Rock Star Romance Ultimate Volume 2

by Mankin, Michelle

  “Oh, dear.” He poured me a glass of cucumber water, which I accepted gratefully and downed in seconds. “I’d be happy to have the concierge send someone out to purchase some shoes for you up the street. Once the stores open, of course.”

  Right. Like I could afford shoes from anywhere in this neighborhood.

  “I don’t have time for that. Is there nothing in-house? The gift shop?”

  “I don’t think so. However, we do have flip-flops for the spa patrons. I could sell you a pair of those.” He looked something up on his computer. “I’d have to charge you sixty dollars.” He looked at me and said, “They’re pink,” like that somehow sweetened the deal.

  Sixty bucks? For a pair of disposable flip-flops? Christ. But it was that or get home barefoot.

  “Size seven please.”

  “They’re one size fits all.”

  Sure they were. “Great. Can you point me in the direction of an open drug store?”

  I paid the man, waited while he sent some underling to collect the flip-flops, then hit the road in my red lace dress, oversized pink flip-flops, and black leather jacket.

  I walked the five blocks to the twenty-four hour drugstore where I picked up a bottle of Tylenol, a gift bag and a gift card that was blank inside. Somewhat fittingly, it had a little drum on it. It was green and silver. Possibly leftover from Christmas.

  Then I bought every pack of cinnamon flavored gum they had. And every cinnamon Tic Tac.

  I ducked into two convenience stores on my way back to the hotel and bought their entire stock of cinnamon gum, too.

  In the hotel lobby, I stuffed the gum and Tic Tacs in the gift bag, threw back a couple of Tylenol with some cucumber water, and signed the card.

  Have an amazing tour. K.

  On second thought, I tossed the bottle of Tylenol in the bag.

  I left the gift bag with the front desk for “the guy in 709” since I assumed the room wasn’t under Jesse’s real name.

  I grabbed a cab and stopped by my sister’s place to pick up Max. Then I went home, had a long, hot shower and passed out in my own bed, spooning my dog.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  * * *

  Jesse

  Jude leaned back against the Bentley, settling in with his breakfast burrito as I punched the number to Katie’s apartment into the ancient intercom system. After several staticky beeps there was a click and a scratchy little voice. “Hello?”

  “Had breakfast yet?”

  Static-filled silence. “Pardon me?”

  “Have you had breakfast?” I enunciated. Through the static, I heard a scratchy little voice say a very bad word, which made me grin. “Wanna buzz me in?”

  Silence followed by some staticky fumbling and a loud buzzer.

  I found Katie’s place on the second floor. The door was ajar and a red-rimmed eyeball sized me up through the gap from behind a pair of cute, turquoise-framed glasses.

  “Please tell me you brought coffee.”

  “Nope. But Jude will get some.” Katie opened the door wider; I was already texting Jude as I stepped inside. “Nudge open today?”

  “Yes, but you don’t have to do that.” She shut the door behind me. Her dog sat at her feet, wagging his tail. “I’m sure your best friend doesn’t really want to be your errand boy.”

  “The amount I pay him to be my errand boy, I don’t give a shit. What do you drink?”

  She sighed. “A cherry-vanilla latte. Actually, make it iced, with extra—” She caught my look and gave me a little eye roll. “Just tell them it’s for Katie.”

  I texted the order to Jude, then tucked away my phone and rubbed the dog’s head. He licked me, decided I was cool and wandered off into the kitchen.

  “Max really likes you,” she said. “He’s usually kind of, um, indifferent toward guys.”

  She hugged herself as I scanned her outfit. Pink pajama pants with hearts all over them, a green tank top and mismatched socks. Not a woman expecting company.

  She followed me into the tiny kitchen and poked her nose in the bag I set on the counter. “Oh, God. Juice!” She moaned orgasmically as she dug the carton out of the bag.

  I grinned. “Playing hooky today?”

