Rockers After Dark: 6 Book Bundle of Sexy Musicians

by Chase, Deanna

  He chuckled and handed her a pair of Bluetooth headphones. “Not quite.”

  She put them on and was immersed in a world of music. Sweet, yet dark and haunting, it made her pulse quicken even while her hips swayed to the beat. Her breath caught as she listened to the familiar voice sing of finding himself in the darkness and coming back into the light. Unshed tears burned her eyes, and she covered her mouth to keep from blubbering like a baby. She’d always loved Ravinia’s Rejects, but Ethan had taken the music to a deeper, more personal level that tugged on her heart and took her on the journey with him.

  Ethan hung on her every reaction until the song ended, his eyes lit up with expectation. Sarcasm dripped from his voice as he asked, “It sucked, didn’t it?”

  Laughter overtook her tears, and she playfully punched him in the chest. “Oh yeah, it totally sucked.”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “Tell me what you really think, Bec.”

  “It’s fuckin’ brilliant, just like you.” She threaded her fingers through his hair and lowered his lips to hers.

  “So you like it?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “And do I get a thank-you for letting you be the first person to listen to it?” He grabbed her ass, the hard ridge of his erection pressing to the lower part of her stomach and heating the desire in her own blood.

  “I’m sure I can think of something.”

  “So can I.”

  He lifted her up, and her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. One passionate kiss led to another, each more hungry than the last, until he carried her up to his bed and left her completely sated.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hilde was waiting at Becca’s cubicle when she arrived at work Monday morning. The weekend had been a blissful haze of passionate lovemaking and music as Ethan slowly unveiled one song at a time to her, but all that came to an end when her alarm bleated that morning.

  “I got your text message.” Becca handed Hilde her coffee. “Anything else?”

  “Elaine was looking for you.”

  Becca glanced at the clock and cursed. She was almost half an hour late. “Was she pissed?”

  “When isn’t she?” Hilde took a sip from her cup before continuing. “She made me wait here until you showed up so I could relay her message to you.”

  “Which was?”

  “She wants to see you in her office. Pronto.” Hilde walked off, drinking her coffee as though there was nothing amiss.

  Cold sweat prickled the base of Becca’s spine. Even if Elaine had good news for her, she was not at her desk when she was supposed to be. She stowed her bag, wiped her palms on her skirt, and made her way to the editor’s corner office.

  Elaine’s secretary gave her a tight smile. “She’s been expecting you, Rebecca.”

  Shit! Not a good sign when the secretary is on alert. Is it too early to start asking for boxes for my things?

  She paused at the door, took a deep breath to collect herself, and knocked.

  “Come in,” Elaine called from the other side.

  Becca swallowed past the lump in her throat and entered. “You asked to see me, Elaine?”

  The editor stood at her desk, focused on the papers scattered around it. “Yes, I did. Come here.”

  As she approached the desk, her fear multiplied into horror. The papers Elaine was studying were pictures of her and Ethan. Walking through Hell’s Kitchen. At the Wollman rink. At the river. At Gitta’s café. Even of them skiing in the Catskills during Thanksgiving weekend.

  Elaine looked up, her sharp eyes boring holes into her. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

  Becca tried to speak, but her throat tightened, strangling her.

  “I asked you to give me celebrity dirt, and all this time, you’ve been sitting on the story of a lifetime.” She held up a picture of Becca kissing Ethan.

  Her voice shook as she asked, “You’ve been spying on me?”

  “Of course.” She dropped the photograph and went back to her chair. “When your father mentioned that you’d brought Ethan Kelly home for Thanksgiving dinner—”

  “My father told you we were dating?” She knew he didn’t like Ethan, but this took it to a whole other level.

  “Don’t interrupt.” Elaine’s words were sharper than a samurai’s katana. “And yes, I had lunch with your parents last week, and they told me all about your new boyfriend. I wouldn’t have believed them, but they showed me these pictures.” She tapped the ones of them skiing.

  “I knew what a huge story this would be, so I sent Armando to follow you.” She waved her hand over the rest of the photographs. “You’ve been a very busy girl.”

  Becca sank into the chair across from Elaine, regretting the bagel she’d downed for breakfast that now churned in her stomach like the Hudson in a nor’easter. “What do you want, Elaine?”

  “You’ve been asking to write a story, and now I’m giving you your very own assignment.” The editor steepled her fingers and sat back in her chair. “I want a tell-all exclusive. Ethan Kelly is an enigma, and since the death of his bandmate, he’s gone even further underground. Yet you seem to know him quite intimately.”

  The answer formed on her lips before she even had a chance to think about it. “No.”

  “Journalism is all about the big story, the one that will captivate the public and sell newspapers and magazines and bring clicks to websites. And I’m sure thousands of women would eagerly buy a copy of Moderne if it contained an exposé of Ethan Kelly. I want details of his battle with addiction, of his new album, of his reaction to his bandmate’s death.”

  “I won’t do that to him.”

  Elaine made a tsking sound with her tongue. “And that’s why you’ll never succeed at journalism. It can never be personal. It’s always business. You can’t let your emotions interfere with the story.”

