by Anthology
Lex straightened and knocked back the shot. Before she could blink or process what was about to happen, he was inches from her face. His eyes held a glint of dark promise, and they didn’t move from hers as his lips closed over the lime. His mouth grazed hers, sending electric need sparking over her skin and heat gathering between her thighs. She resisted the urge to grab his shaggy hair and pull him down for a real kiss. She gripped the sides of the speakers with all her strength instead. God, help her. Two minutes on stage and she’d turned into one of those fan girls in the audience.
Lex rose, finished sucking the lime, and then put his hand out to help her to her feet. She yanked her shirt down with trembling hands and joined him in front of the cheering crowd, giving silent thanks that she hadn’t acted on her ridiculous impulse to kiss him. As she stood side by side, Lex tucked his arm behind her and slid his hand into her back pocket. She stiffened at the feel of his hand on her ass. While still looking at the audience, he moved his mouth next to her ear, his voice fraught with wicked promise. “That’s a pass. Why don’t you come backstage and visit me after the show?”
Her attention snapped toward him, and he flashed a cocky grin—one that said he had already carved a notch on his mental bedpost in her honor. Oh, hell no. So now he thought her willingness to do the body shot meant she was ready to be the groupie of the night? Was that how things worked in his world? Of course it was. The thought instantly cooled her body’s hair-trigger reaction from a moment before. She crossed my arms over her chest and turned her gaze back to the crowd. Well, Mr. Rock Star was in for a rude awakening. He may have managed to get her all hot and bothered during her momentary lapse of sanity, but she wasn’t some Wanderslut.
CHAPTER 2
The blonde on Lex’s right placed her hand on his thigh and leaned into him. The pleather couch squeaked as she adjusted herself, allowing him an unencumbered view of her assets. “The show was amazing, Lex.”
He lifted the corner of his mouth into a wry smile. People had used the word amazing so many times around him over the last two years that it had lost all resonance. Very few things in life were truly amazing. His mom’s fried chicken? Definitely. Slash’s opening guitar riff on “Sweet Child ‘O Mine”? Absolutely. The show tonight? Not so much. The band had sounded like four strangers trying to imitate Wanderlust songs, a cover band version of their former selves. Lex rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. They were falling apart, and he had no idea how to fix it.
“So what are you doing after you leave here?” asked the redhead on his right, her voice one note shy of purring.
Lex shrugged and lifted his head to look at her. She handed him a beer, and he took a swig. “I don’t know. It’s been a long night already.”
“We could keep you company.” A hot pink fingernail scraped across his jeans, moving upward. Even the simple sound of that nail against denim was irritating his senses. “Both of us. Right, Candace?”
The blonde nodded.
He clamped his hand over the girl’s, stopping its progress. Both women were so close it was as if they were sucking up all the available air. He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. The groupies were nice to look at, Maxim cover-worthy bodies, but he wasn’t feeling it tonight. Hell, he hadn’t been feeling it for months. His eyes darted around the dimly lit room. He’d hoped the body shot girl would come backstage to visit, but he hadn’t seen her. Why wouldn’t she use her pass? He’d never had a woman not take advantage of a backstage pass he’d personally delivered.
He turned his head to check on Jared, the drummer. The guy consumed brunettes like an alcoholic downed cheap vodka. Lex would kick his ass if he’d intercepted body shot girl before she could get to Lex’s side of the room. But she wasn’t with Jared either. Instead, a girl with curly dark hair was sitting next to him, fondling one of his drumsticks in a not-so-subtle manner. Jared appeared to be completely enthralled. Unlike Lex, the guy never tired of the endless stream of groupies.
“What do you think, sweet thing?” Candace asked.
“Huh?”
Candace rolled her eyes. “About the three of us having some fun tonight?”
