by Cherrie Lynn
There wasn’t much to miss. She lived at Heidi’s more than she lived here, but this was a haven, somewhere she could sing horribly off-key in the shower if she wanted, dance like no one was looking when the mood struck, and walk around without pants most of the time.
“None of that on the bus,” she muttered to herself, zipping her suitcase at last. All there would be on the bus was two bored tween boys and a pissed off dad who didn’t want her there. She supposed she would have to sleep crammed into one of those little bunks. Thank goodness she wasn’t claustrophobic. Much.
How had this happened again?
Both Heidi and Sara had suggested she take this opportunity to have some fun, but what kind of fun was there to be had out there? Sex, of course, but her limited experience with her ex-fiancé hadn’t proven there to be any fun in that. Jacob hadn’t been the most considerate of lovers, and the act itself simply hadn’t done anything for her, except hurt. She didn’t see what the fuss was all about.
As for other methods of fun she might be exposed to: the only time she indulged in drinks was on rare nights out with Sara. Drugs terrified her. She would be that person who died of some freak reaction on the very first hit.
No, she was going to watch the kids, try to keep them on some kind of routine, try to let them have a good time without being too much of a nuisance on their dad. Elijah Vance might not think so, but she knew her place. And if that man could quit consuming most of her waking thoughts, she would appreciate it. Instead of trying to cast him out, though, she curled up on her couch and opened her laptop, navigating to YouTube. There were dozens, no, hundreds of videos of him performing live over the years. His voice was raw and powerful; it could soar or it could croon, but it wasn’t one that would sing you to gentle sleep at night. It was one that might give you nightmares of running blindly through a demonic fun house.
There were also countless interviews. Music videos. Scores of rabid fans worshiping him or lusting after him. They would be a joy to encounter too, she was certain. Another thing to shield his children from.
This is your mission, she told herself, watching an interview where his entire demeanor changed when the radio DJ asked him about family life. Those dimples appeared, his eyes crinkled, his entire face lightened. Iris found herself smiling too, just from watching him. He mentioned Heidi as well—a quick check of the date showed this was filmed while he was still married, and sure enough, a flashy ring was on his left ring finger. What a gut punch it must be to him to have to share his time with the kids; now he had to come face-to-face with his ex-wife’s movie star boyfriend whenever he came to pick them up. It sucked all the way around.
Iris closed her laptop, staring straight ahead. If she had anything to do with it, the Vance boys were going to have the best summer ever. She only hoped Eli let her have anything to do with it.
THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT wanted to fuck him.
It was starting already, the same old song and dance, the coy looks, fluttering eyelashes, laughing at everything he said even if it wasn’t funny. She was blonde and statuesque, just the way he liked them. He sipped his seltzer water and tried to ignore her, checking his watch and willing this plane to hurry and land already. Eli made a point never to be rude to fans if he could help it, but fans was the operative word. His only obligation was to put out music every now and then and let them see him perform it live. Unless he was actually at a venue or in the studio, he considered himself on his own time.
It never failed, however. If someone rudely barged in on his time and he declined whatever request they made, he was lambasted as an egocentric asshole later on social media. We made him what he is, they’d say. He guessed that meant he should dance on their strings whenever the fuck they wanted. When they stalked him and picked apart what they could see of his life and drove him up the goddamn wall, he began to question whether or not it was worth it.
Mostly, it was.
Unplugging was easy. All he had to do was delete apps and avoid the world online, but damn, the isolating nature of going to those extremes was tough. What he couldn’t do was delete the people he came into contact with face-to-face, no matter how much he wanted to.
So, he set his limits. Women would always approach him; it was a given. Some of them were a delight to talk to. Some of them only wanted to see his cock. Unfortunately, until he knew what he was dealing with, female fans were all Schrödinger’s cat to him. Open her up and she might know the name of his first band out of high school, the name of Ruin’s first demo, or simply want to tell him how his lyrics had helped her with a difficult situation. Or . . . she might just want to see his cock.
