Callie. Jake. Arguing.
“Stop patronizing me, you arrogant jerk!” said Callie.
“I’m not patronizing you. I just don’t understand why you let this get to you.” She’d never heard him raise his voice before. He didn’t sound angry, though. Frustrated and at the end of his rope? Yes.
“Of course you don’t. They love you.”
“Jesus. Why don’t they just elope? This big buildup is making her crazy.” Rocky shifted over her, tugging her hand as he tried to stand.
“Let’s give them some privacy, holy shit! I’m sorry guys,” Lori squealed from the doorway to the terrace.
Lita knew that this secret tryst was no longer a secret. There was no way Lori and Dash could misunderstand the scene before them. She was on her back, hair sticking up all over in that I’m-getting-laid-tousle, skirt hiked up to her underwear, tank top barely covering the girls, and Rocky wedged between her thighs with a Guinness Book of World Records hard-on.
“Rocky, give me a lift,” she asked, deciding that ignoring Lori’s eye-goggling look was the best course of action until she was sober. She stumbled a little when she was suddenly upright, grabbing onto his big shoulders for balance. Lita looked into Rocky’s eyes, surprised to the see the challenge in them. “What?”
“Just wondering what you’re going to do when the tequila wears off.” He studied her for a moment, then slid his gaze to Lori and Dash. “What’s going on?”
“Callie, would you just calm down? This will all blow over in time,” Jake said, his tone losing most of the frustration from earlier.
“When? Why don’t you look in your crystal ball and tell me when?”
Jake mumbled something too low to hear from this distance, but Callie’s response was loud enough to hear every anguished word. “I’m beginning to wonder if this is even worth it!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Everyone on the terrace tried to look anywhere but at each other. Lita wasn’t sure how the silence could be any more awkward than eavesdropping on the lover’s spat between the almost newlyweds.
“C’mon, buddy. Nothing to see here.” Laz emerged through the doorway, dragging Eddie and his camera with him. Sydney trailed behind them, giving the nudge when necessary. “Sorry, Lita. I think they need some privacy on this one.”
“No, ” She caught Lori looking at her chest and trying not to laugh. Lita cast a look down, her tank was still seriously messed up. She coughed and tried to adjust herself without drawing too much attention and accomplished only an epic fail. She barely righted her top without flashing everyone. “No. That’s fine.”
“What’s going on? You all look like someone got caught having…” Laz caught her movement, glanced over at Rocky, and his eyes lit up like he’d just hit the mother lode of “info to give my buddy shit about”. “So, I guess you two are getting along now.”
“Laz, drop it.” Sydney drunkenly punched him in the arm, her fist barely making contact.
“Are they done yet?” Dash asked. “I’d really like to hit the bed.”
“I’m a little more concerned about my sister than sleep,” Lori said, taking a peek around Laz. It had gone quiet. “Are they even in there?”
“What set them off?” Rocky asked.
“Something on social media. Callie checked her phone.” Lori put her hands up to stop the expected questions. “I know we said that she was on a media blackout, but I’m only her sister. If Jake can’t keep her off the stuff, then what am I supposed to do?”
Laz stuck his head in the door. “Well, we can all figure this out tomorrow. They’re gone, and so am I.” He stuck his hand out to Sydney. “Let’s get you to bed, drunk karaoke girl.”
“I’m not that drunk,” Sydney protested as he dragged her away.
“Well, we’re going to go pace the floor and worry about Callie for the next two hours,” Dash said, hooking his arm around Lori’s neck, kissing her cheek when she rolled her eyes.
“I’m sure they’ll be fine. This is just nerves for her. Lots of pressure,” Lita said, knowing that Lori wasn’t buying any of it. But Lori was Dash’s problem, and she had her own six feet five inches of trouble looming over her right shoulder.
It was a total chicken shit move, but she started walking in their wake, determined to dodge the inevitable conversation with Rocky, but he wasn’t letting her go. His fingers snagged the waistband on her skirt, the hot flesh of his fingers warm against the skin of her back. She closed her eyes against the urge to not only let him stop her, but to lean back against him and lose herself in the residual buzz of alcohol and the full-on intoxication of Rocky Cardano.