  She winced at the coldness of Elaine’s comments. If that was what it meant to be a true journalist, she wanted none of it. “But he’s my boyfriend, not some stranger on the street.”

  “He’s a public figure readers want to know more about.” Elaine leaned forward on her desk, her expression turning into one of impatient tolerance. “Rebecca, dear, the only reason I’ve kept you here as long as I have is because I’m good friends with your parents. When your father mentioned to me that you wanted to become a serious journalist, I nearly laughed my head off. But since he asked me to help you out, I agreed to offer you a job. So far, you’ve lived up to my expectations.”

  Judging from the way Elaine looked down her nose at her, those expectations weren’t set very high to begin with.

  But the sting of Elaine’s assessment was nothing compared the harsh humiliation of the truth. The only reason she was there was because of her father. It didn’t matter that she’d worked her tail off to graduate from NYU’s Journalism Institute. To the entire world, she would always be Becca Shore, heiress and fucked-up party girl.

  “I’m giving you a chance to prove me wrong, Rebecca.” She held up a photograph from the ice rink. “I want a story on Ethan Kelly in my in-box by Friday afternoon. If you can’t do it, then don’t bother returning to work on Monday.”

  She dropped the picture and shooed Becca away. “You have your assignment. Don’t disappoint me.”

  Becca’s knees shook as she rose from the chair, but she forced herself to leave in a calm, controlled manner. Somehow, she made it out of the corner office without losing it. The nausea refused to relent, though, and she wound up making a dash to the nearest bathroom to lose her breakfast. Hot tears followed, and she hugged the toilet while her frustration vented.

  She needed this job. If she lost it, she’d be forced to become dependent on someone else again, and every fiber of her being recoiled at that idea. But her conscience refused to allow her to keep her job by betrayi
ng the man she loved.

  There has to be some middle ground. There must be.

  Her tears dried up, and she turned her energy to finding it.

  ***

  Ethan stared at the timeline on the white board in front of him, the end of a dry erase marker pressed against the corner of his mouth. In the past, he’d always let someone at his record label handle the details of a new release. Now, he was in charge.

  The hard part was over. He’d finished an album he was proud of in record time. But a whole new realm of unfamiliar territory loomed in front of him. When should he announce the new solo album? How? Website? Press release? Should he slip a sample to a local radio station?

  And of course, once he went public with the news, the simple life he’d enjoyed while hiding would come to an end. He’d have to make appearances on TV shows and at concerts. People would recognize him on the streets after that, and he’d be faced with more instances like Friday night.

  The inside of his wrist burned, flowing up to the back of his neck. A cold sweat prickled his skin. His muscles clenched, and his gut wrenched. The craving blindsided him with enough force to make him stumble back in his chair. Several minutes passed as he concentrated on the air moving in and out of his lungs, thankful for each breath that he drew in. He could beat this, just like he’d had dozens of times before. He just had to remind himself all the other things that filled the void.

  A few minutes later, the craving passed, and the world came back into focus. He turned to his computer and did a quick Internet search for his name. No new pictures came up. Whoever the paparazzo was, he hadn’t sold those pictures of him and Becca at the ice rink to any media outlet.

  His phone rang, and he answered without looking at the number.

  “Hello, sweetie,” his mom said in a honey-thick voice. “How are you doing?”

  “I’d be doing a lot better if you’d stop talking to me like I was still five years old, Mom.” He tried to sound stern, but a hint of teasing crept into his words. “Yes, I’m fine. No, I haven’t used any drugs. And yes, I’m back to work. Any other questions?”

  “Where did you learn how to be such a smartass?”

  Laughter broke free from his chest. “Frank,” he replied.

  “I’ll have to talk to that boy when he comes home for Christmas. Speaking of which…”

  He set the marker on the table and hopped up on the kitchen counter. “I’m coming home, Mom. Don’t worry about that.”

  “Wonderful! I’ll get to have all of my boys home at once. We haven’t been able to do that for three years.”

  “It’s not my fault Ben and Frank always have games around the holidays, or that Caleb’s always getting deployed somewhere.”

  “Or that you were always on the road with the band.”

  “Well, I am kind of busy arranging the release of my first solo effort, but I suppose I can put it off until after the holidays.” He closed his eyes and smiled, enjoying the freedom of controlling his career. It meant he could enjoy a peaceful holiday without dozens of reporters hounding his every move. “Is Dan bringing his girlfriend?”

  “Yes, even though poor little Jenny’s going to be massively pregnant by then. Why?”

  The peace from moments before was slowly eroded by nerves. “Um, would it be okay if I bring my girlfriend, too?”

  He could almost picture his mom’s mouth hanging agape during the silence that followed. “You have a girlfriend and you didn’t tell me?”

  “Mom, I’m an adult now, remember? I don’t have to tell you every little detail of my life.”

  “But you should at least tell me if you’re seeing someone.”

  “Not if it’s still early in the relationship. I wanted to make sure she was a keeper before telling anyone.”

  “Exactly how long have you been dating her?”

  He ran his finger along the neck band of his T-shirt. “About three months. Nowhere near proposal time, Mom, so don’t even bring that up.”

