Rock Steady

by Dawn Ryder

  Heck, bike accidents were a breeze compared to being in contact with Ramsey.

  And that was what scared her.

  Really, really bad.

  * * *

  There was more work to do than Jewel would have given rock stars credit for doing. Their arrival back at the hotel was brief, because the Toxsin crew was in full swing, preparing to depart for the arena. There was a neat line of black SUVs lined up to ferry the crew. Syon and Drake were waiting inside the lobby as hotel security stood in front of the huge revolving doors to keep the paparazzi outside. They were camped out on the sidewalk like a flock of pigeons.

  Actually…they were far more aggressive than pigeons, Jewel decided. More like the flocks of sulphur-crested cockatoos in Australia. Brenton slid up as they climbed out of the car.

  “Everything alright?” he asked.

  “No,” Ramsey said.

  “Stellar,” Jewel replied at the same time. Ramsey scowled at her, but Taz snorted behind her. Ramsey gave his bandmate an open-hand gesture that Jewel was pretty sure meant “What the fuck?”

  “Can you make the sound check?” Brenton asked.

  There was a definite business demeanor in the air. Ramsey looked at her. He felt responsible for her, and she could see that it wasn’t sitting too well.

  “I’ll be here…when you’re finished,” she offered, not entirely sure why she was feeling the need to smooth out the road. The impulse was just there, and the words passed her lips before she realized what she intended to do.

  Ramsey nodded. “Stay inside the hotel. I need to clue you in on how we roll. So you don’t walk into trouble.”

  “Got it.”

  The line of SUVs had been making steady progress. Pulling up, filling, and departing. Ramsey whistled at Syon, Taz, and Drake before the four of them fell into step together and left the lobby. They were lean and covered in leather. Even without their eyeliner, their personas were raw and over the top. The flock of waiting paparazzi surged forward, lifting their cameras and recording devices. Some of them were even perched on top of their parked cars to get a better camera angle. Questions were shouted out, the hotel security pushing people back who tried to step into Toxsin’s path. Private security held open the doors of the SUV as the band members climbed in.

  “Now that is the way to go to work.” She turned, making her way to the elevators.

  But she stopped two steps inside her room. There was an easel set up with a chair and a spotlight. Her sketch pad was resting on it, the unfinished piece just begging for attention.

  She didn’t ignore the call. It was like it was bottled up inside her, trapped behind her fascination with Ramsey. Only today, things were slightly different; she felt everything shifting and merging. She flipped the page and started a new piece, letting the extreme passion Ramsey triggered in her flow through her hand and onto the page.

  * * *

  “That’s a wrap, mates!”

  Ramsey set his guitar down, but not before he wiped the face of it off. The one-of-a-kind instrument was his prized possession, his drug of choice.

  The arena was full of union workers, securing the seats as others hung curtains around the walls for better sound acoustics. There was a team above them in the lighting, taking notes on the rehearsal.

  Ramsey let out a whistle. Syon did an about-face and came back toward him, Taz following. Drake crawled out from behind his drums to join them.

  “Quinn Morcant is already trying to contract Jewel.”

  Syon snorted. “He doesn’t waste any time.”

  “Is that who ran her off the road?” Taz demanded.

  “What the fuck?” Drake exclaimed.

  Ramsey shook his head. “Morcant’s a lot of things, but he knows business. He wouldn’t take a risk on Jewel being injured in something like that. Artists need their fingers. But the man’s reputation as an iron fist tends to drive those attempting to impress him to extreme lengths.”

  “You can bet he’s made good use of the time we’ve been here,” Syon said. “Bet he’s had a proposal delivered to her room.”

  Ramsey scowled. Brenton had joined them. “We should think about getting that art copyrighted. As it stands, Jewel has the rights to sell it. I’ll get Carl Pearson on it.”

  Brenton stepped back and pulled out his phone. It was the wise thing to do. The business-minded one. Logical.

