by Tara Leigh
Dax was certainly a challenge.
He made me wonder what it would be like to be with someone I wanted to be with. Not to get a role. Not as part of an audition. Not because I was drunk or high or as some kind of rebound gone wrong.
And maybe that would be okay…if the man I wanted was anyone else.
But, of course, I wanted Dax Hughes.
A man who didn’t want me back.
A man who could kill my so-called comeback with a single word to Travis. Insist Travis drop me as a client. Cut me from the tour. Or even just whisper into the wrong ear that I was “skittish.”
Whatever sparks I felt around him had to be doused, the air cleared.
Today.
I decided against calling. This level of groveling required a face-to-face meeting.
* * *
In L.A., it was depressingly easy to get a celebrity’s address.
With my stomach in knots, I gathered my courage and made the drive from Beverly Hills to Pacific Palisades, with a doughnut detour in between. It was yet another perfect California day. The sun was out, the day was warm, and there was barely a cloud in the sky. All around me people were walking or biking or driving their convertibles, but I kept my windows sealed shut, the air-conditioning at full force to cool my heated skin. My heart was beating a little too fast, and showing up sporting a ring of armpit sweat wasn’t the look I was going for.
I gave my name and ID to the guard, who didn’t bat an eyelash. He could probably put his daily sign-in sheets on eBay and net a small fortune. I bit my lip as he went back into the little house and picked up a phone. I watched his mouth move, then his small nod that could have meant send her away just as easily as send her through. The man’s face was expressionless behind mirrored aviators as he returned my license. But then the bar rose and he stepped back, waving me through.
Was I making a mistake? What if I only made things worse? It was pretty presumptuous of me to just show up at Dax’s home like this, uninvited.
What had made me think this was a good idea? It wasn’t. It was a terrible idea.
I was working up to a pretty impressive panic attack when I pulled into Dax’s driveway. He was leaning against his front door, wearing a low-slung pair of joggers and nothing else. His thumbs were hooked into the waistband, showing off impressive biceps and a long torso striated by muscles.
My mouth went dry, and I forgot to get out of the car.
I snapped out of my trance when Dax came down the steps, frowning into my window. Shutting off the ignition, I grabbed the white bag already showing grease stains on its thin paper and slid out of my seat. “I brought doughnuts,” I said, holding it aloft like a white flag.
He didn’t even glance at it. “You drove all the way here to bring me breakfast?”
I lowered my arm, the paper crinkling within my grip. “I was in the neighborhood.”
Smooth, Verity. Real smooth.
Dax crossed his arms, his pectoral muscles rippling. “Why are you here, Verity?”
Wilting beneath his exasperated expression, I didn’t even know anymore. “Do you want me to leave?” If I got back into my car and drove off, he wouldn’t stop me.
When he didn’t say anything, I started over. “I never actually thanked you for stepping up that night, in New York. I still think I could have handled it myself, of course. But I appreciate you looking out for me.”
His lips twitched, fighting a smile. “No need to thank me. Like you said, you would have managed fine on your own.”
“Of course.” I took a step forward, pressing the bag into his hand. Our fingers brushed, and shock from the contact raced up my arms, the simple touch igniting a dozen different electrical explosions inside my body. Jesus, what did this man do to me?
It must have done something to Dax, too, because a muffled curse escaped his lips as he spun away from me and jogged up the steps to his front door.
It should have bothered me that he was walking away…but it was hard to feel anything other than grateful at the sight of his ass tensing and flexing with each step.
I stood, immobile except for my pounding pulse, waiting for Dax to hide behind a closed door, just as I’d done at the Soho Grand. But instead he paused in the open doorway and glanced back at me. “Want some coffee with your doughnut?” The question emerged strangled, as if his throat didn’t want to set the words free.
“Sure,” I said quickly, then hurried up the steps before either of us could change our minds.
Set high above the beach, Dax’s house was an interesting mix of dark and light. The floors had been stained a deep, rich ebony. The interior walls were painted white, the molding and windowpanes a flat, matte black. A man cave fit for a sexy, brooding rock star. “Wow. Your place is—”
“Follow me.” Dax was already at the other end of the entryway, heading down a wide, circular staircase.
Noticing he was barefoot, I kicked off my shoes by the front door and followed, my head whipping left and right. Many of the walls were adorned with guitars, a framed photograph hanging beside each one. I recognized Slash and Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix and Keith Richards. Many more that I didn’t. Dax was a collector, I realized. A serious one.
Downstairs was clearly the main living area of Dax’s home, with an open kitchen on one side, a chestnut leather sectional facing an enormous flat-screen television on the other, and a rough-hewn farm table in the middle.
Dax opened the door to a deck that spanned the length of the house, and I gasped as I took in the view. The house had been built into a cliff, the Pacific Ocean spread as far as I could see.
I’d been in plenty of beautiful homes with gorgeous views, but this one was nothing short of spectacular. And a study in contrasts. Just like its owner.
Dax pulled out a chair for me, dropping the bag onto a table made of mosaic tiles, each stone gleaming in the sunlight. “How do you take your coffee?”
