by D'Ann Lindun
He swept her up and deposited her on the bed as gently as if she were one of the many exquisite awards she’d seen scattered around the house when he’d taken her on a tour. His gaze roamed her, coming to rest on her slightly rounded belly. A smile curved his lips.
His clothes fell on the floor, landing with soft whispers.
The huge mattress dipped as he joined her.
He moved his body over hers, keeping his weight off her.
She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. His lips seared hers in the kind of kiss she’d been craving—hot, intense and so sexy she instantly dampened between her legs.
When he broke away, she moaned in frustration.
He grabbed her hands and placed them above her head with their fingers intertwined. The soft hairs on his chest brushed her ultra-sensitive nipples and she gasped.
“Did I hurt you?” he sounded strained.
“The only way you can hurt me is by not making love to me.” She tossed her head in frustration. A sudden light dawned. “If you’re worried about hurting me or the baby, don’t. You won’t hurt us. Just love me like you did back home!”
Instead of the reaction she expected, he spoke. “From the moment I saw you standing in that bar, you stole my heart. How tough you were in the mountains, the way you never gave in or backed down. Everything just made me admire you even more. I’ve never met a woman like you.”
She sucked in a breath when he continued.
“I love you, Montana-girl.”
Montana’s heart and soul soared higher than an eagle. “I love you. I love you.” She pulled him close. “Show me.”
~*~
Montana lay across Johnny’s bare chest, stretched out on one of his deck chairs. He’d brought her outside to watch the sunrise. They’d made love most of the night and she was sated, tired and incredibly happy.
“I need coffee,” she said. “And a shower.”
He tightened his hold on her. “I’ll order Starbucks.”
She lifted her head. “One of those frothy-vanilla-double-caramel-things?”
His chuckle warmed her heart. “Exactly.”
“With a shot of Baileys to top it off?”
“I quit drinking.”
Montana stared at him for signs of a joke. “Seriously?”
“Yup. I got off that shit.” He smoothed a hand over her belly. “This guy needs a sober daddy.”
“That’s wonderful.” Montana pressed her lips to his.
“I want you and him—” his fingers splayed over her baby bump “—to be proud of me.”
“We are incredibly proud of you,” Montana said shyly. “I loved your song last night. Thank you.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“Loved it,” she said again. “So did the crowd.”
“This CD is going to set us on fire,” he said. “Bring us back to where we need to be.”
“I know it will,” she said loyally.
“Let me order coffee while you shower,” he said. “Then we’ll make plans.”
Half an hour later, wearing one of Johnny’s T-shirts that covered more than her abandoned dress had, she met him on the deck. He indicated two tall cups. “Your coffee is here. I ordered muffins, too.”
She sat on the chaise next to him and reached for the coffee and a banana-nut muffin. “Thank you.”
The sun had come up and a warm breeze drifted off the ocean. A lady wearing little more than strings strolled by, leading a Great Dane on a leash. This place was so foreign and strange.
Montana sipped the too-sweet concoction. It wasn’t coffee. More like a drinkable dessert. She pushed it away and nibbled the muffin. Okay, but nothing like Shannon’s homemade blueberry muffins.
Home suddenly seemed very far away.
Johnny eyed her. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She forced a smile. “Just a little queasy.”
“Should I call a doctor?” He reached for his phone.
Montana put her hand over his. “If you’re going to call a doctor every time I feel icky, you’ll have him here every half hour.”
“It’s that bad?” He sounded so guilty she had to smile.
“Yeah.”
He lay back, pulling her with him. He smoothed his lips over her forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“Not your fault.” She chuckled. “Well, it kinda is…”
“I’d do it for you if I could.”
She smoothed her hand over his chest. “What would your fans think if they knew tough old Cowboy was all soft and gooey on the inside?”
“Probably kick my ass.”
“It’ll be our little secret.” Sudden fear gripped her. “Johnny? Do you want to keep this pregnancy between us?”
“What?” He sounded astounded. “Fuck, no. Why would you say that?”
“Your fans might not like it.”
“I’m a singer, not a priest.” He placed a finger under her chin and lifted until her gaze met his. “I want to shout this news from the rooftops. If I’d known last night, I would have sung it to the world.”
“Really?” Her voice quivered. Damn hormones for making her so emotional.
He placed his hands on her cheeks and looked deep into her eyes. “I’m so fucking happy right now it’s all I can do to keep from blowing the amps out of the studio screaming my good news.”
He kissed her and within moments they were in bed.
~*~
Late in the afternoon they rose, no longer able to ignore hunger pangs. Montana couldn’t believe Johnny didn’t have food in his house and readily agreed to his suggestion of delivery of pasta.
She stared at the array he’d ordered. Expecting spaghetti, she couldn’t believe the spread across the kitchen counter. Some of the selections she’d never heard of.
“So much?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t know what would sound good to you, so I got a variety.”
“If you keep this up I’ll be fat in no time.”
Waggling his brows he said, “I can’t wait.”