“Where you going?” His voice was low, going deeper as he edged closer to her. “I was thinking you’d wait until the tequila wore off to make a runner.”
“Oh, you know…” She tried to laugh and wiggle away, but he just moved even closer, pressing a kiss against her bare shoulder. “Don’t do that.”
“I hear you saying it, but I don’t believe it. I think you’re saying what you think you should say.”
“It is what I should say.”
“Why?”
Because you are dangerous for me. You are a risk I don’t know if I want to take.
“We both know how this one ends. Movies are never as good the second time around. My dad taught me that.”
“But…”
She turned, not ready to hear what he would say next. The surge of hope in her heart setting off every alarm bell that she was not in the right state of mind to have this conversation. He was looking down at her with dark, sexy eyes, and an “I can give you twenty orgasms” smirk on his face. She had to take a step back to avoid giving in.
“Me. Lots of tequila. Not a good combination to make important decisions.”
Rocky stared at her for one, two, three heartbeats, his expression never changing. “Fine. We can come back to this when you don’t have the excuse of tequila to hide behind.”
She opened her mouth to protest. Yes, he was only repeating what she’d already said, but he made it sound made up, fake.
Rocky leaned down, cupping her jaw with his big hand while he brushed his lips against her own. It was barely a kiss, but it lit her up like his touch was laced with an explosive.
“Good night, Lita.”
He grabbed her shoulders and spun her gently around, giving her swat on the butt as he pushed her toward the door. The room was empty, no sign of Callie, Jake, or anyone. The lights were dimmed, the rest of the mansion settling in for the evening. She made it halfway across the room when she remembered her phone. Damn it. It was still on the sofa on the terrace. She debated coming back to get it in the morning, but knew that it would keep her up all night if she didn’t have it.
She tiptoed out onto the patio. Rocky’s back was turned to her, and he was facing the moonlit lake. Lita spied her phone on the cushion, her fingers just closing over it when Rocky’s voice, hard, cold, and vicious, whipped out into the night.
“Listen, asshole. I told you not to call me again.” Rocky’s hand came down on the railing with a thud. Even from this distance, and in the semi-darkness, she could see the tension rolling off him. “Don’t you dare speak her name.”
Lita dipped back into the shadows as Rocky paced on the patio. She wouldn’t stay and eavesdrop on this conversation. It was too personal. But she couldn’t help wonder what woman Rocky was defending. Lita, just like every other entertainment journalist, had combed through his background, and no woman ever stayed on his radar for long, except for his late mother.
But Lita remembered all the wonderful things Rocky had told her about his mom those three days in Mexico. She’d learned from her son that Carmen Cardano was a sweet woman who’d raised her only son by herself, keeping a roof over their heads by cleaning houses for the wealthy in California. She’d done nothing but work, go to mass, and be her son’s biggest fan, until cancer took her from him. Lita had seen the photographs taken by the paparazzi as he
’d gone to and from the private ceremony, his face torn up with his grief. The usual stoic Rocky had been shaken by the loss, unable to wear his typical mask of stone. Her heart had ached for him. For the first time, she’d almost picked up the phone to call him and offer her condolences, but she hadn’t. It had been too late for them to be friends, much less anything else, and she was the last person he would want to hear from while he was mourning his mom.
The phone call he’d taken tonight had been equally unwelcome, and if Lita knew anything about Rocky, that caller would regret the day he’d threatened his mother. If the last few days had proven nothing else to Lita, she knew that Rocky Cardano protected his family.
Chapter Seven
Tequila was evil.
Lita rolled over in the bed and slapped her hand over the side table in search of her cell phone. I’m a Bitch blared out in the blessed silence. Lori had programmed it into her phone as her ringtone, and Lita felt it was accurate with how she felt about her best friend right then.
“Lori, I’m going to kill you.”
“Only if you can catch me and if you feel as shitty as I do right now, that’s highly unlikely.”
