by HELEN HARDT
Fernando’s bass joined in with low harmony, and Becca on the drums pounded a steady beat. Almost time for the keyboard. Lenny knew the song by heart, of course, and Jane didn’t have to cue him. Damn if she’d cue Chandler, either. Let him figure it out on his own.
She jolted when he came in right on time. His smoky green eyes met hers as he matched every note, every chord, even adding intricate patterns to each melody and harmony that Jane had never heard before. This man made Lenny, an accomplished keyboardist, sound like a hack. After God knows how many shots, no less.
Jane jumped when Fernando nudged her. She looked toward him just as he mouthed the word “sing”.
Sing! Shit, yes, she was supposed to be singing. She cleared her throat before she advanced toward the microphone and fell into the lyrics of “Come Back Alive.” She closed her eyes, captured the colors and vibrations of the chords and harmony, swayed to the quickening beat.
Chandler’s playing only made the music more beautiful, more evocative. She sang from her heart. Perspiration dripped from her hairline when she finished to booming applause. She took a deep bow and then turned to acknowledge Fernando, Becca, and finally Chandler. His friend in the audience whistled. Even Jim, who had recovered from Chandler’s Karate chop, clapped, though less than enthusiastically.
Jane bowed once more and then looked past the audience to the entrance of the club. Two police officers stood silently, eyeing her new keyboardist.
Once the applause died down, Jane walked over to Chandler. His hands still hovered over the keys. And what hands they were! Large and golden, with long fingers that could work magic on Lenny’s keyboard. What other type of magic might they work? How might they feel cupping her face, pinching her hard nipple, sliding in and out of her pussy or her ass?
Damn! She couldn’t let his amazing looks mess with her head like that. Or his raw masculine fragrance—cloves mixed with fresh mountain air.
She shook her head to clear it. He sure as hell wasn’t her physical type anyway, and even if he were, his attitude turned her off big-time.
She grinned at him. “That was a nice job.”
He nodded. “I know music, unlike some people.”
She resisted the urge to snipe back at him. “I can see you do,” she said simply. “You’re obviously well studied. But I’m afraid your time on this stage is over.”
“Oh?” He arched his nutmeg eyebrows. “Maybe we should let the crowd decide who plays.”
Jane cocked her head and tapped her boot softly on the stage floor, relishing what was to come. “First of all, the show’s over. But even if it weren’t, I think those cops over by the door might begin to lose patience. Unless I miss my guess, they’re waiting for you.”
* * *
“What the hell were you thinking, Chan?”
The hammer in Chandler’s brain pounded harder with each of Ryan’s harsh words. Damn, his head hurt. And the fucking sun was so bright! Had Ryan parked his car in the next county?
“Taking that bouncer down was just stupid. And giving that fine young thing on stage such a hard time. Look, I know you’d had a rough day, but was it worth getting arrested?”
Fine young thing? Hell, Jane Rock was beautiful, with a smokin’ hot body that she showed off in her tight leather rocker outfits. Those long slender legs, those mesmerizing dark eyes, the onyx cascades of hair…and when she turned to face her drummer, her back had been bare and incredibly sexy. If only the strappy leather top had left her front bare too… He’d had a raging hard-on all last night watching her strut across that stage. Her voice was something else too—a natural alto with just a bit of rasp. Very sexy, even if she did use it to belt out discordant noise.
His groin tightened. But even thoughts of Miss Jane Rock’s attributes couldn’t dull the hammer. No, a jackhammer this time.
Ryan was still talking unusually loud and ridiculously fast, or so it seemed. Chandler had no idea what his friend was saying. Surely his brain would implode at any moment. “Christ, Ryan, I’ll pay you back the bail money. Just shut the fuck up, okay?”
“I didn’t have to pay any bail, moron, didn’t they tell you?”
“Didn’t they tell me what?” The last several hours had been a blur. Sharing a toilet with ten miscreants while nursing a drumming headache had never been on Chandler’s “to do” list.
“The bouncer dropped the charges.”
