by Linda Kage
A second later, I gave a low whistle. “Damn, these are amazing.”
“Ditto,” he murmured distractedly, too busy reading my work to talk.
I flipped the pages, growing increasingly stunned that he hadn’t already turned some—okay, most—of them into songs.
“Seriously, Asher. You have some wicked, awesome talent.”
“Hmm?” Distracted, he glanced up and right back down. Chewing on the end of his pen—something I totally did when I was stuck on a line—he returned his attention to my notebook. “Thanks, but I’m not writing worth shit these past few days. I keep getting stuck on this one line.”
“Oh, yeah?” I flipped to the last page. “Let’s see what you got.”
“Wait!” Tossing down my lyrics, he leapt off his bed and snatched his own from my hands.
I blinked at his sudden reserve. Then I grinned. “Oh, come on. Don’t hold out on me now. Sing me what you have so far.”
He shook his head. “I’ve never...I usually can’t sing my stuff aloud until I have an entire song fleshed out. It feels...weird.”
“Then speak it in words, because seriously, how the hell am I supposed to help if I don’t know where you’re stuck?”
“You don’t have to...” He must’ve read something in my expression because he gave a long-suffering sigh before he flipped through pages and silently read through the words. Then he shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t think I can just read it either. I’d have to sing it.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Then sing.” I knew the man wasn’t afraid to sing in front of an audience, but he suddenly looked uncertain.
He sent me an uncomfortable glance. “Don’t carp on me if it ends up sounding shitty, all right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Try trusting me a little more than that, will you? I know nothing’s perfect the first time though.”
“Okay, fine.”
And he started to sing.
In a cappella, his voice was beautiful. I wanted to crawl onto the bed with him, right into his lap and let him sing to me for the rest of the night...or my life.
But I was a good girl. I stayed back and merely bobbed my head to the beat, then reached out and tapped the rhythm with my bare hands against the top corner of the nightstand.
He grinned, obviously getting into the grove, and began to sway to the tune as he continued the song until he stopped suddenly and shook his head.
“And that’s all I got. That’s where I’m stuck.”
His words were still flowing through me, the melody catching fire in my blood. I kept tapping out the beat and sang, “Until the stars fade away and the day swallows the dark.”
Gaping at me, Asher blinked and jerked backward. “Holy shit.” If I hadn’t seen the shock so clearly on his face, I definitely would’ve caught it in his voice. “That’s...that’s perfect. How...?” He shook his head.
I gave a loose shrug and was glad he couldn’t see my blush from under my mask. “I was just finishing what you started.”
“Well, get your ass over here, Curran. We’re going to finish this song. Tonight.”
When I hesitated, he lifted an eyebrow as if to say, Well? What’re you waiting for?
So I heaved out a big sigh as if it were such a hardship, when really, I had to restrain myself from hopping over there too fast. Grateful I’d left on my man torso too—despite how uncomfortable it’d been to fall asleep in—I slipped out of my covers and eased gingerly onto the mattress beside him until we were sitting with our backs to the headboard and our feet stretched out in front of us.
I stole a second to watch my bare feet next to his at the end of the bed, poking out the ends of our surprisingly similar flannel pants. Except his feet looked decidedly larger—and male—next to mine, so I burrowed mine into the covers under me.
He noticed none of this, thank Dios, too busy frowning down at the notebook he was scribbling in. So I leaned in closer to study the lyrics with him, amused by how many times he marked stuff out, only to rewrite the same line and then mark it out again.
“Ooh, you could say something about everything being a lark to rhyme with dark.”
He tapped his pen against his chin as he glanced at me. “Yeah, that might wor—”
A loud sneeze cut off the rest of his sentiment.
I shook my head. “Do you realize you always sneeze when I get close to you? Geesh. It’s like you’re allergic to me or something.”
He chuckled as he leaned away toward his nightstand to snag a tissue from a nearby box. “Only if you’re made of latex.”
I froze, blinking at him. “Uh...what?”
“That’s the only thing I know I’m allergic to,” he answered between sneezes and nose blowing.