  “Nope. Threw up an hour ago.” She swatted Max out of the way and pulled a couple of lidless mason jars from a cupboard, then sloshed the orange juice into the jars and handed one to me. “Cheers,” she said, bumping her jar to mine and throwing the juice back.

  I took a swig and watched her throat work as she chugged. There was a conspicuous hickey on one side of her neck which I vaguely remembered putting there when she pretty much dared me to. Apparently the girl got mouthy when she got drunk, and since I wasn’t known for backing down from a dare—a good dare—it was a dangerous combo. A fucking fun combo.

  I unpacked the groceries and watched Katie down a second helping of juice. Despite how wrecked she was, she did hungover well. Kind of adorably disheveled, her hair piled into a messy knot-bun thing, loose strands sticking to her face. She did look a little pale, but other than that, cute as ever.

  She was also braless, which didn’t hurt. I could make out the exact shape of the perfect handful of her breasts, her nipples hard against the thin cotton. My dick definitely liked that. The pajama pants sat low, showing a slice of creamy skin, the sexy indent of her hips and the lacy edge of her white panties—

  She smushed a little burp against the back of her hand and shot me a regretful look. “’Scuse me. I feel so gross. How much did I drink last night?”

  I might’ve laughed if she wasn’t in such a sorry state. “I cut you off around four a.m., so you do the math.”

  “Ugh.”

  “You haven’t eaten?”

  “Kind of afraid to.”

  “Sit your ass down.” I started searching the kitchen for what I needed. The cupboards were old and worn and the dishes mismatched but in order, everything in tidy stacks and rows.

  “Make yourself at home,” she grumbled, but pulled a stool up to the little bar and sat. Max curled up at her feet.

  “If I was gonna do that, sweetheart, I’d be naked.” I turned up the heat under a pan and unwrapped the bacon. “Lucky for you, I’m cooking bacon.”

  “Which means?”

  “The clothes stay on.”

  “That is lucky,” she said dryly.

  Maybe she was clueless on this, but her surliness did fuck all to diminish the cute. If anything it kinda spurred me on. Which definitely wasn’t my usual mode with women. Since pretty much puberty, and definitely since fame hit, I’d become pretty comfortable with women pursuing me.

  In fact, Katie might’ve been the first woman to cross my path in years who wasn’t gunning for what she’d already decided I might be worth to her—namely my dick, the contents of my bank account, and/or one of my friends. I was pretty much ready to sales pitch this chick on why she should take my money.

  “Kill me now,” she moaned. “Dehydration hurts.” I watched her rub her little nose. In the morning light coming through the window, it had a smattering of tiny freckles on it like gold dust. “I feel like I snorted a fucking desert last night.” She poured herself another glass of juice.

  “Drinking your body weight in booze can do that.”

  She gave me a nasty, dirty look, which was beyond refreshing.

  Yeah. Katie Bloom was all kinds of interesting.

  Mainly because she didn’t seem to give one fuck who I was or what I did for a living. That much was clear from day one, at the video shoot. And damn if I didn’t like that about her even more now than I did then. Which was a lot. Enough to kiss her and send her a cherry pie afterward like some idiot with a crush.

  Enough to know I should probably forget about her. Which I’d managed to do for a while.

  But the success of the “Dirty Like Me” video was too much to ignore. It was just more proof that the girl was something special… beyond just a cute face and a great set of tits.

  I finished putting th
e bacon on to cook and dug the last item out of the bag, tossing it at her. “I brought your shoe.”

  She caught it and fumbled, but recovered. “Oh. Sorry I left it in the light fixture. What a tool.” She was blushing again; it was good to see some color coming back to her cheeks.

  “No worries. I’ve never had a girl do the Cinderella dash on me. Kind of made me feel like Prince Charming.” In truth, I’d been more than a little disappointed to wake up and find her gone.

  “You really didn’t have to bring it. I left the other shoe there anyway.”

  “I’ll have Maggie track it down.”

  “Please don’t. These things were designed by a woman-hating sadist.” She tossed the shoe on the couch behind her, watching as I sautéed the onions and mushrooms I’d already diced up at home. “What the heck are you making?”

