“Swiss, actually.” Quinn smiled, digging his toes into the warm sand. “The French chick was two nights ago. Old news. So what’s the good word on the single, Ollie?” The new Billboard rankings released every Tuesday but with the sixteen hour time difference between Bali and Los Angeles, Quinn knew there would be nothing definitive until late the next day.
Except for the fact that Oliver always seemed to have an inside track.
“Still climbing steady. No More Tomorrows should definitely be in the top fifty this week. Fingers crossed, of course.”
“When we hit the top ten, do we get an upgrade for our hotel rooms? Maybe we could all stay at that fucking palace where the director is camped out.” Not that Quinn was actually complaining. The rooms were a step up from their shared flat in London, and the hotel’s location was close to the beach and bars, with nightclubs both on the roof and in the basement. With the band’s party-boy reputation, the label would’ve been crazy to house them somewhere expensive. Ten months ago, Quinn would’ve called his friends normal twenty-somethings. Since signing the contract with the record studio, they’d amped up their partying to an eleven, to the point where their bar bills exceeded their share of the take at every show they played, and their landlord was ready to kick them out of the building for violating the neighborhood’s late-night noise restrictions.
And the women… it seemed crazy to Quinn that women who didn’t know him wanted to jump in his bed because he was in a band. Granted, that’s why they started the band in the first place back in college, but he’d never thought it would be this easy.
Speaking of which… he started walking up the beach again, not wanting to lose sight of the blonde.
“Quinn, we need to talk alone for a moment.” Oliver’s hand was on Quinn’s arm, pulling him to a stop. Quinn glanced at him and realized the guy’s famously stoic British façade looked decidedly… uncomfortable.
A shiver of unease ran down Quinn’s spine. “Oliver? What’s wrong?”
He pulled back his hand, shoving both into the pockets of his pressed khaki shorts. “I’m not sure how to say this gently, so I won’t try. Your mum called while the band was filming. Laura died last night.”
“What?” Quinn’s feet rooted in the sand. “But the last I heard she was better. She invited me stateside for Christmas.”
Oliver shrugged, his expression overflowing with sympathy, handing a cell phone to Quinn. “You should call your mum back. The funeral is Saturday.”
“But we… How would… Can I even…” Quinn wasn’t sure what to say, let alone how to ask. The band was scheduled to stay through the weekend, play a few open air concerts so the director could add live concert footage to the video. But…
He had to go home. His cousin’s wife had been like a big sister to him ever since high school, encouraging him to pursue his music. Four years older, she and his cousin Ed were the only ones in the family to support his decision to leave college a year early, when John and Grubber graduated. Laura was the one who’d smoothed things over with his parents.
Cancer, however, was an indiscriminate bitch.
As usual, Oliver was one step ahead. “There’s a flight leaving the island tonight that’ll get you to Jakarta. From there you’re booked to L.A., and then a connector straight to Boston. It’s more than twenty four hours of flying, but you’ll make it in time.”
Quinn nodded along. He trusted Oliver with the details. Except… “I’m not going through London? That’s the faster way.”
“Winter storms all across Europe. They’ve shut down Heathrow. The travel agent and I were at it for an hour and a half. You’re circling the globe, and will have to sit around LAX for a few hours, but at least you’ll get to Boston for the funeral.”
A wave of a different emotion swept through Quinn, making his throat tight. Knowing that Oliver hadn’t been able to wave his hand to fix this, but had taken the time to make sure Quinn would be okay… as both the youngest of three brothers and the youngest of eight cousins, it had been a long time since he’d felt like more than an afterthought.
Laura made him feel the same way too.
But now she was gone.
He swallowed hard, trying to push his emotions to the side and focus on logistics. “Ollie, I only brought beach clothes on this trip. I’ll need a suit. Jeans. A coat. It’s fucking freezing on Cape Cod in November.”
“I’ll give you a credit card. Charge whatever you need to the record company.”
Another wave of emotion ripped through him. Quinn pulled the older man into a tight embrace. “Thank you. Seriously, the guys and I are so lucky to have you looking out for us.”
“Just doing my job, Quinn.”
“It’s more than that and you know it. And we appreciate it.”
After saying hasty goodbyes to his friends, and a very disappointed blonde in a teeny silver bikini, Quinn left the beach and hightailed it to the local airport. On the flight out of Jakarta, he overheard two of the flight attendants talking about harsh weather moving into the region over the next few days. Between his leaving and the rain headed toward the island, it was a good thing they’d finished shooting most of the music video. The additional concert footage would have to wait.
By the time Quinn landed in Boston, there were reports of a massive hurricane wreaking havoc along the coast of northern Australia, moving toward Indonesia. The international reporters called it a “tropical cyclone” which was apparently what they called hurricanes in Australia. Who knew?
He texted Chuck and Grubber, saying he’d made it to Boston safe, and apologized again for leaving them. The replies came fairly quickly, considering the distance. More girls for us, Chuck texted back. Grubber’s reply was longer. The locals say they never have problems with hurricanes. Just an excuse to party harder. Don’t worry about us.
His thoughts so laser-focused on his own family tragedy, it hadn’t occurred to Quinn to worry about the rest of the band. Hurricanes hit Cape Cod all the time. No big deal apart from a little wind damage. A few shingles off the roof, maybe a tree knocked down. Making it an excuse for heavy drinking sounded like an awesome idea, and he felt a twinge of jealousy. Here he was back in the U.S. for a funeral, and they were partying their asses off.
Directly in the path of Hurricane Nina.
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Meet the authors
Natalie Ann is a USA Today bestselling author who writes steamy contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and light paranormal.
Angela Stevens writes steamy contemporary romance, contemporary urban fantasy, paranormal, Native American themes, and children’s books.
Suzanne Jenkins is a USA Today bestselling author who writes women’s fiction, steamy contemporary romance, mystery, and suspense.
Alicia Street is a USA Today bestselling author and Daphne du Maurier award-winner. She writes both sweet and steamy contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and paranormal.
Katie O’Sullivan is an award winning author who writes steamy contemporary romance and young adult paranormal.
Stephanie Morris is a USA Today bestselling author who writes steamy contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and paranormal.
Tamara Ferguson is a USA Today bestselling author and multi- award winning author including Reader’s Favorite Bronze, Silver, and Gold medals in Military Fiction who writes both sweet and steamy contemporary romance and romantic suspense.
Jen Talty is a USA Today bestselling author who writes steamy contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and paranormal.
Holiday Hunks
Natalie Ann- Jake's Christmas Decision
Angela Stevens- Miles' Christmas Roundup
Alicia Street -Finn's Christmas Dilemma
Katie O'Sullivan- Brendan's Christmas Surprise
Stephanie Morris- Dalton's Christmas Ultimatum
Suzanne Jenkins- Joey's Christmas Miracle
Tamara Ferugson- Nick's Christmas Wish
HOT HUNKS, STEAMY ROMAN
CE collection
Natalie Ann- Reed’s Resolution
Angela Stevens- Nolan’s Resolution
Suzanne Jenkins- Jason’s Resolution
Alicia Street- Kip’s Resolution
Katie O’Sullivan- Quinn’s Resolution
Stephanie Morris- Leland’s Resolution
Tamara Ferguson- Rand’s Resolution
Ed's Blind Date Dilemma Page 13
