A Little Night Music

by Andrea Dale

  “We’ve had this argument before,” Hannah reminded him. “You know how he feels about it.”

  “Shit, I know,” Sam said. He squinted up into the sun. His foot had taken over his internal rhythm, tapping restlessly. “I just want him to maintain that bad-boy image. Being the poster boy for an anti-drug campaign just doesn’t cut it.”

  Hannah took a long swallow of the cold water. What she really wanted to do was hit Sam with the bottle. The two of them had clashed endlessly over this. “Options is good for him. When they approached him about being a spokesperson, Nate was really excited.”

  “Yeah, well, next thing you know, he’ll be wanting to visit local schools to tell the kids to stay off of drugs.”

  She frowned at Sam. She couldn’t see why that was a bad idea.

  “If he wanted to be a do-gooder, at least he could have picked a charity that didn’t focus on drugs,” Sam went on.

  As she’d told him time and again, people weren’t going to forget Nate had had a drug problem. This was a way for him to turn the negative into positive publicity. He could still have a bad boy image without drugs.

  She knew Sam wanted only the best for Nate. The older man had been with Nate a long time and in many cases did know what was best. But he didn’t have the PR training and experience that she had.

  Patiently, Hannah guided the conversation back to her original question. “So are the T-shirts selling?”

  Sam ran a hand through his curly hair. “The Options spokesperson here is thrilled. They’ve almost sold out of the large size.”

  “See, it was a good thing,” Hannah told him with a cheeky grin. It had been her idea to feature the Fox band logo on T-shirts for the House. Borders was allowing them to be sold, with the proceeds going to the charity. Nate would sign them when fans brought them up to his table.

  “I hate being wrong,” Sam muttered before marching off and leaving her to crowd-watch.

  Hannah drifted along the sidewalk in the direction of the store entrance. She wanted to peek in on Nate. She loved to watch him work.

  “It’s her!” The excited shout had her looking around to see what was going on.

  “Hannah!”

  A woman was waving to her from the line, fairly bouncing up and down in her excitement.

  Confused, Hannah walked over to her. Maybe they’d met at a concert. A sun visor hid a part of the woman’s face, and made it impossible to tell from a distance.

  The woman elbowed a friend. “I told you it was her!”

  Sure now that she didn’t know the woman, Hannah was about to say hello when a tabloid was suddenly shoved into her face.

  “You’re Nate’s girlfriend. We saw your picture in here!”

  There was suddenly a lot of people looking her way. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone holding up a cell phone, snapping a picture.

  The woman was hurriedly flipping pages. “Here,” she said finally, stabbing a finger at a picture. “Will you sign this for me, please?”

  Hannah’s hands were shaking. Ignoring the pen shoved her way, she stared at the picture.

  It was the paparazzo shot from Lorelei. The bastard had caught her at a highly unflattering angle. Her mouth was wide open, her eyes squinty, and Nate’s fork poised there.

  “A new low instead of his high,” the article began. “Rocker Nate Fox was caught at a trendy Las Vegas restaurant sharing a romantic meal for two. Gone are the supermodel and starlet beauties of the past. Fox’s new amore is his publicist, Hannah Montgomery. No longer on the A-List, is Fox reduced to dating his employees?”

  Her stomach plummeted. The heat was suddenly unbearable. Her vision telescoped to a single point. The rest of the world was black.

  Just the picture.

  An ugly, accusatory picture.

  Someone was shaking her arm. She looked up to meet the woman’s excited eyes.

  “Will you introduce me to him?”

  People were pressing close, drawn by the excitement. Suddenly and unwillingly a celebrity, Hannah felt overwhelmed, sick. Pinned open and flayed alive.

  “Ask her if he’s good in bed!” The shout came from someone at the back of the crowd.

  “Excuse me,” she said faintly. “I have to go.” She tried to move away, but someone grabbed at her. The woman with the tabloid shook the paper, still waving a pen.

