by Zoe York
“I don’t want to do battle, Dean. I just want to sing.”
“That’s what you’ve got me for.” He ran his hands down the outside of her arms, then he leaned in, just a bit. As if he might kiss her forehead.
He froze, then pulled back with a jerk.
Her breath caught in her throat as he looked at her, a storm brewing in his eyes. Not the same worry as before. Something not quite as kind. Not mean, either, just—
He cleared his throat, snapping her out of her thought spiral. He dropped his hands and took a long, confident stride away from her. “Good night, Liana.”
“Night,” she whispered, turning with him.
“Text me when you wake up.”
“I will.” She pressed her lips together to keep from saying anything else and watched him leave her room.
Beneath that solid, quiet exterior lay a lot more than she’d given him credit for. Dean was suddenly quite complicated, and she didn’t know what to do about that.
What had she expected? Dudley Do-Right?
She sat down heavily. Well, yeah, sort of. He’d been like a Ken Doll/Superman hybrid for days. He was the living embodiment of a safe Good Guy.
Was he attracted to her after all?
If he was…how did she feel about that?
He wanted to fix her.
And she was a hot mess—but not so screwed up that she couldn’t see how leaning on him too much would be a recipe for disaster. She didn’t need saving.
For nearly a decade, she’d been saving herself just fine.
Well, mostly fine. Surviving kind of fine.
She didn’t want to think of all the ways that she didn’t have her shit together.
After she washed off her makeup and went through her nighttime routine, when she crawled into bed and closed her eyes, she tried to just go to sleep.
Tried not to think about Dean and the way his hazel eyes turned dark when he was close enough. Told herself it wasn’t whatever she’d imagined. It was just…he wanted to fix her.
He didn’t want her.
He just wanted her to be less broken. She was a job to him.
Visualize how the battle will go down.
She pictured waking up in the morning. Going through the day, carefully avoiding Track. She made mental notes about the possible points of intersection in their schedules and imagined Dean neatly moving her down another hallway, ducking her into a secret nook, pressing her against the wall…
Her eyes flew open.
No.
She tried again, her heart thumping in her chest. Avoiding Track all day, having a great performance. She could hear the crowd applauding, feel the rush of patriotic pride. Tears pricked the back of her eyelids as she smiled.
Yes. She wanted that. Wanted tomorrow to be a good day with no conflict, so once she was finished the concert, she could stand with her bandmates and watch the fireworks burst high above the Washington Monument.
A warm, bubbling excitement started low in her belly. This could work. She let the visualization bloom to a full, three-dimensional movie in her head. The warm night. The roar of the crowd. The celebration.
Turning in the safe circle of Dean’s arms. Tipping her face up to see him wink at her.
This time she didn’t open her eyes. And when he lowered his head to hers, she imagined what it would be like to kiss him.
Yes. She wanted that, too.
She was screwed.
Chapter Ten
DEAN woke up before dawn and hit the gym.
After four brutal arm sets, he still didn’t feel better about the night before.
What the hell had he been thinking, getting that close to her? She didn’t need him to kiss her damn forehead or anything else. She needed him to watch her back.
When his biceps burned so much he thought he couldn’t lift any more, he dropped to the ground and made himself do another ten push-ups.
Then he stalked back to his room and took a cold shower, leaving his phone on the counter where he could see it if Liana woke up.
She didn’t message until he was out of the shower, drying off. And just the simple pop up of her name on his screen made his dick pulse.
He was going to hell.
She’s vulnerable. Don’t be an asshole.
This wasn’t like him. He was a serial, casual monogamist. He didn’t date needy women, and he didn’t get involved in anything messy. He found someone who liked him and appreciated the physical release they could find together a few times a month.
It had been nearly a year since his last relationship ended, although he’d had a nice weekend in the fall with an ex-girlfriend who needed a plus-one for an event.
It had been too long since he’d gotten laid, and Liana was gorgeous.
And smart. And funny.
And off-limits.
A client.
High-profile.
Drama city.
Wounded and fragile.
He could make a list of all the reasons she was wrong for him. He just had, and now the words scrawled through his head in technicolour.
All of them lies, because they weren’t why he couldn’t have her.
He couldn’t have her because he would hurt her.
His junk didn’t seem to care.
He’d have to find a way to show her that he wasn’t to be trusted as a man. Tricky when he wanted her to trust him on every other level. Even—maybe especially—as a friend.
He liked her too damn much to let his attraction muddy the waters. And she needed him to be someone she could depend on, not someone she needed to worry about.
At least she didn’t seem to be worrying yet. Her text message was breezy and had two smiley faces attached to it. Have you had breakfast? Just ordered room service. Jackie and the boys are here.
He sent back a quick be right there message and got dressed.
But when he arrived in her room, she wasn’t as breezy in person as her text had suggested. She was short with West and snappy about the breakfast options. And in the next breath, she was apologetic and sweet, even flirty. But it was confusing for her band—Dean got the impression this was out of character behaviour—and he was pretty sure it was his fault.
