by D'Ann Lindun
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kennedy and Liam left the employment agency, satisfied with their hire—a young woman with a glowing resume and impeccable references. They stopped at a coffee shop where they purchased lattes for the drive home.
The girl behind the counter lit up when she spotted Liam. “Are you—?”
“Yeah, but let’s keep it between us, ok?” He winked at her and she smothered a squeal.
Her cheeks blazed. “Could I have a selfie with you?”
“Sure. Can you come out here?” He motioned for her come from behind the counter, then placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. He took her phone and snapped the photo. “Looks good.”
“Thanks so much!” she gushed. “I love Rose Full of Thorns. It’s my favorite song.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Kennedy watched, impressed by how kind he was to the young fan. Maybe it was because he was relatively new to fame, but taking time like this was unusual. She wondered if Cowboy would be so patient with his followers.
Finally, they received their drinks and exited the old house which had been converted into the coffee shop.
In the car, Kennedy spoke. “You made her day.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to be nice and one fan leads to two, then three and four…”
“Surely you’re past that?” She sipped her caramel latte. “You know, gaining one fan at a time…?”
“I’ll never be past it,” he said. “Even if we have a million hits the fans are what matter.”
“Wow, nice concept.”
He looked at her over the rim of his cup. “You sound skeptical.”
She merged into traffic. “I just think everyone gets tired of the fame, sooner or later.”
“There are downsides,” he agreed. “But, not the fans.”
“Or the money?” She arched a brow.
“That’s nice, too.” He looked away. “A lot better than being a starving artist.”
“Did you starve before fame came along?” She’d been handed a trust fund at twenty-one. Struggle had never been part of her life.
“I did,” he confirmed. “Literally.”
She eyed his lean frame. “Doesn’t look like you’re lying around getting fat.”
He laughed. “Thanks, I think.”
“You know you’re hot.” She snorted. “I’m sure plenty of girls tell you often enough.”
“I’m certain you’re not short on admirers yourself,” he countered.
She tossed her head. “Hundreds.”
He chuckled. “I’m not doubting you. Anyone current?”
“No.” She didn’t elaborate, hoping he’d drop it.
“Not into cowboys?”
She shot him a panicked glance, then realized he’d said cowboys, not Cowboy. She fought to make her voice normal. “I haven’t met anyone special.”
“No one?” He placed a hand over his heart and made a sad face.
“You’re special, all right,” she said. “But not the kind you mean.”
“Cruel woman.” He sighed dramatically. “You can’t believe all the terrible things you hear about me.”
“I might not if you’d tell me something different.” She let the statement hang, their banter suddenly turning serious.
“This is off the record.” He stared out the window at the passing cars. Finally, he spoke again. “She had the face of an angel. But her beauty was only skin deep.”
“Whitney?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“You met at a party for your band?” Kennedy prompted.
“Yeah.” Again, a long pause. “She came up to me, said she loved me music.”
“And you were smitten?” A pang of jealousy ripped through Kennedy, although she had no idea why she’d care about his past lovers.
“I was. Instantly.” He grinned wryly. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”
Personally, Kennedy thought it had more to do with what his body, not heart, had wanted, but she kept that observation to herself. “And, you began an affair.”
“Yeah.” He raked a hand through his hair. “We did.”
“With a teenage girl,” she said a little sardonically.
“Eighteen going on eighty.” A slight smile played around his mouth before vanishing like the sun on a cloudy day. He seemed lost in his thoughts, staring out the passenger window.
She waited. He either wanted to tell her, or he didn’t. Finally, he spoke.
“Then I got her pregnant.”
Kennedy’s heart pinched at the raw pain in his voice. “And you didn’t want the baby?”
“Not at first,” he admitted. “But as the reality of fatherhood grew on me, the more I liked the idea of being a da.”
“Then, why did she—?”
“Because she wanted a stay-at-home da, not a musician on tour.” His tone was flat.
This was new. She hadn’t heard this part before. It put a new slant on things. She thought of Cowboy and how he had taken Montana with him until she became too uncomfortable and retired to the ranch to wait for their child’s birth. “You couldn’t be a dad and tour, too?”
“Not according to Whitney. It was quit the band, give up the tour…”
“And you forced her to choose?” Kennedy couldn’t keep the censure out of her voice as an image of Cowboy and how he’d handled an unplanned pregnancy again flitted through her head.
Liam twisted the cord on his wrist. “I couldn’t give up everything I’ve worked for my entire life to carry around a purse like some lackey. I wanted it all—Whitney, the child and my career. Just not a wedding ring that felt like a noose.”
“And by picking your music you left her no choices,” Kennedy reminded him, even as she recalled Montana’s take on this subject.
When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified,” she’d said. “Johnny didn’t know, and I was alone. But I was ready to do whatever it took to make a life for my baby, no matter how he felt about it.”
“Not true.” Despair filled Liam’s voice, making it shake. “I offered to co-parent when I returned, but Whitney flatly refused. She told me to leave…we were over. I didn’t know her plans until she appeared on all the talk shows telling the world what she’d done, and that it was my decision, not hers.”
