Ladies Love Rock Stars: Taming the Bad Boys of Rock and Roll

by D'Ann Lindun

  “Come with me.”

  God, the sexual implication.

  She had to shut up. Now.

  She spun on her heel and hurried away.

  ~*~

  So he made the lady nervous. Intrigued more than he wanted to admit, Johnny followed at a slower pace than she set with her long-legged stride. To his great surprise he was having a fantastic time in the Colorado Mountains.

  Who would have ever guessed that a day on horseback in the rain, rounding up horses and camping in primitive conditions, would make him feel more alive than anything had in a very long time? A lot of his pleasure had to do with his leggy blonde guide. Montana was nothing like anyone he’d ever met before.

  Teal would have shit if he put her in this kind of situation. Her idea of roughing it was a four-star hotel.

  In the tent, Montana knelt in front of the woodstove, adding wadded newspapers. She ignored him when he entered. Smaller than the cook tent, this one had three cots lined up in the middle of the plywood floor. Sleeping bags and duffels marked each girl’s bed. Montana closest to the door, then Adrian, and Shannon last. Johnny grinned. Adrian’s dream. Sandwiched between two hot babes. Although Adrian would have a different kind of threesome in mind than either of the country girls would probably be into.

  He sat on the cot marked as Montana’s. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Hand me a piece of wood.”

  Opening his mouth to say something about how he’d love to give her wood, he remembered how she’d taken the gearshift comment and snapped his lips shut. Somehow he’d forgotten how to deal with a lady.

  He glanced around and saw a pile of cut-up logs near the door. Taking two off the top, he carried them to Montana. She shifted to the right and he tossed them on the pile of newspapers she’d placed in the stove.

  His thigh bumped her shoulder and he deliberately left it there for a moment longer than necessary. Even through several layers of clothing he felt her stiffen. She lit the newspaper with shaking hands. Was she cold, or did his presence affect her so strongly?

  The paper quickly lit and flames spread to the chunks of pine, licking at the rivulets of sap running off them.

  She held her hands over the flames for a moment. “That’s nice.”

  “Let me warm mine, too.” He knelt beside her, their thighs touching.

  When she began to scoot over, he grabbed her wrist. “There’s room for both of us here.”

  “Okay.” Her voice sounded husky.

  Together, they held their palms over the flames. In the confines of the small tent with the only sounds the crackling fire and the canvas flapping in the wind, a lyric begin to form in Johnny’s mind. He wished for a pen and paper or his phone. Because he had neither, he hoped his memory would suffice.

  “Whew, it doesn’t take long to get toasty.” Montana pulled her hands from the flames and stood. She picked up a Coleman lantern from the opposite corner and sat on her cot. “I’ll light this now and that way we can see when we return.”

  With quick efficiency she had the lantern going, its wick hissing as it caught the flame. She hung it from a peg on the lodge pole. “Shannon probably has dinner ready. Or at least getting close.”

  “I’m starving.” Johnny didn’t mean for food. The confines of the tent created an intimate atmosphere. The low light was seductive. Romantic. He held in a snort. He hadn’t seen romance since early in his and Teal’s relationship.

  Now that he thought about it, there hadn’t ever been much romance between them. They had fallen into bed, then marriage, with no more thought than choosing a bottle of wine for dinner. They liked to fuck. Other than great sex, they hadn’t had much in common.

  Even music hadn’t bonded them.

  In fact, it had pushed them apart. Teal craved stardom without work. Because Johnny had slaved his ass off for what he’d accomplished, her need for instant fame irked him. Although willing to help her, he didn’t want to just hand over part of his success.

  Apparently Keifer hadn’t suffered any of the same qualms.

  Or maybe he was just as blinded as Johnny had been by her pussy.

  Either way, they could have each other.

  Before bitter memories could ruin his great day, he turned his attention to Montana. For some indefinable reason, he doubted she would sleep with his best friend. “Ready?”

  She bent and added another log to the stove. “Yes. That’s banked. It’ll hold until bedtime.”

