Lucky 7 Bad Boys Contemporary Romance Boxed Set

by Pineiro, Charity

  “Yeah, I hear ‘em.”

  He continued to play the notes on his mind, closing his eyes as new verses came to the forefront. Rachael was in every single note. The honey-blonde waves of her hair, the softness of her cheek, the sweetness of her lips. As he imagined Rachael with him in this moment, the unruly, staccato notes molded into something flowing and effortless.

  “What is that?” Rita said, glaring at his fingers as they plucked at the strings. “What are you doing?”

  He shrugged. “Going over a song.”

  A song that was born as he sat in the living room of the inn, thinking about how he wanted to be the man Rachael needed him to be.

  How that wasn’t possible.

  He hadn’t named the song, but the core notes of the chorus were: Run to him, think of me.

  “That’s not a song in your act. Damn it, Cole.” Rita put two firm hands on his shoulders and shook. “You need to focus. After what happened in Houston, we cannot afford for you to slip up. You have to concentrate on playing the songs on the schedule for tonight. You have to make that crowd love the music so that they love you and forget all about the drama with what’s-her-pretty-face.”

  “I got it.” He slung the guitar over his shoulder. “Believe me, I hear you.”

  Thanks to Rachael, he’d already forgotten all about Tori West.

  Although she didn’t want him, she had no problem getting her panties in a wad when she thought he wanted to date someone else.

  “Okay, then.” Rita smiled wide and toothy. “Let’s get you out there.”

  As he strode out the dressing room door, his security team fell into line around him. Some flanked him, others followed two steps behind. Cole kept his head down, and his stride sure, as he closed in on the elevator that’d lead him to the stage. The roar of the crowd increased as he stepped into the elevator.

  Out of instinct, his fingers found the strings of his guitar and his heart raced.

  Drums pounded from above as Ronnie geared up for Cole’s intro.

  “Remember,” Rita said, moments before the doors hissed shut. “Keep your head in the music and your eyes on the crowd.”

  The doors closed, leaving him to his thoughts. Outside the elevator, the crowd went nuts. His fingers played:

  Run to him, think of me.

  In my heart, you’ll always be.

  Taking a deep breath, Cole struggled to put Rachael out of his head and stepped out of the elevator onto a small opening shrouded by black fabric swags. On the other side the heavy cloth, his fans stood, cheered, screamed, and jumped up and down. The roar was deafening, nearly blocking out Ronnie’s beating drums.

  Promise me you won’t wait,

  Deep down I know you deserve better.

  I want you to be happy

  Even if that means I sleep alone.

  Love isn’t in the cards for us,

  But it may be for you and him.

  The words struck him hard, causing him to stagger back. His stomach wrenched and those little floating stars flickered in front of his eyes.

  What the hell was happening?

  “Ladies and gentleman!” Jersey, his lead guitarist, hollered into the microphone. “Cole Turner!”

  Cole knew the routine. He should’ve charged through the black swags and ran to the edge of the stage. Slapped hands with as many fans as he could reach. He should’ve screamed and grabbed the microphone, starting the first song right away.

  But his feet wouldn’t budge.

  “Cole Turner!” Jersey announced again.

  Run to him, think of me.

  Did it really have to be this way?

  Thick beams of a spotlight criss-crossed over the stage. Jersey called his name a third time. The crowd chanted over and over again, demanding Cole’s entrance onto the stage.

  This was stupid. He wanted Rachael. She wanted him; he’d tasted the desire on her lips. So what was the problem? He couldn’t have her because he was leaving? Because she wanted something long term and he couldn’t give that to her?

  When did he turn into mother-effing Ghandi?

  With a deep breath and an odd warmth spreading through his chest, Cole pushed through the curtain and strode to the center of the stage.

  * * *

  Rachael was curled up in bed, the quilt pulled up to her chin, when the front door to the inn creaked open. She rolled over and glanced at the clock. It was nearly two a.m.