Chandler whipped his head around. Damn, that was a mistake. The pounding increased. “He did?”
“Yeah, they should have told you.”
“Hell, they might have. God, what is wrong with me?” He rubbed his temples.
“What’s wrong with you is you drank too much. Just be thankful Jane Rock took pity on you when I told her your sob story and talked the bouncer into dropping the charges.”
Chandler’s neck tensed. “You told her?”
Ryan grinned. “Calm down. You know I wouldn’t do that. I made something up. Said you’d been dumped by your girlfriend.”
Chandler’s muscles relaxed…a little. Humiliating, yes, but much better than the truth. The bouncer had dropped the charges. He should be thankful. Still, the thought of looking pathetic to Jane Rock rankled him, though he wasn’t sure why. Who did she think she was, anyway, intervening on his behalf? He could damn well take care of himself.
He turned to Ryan. “Thanks, man. I owe you one for having my back last night.”
“Well, I tried. I failed to keep you out of trouble, though.”
“You couldn’t have stopped me and we both know it. I was primed for trouble, and I think I found it.”
“What do you mean?”
“A black-haired rocker named Jane. She won’t get away with this.”
“Get away with what? Getting your charges dropped?” Ryan shook his head. “You’re something else, Chan. You ought to be thanking her.” Ryan opened the door to his car and sat down in the driver’s seat.
Chandler took his place in the passenger’s seat.
“In fact”—Ryan started the engine—“you can thank her this morning. I’m taking you to her place.”
Chandler jumped in his seat and hit his head against the vinyl ceiling of the car. There went the jackhammer again. “You’re what?”
“Did I stutter? I’m taking you to her place.”
“Why in hell would you do that?”
“Because you were in no shape to drive last night, and neither she nor I wanted to leave your Benz at the club all night. The neighborhood’s a little iffy, as you know.”
Yeah, he knew. His Mercedes would have been stripped and sold for parts before sunrise. But why her? “Why didn’t you drive my car?”
“Uh, I had my own car to drive. We met there, remember?”
Right. Fuzz still cluttered his mind. But again, why her? She was probably halfway to Mexico by now. In luxurious air-conditioned comfort.
Within a few minutes, Ryan pulled into a modest apartment complex on the outskirts of downtown. There it was—his luxury sedan—parked in front. At least it was covered under a carport. Had she used her own parking spot?
“Here you go, pal. She’s in number 403.”
Chandler widened his eyes. “You’re leaving me here? You’re not even coming up with me?”
Ryan let out a chuckle. “You’re a big boy. You made your bed, now go lie in it.” He shook his head. “I mean that figuratively, of course.”
Ha! Chandler was in no shape to lie in anyone’s bed at the moment, though Jane Rock and her perfectly sculpted body were certainly tempting. “You’re serious.”
“Totally. I have things to do today, and this isn’t on the schedule. Get out.”
“Some friend,” Chandler muttered as he opened the car door and stepped onto the pavement.
Chapter Two
Several hours in jail hadn’t done anything to lessen Chandler Hamilton’s physical appeal. The man was a god. Nature had certainly wasted a vast amount of beauty on the jerk. Even with his striped shirt wr
inkled, his golden hair a mess, he was the most delicious hunk of flesh Jane had seen in some time.
“Hello, Chandler,” Jane said as she held the door open.
“How do you know my name?”
“Ryan, of course, though I could have easily checked the registration in your yacht on wheels out there. You’re Chandler Wade Hamilton the third, of blood bluer than the Pacific. I know all about you.”
“Ah, yes. The curse of the family name.”
“Ha! If it’s a curse to have everything handed to you since day one, please”—she held up her hands—“let your curse fall upon me.”
“Look”—Chandler raked his long fingers through his disheveled blond locks—“could I just have my keys?”
“Sure. Come in for a minute and I’ll grab them for you.”
He shuffled in slowly. Poor thing was no doubt exhausted.
Poor thing? Had that thought really just crossed her mind? The poor thing had heckled her all last night and had cost her Lisa Taylor’s representation. By the time Jane and Ryan had talked Jim out of the charges, Lisa had already left, taking Jane’s big break with her.
