by Desiree Holt
Table of Contents
Bang the Drummer
Copyright
Dedication
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
About the Author
Also Available
Also Read
Thank You
Bang the Drummer
by
Desiree Holt
Twelve Brides of Christmas
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Bang the Drummer
COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Desiree Holt
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2014
Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-535-7
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
As always, to my wonderful beta reader, Margie Hager, who helps me keep my brain and my schedule straight. To my family, who puts up with my moods and my craziness. And to my readers, who make writing every story so worthwhile.
Merry Christmas to all of you.
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Desiree Holt
AND HER BOOKS
“Ms. Holt dazzled me with descriptions that read like lyrics to a love song.”
~The Romance Reviews
“Desiree Holt is like the Nora Roberts of erotic romance.”
~USA Today Happy Ever After
“Desiree Holt has a strong following of readers and I understand why. Her books...always have an original twist to them while still focusing on the heart of what romance readers want, love.”
~Ramblings and Reviews
"Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last."
~Romance Junkies
Chapter One
Winter
January
Jill Kennedy curled up on her couch studying her iPad, frowning. Her Christmas tree still twinkled in the corner although the holiday was long past. Coldplay’s latest CD bumped its tunes out from her iPod docking station. The last of her Christmas candles flickered in glass holders on the coffee table, filling the room with the scent of pine and cranberry. She should be feeling mellow, but instead her nerves were jumping and a headache was creeping slowly up from the nape of her neck.
Charlie Costello lounged next to her, sock feet resting on her coffee table, his hands tapping a steady rhythm on his thighs in time to the song.
Jill tucked a strand of her shoulder-length sable-colored hair behind her ear as she studied the information on the iPad screen.
“I think I’ve got everything taken care of. Booked the Creekside Winery. Ordered the decorations. Set up a tasting for the food and Stella’s designing the wedding cake.” She glanced up at Charlie. “Why are you looking at me in that strange way?”
He gave her his familiar lop-sided grin. “You are the only woman I know who plans and pays for her wedding without knowing who the groom is.”
She flipped a hand at him. “I’ll have one by then. It’s in the plan. You know.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah, I love your interview process. You aren’t even dating anyone right now.”
“Because look how poor my choices were in that arena, right?”
He snorted. “So this is better? Tell me how?”
Jill pulled up another memo on her iPad. “Okay. I have a list.”
“A list? This I gotta hear. Lay it on me.”
If she didn’t need his help so badly, she would have smacked him. “It’s very specific. I asked around about different drummers in different bands and narrowed it down to the twelve most likely prospects. You know. Twelve drummers drumming, for Christmas.”
“Like a grocery list,” he teased.
“No, Charlie.” Damn him! “Like an interview process for a job.”
“Is that what this is, kitten? A job?”
“It’s a lifetime commitment,” she sniffed. She wished he’d just let her get on with this. All these questions were making her have tiny doubts about the wisdom of her decision. She gave herself a mental shake. “I’ll do one a month until I hit on the right one. The exact right one. First I check out their musical talent and their band history.”
Charlie gave a roar of laughter. “Because that’s such a requirement for stability?”
“Because it has to be a drummer, so I need his performance history,” she snapped.
“Maybe it’s a different kind of performance you should be worrying about.”
“That comes later. After the phone calls and the coffee dates to see how he is in person and match our likes and dislikes.”
“Coffee dates?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Not even a romantic dinner?”
She wanted to sling the iPad at him. “I’ve been that route, remember? The whole nine yards, and what did I get? A bunch of losers. No, I’m doing this like a project for work.” As a systems analyst, she knew the importance of things being able to mesh on a practical basis.
“So you’re going to interview these bozos and then—what?”
“Drummers,” she told him. “Interviewing drummers.”
He cocked his head. “And that’s why?”
“I told you.” She blew out a breath of exasperation. “Drummers have the best beat. The best tempo. They’re the heart of the band.” She grinned. “And have the best rhythm in bed.”
“And you know this because?”
“Because I have a long love affair with drummers. I should have done this a long time ago instead of thinking all the stupid metrosexuals were my answer.”
“Bullshit.” He spat the word out as he pushed himself upright. “I know what this is really all about. You never got over that loser with that penny ante bar band ten years ago, and you’ve been looking to replace him ever since then.”
“That is so not true.” But a spear of pain lanced through her.
Ray Bonda had been the love of her eighteen-year-old life. She’d been ready to ditch college, her life, everything for him. Even at their young age they’d talked about a Christmas wedding. She’d spent weeks looking at magazines and collecting pictures. So what if her folks were dead set against it. She was in love, and a Christmas wedding would set just the right tone.