She snorted. “Right. Just what every rock star wants—a fat pregnant wife. The groupies—”
“Are immaterial.” He set down his plate and walked to her side. “Listen to me, Montana-girl. Fans—groupies—are always going to be around. But that doesn’t mean I have to sleep with them. I have what I want right here.”
She blinked hard. “Really?”
He nodded. “I never cheated on Teal when we were married. Not once. I can keep my dick in my pants. I can actually control myself. Can you trust me to stay faithful?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She believed him. Johnny had never lied to her.
“I love you,” he said.
If he said it a million times she would never tire of hearing it. She smiled tremulously. “I love you, rock star.”
He kissed her, but she pulled away before they ended up in bed again.
When they settled at his enormous dining room table, he set down his fork, walked around the table and hugged her tight.
“I’ll never give you a reason not to believe me,” he said. “I promise you that.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck as joyful laughter gurgled out of her. Mirth vanished when he planted a kiss on her. Within moments the kiss turned into something more than celebration.
“If we don’t stop we’ll spend the rest of the day in bed,” she warned him.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I need to go to the hotel and get my clothes,” she said.
“You don’t need clothes.”
He carried her to his bed to prove it. Several times.
~*~
Later, they microwaved pasta and settled cross-legged on Johnny’s cream-colored sofa to eat. His dogs lay at their feet, tails wagging in anticipation of a treat.
“They’re well trained,” Montana said.
“I wish I could take credit,” Johnny said. “But I had to hire someone
because I was gone too much to do it myself.”
“When will your tour start?” She took a bite of fettuccini. Delicious. Her rebellious stomach didn’t threaten to heave.
“Supposed to be in June, but with a wedding to plan and new baby on the way, we’ll have to postpone.”
Montana’s appetite vanished. “No.”
“What?” He frowned.
“You’re not canceling your tour,” she said. “I want a courthouse wedding and a reception at the ranch after the baby comes. Nothing fancy or pretentious.”
“I have to be with you for the kid’s birth,” he said.
When he started to protest more, she held up her hand. “For the birth, yes. For the first few days until I figure things out, yeah. But I’m not a helpless twit who’s going to choke the life out of you. My grandmother gave birth on a wagon train in the middle of the Kansas prairie while she had five other children to manage. I can handle one while you take care of your business.”
“Come on the road with me,” he invited.
She laughed. “An entourage that includes a newborn?”
“Why not? It would be less crowded than a wagon train.”
Her laughter vanished. “I don’t want to raise this child in L.A. I want him or her to grow up like I did with horses and dogs”—she glanced at the mutts at her feet—“and clean fresh air in a place where you can play all day long and know you’re safe. I don’t want him or her to know Rodeo Drive or the Sunset Strip.”
“I want that, too.” He looked toward the ocean, then back to her. “I’m in the middle of recording and I don’t have time to build a studio in Colorado right now, which is what I want to eventually do. Would you consider spending part of the week here with me? Then fly home every weekend until the album’s done? After the tour, I’d like to live in Colorado full time.”
Montana’s heart sang with joy, so full she thought it might burst. Johnny Cortez offered far more than she’d ever hoped for. The family she’d always wanted.
Food forgotten, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Yes, rock star, yes.”
~The End
Melting Steele
Melting Steele
Journalist Kennedy Donovan is hired to write a rock star’s biography, but is conflicted by her feelings for the musician’s friend.
After a bitter breakup, Liam Steele seeks refuge in Colorado to escape the relentless press. The last thing he wants is another relationship, and especially not with a member of the media.
Will Kennedy get over her love for the wrong man? Can Liam see past the reporter to the woman underneath?
DEDICATION
to Brandi Dunham. I love you, baby.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A big thank you to Stephanie Berget, Rhonda Duffy, Sara Walter Ellwood, Jennifer Lowery Melissa Keir, Allison Merritt and Summer Vierra!
And a special thanks to
Rachael Brown for the title!
CHAPTER ONE
Kennedy Donovan paced and bit her thumbnail as she waited for news. Johnny Cortez—Cowboy—had rushed his girlfriend to the hospital more than twenty hours earlier when she’d gone into labor, and like most first-time fathers, he’d been freaked.
If it hadn’t been such a serious situation, the rock star’s antics would have been comical. Now, so many hours later, it didn’t seem as funny. Word had come the birth was difficult. Kennedy said a little prayer for Montana as she paced.
Kennedy looked at the people who’d congregated, and made a mental note to remember them all. Cowboy’s band, and Montana’s friends from her hometown of Black Mountain, Colorado, all gathered at the hospital when the news of the impending birth spread.
Such an odd combination of people. Members of the Silver Star band, along with Montana’s many friends, mingled, speaking in quiet tones. Cowboy’s backup singer, Adrian Devereaux, with her skunk-striped Mohawk, stood with Montana’s closest friend, Shannon Lamb. Dalton Stone—Stoney—Cowboy’s bass player, huddled with Shannon’s brother, Ryan, a hunting guide, also one of Montana’s best friends.
