MenageaMusic

by Lily Harlem

  Ménage à Music

  Lily Harlem

  Most women would think themselves eternally lucky to have a hot, sinfully sexy rock star giving them the serious come-on—so imagine how I felt to find not one but two giving me the eye! Phew! I was turning somersaults.

  But of course this led to a massive and, quite honestly, unenviable dilemma. How the heck do you choose between two rock gods who want nothing more than to give you pleasure of the extremely intense variety?

  Lucky for me these global superstars were brothers who knew just how to share the same toy—sorry, I mean woman. That left me free to take a break from managing the band and let their experienced, talented hands manage me.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Ménage à Music

  ISBN 9781419932212

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Ménage à Music Copyright © 2011 Lily Harlem

  Edited by Jillian Bell

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book publication March 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Ménage à Music

  Lily Harlem

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  BBC: The British Broadcasting Corporation

  Harrods: Harrods Limited

  Marlboro: Philip Morris USA Inc

  Swarovski: Swarovski Aktiengesellschaft

  Tiffany: Tiffany & Company

  Chapter One

  Six months was long enough to nurse a broken heart. Long enough to fold inward and mope about what had been lost between Nick and me. And now, as the Christmas season approached, I’d taken a firm grip of myself and finally emerged from my black, fogged gloom.

  It had started with a trip to a ludicrously priced hairdresser who’d cut my hair into a sharp, jaw-length bob and topped up my golden highlights. It suited me, my face was small, my pale blue eyes big, and exposing my neck made my petite frame more balanced. Next I’d gone on an Oxford Street shopping spree, flexed that plastic without worrying about the cost of a range of snazzy new clothes, luxurious toiletries and decadent makeup. I hadn’t shopped since I’d taken on the job of artist relations manager back in the summer, so my bank account coped quite admirably.

  Robbie and Ian’s girls, Jenny and Nina, hardly recognized me; neither did the guys from Manic Machines, when I walked into the studio after my days off.

  “Sylvia!” Nina exclaimed, clasping her hands beneath her chin. “You look amazing.”

  “Yeah,” Robbie agreed, eyeing me up and down. “You been on holiday?”

  “No, just enjoying a bit of ‘me’ time.”

  “Well it looks like it’s done you a world of good,” Jenny said, handing me a coffee. “I love your hair.”

  I touched the ends of my bob and glanced at Tim and Dean Coltrane, the brothers in the band. They lolled side by side on a squidgy navy sofa in jeans and worn t-shirts. Their smoldering gazes lingered on me from beneath their matching heavy fringes. Tim seemed fascinated by my legs, which were covered in sheer black stockings, and Dean had his head cocked looking up into my face. I watched him shift in his seat and rub at the half-sleeve tattoo covering his right upper arm.

  “Thanks, Jenny,” I said, taking the coffee. I took a sip and beat down a wave of intense pleasure at the way my new look had been received.

  “We’ve just started blending the last track on the album,” Ian told me, leaning over a huge table crammed with sliding buttons and flashing lights.

  “Great,” I said. “And guess what…” I paused and they all stared at me expectantly. “We got the Christmas Eve slot on The Claudia Tate Show.”

  “Brilliant,” Tim said with a grin. “Well done.”

  “Yeah, let’s hope SlipKnot is number one for Christmas then,” Nina said, rubbing her hands together.

  “It will be,” I said confidently, plonking down my briefcase. “Sales are reaching record levels and it was only released three weeks ago.”

  *

  Two weeks later, beneath the red and gold tinsel sprawling around the ceiling of the BBC’s green room, I sat with the band, Jenny and Nina, waiting for Manic Machines’ turn on The Claudia Tate Show. We’d all had a glass or two of rich mulled wine, even though I was officially working, and the atmosphere held just the right amount of the anticipation of prime time TV and the relaxed hum that Christmas Eve brought.

  I sat on a straight-back couch next to Tim. He was bulkier than his brother—I guessed it was from all that hammering he did on the drums—and each time he lifted his drink to his mouth the round ball of his shoulder brushed my thin red sweater. His wide thigh, encased in black jeans, the predominant color the band wore, was pressed against my tight gray pencil skirt, and heat from his body was pouring into me, giving me a lovely tingling glow that had nothing to do with the festive wine.

  I glanced at Jenny, who was sporting an enormous Ceylon sapphire on her left ring finger. The plan was for Robbie to announce their engagement on the show in a few minutes. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled as he sat with his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

  Dean was perched on the arm of my chair. “What are you up to for Christmas, Sylvia?” he asked, topping up my glass.

  My gaze moved up from the faded metallic skull smoking a joint on his t-shirt to his smiling green eyes. “Not much,” I said as the scent of cinnamon and berries, man and musk, swirled around me. “Chilling out with the remote and a box of chocolates I expect.”

  Dean pulled his mouth down. “Sounds dull.”

  “After running around after you lot for months it will be a merciful relief,” I said with a laugh.