“Oh, shit.” I immediately scooted to the edge of the bed away from him, worried I’d kill him any second with my deceitful proximity.
He lowered a tissue from his nose, eyeing me curiously.
I gulped, not wanting the guy to end up dying around me or anything. So I blurted, “I’m wearing a latex mask.”
“Really?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he leaned closer to examine my face.
I reared backward. “What’re you doing? Don’t get close.”
He sniffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to kill me from just being near it. Just a couple sneezes here and there. I need skin-to-skin contact before it really does any damage with a rash and swelling. Unbelievable,” he murmured. “I had no idea. That thing looks so real.”
“I know. Gracias.” I patted at my face, still keeping a few feet between us but remaining on the same mattress. “So, latex, huh? That’s an usual allergy. I’m all boring with a common one: peanuts.”
He winced, making me edgy with how heavily he was concentrating on my mask. “No peanuts? That’s gotta suck. You know, if you’d be more comfortable taking it off, it’s okay. It’s only me around; I promise you I won’t freak out.”
Damn, that was a sweet offer. He didn’t try to pry and find out why I was wearing a mask or ask what kind of deformity I was hiding. He immediately tried to reassure me.
“Thanks, but...” I cringed. “Not tonight, okay?”
He nodded immediately. “Yeah, no problem. Whatever you want. I was just trying to tell you, you didn’t have to worry about me doing anything to upset you.”
“Gracias,” I repeated, touched by his compassion. I cleared my throat, feeling extra guilty about lying to him. Maybe I should just take the mask off and let him see the real me.
But then I remembered all the things he’d told me tonight; he’d feel extra betrayed if he knew I was really a woman now.
And I was too scared to find out how he’d respond.
Damn it. How the hell had I gotten myself into this predicament? Putting on a little disguise to get my dream to come true should never have had the power to hurt anyone else. But I had a sinking feeling it just might upset the one person in this entire situation whom I didn’t want to hurt.
I watched Asher as he read through our song, silently lip-syncing the words, and I tried to think up a way to tell him without him thinking I was a big fat liar. But nothing came to mind. Instead, another idea hit me.
“What about sex?”
He glanced up, startled. “What?”
“Condoms.” I rolled out my hand. “You know, your allergy. Don’t you have safe sex?”
Amusement lit his face. “They make non-latex condoms.”
“Do they? Oh.”
Shaking his head as if my shock was the most amusing thing he’d heard all day, he tapped his pen against the paper and glanced over the song as he said, “What do you think of this idea?”
So I concentrated on the new line he read off to me, trying not to pay attention when he ran a hand through his hair. But damn, I loved when Asher’s hair was all tousled and sexy. Made me want to sink my hands into its softness all over again, then rip my mask off, straddle his lap and experience some non-latex fun with him.
I d
idn’t, though. I kept my fingers to myself, made my own suggestion and didn’t mention a thing about my gender while we spent the rest of the night platonically on his bed, pounding out the rest of his song.
I’d just saved my work on my laptop when Sticks mumbled something in his sleep. Around four this morning, he’d crawled back to his bed, grabbed a pillow, and curled around it, closing his eyes as he helped me come up with a final line. Then he’d passed out a few minutes later.
But I couldn’t sleep. I was too psyched because we’d just finished something that had been taking me weeks to work through. So I’d dragged my laptop out of my duffle bag and pulled up my music program, hoping to concoct the perfect melody for the words.
Sticks had slept peacefully for the past three or four hours, but as he flailed out a hand and banged it against the headboard, he began to come to.
“Wha...?” he finally yelped and jerked his head up to gape at me from bloodshot brown eyes. His hair was full of bedhead, sticking out everywhere, and I had to wonder why he’d brought so many products for it now that I knew it was a wig connected to a mask. But hell, I knew nothing about wigs. Maybe you washed and gelled them like normal hair.
Then I wondered what the hell had happened to mess him up so bad he thought he had to wear all that. Poor guy.
