Reckless Beat Box Set #2

by Eden Summers

  Happy? Was she kidding? He was a mess, barely able to break a smile, let alone persuade anyone he was enjoying himself. “Leah, this—”

  “I’m going to make sure the driver is ready.” She began backtracking, her pantsuit tailored to cling to every curve of her body. “Club security expected you ten minutes ago.”

  His world darkened, the final glimmer of light being snuffed. She kept fleeing from him. Over and over. The default setting morphing from annoying to unignorable. “Wait.”

  She paused, a questioning brow rising.

  He begged her with his eyes, begged for her friendship and forgiveness, begged for one glimmer of what they once had, or what could still be. “I think I need to ditch the club.”

  His sense of failure intensified. He couldn’t handle a crowd right now. Not the people or the loud music. What he wanted was to tell her how this situation was tearing him apart. To explain to his best friend how much he loathed being this man—the one the world was growing to hate. And he needed, more than anything, for her to listen and say, “I know,” because she did. She did know. She knew everything about him, and seeing her act like this situation was just another day and just another task was brutal.

  “What?” Felicity dropped his hand and moved in front of him. “You don’t want to go out?”

  He kept his focus on Leah as she approached. “I don’t think I can fake it in front of the cameras tonight.”

  “But you’ve been doing a great job.” Leah slayed him with her curiosity. “I thought you were starting to enjoy this.”

  Enjoy? She was definitely kidding. “I’m tired. I’m in a hell of a mood. And I don’t have the energy to play happy families.”

  “Then don’t.” She hiked a thumb over her shoulder toward open glass doors. “Go to the bar and keep it real. Talk. Drink. Be yourself.”

  “What about the photo op?” Felicity asked.

  “I’ll speak to the limo driver and tell him his services are no longer needed. I’m sure the crowd will ask what’s going on while I’m out there. I can let them know you’ve decided to have a quiet night at the bar instead.” Leah gave a halfhearted smile. “They’ll follow. They always do. And the bar windows aren’t tinted, so if you pick a seat that isn’t entirely secluded you’ll get the publicity.”

  Felicity turned to him, her gaze earnest. “Ryan?”

  He could see the worry in her eyes. The concern for her career. She couldn’t lose momentum now Slicker was finally gaining attention. They both needed to keep this story moving.

  “I can handle something quiet.”

  Leah nodded and headed for the entrance without another word. He watched her leave, watched every single step until she was outside working her magic on the shouting crowd.

  “Come on.” Felicity grabbed his hand. “This’ll be painless after you’ve got a few drinks under your belt.”

  It had taken two, but that was merely to dull the edge of his self-loathing as photographers snapped pictures of them through the windows of the bar. Another two drinks in quick succession had him in a state of painless lethargy.

  “I can’t handle this.”

  “Huh?” He glanced up from his Scotch and didn’t like her defeated expression. “What can’t you handle?”

  “This.” She waved a hand between them. “The knife’s edge. The anticipation. I think we need to expedite the journey a little.”

  “Expedite?” He took a sip of his drink. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “We’re on a tight schedule. We don’t have long to build this career-saving hype that’s supposed to make Slicker a worldwide sensation.”

  He narrowed his gaze, scrutinizing her. “From someone who couldn’t withhold a flinch whenever I stepped within two feet, you’ve sure changed your tune.”

  “I’ve been trying to focus on what matters. Before, I thought I was hurting people unnecessarily. I’ve since realized the publicity is working, so they’ll have to deal with it. We’re finally gaining traction on our music.”

  Again, it didn’t sound like her. Not when she’d been messaging him last night about her anxiety. “Who have you been talking to?”

  “No one.” She broke eye contact and stared toward the bar. “The sooner we get this over with, the better, right?”

  “Was it Scott? Did he tell you we need to move this along?”

  She raised her wine glass, took a slow sip, still not meeting his gaze.

  “It is, isn’t it? He called you and told you to speed things up.”