“Actually, I’m fine for now.” I didn’t want him to go back inside, and my racing heart might jump out of my chest if I had any caffeine.
I pulled an apple fritter from the bag and broke it in half. “Try this.”
Dax accepted it carefully, without even the barest brush of our fingertips this time, and dropped into a chair. He ate his piece in two bites, then licked the sugary pads of his fingers, saving his thumb for last. A kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight inside my stomach, twisting and twirling. I swallowed heavily, second-guessing my decision to forgo a drink.
“Good, right? Blue Star Donuts. They’re down in Manhattan Beach, but totally worth the trip. I got a couple of maple bacons, cinnamon sugars, and another apple fr—”
He interrupted my babbling. “You wanna tell me why you’re really here?”
“Besides my belated thank-you and surprise doughnut delivery?”
He smirked, reaching into the bag and pulling out a maple bacon. I knew he’d like those. “Yeah, besides that.”
I took a bite of the fritter to stall while I got my thoughts under control. “I wanted to make sure you were okay with me joining you on the road.”
His eyes narrowed at me, a sudden wariness flashing as brightly as the mosaic tiles. “What are you talking about?”
Those butterflies ducked for cover. “I thought…Didn’t Travis say anything to you?”
“About you opening for us? Yeah, he did.” Dax’s voice was low and deep, barely audible over the crash of the waves, fury and frustration etched into the shallow lines at the corners of his eyes and the deeper ones crossing his forehead. “But I thought it was a joke.”
Joke. The word ricocheted like a bullet inside my brain, leaving a wake of pain and destruction behind. I should have expected it, prepared myself for Dax’s disdain.
But I didn’t, and I wasn’t. At all.
Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry, I pushed my chair back from the table and lurched to my feet, practically running inside.
I’d been such a fool. My instincts
in New York had been right. Although his actions weren’t physical, Dax was just like all the others. Just like the other men who had hurt me.
I made it as far as the stairs before Dax caught up with me, one hand closing over my wrist and the other curving around my waist. I stilled immediately, an instinctive fear rising up at being overpowered. The intensity exuding from the hard plane of his body, from the rough scrape of his stubble along my neck, from the warm gust of his breath through my hair, hit me like a rogue wave. Sudden. Unexpected. Overwhelming.
But…not in a bad way.
I closed my eyes, letting myself get caught up in the pure wildness of the emotions flooding my body with each beat of my heart. Knowing Dax was the reason for it.
A man who wore ripped jeans and leather bracelets and filled his home with valuable guitars that had belonged to the most famous musicians in the world. A former classical musician who was now one of the baddest boys on the rock scene.
Dax Hughes was a rebel, through and through.
I felt him take a quick inhale, the rise of his chest brushing against my back, as if he were breathing me in. The thought sent a shiver racing down my spine.
“You have no fucking idea, do you?” His words were shards of gravel, rough and sharp.
“What—what are you talking about?” Mine were a fine sand, almost weightless, easily carried away on the wind.
He gave a low grunt. “You’re making me fucking crazy, Verity. Need to stay away from you. And I’m trying…But when you show up here, smelling as good as you do, looking as good as you do”—releasing my wrist, Dax dragged the calloused pads of his fingertips along my arm, goose bumps rising to the surface in response—“you make it damned impossible.”
Confusion expanded within the marrow of my bones, making me ache. How could I be so attracted to a man who clearly didn’t have any respect for me as a fellow musician? Had I learned nothing from the past few years? “Well, then, I’ll make it easy for you,” I said, gathering my resolve. I would not, could not, fall for a guy who used my body without regard for my heart and soul. I deserved more than that. “I didn’t come here today for a booty call, Dax. And I’m not some Barbie doll, designed for your entertainment.”
Breaking out of Dax’s hold, I climbed the stairs, heading for the front door.
Dax didn’t reach for me again, though he did follow. I grabbed my shoes, not bothering to put them on. He called my name before I opened the door.
I heard just enough remorse in Dax’s tone to make me turn around. And in his eyes, in the pull of his lips, the tense set of his jaw as he gripped the banister, I saw shame. “I didn’t think that. And I’m sorry for making you feel that way.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be the first.” I sighed, trying to look away from Dax and failing miserably. “This was a bad idea. Forget I came. If you don’t think I’m good enough to open for you, hash it out with Travis and your label.”
A look of disbelief transformed his features. “That’s what you think? That I don’t respect your talent?”
“You don’t have to lie or pretend. I’m a big girl. I can take it.” Now I was lying. My fingers closed over the knob, desperate to get away from him before blinking away my tears wasn’t enough.
His long strides ate up the distance between us, pushing the door closed before any light even came through the crack. “Verity.” He paused to swear softly. “That’s not what I think at all. Different, yes. But no one who’s heard your voice can doubt your talent.”
My jaw sagged as I absorbed what he’d just said. “Then why don’t you want me on your tour?”
“Because I don’t get involved with women in the industry.” He gave a reluctant smile. “And the more I see you, the more of you I want to see.”
This man had the most aggravating ability to wind me up and then unravel me. To push me away and draw me so close that the sound of his heartbeat was louder and more reassuring than my own.