“What do you want?” Lita rolled over, shoving her head under the pillow. The sooner she got Lori off the phone, the sooner she could go back to sleep.
“I’m giving you enough time to get that sexy beast out of your bed before I get there.”
“What sexy beast?” Lita pulled her head out of her cocoon, searching for the man she’d supposedly stashed in her room. No man. And definitely not the one that Lori was angling to hear about.
“Rocky.”
“He’s not here.”
“What?” Lori shrieked into the phone, her volume setting off sparks behind Lori’s closed eyes. “But last night…”
“I came. You saw. He conquered. He split.” Actually, she was the one who took off. She didn’t know what to do with what had happened between them or what she’d overheard. Even as one sided and incomplete as the information was for her, Rocky’s voice told her everything she needed to know. He was in trouble, and he was angry. She ached to help him, but she knew he wouldn’t accept it. And the reporter in her was dying to get to the bottom of the story.
“I’m coming up.”
“If you show up here without coffee, I’ll kill you.” Lita ended the call, tossed the phone, and buried her head back under the pillow. With any luck, Dash was awake, and he’d keep Lori in bed a little longer. She was tired, and the threads of a whopper hangover were weaving themselves into her brain.
The phone rang again and Lita groaned, hitting the screen. “Lori, I’m not talking until you bring me coffee. I swear to God.”
“Matthews.” Lita lurched up into a sitting position at the crack of her boss’s voice over the line. “I’m not bringing you any damn coffee.”
“Right, Russ. I didn’t know it was you. I thought, ”
“I want to know what the hell kind of crap you posted to me yesterday.” She could hear the keys on his computer clacking away in the background, and she knew he was pulling up her video file. Each day, Eddie uploaded the film from that day to their private cloud. It made it easy for her to access what she needed, but it also gave Russ full access to the material. She’d completed the first rough draft of the segment, loaded it, and apparently, he didn’t like what he found.
“It was a draft Russ…”
“Well, thank God for that. What kind of group grope are you having up there? Did you go native or something?”
“I’m covering the wedding. All the exclusive stuff.”
“Where’s my story? I’m not interested in the flowers and menus. I want to see the dirt on Callie and Jake.”
“Wait a minute, Russ. You agreed that I could cover the angle I wanted.”
“But I didn’t think you were going to shoot a fucking Hallmark commercial.”
“It isn’t. This will be an in-depth piece on their relationship.”
“Well, their relationship is boring.”
“You agreed that this could be a balanced approach. Something different from the negative noise that is currently out there.”
“That negative noise gets ratings and views, and sells advertising, so we’ve got to change the approach.”
“I don’t think I can do that,” Lita said, hoping he heard the steel in her voice. This wasn’t atypical for Russ, and while she didn’t mind being flexible, this was a non-starter. “That wasn’t our agreement.”
“Well, I can’t recommend someone who refuses to stay on message for their own show. Hold on.” Lita heard voices in the background, her mind racing to figure out what to say to change the tide of this conversation. She knew better than to tell him he couldn’t tank her own show, because he absolutely could and he would. “Matthews, figure out the real story behind these band reunion rumors. That shit is starting to trend.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he heard the argument in her pause and cut her off.
“Give me what I want, or I’ll find someone who will, and you can kiss that show good-bye.”
The line went dead, and everything she drank last night threatened to reappear. This is why she’d almost talked herself into saying no to Lori when she asked her to do this for Callie and Jake. The delicate tension between friendship, journalistic integrity, and the chase for the almighty ratings was stretched to the breaking point, and she didn’t know how to navigate the narrow strip in between all the gray areas.
Russ had been pretty clear on what she had to do to get that show, but she couldn’t stomach the thought of doing that to Callie and Jake. She had exclusive insight into how the former fiancé was impacting them, and with scenes like last night— it wasn’t pretty. Callie and Jake would hate it. But, damn, it would make a great sound bite.