  “He has a point. Nobody cares if we’re holding hands or chatting. They want the juicy stuff. They want headlines and scandal.” Her eyes were distraught as she turned to face him and gulped the remainder of her wine. When she raised to her feet his chest concaved, the pain tightening on her approach. “Let’s give them what they want.”

  “This isn’t you, Felicity.” He held his breath, his muscles tense while she straddled his lap. All he could think of was Leah, how he was betraying his feelings for her, how her consciousness was nudging the back of his neck.

  “No, it’s the bottle of wine.” Her grin was weak. “But once this is over, I’ll be able to sleep at night.”

  He wasn’t so certain. He’d be happy to put it off for as long as possible. Hell, he’d be happy to fake the whole kissing thing and hope photographers took advantage of deceptive angles and bad lighting.

  “It’ll also get the hurt over and done with.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, the delicate touch harming more than it helped.

  “The hurt?” He grazed his thumb over her cheek, not because he needed to keep up the act, but to sooth the pain emanating from her.

  “People I care about.” She focused on his lips, his hair, his beard. “They don’t agree with what I’m doing. The sooner they realize this is a strategy, nothing personal, the better.”

  “Are you sure?” He heard the click of a cell camera, then another and another. People inside the bar were taking photos, lapping up his demise and capturing it for eternity.

  “Are you?” she countered, meeting his gaze.

  “I don’t think I have a choice. I can’t let my friends down.”

  “And I have no choice either.” She leaned in closer, the scent of sugary sweet breath sinking into his lungs. “Let’s just do this.”

  She repositioned herself, her crotch brushing his cock. He stiffened, waiting for a spark, a reaction from places down south… Nothing. His dick was in hibernation. Out cold. But it wasn’t like everything inside him was dead. He cared for her. Just not in a way that compared to anything he felt for Leah.

  “This doesn’t feel right.” She paused, her lips an inch from his.

  No shit. He chuckled, because what else could he do? “I don’t think it ever will.” He pressed his forehead to hers, not sure if he’d prefer things to stay sterile, or if it was best to move on, at least temporarily, to keep his mind off the massive piles of crap surrounding him.

  “I don’t like hurting people.”

  Me either. “I’m sure this will be painless.”

  She nodded, her hair tickling his cheeks. “OK.”

  “OK?” Shit. He wasn’t prepared for acquiescence. He was still reeling, teetering on the edge of stupidity and obligation.

  “OK,” she whispered.

  The closer she came, the harder his chest pounded, the thicker his blood clogged in his veins. Breathing became a struggle under the drowning thoughts of another woman.

  She was everywhere.

  She was everything.

  “I can’t do this.” He tilted his face, diverting the course of Felicity’s mouth to his cheek. His eyes were shrouded in her hair, her perfume sinking into his lungs. She smelled good—sweet, clean, and familiar. But nothing changed inside him. There was no glimmer of warmth. No lust. No excitement.

  No Leah.

  Hell.

  “Then what do we do?” Felicity’s voice was shaky, the hint of rejection hitting him square in the consci
ence.

  “Stay close.” He cradled the back of her head, letting his fingers slide through her hair as he nuzzled her cheek. Her breasts were against his chest, her crotch right where any hot-blooded man would want it. But he wasn’t hot-blooded. He was cold. Made of ice. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. We both knew this wouldn’t be easy.” She exhaled a breath and pulled back. “Are you still in love with your wife?”

  He could’ve scoffed, or laughed, or set her straight with innumerable words to paint a vivid picture of his loveless marriage. Instead he nodded. Because nodding was easier than admitting the truth.

  “I thought so.” She slid onto the couch beside him, her legs now draped over his. “Do you have kids?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “But I wanted them.” Badly.

  Her eyes were kind, the pity soul deep. “If it’s any consolation, I think the vultures enjoyed the show. Men are smirking like they witnessed a lap dance.”