My tongue was incapable of forming words to give voice to my bewildered thoughts.
“You never answered my question, Verity.” Dax’s smile dropped. “Why did you come here? Because I have nothing to give a girl like you. Not anymore.”
I tried to absorb what Dax was saying, but my mind was too muddled to decipher it. The more I see you, the more of you I want to see.
Dax moved closer, the air between us practically sizzling. His touch would burn me.
And I didn’t care.
I wanted Dax’s touch emblazoned on my skin, the taste of him seared into my lips.
If I was going to go up in flames, Dax could light the damn match.
“Back in New York,” I sputtered, trying desperately to put some kind of order, some kind of sense, to the thoughts and impulses invading my brain. “I regret how I acted, in the hotel. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way. I just—I just wanted to come here to say thanks. Say sorry. See if we could get past…”
Dax moved closer, reaching out to twist a lock of my hair. It was a movement I made all day long and thought nothing of. But when Dax’s long, elegant finger was wrapped from knuckle to tip in red—my red—I could only stare, mesmerized. It was the sexiest, most intimate thing anyone had ever done to me.
And when Dax’s knee nudged between my legs, his other hand gripping me by my waist, I was putty in his hands.
Yes, I was a cliché.
I’m not proud.
Whatever storm had whipped up between us, I was powerless to resist it.
Worse, I wanted to be caught up in the inevitability of…whatever it was. Feel the wind and rain on my face, let nature take over. Revel in the proof that something was at play here. Something much bigger than me.
A groan vibrated along my nerve endings, making them shake and shiver. The ribbon of red unspooled, and suddenly Dax’s hand was along my face, his thumb lifting my chin.
God, we were so close. All that energy roiling in his eyes, directed straight at me. Hazel. Such a small word, just five letters. One for each element. The rich ochre and lush green of earth. The deep blue of the sea. The inky darkness of a night sky. Gold flecks of fire shining through. All whipped into a frenzy.
This man was waging a battle I didn’t understand…and I was his enemy.
But if this was war, I wasn’t reaching for the white flag of surrender.
Damn it, I wanted to fight, too.
Because what I was feeling—
Butterflies swirling in my stomach.
Breath catching in the back of my throat.
Exhilaration and excitement and an almost embarrassing level of attraction.
—felt so damn good.
Could I explain it? No. Not in words, anyway. But my body wanted to be near his body. The physical pull as invisible and irresistible as gravity.
Maybe these flames between us couldn’t be extinguished. Maybe the only option was to fight hard. Fight passionately. Burn off this crazy energy between us.
Until he was mine and I was his.
Until victory was ours.
Or not.
“You like what you see, Verity?” Dax broke eye contact to look me over from head to toe. Slowly. Leisurely. Not missing an inch. And when he finally met my face again, his grin was bitter. “’Cause I sure the fuck do.”
How could I respond to that?
He wanted me.
But he didn’t want to want me.
“What are you going to do about it?” This time, my breathless tone was more than a little reckless, and I lifted both my hands up, placing them flat on Dax’s naked chest. His heat scorched my palms, our energy exchange impossible to ignore or deny.
Maybe we were both crazy.
Dax clenched his jaw, discomfort written in hard lines and deep furrows all over his face. “I don’t get involved with anyone in our fucked-up industry. Been there, done that. This career is all I have—I can’t fuck it up.”
My palms slid over his tense muscles until my thumbs rested in the hollow at the center of
his collarbone. His pulse thumping against my skin. “You think I can afford to blow this chance? Dax, I have everything to lose here. And I don’t have a backup plan.”
What was I doing? Why was I touching Dax? Standing so close and wishing he would touch me back?
Nothing good could come of this.
Nothing good ever had.
Dax’s Adam’s apple bobbed once, twice. And then he captured my forearms and pushed me away.
He was walking away from the game.
Except that he didn’t quite let go.
I seized on the sign of weakness, bending my elbows and stepping back to him. “What are you really afraid of, Dax?”
“I think you should go.” His words were gruff, forced. Completely opposite of the plea that flickered in his eyes.
“Tell me,” I whispered, aching with need.
The tension between us rose, then snapped in two as his lips landed on mine. The softest nibble, barely a breath.
And yet it was everything.
“I can’t,” he breathed, the words not hitting my brain until he’d already pulled away from me.
I sagged against the wall, staring dumbly at the mouth that had been on mine just a second ago. I should be thanking him—for being so much stronger than I was. But all I could think was, Why not? Which was exactly what came out of my mouth.
“This business brings out the worst in people, Verity. And from a business standpoint, a Nothing but Trouble/Verity Moore tour would be the hottest ticket around.” Dax took a step back, then another. “You asked whether joining our tour would be a problem for us. It won’t. Because there won’t be an us.”
Dax
It had been a few days since Verity showed up at my door, and somehow I’d managed to avoid hunting her down, fighting her pull the way I imagined an addict would—with white knuckles, a shit ton of denial, and keeping so busy I could barely see straight.
According to Travis, she was working on her album and plans for the Nothing but Trouble/Verity Moore tour were full steam ahead. I had a few more months before we’d be on the road together. Surely she would be out of my system by then.
