by Eden Summers
That was the problem.
Chapter Four
Atlanta, Georgia.
Ryan slumped into the sofa and placed his cell down on the coffee table. He was supposed to be somewhere. With someone. But he couldn’t think. Couldn’t move past the feeling of his life being tipped upside down and all the goodness shaken out.
Back in Orlando, Rockin’ Gossip had snapped up the opportunity to share the exclusive photos of him and Felicity. Hours later, his world was under a microscope. The Internet had been smothered with the image of him smiling down at his ‘newfound love.’ And the happy snap taken in the hotel lobby—the selfie with the young woman—was all the evidence Reckless fans needed to lose their minds over the relationship story.
The ‘practically unknown lead singer of Slicker’ was now amassing followers along with sales, the number gradually building with every passing hour. He, on the other hand, had received tweets, comments, and emails questioning his morals. You’re not even divorced yet. Give your wife a chance to move on. And another—So much for the dedication to your marriage. Did you even think about how Julie would feel? #player #typical #growup.
He’d frantically blocked or deleted all the slander in his timeline, completely unaware of how to react to the negativity. Maybe he was meant to ignore his reputation going to shit. Leah hadn’t mentioned the nastiness. Neither had his bandmates.
The worst part was knowing exactly how his ex would feel, and it had no reflection on the response she posted on Twitter claiming heartbreak and disappointment. Julie would be pissed he’d moved on before she did. End of story. And evidently from the call he’d just received from his lawyer, she was trying to use the information to manipulate the divorce negotiations.
“Ryan.”
He stiffened at Felicity’s call from the hotel hall and picked his phone up off the table. “Shit.” That’s where he was supposed to be. Not in his suite taking midnight calls from his legal team, but out with Felicity creating more speculation and hype about the fake relationship.
He jogged to the door and swung it open. “I’m sorry. I got caught up in a phone call.”
“Bad news?”
“My lawyer.”
She cringed. “Shit must be getting real if he’s calling after midnight. Do you want to postpone going out?”
Yes. Permanently. “You know we can’t.”
Her cringe remained. “I know.” She offered him a sad smile. “Are you ready?”
He looked down at himself and remembered the five second shower he’d had and the quick change of clothes. “Yeah. I guess.” He yanked the room card out of the holder and pulled the door shut behind him.
“You look exhausted.” She strode by his side, refreshed and picture perfect after the night’s performance. “Are you having second thoughts?”
Every damn minute of every damn day. “Nah. I’m good. I’ll kick out of the adrenaline detox soon and be back to normal.”
Truth was, he’d been dreading every breath inching him toward the imminent kiss. It didn’t matter how many texts he received from Felicity, or the amount of effort she was now putting in since the overnight increase in popularity. The act was a necessary evil. One soon to be unleashed.
“How about you?” He pressed the elevator button. “Are you dying to kiss me yet?”
She rolled her eyes with flair. “I can barely restrain myself.”
He wished it were the truth. Kissing a willing woman, even though his head and heart weren’t engaged, would be far better than forcing himself on someone who wasn’t interested. Again. “Good to know. I’ll make sure I don’t disappoint.”
He entered the hotel elevator and rested against the back wall. The mirrors surrounding them reflected a publicist’s dream—two young and talented people with the world at their feet. But what loomed over him was a building nightmare. He’d deflected paparazzi for years, now he had to embrace them. He’d safeguarded his private life to maintain his sanity, now he had to plaster it over the Internet.
Everything had changed. There was nothing left to cling to. His friends were paired off. His wife was no longer around to bring comfort. Not even Leah was willing to help him through the turmoil. He’d wanted to talk to her about the Internet trolls who were popping out of the woodwork. Hell, he would’ve given anything to hear her voice, even in anger, but her cell kept cutting straight to voicemail.
“Hands?” Felicity reached her fingers toward his. “That was the plan, right?”
