(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5)

by Michelle Mankin

  “Thanks.” I tilted my head. I’d never said a bad word about my stepfather to Ollie. Not that I didn’t trust him; it was just Hollywood Basics 101. Never badmouth anyone unless your plan was not to work in the entertainment business long.

  “A lot of us are pulling for you to take Samuel down, Hollie. He’s abused his privileges. I have more than a few clients who’ve shared about unpleasant dealings with him. They’ve been cheering for you since the charges came out. I’ve been cheering for you.” He inclined his head to the door, his eyes narrowing. “Someone seems to be waiting for you. Your security man?”

  “Yeah,” I said as Cash slid open the door, his massive form and immense frown nearly taking up all the space.

  “Maximillian Cash,” my bodyguard said gruffly, extending his arm.

  “Ollie Sanders.” My trainer reached to take the hand offered to him.

  Both men had amazingly defined musculature. Cash was as tanned as Ollie. Everyone in California seemed to worship the sun, but my bodyguard’s skin was also heavily freckled.

  They clasped hands and stared each other down. Biceps bulged. Forearms strained as they squeezed, and they narrowed their gazes. Obviously, they were pitting their strengths against each other, taking each other’s measure. The air popped with tension, like their veins.

  “Nice to meet you.” Ollie lifted his chin and the tension abated. Apparently, Cash passed the test. “Take good care of this little lady. She means a lot to me.”

  “She means a lot to a lot of people,” Cash said, lifting his chin in return.

  Were they allies now? Just like that?

  “See ya, Hollie.” Lifting a hand over his shoulder, Ollie turned and walked away.

  “Tomorrow. Yeah.” I watched my trainer for a moment, mentally shaking my head at how easily guys bonded, and then I turned around.

  “You didn’t take a long break,” I mumbled to Cash, pretending my heart hadn’t fluttered when I’d first seen him standing in the doorway, and pretended further that it didn’t flutter more as I stepped inside and slipped past him.

  He smelled good, clean and soapy, as if he’d just showered. My shoulder brushed against his chest. It was like grazing a block of granite, except for the heat that blasted me. My melted legs wobbled.

  I heard the door slide closed behind me. My heartbeat sped up as the lock clicked. Locked inside the suite. Alone with Cash.

  Intimate, this felt so very intimate. After earlier—whatever it had been that had happened—things felt different between us.

  “I’m headed to the shower.” My voice had a breathy quality to it that had nothing to do with my workout.

  Keep going, Hollie, I told myself as I reached the halfway point between the living room and the bedroom. Don’t think about what happened. Don’t think about him. Definitely don’t think about being naked in the shower with him here, just on the other side of the suite.

  “It felt long being apart from you,” he said, completely obliterating the framework of the world as I’d previously known it. “The entire time, I counted the minutes until I decided I’d been away long enough that you would consider it as a break. But I was miserable. I’d much rather have stayed here with you.”

  I stopped inside the doorway to the bedroom. My heart thumped wildly as his heavy footfalls followed behind me.

  “Hollie.”

  My breath caught as he touched my arm. A soft touch of his skin to mine, but that gentleness ignited a spark, and my whole body became an electrical conduit of heat.

  “Don’t.” I grabbed the door frame with my hand. “Don’t play games with me.”

  “I’m not playing games. I was trying to do the right thing. You’re underage, and my employer. I thought I had it straight in my mind, but then I went away and came back to see you standing there with someone else.”

  He exhaled a humid breath that felt like the prelude to a lover’s kiss on the sensitive skin on the back of my neck, and I shivered.

  “One look, and I knew that nothing makes sense except that I want to be with you.”

  He put his hands on my arms. Shocked, I glanced down at the long, masculine fingers wrapped around them.

  “Can’t you look at me?” He gently turned me around.

  I glanced up, rocked by his earnest expression. I could barely process his words, let alone formulate a reply, given the insistent pounding of my pulse and the undeniable rush of heat and hope coursing through my body.

