Rock Angel (Rock Angel Series Book 1)

by Bogino, Jeanne

  Eventually they ventured out. They inspected a display of custom-painted Harleys, watched a Hot Leathers fashion show where he insisted on buying her a buttery soft, lace-up corset, and went to an afternoon Molly Hatchet concert. Afterward they had a candlelit dinner at an elegant bistro in the historic district. Quinn ordered pasta for two, an exotic dish with salmon and pancetta, and a champagne that even Shan’s inexperienced palate could tell was something special. Later they made love on the beach, swathed in sheltering darkness.

  They whiled away one morning at the hotel pool, lounging on beach recliners and reading in companionable silence. At one point Quinn was quiet for so long—not even the crackle of a page—that Shan thought he was asleep. When she looked over, she saw he was watching her through his Ray-Bans, his sci-fi novel facedown on his chest. “What?” she asked.

  He smiled. “I like this. That’s all.” He turned back to his book and she was suffused with a warmth that she knew wasn’t coming from the sun.

  It was the most idyllic, romantic week of her life. Like a honeymoon, she thought wistfully, and like a honeymoon it passed much too quickly.

  “What do you think the others will say?” Shan said, as they packed up their odds and ends the night before they were due to report for the concert. For the two-hour drive to Orlando, they’d swapped the rented Harley for an extremely cool Mustang Shelby convertible.

  “About what?” Quinn asked, struggling to zip her suitcase. It was a tight fit.

  “About us. They’re going to torture you once they realize we’re together,” she predicted, chuckling. “Especially Ty. I hope you’re prepared.”

  Quinn looked up. “They can’t find out. Not now, anyway.”

  She stared at him, taken aback. “How’s that going to work?”

  “We’re going to keep it just between us.” She frowned, but he was resolute. “It’s the best thing, angel. There’s no point rocking the boat in the middle of a tour.”

  “But nothing has changed as far as the band.”

  “That’s not entirely true,” he said. “What you and I do impacts everybody. If anything ever split us up, that’d be the end of Quinntessence.”

  “That’s been true all along, though.”

  “I know,” he said, opening the bag back up and extracting her motorcycle boots, “but there’s a lot more potential for problems the way things are now.” He looked up and noticed her troubled face. “Don’t get freaky. Nothing is going to happen to us.”

  “Then why are you worried about it?”

  “I’m not. I’m only worried about dissension in the ranks.” And he zipped up the bag.

  His insistence on secrecy bothered her more than she let on, but she went along with it. They rejoined the others in Orlando, where they played to a packed arena. Already high on love, Shan was incandescent and the sheer dynamism of her performance galvanized the others. They brought the house down, performing three encores before the delighted crowd would let them leave the stage.

  Her bandmates were nearly as enthusiastic as her audience. She squeaked in surprise when Ty and Dan twirled her between them. Then Dave kissed her full on the mouth, proclaiming her the guitar glamazon of all time. Quinn observed the kiss narrowly, signifying his own approval with a surly nod, but later he made love to her for hours.

  The tour continued, looping from Orlando to Tallahassee, up the coast to Atlanta then west to Birmingham, Jonesboro, and Kansas City. The cities blended together, since they were never in any one of them for more than a day.

  Shan and Quinn continued to book separate hotel rooms. At first Shan was forlorn at the thought of sleeping without him, but he tapped on her door on the very first night, after the Orlando concert. She never said a word, never made any demand or expressed any expectation, but there he was, every night.

  They spent hours engaged in protracted, delirious lovemaking. She couldn’t get enough of Quinn’s talented mouth, his lean body and sure, sensual touch, and he seemed equally bewitched by her. Often it was dawn before they fell into an exhausted slumber and when she woke he was always gone, back in his own room to dress and pack before they reconnected at breakfast.

  Before long the lack of sleep was taking its toll and Shan took to napping on the bus. She spent so much of their travel time sleeping that Dave asked if she was okay.

  “Fine,” she replied, stifling a yawn. “I don’t sleep well in hotels.”

