Rock Courtship: A Rock Kiss Novella

by Nalini Singh

  Noah had an excellent voice, but he didn’t add it to the music. “This one needs Fox’s lungs.”

  David agreed. They all had their talents and the lead singer’s voice was a force of nature. “Him and Molly, it’s serious.” Fox smiled at Molly with a possessiveness you’d have to be blind to miss—but it wasn’t only that; there was a raw tenderness there, something David wasn’t used to seeing in his friend’s expression.

  Making it though… it’d be a hard road for the two. Molly seemed to have a dislike of the spotlight, and no woman who was with Fox could avoid the cameras.

  “Never seen him like this about a woman,” Noah said, shooting an incisive glance at David. “Seen you like it about Thea though.”

  “Damn it, Noah. How the fuck do you do that?”

  Undaunted, Noah continued to play, his fingers dancing over the strings with an ease envied by millions. “You get this look in your eyes when you’re thinking about her,” the guitarist said. “So?”

  “So… I’m working on it.” But he’d have to wait, be patient. Much as he wanted to talk to Thea face-to-face, she was spending time with her family, and he wasn’t an arrogant ass, wouldn’t just fly in and invite himself to their home. Not only would that wreck her well-earned vacation, it would be shooting himself in the foot.

  For now, all he had were his words.

  In Rebuttal

  Introduction: In which I, David Rivera, prove that you, Thea Arsana, are so very wrong and should be with me.

  I agree that you’re brilliant at your work and certainly don’t need anyone to look over your shoulder, which makes my point: you are more than capable of handling a lover who is also a client.

  After all, it’s not as if I plan to walk into your office, stroll around to the back of your executive chair, and bend down to kiss your neck as I undo that sleek twist thing you do with your hair. Not that I’d blame me if I did. The length of your neck is so elegant that it’d be a crime not to kiss it, taste it, draw in your scent from the warmth of your skin.

  Even if I did give in to temptation, it wouldn’t be such a crime as long as I’d locked the door behind me. You could fix your hair with those neat motions you make that turn me on like nothing else. The only problem would be if I went further, if I ran my hands down your shoulders to cup your breasts while I kissed your neck and whispered in your ear.

  Do you think I could talk you into pulling the skirt of your dress up past your hips to expose your panties?

  What if I asked you to hook your fingers in the sides of the panties, tug them off? They’d tangle halfway down because I wouldn’t let go of your breasts while I sucked on your neck. I’d probably leave a mark and I agree that would be difficult to explain to your colleagues. Probably not as difficult as the sounds you’d make while you touched yourself… but maybe you’re quiet when you come.

  Not that it matters in this scenario. Because we wouldn’t be doing any of that in your office, despite how hard the fantasy makes my cock. I know exactly how seriously you take your work, and I take you seriously. Of course, if you decide to invite me to your office late at night after everyone else has gone home, then all bets are off. Until then, you don’t have to worry about me barging in demanding sex or anything else remotely personal.

  You can keep your private and work lives separate. So can I.

  In rebuttal of your evidence of musicians being a bad bet, I attach an article about two close friends. You might know Jack from his recent Oscar-winning song. Did you know he’s been happily married to his makeup-artist wife, Valerie, for twenty-nine years and counting? He also has grandchildren he dotes on. I know because he shows off their photos every time we meet.

  Jack and Valerie were high school sweethearts. They’ve been with each other since back when he was an electrician doing gigs on the side and she was a beautician. She still cuts his hair, and he still fixes her electrical appliances when they short out. They don’t do the industry circuit except for the odd event where, according to the attached article, they “like to dress up and party.” They arrive together and they leave together.

  I can also tell you they continue to laugh at one another’s jokes and hold hands like teenagers. Long-term relationships are possible. It all depends on the people involved. I can work hard. I know you can work damn hard. You’re also relentlessly stubborn and I say that as a compliment. Turns out so am I where you’re concerned.

  I figure that gives us as good or a better shot than most of making it.

  On to the other parts of your memo: I’m glad you think I’m sexy. And I am encouraged. Extremely encouraged. As for oral skills—I have my share, though you might have to give me some pointers the first few times so I can learn what makes you scream and come on my tongue. I wouldn’t mind instructions from you. I’m easy like that.

  Conclusion: I believe I’ve proven that neither the issue of faithfulness nor the fact I’m a client is an insurmountable obstacle. I await your response—and any pointers you’d care to share in advance.

  Chapter 5

  Thea was helping her mother in the garden when Marjorie ran out with her phone. “Thea!” her sister called out. “You got a message!”

  Glancing guiltily at her mother even as her heart gave a great big thud of a beat, Thea said, “I left it inside like I promised.”

  Lips pursed into a smile, Lily’s eyes danced. “Go, look. You’ll burst into flame if you don’t.”

  “I’ll turn it off next time.” Thea stripped off her gardening gloves with hands that trembled, her breath coming fast and shallow.

  “Don’t think I won’t hold you to it.” Lily’s smile deepened. “But not this trip. Not when you’re waiting for messages from this young man who makes you act as giddy and as silly as Marjorie and Ella.” Piercing love in her expression. “I’m glad to see the sparkle back in my girl’s eyes—and the flush back on her cheeks.”