  “Please, let me out,” Hannah said. She felt dizzy. Penned in.

  Her mouth wide open, her faced squished up.

  Reduced to dating an employee.

  A new low.

  “Please,” Hannah repeated.

  A strong arm curled around her shoulders. A dark brown hand closed over the pages of the tabloid, pulling it from the fan’s grasp.

  “Everyone step back now,” Andre said. The low rumble of his voice would have shattered a glacier.

  What the words didn’t do, the breadth of his shoulders and the utterly ruthless expression on his face accomplished. The crowd moved back enough to let them through.

  Two of the guards that Andre had hired as extra security stepped in to regain control.

  “You should be with Nate,” she said faintly.

  “He’s just fine inside,” Andre answered. He bent his head close to hers. “I was told you were being accosted out here. What the hell is going on?”

  They’d reached the store entrance, and Andre steered her inside. The shocking cold of the air conditioning was a slap in the face. She drew away a little, but let Andre keep his arm around her waist.

  Everyone was looking at them. She could see them staring.

  Not a supermodel.

  Not a starlet.

  Just a plain employee with her mouth wide open.

  She was grateful when Andre took her back into the employee break room. She sank down into a hard chair, and felt his hand at the back of her neck, pushing her head down between her knees. About to protest that she wasn’t going to faint, Hannah kept silent when she realized that it was making her feel better.

  A half-drunk can of Coke sweated on the table, and there was a faint smell of tuna in the small room, probably emanating from some crumpled tinfoil in the full trash can.

  A burst of static, and Andre spoke quietly into his walkie-talkie.

  “Sam’s on his way,” Andre said. “Are you all right, honey?”

  She looked up at him. He’d taken off his mirrored sunglasses, and his dark eyes were concerned. “Have you seen the picture in the tabloid?”

  A glance down at the paper he still held in one hand and a quick shake of his head told her that he hadn’t. His big hands flipped the pages deftly. When he reached the short article, he frowned. “I’ll find out who took this and arrange for him to meet with an accident.”

  The fact that she couldn’t tell if he were kidding or not was worrisome.

  “What’s up?” Sam asked. He stood in the doorway, looking from one to the other.

  Wordlessly, Andre handed him the paper.

  The frown that drew Sam’s brows together changed the whole dimension of his face. “Well.”

  “I’m supposed to be helping Nate, not dragging him down.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” Sam said. A quick motion of his head sent Andre out the door. He stared at Hannah, his hands shoved down into his pockets. “I thought you’d be good for him, but I have to say I’m not happy about this.”

  She took the criticism in silence. Her misery couldn’t go any deeper. She had enough self-confidence to know that she was pretty and sexy, but she also knew she couldn’t compete with glamour girls. She knew that under her gloss and shine, she was still sometimes gawky. A little boring, even.

  But she didn’t need it in print for the world to see.

  “What are you going to do about it?” Sam asked her. “What kind of spin can you put on it?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “They wanted my autograph, Sam.”

  He pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “Great. So now you’re a celebrity, too. M
aybe you can sign some photos and sell them on eBay.”

  She winced at his sarcasm. “I’m sorry.”

  “Too late for that now. I thought the two of you were going to be discreet.”

  She glared at him. It was bad enough that she was beating herself up. She didn’t need him to help. “I didn’t arrange for the paparazzi to be there, you know. The manager at Lorelei said he’d snuck in using another name. They’re normally really good at protecting their customer’s privacy.” She sounded defensive, and she didn’t care.

  “I want you to fix this.”

  “I will,” Hannah promised.

  “I don’t want to see any more articles with the words “new low” and “Nate Fox” together.”

  “You won’t.”

  With a last hard look, Sam left the room.

  Hannah dropped her head into her hands. She’d really screwed up this time. She’d jeopardized Nate’s career, and probably jettisoned her own as well. Her work with Jenna Glenn, with Double Zero, with Simone DiPaolo, would be forgotten, eclipsed by her sensational failure here, as well as her sensational stupidity of getting involved with a client. Even if her actual publicity work for Nate was fantastic, from the outside it would look as if she’d been thinking with her panties, not her professionalism.

