by Eden Summers
“Do you mind?” Sean gestured for Tina's glass.
She frowned and handed over the champagne flute, not bothering to watch what he was doing as she turned her scathing stare to her brother. Score. He chugged the remaining half of the contents in one gulp, enjoying the sweet tingle on his tongue before he swallowed. Bliss. All he needed was another fifteen or so and he might be able to withstand the remainder of the party.
Tina scowled as he returned the empty glass to her hand. “What the hell, Sean?”
Normally, he would’ve apologized, but the melodic sound of Sidney’s chuckle took over his mind, threatening to make his ears bleed.
“You don’t know where I can get some more, do you?” he muttered, wishing he could punch Cupid in the balls. The cherub fucker had some explaining to do. And where, oh where, was that waitress? “There.” His eyes widened in relief at the brunette with the full tray heading for the open side panel of the marquee. The instinct to crash-tackle her to the ground should’ve scared him. Really, it should’ve.
“You found the choreographer?” Mason asked.
“No.” Sean shook his head and stalked toward his prize. “A waitress. I—” really, really, really, “—need another drink.”
He left them to their conversation, his gaze never leaving the sparkling glasses of champagne on the tray ahead. He needed something to fill the hollow ache in his chest. To dull the girlie feelings taking over him.
“Don’t kill my fun,” Mason called out. “We need to meet your aesthetically challenged dancer. Make sure you find us once you’re done.”
Yeah. Whatever. He raised his hand and gave a salute in acknowledgement. He’d meet whoever the hell they wanted him to, but first, alcohol.
Melody Jenkins tried to blend into the crowd by lowering her gaze, making sure her footsteps didn’t waver as she followed Leah, the Reckless Beat band manager. The surrounding group of strangers and world-famous celebrities were aglow in the shimmering lights. The men were dapper in collared shirts, some with ties, and all with a drink in their hand. The women were equally admirable in their skimpy attire, cleavage showing, and ruby-red lips. It was a scene she’d lived most of her life. Unfortunately, until recently, she’d never needed to know how to fade into her surroundings.
“They’re over there.” Leah paused and pointed a finger to the far corner of the second marquee they’d walked through. “Mason is the one on the end with his arm around the dark-haired woman. That’s Sidney, his fiancée.”
Melody nodded. Growing up in Richmond, it was hard not to be familiar with Mason Lynch. He was the musical golden child of Virginia. The radio stations were known to play Reckless Beat tracks back to back, and his wavy blond hair and sexy face were plastered over billboards for all the city to see. It was the other band members she wasn’t entirely familiar with.
“Beside Sidney is Mitch and his wife, Alana. Ryan is the one scowling. Then there’s Blake and his wife, Gabi.”
One flawless group of picture perfect people. Melody had already been there, done that. Maybe not on such a world famous scale. Previously, she’d been the person everyone skimmed the crowd to see. Now, not so much.
“But…I can’t find Sean.” Leah pushed onto the tips of her toes. “Where is he?” She leaned to the left, then the right. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“What?” Melody tilted her head to see around the people blocking her view. As the guests parted, exposing the group of musicians before her, she noticed another man. On the floor. His head was slumped forward, eyes closed, while he rested against the legs of Ryan, or maybe it was Blake. She’d forgotten their names already.
“Sean,” Leah growled, stabbing her finger in the man’s direction, “is the one passed out on the floor.”
Melody couldn’t see his face, not through the forest of legs. All she could glimpse was dark, buzz-cut hair, a bulky frame and a cream collared shirt.
“Obviously, this isn’t the best time for you to meet your future dance student.” Leah stormed ahead. “I swear they do this to piss me off.”
Melody thought it was strange for a band manager to expect anything less from a group of A-list rockers. She knew what it was like on tour with her dance crew. Even worse, she knew what it was like to perform with musicians like Reckless Beat. Apart from the time on stage, the living hours were generally filled with the clichéd sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Oh, and booze. There was a lot of booze.
