Slow Burn (Feverish #4)

by Jade C. Jamison

  That felt way too damn easy—but he’d take what he could get just the same.

  * * *

  Sophie’s stomach had finally calmed down, but her head still ached. The flight later wasn’t going to help, but she hoped the acetaminophen she took a couple of minutes earlier would kick in before that. Last night had been stupid in so many ways, but the consuming of way too many alcoholic beverages had been the worst part. She hadn’t drunk like that since her sophomore year of college, and this morning was a good reminder of why.

  That and all the damned calories.

  Sitting in the too-bright hotel restaurant on the first floor, Sophie set the menu down on the table close to the waiter. Brian was ordering breakfast, all foods that made her stomach churn at the mere mention—eggs, sausage, hash browns. Just the thought of all that grease caused her throat to constrict. If all went well, though, she’d be gone before he started eating it all.

  “Anything else, miss?”

  “Just the coffee. Black, please.”

  “You sure—”

  She knew before the words came out of Brian’s mouth that he wanted to make sure she really didn’t want any food, but her glare shut his mouth. She gave a quick nod as the waiter said, “All right. I’ll get your order in and then I’ll be right back with coffee.”

  Sophie took a tiny sip of the water in front of her and said, “I want to suggest a proposition.”

  What the hell was that man thinking? His blue eyes had a sparkle in them and his lips looked like they were going to turn upward—but they didn’t. “Shoot.”

  “From the sounds of your earlier conversation, business is going well.”

  Now he smirked—and had she not felt all weird about last night, that expression might have made her knees buckle. But this whole thing had gotten out of hand, and she was going to stop it. First, though, she needed to work out an arrangement. He said, “Babe, I’m a rock star and I happen to be good at my job. Of course, business is going well.”

  Ugh.

  The waiter brought their coffee by and Sophie took a tiny sip of hers before continuing. “I’m sure. But I also know that this particular album hasn’t performed to your band’s expectations.” When she saw Brian get ready to protest, she said, “There’s no sense arguing about it. Mark already told me as much. Maybe it’s performing well in your head, but Mark said the studio hasn’t been happy with sales.”

  “The studio? That’s the first I’ve heard that shit.”

  “Maybe you need to pay more attention to the business side of things. But I didn’t join you for coffee to poke at you. That’s your thing, not mine.” Brian made a face, raising his eyebrows and squinting his eyes as if questioning every word out of her mouth. She loved that, for once with this man, the tables were turned. “I wanted to suggest an arrangement.”

  “Yeah, you said that.”

  “I don’t know how or why it’s happening, but this is twice now that the paparazzi has hunted us down and, for some reason, they love making things up about us. Whether I like it or not or even understand it, my value as a model has increased significantly, thanks to the exposure—and, from the sound of things, it hasn’t hurt your band, either.”

  “Yeah. I think I’m getting tired of saying there’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

  “But it’s true. You might not like to hear it, but has any of this hurt you?”

  For probably the first time ever, Sophie saw something behind Brian’s eyes. The man usually presented one of two fronts—the cocky, party-hardy rock star or the funny guy, the comedian who made all his bandmates laugh on a regular basis. She knew now, though, that whatever came out of his mouth was probably going to be the most real thing she’d ever heard from him. “I think maybe hurt is too strong a word, but it ain’t all what it’s cracked up to be. When we first started out, I’d get a side eye once in a while ‘cause I had a couple of tattoos and long hair. I was a kid, though, so I really didn’t care. But a few years ago, it started to change. When I got married, the coverage of that shit was through the roof.”

  Marriage? “What?”

  “Long story. Don’t worry. We’re divorced. I’m not cheating on anybody if that’s what you’re thinking.” While her heartrate slowed back down, she tried to make sure she didn’t look devastated, and Brian continued. “And the last couple of years, it’s been harder. A lot of people don’t listen to our music or know who we are, but enough do. I can’t go anywhere anymore without attracting attention. Back in Denver, if I go to McDonald’s, somebody’ll ask me for my autograph before I finish my Big Mac.”

  “You should thank them for trying to save your heart from all that saturated fat.”

  “You’re missing the point, Sophie. I don’t have any privacy anymore, and this shit is only going to make it worse. All the people who didn’t know much about me are going to learn who I am. I thought I’d dodged a bullet with Cookie, because we broke up before she became as famous as she is now. If we’d been together now, I would be toast.”

  “Really, Brian? Weren’t your snarky comments about her just a cheap attention grab?”

  “Hell, no. And, for the record, she actually started it. She’d posted some shit on her Facebook page about rock stars with tiny dicks—more than once—and, to the best of my knowledge, I’m the only rock star she’s ever dated. So the next interview I had, I told the truth about her. She’s a brainless bitch.”

  Even though Sophie wasn’t in a joking mood, she couldn’t help herself. “Did you correct them about your dick?”

  “I didn’t even dignify that remark.”

  Sophie looked down in her coffee and said quietly, “Well…you don’t have anything to be ashamed about.”

  The waiter stopped by their table to top off their coffee and said, “Your breakfast should be here shortly. Can I get either of you anything in the meantime?”