Immediately, her mind sifted through the footage she’d recorded so far. She had lots of exclusive stuff, unique angles she could highlight that wouldn’t delve into the sleazy, but would gain new attention from their viewers and give Russ the ratings he craved. It would require more time in the editing booth, but she could do it. She was a professional. She was great at this job, a master of the spin. It would be okay.
Lita wandered into the bathroom, grabbed her toothbrush, and looked in the mirror. She looked like the “don’t do this” poster girl with her hair in a tangled mess, face pale from the shock of the phone call, and all the Jose Cuervo she’d sucked down last night. And on her neck—sweet Baby Jesus—it was a hickey.
Rocky had marked her, and she wasn’t at all pleased with the tighter nipples and damp sex the mere thought that he’d laid claim to her brought on. Stupid hormones. Stupid girl who couldn’t let go of the one who’d run away.
She finished brushing her teeth just as a knock hit the door. Lita moved across the room and opened it, putting her hand out for coffee.
“What? No good morning?” Lori asked as she handed over the cup of steaming beverage.
Lita smelled it, letting the rich, dark scent take the first shot at waking her up. There was no way she was getting through this conversation with Lori without the coffee. The only question was whether or not she told her about the phone call from Russ.
Lori kicked off her flip-flops, bypassed the small sofa, and slid into the bed, back resting against the headboard. She lifted her cup to her lips and stopped. “Rocky wasn’t in this bed last night, was he?”
“Yes, and we did it nine times in the very spot you’re sitting in.”
“Ass.” Lori grabbed one of the pillows and threatened to hurl it at her, almost spilled her coffee, and thought better of it.
Lita eased onto the bed next to her, shoving her bare legs under the covers and taking her first sip of the roasted, caffeinated goodness. Holy shit. That was good. They knew how to make coffee in Montana.
“You’re going to make me ask?” Lori asked.
“Yep.” Lita took another sip and leaned farther back into her pillows. The tequila headache was
subsiding, making room for the anxiety about her job and Rocky. Fun times. “I’m a reporter. I never offer anything voluntarily.”
“Fine. Are you sleeping with Rocky?”
“Define sleeping.”
She knew it was coming. She dodged the flying pillow and saved her beverage. Not one drop spilled. The morning was looking up.
“Okay, okay,” she said on a laugh, enjoying the exasperation etched onto Lori’s face. “No. I did not have sex with Rocky. What you saw was…” How did she describe what that was? Before all hell had broken loose, Rocky had been talking about hooking up while they were here. No strings. It had all the earmarks of seduction. An encounter calculated to get a repeat. “That was foreplay.”
“And it was successful if what I heard was any indication.” Lori giggled, a blush creeping over her cheeks. “I never thought you were a screamer, Lita. You’re always so calm.”
Lita placed her cup on the side table and then lunged for her friend, slapping her hand over her mouth. “Shut up or I will tell you nothing. Agreed?”
Lori nodded, erupting into a fit of laughter as soon as she was free. Lita wanted to crawl under the bed, but she settled for burrowing farther down into the covers and rolling on her side to look at her best friend. She was a liberated woman and embraced her sexuality, but that didn’t mean she put on a show for the whole world.
“Shit, Lori. I don’t know what I’m doing with him.”
“Do you have to know?” Lori lay down next to her, their voices dropping into a whisper.
“I think I do.” Lita took a deep breath, needing to share after all this time. “Four years ago, I met Rocky in Mexico. I had just quit the fashion job in Rome, and my mother was furious. My dad was mad at me for not going into acting or working at his production company. It was the same old argument we’d had for years. So, I took off to get them out of my head. I had two weeks before I started my first reporting gig. I got a room in this little hotel on the beach and avoided their hourly phone calls.”
She closed her eyes, remembering that funky little place with the American ex pats who ran it and the friendly locals. Even before Rock had shown up, it had been a great week. “I used to go to this little bar every night and listen to the live music, and one night, I noticed this guy. Huge back and shoulders covered in tats, muscles everywhere, and dark eyes that told everyone not to fuck with him.”
Playing With the Drummer Page 6