“I can hold my own.” She spoke over the diluted sound of the band in the first marquee, and the chipper chatter of tipsy guests. “I’ll hang around for a quick introduction.” The sooner she got this over with, the better. These people were giving her hives, and the unfamiliar discomfort of her new introverted lifestyle wasn’t sitting well.
“No.” Leah scowled over her shoulder. “You can’t go. The plan was for you to get a feel for the band. Especially the passed out dickwad on the floor. I wanted you to see them in celebration mode and understand what Fighting Against Attraction is all about.”
The celebratory part was clear. The women in the group were smiling—well, maybe not Mason’s fiancée. She had concern etched in the tightness of her brow as she peered down at the man on the floor. Everyone else was bright and bubbly with the unmistakable radiance of intoxication.
Leah nudged her way into the group, coming to stand before the guy taking a snooze. Instantly, the atmosphere changed. The guys in the small circle inched back, falling silent while the women nuzzled closer to their partners.
“Could someone please explain—” Leah drawled with a saccharin tone, “—why Sean is taking a nap with a tray of empty champagne flutes on his lap?”
Melody paused a few feet away, tilting her chin to see the man more clearly. Leah wasn’t joking about the tray. The shiny silver was sitting high on the man’s thighs. At least four glasses rested on their sides, while another three stood tall and full, every so often jolting against one another with the man’s movements.
“Because none of us had the heart to take it off him,” a man with dark, spiky hair answered. His white dress shirt was folded at the sleeves, exposing forearms covered in ink.
“Well, maybe you should’ve.” Leah lowered to her knees in front of Sean and cupped his cheek.
“No offense, Leah.” This came from the man behind Sean, the one with a close-cropped beard and boyish features partially hidden behind chin-length brown hair. “But take a look at where we are, and what we’re celebrating. None of us was willing to deny him the right to drown his sorrows. He’s done well to get this far.”
Silence reigned. All their reactions were the same, just varying degrees of discomfort. Something was going on, and overhearing the private conversation was more awkward than her last pap smear.
“I’ll get him some water,” Melody murmured, uncertain and unfazed if anyone heard her.
She took her time strolling for the water dispenser on the table at the end of the marquee, glancing over her shoulder every so often to witness the stiffened postures of the group slightly relax. When she returned to their circle with a full glass, the awkwardness had dissipated. They were smiling now, moving on from whatever issues haunted the guy still on the floor.
“Mel?”
She glanced around at the sound of Tina’s voice. The familiar face approached from the far side of the group, dragging everyone’s attention along for the ride with painful potency.
“Nice to see you, Tina.” Melody smiled at the woman who’d become an advocate for her dance studio. Mason’s sister attended her adult hip-hop classes and was the only reason Melody had scored the gig with Reckless Beat to begin with.
The group parted, the tattooed man and another band member stepping back to welcome her into the inner sanctum. She smiled somewhat uncomfortably under their scrutiny, and lowered her focus to Leah still resting on her knees.
Ignoring the weight of the group’s attention focused on her, she studied the man on the floor. He wasn’t classically hand
some with his wide jaw covered in a light dusting of dark stubble, full lips, and the slight bump at the bridge of his nose, still, he captured her interest all the same. His large frame and wide shoulders were enough to dwarf Leah, let alone Melody’s smaller stature, and the thin material of his expensive shirt clung tight to the bulk of his arms.
His smile and eyes would either make or break him. She wasn’t sure which. All she knew was that he currently looked like a half-dead thug resting against the legs of another man. There was no warmth to his features, nothing inviting or gentle about him whatsoever. He was somewhat scary, and she wasn’t sure if her quickening heartbeat was from apprehension or anticipation.
Melody was used to pretty boys. There weren’t many thuggish types in the dancing industry. She’d always been surrounded with the clean-shaven ones with perfect hair, teeth, clothes—everything. This man was intimidating, even on the floor, with his eyes closed and the soft grumble of a drunken snore leaving his throat.
