Rock Star Romance Ultimate Volume 2

by Mankin, Michelle

“It was better than nice,” he said, his eyes like coals. They burned with strong emotion, yet his expression was blank.

  “Thank you.” My heart wanted to read so much into the compliment. “I liked getting to know you.”

  “I liked that too.” He was watching me expectantly, almost as if he wanted me to say something more.

  I shifted my weight from foot to foot. Go, Jewel. Move. Take the compliment and leave before the situation turns awkward.

  “Good luck with everything. Your mom. Your music.” I tore my feet from where they were rooted on the carpet and hurried for the door, but he stopped me.

  “I want to see you again.”

  “You do?” I spun around.

  “Today. After I square things with my label.” He pinned me in place with his gaze, then ripped the hope right out from under me. “I assume the same hourly structure applies.”

  “Yes.” Disappointment sliced me in two.

  What did you think he was going to say? This started one way. There’s no changing it into anything else.

  “Okay. Sure.” I should have said no. But I was weak, and I needed the money. Cam and I both.

  “Can I have your phone?” He moved closer, his scent flooding my senses as he narrowed the distance between us.

  “Sure.” I ducked my head, dug in my purse, and handed him my cell. Our fingers brushed, sending a tingle up my arm. My thoughts spun as I recalled how amazing it felt to have him running his hands all over me.

  He tapped at my phone, then handed it back to me. “I put in my personal cell. Text or call when you’re free, and I’ll come get you.”

  “Okay. But you can’t pick me up.”

  “Why not?” He gave me a puzzled frown.

  “I wasn’t in my neighborhood when I met you. Your Porsche on my side of town wouldn’t be good. Unsafe for you and trouble for me. I’ll come to you,” I said firmly.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  * * *

  Rush

  “I apologize for not getting back to you sooner,” I said, hoping I sounded appropriately contrite.

  Holding the phone with one hand, I raked the other through my hair, and I swore my fingers stirred up Jewel’s peach scent, which definitely stirred up other parts of my anatomy. Although it was enjoyable earlier, it was distracting now that I was being called on the carpet by the CEO of Black Cat Records.

  “You are not the only artist under contract with my label, Mr. McMahon.”

  My libido flatlined at her cutting tone. “I realize that, Ms. Timmons.”

  “Then I expect you to behave in a manner that exceeds rather than misses my expectations.” Clacking came from her end of the line, probably her manicured claws on her computer keyboard, lining up some other musician to torture. “My early morning is already filled. I was going to eat lunch at Taix with someone, but he can wait. I’ll see you there before. Eleven sharp.”

  “The French place on Sunset Boulevard?”

  “Yes, and don’t be late. We have lots to discuss. And having to cut my personal time short to accommodate you doesn’t put me in a conciliatory frame of mind.”

  She ended the call, and I exhaled heavily. Fucking hell, Timmons was a ballbuster. I didn’t like dealing with her at all, and usually let Brad run interference for me.

  I set my cell on the coffee table. Twisting my ring around and around on my middle finger, I thought about calling him, but really, all I wanted to do was sit here and think about her. Jewel.

  Not entirely true. I actually hadn’t stopped thinking about her. And I wanted to do more than think. Much more.

  But I’d almost blown it and let her get away, hoping that maybe she might want to stay of her own volition without it being just business between us. Obviously, I was an idiot. Out of touch. I’d been with so many groupies, a paid fuck felt like something real.

  It had been an hour since she left, and I’d felt every minute as a loss.

  Sure, I’d taken care of the basics. Showered. Scarfed down a full American breakfast. Gotten dressed. And I’d done it all alone, like I usually did on a break. After months of sharing a tour bus with the guys, I usually relished some “me” time. But since the door closed behind Jewel, I’d never felt so alone.

  Did she eat?

  She had money now. She could buy a lot of breakfast with the money I’d given her. But on the other hand, had I just made her a target by giving her so much cash?

