Becca’s spine stiffened, and her fear morphed into a mixture of outrage and confusion. She struggled to keep her voice calm as she asked, “My connections?”
“Yes, you’re Becca Shore, party girl extraordinaire and heiress to a fortune,” Elaine explained with a flourish. “You know people my readers are eager to learn about. You can provide Moderne with the juicy celebrity gossip that will make issues fly off the newsstand. Why do you think I agreed to take you on?”
A bitter taste filled her mouth, but she kept it closed.
Elaine leaned forward, arms on her desk. “Surely, you must know something we can use.”
How about the fact I screwed Ethan Kelly last week? I bet your readers would love to find out what he’s like in the bedroom.
But she wasn’t the fuck-and-tell type. Not to mention, she was too busy trying to convince him to trust her. He hadn’t made any effort to contact her since he ran out of her apartment Friday morning.
She kept her face blank and shook her head. “Not at the moment.”
Elaine’s face hardened, and she sat back in her chair. “Well, then consider that your assignment, Rebecca. We’re getting into the holiday season, and I expect with your family’s connections, you’ll have your pick of parties to attend. If someone important so much as sneezes, I want to hear about it.”
So, I’m being regulated to being a celebrity spy.
She squeezed her hands into fists to keep from telling Elaine no. As crappy as this job was, it was a job that paid her modest bills, and the last thing she needed was to get canned. If she had no income, she’d be forced to crawl back to her father and concede to his demands. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Excellent. I look forward to seeing your reports.” Elaine turned her attention to her computer and dismissed Becca with a wave of her hand.
Becca retreated to her cubicle, unable to ease the sick feeling in her stomach. The only reason she’d gotten this job was because of who she used to be, and now she was in danger of losing it. Her dream of becoming a respected journalist seemed further away than ever.
She pulled out her phone and dialed Ari’s number. “Can you get away for lunch? I really need someone to talk to.”
“Sure. Want to meet at Le Cirque? I know the maître d’, and he can squeeze us in.”
Becca winced at the thought of the pricy check that would entail, but brushed it off with the excuse that she needed the splurge. “Sure. Meet you there at noon?”
“I’m in a meeting until twelve-thirty, so make it one. See you then.”
***
Later, lunch still sat like a lead brick in the pit of Becca’s stomach as she left work. She’d spent two hours brainstorming with Ari about how she could save her job without becoming a social pariah, and nothing seemed feasible.
Of course, it didn’t help that Ari kept bringing up her relationship with Ethan. It was only when Becca threatened to publish photos of Gabe in braces and headgear that Ari backed off. Some things didn’t need to be made public, and Ethan Kelly was one of them.
She hurried down the street to the nearest subway station. The train was waiting at the track when she reached the stairs leading to the platform. She ran down to catch it, only to feel something crack under her feet. Her ankle rolled, and she stumbled down the last few steps, praying she didn’t make a face plant on the concrete. By the time she caught her balance, the doors had closed.
She glanced down at the broken heel of her shoe and cursed. If they’d been real Jimmy Choos instead of knockoffs, she would’ve made the train. Now she was left with a ruined pair of shoes and would be late for her NA meeting.
She hobbled over to the nearest bench and fished through her bag for the tiny tube of super-glue she kept there for emergencies. There was a time in her life when she would’ve tossed the shoes in the garbage and bought a new pair, but the cost of lunch had set her back far enough on her finances that new shoes were out of the question. For now, she had to patch the heel back on and pray it would last until she got home and could apply some stronger glue.
Her ankle was starting to swell by the time she snuck into the meeting. She didn’t even bother looking for Ethan and opted for the closest open chair. Instead of listening to the other members, her mind whirled around her own predicament. She could either become a rat or end up at the mercy of her father again. Just the idea of living under his constant scrutiny was enough to revive the familiar craving.
When she was high, she didn’t care what he thought about her. His criticism rolled off like splashes on her favorite Burberry rain boots. But if she went back to him, she’d have to admit she was wrong about the choices she’d made, and he’d be completely insufferable.
It’s better to be poor and hungry than be tempted to get high again.
It was a revelation she’d come to two years ago, and it gave her the strength to quiet the craving. If she lost her job at Moderne, she could find something else to do. Bartend. Wait tables. Maybe even see if she could get on at the public relations firm where Ari worked. Besides, if she were broke, she’d think more than twice about dropping twenty dollars every time she wanted to get high.
The meeting drew to a close, and she met Ethan’s gaze across the room. Her breath caught from the intensity of his stare, and she squirmed in her seat from the memories of him ordering her to touch herself. Part of her wanted to flee before he caught her just to avoid the awkward “So, about the other night” conversation, but the predatory heat in his gray eyes almost forbade her to leave without speaking to him first.
And he knew what a sucker she was when he ordered her to do something.
She stayed in her seat and waited for him while the others wandered out of the basement.
He wove this way through the crowd until he stood in front of her, his hands buried in his pockets. Even dressed in a faded T-shirt and worn jeans, he was sexy. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she repeated, not coming up with anything better to say.