“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, wiping a hand over his face as he sat up. “I can’t believe I fell asleep on you.”
“No problem.” I saved the file I’d been working on and then clicked into the play option so I could have him listen to it. “Want to hear what I’ve come up with so far?”
“Huh?” He blinked at me, still clearly half-asleep. “How long have I been out, what time is it, and how the hell can you still be this awake?”
I shook my head. “It’s a little after eight. You dropped off not long after four. And I suffer from insomnia, so...I don’t typically get more than a few hours of sleep at a time, anyway.”
He shook his head as if reeling and completely disoriented. I couldn’t hold in a grin as I said, “Listen to our song.”
I pushed play, and as the melody began on the digital program I had, Sticks squinted and cocked his head to the side as he studied the wavelengths playing across the screen. When I began to sing the lyrics we’d hashed out, his gaze veered to mine.
His mouth fell open as I made my way through all the verses. And as the last note rang through the room, he shook his head. “What...how...that was totally freaking amazing.”
I shrugged, even though the compliment made my chest compress with pride.
“No, really,” he told me. “How the hell were you able to come up with the entire melody in just a few hours?”
“It wasn’t a very complicated one, plus it still needs tweaking,” I assured, “and I still have to add other instruments. But this is a start.”
“You’re damn right it is,” he sputtered. “You’re a freaking genius. A musical genius.”
His praise made me feel funny, so I closed the laptop and stretched my arms over my head. “Actually, I’m starving. Want to head across the street with me to that Denny’s and load up on pancakes?”
“Hell to the no. I’m going back to sleep.” Hugging his pillow, he flopped back onto his mattress and yanked his sheets up to his chin. “I doubt Gally or Holden will be ready before noon, either, so don’t wake me until then.”
“Uh…we have to check out by eleven,” I reminded him.
He grumbled a curse and then mumbled, “Ten thirty then.” I thought he’d fallen back to sleep, but he added one last, “Love the song, by the way. I think it’ll be our next hit.”
I grinned and shook my head as his heavy breathing filled the room. I liked Remy Curran. He was strange, but funny as hell. It’d been nice writing with him last night. I’d never tried that with anyone before. He hadn’t been afraid to disagree with me, but unlike Gally, he didn’t get huffy and rude and push for his own way when I had another idea; he listened to my opinion and took it into consideration.
Non-Castrato had struck it rich when he’d showed up to audition for our band.
Whistling the melody of the new song under my breath, I dressed for the day, grabbed my key card and headed from the room, readjusting the blinds to the window so the ribbon of light coming through didn’t bother my roommate. Then I shut off the bedside lamp I’d kept on all night and left him to sleep while I sought food.
But no sooner did I cross the street and enter the restaurant than I remembered I’d left my wallet back at the hotel. Heaving out a sigh, I scrubbed my face with my palms. Thinking maybe I should’ve taken a little cat-nap too to recharge my brain, I scooted out from my booth, told my waitress I’d be right back, and then hurried outside into the crisp morning air.
It woke me up as I waited at the busy crosswalk for my light to turn, and then I jogged to the hotel and retrieved my key card from my pocket as I approached my room.
The light was still off as it’d been when I’d left a few minutes earlier, but the bathroom door had changed. It was shut most of the way so only an inch of a crack showed, revealing the light was on inside. The sounds of a shower and singing filtered out into the hotel room.
“...And a hug around the neck. A hug around the neck...,” a clearly feminine voice serenaded from the bathroom.
I froze, frowning hard, as the lyrics to Doris Day’s “A Bushel and a Peck” continued. At first, I wigged out, afraid I’d just entered the wrong room. I began to backpedal, afraid to be caught in someone else’s room, but then I wondered why my key had gotten me in. So I flipped on the light.
My laptop sat on my bed and the blankets on Remy’s side were rumpled and unmade. Plus his familiar suitcase and my duffle sat on the floor, so I knew I had the right room.
But who the hell was in our shower? From the sound of it, I would’ve thought Sticks had snuck in a woman, except he wasn’t into women.