  Brian, his eyes wide, said, “Just a clamp.”

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  Grinning, Brian shook his head. “Nothing. I’m good. You, Sophie?”

  “Sure.”

  When the waiter left, Brian said, “I need a clamp to put my jaw back in place.” When Sophie’s eyes questioned him, he added, “I suppose I should thank you for the compliment. I guess that means you’re finally ready to talk about last night.”

  Sophie drew in a deep breath through her nostrils, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. Oh, those beautiful eyes of his looked like a lake, calm and beautiful and full of life, but she knew the two of them would never work. They were too different.

  A business agreement, on the other hand, could be mutually beneficial.

  “Not exactly. What happened happened, and I refuse to analyze it. I suppose it was bound to happen, especially after that whole falling-in-love video concept.”

  “I’m not about to argue any of that shit with you.”

  “It’s not going to happen again, so I’d rather not discuss it.” Before Brian could say anything else, Sophie powered through. “I’d rather focus on my proposal.”

  Brian gave half a shrug. “I’m listening.”

  “I know you said you’re tired of talking about bad publicity being a good thing—but what if we, you and I, were in control of it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are celebrities who actually contact the media clandestinely to let them know where they’ll be and what they’ll be doing—so the photo op looks impromptu but, really, it’s staged. The photographers know it; the celebrity knows it—but the tabloids sell it like it’s news. And when you feed the paparazzi regularly, they don’t hound you all the time.”

  Sophie couldn’t read Brian, not at all, but he appeared to be amused and potentially interested. Picking up his coffee cup, he said, “I’m pretty sure Mark was behind that first time they caught us in Manhattan.”

  “Meaning he was in control—and why?”

  “He’s worried about sales.”

  “Exactly. But wouldn’t you pre
fer to be calling the shots?”

  “How the hell would that even work? You already said none of this is going to happen again.”

  “That’s why you and I have to plan. A business arrangement. We have to figure out how to make this work.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  That was the only opening Sophie needed to hear before she launched into her proposal.

  Chapter Seventeen

  In the ride from Sea-Tac to the concert venue in Seattle, Brian tried like hell to breathe in the vibes. He’d always felt like two places on earth were his personal music meccas. One was the Sunset Strip in L.A., a place he’d tried to enjoy last night but had instead been getting blitzed with a woman he was becoming more and more entangled with. Normally, he loved peeking in at places like Whisky a Go Go and Rainbow Bar & Grill, trying to absorb through osmosis the genius of past musicians who’d graced all those stages, partied on those streets, lived it and breathed it.

  Seattle was the second place. It was like the Mesopotamia of grunge rock, the birthplace of alternate rock, a sort of backlash against 80s hair and glam metal, bringing the music back to its roots, and it felt like all metal today had those two movements to thank for what existed today. Of course, Brian knew it wasn’t as simple as that, but those were his two favorite places to play—L.A. and Seattle—aside from Denver, his home, the place where he and the band got their start.

  This afternoon, though, as he tried to channel the greats, he couldn’t focus. His brain was still completely absorbed by Sophie—not just last night but this morning as well.

  She’d quickly put the kibosh on a relationship—on even fucking talking about it. So his mind couldn’t even dwell on the only thing it really wanted to. He and Sophie had amazing chemistry and she fit him like a glove. He’d been able to help her completely let go, both out in public and behind closed doors—but she wanted nothing to do with him. Not in that regard at any rate.

  But the one way they could and would remain in each other’s lives was through a plan she’d devised. Suddenly, Brian was seeing this woman in an all-new light. He’d found her attractive, to be sure, whether she was a blonde or brunette, and he’d even loved how she was so fucking stiff most of the time that she had a hard time letting go. More than anything else, he loved helping her relax—but, of course, she’d doubled down this morning.

  And then she’d fucking blown him away. He’d still had a hard time buying that she was a college graduate until this morning. Not only had she made a hell of an argument, citing facts and presenting evidence much like a lawyer might, but her vocabulary blew him out of the water. How had he ever missed that before? Until this morning, he’d thought she was a woman of average intelligence (or below—and she could thank Cookie for that assessment), but now he loved her even more for her brain.

  Loved her? Well, maybe that was a little over the top. Appreciate might be a better word. And, although he thought her plan wasn’t going to work, not even a little bit, and he questioned if he should even participate, he wasn’t about to turn down another reason to spend time with her.

  While Brian entered the back of the venue, the driver took his luggage to the bus, because they were hitting the road tonight for another show tomorrow night somewhere else. Before he could even make it to his room, Clay, talking with one of the roadies, let the guy go so he could harass Brian. “Holy shit, man. What the hell is going on?”

  “What do you mean?” He knew exactly what his friend meant.

  “Are you and this Sophia chick getting serious?”

  “Not even close.”

  Clay lowered his eyelids. “You’re talking to me, man. Your best friend.”

  While Clay was right, Brian was still debating if this plan with his co-conspirator was something he should share with his brother from another mother or if he needed to keep it close to his vest.

  For now, he’d keep it quiet. “I’m telling you there’s nothing there.”

