BANGED: Rock Stars, Bad Boys & Dirty Deeds

by Lexxie Couper

  After Darko disconnected, he sat back in his chair and massaged his aching temples. Sergeant Glenn’s story made no sense. How could there be two men of a similar appearance with the same tattoo? Was he to believe that a gang was roaming the island and bumping one another off? Not bloody likely, especially now that the security team was in residence.

  He stretched his neck from side to side to ease the tension. Once he updated Jackson and the staff, he’d spend the evening with Muireann. After today’s discovery, he wanted her and James-David off the island. Even if the policemen had failed to notice a sleeping bag in the lighthouse, he wasn’t taking any risks.

  When a knock sounded on the door, he yelled, “Come in.”

  Alan pranced in, his eyes wide. “Is it true?”

  He exhaled a sigh. “You’ve been talking to Muireann.”

  “Well, yes. She was in such a state of distress when she came in. Jean-Baptiste and I had to get the whole story out of her. Is there a squatter on the island?”

  Darko rubbed his jaw. “No. I’ve just been speaking to Sergeant Glenn. A body washed up on the shore. Looks like the guy in the tub.”

  “Someone threw him into the sea after we left?”

  “He had salt water on his lungs. The only logical explanation is that he was still alive when we left. We must have made a mistake.”

  “Oh, no,” Alan protested. “The man in the tub was dead. I’m sure of it.”

  “Glenn is coming to the island tomorrow. He wants to show us a photograph of the body.”

  Alan’s hand flew to his mouth. “How horrid! And to think I came down here to impart good news.”

  “I could do with a bit of good news,” Darko said with a laugh. “Fire away.”

  “Jean-Baptiste is cooking up a storm.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite.”

  Alan rolled his eyes. “Well, find one. It’s meant to be a romantic meal for you and Muireann. We’ll look after James-David and you two can spend a lovely evening together.”

  “By ‘we’ you mean you and Jean-Baptiste?” Darko quirked an eyebrow. A less likely pair of babysitters he couldn’t imagine.

  “Oh, we’ll be fine. And if we run into problems, Peters will give us a hand. He’s got a passel of nieces and nephews, apparently.”

  Darko cocked his head to the side and eyed his friend. “Why are you so keen to set me up with Muireann?”

  “Despite her unfortunate penchant for pink, you two are perfect together.”

  “Steady on,” Darko said with a laugh. “We barely know each other.”

  Alan rolled his heavily made-up eyes. “We’ve been friends long enough for me to have a pretty good idea what you’re thinking. You really like Muireann. More than like. And if you want to be a regular fixture in James-David’s life, seducing his mother is an excellent start.”

  “It’s not just sex, Al.” And it wasn’t. He’d had plenty of good sex in his life, but the connection he felt with Muireann was unique.

  “And you’re James-David’s father.” Alan wagged a finger. “I know you, Darko. If he’s your son, you won’t want to be a part-time dad. Not with your history.”

  He flexed his shoulders. His friend was right, of course. “I can’t barrel into a relationship with a woman I barely know, especially if she’s my son’s mother.”

  Alan snorted with laughter. “The buttons of your shirt are done up wrong and Muireann’s pullover is inside out. You did more in the lighthouse than discover evidence of an uninvited guest.”

  “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  “Just as well you’re no gentleman. Seriously, Darko. Have dinner with her. Romance her. In the five days they’ve been on the island, you’ve blossomed. You’re almost back to your old self.”

  It was true. Since Muireann’s revelation, a sense of hope had permeated his days, energized his activities. And the fact he’d had sex after months of celibacy was a definite sign he was getting better.

  “All right. You look after James-David while I wine and dine his mother. But before we do any of that, I need to get this into my safe—” he slipped the pistol from his pocket, “—and update the security team.”

  Alan recoiled at the sight of the weapon. “Thank goodness I’m escaping this house of horrors.”

  Darko gave a crack of laughter. “Nonsense. You’ll dine out on this story for months.”