  If he had his way, she wouldn’t need a fire to keep warm. He could furnish plenty of body heat. He held open the tent flap. “After you.”

  She stepped into the face of the storm, ducking her head against its wrath. While they had been inside the wind had picked up, driving snow sideways. Frozen particles stuck to the tent, trees and everything else. The entire world had turned white. A far cry from L.A.’s ninety degrees.

  As they stumbled across the short distance separating the tents, Montana reached for his hand. “Hold on to me,” she shouted.

  When was the last time a woman had held his hand? He couldn’t remember. He liked the way her fingers curled around his. Just as they reached the cook tent, a figure came from behind the men’s quarters.

  “Ryan?” Montana called.

  “It’s Joel.”

  “What are you doing out in this mess?” Montana asked.

  Joel shrugged. “I needed to piss.”

  “Is Ryan building the fire in your tent?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I need to check. If not, you’ll freeze when you climb in your sleeping bag.” She took a step in that direction. She would have let go of Johnny’s hand, but he held on.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Cowboy—”

  Johnny didn’t miss the warning Joel shot him. A clear message to stay away from Montana. Well, Joel could fuck himself. He wasn’t going off with Montana for a quick piece of ass. He was accompanying her because he didn't want her stumbling around alone in a snowstorm.

  “We’ll be right back. I need to check her fire.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” Clearly disbelieving him, Joel slipped inside.

  As Montana led the way across the uneven, snow-covered ground, Johnny thought about his manager’s unspoken message. He couldn’t really blame Joel for believing he had fucking on the brain. In the past he’d made no bones about his love of screwing as many women as possible. But a blind man could see Montana was different—obviously not the kind to lie down and spread her legs for just anybody.

  Not even Cowboy, rock star.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Montana ducked her head as she entered the tent. The mingled scents of baked salmon, coffee, damp clothes and a lot of bodies packed together hit her nose. The low hum of conversation, clink of utensils and sizzle and pop of the crackling fire created a welcoming atmosphere.

  Removing her gear, Montana hung it, along with the rest, on the lodge pole. “Smells good.”

  Shannon stood and grabbed two foil-covered plates from the back of the stove. “Your food is ready.”

  Montana took both plates and handed one to Johnny. He took it with a quick smile that made her stomach do a tumble. “Great. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Montana sank into the camp chair next to him and opened her meal. Steam rose off the salmon steak and she inhaled appreciatively. “Wow, yum.”

  Adrian looked up from her plate. “This is incredible. As good as any five-star chef could make.”

  “Thanks.” Shannon beamed.

  Ryan couldn’t resist adding his two cents. “Told you so. My sister can cook.”

  Montana filled her mouth with the fish. She’d sampled Shannon’s excellent baked salmon many times, but tonight the filet seemed tasteless. Chalking up her lack of appetite to being frozen stiff, she refused to believe it had anything to do with the man next to her making her stomach nervous.

  She stole a sideways glance at Johnny.

  Balancing his plate on his k
nees, he kept bumping her leg with his. Every time he touched her, Montana’s pulse jumped. The man had her nerves humming worse than the howling wind licking at the canvas walls around them.

  Someone passed around a bottle of blackberry brandy. When it reached Montana, she poured a bit in her cup. Maybe the liquor could wash down her nerves. She sipped, careful not to make the same mistake she had earlier by chugging it.

  Joel set his plate on the ground next to his chair. “Delicious.”

  “Very good,” Stoney said.

  “Save room,” Shannon said. “Because I have dessert.”

  “It’s really storming outside. A regular blizzard.” Joel stared into his cup as if he could read the weather forecast there. “I didn’t expect this so early in October.”

  Ryan folded his hands across his stomach and stretched his legs out in front of him. “It’s normal for this time of year. Hot one day, cold the next.”

  Adrian poured more brandy into her cup. “Didn’t you go to college in Colorado?”

  “Yeah, but we were in the city, not the mountains. Snowplows kept the streets clear. I don’t remember getting around being a problem.” Joel motioned for the bottle of brandy. “Pass that over here.” When it reached him, he poured a liberal amount into his cup.