  Concert must’ve been a hit.

  Or maybe Cole and Lucy got together afterward. She’d had a backstage pass, and who knew what went on backstage after a rock concert? Members of the band probably smoked weed, drank expensive liquor and divided up groupies. One helluva party.

  Heavy footsteps pounded through the living room and into the dining room beneath her. More than one set of footsteps, if she wasn’t mistaken.

  And then came the shouting.

  “I still don’t think you get it,” Rita hollered, her shrill voice booming through the inn. “You screw up once, okay, I’ll figure out a way to clean up the mess. You screw up again, and there’s nothing I can do!”

  “I get it!” he fired back. “You think I want to screw up like that? You think I don’t know how that makes me look?”

  Whatever happened must’ve been bad.

  Someone dropped something heavy onto the floor. Clutching the sheet to her chest, Rachael swung her feet over the edge of the bed and listened.

  “What happened?” Rita yelled. “Is it the model again?”

  Rachael listened harder.

  “No, it’s not her. It’s…” Another boom fell to the floor. Was someone stomping? Kicking the furniture? “…I started thinking about something else and lost focus for two seconds.”

  “Well two seconds was all you needed to muddle everything up!” Rita countered. “It’s a good thing you’ve got a second show tomorrow night to redeem yourself. You’re going to get the innkeeper to make you a pot of coffee right now and you’re going to sit your fine backside down and go over every song in the lineup. Got me?”

  “I got you.”

  “Where is that innkeeper anyway?” Rita spat. “Isn’t this her job?”

  Rachael got out of bed, slid her feet into her slippers and shrugged into her robe. As she made her way down the hall, her steps slowed. If she went downstairs now, seconds after Rita mentioned her, they’d know she’d been eavesdropping.

  “She’s probably sleeping,” Cole said. “I’ll make the coffee myself. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be alone while I practice.”

  Silence.

  “Fine, but you better get your act together before tomorrow night. Take the day off, let me and the crew take care of everything at the venue. Show up at six o’clock, ready to kill the show. Got it? Six!” Long, tension-strained pause. “What you don’t seem to understand is that you’re the talent, Cole. The talent. If you lose that, all you’re left with is a gorgeous face, and that won’t get you too far in this business.”

  He must’ve nodded, because without another word, Rita stormed out the front door, slamming it behind her.

  Rachael shuffled down the stairs and stopped at the bottom. Cole leaned back against the dining room wall, his foot kicked up, his head dropped back as if he was reading invisible words on the ceiling.

  “You want coffee?” she said, her voice crackling through the stillness.

  He startled. “Jesus, Rachael. You can’t creep up on people like that.”

  “Who else would you expect to be here in the middle of the night?”

  He nailed her with a heated glare. “This place is supposed to be haunted, right? Could’ve been a ghost or something.” He rolled his eyes and sagged against the wall. “What are you doing up?”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” She tightened her robe to make sure it was closed. She wasn’t nude beneath, but the white tank and panties didn’t cover much. “I wasn’t listening to your conversation, but I caught the tail end. You want me to make you coffee?”


  He nodded, his eyes going dark as she passed by and swept into the kitchen. She made a fresh pot and waited until a cup was ready to pour. As she spun around, mug in hand, she nearly plowed into him.

  “I was going to bring it out to you.” She handed it over.

  He drank quickly, wincing when the liquid hit his lips. “I’ll take it here, thanks.”

  She stood, watching. Waiting for him to do or say something. He was acting strange. Whatever happened at the concert must’ve really bothered him. After taking a few sips, he set the mug on the counter.

  “Why’d you leave after dinner tonight?” he said, licking traces of coffee of his lips.

  She shrugged, and poured herself a cup. She didn’t want it, but it kept her hands busy and her attention off his plush, kissable mouth. “I had things to do here.”

  “Like sweep the floors? Dust? Mop? Clean for guests who aren’t here?”