  Her part of town sounded dangerous. I didn’t like the idea of her returning to it without protection.

  I picked up my phone again. Checked to make sure I hadn’t missed any calls, and that my ringer was on and the volume was turned up.

  No calls.

  Why the hell hadn’t she called yet?

  Oh yeah, douche. You just gave her a wad of money. Do you really think she’s gonna hurry back?

  I certainly hoped she would. She’d hooked me, both with her smile and that indefinable something in her eyes that seemed just for me.

  But, really, beyond the money . . . what did I have to offer her?

  ***

  Jewel

  “Don’t do it,” I said, gasping for breath. “These are my tight jeans. I can’t laugh anymore.” My sides were going to split from the endless stack at IHOP and Cam’s impressions of Wanda as the Wicked Witch of the West.

  “Come, my pretties,” my roomie said mischievously just as I took a sip of water, a mistake that shot the liquid straight out of my nose.

  “Cam . . .” I whined, dabbing at my face with a napkin. “Really. No more.”

  She grinned. “Okay.”

  I didn’t trust her, but I smiled. I couldn’t help it.

  He wanted to see me again. For cash.

  I knew what it was. I wasn’t stupid.

  But the rent was paid. We’d stocked our fridge, stashed away the leftover cash, and eaten pancakes until we were stuffed. Today was an infinitely better day than the one before it. I was going to take it, and with Rush, I was going to live in the moment.

  At least, that was the plan. It sounded doable in my head, but I knew the reality of walking the talk would be a lot harder.

  “I’m stopping.” Her green eyes narrowed. “But only so you can finally give me the deets. Spill. No more putting me off.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, for starters . . .” She leaned forward, her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands. “How deficient is he?”

  “He’s not deficient, Cam.”

  “Get out! He paid you for the whole night. Beaucoup money for it, and he’s actually good in the sack?”

  “I came. Every time. Even when we were just fooling around.”

  “No!”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your face just went all soft.” She pulled back slightly, her eyes wide. “You like him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Uh-huh.” My elation faltered.

  “You’re still going to see him again?”

  I nodded, and my chandelier earrings tickled my neck. “It’ll be okay.”

  She gave me a sharp look. She didn’t believe me either.

  “It’s a limited-time thing,” I said, not sure if I was trying to convince her or myself. “He’s a musician. He tours all over the place. His interest has a built-in expiration date.”

  “Hold up. He’s a musician who drives a Porsche. That’s not your average nightclub-performing starving artist. What’s his name?”

  “Rush McMahon.”

  “Rush McMahon!”

  Mortified, I shushed her as several patrons turned to look at us.

  Her eyes ridiculously wide, Cam scooted closer to me in our half-circle booth and lowered her voice. “Rush McMahon sold out the Staples Center last night, Jewel.”

  “Oh.” My eyes grew as wide as hers.

  “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “And I so gave him to you. This is a huge fucking deal. He’s as rich as that guy who owns that internet-streaming co
mpany.”

  Confused, I gave her a blank look.

  “Samuel Lesowski. You know, the producer who’s in that big lawsuit with his daughter.” When I merely shook my head, she waved a hand, dismissing the comparison. “Well, rich like that, but Rush is also mega hot.”

  “Yeah.” I got the hot part.

  “He’s a major player too. If we had a data plan to surf the internet, I’d show you.”

  “Here you go.” The waitress, a tall thin girl with close-cropped blond hair, had returned with our change.

  “Thanks.” I pulled out a five for her and pocketed the rest.

  “You’re welcome, honey. Hey . . . did you say you met Rush McMahon?”

  I shrugged. “Sort of.”

  “Wow,” she said, her voice all breathy. “Was he nice?”

  Arrogant, sure. But nice?

  I nodded. “Definitely.”

  “Cool. I love his music. But lately he’s been caught saying stuff . . .”

  “What kind of stuff?” I asked.

  The blonde glanced over her shoulder. The restaurant was mostly deserted. “Let me show you.”

