Muse

by Alexa Riley

  Muse

  Alexa Riley and Fiona Davenport

  Contents

  HEA on the go

  Muse

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Built For Her

  Chapter 1

  Stalk the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Author Alexa Riley LLC. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to riley_alexa@aol.com

  http://alexariley.com/

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Cover Designer: Perfect Pear Creative Covers

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  Muse

  by Alexa Riley and Fiona Davenport

  Shelby Walsh is struggling to make ends meet. She spends her days doing singing telegrams for extra cash, but she never expected to be sent out to perform for the world’s most famous composer. And definitely not in a skimpy Greek goddess outfit. How is she supposed to keep it together when every part of her is screaming for him to take her?

  Theo Hayes is a recluse. He just wants to be left alone to work on his next big movie score. He’s even grumpier than usual because he’s in a bit of a rut. But when his brother sends him a singing telegram for inspiration, he finds his muse and plans to never let her go. Keeping her for his very own is the only option.

  Warning: We’ve teamed up with Fiona Davenport to give you an epic symphony for your lady business. What’s better than two authors working you over? How about four? If you want insta-love with all the safety and security of a happily ever after, then jump in bed with us. There’s room for more!

  Chapter One

  Theo

  I want to bang my head against a wall in hopes that it will crumble the barrier that seems to be surrounding my brain. The instruments in my studio are laughing at me, and the deadline clock sitting on the shelf above my equipment is silently judging me.

  “Fuck!” I bark as I push my chair back and stand up, running my hands through my unruly dark hair. A haircut is on my “to-do” list for when I finish the score for the newest movie projected to blow up the box office. That list just keeps getting longer and longer because for the first time ever, I am truly in danger of not meeting a deadline. I’m stuck and have no clue why.

  Between movies, television, and theater, I’ve written almost sixty compositions in the last twenty years. I was a child prodigy and wrote my first movie score at fifteen. I’ve won two Academy Awards, three Emmy Awards, one Golden Globe, six Tony Awards and eighteen fucking Grammy Awards. Yet here I am…unable to pluck out even one decent melody. I’ve never had a mental block like this, and I have no fucking clue what to do about it. This could be the end of the line for me. I think it’s passion I’m lacking. I have no idea how to make myself passionate about something. There just isn’t anything there when I try to reach it.

  My cell phone vibrates on the table, the screen lighting up with a picture of my little brother making a goofy face and the name “Hot Shot Movie Star.” I roll my eyes but a smile tugs at my lips. Clearly, Austin messed with my phone again the last time he was here. I can only imagine what other crazy nicknames he gave some of my contacts.

  Austin is incredibly intelligent, but his real talent lies in his charisma and sense of humor. It landed him his first role as the comedic sidekick in a television show at the age of seven. Since then, he’s been typecast in those roles, but it’s never bothered him. He’s no slouch in the looks department, and I imagine the millions he makes per movie and the multiple awards for Best Supporting Actor don’t hurt. Besides that, he thinks playing the sexy heartthrob is boring, and it saves him from having to do romantic storylines with sex scenes that could come back to bite him in the ass later on. That’s the other thing about Austin…he’s a hopeless romantic and believes in “the one.” I think he’s crazy. I need a relationship in my life like I need a hole in my head. But I keep that opinion to myself. While I might be a cynical grump, as he refers to me, I would never want Austin to change from who he is.

  He’s probably the only reason I ever laugh. Or leave the house. I freely admit to being a workaholic. I get lost in my music and once I hear it in my head, I can’t rest until it’s down on paper. Plus, I hate crowds, which is why I live an hour from the city on a couple of acres. I enjoy being alone.

  I swipe the screen to answer and he appears with a boyish grin. “How goes the mental block?” he asks by way of greeting.

  “Thanks for the reminder, asshole,” I sigh into the phone. “And hello to you, too.”

  Austin laughs, but then his face sobers a little. “Seriously, though, how are you doing? Any luck with the new project?”

  I shake my head and groan as I walk out of my studio and toward my house. I converted an old, unattached garage into my workspace when I bought the land because it was situated only fifty or so feet from the house.

  The afternoon sun beats down on my shoulders and I have to squint to see Austin on the screen. “I can’t seem to find any inspiration,” I admit with a shake of my head. For the first time in my life I feel lost. Or like maybe something is missing. What that is, I have no fucking idea or I’d go and get it.

  “And getting out of your house and maybe going on a date…? Have you considered that option?” Austin’s tone is humorous, but I know he’s only half-joking.

