by Karina Bliss
Dimity appreciated his gesture, having always disliked the entitlement mentality that many people adopted around the wealthy. With Zee in dispute with insurers, he could potentially lose everything. He was already cashing out to meet litigation costs and pay outstanding tour bills. There were so many ifs and buts to Rage’s future, and too many elements outside her control. She popped the pressurized stopper on the champagne bottle. Bubbles foamed over the neck, and she pressed her mouth to the top to stem the overflow.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so rock ’n’ roll.” Seth commented as he returned with the reheated food—a spicy chicken chili.
Dimity wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “What happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen.” She was safe here, with this man.
“Deal.” He broke the seal on the tequila and poured a finger into the shot glass. “To getting messy.”
She lifted the bottle. “To messy.”
Solemnly, they tapped shot glass against champagne bottle, and drank. Seth returned to his food prep, while she refreshed their drinks. Five minutes later, he placed a piled plate of chili in front of her, garnished with a dollop of sour cream.
“Trying to fatten me up?” she challenged.
“When did you last eat?”
“I had a spinach salad for lunch.”
“No wonder you’re feeling the alcohol.”
She’d been about to push the plate away—nobody fussed over her without push-back—but that made her hesitate. She didn’t want a hangover. And it did smell so good.
“Fine.” She accepted cutlery and a napkin, and they ate in companionable silence for a while, except for the chink of cutlery on china. The cat came in, drawn by the smell of food, and Seth leaned down to pat her. “Sorry, kitty, this is too spicy for you.”
Rising, Dimity found the dry food and poured some into Diamanté’s dish, making effusive apologies to her pet for not feeding her earlier. Because she traveled so much, Dimity shared ownership of the tabby with the cook. One day she hoped to own a whole one. When she returned to her seat, Seth was grinning. “What?”
“Nothing.” He dished himself a second helping, almost as big as the first.
She picked up her fork. “When did you last eat?”
“Not since Mel phoned to break the news at six a.m. She wanted me to be the first to know.”
Wanting to be there at the death, you mean. The bright overhead halogens accentuated the dark circles under his eyes. “Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“We have a lot of mutual friends. She didn’t want me hearing it from anyone else.”
Thoughtfully, Dimity chewed the last morsel of chicken. The last thing she wanted to do was raise false hopes, but what kind of friend would she be not to point out that Mel was sending mixed messages? The question she couldn’t answer—was his ex toying with him, or genuinely torn? Dimity knew nothing about true lurve, other than it never ran smoothly.
She swallowed her mouthful. “She’s conflicted, Seth, she has to be.” Bottom line? No woman in her right mind would lightly relinquish the love of a man so loyal, faithful, and downright lovable. He’d probably been a Labrador in his last life. “You should be exploiting those tender feelings and making her reconsider.”
He shook his head. “Mel’s a grown woman. She’s made her choice.”
“Even if she’s choosing the wrong guy? Being understanding, wanting Mel to be happy, is bullshit if you think she’s making a mistake. And if you love her, you should be fighting for her.”
Seth put down his fork without comment. He looked broody and mad and tortured and unhappy.
“Your strategy’s screwed, too.” Now she’d decided to challenge him, Dimity was remorseless. “As long as you’re patient and pining she’ll relegate you to her back-up plan.”
“Mel knows I’ve started dating again.”
“Oh, please. You’ve been doing the ‘I’ll show her’ with a few one-nighters. You think she’ll take groupies seriously?”
His jaw set. “Make your point.”
“A man’s cock is rarely discriminatory, but his heart…that’s something Mel probably still considers hers. So that’s where you test her conviction. You need a girlfriend.”
“Rent a relationship? She’ll see through that in a second.”
“Not if it’s someone you’ve been around constantly for months. Someone you’ve already talked and tweeted about, someone who is in New Zealand the same time you are. I need an additional project now Mom’s off my plate and Zee’s temporarily off grid.”
