by Ann,Brooklyn
Before she could respond, Dante left the room. Shayna closed her eyes and opened them. The laptop was still there. She hadn’t dreamt it. And, last night wasn’t a dream, either. In one evening, Dante had learned more about her romance-writing career than her husband had known in their almost four years of marriage.
He’d also kissed her. The brief touch of his lips on hers may have been chaste, but it had filled her with a desire that she’d before only thought existed in her imagination.
For luck, he’d said. To find inspiration—today, he was now saying.
She got out of bed and yanked open the dresser drawers, at a loss for what to wear. At a loss, period. Dante expected her to write today, and she had nothing. Her characters hadn’t spoken to her in months. And here she was, somehow supposed to face a blank page.
Why did he care so much about it, anyway? she wondered again. It’s not like he reads romance novel—
She paused, fingers frozen on the button of her jeans as his earlier words sank in.
“I stayed up too late reading.”
He’d read one of her books. Dante Deity, heavy metal icon, had read one of her novels.
Another horrifying thought followed: He read my love scenes!
Did Dante now think she was a sex-starved nympho? Although she didn’t write erotica, her books had some steamy pages. Shayna was well aware of the opinion most men held of her genre. They thought it was sappy crap or porn for women. Like all other romance authors, she’d challenged them to read one before passing judgment, but now that one had risen to the challenge… She agonized over his possible reactions to her work as she yanked off the jeans and threw on a pair of yoga pants. Then she propped the laptop on a pillow and fired it up. There was no way she had the courage to go down to his office.
Taking a deep breath, she set up the computer and opened the word-processing program. The white screen was like liquid nitrogen, freezing her instantly, cutting off all potential ideas. For what seemed like an eternity she sat there shaking, fingers poised over the keys, trying to summon a noun, a verb…anything. Finally, she let out a huge sigh, slumping her shoulders in defeat. Her eyes darted around the room to look at anything but that damn white screen, the bane of all writers.
Damn him for telling her to do this! Why was she even trying to follow his orders? Did she have some kind of complex that drew her to bossy, controlling men? He was just like her husband, always telling her what to do.
No, he wasn’t.
Dante might be an autocrat, but only about things pertaining to her well-being. And he really hadn’t even been that autocratic about that. When Shawn told her to do something, it was always to please or benefit himself in some way. Dante saved her when she was about to be raped. Shawn likely would have walked away from such a situation. When Dante found out she was hurt and had nowhere to go, he’d taken her in. Shawn wouldn’t have taken in a stray cat. Dante had told her to rest so she could heal. Whenever Shayna was sick, Shawn had still wanted her to cook him dinner and bring him beer. Dante wanted her to write because it was important to her. Shawn would have been happy if she quit. In fact, Shawn had thrown a fit when she tried to write in bed. Dante wouldn’t care where she wrote as long as she did it.
Shayna closed her eyes and pictured the man who’d saved her, who was helping her still. Aside from sometimes being pushy, he was almost too good to be real. He was too…chivalrous. Truly like he was a knight of old reincarnated. And he was far too handsome, too.
Unbidden, she relived the feel of his kiss. He’d said it was only for luck, but it had felt like so much more.
Slowly, a new thought arose. How would one of her heroines react to a kiss like that, from a man like that? What would a man like Dante be back in the days she wrote about? He was so noble, but music was an integral part of him.
Recent events had broken through the barriers of her grief. Piece by piece, The Disinherited Duke formed in Shayna’s mind. She typed up the notes at a feverish pace. When the duke—she couldn’t think of a name for him yet—lost his title and lands, he consoled himself with music and became a minstrel. Why did he lose his title? Because, she wrote, an evil duke framed him, leading the king to believe the hero was plotting against the Crown. Then the hero fell in love with the daughter of one of the king’s favored earls, and the lady was to become betrothed to none other than the evil duke. Now the minstrel had to win back his title or the lady would be lost to him and suffer a dreadful fate at the hands of his enemy!