In his younger days he’d been more than willing to taste the emptiness the latter sort had to offer. A night of pleasure for pleasure’s sake, he and his bandmates trying to out-fuck or out-freak each other, but he’d left that behind long ago. He’d outgrown it. He’d begun to want something real, and he’d honestly thought Heidi was the one to give it to him.
The women who approached him these days might be surprised if they discovered that inside he was only screaming Please stay the fuck away from me. He didn’t trust them.
The nanny should already be at the hotel with his kids. He wanted to be ready to see them, so aside from any sexual hang-ups he’d developed over the last several years, the flight attendant was shit out of luck. Ruin’s first show wasn’t until tomorrow night. He wasn’t sure what he and the boys would find to do, but even if they bummed around the hotel room and played video games or hung out by the pool, he was looking forward to uninterrupted time with them.
Heidi had texted him Iris’s cell phone number when she’d put the boys on the plane to Portland with her. His ex had also sent him a damn novel’s worth of pleas to look out for them, as if he wouldn’t.
He had his own bus, and no one would come on or go off without his express permission. The only people he intended to give it to besides his kids were the driver, his assistant and, he supposed, Iris.
The flight attendant looked crestfallen as he brushed past her to deplane after landing. Sorry, sweetheart, he thought. Ten years ago . . .
Ten years ago at the frenzied height of his revelry, he would’ve had her ass six ways to Sunday in the airplane bathroom. He’d inducted so many women into the Mile-High Club that trying to remember them all was futile. It wasn’t something to brag about, merely a simple truth: he loved fucking at forty-thousand feet.
Ten years ago, though, his flight attendant might’ve still been in high school, so yeah. Wasn’t meant to be any way you sliced it.
Walking through the gate with his head down, he thumbed through the contacts on his phone until he reached Iris’s name and opened a message. Just landed. Found anything to do around there?
She was a long time replying; he’d located his driver and slid into the back of the shiny black SUV before her response popped up. He wondered if his question had prompted her to go out and explore a bit. There’s a nice pool.
That actually sounded fucking awesome. No matter how long or short, flights always wore him out, even after all these long years jetting around the world. It was the boredom. Hence the mile-high misadventures. Get them ready and I’ll swing by in an hour. Give me the room number.
Later, she answered his knock wearing a pink terrycloth bathing suit cover-up, a big floppy straw hat, and oversized sunglasses. The scent of sunscreen wafted from the room, and he cocked an eyebrow at her. “I’m fully capable of taking my kids to the pool by myself,” he said crossly, and her pink lips fell slightly apart as her tentative smile faded.
“Oh, um . . . all right.” She looked back over the shoulder. “Hey, guys. Out the door, dinosaur.”
Great, now he felt like a dick. She’d spent a majority of her day wrangling the boys on a plane, something he hadn’t had to worry about. Nothing wrong with her enjoying some pool time too. “But whatever,” he added, looking behind her to where Seger and Dylan were scuttling about, getting towels and goggles together.
“I could go to the spa, or—”
“You’re already dressed, so you might as well come with us.”
“Come on, Iris!” Dylan yelled jubilantly, barreling past her out of the room, his goggles already on his face and a snorkel gripped in his hand. Seger was right behind him, adding his own enthusiastic invitation. Well, they wanted her there, at least. Heidi had been right about that: they did seem to like this woman.
The boys bombed down the hallway to the elevator ahead while Iris fell in awkwardly beside Eli, her flip-flops flip-flopping with each step she took. Her feet were cute with sky blue toenails and a dainty silver anklet hugging one slim ankle. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder even with her ridiculously big hat on. She was quiet, lacing her fingers together as the four of them stood waiting for the elevator, after Seger and Dylan argued for a good thirty seconds over who would push the button. Did it matter that much? He hadn’t grown up with siblings, so he was often in exasperation over the petty shit kids fought over.