  “Talk to me.” His eyes searched mine. “Tell me I didn’t mess things up. That we can work this out.”

  I felt myself sliding into the warm limpid depths of his beseeching gaze.

  My cell suddenly rang. Well, it blared a love-and-light-filled Academy-award-winning song inside the pocket of my shorts.

  “That’s Fanny,” I whispered. “She calls every day at this time to check in on me. I need to take this.” I offered an apology in my eyes.

  “Of course.” The clear blue in his gaze turning murky, Cash released me. “Don’t let me keep you.”

  His lips flat, he dipped his head and took a step back. The warmth was gone. Flesh and bone transformed to stone. The abrupt change from the heat of his passion to the cold of his professionalism made me unsteady.

  “The call is obviously what’s important,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “And gives me my answer. Two birds, one stone. My apologies. Let’s pretend this never happened. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

  Chapter Eight

  * * *

  “Hello?”

  Answering my phone, I dropped onto the bed and stared listlessly at the door I’d just closed. The image of Cash with his back turned to me filled my mind while his words clanged in my ears. I released a shaky breath, rubbing my chest with my free hand. The inside of it burned as though a downed power wire sizzled and snapped within it.

  “What took you so long to answer the phone?” My sister’s beautiful melodic voice centered me.

  “I . . . was . . . working out.”

  “You don’t sound right.” Suspicion raised her voice an octave. Fanny wasn’t buying the lie, well aware that I stumbled between words when I wasn’t telling the truth. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “Not really.”

  “Did Samuel do something?”

  “No. I haven’t heard anything from him directly. The lawyers are handling everything.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Cash,” I whispered, my gaze remaining on the door. I felt like I’d just weathered an unexpected storm. Had I avoided a mistake or missed an opportunity?

  “What about him?”

  “I think he likes me.” I twisted the comforter in my fingers. “But . . .”

  “Of course he likes you. Everyone likes you. Every stranger is your new next friend. You’re just like Mom was in that regard.”

  “I’m not.” I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me.

  “You are. You’re sweet. People are comfortable around you. That’s because you have a gentle spirit, just like she did.”

  “Gentle, meaning I’m a pushover,” I grumbled.

  “No,” Fanny said firmly. “Gentle, meaning you’re kind.” She sighed. “You don’t see yourself accurately. You’ve been putting yourself down a lot lately. I wonder if that’s because of what happened with Samuel.”

  I froze.

  “You’re not responsible for what he did.” She kept going before I could get a word in to stop her. “You should talk to someone about it. About the way it was growing up. Make sure you get it all straight in your head.”

  “I can’t,” I whispered. “If I see a shrink, I’ll have to disclose that in court. I would make his case for him. The lawyers would use it against me, and I’d lose everything.” And Samuel would win like he always did.

  “I never should have left you alone in that house with him.” Now she sounded as defeated as I felt.

  “You had a life to live, and a business to start separate from
him.” That was exactly what I was attempting to do.

  “But I should have taken you with me.”

  “You were barely able to make ends meet when you started out. You didn’t need the added burden of being a guardian to a minor.”

  “You’re not a burden, Hollie.”

  “I feel like one sometimes. I did in OB while you were going out and risking your life to get us food, while I did nothing but hide in the sub-pump structure.”

  “We had reason to believe he might do you and me physical harm.”

  “He didn’t kill her. It was an accident, what happened on the boat.”

  “We know that now, thanks to your lawyer. But Samuel is still responsible for making her life a living hell, and screwing us both up in the process.”

  “He didn’t screw you up, Fanny.”

  “Not permanently, maybe, thanks to Ash. Love makes a difference, like Mom always said. It can help you find your way and see things clearer.”

  “It made a difference for you and Ash because he’s a great guy and you’re you.”

  “This sounds a lot like a conversation we had before.”