Three hours later, Shayna had three pages of notes and the first chapter written. Her neck cramped and her stomach rumbled, but she leaned back against the pillows with a blissful sigh. She’d done it! She’d written! She had a story!
She saved her work, checked it for typos, then emailed it to Emma, praying she’d like it. She headed to the kitchen then, suddenly famished and surprised Rosa hadn’t popped in with something to eat. Still, the story continued to weave in her mind, and her minstrel knight spoke to her in Dante’s voice. And God, that felt so good.
It had been his kiss; she knew it. Never before had she been so inspired. With her previous books she’d researched some sexual content through online forums where women discussed their sex lives and exchanged tips, but most of her scenes had been from her own longings and imaginings. Shawn had been more of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am type, which wasn’t very inspirational. But now she had experienced real desire with Dante’s kiss. That made all the difference.
Rosa greeted her with a broad smile. “Hello, Senorita Shayna. Would you like breakfast or lunch?”
“Lunch would be good.” It occurred to her again that the housekeeper hadn’t interrupted her while she was writing. Dante must have told her not to. She wondered if he was still napping or if he was down in his studio working.
Her suspicions about his direction seemed confirmed as Rosa prepared a quesadilla. “Señor Deity tells me you are a romance writer.”
“Yeah.”
Shayna braced herself for an outpouring of matronly disapproval, but the housekeeper grinned and placed a plate on the table. “Good, he needs some romance in his life.”
Shayna didn’t respond, but her cheeks burned. It seemed more like it was Dante who’d brought romance into her life. Thanks to him, she had her writing back.
She had to do something to thank him. As she finished eating, an idea occurred to her. She got up and looked around in the fridge and cupboards, taking stock of the ingredients. If she could just…
“What are you doing, Miss Shayna?” Rosa asked.
“I want to cook something.”
Rosa’s voice was muffled when it reached her in the spice cupboard, but it clearly rang with confusion. “You are still hungry? You may ask me anytime if—”
Shayna turned and smiled. “No, thank you. I want to make something special for Dante, to thank him for all he’s done for me.”
Rosa grinned. “Ah. The best way to a man’s heart is his stomach.”
“No, that’s not why,” Shayna said quickly, though the thought of reaching his heart made her knees go weak.
Rosa ignored her protests and hummed cheerfully while Shayna tried to decide what to make. The choice was obvious. There were cream cheese, eggs, sugar, graham crackers and the other necessities…
Cheesecake!
***
Dante put down the second book in Shayna’s series with a frown. He’d meant to check on her progress hours ago, but this novel had sucked him in. He gave the paperback a baleful glare and headed downstairs.
She wasn’t in the office. Dante frowned again. If she had ignored him and was in the library or the pool procrastinating… A sudden whiff of heaven distracted him. He followed the scent to the kitchen and froze at the sight of Shayna’s delicious rear as she bent over the oven.
“Something smells good,” he said, straying further into the room.
She jerked upright, eyes wide like a startled doe.
“Stay out,” she commanded, char
ging forward and putting a hand on his chest to stop him. Heat flared at the contact, though she jerked away. “I want it to be a surprise,” she added in a murmur, her cheeks turning an adorable pink.
Lust ignited Dante’s loins. After being aroused by her sex scenes, her presence now bordered on physical torture. He forced himself to focus on his priorities. If she’d been wasting time in the kitchen, he’d have to give her the same lecture he gave his bandmates when they slacked off.
“How much writing have you done?”
Instead of wide-eyed denial or excuses, her face lit up with a brilliant smile, the first pure one he’d seen from her. “I have a rough three-page outline and the first chapter!” Then, without warning, she threw her arms around him. “Thank you so much for pushing me, Dante. It was exactly what I needed.”