  “You’ve never seen an omelet in the works before?”

  “Just surprised Jesse Mayes knows how to make one.”

  I ignored that and cracked a bunch of eggs into the bowl, mixed in a splash of cream and the rest of the diced veggies, and poured the whole thing into the sauté pan over medium-low heat.

  “Keep an eye on the bacon.” I handed her a fork and helped myself to a tour of the living room. Katie didn’t even have to get up to join me, just turned around on her stool.

  It was a small place, something like the first apartment I ever had, shared with Jude, Brody and Zane just after high school, when we were busting our asses to get club gigs. Just before we inked our record deal. This place was a hell of a lot cleaner, though. Smelled better, too. And the living room wasn’t crowded with unmade futons and music gear. It was just as old, just as plain, but well-kept. There was nothing on the walls. There was, however, an album collection that filled a couple of bookcases and took up one whole wall.

  I perused the vinyl, noting the overwhelming array of classic rock. “You like any music from after you were born, sweetheart?”

  “Sure. Just don’t collect it on vinyl. I grew up on classic rock and it’s pretty much in my soul. That started out as my dad’s collection.”

  “That’s cool.” I thumbed through the albums, all neatly alphabetized by band. “My mom had about three albums when I was a kid. Sugar Ray, Snow and Limp Bizkit.”

  Katie laughed. “And one wonders where his love of music came from…”

  I thumbed from Deep Purple through The Doors, the egotistical ass in me unable to resist checking to see if she had any Dirty vinyl. She didn’t. I fired up her turntable and put on Waiting for the Sun, dropping the needle on “Hello, I Love You.” When I looked up, Katie was watching me and hugging herself.

  “So where did Jesse Mayes learn to make a proper omelet?” She twisted her bottom lip between her teeth, a sweetly unsure expression on her face. “I would’ve thought you had a celebrity chef on retainer or something.”

  Right. So that was it.

  She was freaked out about the whole celebrity thing. And since she didn’t give a fuck about my celebrity in particular, my best guess was that she was freaked out about where she fit into it all. And how it was going to fuck with her life.

  Couldn’t say I blamed her for that.

  “I sometimes cooked for me and my sister when our mom was working, which was always,” I said as I went to check the omelet. “Believe me, I tried to get her to cook, but she was like six, so unless we wanted to live off toast and maybe mac ’n’ cheese, I had to do most of the cooking.” I poked the bacon, separating some strips that had stuck together. “How crispy do you like it?”

  “If by crispy you mean burnt, then yes, please. And by the way. Please don’t think I don’t appreciate the food. But are you ever gonna tell me what you’re doing here? And don’t say making me breakfast.”

  “I’m here to get your answer about the tour.”

  “I gave you my answer.”

  I locked onto her blue-green eyes. “You gave me a year’s worth of cinnamon gum and told me to fuck off.”

  “I did not tell you to fuck off.”

  “I read between the lines.” I opened the container of cheese I’d pre-shredded and dumped it over the omelet, turning down the heat. “Assuming you like triple cheese on your omelet, same as your pizza?”

  “You assume correctly.”

  “Man,” I muttered. “Chicks must hate you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You eat like a very large man and have the body of a twelve-year-old boy.” I tossed some grated cheddar into my mouth. “With awesome tits.” I looked her over, slowly, enjoying the way it made her fidget. “And hips,” I added. “And an incredible ass.”

  She shook her head as if to clear it of nonsense. “I have no idea what to say to that.”

  “Say you’ll come on tour.”

  She bit her lip again. Then she pushed her glasses up her nose, which was too fucking cute. “Honestly, Jesse, I don’t know if I can say that.”

  Damn. Really not the answer I came for.

  But this was far from over.

  “Because you don’t want to,” I said as I started flipping the bacon, “or because you’re afraid to?”

  Katie crossed her arms and glowered at me. “You said if I chose not to go on tour you’d leave me alone.”

  “That was before you snuck out in the night like a bandit.”