“Yeah.” The plan. He joined their palms, the softness of her skin brushing his. There was no comfort in her touch, only a double-dose of shame. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
The elevator doors opened and he led her into the lobby. Lights glistened from every angle, sparkling off marble and glass. Then the flash, flash, flash of cameras blinded his periphery.
“They were here when I arrived.” Felicity jutted her chin toward the entrance. “Hotel security had to usher me inside.”
A white limo was parked out front, the centerpiece to the small crowd of people waving posters, banners, and Reckless T-shirts behind a rope barricade.
“I tipped them off.”
He swung around at the sound of Leah’s voice and dragged Felicity along for the ride.
“They’re not aware of your destination,” she continued, her business suit far sexier than Felicity’s midriff top and tight jeans. “But if they don’t follow you to the club, let me know and I’ll send Alana along to take some snaps.”
“I don’t think we’ll need it.” Felicity nestled into his side, maintaining the charade with a little too much devotion. “Since the original photos were leaked, I haven’t been able to blink without someone posting it on the Internet.”
“Good.” Leah’s attention dropped to his hand, the fingers entwined with Felicity’s.
His chest tightened, waiting for a glimpse of pain, even a slice of distaste. Not that he craved her torment. All he wanted was the slightest affirmation to keep him hopeful for their future. A future that kept seeming further and further away.
Right time. Right place.
“The public has never seen you lusting over a woman.” A heavy swallow was her only reaction. “You always kept it private with Julie. This will be the first opportunity to give them a taste.”
“Give them more ammunition to troll me online, you mean?”
She finally met his gaze. “No. Not ammunition. Validation. Your fans are shocked. I’m sure they’ll have a change of heart once you convince them you’re happy.”
Happy? Was she kidding? He was a mess, barely able to break a smile, let alone persuade anyone he was enjoying himself. “Leah, this—”
“I’m going to make sure the driver is ready.” She began backtracking, her pantsuit tailored to cling to every curve of her body. “Club security expected you ten minutes ago.”
His world darkened, the final glimmer of light being snuffed. She kept fleeing from him. Over and over. The default setting morphing from annoying to unignorable. “Wait.”
She paused, a questioning brow rising.
He begged her with his eyes, begged for her friendship and forgiveness, begged for one glimmer of what they once had, or what could still be. “I think I need to ditch the club.”
His sense of failure intensified. He couldn’t handle a crowd right now. Not the people or the loud music. What he wanted was to tell her how this situation was tearing him apart. To explain to his best friend how much he loathed being this man—the one the world was growing to hate. And he needed, more than anything, for her to listen and say, “I know,” because she did. She did know. She knew everything about him, and seeing her act like this situation was just another day and just another task was brutal.
“What?” Felicity dropped his hand and moved in front of him. “You don’t want to go out?”
He kept his focus on Leah as she approached. “I don’t think I can fake it in front of the cameras tonight.”
“But you’ve been doi
ng a great job.” Leah slayed him with her curiosity. “I thought you were starting to enjoy this.”
Enjoy? She was definitely kidding. “I’m tired. I’m in a hell of a mood. And I don’t have the energy to play happy families.”
“Then don’t.” She hiked a thumb over her shoulder toward open glass doors. “Go to the bar and keep it real. Talk. Drink. Be yourself.”
“What about the photo op?” Felicity asked.
“I’ll speak to the limo driver and tell him his services are no longer needed. I’m sure the crowd will ask what’s going on while I’m out there. I can let them know you’ve decided to have a quiet night at the bar instead.” Leah gave a halfhearted smile. “They’ll follow. They always do. And the bar windows aren’t tinted, so if you pick a seat that isn’t entirely secluded you’ll get the publicity.”
Felicity turned to him, her gaze earnest. “Ryan?”
He could see the worry in her eyes. The concern for her career. She couldn’t lose momentum now Slicker was finally gaining attention. They both needed to keep this story moving.