  Those cheeks burning, Thea took the phone, then stared at her little sister until Marjorie threw up her hands and stalked back inside. “I didn’t peek!” she yelled over her shoulder before giving herself away with a giggle. “I couldn’t figure out your password!”

  The instant Thea confirmed the message was from David, she made her excuses to her mother and walked through the garden, past the bougainvillea-shaded table and the frangipani tree and down a gentle slope to the stream that ran through the back of her parents’ property. Anticipation hummed through her, the excitement stronger than anything she’d ever before felt.

  Sitting with her back to another papaya tree, her T-shirt and capris perfect for the balmy weather, she opened the message and began to read. The deeper she got into the memo, the more grateful she was that she hadn’t tried to read it near her mother and sister. Because the gloves were definitely off.

  God.

  Thighs clenched tightly together and teeth sinking into her lower lip, she fell back onto the grass and stared up at the exquisite blue of the sky until her skin cooled down, her pulse no longer askitter.

  Thea had always found David sexy. Even when she’d been happy with Eric, she’d admired David in an abstract way. She’d been in a relationship, and unlike her worm of an ex, Thea had taken the commitment seriously. Still, there was no law against appreciating a delicious package of man when he walked into her office with a smile that had always struck her as shy at the edges. However, beneath it was a calm, solid confidence that was incredibly attractive.

  What she could’ve never predicted was that he’d have this lusciously dirty streak. It made her wonder exactly what he’d whisper in her ear if they did ever end up in bed. Shivering at the thought, she started to read the memo again. Her breath was coming in short pants by the end. It took her over ten minutes to calm down this time, the mental visual he’d created—of what he’d like to do to her in her office should she give him the green light—making her so damp and sticky between her thighs that she had to sneak into the house and change her panties.

  That done, sh
e gave herself strict instructions to stop replaying the erotic fantasy in her head and returned to the garden. Of course, the order was far more difficult to follow than it had been to give, and Lily scolded her several times when Thea almost pulled out a flower instead of a weed. “Sorry, Mama,” she said and gritted her teeth in a vain effort to control her wayward mind.

  It kept whispering and wondering what David’s hands would feel like on her breasts through one of the simple, fitted sheath dresses she favored for work. Her breasts were small but sensitive and the idea of his hands on her… Oh man. Especially if he unzipped the dress, slid his hands inside and under the cups of her bra.

  She’d felt his toughened palm against her own when he shook her hand the first day they met, absently noted the calluses he’d mentioned in his first memo. To have those hands touching her, petting her—

  Thea bit back a groan.

  “Thea.” Her exasperated mother slapped a gardening glove lightly over her thigh. “What did that boy write to you that you’ve spent the past ten minutes staring at the same patch of dirt?”

  Going bright red, Thea stuttered to the point that she sent her mother into hysterics. Lily shook her head after she caught her breath. “Tell me about him.” It was a request, not a command.

  Thea blew out a breath, the heat yet in her cheeks and said, “His name is David.” Then, as they worked, she told her mother about how she and David had met, how he was part of Schoolboy Choir. “He has this smile. It just… gets me right here.” She thumped a hand over her heart. “Only…”

  “I understand, Thea.” Lily’s gaze was intent. “This is important and such things take time to get right.” A kiss pressed to Thea’s forehead. “If he is the right man, he’ll wait; he’ll understand the value of patience.”

  Thea thought of how patient David had already been and wondered how much more he had left in him. Would he wait for a woman who needed to have absolute certainty in her lover’s loyalty before she allowed herself to be vulnerable? Or would he decide it was all too difficult?

  It was tempting to pull the plug herself, stop the pain before it came, but she was no coward, and David’s honesty deserved her own.

  That thought in mind, she opened up her laptop after an early dinner with her family. Her intention was to write to David, but Imani was online, and Thea ended up chatting with her partner and best friend for a half hour—during which Thea admitted to her friend that something was going on with David.

  It’s new, she wrote. Just starting. Don’t tell any of the others, okay?

  Imani and Thea were part of the jokingly named Hollyweird Book Club. More wine-drinking and talking went on at their meetings than book discussion, but the friendships were rock solid. It wasn’t that Thea didn’t trust the four other women in the group—she just wasn’t ready for questions when she had no answers. Imani, in contrast, had known Thea since college, and was the only person who knew all of what had happened with Eric. She understood what Thea didn’t say.

  My lips are sealed, Imani replied now. But I have to say you have great taste. He’s scrumptious. Call me if you need to talk.

  Signing off soon afterward, Thea breathed deep and began typing.

  An Evaluation of Your Skills

  Introduction: In which I discuss your memo-writing skills.

  Firstly, for a rock star who doesn’t regularly write memos, you’re doing a stellar job. If I had to grade you, you’d receive an A+. Given your proven ability to master a new skill with such speed, I don’t think you need any pointers from me—oral or written. I have confidence you’d acquit yourself to an A+ standard should the hypothetical scenario in your previous memo ever come to pass.

