“Riley!” she cried. “Oh my goodness! You didn’t have to—” Stopping, Savannah looked past him back into the kitchen.
“I assure you I made this myself. No one cooks in my kitchen except me.”
She smiled as he took the seat opposite hers at the table. “I am thoroughly impressed. Seriously. I was expecting pizza or maybe some sandwiches.” Picking up her fork, she moved her rice around a bit. “Now I feel bad I don’t have more snacks to share with you!”
He laughed along with her. “Well, we do have a month together. I can’t guarantee a meal like this every day, but once in a while, it’s nice.”
“You really didn’t have to,” she said sincerely. “I would have been fine with anything.”
“Yeah but then I might have ended up lumped into a category with some of your less hospitable subjects. I couldn’t have that,” he teased.
“No doubt of that happening now,” she said as they both began to eat.
The conversation over the meal covered a wide range of topics—the weather, real estate, sports, and current events—everything except anything of a personal nature. Riley thought it was interesting how Savannah managed to keep them talking without making it feel like they were on the clock.
Sitting back in her chair, Savannah put a hand on her belly. “My God, Riley. That was amazing. If you tell me you do your own laundry and clean up after yourself, I may ask you to marry me.” She laughed at the statement and then seemed to realize what she’d said. “I mean… Crap. I just meant…”
It would have been fun to tease her a little but he decided to put her out of her misery. “It’s okay, Savannah. I’m not going to hold you to it.” He stood and collected their plates before giving her a sexy grin. “Although—for the record—I do my own laundry, I clean up after myself, I love to vacuum, and I can bake brownies that are so good they’ll make you weep.” With a wink, he turned and walked back into the house, fighting the urge to look back and see her reaction.
* * *
The urge to fan herself was nearly overwhelming. On shaky legs, Savannah got up, walked back into the house, and got her gear. Riley was cleaning up the kitchen and she called out to him, “Where would you like me to set up?” Then she groaned because her mind instantly went to the gutter and she easily imagined them sitting in bed talking.
Right. Talking.
“The living room is fine,” he replied. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be done.”
“Okay.”
Walking into the living room, Savannah couldn’t help but react as she had to everything she’d seen so far with this house. The entire back wall was glass—custom sliding doors if she wasn’t mistaken—and offered another way out onto the deck as well as the view of the city. “Damn.” She sighed and forced herself to get set up.
There were two massive black leather sofas and she chose the one with its back to the view because she didn’t want to be distracted. She set up her laptop, immediately noting the proximity of the nearest outlet should she need it, and then got all her writing paraphernalia set up. A quick test showed that her digital recorder was ready to go, and Savannah sat back and waited.
Riley walked into the room carrying two large glasses of water with lemon wedges on them. Savannah instantly reached for the coasters and set them out before thanking him for bringing the drinks in. For a minute, she expected him to sit beside her, but was a little surprised when he took a seat on the other sofa.
O-kay.
In faded blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and bare feet, Riley Shaughnessy still managed to look good enough to eat. That in itself annoyed her. Guys like him were used to women drooling over them, and she’d basically been doing exactly that since she arrived. He looked relaxed and at ease, and Savannah figured he was feeling pretty confident that she was wrapped around his finger.
And she almost was.
But Savannah was nobody’s pushover. This story was going to give the world a look at the Riley they’d never been privy to before. She wasn’t going to coddle him and she wasn’t going to do him any favors. Sure, the lunch was good and he was easy to talk to, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t going to go for the jugular in order to get a legit answer out of him.
“Ready when you are,” he said with an easy grin.
I’ll bet, she thought. “Do you mind if I record?” she asked, holding up the small digital recorder.
“Not at all.” Another easy grin as he put his feet up on the coffee table and seemed to get even more comfortable.
With everything in place, Savannah straightened, smiled, and hit record.
“Rumor has it the new album is in trouble. You can’t write, you can’t sing, and you’re essentially blocked and refusing any help. That suggests a huge ego issue. How do you respond to that?”
* * *
White-hot rage filled Riley instantly at Savannah’s opening question, but to his credit, he kept his smile in place. He had thought they had started to develop a good rapport—that maybe they would ease into the tougher questions. Clearly he was mistaken.
Rather than bring that up or dispute what Savannah was asking—which no doubt she was expecting of him—Riley reached out, picked up his glass of water, and took a sip. It was a stalling tactic and he was certain Savannah was aware of it, but she seemed to be content to wait him out.
“Everybody has an ego, Miss Daly,” he began. “Artists and musicians are no different. The issue with the new album, however, has nothing to do with ego. I made a commitment to my fans to put out a quality product. If I were just to throw some filler songs on the album, I would not only be letting my fans down, but letting myself down.” He shifted in his seat. “Tell me, out of your music collection, how many albums would you say you enjoy listening to from start to finish?”
“When I put music on, I have a playlist and I let it play.”