He rocked back and forth on his feet before sitting in the chair next to her. “Becca, I….” His voice trailed off, and he looked away.
Her throat tightened. This was where he was going to give her the “Thanks for the other night, but I think we should just be friends” spiel. And she deserved it. After all, she’d been the one to invite him back to her bed when he was still in a precarious position of his recovery.
He rubbed the back of his neck and turned back to her. “Can we go to the café and talk?”
“Sure,” she said with an extra dose of false cheer in her voice.
When she stood, though, the throbbing in her ankle roared to life and sent a jolt of pain up her leg. She gasped and lurched forward.
Ethan caught her, his brows drawing together in worry. “What’s wrong?”
“These stupid shoes.” She sat back down and took off the offending shoe. The strong glue had failed, and now the heel dangled by a thin strip of fake leather. “I twisted my ankle on the way over here.”
“Let me take a look.” He knelt in front of her to examine her ankle. “You know, this is the second time I’ve seen you stumble in those heels. You should think about sturdier footwear.”
“And risk not being fashionable? Never!”
His warm hands caressed her calf and slid down to the swollen joint. The sensation awakened her desire and brought back memories of his hands on other parts of her body. And despite the fact that his inspection of her ankle was far from sexual, she grew more and more turned on with every gentle squeeze.
“It doesn’t look broken,” he said and looked back at her. He paused, and as though he read her desire, his mouth curled up in a sexy grin that made her slick with anticipation. “Maybe we should just go back to your place?”
“Are you ready to handle Ari?”
“Good point.” He rose and scooped her up in his arms. “My
place it is.”
Her tongue tripped over itself in embarrassment. “You don’t need to carry me.”
“And you don’t need to be walking on that ankle.” He climbed up the stairs with the same brisk pace as he did with empty arms. “Besides, it’ll give me a chance to play knight in shining armor.”
“I’m not a damsel in distress.”
“No, but I definitely don’t mind.” He carried her to his motorcycle. “Do you think you’ll be able to ride?”
“I should.”
“Then strap on your helmet.” He handed it to her and put on his own.
She’d been so flustered from his chivalry that she’d forgotten he wanted to go back to his place until he headed west toward Hell’s Kitchen. Warning bells sounded in the back of her mind. If she went back to his place, she risked getting naked with him again. But she rationalized that she could exercise some self-control around Ethan Kelly, and knowing where he lived would be important in case she needed to check in on him.
He pulled up to a renovated warehouse and turned off the engine. “Stay on,” he ordered as he pushed her and the bike inside and onto the freight elevator.
“Don’t trust your neighbors?” she teased.
“Not with this.” The elevator opened at the top floor and he paused to unlock the single door in front of them. “Sorry about the mess.”
Scattered papers covered the furniture and tables, and a collection of empty soda cans gathered on the kitchen counter. But as he carried her across the room, she discovered the papers were sheet music, and each one had notes drawn on the scales.
The loft had the industrial vibe so popular with converted warehouses. Exposed brick lined the walls, and large windows offered her a glimpse of the city lights shimmering off the Hudson River. The kitchen was a sleek combination of black lacquer and stainless steel, and a black metal staircase led to the open bedroom above.
He cleared a space on his sofa and set her down there before gathering the sheet music into neat piles. “I’ve been, um, kind of on a binge lately.”
“What kind of binge?” Her heart pounded, and she checked for track marks along the tattooed vein on his left arm.
He held up his hands and shook his head. “No, no, no—not that kind of a binge.” He gathered a few more stacks of music sheets and placed them on the grand piano in the middle of the room. “A music binge. Ever since I left your place, I’ve had one song after another pop into my mind, and I was trying to write them all down before I lost them.”
“So that’s what you were doing all weekend? Composing new material?”
“Um, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck again and focused on her ankle. “Let me get you some ice.”
He disappeared into the kitchen area of the loft and filled a plastic bag full of crushed ice from the dispenser in his refrigerator door. Then he wrapped it in a dish towel and gently placed it on her ankle. “Too cold?”
“No, it’s fine.” She shifted back on the sofa to make room for him to sit down. “Tell me about these new songs.”
“It’s been crazy, Bec. It was like—bam!—a floodgate opening up. I think I’ve written enough new material to record a whole album. I’ve hardly slept all weekend, and tonight was the first time I’ve stepped out of my apartment since I came home Friday morning.”
Hmm…I wonder what Elaine would say if I told her Ethan Kelly was moving on without the rest of Ravinia’s Rejects.
He flashed her a sheepish grin. “I suppose I ought to apologize for not calling you back, but I….”
So that’s why he didn’t call. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” He got up and paced in front of her, his hands jammed into his pockets again. “I should’ve called.” He paused and added, “I wanted to call.”
“Don’t worry, Ethan. I understand. After weeks of writer’s block, I know you didn’t want to disrupt the flow.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t want to hurt you, either.” He sat back down on the sofa and took her hand in his. “What I mean to say is, I really enjoyed the other night, and I’m hoping I didn’t fuck things up by leaving like I did or not calling.”