He tried his damnedest not to brood. In fact, he didn’t know exactly why Iris’s presence grated on him so; he could always ignore her—he was somewhat of an expert at that. Screaming fans? Walk on by. Heidi bitching at him? Whatever. Horny flight attendants? No time. Iris in pink smelling of coconut and bananas and smiling adoringly at his sons as they filed into the elevator? Damn the woman. His teeth were on edge. He worked his jaw back and forth to loosen the muscles.
She kept her distance, at least, once they reached the pool area. Except for a few kids who would no doubt be best friends with his boys by the time they left, the pool itself was mostly empty. A few parents lounged nearby, either under umbrellas or in the chairs lined up poolside. Iris perched on one of these, keeping her robe on, though it was short enough to show him she had a nice set of legs, long for her height, slender, smooth looking. Her skin had a dewy glow that was hard to ignore. Hell, he knew Heidi Vance had spent a fortune striving for that effect.
Not that he should be looking at Iris’s fucking legs. Nor should he be indulging the image that flashed through his mind: those long, slender, smooth legs hugging his hips.
Control yourself, dumbass. His nerve endings had come alive, zinging with energy that coalesced in his cock, and the last thing he needed was to have to dive into the water to hide a hard-on. What the fuck was he, twelve?
Seger cannonballed into the water, jerking him away from his slack-jawed idiocy. Dylan followed closely behind with a battle cry, and Eli directed his attention to his sons, absently hoping the sunglasses he wore and the ball cap he’d tucked his hair into would disguise him from any potential fans who might have figured out where he was staying. You could never be too careful, but this crowd didn’t look like his demographic.
He eased himself down so that his legs dangled in the water, noticing when, across the pool, Iris pulled a paperback from her bag and settled back on her lounge chair. She was too far away for him to make out what she was reading, but he could appreciate that she favored the tactile pleasure of a book in her hands instead of a phone or tablet. He was the same, on the rare occasion that he had time to read.
Why did she keep her damn cover-up on? Any show of modesty in a woman that attractive had to be some kind of ploy. More importantly, why did he care?
“Dad, come in,” Dylan called.
“In a minute,” he said, keeping his face toward his boys but his eyes on the nanny.
She turned a page, drew one knee up a little higher, the sun kissing her flawless skin. Heidi must’ve been out of her damn mind to send this one. What the hell are you playing at, lady?
Because unlike many of the women he encountered, this one didn’t seem to want to fuck him.
He never trusted that, either.
Five
Iris tried to keep her gaze glued to her book as Elijah Vance stood up, reached an arm back over his head, and dragged his Black Sabbath T-shirt off. She pretended to focus on the printed page as his biceps flexed and the veins popped in his forearms as he wadded the shirt and tossed it into a nearby chair. Tattoos flowed down both his arms and across a liberal portion of his chest, carving stories in his skin, and she noticed for the first time that under his long swim trunks, his legs were covered one hundred percent in ink.
He wasn’t built like a guy who spent hours in the gym every day, but the lean sinewy muscle cording his long limbs was well-defined and, yeah, damn pleasing to look at. Iris reached for her bottle of water even though she was salivating, noticing that one of the soccer-mom types nearby was checking him out, too.
As she set her water aside, she randomly thought of what her own mother would’ve said about him and fought a smirk, the print on the pages blurring in her vision. For one, he created the devil’s music, and for another, he’d desecrated the holy temple of his body. She would’ve looked down her pious nose at him, forgetting that whole “judge not” thing, as she so often had. Iris supposed her mom would also have a thing or two to say about a woman who let her gaze crawl over his body and marveled at it as a thing of beauty.
Because it was.
Eli tossed his cap and shades aside, letting his long hair free, and took a running cannonball into the water near his boys, creating a huge splash that got them both good. He came up laughing, hair plastered across his face as Dylan and Seger attacked him, shouting with glee as they tried to drag him back under.