He sighed. The offer was tempting—at least on some level. A few mindless hours with two women, two women whose only mission was to please him in the most lascivious ways, could probably help him forget the nightmare of a show. But, he couldn’t stop thinking about the girl he’d pulled on stage—the way she’d trembled when he’d tasted her skin, the heat in her pale green eyes as they’d brushed lips. He’d barely been able to keep his dick from standing at attention right there on stage. That’s what he was in the mood for. Someone with raw reactions, not the over exaggerated fawning of well-practiced groupies. He scooted forward on the couch and away from their pawing. “Excuse me, ladies. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think it’s a good idea tonight. I need to chat with my manager and then get some shut-eye.”
They pouted in unison. “Let us know if you change your mind, baby,” one said as he walked off.
Lex tossed his beer in the trash and prowled to the catering table. Finger sandwiches, bags of chips, and drinks sat next to a fishbowl of condoms. He grabbed a bottle of water, and surveyed the room one last time. No body shot girl. Just the same generic companionship of the last dozen cities. Groundhog day. He snuck off to the dressing room for some space.
The plum-colored walls and the smell of stale cigarette smoke did nothing to alleviate his claustrophobia, but at least the room was quiet. He sank onto the plush sofa and propped his feet on the arm of it. His gaze traced the water stains on the ceiling. What the hell am I going to do now?
Tonight was the last of the club shows, and now the deadlines for the second album loomed like some black hole ready to crush him for good. His packed tour schedule wouldn’t fly as an excuse anymore. He’d been trying to write and rework the final songs for their next album for months now. Nothing had clicked. The tracks for the first album had poured out of him as if he would burst if he didn’t get the words on paper fast enough. Easy. Quick. Effortless. The band loved them. The fans ate them up. Even the goddamned critics deemed the singles worthy of positive reviews.
Now everyone was expecting a sophomore album that didn’t just equal the first, but blew it out of the goddamned water. They were all waiting for him to perform another miracle—a record that would push them into the stratosphere of arena-sized shows. Lex Logan, their own personal Jesus. And the more time that went by without new songs, the more restless everyone became. The record label was making threats, he and the other band members argued nonstop, and his manager was drinking liquid antacid like it was Gatorade.
“Lex.” He heard Pete’s voice followed by knocking.
He didn’t open his eyes. “Go away. I’m busy.”
As usual, his manager didn’t listen. The door swung open.
“Lex, I need to talk to you for a minute,” Pete said, looking harried. He pulled a rubber band from his pocket and wrangled his unruly salt and pepper hair into ponytail. “What are you doing in here anyway?”
“Avoiding girls who are only after me for my superior screwing skills.”
Pete snorted. “Yeah right.”
Lex sat up and rubbed his palms on his jeans. “I needed a break. I’m over this whole scene tonight. All I want to do is grab a burger and go to the hotel.”
“Look, you can do that in a little while. The reporter from the NOLA Vibe is here to talk to you.”
“Nick’s here?” Lex smiled. “Awesome. I totally forgot we were doing that thing with him.” Nick Jackson was a high school buddy. Lex hadn’t seen him in over a year, but had promised to give him a story when Wanderlust came to New Orleans. “He’ll be up for a burger.”
Pete glanced at the closed door and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, Nick isn’t here.”
“What do you mean?” He didn’t like Pete’s tone. He had used that same tone to tell Lex he had one month—four lousy weeks—to finish the s
ongs for the second album.
“Nick’s in the hospital.”
Lex shot to his feet, dwarfing Pete. “Holy shit, is he okay?”
Pete put his hands up, shrinking back. “He’s fine. Exploded appendix, I think, but okay. It’s just that, they’ve sent a replacement reporter.”
“Thank God he’s all right.” Lex raked his hands through his hair and then registered the second part of Pete’s statement. “Hold on, I don’t need a replacement reporter. The only reason I agreed to the exclusive was because Nick’s my friend. If he’s out, I’m out. You know I don’t have time to do a weeklong deal with some magazine, especially with all this crap going on.”