  His friend grinned. “You bet I will.”

  FOURTEEN

  An hour later, Darko had secured the pistol in the safe under his bed, briefed the security team, and had a quick shower. He was now in the dining room, waiting for Muireann to appear. Jean-Baptiste had arranged an array of food on the table, kept warm in a chafing dish.

  Darko rubbed the back of his neck. Was he crazy to agree to a romantic evening with her? Between grief, depression, and juggling meds until his doctors found the right combo, sex hadn’t been high on his list of priorities over the past couple of years, let alone a relationship.

  Yet the moment he’d clapped eyes on Muireann in her muddy pink raincoat, her cheeks flushed with anger, he’d wanted her. Oddly enough, he hadn’t wanted anyone this badly since their hot two-night stand in Queensland.

  He opened the drinks cabinet and extracted two red wine glasses. He was just pouring when Muireann came downstairs. She paused on the bottom step, and their eyes met.

  Hot damn. A jolt of lust set his blood humming. She’d changed into a soft pink pullover and let her copper hair hang loose around her shoulders. Looking at her from this angle, an X-rated memory of the last time he’d seen her naked flashed through his mind.

  He licked his suddenly parched lips. “Merlot okay?”

  “Perfect.” She strode across the open plan lobby and took the three steps that led down to the dining room.

  Bran was stretched out in front of the roaring fire, snoozing peacefully. He half opened one eye and perked up when he saw Muireann.

  “Hey, there, gorgeous.” She stroked the dog’s fur and was rewarded with a generous lick.

  “Down, boy.” Was he seriously jealous of his dog? Bran treated him to a condescending one-eyed stare. He went over to the fireplace and handed her a glass. “Looks like you’ve made a conquest of both dog and master.”

  “Thanks, Darko. Sláinte.”

  Their fingers brushed briefly, sending a little electric trigger down his arm. His eyes met hers and held her gaze for longer this time before lingering on her rose-colored lips. “That’s the first time you’ve called me Darko.”

  “I feel silly calling you Damian when no one else does.”

  “I like having someone call me by my real name. Now that my mother’s dead, no one does. Even Alan uses Darko, because he’s spent so long hanging around the band.”

  “Don’t you like your stage name?” she asked in a curious tone.

  “Not really. I don’t hate it, but it’s just a silly name my manager came up with to make me sound cooler.”

  She eyed him up and down, and an impish smile sprang to her lips. “I think you’re plenty cool. But if you want to get cooler, I’m happy to help you remove a few layers.”

  “Muireann…you really sure you want to start something with me?”

  “I’ve rarely been so sure of anything in my whole life. I’m done being staid and sensible and the person people expect me to be, always having wants and desires I was afraid to voice. Having sex with you was one of the best experiences of my life. I was able to let go and really be myself.”

  A line appeared between his brows. “I don’t recall us doing anything too crazy in Australia. A bit of bondage, and sex on the beach.”

  “Trust me, in my world, that was risqué.”

  He smiled over the rim of his glass. “If you think that was risqué, you’ve a lot to learn.”

  “So teach me.”

  His trousers grew tight at the very thought. “I’d enjoy that,” he replied in a hoarse tone, admiring her soft curves. “Did James-Dav
id get off to sleep?”

  “He’s out cold,” she said and took a delicate sip of wine. “I hope he behaves for his babysitters.”

  “I’m sure he will. The sea air will make him sleep.”

  She ran a finger around the rim of her glass, a movement that was both deliberate and suggestive and making him hard as fuck. “More like all the running after Bran. For a dog that isn’t used to kids, he’s very patient with James-David.”

  “Bran is easy-going,” Darko said, and gestured for her to take a seat at the table.

  When he served the fish dish, Muireann took a delicate bite. “Monkfish,” she moaned. “My favorite.”

  “Jean-Baptiste has surpassed himself.”

  “James-David would devour this meal. He’s inherited my love of seafood.”

  “How did you come up with his name?”