  “In Ash’s bedroom. When we were packing up to come here,” I said. “I remember.”

  “You’re stronger than you realize.”

  Her side of the line went quiet for a moment. I could almost imagine I could hear the waves in Ocean Beach crashing in the background.

  “But me telling you won’t help you believe it. That’s something you’re going to have to prove to yourself.”

  “Knowing you believe in me means the world to me. Having your love makes a difference in my life, Fanny. I’ve doubted a lot of things, but I’ve never for a single moment doubted I had your affection.”

  “Ditto, Hols. But speaking of doubt, why the uncertainty with Cash?”

  I snorted. “How much time do you have?”

  “As much time as you need.”

  “My mind’s pretty cluttered where he’s concerned.”

  “Ash is downstairs in the studio with the band. He’ll be down there for hours, tinkering on the album. I actually thought about driving up there in the Wagon to see you, but I was afraid I’d spend most of that time stuck in traffic instead of with you.”

  “Definitely easier to talk on the phone.”

  “I don’t know about easier. It’s hard being away from you. I miss you. All those weeks with you in Ocean Beach, I got used to having you around. Used to talked to you face-to-face. Hugging you whenever I wanted.”

  “I miss you too.” My throat tightened, my eyes stinging with emotion.

  “So, Cash? He likes you. But how do you feel about him?”

  “He’s older.” Nearly seven years older. But I liked that. After everything I’d been through, I felt older. Guys my own age seemed immature. “He works for me.”

  “Reasons not to get involved, Hols. It’s a complicated situation. There are definite issues you have to resolve. I know you remember the difficulties between me and Ash. Difficult doesn’t mean it’s not right for the two of you to be together. It just means it won’t be easy. So, do you like Cash or not?”

  “I like him. He’s protective, and careful with me.” After what Samuel had done, a guy who wasn’t forceful physically was a high priority for me. “And when he lets down his guard, he says really nice things that make me feel . . .”

  “Like you’re better than you think you are.”

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “I’m really glad to hear that. Solidifies my impression of him. For what it’s worth, I like him. Liked him right off the bat, really. Ash thinks pretty highly of him too.”

  “You’ve been talking about me?”

  “You’re my sister. I worry about you. I confide my concerns to the man I love. But I don’t worry about Cash.”

  “I’m worried about him.”

  “You’re afraid you’ll get hurt.”

  It already hurt. “Yeah.”

  “It’s up to you then, to be brave and strong. I’m not going to tell you what to do. But maybe I can give you a little sisterly nudge.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Your birthday’s coming up.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me. My turning eighteen and legal got me in this mess.”

  “I don’t think of the fact that you’re turning eighteen as a mess. I think of it as a momentous occasion to celebrate.”

  “I’m stuck in this hotel room until my manager deems it advantageous for me to make an outside scheduled appearance.”

  “I’ve already cleared it with her.”

  “Cleared what?”

  “A party. Here in OB. With me and Ash. The band. And all the friends you made while you were here in OB.”

  “Really?”

  “You bet.”

  “Can Ernie come?”

  “Already invited and accepted. He’s helping with the decorations. And you should think about inviting Cash.”

  “He’s my bodyguard, Fanny. He has to come.”

  “We’ve booked the Deck Bar for a private party. They have their own security. And with all of us there, you’ll have plenty of protection. Invite Cash to come with you, not as a bodyguard but as a friend.”

  Chapter Nine

  * * *

  I took my shower, wrapped myself up in a white hotel robe, and wiped the fog of condensation from the mirror. The terrycloth wrapped around my body was way too big on me. The hem brushed my ankles. Wearing it, I felt like a child playing dress-up and not like a teenager on the verge of being an adult.

  Leaning forward, my hands on the granite counter, I peered closer at the freshly scrubbed face staring back at me from the mirror.