  “Will we be able to hunt in the storm?” Johnny asked.

  “We can, but we may have to drop in elevation,” Montana told him. “The snow might drive the elk down country.”

  “Do we all go together?” He caught and held her gaze. His blue eyes reminded her of the Colorado sky.

  “No.” She studied him over the rim of her cup. “We’ll break into two groups. It’s easier to approach elk in smaller numbers. I thought you and Joel with Ryan—”

  “I want you.”

  Montana felt as if every eye in the tent was glued on her. Heat climbed up her face. She nodded stiffly. “Whatever you like.”

  Ryan broke the uncomfortable silence. “Who wants to go with me? Do I hear any takers? Going once, going twice—”

  “Gone.” Adrian raised her hand. “I’d love to have you guide me.”

  “Me, too,” Stoney said. “Between the two of you, maybe I can learn how to do this thing.”

  Joel spoke. “That leaves me with you and Cowboy, Montana. You up for dragging an amateur around with you?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  Johnny frowned. “It makes more sense to have the experts together and the beginners in the other group. You and Stoney go with Ryan. Adrian and I will ride with Montana.”

  Although Montana agreed, his high-handed manner irked her. “Sure.”

  “Works for me,” Ryan said. “I know just the place to start.”

  “Hopefully not hanging from one of these peaks.” Joel shuddered.

  Ryan grinned. “Nah. We’ll save that for another day.”

  “Thank God,” Joel said fervently, making everyone laugh.

  Shannon served her cheesecake drizzled with raspberry sauce on small tin plates.

  “You keep this up and I’ll have to hit the treadmill double hard,” Adrian said.

  “Thanks.” Shannon giggled. “But as skinny as you are, you don’t need one.” She patted her thighs. “Me, on the other hand…”

  “You’re perfect the way you are.” Adrian’s voice was warm, teasing.

  “Thanks.” Shannon ducked her chin into her collar as red climbed her face.

  Montana glanced between the women. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear Shannon and Adrian were flirting. Why? Shannon was straight. What was with these L.A. types? Did they think everyone was like them? Constantly hopping from bed to bed with no thought of who they hurt or left behind?

  She wasn’t that kind, and Shannon had never been either. Ryan liked the ladies and had been in a few relationships, but he’d never taken anyone for granted or purposely hurt someone. She supposed it was the lifestyle of a rock star to jump from woman to woman—were any happily married? But casual sex wasn’t for her.

  The wind howled around the edges of the tent and the hiss and crackle of the fire filled the air.

  “Pass that brandy,” Stoney told Joel.

  Adrian handed it to him. “Here.”

  “Thanks, buddy.”

  Montana watched, amazed, as Stoney filled his cup. What was this, his fourth or fifth refill? How was he still standing? Or even sitting? He seemed perfectly sober. They all did. If she had one more drink, she’d be lying flat on the floor, counting stitches in the roof seams.

  She glanced at Johnny. He seemed far away, lost in his thoughts, but not drunk. He’d removed his hat when he came inside and his hair hung over the back of his chair in a honey-colored sheet. She’d never liked long hair on a man. Now she had an overwhelming urge to run her fingers through the strands to see if they felt as soft as they looked.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  Was she succumbing to celebrity? Intrigued because he was famous? She stood and moved to the stove, holding her hands over the heat. She struggled to rein in her wayward thoughts.

  Johnny spoke. “The only thing we’re missing is music.”

  “Too bad I didn’t pack my guitar,” Stoney said.

  “I have my old six string in the other tent.” Ryan jumped to his feet and ducked outside. “Be right back.”

  “Can he sing?” Johnny raised an eyebrow.

  “Sure,” Montana said loyally. “Not like you or anything, but he can carry a tune well enough that he sang with Maura Whittaker before she left town.”

  “You know my music?”

  Trapped, she scrambled for a truthful answer. “I liked your last CD.”

  He snorted. “You’re the only one.”

