by Jenna Jacob
“For how long?”
Darren shrugged. “Until they get what they’re after or a bigger story breaks.”
Panic rolled from my toes to the top of my head. But freaking out wasn’t an option.
“Okay. While Dustin is sleeping, we have to come up with a simple explanation for what’s going on before his world turns ugly again.”
“First he needs to know I’m his father. That’s not up for negotiation.”
Though I’d known it was only a matter of time before Darren broached the subject, I hadn’t expected it to be quite this soon.
“I know. We’ll discuss that as well.”
Darren bristled. “I said it’s not non-negotiable.”
“I know that. We made him together, we’ll tell him together. All right?”
“Fine,” Darren bit out, then scowled as he stared over my shoulder. I turned to see another car nearing the house and slowing down. “Let’s get this stuff inside.”
As I stacked the outdoor toys by the back door, Darren sat in the living room talking in low tones on his cell. I secretly hoped he’d leave and return to his hotel so I could enjoy a slice of normalcy. Not that I was treating him like a guest or couldn’t do what I wanted with him here. I simply needed to slide back into my daily groove and unwind in that steaming-hot bubble bath still calling my name. Unfortunately, relaxation was at the bottom of my to-do list right now.
“Yeah, you heard me right. I said my son,” Darren grinned into the phoned. “No. I don’t want you drawing up a press release yet. I’m trying to shield him, not parade him in front of the press, Quinn.”
I couldn’t stop myself from eavesdropping.
“I don’t know. As long as humanly possible.” Darren paused. “Burk knows, but he’s keeping a lid on it until I break the news to my folks. Which I should probably do soon, before the press starts harassing them, too. Yeah, yeah…I’ll call Burk again tonight and let the other guys know.”
I worried about how his parents and the bandmates were going to take the news about our son. Would they be happy and supportive, or…
“Her name’s Tori and she’s…” Darren turned his head and locked a stare on me. A ghost of a smile tugged his lips and his expression slightly softened. “She’s a phenomenal mother.”
Though his compliment was flattering, my foolish heart craved something more passionate and endearing. I knew his agent Quinn had asked about us when Darren turned away.
“No. No. I’ll talk to you about it later,” he replied quietly.
My imagination asked the questions that had gotten his negative response: Have you asked her to marry you? Are you going to ask her?
That’s all it took to send the rusty blade of guilt slicing deep. I wanted to howl for ever lying to him.
“How soon before you can get some security out to us?” Darren asked. “Dinnertime works for me.”
I watched him lean back and pull a tattered napkin from his pocket before reciting my address to the man. “I know the drill. Smile. Wave. And don’t beat the shit out of the reporters. Got it. Thanks, man. I’ll be in touch.”
“Security? Care to fill me in on what the hell’s going on?” Dad asked, opening his eyes as Darren pocketed his cell phone.
“Remember when you commented that I must play guitar real good?” My dad nodded. “Not trying to boast, but I play it a lot better than real good, Ed.”
“Mac Wayman bought Darren his first guitar, Daddy,” I stated.
“The M-Mac Wayman?” Dad stammered, blinking at Darren in shock. “No shit?”
“No shit.” Darren chuckled.
“Darren’s a rock star. He’s as big as, if not bigger than, Mac was.” I whispered, praying the news wouldn’t make my dad stroke out again.
“No shit?”
“No shit.” Darren grinned.
I chuckled softly. “So now that we got the shits and no shits out of the way, we need to discuss how we’re going to tell Dustin that Darren is his dad and a world-famous rock star. Then we have to figure out a way for him to understand why there’s a million people clamoring for a look at him and why there are a bunch of bodyguards watching over him.”
“How many bodyguards will there be?” Dad asked.
“Quinn is sending a four-man detail. Three to watch over us during the day, one stationed here, inside the house, at night.”
“Where are they all going to sleep?” I asked, darting a glance over the not-so-ample living room. “This place isn’t big enough for four more people.”