  “I can think of better ways to get some relief,” Dean whispered with a twinkle in his eyes and a naughty tilt to the corner of his mouth. “Much better ways.”

  “Mmm, I just bet you can.” I giggled and took a sip of my replenished drink. Lately I’d gotten used to the banter with Dean and Tim. It seemed they were always trying to evoke a blush from the tips of my toes to the top of my scalp.

  “We could help you out with stress relief if you want, Sylvia,” Tim leaned into my ear to whisper. “Make sure your Christmas is a whole lot more interesting than TV and chocolate.”

  I turned and almost bumped noses with him. “Well, I—”

  “Come on, come on,” a sudden shrill voice called from the doorway. “You’re on in two, for goodness’ sake.”

  I looked at the weaselly floor director flapping his arms and shuffling his feet in the doorframe.

 
“Where’s your relations manager?” he directed at Robbie with a frown.

  “Just there,” Robbie said, smiling and pointing at me.

  I peered over my glass of wine with its bobbing slice of orange. I was hemmed in, Tim nestled close and Dean leaning over me. I liked it, their big, gorgeous bodies were attentive, close and warm. It made me feel small and protected, but I knew it didn’t look professional to be giggling and drinking wine with the band.

  “For goodness’ sake,” the floor manager snapped at me. “Get these guys out there.”

  “Don’t stress it. We’re coming,” Ian said as he stood and pressed a kiss to Nina’s cheek.

  “You better get a move on,” I said to Tim, who was still leaning into me and, from his relaxed posture, appeared to have no intention of going anywhere. “There’s twenty million people waiting for you.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll wait. I kinda like sitting here next to you, you’ve got a lazy look in your eyes after all that wine. Like you just want to slip into bed all warm and cozy and…” He paused and swept his tongue over his bottom lip.

  “And…” I said, and instantly regretted it when I saw his grin spread so wide, rarely seen dimples appeared in his cheeks.

  “And naked.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said, desire sparking in my stomach. Lust and sex had been missing from my life for too long, and more and more I was wondering if maybe Tim or Dean could fill the void.

  Dean took the glass of wine from my hand then cupped my elbow as I stood.

  “Get yourselves out there.” I tried to use my most stern voice and narrowed my eyes fiercely.

  “Yes Miss,” Dean said, and before I knew it his lips had brushed mine, the merest of touches. But it left a hint of the softness of his mouth and the delicious flavor of him that matched his woodsy male scent.

  I caught my breath as he threw a cheeky grin upward. Following his gaze, I saw he held a sprig of mistletoe above my head. “Got you,” he said with a wink. Then he turned and headed out the door after Robbie and Ian.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Tim said, reaching out and tucking a strand of my new hairdo behind my ear. “We won’t be long.” He ducked his head and before I knew it he too was kissing me. But his kiss was longer, harder, and his tongue peeped into my mouth.

  My heart fluttered, my knees weakened. What was happening? But before I could respond, he too was gone. I faltered on my heels and pulled in a shaky breath.

  “Hey, you okay, Sylvia?” Nina asked from her chair, her eyes wide.

  “Er, yeah.” I touched my tingling lips. “I think so.”

  “Looks like you’ve got two admirers,” Jenny said with a grin, helping herself to another glass of mulled wine. “And a decision to make.”

  I swallowed tightly and sat back down, grateful for the chair to support my weak muscles. There had been no mistaking what the kisses had meant. I didn’t need it spelled out. This had been brewing for weeks. My hot new look and the return of my confidence had changed Tim and Dean’s view of me. I was no longer the girl who organized their day-to-day schedule and the details of their lives. I was hot and they both liked me. Both wanted me.

  My only dilemma was, I liked both of them, wanted both of them. How would I ever choose? Jenny was right, it was a difficult decision, a decision I didn’t know if I could make.

  Chapter Two

  I hung out in the green room with Nina and Jenny, watching the interview on a flat screen. Robbie did the majority of the chatting and after a few minutes announced his engagement to Jenny. The result was a scream of excitement and wild clapping from the live audience.

  When the frenzy calmed, Claudia folded her arms. “So,” she said, stretching her ruby-red lips wide. “If that’s two members of the hottest band on the planet taken, girls will be worrying about their chances of bagging a Manic Machine. Tell me, Dean, Tim, is there anyone special in your lives?”

  Tim sat with his ankle over his knee and his arm stretched along the back of the couch behind Dean. “Might be,” he said with a grin. It was the first time he’d spoken.

  “Go on,” Claudia said, leaning forward with encouraging eyes.

  “You’ll just have to watch this space,” he said with a slow bob of his head, tugging his bottom lip with his teeth.

  “Oh, very coy.” Claudia laughed. “And Dean, what about you?”

  Dean looked at Tim. His eyes narrowed and a muscle flexed in his stubbled cheek. “Mmm,” he said, his focus not leaving his brother’s face. “Yeah, there’s someone I have my eye on too.”

  “Tell us more,” Claudia said, raising her perfectly arched brows.