But he’d taken her virginity and her heart and fled into the night with a waitress from the bar. She hated the thought that she’d been trying to replace him ever since, always fixated with her romanticized image of drummers.
She bent her head back over her iPad.
“It is true.” Charlie’s quiet voice broke into her thoughts. “And I hate to see you doing this to yourself.”
“But it’s my self to do this to,” she argued.
“So what about the sex? Is that on the list, too?”
She nodded. “After the research, the interviews, and the coffee dates, then comes the sex.”
“You talk about it like it’s just an item on the check list.”
“It is. I have to be sure we’ll be compatible in bed.” She
closed her eyes for a moment as all her previous sexual disasters flashed through her brain. Where had she found such men who were selfish? Demanding? Too quick for pleasure? Arrogant? And a lot of words she chose not to use. No, this was the best way. Everything tested and checked off ahead of time.
“So you’re just going to keep banging drummers until you find the right one?”
“You got it.”
“What about romance?” he asked. “Isn’t that important, too?”
A pain lanced through her heart as memories crashed in on her. “Been there, done that, got the rotten T-shirt. Romance is highly overrated. It’s just words. No, this is much better.” She glared at him. “And you promised to help. Don’t forget that.”
Charlie had been her friend since her first job at Arrow International. They had started there the same day, and the friendship had grown as they each moved up in their respective areas. He’d held her hand through her multiple breakups, and she’d done the same for him. Now she’d enlisted him in her search for the perfect drummer to marry. The one who would replace Ray in her heart and fulfill her dreams.
She sneaked a glance at him, wondering if he was going to change his mind. His thick blond hair was mussed from running his fingers through it and his dark brown eyes were filled with worry. Oh, no! He wasn’t going to pull the “I’m just worried about your safety” thing again, was he?
“Jill,” he began.
“No.” She held up a hand. “Stop. You promised. You can’t go back on your word now.”
He leaned back again, studying her face. “So let me get this straight. Again. You’ve already made all the wedding plans and put down the deposits.”
“Check.”
“You’ve even ordered your wedding gown.”
“Check again.”
“But not your invitations because—”
“I don’t know who the groom is. Yes, yes, yes. I want a Christmas wedding, and I’m going to have the groom by then.”
“And you’re going to ‘interview’ drummers until then to find the right one.” He used his fingers for air quotes.
“And you’re going to help me.”
“By going along on your stupid first dates to make sure the guy isn’t a scuzzbag.”
She gave him a smile. “You got it right, my friend. And this Friday night is Drummer Number One.”
Charlie sighed. “Desmond Richie, right? What kind of guy is named Desmond?”
“His stage name,” she sniffed, “is Beats. Because he’s a drummer. Beats Richie.” She swallowed a smile. “He said nothing beats Beats.”
“You’ve had coffee with him twice, right?” Charlie pushed.
“Yes. And it went very well.”
“So Friday night I’ll take you to the club and then he’ll—what? See you home afterwards?”
She nodded. “To his home.”
Charlie pushed himself off the couch, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and began to pace.
“How do you know you’ll be safe with him? What if he turns out to be, I don’t know, an axe murderer?”
She burst out laughing “Get real. I’ll have my cell with me. If I run into trouble, you can come get me right away. Otherwise, I’ll take a cab home in the morning.”
He frowned. “He won’t be driving you home?”
She shook her head. “Not even if I’m sure he’s going to be the one. Not until I make my decision.”
“Wait a minute.” He stared at her. “You mean even if the two of you hit it off you still plan to keep looking?”
“Well, of course.” She sniffed. “I don’t want to make a mistake. This is too important.”
“Jill, this isn’t like trying on shoes. Are you seriously planning to sleep with twelve guys before you decide whose name to put on the invitation?”
A tiny knot twisted in her stomach. When he said it straight out like that, it didn’t sound as good as it looked on paper.
“Charlie, I’m thirty-one years old. I want to get married. Settle down. Have a family. I mean, I love my job, but I want a lot more than that.”
He rubbed his hand along the scruff of his jaw. “I don’t know, kiddo. It just seems…weird. What about falling in love?”
A bitter taste washed through her mouth. “I tried that once, remember? We both know how well that turned out.”
“Damn it, Jill you were eighteen years old. A whole lot has changed since then.”
“This is what I’m doing.” She glared at him. “If you don’t want to help me, just say so. I’ll handle it myself.”