  “You’re not the only one,” Ty said, nodding at Quinn sprawled out on the couch beside him. His eyes were closed but she saw the ghost of a smile materialize on his lips. When she looked up, she saw that Dave had noticed it, too. He was frowning when he went back to practicing tremolos on his Cordoba and kept shooting suspicious looks at Quinn the rest of the way to Denver.

  As she dressed for the show, Shan reflected that the lack of sleep wasn’t affecting her appearance. On the contrary, she knew she’d never looked better. Part of it was their success, she supposed. The concerts were heady stuff; people screaming her name, singing along with their music, roaring for encore after encore. They even had their own security squad traveling with them now, a group of guards tasked with controlling the crowds that formed around them wherever they went. She was still on a strict beauty regimen, too, but she knew that wasn’t the only thing responsible for the glow in her skin and the shine in her eyes.

  It was Quinn and the knowledge that he was her Quinn, now. She was overcome with love, flush and replete with it, yet in some ways their relationship was remarkably unchanged. They still fought over the set list, bickered when they composed, whiled away hours on the tour bus debating the musical virtuosity of Dream Theater versus Guns N’ Roses. All that was the same as it ever was, easy and familiar and supremely comfortable.

  And there was the intensely hot sex. It was a period of eroticism unlike anything Shan had ever experienced and she bloomed in it, acquiring a new sensuality that was fresh and earthy, her eyes holding a look of shared secrets. Quinn saw it, too. She’d catch him looking at her, his own eyes scorching, and it would be torture to wait until after the show, when they could be alone.

  When they reached Reno, Shan’s room had a panoramic view of the strip, a hot tub as big as a small pool, and a trampoline-sized bed with a mirrored ceiling. At lunch, she slipped into the seat next to Quinn. “Wait until you see my room,” she said, speaking in an undertone even though Dave and Ty were up at the buffet.

  “I know. It’s the honeymoon suite. I requested it. I can’t wait to see what you look like in that mirror,” he added, “all spread out and wide open for me.”

  Shan felt every bit of heat drain from her body to converge in her groin. He was so dirty, sometimes, so hot and lusty and unabashedly erotic. It never failed to rouse her, his utter carnality.

  Under the table, she felt his hand between her legs. He leaned close, bringing his mouth against her ear. “Just wait, angel. I’ve got plans for this luscious little pussy.”

  “Shan!”

  She leaped and Quinn’s hand speedily disappeared from between her thighs. Denise was charging across the dining room, hauling Dan behind her. She’d flown in for the show and she was laughing and chattering as she threw her arms around Shan. “Let me look at you.” She held her back, hands on her shoulders, and frowned. “Why are you all flushed? Are you sick?”

  “It’s because of me,” Quinn said. “I don’t like the way she’s been doing that solo on “Black Mile” again and she doesn’t like me telling her what to do.”

  “Oh, get off her back! Let’s go shopping after lunch. It will give you a break from Quinntila, which I’m sure you need,” Denise said, taking the seat on the other side of her. When Shan looked at Quinn, he was frowning down at the Wall Street Journal, but again she spotted a trace of a smile.

  “Wow!” Dan exclaimed when Shan walked into the greenroom. “New look, hey?”

  Quinn looked up, his eyes widening when he saw the slinky black dress she’d opted not to wear for their Troubadour sh
owcase more than a year before. “Where did that come from?”

  “I asked Denise to bring it. I thought it was showgirly, appropriate for Reno.” But, more than that, she knew it was sexy. For the first time, she felt comfortable with that. She spun, the gauzy panels of the skirt spreading like the petals of a flower. “What do you think?” she asked her bandmates.

  “Hot!” Ty declared.

  “Awesome,” Dave said, his approval transmitted by a wolfish grin. Quinn frowned.

  The crowd appreciated her attire as much as her bandmates did and she was electrified by its energy. She was soaked with sweat by the end of the show and headed backstage to freshen up.

