by Julia London
Jack said nothing at first. It took his mind a few minutes to absorb the notion that anyone on this tour thought he was Audrey’s personal gopher. Audrey especially. Courtney lifted a brow; Jack smiled and pulled his hand free of her grip. “I can’t do that, Courtney,” he said congenially.
“Oh, but you have to do it. No one else can be spared.”
“Sorry. No can do,” he said, and still smiling, he gestured to the door.
“Well . . . what am I supposed to tell Audrey?” Courtney asked uncertainly as he opened the door and held it open.
“Tell Audrey that I said to remember she hired me to keep her safe, not to pick up after her or walk her damn rat. So if she asks me to do something like that again, she can find other security.”
Courtney blinked with surprise. “Oh,” she said uncertainly. “Do . . . do you really want me to tell her that?”
He leaned down so that he was eye level with her. “Word. For. Word.” He straightened up again.
“Oh-kay.” Courtney looked at him like she thought he was nuts and slowly stepped across the threshold.
“See you,” he said, and shut the door.
Jack never did make it to the gym. But he did find a bar that was serving tall beers. Buckets of them, fortunately, because he needed a good belt now that he was realizing he might have made the biggest mistake of his life.
Six
The next morning, Audrey could hardly open her eyes when Lucas shook her. He was dressed, ready to go to the Qwest Center to oversee the setup for the show.
“Hurry up,” he said with exasperation, shoving her lightly as she burrowed deeper under the covers. “You need to rehearse the ‘Take Me’ number and get through a sound check before three.”
“I’ll be there,” she muttered, her eyes sliding shut again. “Just . . . just take Bruno to Courtney and send a car back.”
“Audrey—”
“Just send a car!” she moaned.
She was exhausted, and it was Lucas’s fault. He’d kept her up until almost two in the morning, trying to persuade her to fly to New York at the end of the month to attend some Hollywood muckety-muck’s birthday bash.
Audrey had never met the guy and didn’t want to go, but Lucas was wearing her down. “Mike Senate is like the biggest director in Hollywood,” he’d said as he dug through his luggage, looking for his black leather pants.
“That’s great. If I were in the movie business, I’m sure I would be interested,” she’d said as she’d gone over the song list.
“You could be in the movie business.”
Audrey had looked up from her songbook.
Lucas had pinned her with a look as he pushed a hand through his golden, highlighted hair. “I’m serious, Audrey. Jessica Simpson made the leap to screen. You could act circles around her.”
Sometimes, she wondered what planet Lucas was from. “I could act circles around her? I don’t even act! I’ve never acted, and what’s more, I don’t want to act. I want to make music, Lucas. Why can’t I just do that?”
“Because sometimes you have to do things to get ahead,” he’d said irritably.
“I am ahead. I’m in a place I never dreamed I would be. How much further ahead do I need to be?”
“Jesus,” he’d said, tossing his leather pants on a chair. “I just wish that you would listen to me—”
“I listen to you all the time—”
“Well, you’re damn sure not hearing me now, Audrey,” he’d snapped. “Here’s what’s wrong with your little fantasy of having made it. Pop stars die a painful death after the age of thirty. You are twenty-eight. You need to think of the future and what you are going to do when this gig ends.”
But it had been more than Audrey could think of last night. She was stressed from all the last-minute preparations for the show, and honestly, seeing Jack Price yesterday had stirred something in her she wanted to pulverize to a powder rather than acknowledge. And Lucas wanted her to fly off and meet some director?
On top of that, on the way out of town yesterday, she’d gotten a call from her sister Gail, who told her that her brother, Allen, had been missing for two days.
“Missing?” Audrey had cried as fear clutched at her heart. “What do you mean missing?”
“I don’t mean he’s been abducted or anything,” Gail had said with a snort. “I think he went out on a bender. But his probation officer is pissed, Audie—she says she is going to have his probation revoked this time.”
Audrey had to ask her to repeat the last part, as the party had already begun in the limo, but whatever Gail said was lost. When they pulled to a stop at the tarmac, she got out so she could hear her sister, oblivious to the sheriff’s deputies, or the paparazzi behind her—they were just part of the normal landscape these days—and was hardly even conscious that she was walking, so intent was she on the conversation.
Her heart was beating wildly as she listened to Gail. Allen would never survive in prison—so why did he have to do this? Why did he sabotage every chance he was granted?
“I don’t know what to do,” Audrey said to Gail. “I’m just about to get on a plane. My tour starts tomorrow, Gail—my first nationwide tour!”
“Well, I know he’s real nervous about paying a lawyer,” Gail said calmly. “His regular lawyer wants two grand just to show up in court.”
Audrey didn’t know why she was surprised; the calls from her family were usually about money. Just last week, Dad had called asking for money to buy a race car. Audrey had closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, she noticed Jack Price standing at the steps leading up to the plane.
Actually, she couldn’t help noticing him—he was fine-looking man. His dark hair was wavier than she recalled, but his blue eyes were still killer, and the man could fit a pair of Levi’s better than any man she’d ever seen.
