Heart of Rock

by Karyn Gerrard

  She heard one of the women say, "Did you invite another woman to join us?"

  She glanced back to see Byrne scramble to his feet. Lord God, he was naked and fully aroused. Wow, he could strap his dick to his leg. He told the women to leave in not very friendly terms. They gathered their clothes, grumbled, and got back in the boat and headed farther down the shore. She looked away and kept running.

  "Carly!"

  Escaping the scene was difficult. Her high-heeled boots were sinking in the sand and slowing her progress. She could hear him chasing after her. Byrne caught her and brought them both down to their knees in the wet sand as the tide swirled about them. Carly struggled at first and then, without thinking, she lifted her hand to touch the back of his head. He was behind her, and she was wedged in between his muscular thighs and his huge erection. Byrne's hand cupped her breast, and his cock grew harder and larger at her back. He nuzzled her neck, and his tongue swirled her ear lobe.

  "Carly," he whispered."I didn't drink anything,"

  Like that would make everything all right. She didn't smell any booze on his breath, just hot, spicy, aroused male. He kissed her neck again, turned her head slightly, and then nibbled along her chin. Oh, God, she was turned on. His naked skin had a life force of its own. The heat he radiated. The sizzle of desire made her dizzy like she'd had those drinks herself. Byrne moved his hips in the sand and rocked her back against him. All she had to do was lift her short skirt… What the hell was she thinking?

  * * * *

  Brogan was naked, hard as stone, and he didn't care. He moved in front of her. He was still on his knees, as was she. His hand gently caressed Carly's face and her glorious hair.

  "Beautiful—" He meant what he said, really meant it. Not the fake verbiage he had been spouting for ages to nameless women. He loved her freckles. Didn't even know she had freckles until the night he saw her with all the makeup off. He loved the way her full mouth curved in annoyance at him and the way her eyes flashed all manner of emotions even though she struggled to hide them. She was magnificent. He lowered his head. Just a taste.

  The kiss was terrifyingly tender, slow, and languid. He did not force himself on her, just savored. Carly Montgomery tasted as no other woman before in his life. This was a revelation. Not even Tarrah, Abbie… none of them. Ever. She opened her mouth tentatively, and he slowly licked every corner of her sensual lushness. A small moan escaped her lips.

  Carly pushed him to the sand, her hand firm on his bare thigh. She glanced down at his erect cock and then up to his face. They both stared at each other for a long time, their gazes fused with untold passion and want. He let her take the aggressive role. Brogan waited. Her hand was like a branding iron on his skin. She started a slow circular motion on his hip. He groaned. Take my cock in your hand, your mouth, your pussy, anywhere, I don't care. He could see the desire smoldering in her gaze. Jaysus, he wanted her. Just as he leaned upward to kiss her, she pulled back.

  * * * *

  Carly stood shakily to her feet and turned away from Byrne. She wanted him like a kid wants her favorite toy on Christmas morning. She couldn't do this. She was seconds away from lifting her skirt and impaling herself on his huge cock. Sure, people had on-the-road flings… hell, she'd had one or two over the years. They meant nothing. When she gazed into those whiskey-and-grass-colored eyes of his, she knew it would mean everything. He was hopeless. No, he hadn't drunk anything, but he'd let those women have their way with him. He was a whore, and she couldn't figure out why.

  She heard him say, "Carly?" in a voice so raw, so emotional she almost ran back to him. But she didn't, she kept walking.

  Newark, New Jersey

  Nevan cooled his heels in Brogan's private suite. The concert was tomorrow night. He had called Carly, and she'd reserved him the room across the hall from Brogan. She wouldn't tell him much about his brother, which had him guessing a lot had happened. She said, "Ask your brother." The girlfriend dropped him, Reese had told him as much. What else had happened since Philadelphia, he wasn't sure he even wanted to know.

  He crossed his arms and leaned back into the plush sofa. Brogan was a funny bloke, like he was one to talk. He certainly was the prettiest of all the brothers, which attracted the ladies. But Nevan had the feeling Brogan was broken inside and had been for a long time.