  Fact was, she had been thinking with her panties, from the moment she’d gotten into the elevator with Nate.

  And now it had turned around and bitch-slapped her.

  *

  Nate’s fingers tightened. The paper crumpled in his fist. “I’m sorry, Hannah,” he said quietly.

  They sat on the empty tour bus. Nate had just finished a sound check. She hadn’t wanted him to see the article until after the night’s concert, but one of the local stage crew had shown it to him.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Hannah said. “I should have known better.” She couldn’t bear to look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the condemnation in his eyes. She was supposed to put him back on the top, not drag him down even further.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded. “Look at me, Hannah.”

  She dared a glance up at him. The anger in his gaze seared her. Blinking back the hot burn of tears, she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get involved with you. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “What was it supposed to be like?” He dropped to his knees in front of her. The hands that gripped her thighs sent heat straight to her core.

  “I know you’re angry—”

  “Not with you, love,” he said softly. “With the bastard that took the picture, and the paper who bought it, and the person who wrote that shitty article. But not with you.”

  “You should be,” Hannah said. “I should have known to keep it professional between us.”

  “Fuck that,” he told her. “I wouldn’t change a thing about the past few weeks.” He smoothed back a lock of her hair, tucking it behind one ear. His fingers lingered on her cheek. “I wouldn’t change a thing about us.”

  “I’m not what you need,” she whispered. Against her better judgment, she leaned into his caress, needing to feel his touch.

  His hand cupped the back of her neck, urging her forward. “You’re exactly what I need.”

  The kiss was gentle and sweet. It did what nothing else could have done, and swept her out of herself, away from the misery. There was only Nate, and the joy of his mouth on hers. His scent, earthy and male, wrapped around her, drugging her. When he nudged her thighs apart, she acquiesced with a low moan. Gripping his tight, denim-covered ass, she pulled him close, rocking against the hard length of his cock. The buzz of arousal began low in her stomach, increasing with each flex of his hips. She ached for him.

  A sharp banging snapped her upright, pressing her back against the leather chair and away from the temptation of his body.

  “Nate, we need you backstage,” Sam’s voice came from just outside the bus. His fist against the door punctuated his summons.

  “Yeah, okay,” Nate called out. “I’m sorry,” he murmured to Hannah. He rested his forehead against hers, the midnight blue of his eyes dark with arousal. He took one last kiss, a sinful dip of his tongue into her mouth.

  “We haven’t finished this conversation,” he promised. A quick adjustment of his cock in his pants, a last piercing look, and he was gone.

  And Hannah was alone.

  So very alone.

  *

  The heavy bass beat thrummed up through the floor, vibrating through her body. The concert was in full swing. Still in the bus, safe in the VIP parking area, Hannah closed her eyes. Nate would be seducing the crowd now, his voice filling the amphitheater. She could hear him, but the sound was distorted by distance. The roar of the crowd was hungry, predatory. She could imagine them eating him alive, taking everything that he gave, and endlessly demanding more.

  And there would be nothing left for her.

  She scrolled through the numbers in her phone, selected Gina’s, and hit dial. If she’d ever needed her best friend, it was now.

  The phone rang and rang. Rang again. Hannah crossed her fingers. “Please pick up,” she murmured. “Please, please.”

  “This had better be good!” Gina’s voice was breathless. “I have a totally hot underwear model coming to my door in less than five minutes.”

  Hannah closed her eyes. The phone was in danger of snapping in her grip. “I’ll try to talk fast.”

  “So how’s the tour?” Gina asked. “How’re the concerts? How’s the sex?”

  “Have you seen the Weekly Word?”

  “You know I don’t buy those,” Gina said, laughing. “I just read them in line at the supermarket.”

  “There’s a picture of me and Nate in it.”

  There was silence for a long beat. “You don’t sound too happy about that.”