  Jewel wasn’t going to like it.

  Ramsey tried to brush the thought aside, but it clung like static electricity, crackling when he tried to wipe it free and shocking him. But he got it, deep in his gut. The dragon was her baby, her creation. He knew what it felt like to push something out of his soul and see other businessmen like Morcant try and lock it up in legal mumbo jumbo.

  “You good with that?”

  Ramsey had to look at Syon for a moment before he shifted gears enough to respond to the question.

  “Yeah. Makes sense,” he replied. Not liking it didn’t mean he was going to let the dragon go. She’d made it for him. It was going to stay between them. She’d have to agree to joint custody. Because there was no way he was letting her do another one of them for anyone else. The thought pissed him off.

  “You look a little unsure,” Syon pressed.

  Ramsey shrugged. It was a habit, shrugging off inquiries he didn’t want to answer. His bandmates knew him well enough to recognize it.

  That served only to make him feel unmasked. It was unexpected. His gaze shifted back toward his guitar as he polished it to avoid the knowing looks of his buddies.

  Hell, they were so much more. They were the only ones on the face of the planet who understood him.

  And then, there was Jewel. With her desire to see him as something more than who he put out to the masses. It should have been pathetically simple to dismiss her ideas. Hell, he should be immune to caring about what people thought of him. His entire childhood had been an ongoing litany of lectures on his shortcomings. Tossing in the towel on giving a shit had saved what was left of his sanity and likely kept him out of a psychiatric ward.

  “It’s interview time, lads.”

  Brenton was back, the road manager performing his function of keeping them all on task.

  “Just enough time for a little makeup before the local stations get a crack at you for preshow publicity.”

  They filed off the stage, heading for the performers’ room behind it where the makeup stations were. Brenton fell into step with him.

  “Carl will have an agreement drawn up by the end of the week.”

  “Make it good,” Ramsey said, “for her. I don’t want to put the thumbscrews on her. No artist deserves to be tied up too badly.”

  “In the case of the dragon, it would be best if Toxsin controlled it,” Brenton argued. “Since it’s part of your public persona.”

  “Agreed,” Ramsey said. “But pay her what it’s worth to us.”

  The problem was, he wasn’t too sure how Jewel was going to react. The dragon was her baby. Asking her to sign away custody was asking for trouble.

  Isn’t that what you fucking want?

  A way to keep her from painting you like some damned hero?

  Sure. It was what he wanted.

  So why did it make him feel like puking?

  * * *

  Someone knocked on her door around dinnertime. Jewel looked up from her sketchbook, and her neck popped.

  “Delivery, Ms. Ryan.”

  A uniformed employee was on the other side of the door. Once Jewel opened it, she spotted the security guard standing behind him. A wave of fragrance hit her as the employee pushed a cart through the open door, with a huge vase full of flowers. There were pink and white star lilies, long-stemmed yellow roses, purple tulips, and all sorts of greenery. The employee moved it to the dining table, along with a covered plate and a letter-sized box.

  “Enjoy, Ms. Ryan.”

  “Oh…” Jewel went dashing to where she’d left her bag slung over the side of the sofa.

  �
��The gratuity has been provided,” the employee said before slipping through the door while Jewel was still fumbling with her wallet.

  The flower arrangement must have cost a fortune. At least in her budget zone anyway. She reached for the card nestled in the arrangement.

  I hope you will consider my offer.

  Quinn Morcant.

  The box had a lid that lifted off easily. Inside was a quarter-inch-thick contract offer. She lifted it out, reading through it as her curiosity grew. There was another knock on the door, and she opened it before looking. Her thoughts were on the contract.

  “Guess you’re enjoying Morcant’s offer.” Ramsey was looking past her at the flowers.

  “Ah…well, I mean, it’s the first time someone’s ever noticed my work on such a level,” she explained lamely.

  Ramsey reached out, and his hand stroked her chin. “I let you ink my skin. Put your mark on me.”