Iris didn’t realize she was grinning at them like a fool until Eli’s gaze locked with hers for the briefest moment, and she jerked her attention away and tried to pin it resolutely back on her novel.
Sara would absolutely hate her guts right now, Iris thought irrationally, wishing more than anything in the world she had the freedom to tell her friend that she was sitting not thirty feet away from Elijah Vance while he played with his kids in a hotel swimming pool. Sara would never even believe it. Iris would have to produce photographic evidence.
Come to think of it, Heidi had requested all the pictures of the boys that Iris was able to take, though she doubted Elijah would care for himself being included in pictures she intended to send to his ex-wife, so left her phone in her bag and let them play undisturbed. Only about five minutes had passed when her phone came to life in her bag with Heidi’s ring—a loud, blaring alarm so Iris was certain to hear it. Her boss must be reading her mind. Iris sat up and fished the phone out.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Heidi trilled in a singsong greeting. “How’s it going?”
“Great! We’re at the hotel now, just relaxing at the pool.”
“Is Elijah there?” While Heidi didn’t exactly spit out the name, her voice certainly darkened some on those particular syllables.
“Yes,” Iris said vaguely.
“Hmm. And my babies are okay?”
“Of course. They’re having a blast.”
In the water, Elijah had apparently picked up the gist of the conversation and was eyeing her suspiciously.
“Do they miss me?”
“You know they do.”
“Well, I won’t bother them right now if they’re in the pool. I do want them to call me later, though, okay? Don’t let them go to sleep without talking to me.”
“Sure thing. Where are you?” She was certain Heidi wasn’t hanging around at her house with her kids gone for the next several weeks.
Heidi emitted such a naughty giggle that Iris had to wonder if the woman was actually naked in bed at the moment. “Kauai.”
“Oh. Well. Lucky you.” She watched Eli lift Dylan in the air and throw him halfway across the pool while the boy cackled hysterically until the water swallowed him up.
“Aw, was that my Dylan dude? He does sound like he’s having fun.”
“He is,” Iris assured her, reaching forward to pick absently at one toenail.
“Okay, then. I’ll let you go. Take care of my boys.”
“I will. I was just thinking I need to snap some pictures. I’ll get on that. Enjoy Kauai.”
“Mmm, you know I will. Byeee!”
Realizing that she’d tipped Eli off as to where Heidi was right now, she darted a glance at him as she disconnected to see his jaw tensed. He didn’t say anything, though, not in front of his sons. She had to respect that. So many parents didn’t mind tearing the other down within hearing distance of their children. It was a raging pet peeve of hers.
No doubt Heidi was with Nic in a tropical paradise, palm trees swaying, breezes blowing and drinks flowing. This was nice, but it wasn’t Hawaii, and Eli would be hard at work tomorrow night, busting ass for the next two months. He didn’t have a conventional job, but she didn’t doubt for a moment that he worked hard.
Was that the reason his face looked carved from granite right now? Or did he wish he were the one there with his ex-wife? What was going on in the man’s head?
It wasn’t Iris’s business, of course, whether Elijah carried a still-burning torch for Heidi, but she would rather not find herself in the middle of it, especially if he needed a scapegoat for any ire he wished to work off.
Who was she kidding, though? She already was in the middle of it in a way. Because those boys definitely were, and as their champion, she might have to fight some battles she didn’t choose. A sobering thought as she went back to her book.
It was going to be a long summer, she thought, then a shadow fell over her.
Iris hadn’t noticed Elijah pull himself from the pool. “She’s in fucking Kauai?” he asked in a tone as angry as it was hushed. She glanced at the kids and then at him, trying to ignore the clinging water drops trailing down his body, the way they followed the curves and dips of his muscles . . .
Sighing, she shaded her face with one hand as she looked up at his face, cast in shadow by the sun above his head. “So she said.”
