Sweet Temptation: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 3)

by Jaine Diamond

  Not around all the time… making me feel safe.

  “Why wouldn’t he be my bodyguard anymore?”

  Elle’s steely-gray eyes narrowed at me. “Oooh. You do like him.”

  “Of course I like him. He’s what, two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of solid, sculpted muscle, protecting me? And have you seen his hands? His eyes? Did you see his butt?”

  “Oh, I saw all of it. He was right here.”

  “And he’s very professional. It’s all very…”

  “Hot.”

  I groaned. “I love a man with a serious work ethic.”

  “I know you do.”

  “Partying is fun. I mean, for me, it’s a way of life. But when it comes to men, serious relationships with men, I don’t like fluff. I’ve had enough of that. I hate players. I like them smart and driven. I like winners, Elle. This one smells like a winner.”

  “Hmm. From where I was sitting, he smelled like aftershave and coffee.”

  “That, too. I’ll take it all.”

  “Sweetie.” Elle gazed at me with sympathy. “Go easy on yourself. Get through this restraining order drama. Let him do his job. Get to know him a bit, maybe. Then see how it goes.” She slipped off her stool and put her arm around me. “You know, you once told me, when I was in a funk, that I’m solid platinum and I deserve the best. You were right, by the way. And you helped me see it. Which helped me embrace what I had with Seth. So, I’m telling you right now, you’re the rarest kind of diamond, Summer Sorensen. And you deserve it all.”

  After Elle and I had our coffee and girl talk, a few of my other friends arrived. I’d asked Wendy, Jewel and Carissa to come over and help plan the party for tonight.

  Ronan beat me to the front door with his long legs, and greeted them like a big, sexy, unsmiling bouncer. Though at least he didn’t ask for ID. He seemed to tolerate me introducing them instead.

  When I introduced him to Wendy and Jewel, I said, “This is Ronan. He’s a superhero. Super Ronan.”

  “Hi, Super Ronan,” they sang.

  He shook hands with each of them, and I could practically see him making mental notes of each name and memorizing each face. Carissa was looking her usual fabulous bohemian-chic self, Wendy’s dark skin was an endless map of artful tattoos, and Jewel, in his skinny jeans and guyliner, looked like my bodyguard could snap him in half.

  I wondered what Ronan was thinking, and what his friends were like.

  He followed us into the living room and sat at the bar, sort of fiddling on his phone and basically eavesdropping while we hung out a few feet away in the living room, “party planning.” Basically, we put on music and mixed cocktails around him at the bar while dancing and goofing around.

  Occasionally, Ronan glanced up from his phone and checked us out.

  He seemed particularly interested in Jewel, the only guy in the room and a former lover of mine. We’d slept together a handful of times over about a week of semi-dating, and we’d been good friends ever since. He was happily hooked up with Wendy now, but Ronan was definitely staring him down, and I wondered if there was any way he could know that we’d been together.

  Or was he just planning to stare down all my male friends that way?

  When we actually got to the planning part, like talking about who I should invite tonight and what antics we should get up to, Ronan started vetoing our ideas, according to his security protocols. Apparently the fog machine and the guest DJ were out, and he wanted my guest list ahead of time. Like preferably now.

  And apparently, all my friends’ “weird aliases” wouldn’t do. He informed me of this with his eyes locked firmly on Jewel. He wanted “real” names, first and last.

  “Can I talk to you for a sec?” I grabbed his rock hard bicep and tugged him off his stool. He followed me into the hallway, where I planted my hands on my hips and informed him, “You’re being a buzzkill.”

  “That’s not my intention.”

  “A giant buzzkill. Are you planning on controlling the guest list? Like, do you want to just invite your friends instead of mine? Would that make you feel better?”

  “I wasn’t planning on that. But I’m capping the list at twenty people, and I’m bringing in a few guys to keep an eye on things.”

  “What kind of party is that?”