Rock stars and regular small-town folks. Who would have imagined them as friends? Cowboy attracted people from all walks of life, this was only a small slice of the people who flocked to him.
Including Kennedy.
Cowboy’s star power had convinced her to leave a lucrative career as a magazine editor to write his biography. Now, it was almost done and she had no idea what to do with her life, or her heart. He hadn’t encouraged her, and she doubted he even knew her feelings because she’d hidden them well. Hurting Montana, who’d been nothing but nice to her, wasn’t in Kennedy’s plans.
As soon as Cowboy’s biography was done, she’d hit the road. Hopefully, somewhere along the way, she’d find a way to shake off her unrequited love for the rock star. There wasn’t much left to do—a few more facts to check, add the baby’s birth and wrap it all up for the publishing house in New York.
By the beginning of September, she would be on the road. She just had no idea to where. Her advance from the publishing house was big enough, added to her already substantial trust fund, she didn’t have to work for a long time, if ever.
~*~
“You a reporter?”
The accusation in the male’s tone caused Kennedy to jerk up her head from the notes she’d been making. The most intense blue eyes she’d ever seen glared at her from a face made for magazine covers. The question pissed her off and she made a smart comeback. “What if I am?”
“Then you need to leave. The press isn’t needed, or wanted here.” Before she could react, the blue-eyed stranger grabbed her arm and dragged down the hallway toward the exit. He juggled a crystal vase of orange gladioluses in his right hand and her elbow in his left.
Kennedy struggled in his tight grasp. “Let go of me, you idiot.”
“Just go quietly before I call the police.” He let go of her long enough to push the bar on the door.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, she sprinted back down the hallway toward Cowboy’s friends and away from this maniac. Maybe he was high, or dangerous. Whoever he was, he was crazy. “Help, someone! Help!”
The guy was hot on her heels. “Hey, come back here.”
Kennedy picked up her pace, glad for her years in high school track. Just as she reached Cowboy and Montana’s friends, the guy chasing her caught up and grabbed the back of her shirt. He yanked it so hard she lost her balance, falling backward into a wall of muscle. A strong arm circled her waist, jerking her against him.
Whether he was knocked off balance by their quick stop, or balancing the tall vase, he lost his footing, taking her with him as he toppled to the floor like a felled redwood. The flowers flew through the air as if launched from a rocket.
Kennedy lay on top of the stranger, her back to his solid chest. The guy was like a boulder. She groaned, and shoved one of the gladioluses off her face. “Let go,” she hissed.
He tightened his arms for a moment, then released her. She struggled to her feet as all of Cowboy’s friends stared at her, some trying to hide their laughter.
Stoney Dalton held out a hand and, shaken, she took it. “Thanks.”
“What’s going on?” Stoney looked between them.
She brushed a wet strand of hair from her mouth and glared at the stranger, who’d also gotten to his feet. “This lunatic tried to drag me out of the hospital. Someone call the police, please.”
Stoney put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. “I don’t know what happened here, but this is Liam Steele. He’s here to hang out with Cowboy for a while.” He looked at the tall singer. “And this is Kennedy Donovan, Cowboy’s biographer.”
Liam’s blue eyes widened. “You’re not a reporter?”
“No,” she spat. “I am not.” She continued to glare at him. “Which I would’ve told you if you’d asked, you dolt.”
“You said—” He had the grace to look ashamed. “Sorry, love. I know Cowboy hates the press
. I thought you were sneaking in to get a scoop on the baby.”
“I was invited here by the man himself.” The rock star had yelled at her to meet them at the hospital as he ushered Montana out of the house.
“Accept my apology, lass?” His blue eyes darkened as he dipped and picked up one of the flowers, then held it out to her. She noticed his Irish accent for the first time.
For a moment, she studied him. Tall, long ebony hair hanging around his shoulders, those incredible eyes and a mouth she could only imagine as skilled. Finally, she took the flower. “Accepted.”
~*~
Liam wished the floor would open up and swallow him. He’d probably just fucked up the last chance to resurrect his career by making an honest, although huge, mistake. He knew Cowboy loathed most of the press with a passion equal to his own, and instantly thought the striking redhead was one of the many vultures who stalked musicians.
He conceded his own tussle with the press might’ve made him more than a little gun-shy.
How was he to know Kennedy was an invited member of Cowboy’s entourage? He took a long look at her. She looked like a model. Almost as tall as his six-two height, slim, auburn hair splashing down her back. Honey-brown eyes filled with anger and disdain. A pert, upturned nose and full, red-lipsticked lips. He risked a glance at her ring finger and his heart skipped a beat when he saw it was bare.
Small tits, short skirt showcasing long legs. An image of those legs wrapped around him flashed through his head and he grinned a little. Unlikely after their rocky beginning. Her feelings showed clearly in her eyes and the downturn of her luscious lips—she hated him.
A curvy blonde he didn’t know picked up the flowers and put them back in the crystal vase he’d spent an outrageous amount for and handed them to him. Interest glowed in her eyes as she handed it to him. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, love.” His Irish accent still came out a little, although he’d been in America for nearly five years.