He shook his head. “That wasn’t what I asked. I’m not talking about putting a playlist together of your favorite songs. I’m talking about a specific album by one group or artist. Do you normally put one on and enjoy every song on it?”
“I don’t think anyone can really say yes to that. Some songs resonate with some people, while others don’t. And just because I may or may not like a specific song on an album doesn’t mean it’s not a quality song.”
“Touché,” he said with a nod. “However, you still haven’t answered the question.”
“I don’t believe that’s how this works,” she challenged. “I’m here to interview you. This story is about you, not me.”
“And I can appreciate that, but I think it’s only fair I be able to defend myself. Especially if you’re going to argue my responses.”
“I didn’t think I was arguing,” Savannah said simply.
“Then answer the question,” he said with a grin that now felt forced.
She huffed loudly. “Okay, fine. In my mind, I honestly can’t think of one album I own that I listen to from start to finish. I’d say half of the music is good and the rest just feels…” She shrugged.
“Exactly!” he cried with a clap of his hands. Leaning forward, Riley put his feet on the floor and rested his elbows on his knees. “Now I’m not going to lie to you, the first six songs were ones I had been playing around with for a while before I hit the studio. And then I hit a wall.”
Her eyes went wide as if she wasn’t expecting honesty.
“In my head, I know what I want. I…I can almost hear it,” he said with frustration. “But for some reason, I can’t seem to get it to come through that way when I play it.”
“What is it you’re trying to do? Is this new music different from what you were doing with the band?”
“A little,” he replied. “I wanted something softer, a little less edgy. I love the heavy sound the guys and I do together, and I know the fans do too. But if I want this to be a solo project, I
can’t simply play the same music. There has to be a difference.”
“And I’m sure fans will appreciate that, but how long are they supposed to wait for this music? At what point do you say it’s just not going to happen and move on?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t hit that point yet.”
Savannah studied him for a moment, and Riley knew she was gearing up to hit him where it hurt. “Rumor has it your label is almost at that point.”
Ouch.
“Rumors rarely resemble the truth, Miss Daly.”
“Are we going for formality, Mr. Shaughnessy?” she challenged with a hint of amusement.
“I hadn’t thought we were, but as soon as we sat down and you started recording, all traces of my charming lunch companion disappeared. I figured I’d just go with the flow.”
He knew his snarky comment hit its mark because Savannah physically winced. Part of him felt guilty, but he certainly wasn’t planning on sitting here in his own home and letting her simply attack him until they called it a day.
Then, in an act that surprised him, Savannah leaned forward and shut off the recorder.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“I thought that’s what you were doing all along,” he said mildly.
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, let me rephrase that. Can I ask you something off the record?”
For a second, fear and panic threatened to overwhelm him. He had no idea what she was going to ask, but it didn’t bode well that she shut the recorder off before she did. Looking over at her, he noticed the anxious look on her face. All he could do was nod.
“Can I hear the new music? I mean, the stuff that’s finished already.”
Wow. Riley had thought this might come up over the course of their time together, but he’d hoped they’d be further along in the interview before it did.
“Look,” she said softly, “you don’t know me and I get it. Most people in your position wouldn’t want just anyone hearing their new stuff—especially if it wasn’t polished and ready to hit the shelves. But…this is something that’s going to keep coming up throughout the whole interview process. The new music. You don’t have to play it all for me. Maybe just one song. I’m trying to get an understanding of where you’re at right now musically.”
He still couldn’t speak. This whole process with the album had been a very personal one. No one except his management team and the people he trusted at the label—and of course his family—had heard any of the new music. Could he possibly let Savannah hear it?
“Tell you what,” she finally said. “Why don’t you just think about it? I love all genres of music. I have very eclectic taste, and I promise to keep an open mind.”
“I…I just don’t know, Savannah.”
“Just…just promise me you’ll think about it.”
The thought of it made Riley’s stomach clench, but he wasn’t going to let her know that. So he nodded and let her believe he’d think on it. He smiled when she seemed to relax. And then he had an idea.
“Listen…I know you’re anxious to get started on everything but I’m not… I’m not a hundred percent comfortable with the whole jumping-right-in approach. Would you mind if we sort of just…hung out today?”
“Seriously?” she asked, perplexed.
“Yeah. If this was just a fluff piece, it probably wouldn’t matter to me. But you laid it all out on the line for me what you were expecting out of this, and I can’t quite…relax. I feel like you’re on the attack and I’m getting defensive, and I think this will be beneficial to both of us if we just took a step back and maybe spent a little time getting to know one another.”
She looked at him with apprehension.
“I don’t know, Riley. I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to try to, you know, become friends. It would totally affect the tone of my article and make it biased.”
“Savannah, like it or not, if we’re going to spend a month together, there’s a pretty good chance of us becoming friends.”
Or more, he inwardly added.
“I guess,” she said, but didn’t sound convinced.