  However, whether it will ever occur remains to be seen—because while I accept your evidence in rebuttal of my Will Taylor photographs, the fact of the matter is that you might find me easier to handle as a fantasy than in reality.

  Thea paused, her breathing choppy. It was so hard to write that, to lay her flaws bare, but she’d rather face that pain now, when she could recover from the hurt, than do it later, after David had won her heart. Eric had hurt her, really hurt her, but she was starting to understand that David could destroy her if she let him in and he turned against her.

  Getting up, she walked downstairs to the otherwise empty kitchen. Her parents were in the den and her sisters had left for a birthday sleepover. The faint sound of the television show her parents were watching kept her company as she made herself a cup of tea. As she waited for the tea to steep, she thought of Eric, of how it had all begun. He’d been an executive at a business that had contracted with Thea’s company to handle some PR, and Thea had been the contact person.

  When he’d asked her out, she’d had no reason to say no. Charming, intelligent, good-looking, Eric had appeared the perfect man. One date had turned into two, and then one day, they were engaged. There had been no fiery chemistry, but there had been what she’d believed was a deep friendship that showed signs of becoming love. That had been okay with her, more than okay. It was how her parents had fallen in love, and theirs was the most solid, most loving marriage she had ever witnessed.

  Thea hadn’t believed she was settling; she’d believed she was laying the foundations for a relationship that would last decades, becoming stronger with each day that passed. Only… it seemed Eric hadn’t wanted the same thing. He’d wanted the drama and the passion. If it had only been that, and if he’d been honest with her as soon as he realized he’d made a mistake in proposing, she would’ve released him from the engagement without any attempt at emotional blackmail. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be with a man who didn’t want to be with her.

  The Eric she’d originally fallen for, he would’ve been up-front with her. But something had happened to him during the time they’d been together. She didn’t know if he’d been weak beneath the surface from the start, or if it was seeing her increasing success that had created the fractures. He’d begun to resent her, until she no longer shared her successes with him, until the gulf between them grew and grew.

  His cheating had been ugly, but worse had been the hate she’d sensed in him.

  The idea that David might one day feel that way toward her was a horrible thing to contemplate. Tears burned her eyes. Because her friendship with David already felt deeper and more rooted than anything she’d had with Eric. And this time… this time, she felt the passion, the chemistry, experienced the racing pulse and the wildly thudding heart.

  It was a combination so powerful she knew her and David’s nascent relationship could either become her everything, or it could end up savaging her.

  Fingers trembling, she rubbed her hands over her face, then finished making her tea and, mug in hand, went back upstairs to her bedroom. Up here, she couldn’t hear the television, only the nocturnal insects outside the open bedroom window as she picked up the memo where she’d left off.

  …the fact of the matter is that you might find me easier to handle as a fantasy than in reality.

  I’m not just the woman you’d be sleeping with if I agree to a relationship. I’d also be the woman who works all hours and thinks nothing of taking a client call in the middle of a date. At times, I’ll be able to accompany you on tour, but many times I won’t. As a result, we’d have to deal with long separations that may make you question why you’re even with me.

  It would mean being physically frustrated for weeks at a time, and from your memos, it’s obvious you’re a man with a strong physical drive. Think about that, David. Really think about it—and about all those groupies who throw themselves at you. Will it be worth it to give them all up for a cold bed?

  Thea had to take another break, the idea of David with other women making rage bubble in her blood. She was in so much trouble if she was already having that visceral a reaction.

  Drinking her cooled tea, she put down the cup and made herself finish the memo.

  Unlike Jack and Valerie, we couldn’t avoid the industry circuit, since I h
ave to keep my finger on the pulse of that world. The pressures on us will be continual and intense—to manage it, we’d have to be willing to not only work hard, but to stick it out even when it would be easier to walk away.

  You could find a woman outside the industry. I could find a man who doesn’t live in the media spotlight. There would be no dual pressure—we could go home and switch off instead of having to consider how outsiders might scrutinize our every move.

  In conclusion, I say that while the play might be fun and exciting, it’s everything else that could screw us up. We could lose our friendship and gain nothing.

  Thea hesitated after typing the last word. If she sent this, she shoved everything up a notch, made it serious… but had it ever been anything else? No. She pushed Send.

  Ten minutes afterward, she received a message.

  Thea, you might be my fantasy, but you’re also the woman I’ve seen up at 3 a.m. to deal with media drama. I know who you are. And…

  A second message followed in another few minutes—David really was adorably slow on his phone.

  …bodies aren’t interchangeable for me. I want you, no one else. I’m so gone on you I haven’t slept with anyone since I asked you out. It’s not hard to say no when the woman isn’t you.

  Sniffling and smiling and feeling as if her blood was made of honey, she composed her response: It’s your turn to write a memo. Then, because he’d given her words that went a long way toward healing the leftover hurt inside her from Eric’s hate, added: xx

  Pushing Send, she knew she’d just given the green light to a relationship that already felt passionate in its power—despite the fact she and David had never exchanged a single real kiss. Her skin grew tight at the thought of kissing him, of feeling his lips on hers, his body hard and warm against her own.