“Come on, Sean. Wake up.” Leah lightly patted his cheek. “You’re making a shitty first impression on your dance instructor.”
The guy groaned and scrunched his face. Then nothing. For a moment, they all stood in silence, waiting. His head lolled to the side, his eyelids still closed as the glasses on his lap began to clatter.
“Shit. Can someone please take this?” Leah lifted the tray, and a pretty blonde in a shiny black dress took it from her.
“I’ve got some water if that helps.” Melody stepped forward, coming side to side with two very attractive men, and held out the glass.
“Thanks.” Leah took the offering with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry about this.”
“The big guy likes to talk the talk,” the man with the tattoos beside her said with a grin. “But when it comes to drinkin’, he’s a bit of a pansy ass.” He held out his hand to shake. “I’m Blake.”
Wow. He had the dreamy bad-boy ink with the face of a cover model. She lowered her gaze, unable to look him in the eye as she took his offering, placing her palm gently in his. “Melody.”
“And this is my wife, Gabi.”
Melody glided her hand from his loose hold and gave a brief smile at the woman with the tray.
“Hi, Melody. Pleased to meet you.”
“Please, call me Mel.”
One by one, she met the group, vowing to remember every name this time. They seemed genuine, welcoming her with warm smiles devoid of spite. It was a refreshing break from the memories she had dealing with women on tour. No matter how close you became during rehearsals, as soon as your positions were assigned on stage, the dancers with the most spotlight were shunned due to jealousy. Without fail, Melody had been front and center every time.
These women seemed different. Gentle and caring. Except one. Leah sure packed a punch.
“Come on, Sean. Wake the fuck up.” Mason raised his voice, stepping up to Sean’s feet and lightly kicking his boot. “There’s a pretty lady here to meet you.”
“Mason,” Tina hissed and gave a warning glare to her brother.
“What?” He grabbed the glass from Leah’s hand. “Sprinkling water on his face isn’t going to do shit. You need to be more forceful. Like this…”
“Mason—” more than one female shouted. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop the momentum of the liquid leaving the glass to slap against Sean’s head.
“Thanks, asshole.” Ryan wiped the water from around his crotch as Sean jolted forward, swatting at his cheeks. “I look like I’ve pissed myself.”
“It wouldn’t be a Reckless party without a bathroom incident,” Mitch drawled.
The men started to talk smack as Melody kept her focus on Sean. The top of his shirt was wet, sticking to his skin in patches and outlining defined muscles underneath. Suddenly, with only a little water, there was a whole lot of positives happening for this guy. Yet, she still needed to see those eyes, to glimpse his smile, and get a feel for who he truly was.
“Can someone please get him another glass of water?” Leah peered up at the crowd. “Maybe one he could actually drink this time.”
“I’ll go.” Melody stepped back and paused when a large hand pressed against the small of her back.
“I’ll get it.” Mitch strode around her, not giving her time to voice a fake protest.
She didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Her chest began to thrum in anticipation, and her fingers itched to wipe away the beads of moisture in the stubble above Sean’s top lip. A second later, he scrubbed them away, covering his face with both palms and vigorously rubbing. When his hands fell, her breath caught.
Blue. Ocean blue irises, deep and soulful.
Wow.
All the intense features she’d been intimidated by lost their harsh edge, all because of those hypnotizing depths. He winced as he glanced at Leah, and then raised his gaze to the crowd. He took in the circle of friends surrounding him, blinking the focus back into his eyes until he reached Melody.
His brow furrowed as he scrutinized her, raking his attention ever so slowly from her face, over her cleavage, down her black trousers to the tips of her ruby-red heels, not leaving an inch of her body unaccounted for.
“Damn,” he released the word on a breath, making her cheeks heat.
His friends chuckled, and the women joined in on the laughter—well, two of them anyway. Leah didn’t seem to find the humor in the situation, and neither did Mason’s fiancée.