  She yelped when someone grabbed her, pulling her into an empty dressing room. It was pitch black and she felt a jolt of fear but only for a moment, because she recognized the hands, the mouth immediately. “What are you up to, Q?”

  “It’s such a turn on, knowing every guy in the place wants you,” he breathed in her ear, “but that I’m the one who’s going to have you.” His lips slithered down her body and she felt his hands under her skirt.

  “What if someone comes in?” she asked, even as she shifted to give him easier access.

  “We’ll be quick. You’re not attached to these, are you?” His hands were between her legs, massaging her through her black hose. He didn’t wait for an answer and she felt his thumbs pop through the nylon, tearing it open. She fumbled at his fly, then he was hoisting her into the air, her back braced against the wall, and with a powerful thrust he was inside her.

  His hips swiveled as he rammed into her and the unbelievable pleasure of it made her gasp, bringing her knees up under his arms. Just as she felt a climax coming on the door burst open, then slammed shut as two squirming figures collided with them, obviously intending the same sort of act that she and Quinn were engaged in.

  Quinn let go and Shan landed on her feet as he pulled out of her. “Do you mind?” she said sharply. “This room is taken.” All movement ceased. For a moment, there was silence.

  Then, “Shan?” A familiar voice.

  Shan gasped as the lights came on, revealing Denise and Dan, and Quinn leapt away from Shan as if she’d burned him. Denise’s mouth fell open and Dan looked startled, as well.

  He was the first to recover. “Er, sorry. Didn’t mean to barge in.” When he looked at Shan, his eyes averted quickly and she realized that the top of her dress was pushed to one side.

  As Shan tugged her dress back into place Denise opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she opened it again. Still, nothing came out. She appeared genuinely speechless.

  “We’ll find another room,” Dan said, grabbing his wife and pushing her out the door. He reached for the light switch and they both saw his broad grin before the room went dark.

  The next morning, Shan had to practically drag Quinn downstairs for breakfast. “You’re acting like a five-year-old who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar,” she told him.

  “That would be better than where it was,” he groaned.

  Shan rolled her eyes and, when they arrived in the dining room, they found a fairly normal conversation under way. Ty and Dave were chatting about some baseball game. Dan and Denise were whispering and holding hands, all lovey-dovey.

  Then Denise looked up, saw them, and went gimlet-eyed.

  Quinn quickly focused his attention on the newspaper, but Shan smiled at Denise as Dan went up to the buffet for seconds. “Did you have a nice night?”

  “Very,” Denise replied. “Did you?”

  “It was fine,” Shan said, which wasn’t entirely true. The sumptuous room had been wasted on her and Quinn last night because, for the first time since Daytona, they’d gone to bed without making love. “My room is really nice,” she added, just for something to say.

  “I’m surprised you noticed,” Denise said. “Did you see any of it except the ceiling?”

  Quinn slunk farther behind the newspaper, but Dave was suddenly attentive. “What’s this?” he said. “Did our little glamazon get some action last night?”

  “No,” Shan said, frowning at Denise.

  Denise lifted her eyebrows. “Really? That’s surprising. I’d think sex would be about the only thing you’d get out of him. Right, Quinn?”

  “Just for once,” Quinn said from behind the paper, “could you mind your own business?”

  “You never hold back,” she said. “Why should I?”

  Quinn lowered the newspaper. “I don’t give a shit what you think, that’s why.”

  “I couldn’t care less about you,” she told him. “It’s Shan that I’m worried about.”

  Shan began to speak, but Quinn talked right over her. “Shan is perfectly fine,” he said.

  “I doubt that, even though you might have her sweet-talked into believing she is. We all know how thick you can lay it on when you want something bad enough. How fine is she going to be the first time you have a craving for one of your frequent flyers?”

  “Shut up, Denise,” Quinn said and this time his voice shook.

  “How could you do this to her? I can’t believe what a selfish prick you are, Quinn.”

  “And I,” he shot back, “can’t believe what a loudmouthed, meddling cunt you are, Denise.”