  The shape wasn’t too bad. More proportional and not as rounded as it had been when I was younger. My cheekbones had promising height. The sprinkling of light freckles provided interest. My lips were full and a pleasing blush color. My jaw was prominently defined.

  Photographers often commented how much they liked my profile. My brows were auburn, several shades darker than my strawberry-blond hair. They were beautifully arched, the only feature so far that had been cosmetically enhanced. The darker color and sweeping arch drew attention to my eyes. Wide and gray with a slight upward flare at the outer edges, they were my favorite feature. I focused on them when practicing different emotions that I then used on camera. The vanity light made the matte surface of them sparkle right now, or maybe that was a combination of fear and excitement.

  For surely, I’d been contemplating Fanny’s suggestion as I showered. Certainly, just the mere thought of inviting Cash to my party made my heart race. Truly, a tiny crease of trepidation formed between my eyes.

  Was I brave enough to do it? To put myself out there? That downed-power-line feeling in my chest returned. Was chemistry enough of a reason to undertake the risk of being shot down again?

  A knock sounded on the door, and I turned away from the mirror. My hand rising to pull the lapels of my robe together, I slowly swiveled toward his voice.

  “Miss Wood,” Cash said. “Dinner’s here.”

  I tiptoed closer to the bedroom door, extremely conscious of my nakedness beneath the robe. “I didn’t order room service.”

  My gaze dipped to the door pull. Had I bolted the lock on it? How close was he standing to it? Would he try to slide it open without permission? He’d done it before for Carter Besille.

  “I ordered dinner. For both of us. I chose some things I thought we both would like, and used my credit card. I hope that’s okay?”

  “Sure. Only I’m not dressed, and I’m not that hungry. Maybe you could just put mine in the fridge for later.”

  I held my breath, staring at the closed door between us as a pause stretched out.

  “I’m sorry, Hollie,” he said softly. “If you come out, I’ll try to do better. You need to eat, and I hoped we might eat together. Maybe talk things through a little.”

  That was an opening. My cue. Penciled in the script margin, a
pivotal plot point.

  Heroine firms her spine. Digs deep for her determination. Makes her move.

  “Okay.” I reached for the door pull. The bronzed metal was cool in my grip. I slid the door open to find Cash directly on the other side of it. Not in uniform. Not even wearing shoes. His blond hair tousled as if he’d run his hands repeatedly through it while I showered. His expression was sheepish, those ocean-colored eyes fixed on me and turbulent.

  Apologetic Casual Cash took my breath away.

  “This okay? Me not in uniform?” he asked.

  “Yes.” I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “If you’re okay with me like I am. I mean, you’re practically in formal wear comparatively.”

  “I’ve notice you’ve got a big vocabulary. But the robe’s a little large for you.” He raked his gaze slowly over me.

  I shrugged. “Impressive verbal skills courtesy of a Beverly Hills private school education.”

  There was more to it involving my mom, but this wasn’t two individuals baring their souls to each other. It was me cracking open the door to a possibility. A possibility who was checking me out, so I did a little investigative trekking of my own.

  His masculine feet were large. The hems of his jeans were ragged. The faded denim clung to his muscular calves, thighs, hips . . . My gaze didn’t linger there, though I certainly noted, as I’d noted before, the impressive thickness and length of him.

  My lips parting, I swiped my tongue across them and dragged my gaze higher. He wore his tee untucked, the maroon cotton faded like his jeans. The 2 Rows Back band logo in the center of it was barely legible anymore.

  Were they his favorite band?

  Short-sleeved, the tee stretched to contain his wide shoulders. Every defined inch of his chest was delineated, and above that, his thick neck was taut. The tendons on each side seemed strained.

  Was he nervous like I was?

  “Are you wearing clothes under the robe?” he asked, his voice thick like syrup.

  “No.” I shook my head. “I just stepped out of the shower.”

  “Damn.” His Adam’s apple bobbing, he swallowed and lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck as if his skin suddenly blazed hot.