When they finished eating and everyone scattered back to their rooms, he stayed behind.
Liana moved around her room, restlessly packing up.
Not looking at him.
Damn. He cleared his throat, getting her attention. “I should apologize for yesterday.”
Surprise rippled across her face as her cheeks turned pink. “No reason for that. Last night was fine. I did the visualizing thing.”
“Good.”
They’d moved towards each other as they spoke, and now she was right in front of him. Take a step back, he told himself, but he couldn’t move.
“It’s just a performance day, that’s all.”
“That’s all?”
“Of course,” she said, her voice shifting, lightening as she gave him a small smile.
“Your band usually that skittish around you?”
“You think you can read us all that well?”
“Reading people is my job.”
She gave him a small smile. “Right.”
“I don’t want things to get complicated between us.”
“Nothing complicated about flirting.”
“You say potato, I say—”
“I know, potato,” she said in an exaggerated Canadian accent. “Point taken. We have different ways of dealing. Just ignore me if you don’t like my flirting, okay?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” Jesus, why did he say that? Because it was the truth.
She looked at him, silence pounding between them, then she stepped back. “Well, I don’t mean anything by it, it’s no big deal.” She mock-sighed and pressed her hand to her chest. “And here I had such high hopes for a torrid love affair with someone that says potato. But I assure you, the offer has definitely expired.”
“Noted.
” He gave her a rueful half-grin. “Torrid?”
“I’d have shocked all of your polite Canadian sensibilities.”
God, he wanted to set her straight. There was nothing polite about what he wanted to do with her. To her. “Dodged a bullet, clearly.”
She laughed under her breath as someone rapped twice on her door—Andrew—and then they weren’t alone anymore.
Saved by the band.
The morning sped by a whirlwind of activity. She did her own makeup, but a woman from the crew came and did her hair, transforming her naturally glossy waves into something straight out of a music video, big bouncy curls that matched her dark eyes and perfect pink lipstick.
She was suddenly a star again, in a way she hadn’t been for the dress rehearsal the night before, even though she’d done the hair and makeup thing for that, too. But that had been on the tour bus right before she went on stage.
This was performance blurring with real life as he trailed her on her way down to a room on the ground floor of the hotel.
Part of the wall had been covered in plastic vinyl sheeting with her name scrawled on it over and over again, and it was this backdrop that she stood in front of for nearly two hours, spending a minute or two with a hundred and three fans, each one wanting a photo and a hug and private word.
For each of them, she gave them her full attention and her brightest smile.
When the last fan stepped up to see her, eyes full of tears, Liana started crying too. Dean passed over a tissue box and she dabbed the corners of her eyes like the pro that she was. “Honey, what’s this all about?” she asked the radio listener.
“I almost didn’t make it,” the woman whispered through hiccups. “My credit card didn’t work in the parking lot and I didn’t have any cash on me, so my husband is circling the block right now.”
“Oh, bless you. Well, I’m thrilled you made it. Are you coming to the show tonight?”
The fan nodded.
“I can’t wait to sing for you. What’s your favourite song?”
“River Bed Lullaby.”
“And what’s your name?”
“Ashley.”
“Well, Ashley, I’m singing that song tonight, and I’m going to sing it for you. Okay? Now dry your eyes, and we’ll take a picture together. You’re beautiful.”
Once they’d taken not one but three pictures, because Ashley blinked in the first one and Liana was laughing in the second—although Dean was pretty sure that one would be Ashley’s favourite for life—Liana walked her new best friend to the door and gave her one last hug before saying goodbye.
The second the door was closed, the mask dropped. It wasn’t that she hadn’t genuinely wanted to make that woman’s day, Dean was certain. It was just that being that on didn’t come naturally to her. Which made how authentic she was with her fans all the more impressive.
“Lunch?” Jackie asked. “West headed over to the venue early, he’s recording something for his fan group. But Andrew’s around if you want to talk about the show, or just veg.”
Liana sighed. “I need to get online and do some stuff. Would you mind if I WhisperSnipped while we eat?”
“Of course not.”
It was like they were speaking in code. What the hell was whisper snipping? That didn’t sound healthy. Dean stepped ahead of them, making sure the hallway was clear. He’d gotten his hand on a copy of Track’s schedule and the headliner was scheduled to be at a White House lunch for veterans for a few more hours, but it never hurt to be careful. Then he followed along silently as they talked about how much to share about the new album.
“Who knows what songs will end up on it.” Liana rolled her head from side to side, stretching her neck. “You think I’ve got time to fit in some yoga?”
“Sure. We’ll get out of your hair after lunch. But maybe if we talk about what we’re excited about, we can shape fan interest, get them to push the label.”
Liana snorted. “You know better than that.”
“I’m being optimistic for the new guy,” Jackie said, flashing Dean a grin.
He spread his arms wide. “I literally have no idea what you guys are talking about. I heard lunch, yoga, songs. I’m officially a fan of all three.”