“They’ll be enjoying the same lovely accommodations I am,” Darren drawled.
I cringed. Though I’d never been inside the hotel on the edge of town, it didn’t look inviting, let alone lovely.
“Have you needed bodyguards like this before?” Dad asked.
“A few times when we received death threats.”
“Death threats?” I choked. “Honest-to-god, death threats?”
“Relax,” Darren soothed as if reading the terror soaring through my system. “They ended up being nothing but a few jealous, pissed-off boyfriends.”
“You can never be too careful nowadays,” Dad stated.
“Right.” Darren nodded. “And I’m not going to risk anything happening to any of you.”
“We truly appreciate what you’re doing.” Dad sent me a reassuring smile. “Don’t stress, baby girl. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Was it? Or was he simply telling me what I wanted to hear? I was afraid to ask.
“Mommy,” Dustin called as he sleepily wandered into the living room, dragging his guitar.
Darren arched his brows. I simply shrugged. It wasn’t his most treasured toy, not like his dinosaur collection, but he enjoyed strumming the strings on the guitar from time to time.
“Guess we’re going to have to wing this. But I think I might have an idea.” There was a strange gleam in Darren’s eyes.
“Let me change him first.”
Before leading our little man back to his room for a fresh diaper and some giggles, I handed Darren the guitar. When we returned, I couldn’t help but smile as I watched the big bad rock star tuning the strings as if it were a Stratocaster.
“I like your guitar,” Darren said as Dustin and I sat down on the couch beside him. “Do you mind if I play it?”
He shook his head and then slumped back against me. I loved snuggling Dustin when he first woke…while he was still recharging his batteries.
Darren started strumming the strings, and even without the drums, keyboard, and bass, I recognized his acoustic rendition of “Empty Nights”—one of the band’s greatest hits.
“The day is done. The night is here. Alone in my bed, you always appear,” Darren sang softly as Dustin bounced to the beat on my lap.
I closed my eyes and remembered watching him perform the night we met.
Inside the arena, I was on my feet, not far from the stage, watching Licks of Leather perform. The screams of the fans were deafening…the excitement in the air electrifying. Mesmerized, I watched Darren move close to the microphone…watched his sinful lips part as he belted out the chorus of this song. I drank in the way his arms bulged and rippled and how his hips ground against the back of the guitar as he raised it, nearly horizontal, to drag each long, screaming note with honed precision.
I’d been aware of the other members around him—Burk singing into the mic, Ross banging on the drums, Ozzy dancing his fingers over the keyboard, and Syd strumming out a heavy bass beat, but I couldn’t tear my focus from Darren. The sheer sight of him, so commanding and strong and completely lost in the music he made, was utterly captivating. So were the tingles and the ache he conjured inside me, even before I saw him backstage.
“Rocky roll. Rocky…Licks,” Dustin cheered, clapping and grinning and dragging me back to the present.
Darren suddenly stopped and blinked at me. “He knows our music?”
“He should,” Dad said with a chuckle. “Tori always listens t
o it when she’s putzing around the house.”
“Oh, really? Is that so?” Darren smirked.
Cheeks growing warm, I shrugged. “It’s good music. I downloaded a few…albums.”
“Uh-huh. Hey, Dustin. Do you know this one?”
Diving straight into the chorus of another hit, “Make Your Fortune,” Darren grinned when our son scooted to the edge of my knees and started belting out a few of the words.
After setting the guitar down, Darren pulled out his phone and tapped the screen, then held it out for Dustin to see a photo of the band.
“This is Licks of Leather, little man.”
Instantly, Dustin’s eyes grew wide. Then he pressed his chubby little finger to the screen and chanted, “Darren,” over and over again.
“That’s right.” I nodded. “Darren plays guitar for Licks of Leather.”
“More song,” Dustin demanded, leaning forward and reaching for the guitar.