  He wouldn't ask him any questions about whatever he carried inside him. Nevan had enough of his own secrets. Pity was the reason he'd decided to make the trip to Newark. Pity for Brogan, the rich rock star. Since Reese had washed his hands of him, and deservedly so, he couldn't abandon his older brother as well. He had to see for himself how Brogan was faring.

  * * * *

  Brogan walked into the suite. There was Nevan lounging on the couch. He had mixed feelings about having anyone from the family here. He was even more vulnerable, if it were possible. Growing up in Dublin, the Byrnes didn't have much. His father, Seamus, was a laborer, who barely kept the wolf from the door. In a family of seven children there wasn't much privacy either. The five boys were in one room and the two girls in another. Stacked like bleedin' cord wood. They had hand-me-down clothes, and it was a struggle to keep food on the table. With his first big royalty check, Brogan bought his parents a good-sized home on Marrowbone Lane. He gave all his siblings money. He brought Nevan and Reese over to the States and gave them high-paying jobs as his assistants. Times were tough in Ireland, so he was glad to help. Say what you will, he loved his family.

  Brogan's thoughts drifted back to his parents. To this day they still loved each other deeply and made sure their home was alive in laughter and affection, then and now. So what was wrong with him or Nevan, for that matter? Neither of them had any lasting, meaningful relationship like their parents.

  Nevan, who was eighteen months younger, never let anyone get close. He still didn't. Maybe Brogan should take a page from his book, but really who had he let close lately? Not even Abbie had understood him. He kept a part of himself removed from her and from everyone. The closest he'd come to opening his heart was when he kissed Carly on the beach. He thought about the devastating kiss constantly and thought about her. She acted as if the whole incident didn't happen. The women on the beach—what possessed him? He knew. The demon. He took a seat opposite Nevan.

  "So, my brother, how's it been going? Able to keep sober?" Nevan asked pointedly.

  "Barely. I'm on some prescriptions to help deal with it."

  He wasn't telling anyone about the VD. He was shocked he'd told Carly. Abbie was ashamed, so she wouldn't tell. Frankly, he was a little ashamed himself. He certainly did not want to hear "I told you so, brother" from Nevan. Not today. Did anything rattle Nevan? Well, one thing he would tell him about was his brush with death. He wanted to talk to someone about it even though he had tried to put it out of his mind.

  "I almost died in New York." He said the words in a firm strong voice. "Wasn't my intent, I just… Abbie broke up with me and I didn't take it well. I drank, swallowed down some pills, and almost choked to death on my own vomit. Carly saved me with CPR."

  Nevan kept silent, but his steady, assessing gaze did not waver from Brogan.

  "You think me a stupid wanker, don't you, Nevan? You always did. I can see the disdain in your eyes."

  Nevan shrugged. "No more a wanker than the rest of us. But lately, aye. Do you blame the lass for giving you the kick? I don't. And Reese? You did some damage there. I'm not sure he will forgive you anytime soon."

  Reese. God knows what he said in Philly. It had to be bad. Reese could be slow to anger, but once he was riled it would take the devil's own shoulder to shift him. "I'm a feckin' mess."

  "Aye, my brother, you are. And the mess is not of a recent event, I'll wager. Whatever is smashed inside you manifests itself with this destructive behavior. I thought your music would be a productive outlet for whatever damage, but it seems to have made things worse."

  Before Brogan could answer there was a sharp rap on the door. Carly entered, tee
tering precariously on red and orange platform shoes through the long shag carpet. Brogan's face lit up like the boardwalk in Blackpool at her appearance. The flush spread to his entire body.

  "Nevan Byrne, you made it. Do you like your room? Only the best for the brother." She smiled warmly.

  She sat down next to Nevan on the sofa. "You must join us for dinner tonight, Nevan, I hope you like steak. Let me know your preferences, food- and drink-wise, and I'll see it done."

  "You make a bloke feel welcome, Carly. Thank you."

  "I'm looking forward to some conversation. Your brother isn't much of a talker," Carly teased, glancing briefly at Brogan.

  "Well, lass, I'm not much better, but for you I will try."

  "Tell me, are there more brothers besides you two and the younger one—what was his name—Reese?"

  "Aye, there's Brogan, myself, Reese, and two in their late teens, Barry and Shane," Nevan replied.