Kennedy’s heart softened. He wasn’t a complete jerk after all. He hadn’t turned his back on Whitney, or the child they created together. “Why haven’t you defended yourself against her accusations? Cleared your name?”
He snorted. “And say what, exactly? That I fell in love with a teenage girl, not a woman? Someone who’s a self-centered, spoiled brat who cares about only herself? Yeah, that would endear me to the masses.”
“Tell them what you just told me. The truth.” She sipped her lukewarm latte.
“I don’t want to drag her through the mud,” he said. “If blaming me helps her save face, then my shoulders are broad enough to carry the load.”
“But you’ve taken a beating for something you didn’t do,” Kennedy reminded him as she replaced her Styrofoam cup in its holder on the dash. “Lost fans and record sales.”
He continued to twist the bracelet on his wrist. “How would sharing all her dirty laundry help anyone? It wouldn’t change anything now. It wouldn’t turn back time.”
“Everyone would know the truth—that you didn’t turn your back on a young woman and walk away from her when she needed you.” Kennedy paused. “It would shine a different light on the whole situation.”
“People will either think the best or the worst of me,” he said with a shrug. “If anyone believes an Irish Catholic boy would be force his girl to do something like that, then they don’t know me at all…” He shook his head. “Jesus forgive me.”
“I don’t think you’re the one who needs forgiving,” she said.
His eyes when they met hers were bleak. “I disagree. If only I’d been a better man…not so selfish…”
Kennedy flinched. S
he had thought the worst of him, along with everyone else. In her defense, though, she’d asked and he’d refused until now to explain himself. She wondered if the reason he didn’t want to smear Whitney’s name was because he still had feelings for her.
She turned into Cowboy’s long driveway, mind churning.
Liam broke into her thoughts. “Wonder who’s here?”
Kennedy followed his line of sight to a gleaming black Mercedes parked in the circular drive. “I don’t recognize that car. Most of Cowboy and Montana’s friends drive pickups.”
“Maybe a record company executive. They all seem to fancy rides like that,” he said.
“I’ll text Cowboy from home and ask him.” Kennedy drove past the mansion, toward the guesthouse. At her front door, she parked and turned to Liam. “Thanks for coming along today. And, thank you for telling me the truth. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through.”
He paused from reaching for the door handle to look at her. “It feels good to finally tell someone my side of things.”
“Wait.” She shook her head. “What? You mean no one else knows your side? Not even Cowboy? Why me and why now?”
“Because it matters what you think about me,” he said simply.
She met him halfway when he leaned across the console.
There was no doubt in her mind what he wanted when he planted his lips over hers. His mouth clearly conveyed he wanted her naked and under him, or maybe on top. But, whichever way, he needed his cock inside her.
And she wanted him, too.
Maybe she’d regret it tomorrow, maybe not. But, right now, she craved the rock star. She opened her mouth for his plundering tongue. He tasted like caramel. And whipped cream. A naughty idea of what they could do with whipped cream flashed through her head and she shivered.
He covered her right breast with his hand, and her nipple responded, pressing against her silk bra. Her entire body craved his naked and next to her, where she could explore every inch of him. She looped her hands behind his head, her thumbs in his silky hair, and sucked his tongue until he moaned.
Pulling away, he stared into her eyes. The look in his was unmistakable. Hot desire flashed there. “You want to take this inside? We might be a bit more comfortable in a bed, or at least on the sofa.” His voice was husky.
“Yeah.” She unhooked her hands from behind his neck and smoothed the front of her dress. She reached for the door handle with a shaking hand. “Let’s go.”
When she rounded the front of the car, he took her hand and they walked together toward her house. Kennedy’s heart pounded so hard she could hardly breathe. A million reasons she shouldn’t do this flashed through her head. All the girls who threw themselves at him. Whitney. He was on the rebound…
Cowboy.
Because she could never have him was she settling for second best?
No.
She was falling for Liam Steele. Her heart had slowly opened up to him until she was tipping into love. She thought he might feel the same way. Why else would he tell her, and no one else, about what really happened with Whitney?
She wished he would let her vindicate him in print, but their conversation had been off the record, and therefore private. She paused at her front door to put the key in the lock. It swung open before she turned the knob. “That’s odd.”
Liam wrapped his arms around her middle and peered over her shoulder. “What?”
“My door’s open.”
“Maybe Cowboy came down here for something?” he suggested, nuzzling her ear. Clearly, his mind was on other things. He was making it hard to concentrate with his warm breath near her ear and his erection pressing against her rear.
“Maybe.” She doubted it. Cowboy’d never come here before. Why would he start now?
They stepped inside and everything appeared normal. On the surface, the room looked the same as that morning when she’d left. The curtains were open, the afghan she’d bought at a craft fair lay crumpled on the sofa. Her laptop, closed on the coffee table, just where she’d left it.
But her skin prickled and something told her to be alert. “I think someone’s in here,” she whispered.
Liam released her and moved to her side. “What makes you think so?”