Liana turned around, walking backward as she talked. “I should ask you, too. How do you feel about being on a WhisperSnip?”
“No clue. I’m half-afraid to ask what it even is.”
“It’s a live video feed that goes out to all your social media sites. I try to do one a week or so. Fans tune in, ask questions, react to whatever we’re talking about. It’s good market research.”
He pointed ahead of them. “Watch where you’re walking, there’s our turn up ahead.”
She didn’t miss a beat as she spun around the corner and pushed the button for the elevator. “I just do it from my phone. I’ve got this little tripod I set up. You can sit behind it if you want.”
He didn’t care. He shrugged. “Up to you.”
She smiled as she stepped into the elevator. “You’re cute. Let’s get you a fan group.”
“What?” More people joined them, pushing him closer to her. No, he didn’t need a fan group. And what happened to their agreement not to flirt?
On her other side, Jackie nodded. “I agree with Liana, you’ll go over well. But we can play that by ear.”
The car jerked up to the second floor, and more people got on. He braced his hand on the wall of the elevator, shifting a bit so Liana was protected in the corner.
She grinned up at him. “You’ll get a name.”
He was still stumbling over the fact she’d called him cute. “I have a name.”
“No, not you. The fans will call themselves something. Like Dean’s Dealers.”
“That sounds vaguely criminal.”
Jackie snorted.
Liana’s smile got even bigger. “Jackie’s group calls themselves the Jack o’ Lanterns.”
“No.” He chuckled under his breath, because that was kind of funny. But for Jackie. Not for him. “This wasn’t in the contract.”
Her eyes twinkled. “There’s a lot we didn’t discuss.”
“I’m getting that message loud and clear.”
“You really don’t have to be visible at all.”
“I walk four feet behind you everywhere you go. I’m going to have my picture taken.”
“There’s something more intimate about the videos, though.” Her voice had dropped as they talked, and now she was murmuring barely above a whisper, and he was leaning right over her.
Which meant that when she said intimate, and his brain was still rolling around the fact that she thought he was cute, he became way too aware of how close they were.
And when he stiffened, so did she.
Ding.
“This is our floor,” Jackie said, patting him on the shoulder.
Saved by the bell.
Andrew was pacing in front of Liana’s room, and when they piled in, he grabbed the room service menu. Liana told him she wanted a salad, but when she started to list all the substitutions she wanted, he tossed it her way and told her she was in charge of doing the ordering. The bubbling, happy chaos was the perfect shield for Dean to fade into the background and give himself a shake.
“What do you want?” Liana asked, waving the menu in his direction.
That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? He stuck with the safe answer. “A hamburger. Cheese, no onions, extra mustard.”
“Fries?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“A healthy one.”
“Yes, fries.”
“Your heart attack.”
“I worked out for an hour this morning. I can handle some deep fried potatoes.”
“You should have told me. We could have worked out together.”
“It was dark when I got up.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Okay, thanks for not waking me up.”
“You can thank me by not ju
dging the fries.”
“We should be WhisperSnipping this conversation,” Jackie said, curling up on the bed next to Liana.
Right in the middle of Dean’s line of sight. And then she winked at him.
Grown men don’t blush. If he kept telling himself that, maybe he could fight off the painful awareness that the guitarist saw right through him.
Instead of looking away, he leaned back and returned Jackie’s inspection instead. She was his age, maybe, late thirties, early forties. Fit and attractive in an intense kind of way. Her blonde hair was streaked with grey, but she had an interesting combination of youthful vitality and jaded cynicism that would normally be right up his alley.
And it was—as a friend. He’d immediately liked Jackie, and hoped he stayed on her good side. But he wasn’t attracted to her.
Not the way he wanted Liana.
And the comparison, right in front of him, was like a bomb going off in his head.
Jackie would normally be exactly his type, because she promised no strings, no expectations, no demands. A friendly affair would be right up her alley, he’d bet. He could profile her in a heartbeat. Divorced, self-sufficient, comfortable with her body. A woman who enjoys sex.
But Liana…
Jesus, he needed to stop this.
First of all, everything he thought about the singer was probably wrong. She was going through a shit time, that didn’t make her needy. And if she was needy, he wasn’t the man to take care of her.
But he wanted to.
Except he knew he’d let her down—so he needed to remember she wasn’t his type for a reason. He wasn’t good enough for someone like Liana. Not whole enough. Not nearly capable enough of the feelings that women like her deserved.
He thought of Jake and Dani. Of how Rafe looked at Olivia. The way Zander and Faith couldn’t stop touching each other in the sweetest ways. How Ryan had stumbled out of his grief and found Hope—and how the other man would now do absolutely anything for the woman he loved.
Dean wasn’t that guy. It wasn’t in him to be that selfless with a woman, because he knew it would always come to an end.
He wasn’t dumb enough not to see it. He was emotionally stunted at twelve years old.