He hardened instantly. Damn, she felt so right in his arms. Dante gave her a brief squeeze and pulled away. “I have some work to do, so I guess I’ll see you at dinner. And I’ll want to read that chapter.”
But as he headed to his private music studio, the thought of keeping Shayna around longer than this recuperation intruded. Not just keeping her here, but also kissing her, making love to her, doing the thing on page 184…
Though he shook his head to clear it and got out his songwriting notebook, he didn’t get much work done. Not with the smell of Shayna’s culinary surprise permeating his senses. And after dinner, when she presented him with the best cheesecake he’d ever tasted, Dante couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to taste her. To date her, then. It was a shame that relationships weren’t for guys like him. Collette and every woman before her had proven that.
His heart warmed as they discussed her book pitch, and a thrill of satisfaction filled him when she said the hero would be a musician. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d inspired that.
“And what’s great is, the unresolved threads from the previous books fit in like they’re meant to be there,” Shayna announced, licking the last bit of cheesecake from her lips. The shine of creative bliss in her eyes suffused Dante with a joy more intense than his usual pleasure at helping someone, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been his kiss that inspired her.
She rose from the table and hugged him once more. “I’m going to see if I can get more words down. If I don’t see you until tomorrow, thank you again. Oh, and I’m helping Rosa cook dinner tomorrow. I forgot how much I like cooking!”
Dante sighed, as the room seemed to dim when she left. She had no idea how close he’d come to kissing her again.
The feeling just got worse. As the week progressed, the thought of pursuing Shayna continued to haunt him, and it was no wonder, since the two of them were beginning to act like they were married. She spent the day in the office, typing away at her manuscript while Dante worked down in his studio until dinner, at which point she’d present him a delicious meal that she’d helped Rosa cook. At first the housekeeper grumbled about Shayna’s intrusion in the kitchen, but now it appeared she enjoyed the company.
In the evenings, Shayna and Dante would watch movies or hang out in the living room while she told him about the progress of her book. It was a relaxing routine he could definitely get used to.
Reality returned on Friday. It came like a thunderbolt, when Alex called to say he had his flight booked and was eager to start work with the others on the new album. Problems began to arise in Dante’s mind. Shayna had told him she was sheltered, and though at first he’d thought her nervousness around people was just a side effect of her trauma, he was beginning to suspect that she was naturally shy. How would she tolerate his boisterous and sometimes wild colleagues? And when he went on the road… He shook his head.
Of course, things had changed for him. When he’d been with Collette it was a whirlwind of parties, travel, fights and make-up sex, but long before they ended the marriage that lifestyle grew tedious. He much preferred his days with Shayna: drama-free and peaceful.
Wait. Was he entertaining the idea of a permanent relationship with her?
When Dante told Shayna they would soon have company, she made a valiant attempt to hide her nervousness. He wondered if her bully of an ex had made her afraid of men, or maybe she was just intimidated by the idea of even more rock stars underfoot.
She managed a smile. “O-okay, I’ll make steaks, then.”
“That’ll be great,” Dante said, heartened by the response as she straightened her shoulders as if pleased to have control over some element of the upcoming visit. She’d come so far in these last few weeks. The sadness and uncertainty had faded considerably from her eyes.
Of course, whether or not she’d be able to handle the work side of his life remained to be seen.
Chapter Ten
Shayna continued to stir the marinade for the steaks, though it didn’t need it anymore. Her hands were shaking and she had to do something to hide her nervousness. Tonight the other members of Dante’s band were coming over to begin work on their new album, and they’d be staying for a couple days. Would they laugh at Dante for taking her in? Furthermore, why did she care so much about what they thought? She’d be moving on soon. She just didn’t know where.
Dante wasn’t fooled by her calm act. “Don’t be scared, the guys are cool.”
“I’m not scared,” she insisted. I’m embarrassed. These guys had seen her at her most pitiful. These men had seen her filthy, bedraggled, and helpless. And not every man was as compassionate as Dante.