“I’ll play some more songs later. But there’s something I need to tell you first.”
I sucked in a shallow breath as Darren and I exchanged pensive stares…but for entirely different reasons.
I was terrified that he was expecting hugs and kisses and endless tears of happiness when Dustin found out he had a daddy. But I knew my child…knew his cognitive limitations. All I hoped for was a smile.
“You know when you’re at playgroup and sometimes Tommy and Phillip get picked up by their daddies?” I asked him. Dustin nodded. “Well…”
“I’m your daddy,” Darren said softly and then held his breath.
“Darren, my daddy?”
“Yeah. I’m your daddy, little man.” Darren exhaled.
“Okay. More song?”
Darren looked completely crushed.
I sent him a pained but sympathetic expression before a slow smile speared his sexy lips and a loud, long laugh rolled from deep in his chest.
“Sure. More song. Why not? Will you help me play the guitar?”
Dad and I were still laughing as Dustin launched off my lap and crawled onto Darren’s.
I purposely stayed in the shadows for the next few hours to give father and son time to bond. Okay, to give Darren that opportunity. Dustin was quite content simply playing in the backyard with the man after the guitar was put away.
Dad was in his room watching college football, while I wandered into the kitchen to figure out something for dinner. Looking out the window above the kitchen sink, I grinned as I watched Darren teaching our son how to hit a baseball. I turned and was reaching for the handle of the fridge when the doorbell rang.
Assuming the cavalry of bodyguards had arrived, I hurried to the door and pulled it open.
A microphone was thrust toward my mouth and a camera was in my face.
“Tori Combs?” Asked a woman I recognized as a reporter from a Kansas City television station. “Hi. I’m—”
“I know who you are and why you’re here. But I have no comment. Please leave.”
As I started to close the door, the pretty brunette blocked it with her foot.
“Tori?” Darren called from the kitchen.
“Stay back,” I yelled over my shoulder before pinning the reporter with an icy glare. “Get your foot off the threshold and your ass off my property.”
“What’s…” Darren’s question died on his lips. “Aw, hell.”
“Quick, zoom in on Darren and get a good shot of the kid,” the reporter fervently instructed.
A feral roar erupted behind me as Darren snaked an arm around my waist, tugged me behind him, and lunged onto the porch in one long stride. He gripped the camera lens in one broad hand, ripped it off the photographer’s shoulder, and slammed it to the cement. Plastic and glass exploded in a shower of sparks and smoke.
“Get out of here before I call the police,” he thundered.
“You…you…” the reporter stammered. “You just destroyed a thirty-thousand-dollar camera.”
“Send me a bill,” Darren barked as he backed into the house and slammed the door in her face.
“Mommy?” Dustin whined.
“Shit,” Darren mumbled under his breath before dropping to one knee and opening his arms. “Come here, buddy. It’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid. Daddy took care of it.”
Faking a smile, I nodded. “He’s right. You’re okay. Everything is…” The words died on my lips. I wasn’t going to lie to him. Everything wasn’t okay, but I knew Darren, Dad, and I would do everything in our power to protect and shield him from the coming chaos.
As Darren lifted Dustin in his arms, I closed the drapes in the front room and locked the door.
“Who wants to help make tacos?” I asked, knowing Dustin never turned down the chance to play with my pots and pans while I cooked.
“Me, me,” he cheered, right on cue.
And in the blink of an eye, all the fear and worry evaporated from his face. If only mine could vanish as easily.
“You’re pretty darn good at this parenting thing,” Darren whispered as Dustin sat on the floor, stirring an empty saucepan with a wooden spoon.
“You’re still a rookie. You’ll earn your badge soon.”
“Yeah? You plan on letting me stick around long enough to pin it on me?”
“Maybe. When do you go back on tour?”
“I’m working on that. Hopefully, not for a long time.”
Butterflies tumbled in my stomach, and foolish as it might be, the wings of hope spread and soared before I could stop them.