  “The only kind you’re getting right now.”

  My mouth fell open. “Excuse me? You work for me. This is my house.”

  “And right now, we need to send a message that you have security. You and your house are secure. Your home isn’t public property, and anyone who wants to come over treats you and your property with respect. I’m sure anyone who’s truly your friend will not only respect that but appreciate it and be happy to play along for now, in an effort to keep you safe.”

  Well, damn. How could I argue with that?

  The man had an incredibly solid point.

  “Fine. Fuck, you’re good at this.”

  I could’ve sworn the slightest smirk hit his eyes.

  “Do not get cocky about it. I hate losing arguments to men.” I did. It was also kind of a turn-on. “And by the way, if you’re at the party, you’d better be part of the party.”

  “I’m not here to party. I’m here to work.”

  “We’ll see.”

  With that, I turned on my heel and went back to dancing with my friends. “Licky (Vandalism Remix)” was playing, and I couldn’t let a song like that go to waste. I turned it up, Carissa handed me a martini, and I danced on one of my giant ottomans, which I’d always thought of as more of a stage than a seat, with Wendy. Jewel and Elle were tinkering with my party light system, and it might’ve only been four p.m. and daylight outside, but it already felt like a party.

  Fuck it. I could make a party out of twenty-thousand people, or twenty. Or five. None of this security shit was gonna kill my buzz.

  A few songs later, Ronan left his station at the bar and headed for the front door. I caught his eye and he lifted his phone as if to say Taking a call, before heading outside.

  Shortly after that, Elle poked me, wearing that apologetic look of hers. I’d become incredibly accustomed to this look ever since she’d become a mom.

  “I know, I know.” I hugged her tight. “Time for you to go tend to the wee sweet child. Give her many, many kisses for me.”

  “Dozens,” she promised.

  I walked her outside, where Flynn was waiting next to her car, smoking. Ronan was down at the bottom of the driveway, on his phone.

  “They let you smoke in military school?” I teased Flynn as I approached. I knew he’d once been in the military, but that was literally the only thing I knew about his background.

  “Nope,” he said. “I used to smoke as a kid, before I went into Basic training.” He put his cigarette out. “Mostly because my dad would’ve murdered me if he knew.”

  Hmm. Interesting. That was more words about himself than he’d ever squeezed out, voluntarily, in my direction.

  Maybe now that he knew I wasn’t trying to fuck him, he’d loosen up a bit.

  “And this was desirable?” I asked.

  “I kinda hated him.”

  “Ah. So it was silent subterfuge. And what are you rebelling against these days? Your health?”

  “It started out as a rebellion. Now it’s a bad habit.”

  “You mean an addiction?”

  “That, too.”

  “I have a feeling you could give it up,” I told him.

  “Are you finished flirting with my driver?” Elle teased from the other side of the car.

  I rolled my eyes and went over to open her door for her. “I’m sorry, gorgeous. Let me help you with that.”

  She grinned. “Thank you.”

  She got in and I told her, “He’ll be right with you.” I smiled and shut her door as she shook her head at me. Then I turned back to Flynn. “Phew,” I said exaggeratedly, and lit the joint I’d brought with me. “Now that we got her out of the way, you can tell me. Who is it?”
>
  “Who is what?”

  “Oh, Flynn. Darling.” I took a drag of sativa. “The lady fair who has your heart. I need to know.”

  He cleared his throat. “How’re you doing here, with everything?”

  “Oh, don’t fake concern about me to change the subject. I’m just fine and dandy. I’ve got muscle now.” I gestured at Ronan; he was still down at the end of the driveway, on his phone. He looked over at us, and I turned back to Flynn.

  “It’s not fake,” he said, frowning. “I wasn’t going to leave until I asked. And I’m glad Ronan is with you. Like I told you, he’s one of the best.”

  “You’re sticking to that story, huh?”

  The frown turned thoughtful. “If you can follow his advice, he’ll keep you safe.”