Come to think of it, Seth was just the type to retreat to some backwoods cabin with his broken heart and a gallon of whiskey. God knows, he was already dressed for it. And no way was she going to risk him leaving the band.
“Won’t you have enough to do while you’re there, organizing Elizabeth’s book tour, and strategizing Zander’s next move? The moment he releases his prognosis—whichever way it goes—the press will be all over him again.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Spare time is for wimps.” And for those with families. To all intents and purposes, she was now an orphan. Until Helena needed something that her new husband couldn’t provide, Dimity doubted she’d even get a phone call. “Do you want Mel back or don’t you?”
“Yes, but…” Seth massaged his temples. “Let me get this straight. You’ll pretend to be my new girlfriend in the hope that jealousy will trigger second thoughts?”
“I’m thinking more along the lines of Mel having an epiphany, but yes.”
His mouth, with its permanent tilt at the corners, tightened as though he held back a smile by sheer force of will. “Have you ever been in a serious relationship?”
“Outliers have insight. Ask Malcolm Gladwell.”
He laughed out loud. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way you can pretend to be dewy-eyed over a guy. It’s not your style.”
She sighed. “You really have no idea how good I am at this, do you?”
“No?”
“Watch and learn, grasshopper.” Leaning across the counter, she dropped a manicured hand on his bare forearm and gazed into his eyes. Sunshine eyes despite their moody blue color. She’d tried to describe the exact shade in press releases and could only come up with smoky. Now she saw why—striations of brown radiated from his pupils into the faded denim-blue. Another area in which this man was recalcitrant and uncooperative.
Seth laughed, making her aware that she was frowning at him, and she softened her gaze. “You know what I love about you?” she breathed. “You’re a fraud.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Nice start.”
“Everyone thinks you’re this affable, easy-going guy, but it’s not true.” She assessed him through half-closed lashes. “Before you broke up with Mel, I watched you wiggle away from women’s attempts to seduce you. You’d flatter and charm, kiss their fingers as you went to buy them a drink that someone else always delivered. Moss and Jared were the most vocal in band meetings on tour, yet somehow Zee usually ended up adopting your suggestions.”
His smile was all sweetness, but under her palm, his forearm tensed.
Dimity thought of Rage in chess terms. Zander was king, and Dimity, queen. In an ideal world everyone else would be pawns, but she begrudgingly accepted she didn’t live in an ideal world. Until now, she’d wondered if Seth might be a bishop or a knight.
With a shock, she realized he was a far more dangerous rook. A rook began the game quietly in a corner, but was one of only two pieces that could checkmate the opposition alone with their king, making the piece one of the game’s heavies.
Often, the player who employed her rooks most effectively would win. Even more important to keep a close watch on Seth.
She became aware of the warmth of his skin over muscle and unbidden, the image of him naked and pagan shimmered in her mind’s eye. She curled her fingers around his forearm as all her impressions of him crystallized and found their final shape. “You’re a cov
ert rebel,” she said slowly. “But I’m onto you now. I’m the only one who sees behind the Mr. Nice Guy facade and wonders what it would be like to let the beast loose.”
“Is that so?”
His eyes drilled into hers, his pupils dilated, and unexpectedly, heat pooled deep in her belly. His breathing had become more deliberate, in contrast with her own, which she struggled to catch. For a charged moment they stared at each other, neither backing down, then Seth blinked. “Wow, you’re really good.”
“Aren’t I?” Slightly giddy, she checked the label on the bottle of champagne. “This stuff works better than a master class in acting.” Definitely time to stop drinking. “So, back to Mel. Are you really leaving something on the table here? Really?”
He blew out a long breath. “Fuck it, let’s do this. What the hell have I got left to lose?”
“Only all hope.”
He shook his head at her, rueful and weary. “It was a rhetorical question. Can you pull back on the remorseless honesty a tad?”
“Sorry.” Still unsettled by their earlier frisson, she momentarily forgot her resolution and gulped more liquor. “If it doesn’t work out, there’s always the screamer to fall back on.”