  That made her laugh. “Not a fan?”

  “It’s…” he paused, not wishing to insult her. “A bit of a mouthful.”

  “It was a case of my mother insisting I call the baby David and me wanting James. In my hormonal state, I agreed to a double name. When he’s older, he can decide which he prefers.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched. “It occurs to me that you know a lot more about me than I do about you. What’s your story?”

  “Apart from the drama of being jilted at the altar and my father going bankrupt?” She smiled. “Most people would describe me as the pampered only child of wealthy parents.”

  “How would you describe yourself?”

  “As a daughter who feels betrayed and embarrassed by her father’s willingness to rip off his family and closest friends. As a mother devoted to her son. As a creative professional who yearns to build back up her business and make it on her own.”

  “That’s a pretty comprehensive description.”

  “What about you? Why did you isolate yourself on Inish Glas?”

  He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “After Col and my mother died, I became depressed. I went through a dark period as a teenager, but I’d been fine all through my adulthood. Feeling so low came as a shock. I owe my recovery to Alan. Right in the middle of our tour, he told my manager to go fuck himself and checked me into a clinic. Once I got out, I wanted to retreat from the world for a while, avoid the press. I didn’t plan to stay on Inish Glas this long.”

  “You needed the time away from the spotlight to recover.” She toyed with the stem of her wine glass. “In a week of shocks and revelations, there’s something else you should know.”

  Darko chuckled. “At this stage, nothing could surprise me.”

  “There is no delicate way to put this, so I’ll just blurt it out. Your mother helped my father forge my grandmother’s will.”

  He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “You’re Bernard Byrne’s daughter?”

  A frown line appeared between her brows. “You knew about it?”

  “My mother told me shortly before she died. While I don’t condone her actions, she did it for me.”

  “But why? What was so important that she risked a jail sentence?”

  He drew in a breath, the dark memories weighing heavily. “I had cancer.”

  Her hand flew to her throat. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

  “No need for you to be sorry. At the time your grandmother moved into the nursing home where Mum worked, we’d just found out my cancer was back. The prognosis didn’t look rosy.”

  She bit her lip and clasped his hand. “Go on. Tell me the whole of it.”

  “Mum had heard of a clinical trial in a Los Angeles hospital and she was determined to send me there. The money your father paid her to help him doctor the will paid my medical bills.”

  “What a horrible experience.”

  He shrugged and trailed a fingertip across her wrist. “Yeah, but I was lucky. I lived.”

  The pain of the memories had dulled over the years, replaced by the heady sensation of relief combined with survivor’s guilt. A few of the children he’d met in hospital hadn’t been so fortunate.

  Yet another reason to be guilty about his depression and anxiety attacks. He had every reason in the world to be happy: money, fame, and health. Then why had he felt empty inside? And why did Muireann and James-David make him feel alive?

  “Do you want to, uh…” Darko searched the room for a safe topic of conversation. Anything that didn’t involve illness. “How about—” his gaze settled on a shelf in the living room, “—a board game?”

  Bollocks. He was totally losing the plot if he thought suggesting a board game was a winning opening gambit with a woman he was interested in getting to know better—a lot better. Because while she’d made her interest in having a sexual relationship with him clear, he wanted more than that. Fate had thrown them together in Australia, and chance had once again reunited them in Ireland. He longed to give his son a stable home environment and wanted to be more than a weekend parent. One surefire way to ensure he held a prominent role in his son’s life was to win over the boy’s mother. And frankly, romancing Muireann would be no hardship.

  To his astonishment, a wide smile split her face. “I thought you’d never ask. I’ve been eyeing your board game collection since I arrived.”

  “You’re a fan?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “When I split up with my ex, I lost the only person I knew who liked tabletop games. My friends hear the term ‘board game’ and think of ‘Clue’ or ‘Scrabble.’ I prefer German-style games.”

  “In that case, take your pick. What are you in the mood for?”