“How about this—just for today. Today we put all the recorders and notebooks, pens and computers away and just hang out. Tomorrow we’ll start up, and you can ask questions all the livelong day, and even if I’m not comfortable, I’ll cooperate. What do you say?”
She still looked at him with a hint of confusion. “And…what would we do? I mean, it’s only like two in the afternoon.”
Riley jumped to his feet, excited to have the chance to convince her to give his reasoning a chance. “Well, clearly you haven’t seen the whole house. It’s not huge, but I do have a small studio and a game room. Do you like video games?”
Her apprehension slowly faded as a smile crossed her face. “I do.”
“Do you like movies?” he asked.
“Depends on the type.” And before he could comment she quickly added, “And I’m a girl so of course I like a good romantic comedy, but it’s not the only kind of movie I’ll watch.”
He was impressed. Stepping closer to her as Savannah rose to her feet, he asked, “Tell me what other kinds you’re interested in.”
“I don’t mind action movies but they’re not my favorite. I enjoy a lot of classics—I keep Turner Classic Movies on in the background normally when I’m writing. Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart are personal favorites. Musicals can be fun if I’m in the mood. But if I had to narrow it down, I would say almost anything from the sixties. I don’t know why but I can pretty much sit down and watch any movie from that decade and be happy.”
“Okay. Good to know.” He paused and thought of a few other options. “How do you feel about Ping-Pong?”
Savannah burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right? We’re going to skip an entire day of interviewing so we can play Ping-Pong?”
He stepped a little closer. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I take my Ping-Pong game very seriously. You could probably get more secrets out of me while I’m in the zone during a game than you’d get in a full day of recordings. Trust me.”
“Hmm…interesting.” She tapped a finger to her lip and looked to be considering her options.
“Honestly, I don’t think we’ll need a month to get you the information you want for this story, but I agreed to it. Shouldn’t we at least make an attempt to like each other?”
“Okay, I know I said some things last night—”
Riley held up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, Savannah. You’re entitled to your opinions, but you have to give me a chance to at least try to change your mind.” His voice softened. “And it has nothing to do with the article. I just… I want you to see I’m not such a bad guy.”
He was minutes away from begging and crying, and if he didn’t convince her soon, Riley was certain he’d lose the battle.
“Just for today though, right?” she finally said, and Riley almost sagged to the floor with relief.
“Absolutely! You’re not going to regret this.” Looking around the room, he took a minute to come up with a plan. “Okay, put all your stuff away and let’s get started!”
“Hey! I have to give up work and my snacks?” she said with a smirk. “That hardly seems fair.”
Riley stopped in his tracks. “You know what? You’re right. But we’ll deal with it when we get hungry. I have quite the snack stash too.” Without thinking, he grabbed Savannah by the hand and gently tugged her with him.
He showed her the rest of the house—the bedrooms, the bathrooms, his office, his studio, and the game room. By the time he realized he was holding her hand, he felt a little pleased Savannah hadn’t corrected him on it or pulled away.
Baby steps.
“So…where do you want to start?” he asked.
Savannah’s expression was one of pure wonder. She was l
ooking everywhere at once it seemed. “You have… There’s a lot of… Wow.”
Yeah, that’s pretty much exactly what Riley was thinking—about her. “Come on. You can have the first pick of what we do.”
“Really?” she asked excitedly.
“Really. Go ahead. Anything at all. Video games? Movie? Ping-Pong?”
“Is that a pinball machine in the corner?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder as she finally took her hand from his.
“It is.” He followed her across the room. “Guns N’ Roses. It was hard to find but I had played this when I was younger and loved it. When I designed the game room, I was determined to find one and put it in here.”
“And you have Pac-Man!” Savannah jumped up and down and then stopped and looked at Riley sheepishly. “Sorry. I haven’t played that in years.”
“Don’t often get to an arcade, huh?” he teased.
“Strange, right?” She touched the pinball machine and the Pac-Man machine before walking around the perimeter of the room.
Riley stood back and watched, curious to see where she stopped and what they were going to do first. He wasn’t lying earlier—he took all of his game playing seriously and tended to say things he wouldn’t normally say just to get his opponent to stop talking. Not that he was mean or nasty. In his case he was brutally honest and couldn’t seem to lie to save his life.
It was a curse, really.
On the surface it might look like he was conning Savannah or that he was simply trying to delay the inevitable. But as he stood there now watching her, Riley knew the truth. He couldn’t keep his distance or—as Owen had put it—not be attracted to her while the interview was going on. It simply wasn’t possible.
His fate was sealed.
Savannah Daly was someone he was going to be spending a lot of time with for the next month. The key was to make the most of their time and have her look at him not only as the subject of her magazine article, but as a person.
As a man.
And not a rock star.
He rolled his eyes at his own logic. There was no denying the rock star angle—it was the only reason she was here. But he needed her to see beyond that. He just wasn’t sure exactly how yet.
This Is Our Song Page 6