  “Well, obviously I can’t go in to detail.” He poked at a cigarette packet shoved up the hacked-off arm of his t-shirt. “But I will say Tim and I have amazingly similar taste in women.”

  Tim cocked a dark brow at Dean.

  There was a moment of heavy silence.

  “Oh, goody,” Claudia said, rubbing her hands together and bouncing up and down on her seat. “A battle of the brothers, who will get the girl? And I must say…” She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead in a dramatic swoon. “She’s the luckiest girl on the planet.”

  My heart fluttered and a flush of heat spread across my chest and up my neck. Oh my god, were they talking about me? They’d just announced on national prime time TV that they both liked the same girl. Unless my antenna for spotting serious flirting was well off track, that girl had to be me.

  I caught Jenny and Nina swapping meaningful looks.

  “What?” I asked, swallowing down a lump the size of Santa’s sack.

  “You don’t stand a chance,” Jenny said with a twitch of her brows.

  “No,” Nina agreed. “You have two of the most determined guys in the world after you. It’s gonna get real messy.”

  I poured another mug of warm, fragrant wine and gulped it down in two swallows.

  “And it’s going to be so much fun to watch,” Jenny said on a giggle, reaching for the remote.

  She turned up the sound on the TV as the guys took to the stage and began to hammer out SlipKnot, their Christmas number one.

  A wave of excitement washed through me that had nothing to do with Christmas and everything to do with the two hot brothers I couldn’t stop imagining getting naked, sweaty and knotting my limbs with.

  *

  The band rolled back into the green room on a high. Robbie swept Jenny into his arms and kissed her until the others shouted at them to get a room.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he said laughing, “We will en route to the cottage. We’ve got both sets of families waiting for us so it’s not going to be our usual sanctuary.” He helped Jenny into a long red coat. “See you all after the holidays, have fun.”

  Ian slapped him on the back as he walked past to the door. “Our fate’s worse than that,” he said on a groan.

  “Hey!” Nina poked at his ribs. “You love going to visit Dee and Matt.”

  “Dee and Matt, yeah, it’s the little ankle biter, he makes so much noise and jeez, the smell from those nappies.” He wafted his hand in front of his face.

  “Be nice.” Nina frowned.

  “I am going to be nice.” He grinned suddenly. “Anyway it’s good practice for, you know…”

  Nina looked up at him.

  “For when we have some ankle biters to fill that town house you just made me splash out on,” he said, pulling her into a hug.

  “Mmm, I think we should practice the first part of the process for a bit longer,” Nina giggled. “Make sure we’ve perfected it.”

  “Suits me just fine,” Ian said, grabbing his leather jacket from the sofa and throwing an arm around her shoulders. “See you all soon, have a good one.”

  “I had all the presents delivered,” I called after their retreating backs. “To Dee’s house.”

  “Thanks, Sylvia,” Nina shouted over her shoulder. “You’re a star.”

  The green room suddenly went quiet. With t
he end of the show the TV had gone off and it was just me, Tim and Dean looking at one another.

  “So,” said Tim, studying me with a decidedly predatory curl to his lip. “You wanna share our ride?”

  “It’s okay, I’ll grab a cab.”

  “No you won’t, not on Christmas Eve, it’ll be mad out there. Come on, share the car,” Dean said. “You know it makes sense.”

  I looked into his eyes, his eyelids were heavy, his mop of dark hair hung low. Something told me this was more than an offer of a lift and I couldn’t resist finding out exactly what. “Okay.” I nodded and reached for my bag and coat. “That would be great.”

  The band’s sleek black chauffeur-driven car waited a hundred yards from the side entrance to the studio. We scurried through the biting cold and jumped in the back. I sat in the middle, the leather soft on my legs and the warmth of the heater welcome around my ankles. We pulled into the heavy traffic where the amber glow of streetlamps and the bright white of headlights mixed with the red and gold of illuminated street decorations.

  “You cold?” Dean asked, taking my hand in his big, warm one.

  “Mmm, a little.”

  He squashed my hand between his palms and began to rub. There were calluses on his fingers from where he held his guitar. “We’ll soon warm you up.”

  “Take us to the apartment,” Tim said, leaning forward to the driver.

  “But…?”

  Tim turned to me and shoved a hand through his hair, longer and messier than Dean’s. “For a nightcap, Sylvia.” He took my other hand in his.

  I felt a tingle run up my arm, a delicious wave of excitement at his gentle touch and the soft look in his eyes.

  “Go on,” Dean murmured. “You know you want to.”

  I swallowed as a well of sensation slid up my arms, across my shoulders and settled in my chest. The two big men, surrounding me, touching me, knew exactly what I wanted. Was I that easy to read? “Okay,” I said. “Just for a nightcap.”

  As we stepped out of the car into the darkness, several fat flakes of snow landed on my cheeks. I looked up into the night sky and saw the Christmas lights of the houses opposite reflected in the glass and steel of their tall apartment building.