“No.” He nearly shouted the word. “As your longtime friend, I want to scope each of these guys out for myself. So if you insist on doing something this asinine, I’ll keep my promise. Friday night at eight. Right?”
“Right.” Jill deliberately ignored the nervous flutter in her stomach.
“Okay. I’ll pick you up then.”
But after Charlie took himself off, she stared at her iPad. Was she crazy to do this? All her life she’d dreamed of a Christmas wedding, with all the trimmings. And she wasn’t willing to trust her heart to the uncertainty of love. The only thing she was certain of was that drummers did it for her. So a drummer it would be.
****
“Are you sure you really want to do this?”
Jill glared at Charlie in the darkened club. On stage the musicians were breaking down their equipment for the night. They had sat through three of the band’s sets, high energy music that excited her and got her blood thrumming. She had insisted they take a table close to the little stage so Beats could see her when they arrived. His smile, when he spotted her, sent a little thrill skating through her, despite Charlie’s grumpiness.
They had talked on the phone, texted, had two long coffee dates, talked about themselves. She had been very explicit with him about fidelity and monogamy, about her attitude toward groupies. About what she wanted out of life. She didn’t even mind him taking out of town gigs as long as it wasn’t a steady thing.
Both times they’d been together he’d held her hand, stroking it lightly with his fingers. Lifting it to kiss her knuckles. Caressing her arm. She loved the way his black hair curled to his shoulders, framing a face that reminded her of a poet or artist. The excitement was there, she was positive, especially seeing the way his obsidian black eyes devoured her. She got all the necessary details out of the way. Tonight was all about seeing if the sexual chemistry worked.
She tried to squash the little niggling voice that kept asking if she was actually going to interview twelve drummers in bed. The physical was equally as important as the other stuff. And she had to make sure she wasn’t missing an opportunity. Maybe if she was lucky she’d find one before December that totally rocked her world. If not, at least she’d have a good selection from which to make her choice.
“Ready?”
She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t seen Beats come up to the table.
“I am.” She gave him a smile. “Definitely.”
“What about your friend here?” He looked pointedly at Charlie.
“I’m just the chauffeur.” Charlie pushed back his chair and stood up. “You guys have fun.” He looked at Jill. “Got your cell?”
She nodded.
“She won’t need it.” Beats put an arm around her. “She’ll be too busy to make any calls.”
Charlie gave her one long last look before heading toward the door.
“All set?” Beats murmured the words in her ear, his breath soft against her skin.
Jill nodded, tamping down a sudden attack of nerves.
“Let’s go, then.” He linked his fingers with hers and drew her out the back door to his van.
She hadn’t thought to ask him where he lived, a bad mistake on her part, but as she scanned the streets during the drive, she saw they were in a neighborhood of older homes. Lots of mature trees. Cars in driveways, more parked here and there at the curb.
The house he pulled up to was a two
-story with a small porch and lots of windows. A huge oak tree took up a big part of the front yard. Beats jogged around to the passenger door, opened it, and helped her out, a courteous gesture that surprised her.
“What?” He grinned. “I know my manners.”
He unlocked the door and drew her inside, into a small foyer. She had barely glanced around when he had her backed up to the wall, his body pressing hers and his mouth hard against her lips. One hand cupped her head, tilting it up to his while the other squeezed one cheek of her ass. Before she could think, he had his tongue in her throat and was grinding his hot cock against her pelvis.
Too much too fast!
Then he lifted his head, picked her up in his arms, and carried her down a short hall to a bedroom. Kicking the door shut, he stood her beside the bed and removed her clothes so swiftly and efficiently she wondered with a touch of hysteria how often he did this. Her blood was pounding in her veins, and she couldn’t catch her breath.
“Wait!” She tried to put some space between them. “Beats. Please. Wait, wait, wait.”
“For what? I’ve been thinking about this all day.” He closed his mouth over one nipple and sucked, hard.
Jill felt the pull all the way to her pussy, and for a moment, she lost herself in the sensation. But her fogged-out brain was telling her something wasn’t right here. Where was the build-up, the sexual tension, the teasing? She pushed hard until Beats was forced to take a step back.
“What’s the matter, princess?” He tried to pull her back to him, but she managed to sidestep.
“Can we, um, just take our time here a little? I mean, does the word foreplay mean anything to you?” This was not going at all the way she expected. Where were the candles and rose petals? The glass of wine? The soft background music? This felt more like sexual calisthenics.
“Why wait?” He looked at every inch of her from top to toes. “I like what I see, and I can’t wait to get at it with you. Feel my cock inside you.”