“That’s good. You shouldn’t be.” He dipped his finger in the pot and licked it. “Mmm, that’s delicious. To tell you the truth, there is one thing I’m worried about.”
“What?” Shayna whispered.
He gave her that melting smile and leaned forward. “I’m afraid that, after they taste your cooking, they’ll try to take you away from me.”
The inherent possessiveness of his words should have infuriated her, contradictory as it was—he’d done nothing since his kiss to make any romantic claim on her—but instead she felt a warm thrill in her lower body. Then the gate buzzer rang, dousing the moment.
“They’re here,” Dante said, leaving her alone.
They all entered the house. Shayna knew it was cowardly, but she remained in the kitchen listening to the boisterous male voices as she seasoned the steaks. The voices faded as the band headed downstairs, and she let out a relieved sigh that their meeting would be postponed. She wished Rosa was here, but the housekeeper had taken the night off.
Her reprieve was only long enough to finish the cooking, which took less than an hour. Just moments after she’d finished setting the table, Dante and his band appeared back upstairs.
“I’m fucking starving,” a bearded man in torn jeans and a faded shirt said as he strode into the dining room, followed by the rest of the motley crew. He saw Shayna and froze. The others bumped into him, and four pairs of eyes raked her up and down, likely imagining her undressed. She hated when strange men looked at her like this. Shayna glared over their shoulders at Dante. This was not a good start.
“Who is this?” the guy asked, still ogling her.
Dante chuckled. “This is Shayna, the woman we rescued after our last show.” He glanced over and introduced his band. “Shayna, this is Julian, the bassist, Alex, my guitarist, Zander, the drummer, and Dom, keyboard player extraordinaire.”
Julian shook his head, his brown eyes wide. “You brought her home?”
Zander laughed. “Yeah, he’s got a thing for strays. After all, he took you in when your wife threw you out.”
The man named Alex stepped forward. He brushed a lock of long blond hair from his face and extended a hand. “I’m obviously the most civilized one here. Nice to meet you, Shayna.”
Shayna shook his hand and smiled shyly as the others followed suit.
Dante pulled out her chair, giving her a lazy smile. “When you try her cooking, you’ll see why I want to keep her around a little longer.”
Shayna’s eyes narrowed.
After being called a stray, the talk about his keeping her was a little much. “You do know I’m a person and not a dog, right?”
His gaze remained level with hers until her face flushed. Then he glanced at the floor. “Yes, Shayna, I am well aware of that. I apologize.”
He sounded sincere. Shayna glanced over to see if the others were laughing, but they were too busy piling food on their plates and digging in.
“Oh my God,” Julian said through a mouthful of food. “This is the best steak I’ve ever had. Can I have her when you’re done, Dante?”
Shayna shook her head with a combination of amusement and horror. It was no wonder the guy’s wife threw him out. He had the manners of a caveman.
The rest just laughed.
Dante gave her an apologetic smile. “He’s one hell of a bassist,” he said, as if that excused everything.
There was something off about his look, actually, almost as if he were daring her to argue. Then Shayna figured it out. This was a test of some sort. She had no idea why he was testing her, but with her newly discovered stubbornness she determined she’d pass. Then she could decide if Dante passed her tests.
“Gentlemen.” She steeled her nerve and gave the band a brilliant smile. “I want to thank you all for rescuing me that night. I dread to think of what would have happened if you didn’t intervene when you did.”
To her surprise, they all blushed.
“Hell,” Zander said. “We didn’t really do anything. Security scared ’em off.”
“Besides, it was Dante’s idea,” Alex added.
“And you did fine yourself, braining that guy with your backpack,” Julian said.
The one named Dom remained silent, but he smiled and gave her a respectful nod before turning back to his meal.
“So, what were you doing there, anyway?” Zander asked. “I mean, why were you…?”
“Homeless?” Shayna said helpfully, though her gaze dared him to scorn her.