  “Stop it! Both of you!” Shan begged as Dan returned to the table, his plate piled high with waffles and eggs. He surveyed the uncomfortable scene and looked at Ty. “Did I miss something?”

  “I think we all did,” Ty said, looking mystified.

  “Your best friend,” Denise informed Dan, “just called me a cunt.”

  He looked at Quinn, a rare frown crossing his amiable features. “Dude, you called my wife a cunt?”

  “She deserved it, sort of,” Shan said. “Now, can we drop the subject, please?”

  “I’d rather not,” Ty said. “I hate to miss a drama.”

  “You’re not,” Denise said. “It’s going on right under your nose.” Shan winced and put her hand up, as if to deflect further attacks, but Denise was on a roll. “And you,” she said to Shan. “What’s wrong with you? How can you possibly sleep with Quinn, with all you know about him?”

  “I knew it!” Dave burst out. “Goddammit, I knew it!”

  Quinn closed his eyes, dropping his head against the back of the seat.

  “I had a feeling that’s what happened, that you waited until the rest of us weren’t around and crawled into bed with her. What about the rule?” Dave demanded, his eyes narrowing.

  “Which one?” Shan asked, going through them in her head. Quinn had so many of them.

  “The one that puts you off-limits. No diddling the guitar goddess, to use his exact words.” Dave jerked his thumb in Quinn’s direction. “A rule that apparently applies to everybody else!”

  “Oh, get over it, Dazz,” Quinn shot back. “She never really wanted you to begin with. What makes you think she’d want you now?”

  Dave’s face went crimson. He rose, stalked out of the dining room without another word, and Denise stood as well. “Let’s go,” she said to Dan. A naked note of authority rang in her voice.

  Dan trailed submissively after her, looking back regretfully at his full plate, as Shan turned on Quinn with blazing eyes. “Is that the truth? Have you really been dictating who I can go out with behind my back?”

  “It’s just logical, from a professional standpoint. I’ve heard you say yourself that you don’t think it’s a good idea to date a bandmate.”

  “Bullshit! You obviously don’t have a problem with it as long as the one I’m dating is you! Now that you’ve finally got around to it, that is.”

  He paused and she could see that she had him there. “You’re overreacting—” he began.

  “Save it.” She got up from the table and he rose, too, catching her arm.

  “Oh, chill out, angel. There’s no reason to go storming off.”

  “I need to get away from you,” she said, pulling her arm out of his grasp, “because I could punch you,
Quinn. I really could.” He watched her escape into the lobby in the same general direction as the others, then turned as a deep chuckle emanated from behind him.

  Ty was still sitting at the table, eating steak and eggs and observing with amused eyes. Quinn scowled. “I thought you went out with the mass exodus.”

  “Nope,” Ty replied, slicing off another bite. “Hell, I’d have paid to watch this!”

  Quinn beckoned a waiter for a Bloody Mary, then he regarded Ty with suspicion. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Go ahead, let me have it. I know you’d never miss a chance to tell me what a dick I am.”

  “I don’t think you’re a dick. Well,” Ty qualified, “you are sometimes, but I don’t think it applies here.”

  “You hold the minority opinion.” The waiter brought Quinn’s drink. He took a long slug.

  “Dan doesn’t think so, either,” Ty said. “He just won’t say it while his old lady is so steamed up. And Dazz is jealous. You hit that one right on the head, although you could have stated it a little more tactfully. Tact,” he added, “has never been one of your strong points.”

  “Give me a break. What kind of a loser would moon after the same chick for—how long has it been? Two years, almost.”

  Ty’s face split in a delighted grin. “I don’t know what kind of a loser would do that, man. Why don’t you tell me?”

  Quinn took another slug of his drink, refusing to take the bait. Then he regarded Ty thoughtfully. “So you’re cool? You don’t have a problem with this?”

  “What difference would it make if I did? Would it change anything?” Quinn didn’t reply. “That was always a good point you had about hookups inside the band, though. You might want to keep it in mind.”