“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned Suzanne tonight,” he commented, picking up his fork again. “You must’ve witnessed raunchier sex, working in rock ’n’ roll.”
“The shock came from seeing you end your self-imposed celibacy.” She found it hard not speaking her mind when sober; with champagne aerating her bloodstream she had no chance of guarding her tongue. “After your breakup, I couldn’t work out whether I admired or despised your willingness to suffer when you had so many women wanting to help you feel better.”
He was silent a few seconds, then pushed his plate aside. “I’d gotten used to having sex with someone I loved. It was a tough habit to break.”
His expression was so bleak that she had to look away. This was why she kept relationships transient. Love hurt.
Her discomfort must have shown on her face because he forced a grin. “Suzanne did make me feel better.”
“I’m so glad,” Dimity said warmly. “Even if she did over-act the hell out of it.”
Lifting the shot glass to his mouth, he paused. “Excuse me?”
“The orgasm. She faked it. I mean, c’mon, no one gets that carried away, and not with—” Hearing herself, she stopped.
Very gently, he replaced the glass on the counter. “With?”
“I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“Oh, we’re way past that, you and I,” he said and she felt a prickle of recognition at the glint in his eyes. It had to be a trick of the light. She looked up at the ceiling halogens. Except it had been full daylight the last time she’d seen that glint. It was starting to bother her how susceptible she was to it.
“Not everyone has to be a bad boy in rock,” she pointed out. “I’m sure you’re an awesome lover. Tender, considerate…” She struggled to think of all the positives associated with a beta male. “And probably awesome at kissing and cuddling afterward.”
The outrage on his face. She got the giggles.
Seth folded his arms and waited until they subsided. “Take it back.”
“Never explain, never apologize.” Zee’s maxim worked for her, too.
The stool scraped the hardwood floor as he shoved it back and stood up. “I’m more of a show, don’t tell guy.” He added pleasantly, “Last chance.”
“Listen to you, being all masterful.” Now she’d glimpsed the other side of his nature, it tickled her to tease the friendly lion. Payback for all the times he’d used passive resistance to frustrate her makeovers.
“Have it your way.” He strolled around the counter.
“What are you going to do…cuddle me into an apology?”
“Nope, I have it on good authority that I’m too fucking nice.” He pulled her off her stool. “Still want to get laid?”
She laughed, delighted. “You think you can win a game of chicken against me?”
“I know I can.” Sweeping her plate aside, he caught her around the waist and lifted her onto the counter. The marble top was cold through her jeans.
“You want Mel,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, I do. But as you reminded me an hour ago, she’s made her bed with another man and right now they’re lying in it. Tomorrow we campaign to get her back. Tonight, I’m available to fuck a friend who needs to learn why nice guys make the best lovers.” Casually, he started undoing the buttons of her shirt.
“I thought you said I was too skinny,” she commented, unfazed. He wouldn’t go through with this, not Seth.
“You are too skinny,” he said, pulling the shirt open. Her bra was balcony, her wares beautifully displayed. “But parts of you are perfect.” He traced a finger over the upper swell of her breast and she couldn’t stop a small gasp of surprise escaping. She hadn’t expected him to touch. And certainly hadn’t expected her responsive shiver.
He lifted his hand to brush his thumb across her mouth. “Plump and succulent,” he added huskily. Leaning forward, he caught her lower lip between his teeth, teased his tongue across its fullness and released.
Astonishment held Dimity immobile. Her lip tingling, she stared into his eyes, mere inches from hers.
Seth laughed, deep in his throat. “Honey B, you can’t handle a nice guy. Leave the cage door alone.” He eased back.
Instinctively, she put out a hand to stop him.
Chapter Four
For a long moment they both stared at her hand, curved around his wrist. Dimity opened her mouth to make a smart-ass rejoinder, but heard herself say, “Why are nice guys the best lovers?”
Seth’s gaze lifted to meet hers, no longer teasing. Her pulse quickened.