  Clay had little choice but to believe him.

  * * *

  Sophie felt like she was going to throw up—but there was nothing in her belly to get rid of. It was stupid, but she was more nervous now than she could remember being in years past. The plane ride to Denver hadn’t been so bad, but now that she had landed and was walking through the airport, she felt queasy.

  Brian was going to be home for about a week, a little scheduled downtime from their tour, and Sophie had asked if that would be a good time to meet. It was silly, but she didn’t want to text or email about their plan or even talk on the phone, because all of that shit could be recorded and bite her in the ass later. If she and Brian met for lunch and talked about it out in the open, she’d have plausible deniability.

  And, boy, did she have an awesome plan.

  When she got outside, she looked all around, trying to spot him. How dumb that she’d forgotten to ask him what kind of vehicle he’d be picking her up in. As she continued scanning the area, the realization washed over her that he very well could be standing her up. How many times had he called her crazy? Maybe he really felt that way.

  Just in case she was wrong, though, she glanced at her phone to see if maybe he was running late. If he was blowing her off, the joke was on him. He’d paid for a round trip for her, saying he wanted to be home for a few days—and since he was demanding the place they would meet, he wanted to pick up at least part of the tab. If he wasn’t picking her up, the only thing she’d be out was paying for her own lunch (at an overpriced airport restaurant, of course) and time spent until her flight left that evening.

  There was no text from Brian and she wanted to call him but decided to wait just a bit.

  That was when she heard the loud ass motorcycle—and it pulled up close to her. Fortunately for her, he was wearing the kind of helmet that made it easy to see his face and that was when she realized she was a girl through and through. There was something about him on that dumb motorcycle that made her heart race. And then a second thought flooded her brain.

  Holy shit. That meant that she’d have to ride on the back.

  In a frigging miniskirt. Son of a bitch.

  Sophie couldn’t contain her emotions, so she knew they were showing on her face. There were so many bubbling up, she didn’t even know exactly what she was feeling. Was she upset, excited, horrified? Yes. And those were only the ones she could put a name to.

  “We can put your purse in here,” Brian said, opening up a storage unit at the back and pulling out another helmet, handing it to Sophie. “Safety first.”

  “Brian, I’m wearing a skirt. How am I even supposed to do that?”

  “Sorry. I was gonna bring my car, but it was such a beautiful day—and I hardly ever get this baby out on the road, especially during this tour. This is one of few opportunities I have to ride, since the band’s gonna be on the road the rest of the year.” Brian gave her half a frown, but she had no way of knowing if it was sincere. “So if you want to take a cab or if you want me to go back to my house and get the car, I can do that.”

  “No, I don’t want you going to that kind of trouble. It’s just going to be a little awkward getting on there without flashing the entire world.”

  Brian grinned, his white teeth gleaming. “You say that like it’s a problem.”

  She glared because, really, she had nothing else.

  “I need to get on first, and then you’ll get on behind me. But helmet first.” Brian started to hand it to her and said, “You’re not worried about your hair, are you?”

  “I hadn’t even thought of that. I’m more concerned about the peep show.” He seemed to be stifling a laugh when he held the helmet out. She said, “I’ve never ridden on the back of a motorcycle before.”

  “Are you implying you’ve ridden elsewhere on a bike?”

  She rolled her eyes, unconcerned if Brian knew she was already tired of their typical banter. She just wanted to get this part of the trip over with. “How do you put that on?”

  “Let me help
you.”

  While he was placing the helmet on top of her head and adjusting the strap around her chin, she noticed her breath feeling a little lighter with his face that close to hers. For a brief moment, she considered if they would work as a couple and then snapped herself out of it just as Brian was snapping the strap around her chin. “I suppose I should have made sure my affairs were in order before this. I have no way of knowing what kind of driver you are.”

  “Cute. I know plenty of guys ride without a helmet—but I also know a guy who suffered brain damage because he refused to protect his head. You’re all set,” he said, removing his hands and stepping back. “But I get it. If you want to call a cab, we can do that.”

  “No. Let’s just get this over with.”

  Those white teeth captured her imagination as he tapped his boot on a piece of metal sticking out of the bike. “Once I’m on, you’re going to put one foot here and then swing your other leg over, and you’re going to want to wrap your arms around me or you can hold onto the seat—but it’s safer if you hold onto me. We’re gonna be going pretty fast.”

  Sophie could practically feel the blood draining from her face, but she swallowed, digging deep. She might not have liked Brian, but she sensed that she could trust him—not just to keep her secrets or conspire with her, but even with her life.

  Somehow, she found that comforting.

  “Got it.”

  “Atta girl. Any questions?”

  “Nope. Let’s just hurry up.”

  She could see the glimmer in his eyes fade just a little, thanks to her lack of enthusiasm, but she supposed that was all his fault. He could have warned her about his motorcycle instead of surprising her, so if she was hesitant, that was on him.

  As she placed one heel on the metal plate, she thanked herself for wearing strappy heels. They were a little more effort when getting dressed, but they looked damn good—and now she had another reason to prefer them. They wouldn’t slip off, no matter how fast he drove.