hung open, and the sight of the shopping bags strewn across her bed assaulted Dante’s sense of organization. He just couldn’t stand it when everything wasn’t in its place. The irony made him shake his head with a rueful smile: Last night he’d worried that Shayna was a clean freak. Then again, it wouldn’t be good for her to be on her feet so long to sort through all this stuff…
For the next few minutes he occupied himself putting the items away. When he got to the underwear, he shook his head and remembered standing in the intimate apparel section of the department store, stupefied at the selection. If he got her thongs, would she think he was lusting after her? If he got “granny panties,” would she be repulsed? Thankfully, the sales girl had saved him from his ignorance. And he was quite proud of his fire story!
Once everything was put away, he went downstairs and warned Shayna that it was almost time for dinner, holding back a laugh as he watched how fast she signed off. She was clearly hungry.
“I need to shower and change into my new clothes,” she said quickly. “Then I’ll be right down.”
“You took a bath yesterday,” he pointed out. “You need to stay off your feet. Besides, dinner’s not a formal affair. You don’t need to stand on ceremony. Especially since I’ve already seen you in what you’re wearing now. Really, you look fine.”
Shayna wrinkled her nose in disgust. “As much as I appreciate you loaning me your clothes—and again, thank you—I look like a little kid playing dress-up.”
Actually, he thought she looked rather adorable.
She blushed and added, “And I’d really like to put on some underwear.”
She wasn’t wearing panties…? The thought was all too enticing.
“Fine,” he said, and his voice came out husky as he imagined her naked in that marble tub. “But please, go easy on yourself.”
His lust died when she got to her feet and shambled out of the office, her face contorted with pain. His fists clenched with resolve. He would make her put her feet up for the rest of the evening no matter what she said.
She made it back downstairs right as Rosa set dinner on the table.
“That smells heavenly,” she said, making Rosa beam.
Despite her pronouncement, Shayna then picked at the food, darting nervous glances at him between bites. Dante was finally forced to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you mad at me for throwing away your old clothes, or hovering over you when you were checking your emails? Or are you still hung up over my celebrity status?” He frowned, suddenly worried that it was the latter. He’d so enjoyed her talking to him like he was a regular person.
To his dismay, she nodded. “A little. I’m not used to being waited upon, though Rosa is wonderful. I always did the cooking and cleaning.”
“Well, lots of people have housekeepers,” he pointed out. “And you shouldn’t be nervous around me. You don’t exactly look like you listen to heavy metal music. Hell, you didn’t even recognize me!”
Her eyes narrowed. “I recognized your voice outside of the concert last night. And I did listen to metal in high school. The only reason I stopped was because my husband didn’t like it.”
“Did you always go with his whims?” Dante asked, unable to stop himself. The more he learned about her marriage, the more his stomach churned with disgust at her jerk husband—and the more he longed to comfort her.
“I was trying to be a good wife. Besides,” she added defensively, “I listened to what I wanted when he wasn’t home, including some metal stations.”
For some reason the thought of her listening to his music made a warm tremor rush up Dante’s spine. He shook off the odd sensation and changed the subject.
“Your new clothes seem to fit.” It was a lame attempt at a new topic, but it was the best he could do at the moment. At least she didn’t seem so nervous anymore.
“They do. Thank you again.”
Her cheeks pinkened and Dante couldn’t help admiring how much better she looked after a night’s rest and new clothes. More than just better, he thought, studying her shoulder-length dark brown hair, elfin features, and the way her blue knit top clung to her breasts. A tremor of alarm crept up his spine at the growing warmth in his stomach. He would have to be careful. It really wouldn’t do to be too attracted when he was supposed to be helping her, as that would only complicate the project. And this was definitely a project.
Dante tore his gaze from her and forced his attention back
to his meal. They both finished eating, and Rosa cleared their plates, firmly refusing Shayna’s offer to help clean up. Then Dante guided her into the living room and put on a movie after she took her pain medication.
He suggested Monty Python and the Holy Grail, since she’d said they both enjoyed all things medieval. He wanted to see her laugh, and he was well-rewarded as the movie played. He was reminded again of how young she was, that she had never seen it. Still, sharing the movie with her was a wonderful experience.
When the credits rolled, she was clearly ready for bed. He fought back unreasonable disappointment that she didn’t need him to carry her. Really, his back muscles should be sighing in relief, but his arms…well, they ached to hold her again.
Chapter Six
The next morning, Shayna fought back disappointment that she hadn’t dreamed of Dante singing to her again. Now that she knew he really was a singer, a small part of her wondered if it hadn’t been a dream after all. Then again, he didn’t look like the lullaby type. But he had been there and…
She supposed she’d never know, since she was too shy to ask.
“I have a meeting with my producer about the timeline of our next album and a bunch of marketing crap,” he announced after breakfast. “The damn thing will probably last several hours. Feel free to use my computer if you get bored.”
Dante gave her a long, unreadable look, and Shayna tried to interpret. Did he not want to leave her? Why not?
She supposed it didn’t matter. The second he left the house, Shayna limped to his office and turned on the computer, opening her email. She’d been dreading Emma’s reply to her own, and hoped her editor wasn’t mad at her.
She opened the email and sighed with relief at the understanding response:
Hey, Shayna. I’m simply glad to hear you’re okay. Just get better. Though, I hope you can get a pitch to me in two weeks and a hopeful manuscript turn-in by October. Regards, Emma.
Manuscript turn-in. The words used to fill her with excitement of rising to the challenge, but now they settled in her stomach like a lump of lead. October, though. She still had three months. But three months didn’t seem like very long when she hadn’t done anything since Shawn Jr. died except huddle in a ball of misery. And now, here she was in the home of a famous rock star, unable to think of anything but him! His kindness, his infuriating bossiness, his pulse-raising smile… The tantalizing glimpses of his abs when he’d yawned and stretched after that movie.