Pete approached the mirrors lining the back wall and rested a hip against the counter. “Man, I’m with you. I don’t want some reporter nosing around when you guys are at each other’s throats. The last thing we need is rumors about a break up leaking out. But we agreed to an exclusive with the magazine, not with Nick. We’re obligated.”
Lex groaned. “The hell we are. This is supposed to be my mental vacation or whatever, right? Isn’t that what the label suggested? Take a breather, get inspired, pull a few number one songs outta my ass. How am I supposed to do that with some reporter tagging along?”
“How were you going to do it with Nick?”
“Nick’s my buddy. It wouldn’t be like an interview. We’d hang out. He’d be one of the guys, like an honorary band member, no big deal. Plus, I trust him. If I asked him not to put something in a story, he wouldn’t.”
“Lex, I don’t think there’s a way out of this unless the magazine voluntarily pulls out. You’re going to have to figure out how to make it work.”
There was a light tap on the door, and both men turned their heads toward it.
“Come on in,” Pete said.
The door cracked open and Lady Body Shot stepped in. “Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt, but one of the guys told me I could come back here.”
Lex’s scowl morphed into a predatory grin as he scanned the sexy visitor. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a total loss. “Hey there, I didn’t think you were going to make it. If you give me just a minute, I’ll be right with you, sweetheart.”
She frowned and looked to Pete.
Pete cleared his throat. “Um, Lex, this is Aubrey Bordelon. She’s the reporter from the NOLA Vibe.”
“What?” Lex shook his head. “No, this is the chick I did the body shot with on stage.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Aubrey said dryly, “reporter and stage prop.”
“Shit.” Lex scowled. Of all the goddamned luck.
Aubrey crossed the room with a graceful, confident stride and stuck out her hand to him. Her smile seemed strained, though, like it was hurting her face “Hey, no big deal. You didn’t know, and I didn’t want to be a bad sport in front of the crowd. Why don’t we pretend it never happened and that we haven’t met yet? I’m Aubrey.”
He gripped her hand. He didn’t want to pretend it never happened. The moment that had passed between them on stage had been the only interesting moment of the whole drag of a night. “Lex Logan.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, dropping his hand and taking a significant step backward, as if he were contagious or something. “I guess Pete told you about Nick.”
Lex nodded.
“Yeah, so my boss asked me to take over. Nick’s going to be out of commission for a while.” She tucked her wavy, coffee-colored hair behind her ears, and Lex let his eyes roam to her jaw line and the delicate curve of her neck. Her skin looked like the kind of pale that would burn rosy red if touched the right way. He wanted to reach out and test that theory, but he forced his eyes back to her face. She was still talking. “He said that the piece was supposed to be a slice of life kind of thing. A week in the life of a rock star. Is that what he had talked to you about?”
Lex stuck his hands in his back pockets and shrugged. He had no idea what she’d asked. He was suddenly too focused on the soft pink of her lips.
Pete jumped in. “Yeah, that’s what we discussed, Ms. Bordelon. A weeklong exclusive.”
Pete’s words dragged Lex back to reality. Why was he standing here like an idiot thinking about how beddable this girl was? She was a reporter, a reporter who would be trailing after him like a gnat while he tried to get his head and band back together. No way.
“Look, Aubrey,” he said, trying to sound as polite as possible. “I’m sure you’re a great music journalist and all, but I think I’m going to have to decline. I need the next two weeks to focus on my music and the next album. This is supposed to be a sort of inspiration vacation, if you will.”
He grinned at his clever term.
Her sweet smile disappeared and a no nonsense face took its place. “Mr. Logan, I’m sorry you feel that way, but your manager signed a contract with the magazine guaranteeing the exclusive.”
“For an interview with Nick,” Lex said.
“You signed it with the magazine, not a specific reporter. Now I can promise you that I will be as accommodating as possible. I don’t plan to get in the way of your inspiration. I simply need to observe and ask a few questions as we go along. I can be one of the guys just as much as Nick would be.”
He snorted. “Yeah, sure you can.”