  "Wow. You have sisters too? You have a big family. I always wished I had siblings," Carly replied, her tone friendly.

  Brogan watched the conversation and byplay between Carly and Nevan and his heart clenched in his chest. She hardly glanced his way. She didn't speak to him. He might as well not even be in the bleedin' room. Since the night on the beach she only spoke to him when needed, or she sent Gio with her orders. He let her walk away from him. He should have gone after Carly on the beach, but he was stunned by the feel of her lips and her body on top of his. Brogan nearly came right there when she pushed him down on his back. He ached for something and someone he had never ached for before in his life. Not even Tarrah. He knew nothing, nothing at all. And Abbie? He loved her in his way, but she didn't move him like this. How quickly he seemed to have gotten over her. Not much substance there at all. Not much substance in himself, truth be told.

  Carly stood. "I'll check on dinner. Also don't forget the sound check is at eight, Byrne. Bring Nevan with you." She headed for the door without a backward glance at him. His eyes scanned those sexy platforms all the way up those gorgeous legs to the tight denim skirt. Shite, he was getting hard. He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. The door closed softly behind Carly.

  "All right, what in the feck is going on, Brogan? You could cut the bleedin' tension, sexual and otherwise, in here with a knife. You got over Abbie quick enough."

  Brogan glanced at his brother. "Aye, I guess I did. Makes me a prat, I know. I can't help myself. You're right, I'm smashed, a mess, and I don't know how to fix it." He paused, trying to steady his voice. "Can you stay for a few days, Nevan, please?"

  Nevan remained quiet for a few moments. "Aye. Until you leave for Canada. I'll stay, my brother."

  Chapter Six

  Toronto International Airport Toronto, Ontario, Canada

  Carly couldn't believe this. The customs officials had their luggage torn apart and the guitars out of their cases. They were fondling her panties, for God's sake! Gio seemed amused, but she wasn't. God, it was only Canada; why all the fuss? Well, since Hendrix was caught with drugs back in 1970 they were cracking down on anyone who even had a whiff of rock star about them, or so Carly assumed. Byrne looked the part in his trademark leather pants, boots, black silk shirt unbuttoned to his waist, and leather vest. Carly frowned. Hendrix again. The parallels were spooky. Be damned if Byrne would die in some anonymous hotel room. She would make it her mission to keep him safe, from himself most of all.

  "Whose luggage is this, Mr Byrne?" the officer called out.

  "Mine."

  The officer reached in between the lining and pulled out a small plastic bag. Byrne groaned aloud.

  "This appears to be cannabis, around fourteen grams, which is about an ounce. You are aware this is an illegal substance, Mr Byrne?"

  "Yes."

  Carly snarled. "Gio, I thought you checked his luggage!"

  "I did! I wasn't aware I had to cut the damned lining and check there!"

  Carly's stomach did cartwheels. They were in deep shit. Again, the headlines rolled through her head. Nigel would be livid as he hated scandal and drama.

  The customs officer approached the trio. "If you'll take a seat, I'll call the police. You've broken a federal law, and it has to be reported. We will be here some time, as we will be going through everything again, and we may insist on a strip search."

  Carly glanced at Gio and Byrne and then stared at the ceiling. Could they be humiliated any further? Trying to keep her voice steady, she replied. "Of course, no problem."

  All three moved to the wooden seats against the wall. One customs officer remained behind to watch them while the other went in the next room to call the local city police.

  "Carly, I swear I didn't know it was there. I'm assuming the grass is from a tour months ago."

  "Byrne, do you know what this means? Headlines and bad publicity. We didn't need this. Jesus, you could be in real trouble here! You are lucky this isn't some third world toilet. As it is there might be prison time," she whispered furiously. "You have the world by the balls and you are ruining everything. You and your damned whores and drugs." Carly exhaled and then continued. "What will Nigel say? He will blame me, and he'll be right. I should've been more vigilant. He'll replace me."

  "It won't come to that, I promise," he replied, his voice sounding contrite. "No one is getting fired. Or replaced."

  Carly took a deep breath, stood, and approached the customs officer. "Look, I don't know what the laws are here in Canada for cannabis possession. Is it as bad as the States?"