  She slid in beside me and opened YouTube on her phone. My heart raced as Rush’s image filled the screen.

  “He has his own channel,” I whispered.

  Two million subscribers. Six albums.

  She clicked on one of the videos, scrolling too fast over an image of Rush onstage. He was wearing jeans, no shirt, his hair plastered to his head as he sang, a black electric guitar slung low across his hips.

  “Um,” I said, about to ask her to scroll back so I could hear him sing, but his voice suddenly blasted through the speakers.

  “Life sucks and then you die, right?”

  “Ah, he’s not exactly a diplomat,” Cam said, rolling her eyes.

  “He lost his dad recently.” When the words slipped out, I covered my mouth.

  “Yeah,” the waitress said, not looking up from her phone. She’d moved on to checking her emails. “And his ex-fiancée got married to his brother last night.”

  “What?”

  The blonde looked up. “You really don’t know anything about him, do you?”

  I shook my head. Apparently not. He’d left out a major detail.

  “Shoot. Well, I’d better get back to work.” She got up, took a step, then turned back around. “Hey, did you at least get a picture with him?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. Candid pics of him are rare. He only does them in the meet and greets now.”

  As soon as the waitress moved away, Cam turned to me.

  “So, start over from the beginning.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “I want to know everything.”

  ***

  Rush

  I’d just finished programming Jewel’s contact info into my car and pulled away from the Chamberlain when my cell rang through my car speakers. The display showed Jewel calling, and I grinned. She’d called. Finally.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Hey, it’s me. Jewel.”

  As if she needed to clarify. I would recognize her sultry voice anywhere.

  “Hey, Harley girl. Whatcha doing?”

  “Freakin’ out a little.”

  “You told someone you were with me last night.” The little bubble we’d enjoyed outside of reality burst. It was inevitable this would happen, but I’d hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon. “Your roommate?”

  “Yes, and a waitress at the IHOP overheard. Not about what really happened, just that I’d met you and didn’t realize who you were.”

  There was a lot of crap about me out there, some true but most not. Jewel’s opinion of me would surely go in the shitter if she caught wind of even half of it.

  “There’s a lot of talk out there that goes along with the life I lead,” I said, trying to get ahead of it. “So I give the world a show. That’s the guy they want.”

  The truth was, everyone ignored any evidence contrary to what they wanted to believe, so I no longer tried to deny anything.

  “Yeah? Like it’s who you have to be to pay the rent.”

  Jewel’s words gave me pause. There were similarities between what she did and my own career. But she did what she did out of desperation; my basic necessities were met and then some. So why did I continue doing something that made me unhappy?

  “That guy I am onstage is a part but not all of me.” I exhaled as I turned a corner, both literally with the Porsche, and figuratively in our conversation as I gave it to her straight. “I liked that you didn’t know him.”

  Being with her seemed easier, simpler, like I could be myself, or like I had a chance to be someone different. At least, it felt that way.

  “How long were you on the internet?” I asked, but what I really wanted to know was how much she’d seen and if I could dig myself out of it.

  “Not long.”

  “Okay, great. What exactly did you see? Can you give me some specifics?” Could she hear the rising panic in my voice?

  “You onstage from last night.”

  “Not my best performance.” But not too bad. I hadn’t stumbled or passed out. “And?”

  “Not much else. Just how big your following is. How many albums you have. A video someone recorded with you saying how life sucks.”

  It could have been worse.

  My new high-priority short-term goal? Keep her off the internet.

  “Oh,” she said, “and I heard about your fiancée.”

  Fuck. So now Jewel knew what a loser I was. Sure, I could have any woman I wanted, but not the one I’d wanted to keep.

  “I’m so sorry, Rush,” she said softly, sounding sincere, but her sympathy was a balm I didn’t deserve. “I know how a betrayal like that feels.”

  “What?” I nearly crashed into the car in front of me.