  “You’re here,” she countered.

  “For now.” He took another drink, and then set the mug back down. “Why’d you leave?”

  He was acting like a different person. Rachael had never been good at reading people or detecting their energy, but Cole was wound tight. His fists and jaw were clenched, and the gleam in his eyes was harsh. Unyielding. There was no tenderness or fun, no hint of his natural flirty demeanor in the white lines of his mouth.

  “If you’re fine with the coffee,” she said, leaving her cup where she’d poured it. “I think I’m going to head back to bed.”

  He shadowed her move, blocking her way into the dining room. “Aren’t you going to ask how the concert went?”

  “That’s not really any of my business.” She fisted the lapels of her robe and crossed them over one another, clamping them shut. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to bed.”

  He didn’t budge. “I forgot the words to my own damn songs.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Her hands fell to her sides. “What happened?”

  “You happened!” He paced in a circle, tunneling his fingers through his hair. “You left dinner angry, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how you had absolutely no right to leave that way.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” He stopped pacing and put a hand in front of her that nearly touched her chest. “I thought about things I wanted to say to you, things I shouldn’t say, and when I should’ve sang one lyric, I belted another. I did that three goddamn times! You distracted me to the point that I couldn’t focus on the show and now my reputation as a performer is about to be flushed down the damn toilet.”

  She recoiled. “You think this is my fault?”

  “Damn right it is.”

  “I wasn’t even there!”

  He tapped his boot against the floor. “Why’d you leave dinner tonight?”

  She opened her mouth to tell him and then clamped it closed. She didn’t have to explain why she was angry. She wasn’t his girlfriend. He was a guest. A paying guest. And she certainly didn’t have to sit here taking the brunt of his anger.

  “Goodnight, Cole.”

  She swept past him. He grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. His eyes were on her, cold and hard, the way they’d been this morning when she’d left him to call Joey. And when she stared back, raising her eyebrows in defiance, the intensity in his gaze ramped up a few degrees.

  “Why’d you leave?” he said, his voice low.

  She lifted her chin at him. “You’re a smart guy, Cole. Why do you think?”

  “I want to hear you say it.” Gently, he pushed her back against the pantry door.

  Her heart thumped in her ears. “I told you, I had work to do.”

  “No,” he said, gritting his teeth together. “Try again.”

  “I was tired.”

  He cupped her face in his big, rough hands and lifted her chin so that she had no choice but to look him square in the eye. “Not buying it.”

  She gave a full body shudder. “Lucy’s one of my best friends and she’s crazy about you. I think you guys would be great together, but I didn’t want to stick around to watch it happen.”

  His hands dropped to his side. “Do you honestly think I want Lucy?”

  “Well you asked if—”

  “I thought I could fix her up with my drummer.” He coughed into a husky laugh. “You think I’m losing sleep because of Lucy? Do you honestly think I’m so twisted over your friend that I forgot my lyrics?”

  “How am I supposed to know what you—”

  “You clearly don’t know anything.”

  She flinched. “Englighten me, then.”

  “You don’t want to hear a damn thing I’ve got to say right now.” Groaning, he rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “You don’t want to hear that I’m strung out over you, Rachael. You’ve got me spinnin’ so many circles I can’t see straight. I can’t think about anything but getting you into bed.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “But that’s not romantic at all, which is what you want, and I clearly can’t give that to you.”

  He wanted her? Badly, apparently. The anger that’d been building in her belly waned at the thought.

  “That’s n—not what I expected.” Rachael shivered beneath the heady weight of his stare. “But it doesn’t change anything.”

  He was still leaving. She was staying behind. He was a rock star from Hollywood and she was a country girl from the mountains. They may’ve had chemistry that ranked off the charts, but in what universe would the two of them have a future together? And that wasn’t what he wanted anyway, she reminded herself. He didn’t want anything long-term.

  “You don’t want me,” he said, “that’s fine. But keep your anger to yourself, because it’s screwing with my head.”