  “It was morning, the sun was coming up, and I didn’t steal anything.”

  “It’s cool. If you’re afraid you won’t be able to resist screwing my brains out when we’ve been lip-locked for the cameras all day, just say so.”

  “I’m sure I can find it in myself to resist the urge.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but if that was the way she wanted to play it…

  The thing was, I’d watched the video. A lot. And I’d come to a pretty interesting conclusion. It wasn’t that Katie was great at faking. It’s that she wasn’t faking at all. Every gasp I’d elicited from her, every squirm, every time her nails dug into my flesh or she bit her lip or her breath caught, every time her pupils dilated so huge I could’ve sworn she was high, she was rushing on me. Hard.

  It wouldn’t exactly be a stretch to pretend I was hot for her too. Even in her mismatched pajamas and bed hair she was making me hard.

  So maybe we’d actually be faking not wanting each other. I’d do my best if that’s what she wanted. And if I never got to touch her when no one else was around, maybe it wouldn’t be my first choice, but I could live with it.

  I still wanted her on the tour. The tour was too important to fuck up, even over a cutie like Katie Bloom.

  She chewed on her plump pink bottom lip. “Can you answer one question for me?”

  “Anything.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because the fans like you,” I said. Then I added, “And I trust you.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know enough.”

  She looked at me over her glasses like a disagreeable librarian. A really fucking hot librarian. “You know what I like on my pizza.”

  “Marriages have been built on less.”

  “And divorces have followed.”

  “I know you’re on the pill,” I said, just as the phone rang. Katie’s mouth popped open. “You told me last night. Said you couldn’t stay at the hotel because you usually take it first thing in the morning and didn’t have any with you.”

  Katie buried her face in her hands. “Oh my God.”

  “All coming back now, huh?”

  I plated the food as she got the phone and buzzed Jude up. Then I went to the door, grabbed Katie’s coffee from him, and waved him away. Jude just grinned an ear-to-ear grin, which he never fucking did.

  I shut the door before he could say a thing and returned to the kitchen, where Katie was gingerly eating her omelet. “This is really good,” she said. Then her eyes narrowed as they met mine. “So what else did you learn about me while I was all drunk and vulnerable?”

  I pulled up a stool and joined
her at the bar. “Not much. Just that you like to snuggle.” She blushed something fierce and I decided to let her off the hook. “Already found out everything I need to know anyway.”

  “Such as?”

  “Your standard stuff. Criminal record, background check, known associates.”

  Katie started to laugh, but then gathered I was serious. “Really?”

  “I’ve had you looked into.”

  “Come again?”

  “I’ve had Jude run a security check on you. On your ex-fiancé too.” Unfortunately the guy was clean, criminally speaking. I flexed my fingers, playing with my rings, distracted by the thought of that asshole hovering over Katie at the club, doing up his fucking belt.

  I attacked my omelet, irritated as fuck that I didn’t clock the dude when I had the chance.

  Katie was staring at me. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because there are things I need to know before I get involved with you. That might sound cynical, but it’s my reality.”

  “You could’ve just asked me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “Not the way it works,” I said. “If we do this, we do it my way.”

  She made a cute harrumph noise that made her sound like an uptight old lady. “Who says we’re doing this?”

  “If we weren’t, I wouldn’t still be here.” I stared her down for a few seconds, then cut the flirting and leveled with her. “Look, Katie. It’s a lot of money. And I don’t see you having any problem telling me to go fuck myself if you don’t want me here, but you haven’t done that yet. Which tells me I’ve already won you over, or at the very least, I’m about to.”

  “Maybe I just want the eggs,” she said. “And this beautiful burnt bacon.” She munched her bacon and smiled.

  Damn. The girl was cute even when she was busting my balls.

  Cuter, even.

  “Don’t think so, babe,” I said. “But nice try.” I didn’t love this part, but I pulled the folded letter envelope from my back pocket and handed it to her. “While you’re deciding to say yes… I didn’t want to lay this on you last night, with everything else, but we should go over it.”