“I hope that, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Darren smiled and plopped down on the floor beside Dustin, and the two of them banged the bottom of my saucepans with wooden spoons like drums. Even Dad joined them as I smiled and whipped up dinner.
An hour later, dinner was done and the kitchen was clean and I’d just stepped into the living room when the doorbell rang.
Dread climbed through me as Darren hurried to the door and peered out the peephole.
“It’s okay,” he assured before opening the door and inviting four men, as big as grizzly bears and wearing dark suits, inside.
The cavalry had arrived. From the glimpse of news vans and people milling at the end of the driveway, it was none too soon.
“Hello, folks, I’m Kevin McCoy,” announced the man with sandy-blond hair, gentle blue eyes, and a calm smile. “Y’all got quite a party gathering out there.”
“Darren Ash,” he stated, extending his hand. “I’m afraid that’s just the beginning.”
McCoy shook it and grinned. “We weren’t expecting anything less.”
Introductions were made, and the new additions to our family, Ruben Green, Tony Thomas, and Al Robinson, went above and beyond to put our wide-eyed and painfully confused son at ease.
Before heading back to the hotel with McCoy, Thomson, and Robinson, Darren helped me tuck Dustin in, reading him a bedtime story and singing him another song.
As we left his room, Darren asked, “Is there someplace we can talk, in private?” Sending up a silent prayer that I could keep my distance, and my hands off him, I led him to my room. A smile tugged his mouth as he eyed my feminine décor. “Yeah, this room is definitely you.”
“What’s that mean?”
“That means…it’s beautiful.” He moved in close and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Try to get some sleep tonight, okay?”
I nodded, staring too long at his lips. Hungry shivers wracked my body, and still, I couldn’t look away. I knew loving him, though useless and foolish, wasn’t a choice. No, that was completely out of my control.
“Aw, fuck it,” Darren growled before cinching a fist in my hair and tugging my head back.
Chapter Eight
Darren
Tori still tasted as sweet as honey, and the feel of her lush, warm curves pressed against me again...pure heaven. The serenity and peace I’d lost so long ago were now shining light in every crevice of the dark and
empty spaces inside me.
Right now, I didn’t give a fuck that she’d set me up, sold me out, and kept my son a secret. Because drinking down her kitten-soft mewls as she restlessly writhed against me, I was finally home.
Tongues tangling, sucking, and slashing, I gripped her supple ass cheeks and ground her sweet pussy against my throbbing dick. When she tossed all inhibitions aside, clutched my neck, and wrapped her legs around my waist, a grunt of approval tore from my chest.
Ambling in the direction of her bed, crest nudging her heated center with each step, I nearly tossed Tori onto the mattress when my legs met the frame. Instead, I slowly lowered her to the fluffy comforter and followed her down, laving, nipping, and kissing the milky column of her neck. Her fingernails scored the flesh beneath my shirt as she arched, bucked, and moaned beneath me.
Fisting the front of her shirt, I peeled the fabric down her shoulder. Freeing her full breasts, I bathed them with my tongue and pressed her hard berry nipple to the roof of my mouth. But my quest to devour her was rudely interrupted with a soft tap at the door.
I snapped a furious glare over my shoulder to see Ed standing in the portal, wearing an expression part wrath, part embarrassment. Like a jackrabbit, I leaped off the bed while Tori righted her shirt.
“Sorry to disturb you two, but the others are ready to head to the hotel.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Tori breathlessly called to his retreating form.
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” She gaped, arching her brows and then shaking her head. “No. You can’t leave me leave me like this, all boiling and… This isn’t fair.”
Fighting back a laugh, I plucked her up off the bed and dragged her hand to my straining cock. “No, it’s definitely not fair. I’m boiling just as hard as you are, beautiful.”
“Oh, god,” she whimpered, gripping my thundering shaft.
“I could always call you once I get to my room. We could talk each other through a little relief.”