  “I didn’t come out to LA alone. I was with a boyfriend. He . . . we were together for a while, but when I got home from my grandmother’s funeral, I found him with someone else.” She sighed, a deep, jagged-edged exhale that sawed through the center of my chest.

  “He was an idiot.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe if . . .”

  “I’ve been with you, Jewel. Trust me. He’s a first-class fuckup.”

  “Okay, if you say so.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “Where are you?” I wanted to comfort her, almost as much as I wanted to beat up the idiot who had hurt her.

  “On the bus, actually. On my way to the Chamberlain. I wasn’t sure where you wanted me to meet you. I just assumed . . .”

  “Shit.” I couldn’t swing back to get her. If I did, I’d be late meeting Timmons, and I couldn’t risk that.

  “Can you get off? Transfer to Sunset. I’ve got an appointment with my boss at Taix, and I can’t be late. She’s already pissed at me. Could you meet me there? I’ll tell the maître d’ to expect you. We could have lunch together afterward. The food’s good.”

  I was so excited to see Jewel again, I was babbling. There was more to explore between us, but I couldn’t go there. Not yet.

  Get her. Hold her, I told myself. Then be very careful to make the most of every opportunity she gives me.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  * * *

  Jewel

  When I got off the bus, I almost thought I was at the wrong place. The name above the beige-and-brown chateau-style building was right, but the long line of half-naked girls waiting outside made it seem more like the street corner where I’d first met Rush.

  “Is this where we check into the restaurant?” I asked a brunette in a leather bra and fishnet stockings as I stepped into line behind her.

  “It’s where we wait for our turn to meet Warren Jinkins and Rush McMahon.”

  I figured it was something like that. “Who’s Warren Jinkins?”

  “You don’t know who War is?” Her brows rose as I shook my head. “The lead singer of Tempest. One of the baddest boys in rock music, and the hottest until Rush came along. He’s inside
with his girlfriend, so he’s probably out for a possible hookup, but Rush is fair game. He chose three girls from a lineup at his hotel last night, if you believe the talk in his fan chat room.”

  Rush had been with someone before me last night? Three other someones?

  Foolish, Jewel. Getting your hopes up. Forgetting your paid-for role. Believing your night with him meant something.

  “I wouldn’t waste my time, if that’s why you’re here.” Sizing me up in my jeans and tee, she blew and popped a pink bubble. “A guy like Rush would never pick you.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked as she gave voice to my fear.

  “Your clothes, for one.” She squinted her thickly mascaraed eyes at me. “Your hair. Your flip-flops.” She ticked off item after item she found lacking. “You’re not even wearing makeup, are you?”

  I was, though only a little mascara and lip gloss.

  “You look all washed out. Like you just rolled out of bed and threw on some old clothes. Sorry, hon.” She patted my arm, obviously noting her harsh comments had hit their mark. “Just telling it like it is. Keeping it real.”

  I thought of myself as a pretty laid-back person, but this chick pushed all my buttons. Narrowing my eyes, I said, “Real, meaning you’re being a bitch.”

  Her jaw dropped open, and her gum tumbled out and hit the sidewalk.

  Throwing her words back at her, I said, “That’s me telling it like it is. Keeping it real.” I took a step away from her.

  She reminded me of the girls back home. Knowing what my mom did for a living, they’d never accepted me. Part of the reason I left was because I’d wanted to live in a place where no one had built-in biases against me.

  “But I was only trying to help—”

  “Untrue.” I lifted my chin. In my work clothes, I was better prepared for cruel treatment. Bringing my shield up, I fired back. “What you were trying to do was get rid of someone you saw as competition.”

  I had more to say, but my words were drowned out by screams. I found myself swept forward in the line.

  When the crowd parted and I saw Rush, the anticipation that had made me feel like an overloaded electrical socket all day returned. Underneath the portico to the building, he stood as tall and handsome as ever, wearing the black jacket from the night before, a tee, and faded jeans. His slate-gray eyes passed over me without recognition.