  The man shook his head. He motioned toward Byrne. "He will be charged. The Toronto police are on their way. First offense could be a fine or up to six months in jail, but it's mostly fines. Get a lawyer. There is a discharge option."

  "Is there any way to avoid any publicity on this?" Her voice sounded desperate.

  "Probably not. Sorry. You know how it is. As soon as they take him in the word will get out."

  Carly exhaled a shaky breath, and with it went her annoyance. Byrne stood and walked to her. The look on his face was tender and concerned. Her legs were threatening to give out. This damned man. He touched her arms, and an electric current sizzled, snapped, and covered her whole body.

  "It will be all right, Carly. I'm so sorry this happened. I swear, I didn't know. I wouldn't do anything to upset you."

  Brogan Byrne did upset her on so many levels and in so many ways. She curled her fists. Carly wanted nothing more than to roam her hands all over his damned gladiator chest and through the ebony and ivory silky hair on his head. She wanted to hold him close and protect him, but she also wanted to kick his stupid, careless ass. Her eyes roamed over the glorious torso on display.

  Oh, daammmmnnnnn—

  * * * *

  Brogan released her arms and they returned to their seats. He honestly didn't know how the dope got in there. When did he last use that set of luggage? He had more than one. He racked his brain. Fourteen months ago on the southern tour, he got the weed in Kentucky. He remembered. Brogan really didn't know it was there. If he did, he would have smoked it long ago.

  He could feel the irritation rolling off Carly like waves cresting at the beach. The emotion was beyond anger. He could sense her irritation. He also sensed something else. It was like she cared. Surely, he was mistaken. What could he say? She was right. He fecked up royally. He didn't like her being angry at him or disappointed. For her, he tried to be a better man, and he failed miserably.

  Brogan's heart clenched. He didn't want her replaced. He had grown accustomed to her face, her voice, and her commanding presence. He liked the frank way in which she spoke to him and her no-nonsense attitude. Never mind those lush curves, sexy freckles, and her long, glorious legs. He closed his eyes and thought of the kiss on the beach again as he had been for the last ten days. He wanted to do more than kiss. Back in the VIP lounge at the Philly airport, he had thought he would fuck her for sport, a conquest. It no longer appealed. When Brogan's unused heart compressed in his chest, he knew. He was fallin
g for her.

  * * * *

  Hotel Marquis De Montcalm

  Downtown Montreal, Quebec, Canada

  After being printed and charged in Toronto, Brogan's concert went off without a hitch. Of course it made the papers. There was a shot of him in cuffs being led into the police station. He had to call Nevan to tell him the details and to get him to explain to the rest of the family back home in Dublin. Explain what? That he made a fool of himself—again? He knew he would have to call his parents soon. Somehow talking to them about his mishaps would make it all too real. He would be the cover story for next week's Rock Reports magazine. Bloody great.

  Brogan sat in his private suite. He glanced at the finger foods on the nearby table. The snacks didn't appeal. He wanted a drink or three. The concert at the Montreal Forum was tomorrow night. He would give credit to the Canadians fans. They didn't care about his arrest for drug possession. The story made more of a sensational splash in the States than it did here. Typical. When this tour was finished, maybe he should head back to Dublin for a while. He might have to if US Customs Service made a stink about his arrest. They could refuse him re-entry across the border. He wasn't a citizen. The American government could revoke his work visa. What a muck-shite mess.

  * * * *

  Carly stepped into the suite. She drew a sharp breath. She had been avoiding Byrne as much as she could since the arrest. The phone call to Nigel had not been pleasant. He blamed her as she knew he would. Her job hung in the balance, though Nigel didn't come right out and say so. The next day he called back and in a calmer tone stated he was giving her another chance. Did Byrne have anything to do with Nigel's change in mood?

  Her gaze scanned over his stunning body. His tie-dyed undershirt hugged every muscled plane of his chest. She should walk away and continue to avoid him, but the forlorn look on his face drew her to him. The lost little boy thing he had going appealed.

  Carly sat down on the leather sofa next to him. "You talked to Nigel, didn't you? On my behalf."