She crossed her arms, and a tinge of color crept from her neck to her face. “I assure you I’m qualified to handle the story.”
Lex tried to ignore how the flush in her cheeks made her look even more enticing. She was off limits. Not only off limits but trying to force him into a miserable week of interviews and hiding the truth. “Are you now? What other bands have you done interviews with?”
Her green eyes shifted away briefly. “I’m…just moving into the music portion of the magazine. I’ve been focusing on the culinary articles up until now.”
Lex let out a loud laugh and turned to Pete. “They sent the goddamned restaurant reviewer. Can you believe this crap? They must be on some major drugs if they expect me to spend a week with a food and wine debutante. She doesn’t even write about music.”
Pete crossed the room and placed a hand on Lex’s shoulder. “Lex, calm down. Ms. Bordelon, I’m sorry. Lex is under a lot of pressure right now. He doesn’t mean to be so rude.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you always have your manager apologize for you, Mr. Logan?”
“Only when the apology isn’t genuine,” Lex replied.
She blew out a breath, clearly frustrated. “Fine. Look, I don’t want to argue. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, which is unfortunate. But, the fact of the matter is, you have a contract and I have a job to do.”
“Can’t the magazine back out?” Lex asked. “Cancel the contract from that end?”
“Sure, but we’re not going to do that. There’s too much buzz around you, Mr. Logan. Our readers are just dyin’ to know every little thing, and we won’t let them down.” Sarcasm oozed off her sweet southern accent.
He smirked. “There are no little things about me, Ms. Bordelon. Just ask any of the girls out there.”
She pressed her lips together in a hard line, but color appeared high on her cheeks. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
Sure, she could be “just one of the guys.” She couldn’t even handle a dirty comment without getting flustered. Lex wet his lips. Okay, so he needed her to back out. Maybe getting her to do that would be fun. Based on her reactions so far, it certainly wouldn’t take long to get her annoyed enough to drop the whole thing. “Fine, Miz Bordelon, I’ll do the story. But I’m not adjusting anything to accommodate you. I’m going to do my thing, and you can follow us around. But just know, this ain’t a fine dining experience.”
She gave him a bored look. “Yeah, I get it. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Don’t worry about me. You’ll hardly notice I’m there.”
He grunted. Yeah, like that was possible.
Pete put his hand out to Aubrey. “Thank you, Ms. Bordelon. We look forward to working with you. I’m sure the guys plan o
n sleeping late in the morning, but why don’t you stop by the studio tomorrow afternoon? They’ll be working on a few tracks for the next album.”
She smiled and shook his hand. “Great, I’ll be there. Thanks, Pete.”
She spun on her heel, ignoring Lex, and strutted out the door.
Lex shook his head. Damn, she had a nice ass. Too bad there was such a big stick up it.
CHAPTER 3
Aubrey swirled the sweetener into her iced tea, watching it dissolve, wishing she could vanish as well.
Her mother huffed and set down the butter knife with a sharp clink. “Aubrey, you’ve barely said two words since we sat down. What’s the matter with you?”
“I’m fine, just a little tired.” She placed her teaspoon on the white linen tablecloth and a light brown stain spread around it. Her head pounded from the combination of the late night and lack of morning coffee. “They have me covering for Nick at work.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “That scraggly pothead?”
Aubrey resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “He’s not a pothead. He’s a great journalist. And you only think he looks scraggly because his hair falls past his ears.”
Okay, so Nick could be a pothead. He did have a fondness of burning incense in his office, but that was totally beside the point.
“I call them like I see them, dear,” her mother said and nibbled her slice of French bread.
The waiter placed bowls of soup in front of them. “Crawfish bisque. Our special of the day.”
“Oh, we didn’t order soup,” Aubrey said.
“Compliments of the chef,” he replied, smiling. “He was so happy with the review you did on the restaurant a few weeks ago, he wanted to say thank you. He’s getting the article framed.”