  “No, Mother,” I answer, sarcasm dripping from the words. “I don’t have time for social crap. People annoy me. And are a distraction. And I have work to do.” I reach my back door and type in the code before stepping into my kitchen. Austin snorts a response to my comment, but I ignore him as I set the phone on the counter and grab a water from the fridge. All that is true. It’s why I live all the way out here.

  “Making me stare at your ceiling won’t stop me from giving you shit.”

  “More like nagging.” I twist the cap on the bottle and take a deep swallow before picking up the phone and glaring at my brother. “Why do I need a woman in my life? I have you.” I chug back the rest of the water and toss the bottle in my recycle bin.

  “I don’t nag,” Austin defends with faked indignation. “Being right all the time and making sure you know it isn’t nagging.” His grin reappears, even bigger than before.

  Shaking my head, I walk toward the east wing of the house where the master bedroom is located. “Your head is getting too big for my screen, Hot Shot. I better hang up before you break my phone.”

  “Ahh, but
the ladies love all the big things about me.”

  It’s my turn to snort. I stop short and stare at my brother with a raised eyebrow. “How would you know what ladies love? You date about as much as I do,” I toss back at him. He’s always pushing me about my love life, but he doesn’t have one either.

  He doesn’t take the bait and just gives me another smile. But there is something about this one that is different. It’s almost…sly. And the sparkle in his eye starts to worry me. Austin can be impulsive—

  “What you need is a muse, big brother.”

  “I’ll make sure to request one the next time I have a conference call with Zeus,” I reply dryly.

  Austin chuckles, but then that mysterious smile returns. “Don’t worry, we already had a chat. Your muse should be there anytime. Oh, and I’m sending you some food so you don’t forget to eat.” The call abruptly disconnects before I can respond. What the fuck?

  I debate calling him back but decide I don’t care and toss the phone on my bed before padding over to my bathroom. Who knows what he’s up to and I know I wouldn’t be able to get it out of him if he is up to something. My muscles are stiff from spending so much time in the studio without a break, so I start the shower and wait for the water to warm up. Once the room is steaming, I strip and step under the hot spray, groaning at the feel of the heat on my aching body.

  Austin’s comments about a muse sift through my mind. His joke hits closer to home than he thinks. Over the years, I’ve been inspired by the idea of a muse. At times, I could have sworn I felt her hovering over my fingers, making the music magical, almost like a guardian angel. I’ve even dreamt of her from time to time. But the picture is never clear. I don’t know what she looks like, only that she also has a heavenly voice and a body that was made just for me.

  My cock stirs and I grunt with annoyance as I glare down at the stubborn fucker. Thinking of her is the only thing that ever gets his attention. Which means I’m basically lusting after an angel… I’m definitely going to hell.

  I adjust the temperature of the water until it’s frigid and some of the blood returns to my brain. After a minute, I shut the faucet off and step out of the shower, grabbing a fluffy black towel and wrapping it around my waist. Before I can take another step, the doorbell rings. Since the security team didn’t announce whoever it is, I assume it’s the food Austin said he was having delivered. He must have given them the security code for the front gate. I debate making them wait while I get dressed, but if the food is hot, I don’t want it to cool.

  The bell goes off again and I pick up my pace as I make my way to the front of the house. When I finally reach the door, I swing it open and all the blood in my brain drains south. “Who the hell are you?” I growl.

  I guess I was wrong. I made it to heaven after all.

  Chapter Two

  Shelby

  “Let me be your—” I cut off in the middle of the first verse of some corny song about muses as soon as I catch sight of the guy who opens the door. This kind of thing never happens to me. Some of my co-workers are embarrassed by the singing telegram gig and don’t give it their all, but not me. It might not pay a lot, but I’m doing what I love—what I was trained to do—and I’m always professional. Nothing distracts me from belting out whatever song the client picks out. Heck, I’m usually so focused that I barely pay attention to the person I’m being paid to serenade until I’m done and they’re thanking me.

  Not this time, though. This guy is impossible to ignore, and it’s not just because he’s wearing nothing but a black towel wrapped around his waist. At about six foot five with dark hair, brown eyes, tanned skin, and muscles on top of muscles, he’s the perfect example of tall, dark, and handsome come to life from the pages of a romance novel. Right down to that raspy growl of his voice.

  It isn’t until his eyes sweep down my body, taking in the skimpy outfit my boss shoved into my hands that I finally remember what he asked when he opened the door.

  “Who am I?” I quirk a brow at him and wave a hand at my barely there costume. “Obviously I’m Euterpe, the Greek muse of music, song, and lyric poetry.” My tone is tart. As if he should know. If he would have let me finish my song, maybe he would have figured it out.