  “One that involves a mix of strategy and luck.” She put down her wine glass and strolled over to the shelves on which he kept his game collection. A hint of her flowery perfume lingered in the air when she passed, kicking his already active libido into overdrive. He admired her elegant neck as she strained for a better view. Muireann wasn’t tall, but her curves drew the eye and he yearned to run his palms over them.

  He swallowed hard and walked over to join her. “I like The Settlers of Catan, but it needs a minimum of three players. How about Carcassonne?”

  She laughed and pointed to the box. “With expansions or without?”

  “How long do you want this game to last, Ms. Byrne?”

  Her dirty laugh skittered over his skin, teasing and caressing his senses. “As long as it takes for me to win.”

  FIFTEEN

  It took Muireann three rounds to beat Damian at Carcassonne. “I’m out of practice.”

  He flashed her a wolfish grin and his gaze dropped to her breasts. “I didn’t notice.”

  “You have sex on the brain,” she said, laughing.

  “Sex with you.” He took her hands in his and lowered his voice to a seductive growl. “Want to go upstairs, Ms. Byrne?”

  Her pulse quickened. “Yes. I’d like that very much.”

  After peeking in at a snoozing James-David, Muireann followed Damian up to the top floor of the house, where the master bedroom was located.

  It was magnificent. A king-sized bed was placed near one of the glass walls, providing a stunning view over the island. Through a domed glass roof, the stars appeared enormous.

  “If I reached out, I could touch them. How did you achieve that effect?”

  Damian came up behind her and placed a hand on the small of her back. The heat from his palm burned a hole through her blouse. “First, you can see the stars better out here than on the mainland. Less light pollution. And second—” he pushed her toward a panel on the wall, “—the glass has a built-in adjustable telescope.” With a few swipes, he made the stars even larger.

  “What a brilliant idea,” she murmured, acutely aware of her breathless voice and the ache of longing within her.

  “As was spending the evening with you.”

  He dropped a kiss onto her neck. Her pulse skittered and her body ached in all the right places. She wanted this. She wanted him. And she wanted it tonight.

  He drew back and raked her figure from h
ead to toe, lingering on her breasts. “You need to lose your clothes, Ms. Byrne.”

  That made her laugh. “So do you, Mr. Dunne.”

  He trailed a fingertip from her chin to the hammering pulse at the base of her throat, and then meandered to the top button of her blouse. “Let’s start here. One. Button. At. A. Time.” By the fourth button, her bra was visible. He sucked in a breath. “Is that black lace I see?”

  “Yes.” It was the only one of her old bras that still fit her—and only because she’d accidentally bought it in the wrong size during a shopping spree in London three years ago.

  More buttons were unfastened until he reached the last one. With her blouse gaping open, he slipped a hand onto her belly. He circled her navel, slid a finger over her silvery stretch marks.

  “I don’t like them,” she said before she could stop herself. Damn. Why had she said that? So much for embracing her postpartum curves and being proud of the changes motherhood had brought to her body. Remembering the slight, toned figure she’d had before her pregnancy gave her a brief pang of longing for her old life. A longing that was eclipsed the instant she thought of her little son.

  “You might not like your stretch marks,” he murmured, “but I think they’re beautiful.”

  “The correct response was to feign ignorance and pretend you hadn’t noticed them,” she said with a teasing lilt.

  “No way. They’re part of you, and you’re perfect.”

  She opened her mouth to argue the point, but he silenced her with a kiss.

  When they broke apart, he whispered, “Want to lose more clothes?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She shivered in anticipation when he hooked his thumbs into the waist of her trousers.

  “Dare I hope the bra comes with matching knickers?” he murmured into her ear, making her shiver.

  “Actually…I went commando.”

  He jerked back in surprise, then his face split into a wide grin. “Is that so? There’s a wild child in you after all.”

  “I doubt it. The only time I was ever wild was—” she broke off, a flashback of them having sex on the beach jerking her back to reality, “—I just couldn’t find a pair of knickers that didn’t show through the trousers.” None that still fit, at any rate.