“I can handle something quiet.”
Leah nodded and headed for the entrance without another word. He watched her leave, watched every single step until she was outside working her magic on the shouting crowd.
“Come on.” Felicity grabbed his hand. “This’ll be painless after you’ve got a few drinks under your belt.”
It had taken two, but that was merely to dull the edge of his self-loathing as photographers snapped pictures of them through the windows of the bar. Another two drinks in quick succession had him in a state of painless lethargy.
“I can’t handle this.”
“Huh?” He glanced up from his Scotch and didn’t like her defeated expression. “What can’t you handle?”
“This.” She waved a hand between them. “The knife’s edge. The anticipation. I think we need to expedite the journey a little.”
“Expedite?” He took a sip of his drink. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“We’re on a tight schedule. We don’t have long to build this career-saving hype that’s supposed to make Slicker a worldwide sensation.”
He narrowed his gaze, scrutinizing her. “From someone who couldn’t withhold a flinch whenever I stepped within two feet, you’ve sure changed your tune.”
“I’ve been trying to focus on what matters. Before, I thought I was hurting people unnecessarily. I’ve since realized the publicity is working, so they’ll have to deal with it. We’re finally gaining traction on our music.”
Again, it didn’t sound like her. Not when she’d been messaging him last night about her anxiety. “Who have you been talking to?”
“No one.” She broke eye contact and stared toward the bar. “The sooner we get this over with, the better, right?”
“Was it Scott? Did he tell you we need to move this along?”
She raised her wine glass, took a slow sip, still not meeting his gaze.
“It is, isn’t it? He called you and told you to speed things up.”
“He has a point. Nobody cares if we’re holding hands or chatting. They want the juicy stuff. They want headlines and scandal.” Her eyes were distraught as she turned to face him and gulped the remainder of her wine. When she raised to her feet his chest concaved, the pain tightening on her approach. “Let’s give them what they want.”
“This isn’t you, Felicity.” He held his breath, his muscles tense while she straddled his lap. All he could think of was Leah, how he was betraying his feelings for her, how her consciousness was nudging the back of his neck.
“No, it’s the bottle of wine.” Her grin was weak. “But once this is over, I’ll be able to sleep at night.”
He wasn’t so certain. He’d be happy to put it off for as long as possible. Hell, he’d be happy to fake the whole kissing thing and hope photographers took advantage of deceptive angles and bad lighting.
“It’ll also get the hurt over and done with.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, the delicate touch harming more than it helped.
“The hurt?” He grazed his thumb over her cheek, not because he needed to keep up the act, but to sooth the pain emanating from her.
“People I care about.” She focused on his lips, his hair, his beard. “They don’t agree with what I’m doing. The sooner they realize this is a strategy, nothing personal, the better.”
“Are you sure?” He heard the click of a cell camera, then another and another. People inside the bar were taking photos, lapping up his demise and capturing it for eternity.
“Are you?” she countered, meeting his gaze.
“I don’t think I have a choice. I can’t let my friends down.”
“And I have no choice either.” She leaned in closer, the scent of sugary sweet breath sinking into his lungs. “Let’s just do this.”
She repositioned herself, her crotch brushing his cock. He stiffened, waiting for a spark, a reaction from places down south… Nothing. His dick was in hibernation. Out cold. But it wasn’t like everything inside him was dead. He cared for her. Just not in a way that compared to anything he felt for Leah.
“This doesn’t feel right.” She paused, her lips an inch from his.
No shit. He chuckled, because what else could he do? “I don’t think it ever will.” He pressed his forehead to hers, not sure if he’d prefer things to stay sterile, or if it was best to move on, at least temporarily, to keep his mind off the massive piles of crap surrounding him.
“I don’t like hurting people.”
Me either. “I’m sure this will be painless.”
She nodded, her hair tickling his cheeks. “OK.”
“OK?” Shit. He wasn’t prepared for acquiescence. He was still reeling, teetering on the edge of stupidity and obligation.