They fit so well, in fact, that as Gail had cheerfully launched into how much money they needed, Audrey did nothing but gape at Jack through a pair of very dark sunglasses. It was funny—she’d met so many people, so many Hollywood types who landed on every annual beautiful list. But to Audrey, a beautiful man was the kind who had some meat on him, who looked as if he could hold up the globe in one hand and had the calluses to prove it, the kind of man who didn’t mind working for a living.
“Audie, did you hear me?” Gail screeched into the phone.
“What? Yes, of course I did!” Audrey said, startled back to reality as she continued her march to the plane. “But I can’t come to Texas right now.”
“You don’t need to come here,” Gail said wearily. “Just wire Mom some money.”
Okay, seriously—Audrey didn’t begrudge her family a dime—but could they not act like she was their personal ATM?
“Fine,” Audrey said.
Jack was watching her. That was the other thing about this business of fame—people made no bones about openly staring at her. It always made her feel like she had spinach in her teeth.
“Look, I have to go,” she said to Gail. “I’ll call you later to see what’s going on, okay?”
“Okay. But can you wire the money today?” Gail whined as a slow and sexy smile melted onto Jack’s lips.
“Okay, yeah. Later,” Audrey muttered, and clicked off. Looking at Jack, she felt absurdly nervous, and for no reason, other than being this close to him reminded her of being this close to him once before, on a moon-drenched beach.
And that inevitably reminded her of the way his body felt next to hers, which made her feel confused. Which is why, she supposed, she had come off like a diva. She hadn’t meant to be a diva, but she had learned that the only way to get people to back off was to be mean. Lucas kept telling her she had to do it or people would walk all over her.
It was more of a self-protective reflex than anything else that made her shove Bruno at him.
Jack had looked at her like she had just asked for rack of lamb or something equally ridiculous, and Audrey had thought that if he was making a nic
e chunk of change off her, he shouldn’t be so averse to letting Bruno pee. Needless to say, the flight had gone downhill from there. She’d been completely rattled when he sat across from her, staring at her the whole time with that smug look on his face. She couldn’t think, couldn’t wait to get to the hotel and away from him; she had even left her earpiece on the plane.
But then Lucas had started his crap about going to Mike Senate’s birthday bash, like she needed to add anything else to her schedule right now, like she needed to be thinking of acting instead of embarking on a tour that had her on pins and needles as it was.
At two this morning when she’d tried to sleep, it was all running around in her head, and she tossed and turned while Lucas worked on some song.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Lucas had asked.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Let me get you something,” he said, putting aside his guitar.
“No, Lucas, I hate those pills.”
He paused and looked at her. “Do you want to sleep, or not?”
She did want to sleep. If she didn’t get some sleep, she would crash. So she had taken the pills Lucas gave her, chased them down with a drink, and that was the last conscious thing she remembered doing before sliding off into a deep, peaceful sleep.
It seemed Lucas hadn’t been gone even fifteen minutes before he was jostling her again, his hand surprisingly firm on her hip. Audrey felt so heavy, she felt almost dead. She forced her eyes open beneath the covers she had pulled over her head—it took a moment for her to remember exactly where she was. “Stop it,” she croaked, the fog in her mouth as thick as the fog in her brain. Her face felt mashed on one side.
“Get up,” he growled, his voice unusually low.
Audrey groped for the top of the covers and pushed them back, then rose up on her elbows. She had to push her tangled hair out of her face, and when her head stopped swimming, she turned to look up at Lucas—and screeched.
It wasn’t Lucas towering over her; it was Jack Price, his arms crossed over his big chest, a frown on his face.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she cried, scrambling off the other side of the bed.
“A better question is what the hell are you doing here?” he countered. “You were supposed to be at the coliseum two hours ago.”
Oh no—oh God. Audrey glanced at the clock just as it turned to 12:36. “Shit!”
“Have a late night?” Jack drawled.
“None of your business,” she snapped and realized that she was wearing nothing more than a pair of thong bikini panties and a camisole. She grabbed a pillow to shield herself, but it was too late. His gaze was smoldering.
“I guess it becomes my business when you aren’t where you’re supposed to be. It’s my job.”
No thanks to Lucas. “How did you get in here, anyway?” she demanded as she backed her way to the bathroom.
“I’m security, remember? Of course I have a key to your room. Lucas gave me the okay to come in when you didn’t answer the phone.”
The phone was ringing and she hadn’t heard it? Never mind that—when she got ahold of Lucas, she was going to let him have it. Who did he think he was, giving a strange man permission to enter their room? “Okay. Well. You’ve done your job, I’m up, so you can go now,” she said, pointing to the door.
Jack laughed and slid his big frame into a chair. “I’m not going anywhere without you, starlight. I will personally deliver you to the arena.”
“Just send a car!” she snapped at him, which she promptly punctuated by backing into the wall and hitting her funny bone. “Ouch. Ouchouchouch.”
He grinned. “I am the car, kid. So if you’ll just hurry up and do whatever it is you do, we can both put this ugly morning behind us.” And with that, he propped his feet on the end of her bed.
“Get your feet off my bed!” she said as she slid to her right and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. But then she realized she hadn’t brought anything in with her—like toiletries or clothes. Or even panties.