  “Who says I don’t want you?”

  He moaned from deep in his throat. “Don’t tease me, woman.”

  He pinned her in place, one hand on the wall over her shoulder, another palming her stomach. And when all the air she had in her lungs whooshed out on a breathy exhale, he wedged his knee between her thighs. He searched every feature of her face: her eyes and nose, her chin, until finally, his gaze honed on her mouth.

  “I’m not teasing.” She looked up at him, wanting him to kiss her, knowing she’d be lost if he did. “I want you so bad, but I can’t go there with you.”

  “And you shouldn’t.”

  Her breath came out in jagged pants. “I know how this ends.”

  “Yet we haven’t even started.” He lowered his head to hers. “Tell me to walk away and I will.”

  Her knees shook as the words left her lips. “I…can’t.”

  “Then tell me to kiss you.”

  Time stood still as he stared down upon her, the gaze in his heavy-lidded eyes hungry and wild. One glimpse into those smooth, melting-honey eyes and she was a goner. With his body hovered over her this way, possessive and strong, it was easy to forget that she wanted something more than a fling.

  God, did it matter? The other times she’d gotten involved with guests, she’d thought there was a future. Of course she’d gotten hurt when it didn’t pan out.

  But this time could be different.

  There was no future with Cole Turner; she knew that.

  What was the harm in wanting to taste or feel something one time? If she wrapped her head around the fact that this was it, one night, one romp, she might not be disappointed when he left.

  She looked up at him and sighed. “Kiss—”

  It was all she got out before he claimed her mouth and plunged his tongue past her lips.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cole feasted on her mouth, his hands tugging and pulling at the tie around her waist. As the robe fell open, he splayed his hands down her stomach and pulled back.

  She was exquisite. Simple white tank top. Cotton panties. Smooth skin over lean muscle. Moonlight streaked through the kitchen windows, slanting over her porcelain skin, giving her a sexy, amber glow.
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  “Beautiful,” he said, and found her mouth once more.

  She sighed into him, her arms roping around his neck. She twisted and twirled her tongue along his, setting fire to the blood in his veins. Needing to touch her, he dropped to his knees and worshipped her breasts. He held the full weight of them in his hands. Snatched the bottom of her tank top with his teeth and yanked it up. He kissed the flat span of her stomach, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her silky soft skin. Digging her nails into his hair, she fisted a handful and tugged. Pain mixed with the pleasure and suddenly touching her wasn’t enough.

  He gazed up her body. Grabbed ahold of the top ridge of her tank top and pulled it below her breasts. They were perky and lush, with two pink nipples pulled tight from his touch.

  He had to draw those tightly budded nipples into his mouth.

  As he slid up her body, drew his hand around her neck and guided her mouth to his, she staggered back. He used the momentum to drive her backward until she was flush against the kitchen cabinets.

  She gasped into his mouth, and he hardened to the point of pain.

  Lowering himself to her breasts, he suckled one of those perfectly-pebbled nipples into his mouth and kneaded the other. As she leaned back against the counter, Cole ravished her breasts and spread her legs.

  “Cole,” she moaned, pressing his head to her breast.

  “I love the sound of my name on your lips.”

  “Then from here on out,” she breathed, “you’ll have to draw it out of me.”

  She ran her fingers around his shoulder and down his arms. His skin flushed, burning from the heat of her touch.

  “Challenge accepted.” The urge to taste her hit him like a sledgehammer. “These,” he said, running his finger along the band of her panties, “need to come off.”

  She kicked out of them quickly and settled back against the counter. Yanking open a cabinet door, he used it as a ledge and propped her leg so she’d open up for him. And then, before she could protest, he pleasured her with his mouth until she cried out his name again and again. She tasted good. Better than good. The sweetest honey he’d ever had on his tongue.

  He needed more.

  “I want you inside me,” she said, dragging him up her body. “Tell me you have a condom.”