“Three reasons,” he said. “We pay attention. Every woman has a sexual fantasy. We find out what it is, and give it to her.”
“What was Mel’s?” she said, fascinated, and saw pain flicker. “I’m sorry, forget I asked.” She really needed to learn tact. “What was the swimming pool screamer’s? Other than the desire to be a siren on an ambulance?”
“She wanted to be a mermaid, taken by Poseidon,” he said.
“It’s impossible to have sex with a mermaid. They don’t have legs.”
“Suzanne had great legs.” He brushed his fingers up her calves over her skin-tight jeans and curled them under her knees. “So do you.” Gently, he pulled her knees apart and stepped between until only a few inches separated them. She could feel his body heat through her opened shirt. “And don’t get me started on your ass.”
She was turned on, and he knew it. So was he. And they were drunk and loose and one of them would stop very, very soon. Dimity cleared her throat. “What’s my fantasy?”
Tilting his head, Seth considered. “It might be control, because you’re a take-charge woman. Or it might be to lose control—have it taken away.” Catching her hands, he clasped them behind her back.
She swallowed.
“Oh, yeah,” he said huskily. “It might be that.”
“What’s the second reason?”
Reluctantly, he released her hands. “Nice guys like women.” Carefully, he refastened the buttons on her shirt, one by one. “And you’re not as tough as you make out.” He must be referencing the earlier incident with Luther, which only gave her more to prove. She couldn’t handle anyone thinking she was sensitive.
“You can’t hurt me.” She took over the re-buttoning of her shirt. “No man can. And I’m not hung up on Luther. I just liked the idea of an honorable guy crushing on me. Being good enough.” She realized she was explaining herself poorly when Seth frowned. “I’m not talking about feeling worthy—obviously I don’t have self-esteem issues, but I liked him seeing me as decent and full of moral fiber-iness.”
“The word you’re looking for is nice,” he said.
She scowled. “Take that ba—”
He kissed her, and it w
as slow and tender and fiercely sweet. But she didn’t want his sweetness, and had no idea what to do with tenderness. It scared her, exposed her.
She broke the kiss. “No offense, but you’re home-baked cookies and I like my beefcake raw.”
“Bitch,” he said appreciatively, and kissed her again. It was a punishing kiss, a hard kiss, the kiss of an exasperated man, and she felt herself responding. She’d been intrigued by this side of Seth since she’d seen him with the groupie who didn’t know him well enough to value the contradiction. She wanted the titan she saw on stage, the pool-side debaucher.
This time he was the first to end the kiss. “Well?” he demanded roughly.
“Meh,” she croaked.
He kissed her again, a ravishment, a porn-star kiss, carnal and rude and shockingly intimate.
A man kissing a woman, no friendship in it. No kindness, no pity, no understanding, no sweetness. It was the kiss of a man driven past civilized and Dimity loved it, from him.
Sober, she’d have said her curiosity was strictly scientific. Drunk, she couldn’t lie to herself. She wanted to provoke the abandon she saw when Seth performed on stage. She wanted to be the object of his singular focus. She wanted to know what that rampant power felt like, unleashed on her body.
He stepped in closer and she stifled a moan as his erection met the apex of her thighs. “I will fuck you,” he said, “unless you tell me no. It’s freaky and at least one of us is going to regret this sober, but I want you. So if you’re going to put the brakes on, Dimity, do it now.”
It was a Herculean effort to ignore the press of his cock against the throb between her legs but she managed to instill carelessness into her next words. “Strategically, it’ll be much easier to pretend we’re dating if we’ve comfortable with each other’s bod—”
She gasped as he slid her closer against his heat. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Top of the stairs, turn left, end of the corridor.” She sucked in a breath. “Hurry.”
“Way ahead of you.” Lifting her into his arms, he strode out of the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time. Her bottom hit his thighs on every step. His thighs were hard and strong. She wound her arms around his neck and hung on.