  “Perception is everything.” He finished the remainder of his scotch and placed a firm hand around her knees while he rested the glass on the table. He couldn’t take much more of this. Months of waiting for the right time and right place had taken its toll. Maybe it was time to start thinking realistically—with his head, instead of the heart that had already steered him wrong once before.

  It wasn’t like Leah was swan-diving for the chance to risk her job to be with him. Sucking face with Felicity and praying a spark would miraculously ignite might be exactly what he needed. He just didn’t need it here, in the open, with assholes taking notes. “Should we leave?”

  “Yeah… But first.” She leaned in, her lips briefly kissing his cheek. “Even though tonight didn’t go to plan, thank you for being the lone gentleman in a sea of assholes. You’re a great guy.”

  Everyone kept telling him that. He was a gentleman. He was kind. He was nice. Yet, for all his so-called awesomeness, he was in his 30s, single, and playing chicken with his reputation. It wasn’t a winning combination from his perspective.

  “I’m sure things will work out for you in the end.” She slid her legs from his lap and pulled out her phone. “Do you know the cab company’s number?”

  “Don’t even think about it.” He gave her an incredulous look. “You’re not catching a cab by yourself at this hour. You can crash in my bed and I’ll take the sofa.”

  “Can’t bring yourself to kiss me, but still expect me in your bed? The man’s got game.” She chuckled and glanced down at her phone. Her face slowly morphed, from happiness to confusion.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her gaze snapped to the empty entrance of the bar. “Umm.” Her focus flew back to her cell screen, her fingers rapidly typing. “I… um…” She glanced back at the door. “Hannah is here.”

  “Hannah?” He frowned through the lack of recognition. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

  “My bass guitarist.”

  He remained clueless until a leggy brunette strode toward them from the entrance of the bar, her form-hugging dress worthy of a New York runway. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her lips dark red and dragging the attention of men and women alike.

  “Great,” Felicity muttered. “She’s drunk.”

  Ryan scrutinized the guitarist, only gaining a faint hint of intoxication from the barely visible wobble in her step. “Don’t worry. You’re supposed to stay wasted on your first tour.” Reckless had. He’d partied hard and drank even harder. At least until Julie found out and reined him in.

  “She’s not drinking for fun. She’s drowning her sorrows in liquor again.” She stood and greeted her bandmate with an arm around the woman’s waist. “What are you doing here?”

  “Ending my search to find you.” Coffee eyes met his. “Apart from a few words in passing, we haven’t formally met.”

  He shook her offered hand and then indicated the free space on the booth seat. “Are you joining us?”

  “No.” Felicity spoke to Hannah. “We talked about this. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “We talked, but we didn’t agree. In fact, I’m pretty sure I argued the hell out of this stupid stunt that puts you in the limelight while the rest of Slicker sits in the dark.”

  “Shh.” Felicity’s panicked gaze cut to him. “We really need to leave.”

  “Sure.” He shrugged and stood. “Are you still coming back to my room?”

  “Your room?” Hannah’s lips parted as she sized him up. “Am I cock blocking?” She switched back to Felicity. “You were about to leave with him?”

  “I offered to sleep on the sofa so Flick could get the bed. I didn’t want her traveling to the bus on her own.” And now he didn’t want the two of them leaving together because a drunk beauty in a gorgeous dress like that was bound to draw unwanted attention.

  “And you were going to take him up on his offer, weren’t you?” She ignored him. “You should tell Scott. He’d be proud of his little puppet.”

  Felicity sighed. “It’s a clean, comfortable bed after weeks of a wafer-thin mattress on a noisy bus with Trent and Carl snoring. You would’ve taken up the offer, too.”

  “Would I?” Hannah looked back at him and cocked her head in scrutiny. “He’s not my type.”

  “You’re being ridiculous.” Felicity met his gaze and winced. “Ryan, do you mind if she crashes, too? The two of us could share your bed.”