“Thanks for not wrecking my car.”
She sighed. What an asshole! No use getting bent out of shape at his rudeness. “I do happen to possess a valid driver’s license in the name of Jane Christine Rock. Which is my real name, by the way.” She waved toward the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll go get your keys.” She hurried to her bedroom and retrieved them from her purse. “Here you are.” She jingled them as she returned to the living room.
Shit. He’d fallen asleep on her couch. A soft snore sneaked from his throat. Just what she needed. She knelt down beside him and nudged him gently. Damn, his hard muscled shoulder felt wonderful beneath her fingertips. Better shoulders didn’t exist on the planet, she was certain.
“Chandler, wake up.”
“Mmmm.” His deep voice rumbled, a husky caress.
Why the hell was this turning her on? Yeah, he may look like a god, but he was an asshole of major proportions.
“Damn it, Chandler, come on.” She nudged him again.
“Mmmm. Jane.”
“Yes, it’s Jane. I’m right here.”
One green eye slid open. “Mmmm. Beautiful Jane.”
Beautiful? He gripped her forearm and pulled her downward until her lips were inches from his full pink mouth.
“Kiss me, Jane Rock.”
Was he kidding? He raised his head slightly and brushed his soft lips against hers. Apparently not kidding. Electricity tingled through her and landed between her legs. Damn. From one little kiss?
Chandler’s emerald eyes widened. Had he felt it too?
Within seconds Jane found herself on top of the tousled hunk, his hardness pressing into her thigh. His full mouth, lips slightly parted, beckoned. His breath was warm on her cheek. Before she could think herself out of it, she pressed her mouth to his once more.
The tip of his tongue glided across the seam of her lips, and with each gentle caress, her skin ignited. Her breath caught and rasped out in a shallow pant when she parted her lips. He tasted of peppermint, and his tongue was sleek and warm against hers. She chased it, nibbled at it, sucked on its soft tip. Every cell in her body screamed at her to explore his mouth, to kiss him harder.
Yet she held back. This was Chandler Hamilton the third, asshole extraordinaire who had screwed up her chance with Lisa Taylor. She pulled away. “Look, Chandler, this is—”
His talented hands captured her face between them and pulled her back to his mouth. He thrust his tongue inside, not gently this time, but with a forceful domination that pulled her into his heat. Their lips slid against each other, and their tongues entwined and swirled together. Rumbling moans from his throat vibrated against the inside of her mouth and fueled her lust.
She wanted Chandler Hamilton the third. She wanted him to take her to bed.
After a few frenzied moments of kissing, he broke their connection with a loud smack and nibbled across her cheek to her earlobe. “Where’s your bedroom?” he whispered.
Her mind a jumble, Jane slid off his hard body and grabbed his hand.
“Mmmm,” his voice rasped from behind her. “Such a nice ass. Even in those gray sweatpants. But especially in that tight leather skirt you were wearing last night.”
He had noticed? Through the haze of his drunkenness? She had sure noticed him despite his crass behavior. Even rumpled as he was, a finer specimen of manhood didn’t exist at this particular moment.
Could she really do this? Sleep with him? She hadn’t had sex in so long, he might find cobwebs down there.
She was dripping already, so wet she might not even feel him thrust into her. When she reached her bedroom, Chandler pressed her against the door, flattened his palms against the hard wood, and caged her. He pressed his erection into her lower back.
Oh, she had noticed while lying on top of him that nature hadn’t cheated him in that department either. Didn’t matter how wet she was—she would definitely feel his thrust. She inhaled a shallow breath.
“You’re gorgeous.” His raspy whisper caressed the sensitive skin of her neck.
Tiny ice drops penetrated the scorching blood in her veins. She shuddered.
“I want to slip inside you. Fuck you slow and sweet, and then hard and fast.”
“God.” She thunked her forehead against the door.