  “Yeah,” Stoney said. “Another flop like that bitch and we’ll all be in the unemployment line.”

  “I agree.” Adrian nodded. “We might as well start looking for a new job as soon as Betrayed drops.”

  “You’re wrong. This next one is going to fly,” Johnny said. “I feel it.”

  “You think the public is going to buy your breakup album, knowing how much they adored your homage to Teal?” Adrian sounded disgusted.

  “All the more reason. They’ll pick it apart trying to figure out when it all went wrong.” Johnny sounded brittle. Harsh. “If someone has it figured out maybe they could let me know.”

  “You said Dillon Travers lived here, maybe he could give us some pointers,” Adrian said. “Since he’s country music’s top dog.”

  Montana picked at a thread in her jeans. Although the talk of Johnny’s ex made her uncomfortable, her curiosity was piqued, too. Were the reports true? His wife left him for his best friend? Why? From what little Montana had gleaned from her search on the web, he’d loved the woman. The hurt in his voice seemed to confirm it.

  “You better hope.” Stoney drained his cup. “We all should.”

  “Maybe you’re right, Cowboy. I do know you’re going to find out the breakup is the best thing that ever happened to you,” Adrian said. “I keep telling you that. You just won’t believe it yet because your pride got stung. But Teal wasn’t right for you. We all saw it. You’re the only one who couldn’t.”

  Joel cleared his throat. “Maybe this isn’t the time or place to dissect Cowboy’s love life.”

  Adrian ignored him. “You couldn’t see past Teal’s pussy. She was looking for a dick to climb and you provided her one. For whatever reason, Keifer’s just looked a little bigger.”

  “I know.” Johnny reached for the vodka bottle next to him. “I was a fucking dumbass.”

  “We’ve all been there.” Adrian leaned back and narrowed her eyes at him. “So stop wallowing and get on with it.”

  He raised the vodka bottle. “Whatever you say, babe. You’re the expert in chicks taking off.”

  Adrian shot him the finger. “Fuck you.”

  With a grin, Johnny said, “I would, but you don’t like dick…”

  Montana squirmed. Johnny might have a smar
t mouth, but his obvious pain made her want to comfort him. Hold him. Tell him everything would be okay. All very dangerous things. A straight path to heartache.

  Ryan ducked back into the tent, holding his guitar case. “Got it.”

  Johnny brightened. “All right!”

  Ryan withdrew his guitar as gently as if he were lifting a newborn from its cradle. “Come here, sweetheart.”

  All eyes locked on him as he strummed a few notes. Then, in a low, clear voice, he began to sing The Night the Lights Went out in Georgia.

  After a moment, Adrian joined him, her beautiful voice blending with the amateur’s. Together, they told the tale of a man condemned to die for sleeping with a married woman.

  When they finished, everyone sat silent.

  Montana doubted Ryan knew about Johnny’s wife and how she’d run off with another man, but the lyrics hit a little too close to home for her comfort. Johnny, however, seemed unfazed.

  “Nice job.” Adrian leaned forward and gave Ryan a high five. “You’ve got a great voice.”

  “So do you,” he said.

  She laughed. “That’s what they tell me.”

  In a moment he began to play an old tune. “You know Ghost Riders?”

  “Of course!” She began to hum the bars.

  Ryan played as Adrian sang about a ghost chasing a herd of cattle through a storm.

  Although shy in front of professional musicians, Montana opened her mouth and joined the chorus. The familiar words poured out in a heartfelt rendition her dad would have loved. Shannon joined in, and together their voices soared.

  Catching Shannon’s eye, Montana shared a tremulous smile with her. Wendall Weaver had loved it when Ryan played this song—one of his favorites. Montana swallowed the lump in her throat. God, she missed her dad.

  After the song ended, Adrian clapped. “Holy shit. You people are talented.”

  Ryan shrugged. “I play with Maura Whittaker from time-to-time.”

  Montana’s cheeks heated. Had she really just performed in front of a group of famous musicians? “It’s just an old favorite of my dad’s. One we’ve sung a million times.”