“I don’t know, but my nerves are jumping.” She clenched her fists by her sides.
“I think you lived in New York too long, love. I don’t feel anything strange.” He moved to take her in his arms again and she sidestepped him.
“Maybe, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
“You want me to take a look around?”
“Yes, please.” She crossed her arms over her middle. “But be careful. You don’t want to startle a robber.”
He gave her an exasperated look. “Thanks.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Maybe I should call the sheriff.”
“No need for that. I’ll take a glance around, although I’m sure you just forgot to lock your door.” He headed for the stairs. “Back in a jiffy.”
“Be careful,” she told his retreating back. She walked toward the kitchen. “I need a glass of wine.”
A noise from upstairs spun her around halfway there. She covered her mouth with her hand. What was Liam doing, and to whom? Her pulse jumped into overdrive as adrenaline shot through her. Should she call the police? By the time they got here, he could be dead. That was ridiculous. Cowboy and Montana lived behind locked gates. They wouldn’t let just anyone in.
Undecided, she stood frozen.
CHAPTER NINE
Liam stared in complete disbelief.
Whitney lay on a white fur coat, nude as the day she was born, in a seductive pose that would’ve had his cock hard as a boulder six months ago. He shook his head to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom?”
“Hi, lover,” she purred.
He raked his gaze over her platinum curls, angelic blue eyes and the picture-perfect body he knew as well as his own. All he could think about was how much he preferred the redhead downstairs. “What do you want, Whitney?”
“I miss you,” she said. “I miss us.”
“There is no us.” A bitter taste filled his mouth. “Not anymore.”
“We could change that. Come, join me.” She patted the mattress next to her and licked her glossy lips.
“Not a chance in hell.” Liam looked over his shoulder. Thankfully, Kennedy hadn’t come after him…yet. He shuddered to think of what she’d do if she found the other woman in his bed.
Whitney crawled on her hands and knees toward him, every movement meant to seduce. “You sure about that?”
He stared at her without emotion. “Positive.”
She pouted like she had for a thousand magazine covers. “Liam.”
“Whitney.”
“What if I told you I’m sorry?” She sat on her knees and let her hands hand by her sides. Her nipples stood at attention, and he knew from experience her pussy would be wet and ready for him. He raked his gaze over her perfect body, and wasn’t remotely tempted.
“Too little, too late.” He stood firm in his resolve. They were over. He’d moved on. “Get dressed and leave.”
“You don’t mean that.” She stared at him as if he’d grown horns and hooves.
“I do,” he said. “When you chose to get rid of my baby, you destroyed any chance of us ever being together again.” His throat closed and tears formed in his eyes. He blinked them back and fought to speak. “Maybe you can live with the guilt, but I can’t live with myself.”
“I lied.”
He shook his head, not sure he heard correctly. “You what?”
She hung her head and her voice dropped to a whisper. “There never was a baby. I made up the whole pregnancy thing.”
Liam reeled back as though she’d punched him in the gut. “You put me through hell to anyone who would listen, and nearly destroyed not only my career, but me in the process? And now you say it’s all a lie? Goddamn it! Why?�
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“Because you deserved it.” Her pout intensified and she blinked away non-existent tears. She deserved an Emmy, or some acting award, for the show she was putting on.
“For what?” He clenched his fists as rage shook him. “Loving you? Wanting to be a da to our child? Do you know what you did to me? To my soul?”
“You wouldn’t quit your tour and marry me,” she said as though that justified everything she’d done.
He raked a hand through his hair and twisted away from her. He had to get away from her before he said something terrible, or strangled her. “Jesus, Whitney.”
“I’m sorry,” she said from behind him.
“We can agree on that.” He laughed grimly. Spinning to face her, he said, “You want to know the sad part? I really loved you. If you would have been content with things the way they were, we would have eventually gotten married. But I knew it wouldn’t work with your career and mine taking us in different directions all the time.”
“You can love me again. Let me show you.” She climbed off the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her gooey lips to his.
From behind him, he heard Kennedy speak. “I see you’re fine. I’m going to talk to Cowboy.”
Damn it! Untangling himself from the model, Liam moved away from her and pointed at the door. “We’re through. Leave and don’t come back.”
“Liam, baby—”
Ignoring her, he bolted down the stairs and to the door just in time to see Kennedy tear away in the off-road-vehicle. He sank onto the steps and put his head in his hands. His brain reeled with Whitney’s revelation that she’d made up the entire pregnancy. “Damn it all to hell.”
He needed to go after Kennedy, explain. But he didn’t want to have an audience when he told her what had just gone down. The scene with Whitney showed him just how hard he’d fallen for the reporter. She was genuine and kind-hearted. Most of all, she wouldn’t lie to him.
Whitney slammed the front door and stomped past him with her nose in the air. He ignored her theatrics. Whitney was his past; Kennedy was his future.
~*~
Kennedy blinked back tears although she had no reason to be crying. Liam had made no promises. It was on her own heart if she’d lost it to the rock star. She should’ve known he was still hung up on Whitney when he said he didn’t want to trash her in the press.