  “Fine, I won’t.” Although the exasperated tone revealed her disappointment.

  “And don’t go overly religious with the decorations. She’s Jewish.”

  “Jewish?”

  “I think that’s enough information for now, Mom. Just don’t overwhelm her when you meet her, okay?”

  “Can I at least have her name?”

  “Becca.” He hung up before his mom could pry any more information from him. Becca was already nervous enough about her past being a strike against her, and he didn’t want to give his mom anything that could make her more uncomfortable. She’d respected his identity when it came to meeting her family, and he could do the same for her.

  Besides, they were bound to like her. And once they got to know the real Becca, then he could mention her last name.

  He went back to the white board and continued planning his release, scouting out PR firms until his alarm went off to remind him of his weekly NA meeting. He grabbed his helmet and jacket and wondered what specials Gitta would have this week at her café.

  ***

  Ari did a double take when she came into the apartment. “What are you doing home this early, Becca? Don’t you have your meeting to go to?”

  Becca curled her knees up to her chest, already dressed in her pajamas on the sofa. “I got sick at work.”

  Panic flickered over her roommate’s face. “Stay away from me. I can’t afford to get sick right now. I have a project due before I leave for LA next week.”

  “It’s not that kind of sick.”

  Panic change to concern. “Uh-oh. You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  “What the fuck is up with all the pregnancy concerns?” She tossed a pillow at her roommate. “I’ve been taking my pill every day at the same time like I should, thank you very much.”

  “Sorry, but you seem a little, um, emotional lately.” Ari lowered her bottom to the edge of the chair and folded her hands in her lap. “What’s wrong?”

  “Where do I start?”

  “Wherever you want. I’m still your best friend, after all.”

  For the first time since her meeting with Elaine that morning, she didn’t feel sick to her stomach. “I mentioned to you that I thought I saw someone taking pictures of me and Ethan at the ice rink Friday. Well, I found out why. Elaine hired him to track me. She has photos of the two of us all over the city.”

  Ari’s lips parted in surprise, and her brown eyes grew to twice their normal size. “That fucking bitch.”

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. She asked me to write an exposé on Ethan. Told me if I didn’t turn it in by Friday, I was as good as fired.”

  “Oh my god! The nerve of that woman.”

  “And the kicker was that the only reason she hired me was because Daddy called in a favor.” Becca grabbed another pillow and hugged it to her chest. “So now I’m faced with either betraying Ethan or losing the job I only have because of my father.”

  “This calls for wine.” Ari rose from her chair and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned a minute later with a bottle of red wine, a corkscrew, and two glasses.

  “You know I don’t drink.”

  “Yes, but if there was ever a reason to let your rules slide, this is it.” She poured two glasses and handed one to Becca. “So, let’s brainstorm our options.”

  Becca held her glass, refusing to sip from it, but gave her roommate a smile. This was what she loved about Ari. Growing up, she’d always found a way to get around rules and restrictions, and Becca hoped her best friend would help her find a way around this.

  Ari took a generous drink from her glass. “Okay, let’s start with the extremes. Option one: You tell Elaine to take this job and shove it.”

  Becca snorted with laughter as she imagined the editor’s face reacting to that statement. She set her glass down before she spilled the
contents. “I so do not have the balls for that.”

  “You used to.” Ari took another drink. “Option two: You beg your boyfriend for the story to save your job.”

  She squirmed at the thought of that. “I don’t know, Ari. Ethan’s very private, and the kind of things Elaine wants—well, I hate to ask that of him.”

  Ari gave her a sympathetic nod. “But if you at least explained your situation to him—”

  “No, I can’t.” Becca threw down her pillow and paced in front of the sofa. “After all, I’m the reason the paparazzi found us. If I hadn’t taken him home for Thanksgiving, then my dad wouldn’t have told Elaine about him, and there wouldn’t be any photographs out there of him. Don’t you see—his privacy is being threatened, and it’s all my fault.”

  “Maybe, but it’s not like you sold him out. After all, he was the one who wanted to come home with you. He’s the one who told your father who he was.”

  “I know, but…” She stopped and pressed her palm to her forehead. No matter how hard she tried to rationalize everything, she still felt like a failure. “I tried so hard to protect him.”

  “But he’s a big boy, Becca. He can take care of himself now.”

  “Is he? To me, he’s still fragile, still in danger of one blow setting him back on the wrong path again.”

  “And you’re not?” Ari stood and came next to her. “Let’s say you do what you consider the ethical thing and quietly refuse to write the story. You’ll lose the only job you’ve ever had, and the market right now isn’t hopping with new ones. As soon as you give your name, people are going to draw their own conclusions about you. We have this place rent-free, but I can only cover so much of the food and utilities.”

  “You don’t think I haven’t considered that?”

  “So then you’re faced with two other options. One: go crawling back to your father and beg for a monthly allowance.”

  Becca wrinkled her nose, every fiber of her being repulsed at the idea. “You know I won’t do that.”

  “The other option is that you make Ethan your sugar daddy and move in with him. He certainly has the funds to support you, and you’re practically living there anyway.”