  His tone had deepened, becoming sensuous. His sudden appearance satisfied something inside her she hadn’t realized she’d been longing for. He looked past her at the easel and let out a low whistle.

  “That’s epic.” He moved closer to her work, studying it. She ended up smiling, because it wasn’t fake admiration.

  She knew the difference.

  “Come on.” He reached down and clasped her hand. She followed him down the hallway, her door closing with a bang before she managed a protest.

  “I don’t have my key card,” she said as Ramsey pulled her around a corner.

  “I’ll get on that,” Brenton said.

  She blinked at the number of people in the main hallway of the top floor. Crew members were carrying stuff around, wearing their black polo shirts embroidered with Toxsin Crew on the chest. Each of them had an identification card with their picture on it dangling from their shirt pocket. Along with the suites, there were large meeting rooms on the floor. One of them had the double doors open wide, music spilling out of it. Drake was sprawled out on a sofa with two girls dancing on the coffee table in front of him, their spike heels making clicking sounds on the glass surface.

  “Ramsey!” Female voices called from inside the room.

  Ramsey waved them off as he tugged Jewel around another corner and slid his key card through the lock on his suite’s door.

  He was being presumptuous, just tugging her along into his suite. At least, that was how she should have viewed it. The door closed, and the rest of the world was shut out, making her feel like she was in his private world, like he was sharing something with her.

  You’re really asking for it…

  Oh boy, was she. Problem was, she couldn’t seem to stop thinking of him the way she did. At this point, she might as well enjoy the ride.

  “Come here. I want to show you something.”

  He continued on to the large desk, past the small kitchen and dinette set. His suite had three full sofas in it and a great view of downtown Portland.

  Ramsey had stopped in front of the desk. There were three laptops sitting on it, their screens displaying pictures of Syon on top of her.

  “Oh…snap.” She leaned over to stick her face closer in some vain hope it wouldn’t be as bad up close.

  No such luck. All she gained was a good look at the headlines.

  Toxsin members brawl when Syon Braden cheats on new wife Kate…

  Marriage is no boundary for Heavy Metal Rocker Syon Braden…

  The honeymoon is over, Kate, make room for the new flame in Syon Braden’s life…

  “As you learned this morning, the paparazzi are voracious in their appetite for more,” he said from behind her.

  Jewel forced herself to take a deep breath and blow it out. She straightened up and turned to face Ramsey. “I haven’t given you enough credit.”

  “How so?”

  She blushed. “I saw this suite as an extravagance to feed your inner child. Truth is, you need a sanctuary.”

  His lips twisted. “My music is my sanctuary. I don’t give a shit about those camera jockeys. They can print whatever the hell they want, the wilder the better. There’s no one I care about impressing.”

  He was blocking her out again.

  Ha! Try shoving you out with a steel-toed boot to the ass.

  “Yeah, you’ve been making sure I know how little you care. Should have let me get my Voodoo doughnuts,” she said as casually as she could.

  “I didn’t keep you from them. That’s what this is about,” Ramsey fired back at her. There was a serious note in his tone that cut through everything else in the way that only reality could.

  Jewel cast another look over her shoulder at the laptop screens, making herself look at the reality of the world she was part of. At least for the moment anyway.

  “Got it,” she said as she returned her attention to Ramsey. The sight of him, with an open leather vest and nothing but lean, rippling abs, was counterproductive to rational thinking.

  But, well, truth be told, she liked that about him a whole hell of a lot.

  He raised an eyebrow at her. She realized her lips had twitched up. “It’s just the sight of you…and hard, cold facts…don’t…well…” She pushed her fingers together so they were interlaced. “Don’t really mesh well.”

  He grinned. That cocksure, devil-better-worry grin that set her blood on fire.

  “I promise, no more sightseeing on my own.”

  She started toward the door. Forcing her feet to move was damned hard when all she wanted to do was look at the silver bar piercing his right nipple.