  “A muse?” I swear I can feel his gaze on my skin as he drags it back up my body to meet my eyes. My heart gives a weird flutter. His full lips tilt up in a tiny grin that makes him more handsome. “I should’ve known.”

  Even though I gave him a little bit of a hard time about my costume being obvious, it really isn’t. Most people would probably assume I’m one of the better-known Greek goddesses like Aphrodite or Athena instead. I’m not sure why he thinks he should’ve known I was a muse, but I don’t get the chance to ask about it before a deep, male voice calls out from not too far behind me. “You need help with her, boss? I’m more than willing to take her off your hands. We can get together and make some sweet, sweet music, if you know what I mean.”

  All the humor in his eyes disappears as his gaze darts over my shoulder. He glares at the guy who made the sleazy comment and then reaches out to wrap his big hand around my arm. Before I know what’s happening, he yanks me into the house and slams the door shut behind me. I hear the sound of the lock click into place. He lets go of my arm a moment later, stalking over to a black leather couch.

  He grabs a cream throw blanket off the back of it and tosses it to me. I reach out to catch it out of pure reflex and look down at the blanket in confusion. I have no idea why he thinks I need it until he barks out, “You can’t walk around half-dressed like that.”

  “You’re kidding me, right? I’m not the one with a towel wrapped around my hips,” I mutter as I toss the super-soft material right back at him. “If anyone needs this, it’s you. Not me.”

  “You’d be right, except my towel covers a fuck of a lot more than that teeny tiny excuse for a dress you’re wearing.” He prowls back over to me, and his gaze drops lower. I’m fascinated by the way his eyes deepen to a shade that exactly matches the milk chocolate bars I’m addicted to.

  Considering he’s wearing an oversized bath towel around his waist, and my dress is more along the lines of a small shirt that barely covers my butt and my boobs at the same time, he’s definitely right. But that doesn’t stop me from opening my mouth to argue with him. He presses a finger against my lips and adds, “There’s also the fact that I could see your bra and panties.”

  “You can?” I yelp, grabbing for the blanket to wrap it around my shoulders and hold it together with a fist to my chest.

  “When you were standing on my porch with the sun streaming behind you? Hell yeah, I could.”

  “Oh.” I tighten my grip on the blanket, more than a little bit turned on by the idea of him seeing the white lace panty and bra set I put on this morning. I wonder if he liked what he saw. I didn’t know my boss was going to put me in a dress two sizes too small for me. I had no choice but to wear the thing. Most of the outfits from work are snug on me. I carry a little more weight than the rest of the girls at the agency, but I got the job because I could sing better than anyone else there. If I’d known I would be coming to a hot man’s door who would get a peek at them, maybe I would have worn sexier underwear. No, because I don’t own any. Also I would have chickened out.

  He shifts his gaze to glare at his door and growls, “And so could every other guy out there.”

  The thrill from a moment ago disappears because other guys checking me out isn’t a turn-on for me. This man, though, is different. I don’t know why, but I can feel it. I don’t know anything about him except that he lives in a huge house with a gate and security and someone in his life hired him a singing telegram. Which I really need to do so I can get out of here before I do something crazy like throw myself at him ’cause my mind keeps telling me to do that.

  I’m not looking forward to being half-naked as I make my way back home. I really should’ve crammed a jacket into my purse before I left the apartment.

&n
bsp; “Did you want to put something on before I finish my song?” I try my hardest not to stare at the black towel wrapped around his waist, but I fail miserably when it’s tented between his legs. Is he turned on? My sex clenches. Shamefully I know I’m turned on.

  “Your song?”

  “Huh?” I ask distractedly.

  “You said you’re supposed to sing something for me?”

  I jerk my eyes away from his dick and nod as my cheeks fill with heat. “Um, yeah.” What was I supposed to be singing? My mind tries to remember.

  A lock of his brown hair falls on his forehead when he tilts his head to the side. “I’d love to hear you sing.”

  “Right.” I take a deep breath to center myself. Get it together. I close my eyes because there’s no way I’ll be able to hit even half of the notes if I catch sight of the long, hard length pushing against his towel while I’m singing. It doesn’t help much since the sight is burned into my brain. I rush through the song, knowing it’s probably my worst performance, probably ever. I’m pretty sure I even cracked on the last high note. When I’m done, my eyes pop open and I find him staring at me. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps on staring at me.

  “Okay, so I guess I should give this back before I head out.” I unwrap the blanket from around my shoulders and try to hand it to him. I must have been so terrible I shocked him into silence.