“OK,” she whispered.
The closer she came, the harder his chest pounded, the thicker his blood clogged in his veins. Breathing became a struggle under the drowning thoughts of another woman.
She was everywhere.
She was everything.
“I can’t do this.” He tilted his face, diverting the course of Felicity’s mouth to his cheek. His eyes were shrouded in her hair, her perfume sinking into his lungs. She smelled good—sweet, clean, and familiar. But nothing changed inside him. There was no glimmer of warmth. No lust. No excitement.
No Leah.
Hell.
“Then what do we do?” Felicity’s voice was shaky, the hint of rejection hitting him square in the conscience.
“Stay close.” He cradled the back of her head, letting his fingers slide through her hair as he nuzzled her cheek. Her breasts were against his chest, her crotch right where any hot-blooded man would want it. But he wasn’t hot-blooded. He was cold. Made of ice. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We both knew this wouldn’t be easy.” She exhaled a breath and pulled back. “Are you still in love with your wife?”
He could’ve scoffed, or laughed, or set her straight with innumerable words to paint a vivid picture of his loveless marriage. Instead he nodded. Because nodding was easier than admitting the truth.
“I thought so.” She slid onto the couch beside him, her legs now draped over his. “Do you have kids?”
“No.” He shook his head. “But I wanted them.” Badly.
Her eyes were kind, the pity soul deep. “If it’s any consolation, I think the vultures enjoyed the show. Men are smirking like they witnessed a lap dance.”
“Perception is everything.” He finished the remainder of his scotch and placed a firm hand around her knees while he rested the glass on the table. He couldn’t take much more of this. Months of waiting for the right time and right place had taken its toll. Maybe it was time to start thinking realistically—with his head, instead of the heart that had already steered him wrong once before.
It wasn’t like Leah was swan-diving for the chance to risk her job to be with him. Sucking face with Felicity and praying a spark w
ould miraculously ignite might be exactly what he needed. He just didn’t need it here, in the open, with assholes taking notes. “Should we leave?”
“Yeah… But first.” She leaned in, her lips briefly kissing his cheek. “Even though tonight didn’t go to plan, thank you for being the lone gentleman in a sea of assholes. You’re a great guy.”
Everyone kept telling him that. He was a gentleman. He was kind. He was nice. Yet, for all his so-called awesomeness, he was in his 30s, single, and playing chicken with his reputation. It wasn’t a winning combination from his perspective.
“I’m sure things will work out for you in the end.” She slid her legs from his lap and pulled out her phone. “Do you know the cab company’s number?”
“Don’t even think about it.” He gave her an incredulous look. “You’re not catching a cab by yourself at this hour. You can crash in my bed and I’ll take the sofa.”
“Can’t bring yourself to kiss me, but still expect me in your bed? The man’s got game.” She chuckled and glanced down at her phone. Her face slowly morphed, from happiness to confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
Her gaze snapped to the empty entrance of the bar. “Umm.” Her focus flew back to her cell screen, her fingers rapidly typing. “I… um…” She glanced back at the door. “Hannah is here.”
“Hannah?” He frowned through the lack of recognition. “You’ll need to be more specific.”
“My bass guitarist.”
He remained clueless until a leggy brunette strode toward them from the entrance of the bar, her form-hugging dress worthy of a New York runway. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her lips dark red and dragging the attention of men and women alike.
“Great,” Felicity muttered. “She’s drunk.”
Ryan scrutinized the guitarist, only gaining a faint hint of intoxication from the barely visible wobble in her step. “Don’t worry. You’re supposed to stay wasted on your first tour.” Reckless had. He’d partied hard and drank even harder. At least until Julie found out and reined him in.
“She’s not drinking for fun. She’s drowning her sorrows in liquor again.” She stood and greeted her bandmate with an arm around the woman’s waist. “What are you doing here?”