  “Chicken.”

  A challenge. She felt it as much as she heard it, just as she felt him watching her with those midnight-black eyes.

  But she turned around and faced him. Ramsey stopped short, surprised by her about-face.

  “I don’t play games, Ramsey,” she said firmly. “You’re the one who doesn’t like the way I think. So stop toying with me. You brought me in here.”

  His expression tightened, becoming guarded, but there was a flicker of hope in his eyes that made her hesitate. “I want you to stay.”

  She scoffed at him. “I’m not willing to play by your party rules.”

  His lips twitched. “Damned shame.”

  She shook her head. “I disagree.”

  His eyebrows lowered. “How so?”

  “I think it’s a shame you don’t realize you are the man I think you are.” Counterchallenge issued.

  Her words hit him hard. She watched the impact, was pretty sure she felt it too. Their gazes locked, the moment frozen.

  He burst the bubble, lifting one hand and crooking his finger at her.

  He’d kiss her if she went to him.

  Hard, slow, and deep.

  Hell, I’d kiss him…

  The desire raged in her. His features softened with it. She’d never before been so aware of what another human being was thinking.

  Ramsey moved toward her, closing the distance, and she felt sure her feet were stuck to the floor. Her skin rippled with awareness of him, her heart hammering inside her chest as he stepped closer, closer, and finally stopped a single inch from her.

  “Don’t take Morcant’s offer. He’s going to use you like a captured chess piece. Nothing more than a prize with point value at the end of the game. That’s his world. The only thing that matters is winning.”

  His tone was husky but edged with hard warning. There was something there, some dark emotion that made her shudder, because she knew it revealed an old wound. The raw truth was in his eyes, a scant second of vulnerability flickering in his dark gaze before he cupped her chin and joined their mouths.

  It was a slow kiss. Ramsey took his time, tasting her as he teased her lips with his own. She felt herself melting and didn’t give a rat’s ass about what it meant, only that she was dissolving beneath his kiss.

  Shivering.

  Shuddering.

  Her damned nipples tightened. The intensity was off the scale. She rose onto her toes, seeking more. The moment her fing
ertips landed on his chest, he pulled away.

  He didn’t want to.

  Or maybe that’s just what you want to see…

  It probably was. And it was going to hurt a whole hell of a lot when she was disappointed. She turned around and pulled the door open. Fine, she was a chicken. But she suspected wearing the label would be better than trying to glue the pieces of her shattered heart back together.

  Ramsey punched the door, hammering it a couple more times before laying his head against it.

  Chapter 4

  Someone knocked on her door the next day.

  Jewel rubbed her eyes and laid her pen down. The contract offer from Morcant was spread out all over the table. She’d taken to sketching again as she tried to decide what to do about it.

  It was impressive.

  But Ramsey’s words were stuck in her mind. Getting caught in a crossfire wasn’t her idea of a good time. The moment Morcant realized she wasn’t going to be the right bait, he’d leave her to wither and die without a second thought. A contract was only as good as the marketing backing it.

  She looked through the spy hole in the door, surprised to see the drummer of Toxsin standing on the other side.

  “Morning,” Drake said as she opened the door.

  “Hi.”

  He had warm brown eyes with amber flecks, and a square chin. He was thick through the shoulders and sported a leather jacket made from a deep, port-wine-colored leather.

  “Voodoo doughnuts,” he said.

  “Excuse me?” Jewel asked, trying to decide what he was getting at.

  “I understand you were denied your prize yesterday. Drake is here to help you bring it in.”

  She smiled. “Oh yeah? Would that be Sir Francis Drake, by chance?”

  “None other.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Get some shoes on.”

  “You’re on.” She turned and went back into her room. Her shoes were under the table, and she grabbed her bag as she swept up her key card. They were in the elevator before she remembered the horde of camera jockeys waiting below. Her belly did a little flip as the elevator neared the ground floor.

  “No fear,” Drake said.