  She hadn’t meant for the sob to come out. Once it did, the tears overwhelmed her, burning down her cheeks.

  “Don’t go away,” Gina said. “I’ll call you right back.”

  There wasn’t a single box of tissues on the bus. Hannah finally settled on a roll of toilet paper, blowing her nose and trying to fight the tears. They wouldn’t stop. Her chest was still hitching when the phone rang.

  “I got rid of Sven. Talk to me,” Gina instructed.

  “It’s awful,” Hannah said. She related the episode with the paparazzo in Lorelei. The fans in line at the CD signing. “I’d almost forgotten about it. It was over a week ago.”

  “How bad can the picture be? You’re gorgeous.”

  “My mouth is wide open, and Nate is sticking a fork in it. I look totally awful. That’s not the worse part.” As quickly as she could, trying to maintain what little composure she had left, Hannah read her the article.

  “That’s harsh,” Gina said softly. “But, sweetie, if you’re going to date a rock star, you’re going to have to toughen up. You can’t let those rags get to you. You know the kind of spin they give stories just to sell the papers.”

  “I know,” Hannah said. “Of all people, of course I know. But Gina, how am I going to do my job when just by being with him, I’m sabotaging his career?”

  “I think you’re putting more weight on this than it deserves,” Gina said.

  “No, I’m not. His career is at a vulnerable point right now, and this does nothing to help it. I can’t be objective about what he has to do to get back on top if I have such an emotional response to every little thing that’s printed. I can’t do my job and be Nate’s girlfriend.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Hannah rushed to fill it.

  “It was only supposed to be one night. Just one night to fulfill a stupid vow I’d made to myself. I can’t believe how stupid I was to sleep with a client. And then I kept sleeping with him. And going out in public with him. On dates. What was I thinking? I am such an idiot.”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous,” Gina said. “You’re not an idiot. There was no way you could have st
epped away from a relationship with him after that first night. I saw the two of you together the next day, remember? There was no way Nate was going to let you go.”

  “I shouldn’t have taken the job,” Hannah said. She barely heard what Gina was telling her, trapped in her own misery and guilt. “I can’t do the job properly if I’m this close to him.”

  “Well, you can’t quit,” Gina told her. “You signed a contract with them. You’re in this for the long haul, so you might as well get used to it. Don’t think negatively—think proactively. How do you turn this around?”

  She knew Gina had just manipulated her into using the problem-solving-obsessed part of her brain, and she loved her for it.

  “It’s not too late to get this under control,” Hannah said. She sat up straighter in the chair. “If they want to see him with models and stars, then that’s what he needs to do. It’s all about the image. See and be seen, and who you’re seen with. I’m just his publicist. I don’t have any star quality, but if Nate’s seen with someone totally glamorous and popular, it will do wonders for his ratings. I promised to get him back on top.”

  “Are you listening to yourself?” Gina asked. “Girl, there is no way Nate is going to want to go out with some other woman when he has you.”

  “Of course he will,” Hannah said. She was getting excited now, the rest of her emotions shutting down. She pushed them away, far away. If she could keep focused only on Nate the client, and not Nate the lover, she could do this. “He wants to be successful. He wants the positive publicity that will put him back on top.”

  The picture lying face up on the leather next to her gave her every reason to make this decision. “I’m going to do my job and stop letting my personal life interfere. We’ll all be much happier.” Hannah blew out a long breath. “Thanks, Gina. For listening.”

  Before Gina could interrupt, could try to change her mind, Hannah hung up.

  Things would be okay.

  Even if she had to lose Nate.

  Even if she had to lose the man she loved.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The bus rumbled down the highway. The engines were muted, their sound partially dampened by the light soundproofing on the walls of the small bedroom he and Hannah shared. The soundproofing needed to be redone, though. Every so often, he could hear the sounds of the band up front laughing at something on the DVD player. The occasional squeal of the groupie that Kenny had picked up after the concert.