“I can understand why you left. Ari can be a little…intense.”
“I was terrified she’d post a photo of me on Facebook or something like that. You of all people know how hard it is to hide once the paparazzi finds out where you are.”
She nodded. Those days seemed like a distant memory, but she remembered what it was like to walk out of the gym to the flash of cameras trying to capture her at her most sweaty. “So what are you saying, Ethan?”
“This.” He leaned forward and kissed her until she forgot about everything but the pressure of his lips against hers. He moved slowly, seeking her permission to continue, and when she granted it, he swept in and deepened the kiss. His arms wrapped around her, and the passion of his embrace aroused her hunger more than a four-course meal at a five-star restaurant.
She kissed him back, her hands reaching for him, exploring everything she could about him. The taste of his tongue as it entwined with hers. The subtle cedar in his cologne mixing with the scent of fabric softener on his shirt. The carved ripples of his abs and biceps. Before she could stop herself, she was falling back on the sofa and pulling him with her.
Thankfully, he was thinking clearly enough to pull back before they both got naked. He leaned over her, his arms like iron bars on either side of her chest, and struggled to catch his breath. “Becca, I want you so badly.”
“Then what’s the holdup?” She reached to pull him back to down into another kiss, but he shook her off.
“No, I mean, I want more than just sex. I like you. You get me.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
“You know—the normal dating stuff. Dinner.” He placed a simple peck on the corner of her mouth. “A movie.” Another one on the tip of her nose. “Then maybe dessert.”
He gazed down at her, the hunger in his eyes matched only by the tense, yet hopeful smile.
For a supposedly jaded rocker, his request was refreshingly innocent and sincere. She licked her lips and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You know how much I like dessert.”
“Damn, Bec, when you say it that way….” This time, he didn’t shake her off when she pulled him back into another kiss. Without breaking contact with her mouth, he scooped her up in his arms again and carried her up the metal staircase to the bed.
He laid her down and grinned. “Speaking of dessert, ever since Thursday night, I’ve had a craving for honey.” He leaned in closer and added in a low rumble, “But only if I get to lick it off of you.”
Another shiver of delight coursed down her spine at the thought of his tongue exploring her body. “Do you happen to have any?
“I’ll add it to my shopping list. Right now, you’re sweet enough.”
As they stripped off their clothes, she indulged in the fantasy of how easy it would be to fall in love with Ethan Kelly.
Chapter Eleven
The doorbell interrupted Becca while she was applying her final coat of mascara. She glanced down at the time on her phone.
Shit! He’s early.
She made quick work of her lashes and applied a coat of sheer lip color before checking her reflection in the mirror. Not as perfect as she would’ve liked, but acceptable. The vintage knee-length, fifties-styled ice blue dress made her eyes pop, and the glittering beadwork added just the right sparkle for the occasion.
Ari was opening the front door when Becca exited her bedroom. Her roommate was dressed in a simple red sheath that clung to her petite curves and boasted a revealing slit from ankle to hip. Unlike her, Ari didn’t “rent the runway” or explore secondhand stores for clothes. She owned the designer dress. “Hey, Ethan.”
Becca released the pent-up breath. In the nearly two months she and E
than had been dating, Ari had overcome her adolescent adoration and saw him simply as Becca’s boyfriend, and Ethan was much more relaxed when he hung out at her apartment.
“Hey, Ari. You look nice.”
He stepped into the apartment, and Becca’s pulse quickened. He’d always been sexy with his rough around the edges, bad-boy air. But dressed in a tux, he’d become downright irresistible. The satin lapels matched his short, slicked-back black hair, and the lines accentuated his broad shoulders and lean waist.
I want to drag him back to the bedroom and muss him up right away.
He turned to her and froze, his mouth slightly ajar. “Wow, Bec. You look great.”
Her cheeks grew warm, and she lowered her eyes with a shy smile. “You clean up pretty nicely yourself.”
“Not all cleaned up.” He lifted his trousers enough to show the polished metal-studded motorcycle boots. “I had to retain some bit of myself.”
“You rebel.” She slipped her arms through his. “So are you telling me that we’re taking your bike to the Museum Gala?”
He laughed, never taking his eyes off of her. “No, I can spring for a taxi.” Then he waved to Ari. “We’ll see you there.”
Ari waved and rushed back to her bathroom to finish getting ready. Her roommate didn’t have a date for the event, and for a moment, Becca thought about inviting her to share a cab with them. That thought flew out of her mind, though, the second Ethan pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
“You look like a sexy snow queen.”
“Are you suggesting I launch into that Idina Menzel song?”
He pulled back, his face scrunched up in horror, and laughed again. “No, don’t. Ty’s sister and her little girl joined us on tour around the time the movie came out, and all I heard for days was that song.”
The mirth faded, and his gaze grew distant, the same way it always did when he spoke of Ty. He rubbed his left forearm over the place where his best friend’s name was tattooed, the way he always did when a craving hit him.
Rockers After Dark: 6 Book Bundle of Sexy Musicians Page 103