Okay, this was absurd. She dressed in less than this on stage. Right . . . but she had makeup and leather and somehow it was different when one guy was looking at her like that as opposed to an auditoriumful. Nevertheless, she was frantic about being late. So Audrey dropped the pillow and threw the door open. Jack Price raised one dark brow as she marched, head up, to the mountain of suitcases in the corner of the room.
She rooted through her bags, silently cursing Courtney. Why hadn’t Courtney sorted through this stuff? A personal assistant was the one thing Audrey had agreed with Lucas she needed. So where was her so-called personal assistant? Why did she always have the feeling that Courtney was off plotting something?
Oh, right. She went to get the earpiece Audrey had left on the plane since High and Mighty Security Guy over there couldn’t be bothered.
She opened several bags before she found what she needed and stood up . . . only a little too fast. She had to put her hand against the wall to steady herself. When she could focus again a moment later, she noticed that Jack had come to his feet and was watching her closely.
“Are you okay?” he asked, moving toward her, his expression full of concern.
“I’m fine.”
His gaze fell to her mouth and she felt something stir inside her. “How often are you taking pills?” he asked softly.
The question stunned her so that she reared back. “What? What are you saying? Who in the hell do you think you are?”
He didn’t answer, but let his gaze drift down her body before lifting it to her eyes again, and in those really stunning blue eyes, Audrey could see Jack was onto her.
“Just shut up,” she said angrily, and brushed past him, headed for the bathroom. “It’s not a big deal and it is so not your business,” she spat over her shoulder as she stalked inside. She slammed the door, turned on the shower full blast and scalding hot. She slipped out of her clothes and climbed into the stall, and the moment the water hit her, Audrey melted.
She slid down the tiled wall to her haunches, her vision blurred by the tears that suddenly welled in her eyes. With her fists pressed against her mouth, she silently sobbed.
But when Audrey emerged a half hour later, she was completely composed, an art she had learned the last year in the course of her dizzying rise to fame and fortune. She was wearing a very short skirt and a T-shirt that had been doctored to look torn at the neck and arms by someone who thought three hundred dollars was what the look was worth.
Jack was standing at the window now—not that Audrey noticed or cared. She padded across the room to the trunk that held all her shoes and threw it open. She could feel Jack’s eyes on her as she dug a pair of Ugg boots out if it. She stood and smoothed her skirt. No one had ever made her feel quite as naked as she was feeling at the moment.
Not even Lucas.
A sliver of guilt jabbed her. Audrey swallowed it down as she bent over and pulled one boot on, then the other. Jack was still watching her, but his expression had a predatory edge to it. It seemed almost as if he were restraining himself from capturing her and taking her back to his cave.
She walked across the room, picked up the little bag that held her cell phone and lipstick and mints—no money, she never needed money anymore—and said, “Let’s go.”
She didn’t look back to see if Jack followed, just walked. She could feel him at her back as they stood waiting for the elevator, his gaze burning her body every place it touched. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
When the elevator arrived, Audrey stepped inside and slumped against the wall. Jack pushed the button for the second floor. As the elevator sped down, he clasped his hands behind his back and said, “You don’t need pills to sleep.”
“Oh dear God,” she muttered angrily as the heat of shame crept into her neck. “I said it’s none of your business.”
He turned his head and looked at her; there was something new in his blue eyes. Dear God, was it concer
n? “I know,” he said calmly. “But you’re young and about to embark on the ride of your life. Why screw it up with pills?”
“Don’t try and understand, Superman,” she said. “You cannot imagine what my life is like. I have a lot on my mind.”
“My guess? It’s not your life that’s convincing you to take those pills,” he said casually. “Either you’re not getting what you need, or someone is talking you into it.”
That drew her up short—she cocked her head and eyed him curiously. “What do you mean, getting what I need?”
Jack gave her a very lopsided smile. “Exactly what you think I mean, cupcake.”
She gasped; he smiled as the elevator door opened. “After you,” he said, and put his big hand on the small of her back, guiding her out.
Audrey suppressed another bothersome shiver. Honestly, who did this guy think he was?
Seven
On the way to the arena, Audrey stared out the window at the passing scenery, one shapely leg crossed over the other, one booted foot swinging dangerously close to Jack’s leg. There was no conversation—for which Jack was thankful, for the girl could really infuriate him. Pills? Who was she, Janis Joplin?—Jack studied the smooth skin of her thigh.
That was not helping him rid himself of the image of her in skimpy underwear.
Dammit. He could throttle her for not getting up this morning, because he had a feeling it was going to take him a good long while to stop thinking about those panties.
He wondered what she was thinking—she looked miserable. But when they turned into the parking lot of the arena, there was a small group of young girls hanging around the gated entrance. When they spied the limo, they screamed and jumped up and down, waving at it.
“Oh!” Audrey said, instantly lighting up like Times Square. “Stop here, stop here!” she cried to the driver, and as soon as he rolled to a stop, she popped out. Jack did, too, moving instantly to where she had walked up to the group of girls, who had broken into pandemonium at the sight of Audrey.