  I smiled. “That’s a big if. Why don’t you come to the party tonight?”

  He glanced in Elle’s direction. She was on her phone, and the bitch actually stuck her tongue out at me.

  “Elle’s coming?” he asked.

  “Nope. She’s not. But you never know who might be here. I mean, if there’s anyone in particular you’d like me to invite…”

  He shook his head and definitely tried not to smile. “Have a nice party, Summer.” He got in the car and they backed out of the driveway.

  Ronan stepped aside to let them pass, then walked over to me where I was enjoying my smoke.

  “What?” I said, when he just stared at me.

  “They let you smoke weed in DJ school?” he said, straight-faced.

  Hmm. Was he listening to that entire conversation?

  “It was a prerequisite. Were you really on a call?’”

  “With my partner,” he said.

  “And how did you know I went to DJ school?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Music and Computer Science,” I told him, offering him the joint.

  He declined with a shake of his head.

  “It was a legit university degree,” I went on, “and I got it. Made my parents happy. I grew up a total tech nerd. Played classical piano for old people in concert theaters by day and snuck into raves by night. That’s where I found my heart.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “But I’m sure you know all that.”

  He neither confirmed nor denied. “Are you close with your parents?” he asked instead.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you told them about what happened?”

  I took a puff off my joint and mumbled, “Not yet.”

  He gave me a look that suggested I should get on that.

  “I’ll get around to it,” I muttered.

  I would. Eventually. But my dad was gonna freak, and it wasn’t gonna be pretty.

  That could just wait a while. I had enough to deal with right now.

  “So, what was that about?” he asked. “With Elle’s bodyguard. Flynn?”

  “You know his name. Don’t say it like you don’t. I’m sure you’ve got a dossier on everyone I’ve come into contact with in the last year.” When he didn’t even open his mouth to deny that, I said, “Holy shit. Do you?”

  “You were flirting with him. Should I put that in the dossier?”

  His face was carefully blank. He had the stony thing down, but the man definitely asked provocative questions. Made me wonder what was really going on in his head.

  “I told you, I flirt with a lot of people. I think Flynn’s a bigger fan of you than me, though. Says you’re a god among bodyguards… something like that.”

  Ronan said nothing, just studying me as I smoked my joint.

  “I heard he used to work for you,” I pried.

  “He did.”

  That was all he offered on the subject.

  “He’s in love with some mystery girl,” I filled him in, breezily. “I’m just trying to figure out who it is. I love playing matchmaker.”

  “I’ll add that to your file.”

  I was pretty sure he was serious.

  “I have a fabulous success rate,” I informed him, in case he doubted my skills.

  “What kind of success rate are we talking?”

  “I’d say, maybe fifty-fifty?” I eyed him. “Actually… that doesn’t sound so good. I sincerely hope your success rate is better than mine.”

  “I’ve never lost a client, if that’s what you mean. And I’ve never had someone get seriously injured on my watch.”

  Well, that was sobering. I noticed he said “seriously,” but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know exactly what he meant by that.

  Would he tell me more, if I asked?

  “Have you done this before?” I asked instead. “Helped someone get a restraining order?”

  “I have.”

  “Who?”

  “A former client. Her ex-husband was violent.”

  “You’ve seen some shit, haven’t you.”

  “Yup.”

  “You’re very honest.”

  “No reason not to be.”

  “You don’t like talking about yourself, though.”

  That seemed to catch him off-guard. “Well… I guess I’m not so used to talking about myself,” he said carefully. “With clients.”

  “Mmm. I have a dossier myself.” I tapped my head.

  “You have every right to.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans, maybe in an effort to appear less intimidating. Just made him look more sexy when his arms flexed in his thin sweater. “I realize I’m a stranger in your house. I’ll do whatever I can to make it easy on you. If there’s anything you want to know, you can ask.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  I did, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to ask him much more. Seemed like everything I learned about him just made me like him more.