  Instantly, two pleading stares were on him. A million hell-yeah thoughts could’ve gone through his mind but he only had one—how the heck was he going to explain to Mason that two beautiful women had slept in his bed and left the next day untouched? Or did he bite the bullet and dive back into the dating pool with a threesome under his belt?

  “Sure.” He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t bother me.”

  Hannah frowned. “Really? This wasn’t a booty call?”

  He stepped forward, summoning enthusiasm he didn’t have, and leaned into her. “If I had plans to sleep with Flick, they would’ve been fulfilled hours ago.” It was a bluff. A shield to hide his lacking skills of seduction and an inability to stop thinking about someone else.

  “Aww, you’re such a gentleman.” She patted him on the chest, her eyes turning seductive.

  “That’s the consensus,” he muttered. “Now let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Five

  There were numerous defining moments in Leah’s life. She was the manager for one of the hottest bands on the planet, for Christ’s sake. She owned defining moments. She had a long list of phenomenal days that shaped her into the professional, hard working woman she was today, and she wouldn’t change a thing. Not a week went by without reminiscing on one of her achievements. At least that was the case until her recently acquired defining moments came with negative effects.

  First there was the kiss. A delicious, fantasy-filled brush of lips that sent her spiraling. She’d always known her dreams couldn’t turn into reality. It wasn’t plausible to have Ryan and her career. So the choice to commit to Reckless hadn’t been something she could regret. The band members were all she had, and there was no regret over the decision she made. She wasn’t whimsical or unrealistic. A relationship with Ryan simply wasn’t an option. End of story.

  But the kiss had shaken her nonetheless. She’d had to work hard to suppress the remembered taste of scotch on her tongue and the feel of his hard chest against hers. That glimpse in time had changed everything, no matter how hard she tried to believe otherwise.

  Then came the images of Ryan and Felicity together. Although somewhat less devastating, she’d had to swallow down an uncomfortable tightening in her throat over the dreamy way they looked at each other.

  Even worse was the story behind the pictures.

  “These were staged,” Alana had pointed out, tilting the camera viewer in Leah’s direction. “But these…” Her friend’s fingers had scrolled across the screen, increasing the discomfort, making Leah awkward in her own skin. “These ones were captured after I told t
hem I’d taken the final shot.”

  Those images were still burned into her retinas. His hands had been on Felicity’s body, his lips so close to her ear. The tightness in her throat had sunk to her chest, then her stomach, squeezing everything inside her until there was no way to deny the reason for her discomfort. Yep, she’d been jealous. But that reckless emotion had quickly been snuffed by her determination to move on from her pathetic infatuation.

  Until now.

  Turns out, she didn’t snuff much of anything, and the discomfort from those images was merely a taste of displeasure in comparison to the all-encompassing pain currently pushing its way through her bones.

  Staying in the lobby, replying to emails and analyzing sales while Ryan had his first official fake date had been a mistake. She’d stupidly told herself she was on standby in case they needed her assistance. If he drank too much, or stalker types slipped through the hotel doors, she’d have to intervene. But as time ticked by without drama, she had to try harder to convince herself of why she remained in place.

  Fuck. This had nothing to do with being on standby and everything to do with stalking his new relationship. Years of suppressed emotions were unraveling inside her. Jealousy fought with spite and desire. She should be the one in the bar enjoying his company. She should be the one making him smile and breathing in his familiar aftershave.

  Damn it. The tour was messing with her head. Insomnia was turning her into a train wreck. Grow a set and get out of here.

  She stood, grabbed her laptop and notepad, then froze at the sight of him at the bar doors. On instinct, her body reacted like it always did—hunger and anticipation mingling in her blood to create a lethal combination she always ignored. His hair was tangled, the shoulder-length waves brushed back from a face that housed a wickedly sexy grin.

  It took a moment to realize what created his happiness. The briefest pause in time to grasp that his mirth wasn’t for her and instead came from the women at his sides. Not one, but two sickeningly seductive females who seemed intent on a plan she couldn’t determine.