“I want to taste your pussy on my tongue, baby. I bet you’re spicy. Then I want those ruby red lips around my cock.” His soft mouth brushed against her neck. “I’ll fuck you all day. All day long.”
Jane slumped against the door. His words of seduction floated around her mind, jumbling and then unjumbling. She’d never gone to bed with a man she’d just met. Never slept with a man she didn’t like. Nor had she ever gotten it on with such a fine hunk of manhood.
What am I doing?
His granite-hard erection thrust above the cheeks of her ass. Oh, yeah. This was definitely going to happen. They were going to fuck.
The doorknob clicked as Chandler’s closed his strong hand around it and turned. Jane nearly fell into the room, but he caught her and again his cock pushed into the small of her back.
“You have a tattoo here, don’t you?” His breath feathered against the sensitive skin of her neck.
Tattoo? What was he talking about?
“Here.” He pushed his arousal against her back once more.
Tingles shot through her. “What?”
“It’s a dragon. I saw it on stage. Your skirt was cut so low, and your leather top showed your bare back. When you turned around to signal your bassist”—he let out a gush of air against the side of her face—“I saw the dragon.”
“Oh?” Right, she had a dragon. Had been born in the year of the dragon. Thirty-fucking-four years old and still single. Still undiscovered.
And it was this man who had cost her the chance at discovery the previous night. What on earth was she thinking? She had to stop this. Yes, stop this…
His soft lips grazed the side of her neck and then her shoulder, as he pushed away the strap of her cotton tank. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” His breath caressed her upper arm. “I watched you the whole time I was on stage.”
“But you…” Think, Jane. Get the words out. Forget how amazing his lips feel on you. “But you…never missed a chord. Never missed a note.”
“Mmm.” He rained tiny kisses along her shoulder blade and up the slope of her jawline. “I’ve had some training. Lots of practice.”
“But to be able to follow so well, so elaborately…”
“Shh. I don’t want to talk music right now. I want to worship your beautiful body.”
“Oh, Lord…” Jane closed her eyes and let Chandler lead her to the bed. “I can’t do this…”
He turned her to face him. His green eyes smoked. “Why not? You’re here. I’m here.”
Kisses. So many sweet sexy kisses. Tiny butterfly kisses to her chin, he
r throat. The sensual sting of his stubbled cheek rubbed against her.
“And I want you.” He pushed his hardness against her flat tummy. “I’d bet my fortune that you’re wet right now.”
Uh, yeah. Dripping, to be exact. But that didn’t change the fact that…
He slid one strong hand from her shoulder down her arm, to cup her mound. “Juicy, I bet. Spicy and wet and beautiful.”
The friction of her sweatpants and undies against her clit prickled her skin. Her blood boiled.
“You want me,” he said, his voice raspy. “You can’t deny it, Jane Rock. You want me to take you to that bed and fuck you all day long.”
God, she did! She wanted a good hard fucking. A pounding. Deep kissing, deep penetration. She wanted his cock everywhere—her mouth, her pussy, even her ass.
“Say it,” he said. “Say you want me.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing emerged. Her body was on fire, engulfed in blazing flames. The blood in her veins had turned to boiling ambrosia and her skin was both heated and chilled. Sensory overload…
“Say it,” he commanded again, his voice lower this time. More sensual.
She closed her eyes, tipped her head back. His lips grazed the pulse point on her throat and a quiver raced through her.
“I want you. I want you to take me to bed.”
He cupped her face and he thrust his tongue into her mouth. A deep kiss, a passionate kiss. Not a nice kiss. No, not nice at all. Possessive, primal, and very, very sexy.
A soft sigh escaped Jane’s throat as she let her tongue tangle with his. Again his flavor, a mixture of peppermint and musky spice, assaulted her taste buds. She deepened the kiss, letting out soft moans that got lost in the passion of their mouths.
On the bed. How had they gotten on the bed? Jane lay flat on her back, Chandler on top of her, his jean-clad erection grinding onto her fleece-clad mound. So very good. Her skin prickled, her clit pulsed. She had never climaxed fully clothed before. Never…