  All flirting aside, I’d realized after yesterday’s little freak-out that I wasn’t sure I could afford those kinds of feelings right now. I was already feeling off-kilter, and yes, the V-word.

  I felt vulnerable as hell.

  Getting the feels for my bodyguard—especially if they weren’t reciprocated—wasn’t gonna help.

  Instead, I admitted, “I haven’t been sleeping so well since the break-in. That’s not normal for me. I guess I’d just like to keep doing what I do, as close to ‘normal’ as possible. What I really don’t want is to become crippled by fear.” I shrugged uncomfortably. “I feel… weakened. Does that make sense? I just want to feel strong again.”

  Ronan was silent for a moment. Then he said, “You need security, Summer. And that in itself is not a weakness.”

  “I don’t want to need you.”

  “I know.”

  I cleared my throat and frowned at the last bit of my joint, which had burned right down to nothing without me noticing.

  “Hey, do you think you can do me a favor and go pick up a bottle of Chambord?” I looked up into his eyes. “I’m making these special cocktails for the party, and I feel like getting the liquor here is key to the success of the event.”

  He didn’t reply. But he was studying me like he was trying to read between the lines of that, to what I wasn’t coming right out and saying.

  “I need someone I can trust on the task,” I added. “We need Cointreau, too. I’m out, and we have to make Cosmos.”

  “Do you?”

  “Definitely. And,” I confessed, “I think I need to not be around you twenty-four-seven.”

  He looked at me for a long moment… and there it was. The lines of his face softened with compassion.

  And damn, that look could really do a girl in.

  I looked away.

  “I’ll go get it,” he said. “As soon as one of my guys gets here to cover for me.”

  “Great.”

  I hesitated, almost chickening out. But then I dug into the pocket of my jacket and fished out the spare garage door opener. I held it out to him. “You can park your bike in the garage when you get back.”

  He looked at the door opener, then took it, slowly.

  “I mean, if you want to,” I added. His
eyes met mine and I shrugged. “It’s October. It’s gonna rain eventually.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “You’re welcome.” I smiled a little. “Would it be pushing it to ask you to hit a dispensary, too? We need weed.”

  He actually rolled his eyes a bit. “Fine.”

  I hopped a little. “Yay! I’ll give you a list of what we want.”

  Then I ran back into the house, and I could’ve sworn I felt him smiling behind my back.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ronan

  The next day I was awake early, though not as early as usual. Somewhere around seven-thirty I was up and ready to get to work.

  I found Summer’s kitchen and living room a mess in the aftermath of last night’s party, but her cleaning lady showed up at eight o’clock, right on time. I let her in when she knocked and gave her the new key. I’d already had my team run a quick check on her, and I’d talked to her on the phone to fill her in on the new drill.

  She was friendly and amenable, and seemed genuinely concerned about Summer’s safety. And she did indeed sing while she washed the dishes. I could hear her from my room.

  I hadn’t heard anything from Summer yet this morning, but she didn’t seem to be much of a morning person. And no wonder, given the nocturnal life she seemed to lead.

  I hadn’t gotten much sleep myself. The party went late and I’d stayed up, watching over things until the last guest left around three a.m.. As did Summer.

  And Andre.

  I’d let him go once the house cleared out, and he’d pretty much begged me to “find out which of Summer’s hot friends might need a bodyguard” and get him the gig.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” I’d told him as I was nudging him out the door.

  “Since when? Just slip them some cards. You never know who might call, needing her body guarded.” That statement was punctuated with an eyebrow waggle.

  “I’m not assigning you to a client you’ve got a crush on,” I informed him.

  “Wow,” he said. “Never would’ve pegged you for a hypocrite, brother.”

  Obviously, he was inferring my relationship with my own client and the fact that I’d assigned myself to her detail. Maybe he’d picked up on the fact that I was attracted to her.