Wrinkling my brow, I inched cautiously toward the crack in the bathroom door. Using the tips of my fingers, I reached out, standing as far back as possible, and gently nudged the entrance open. Steam exited, clouding around me as the woman’s voice grew louder.
“...You make my heart erect,” she continued to wail with a pretty decent set of pipes. I lifted my eyebrows, intrigued.
I have no idea why, but I said, “Remy?” I already knew that wasn’t him in there.
In answer, the woman screamed.
“What the—” Confused as all get-out as to what was going on, I reached for the shower curtain and yanked it open.
Inside, the naked, wet woman yelped again, instantly shoving one arm over her breasts and splaying her free hand between her legs to cover herself.
“Holy shit!” I gasped.
We gaped at each other, the water spraying down on her and forcing her long dark hair to clog into her face.
Rationally, I knew I should turn away, but yeah...for some reason, I’d kind of lost the ability to think rationally. Instead, I shook my head, and demanded, “Who’re you?”
She shoved her hair out of her face so she could see me, probably forgetting that she had to uncover her breast to use her hand, because suddenly, I was being flashed some very nice tits indeed.
My gaze instantly dropped to her chest, and she gasped, slapping her arm back over herself. A split second later, she snatched the shower curtain and wrapped it around her, concealing all the best parts.
“No hablo inglés,” she panted in this super-hot sexy voice that had my hormones raging even harder.
Ah, shit. I shook my head, still completely flabbergasted. “You don’t know English?”
“No.” She shook her head. “No hablo inglés.”
“Fuck.” I wiped my hand over my face, glad I hadn’t started drooling or anything, because...wow. There was a very hot Spanish-speaking chick in my shower. “Well, I know crap Spanish.” Glancing behind me, I muttered to myself, “Where the hell is Remy when you need him?”
Behind me, shower girl repeated,
“¿Remy?” I spun back to her and she babbled something in Spanish, her hand waving the entire time.
I blinked, understanding absolutely nothing. But she’d said Remy’s name, so I slowly asked, “You know Remy?”
She nodded, her eyes lighting with recognition. “Sí. Remy.” Then she spouted off something else. I was sure I caught the word amigo in there, so I snapped my finger.
“Amigo,” I repeated. Yes, a word I understood. “Friend. Okay. So...he let you in to take...a shower...alone?”
I squinted because there was no way that sounded as if it were even plausible.
“Dios,” she moaned, clutching the shower curtain closer to her breasts. Then she bit her lip and waved me away with a free hand, sputtering something in Spanish that went way over my head. But the shooing motion and desperation on her face made her plea obvious enough.
“Shit, sorry.” I suddenly realized how badly I’d been gawking. Lifting my hands, I backed up a step toward the half closed bathroom door behind me until I nudged it with my spine. “I’ll...let you finish.” But I couldn’t seem to take my gaze off her. She was just...stunning. “And I swear, I’ll look away...soon. Once the blood stops rushing to my dick and returns to my head and I can think rationally again, because...wow.”
Ah, hell, I’d just said that aloud, hadn’t I? Thank God she didn’t know English, though I swear she blushed as if she did. But then her eyebrows twitched with irritation and she blasted me with more Spanish, this time most definitely scolding me for being a creeper and still staring at her.
So I blew out a rattled breath and stumbled back into the hotel room, closing the bathroom door all the way to give her privacy.
But Jesus, that had been... Actually, I wasn’t quite sure what that had been, but it had definitely been intense. I wondered if I should be upset or indignant that some stranger was making herself at home in my hotel room, but then I remembered all her gorgeous nakedness, and yeah...I could summon neither emotion.
I paced the floor, running my hands through my hair, wondering what the hell was going on. Where was Remy and why had he let a hot chick into our room so she could shower...alone? Finally, I realized I could just ask him, so yanked my phone from my pocket and dialed his number. Across the room, The Bangles began to sing “Walk Like an Egyptian,” which must be his ringtone, because as I followed the source of the sound with my gaze, I spotted his phone sitting abandoned on his nightstand.