“That’s Melody, your choreographer.” Leah pushed to her feet and straightened her thigh-length dress.
Mason stepped forward, holding out a hand to help Sean to his feet. “I guess we were wrong about her, weren’t we, bro?”
“Mason,” Tina scolded.
The hope to hide her apprehensive confusion faded as the heat in her cheeks turned volcanic. Being a redhead, with the typical Casper skin tone, meant it was impossible to hide a blush. Even worse was the way it blended, the warmth expanding down her neck as she tried to control her breathing.
Had they anticipated someone more glamorous? Or confident? Maybe it was her puny five foot frame. Or something different entirely, like a comment one of her previous employers had made. Christ, it could be anything.
Sean swayed briefly on his feet before coming to stand in front of her. He towered above her, all broad and domineering. If only she’d known he was so large, she would’ve worn her three inch heels to compensate for at least one majorly varying degree between them.
He continued to stare at her, the potency of his perusal changing from confusion to something softer. Appreciation, maybe? She didn’t know. All she could focus on were those eyes and the enthralling way they took away her trepidation.
He opened his mouth, giving her a glimpse of flawless teeth, then frowned and pursed his lips shut. Not good. His features were a mask of contemplation. Not a comforting sign. Highly intoxicated males and deep thinking didn’t usually mix.
His lips parted again, and this time she held her breath, waiting, as he said, “Are you a pixie?”
Sean had fought hard to open his eyes, and now that they were, his attention was completely transfixed with the redhead in front of him. She was a miniature goddess in tight black pants and a pale green lace bodice, with the barest hint of curves to steal his attention.
Her clothes were laid back, yet gorgeous as hell. She rocked his intoxicated foundation with her wide eyes and flushed pink cheeks. He really should apologize for embarrassing her, but the words wouldn’t form. She did look like a pixie—small, sweet, and innocent. He was spellbound. He’d never seen lips so lush or skin so creamy. Even entranced, he refused to ponder the possibility of her being a drunken hallucination.
He held out his hand, waiting, bated breath and all that shit, until the surprise left her features. In a blink, she changed from shock and awe to haughty and tough. The transformation was like a mental orgasm. She gave a wicked smile, those dark-brown eyes narrowing to consume him, dick first.
“No, sorry. I’m not a p
ixie.” Her syrupy tone was cute. A wanted distraction from the repeat sound of Sidney’s voice in his head. “I’m Melody, but call me Mel.”
Her hand clasped his, her skin smoother than silk, yet her grip was firm and strong. Fuck, he was drunk. Beer goggles or not, this woman was tempting as hell. For forty-five seconds, his mind had been completely devoid of the dreaded upcoming wedding. He hadn’t had the ache consuming his chest or the nausea in his gut over his career. This woman had given him a much needed respite from his sorrow, and he was going to grasp on tight to the sensation, riding the wave as long as possible.
“You’re so tiny.” He wasn’t slurring, per se, neither could he hide the fact he was completely shitfaced. He ignored Mason’s snort and concentrated on the way her mouth twitched with contained mirth. Damn, she was hot. Toned, tight, stacked—slightly. Her top exposed enough cleavage to show she had a small, firm rack to match her equally small, firm body. He was sure he could fit his hands around her slim waist. Her stature was probably a prerequisite of her career choice.
“OK, OK,” Leah interrupted, separating their hands. “You need to sober up before you say something even I can’t forgive.” She linked her arm around his elbow and tugged him in the opposite direction. “Time to chug some water, my friend.”
His feet moved without his consent, stumbling away from the pretty pixie. “Leah, please.” He tried to turn, and she yanked him harder, practically dragging him forward. “I need to get back there.”
His band manager stopped at his side and turned to face him. The pity in her eyes brought back the pain he was trying to forget. “You need to sober up before you insult her with something she can’t laugh off.”
“Please, Leah.” He hung his head. He needed the buzz of intoxication to continue. The alcohol was the only thing keeping the tentative smile on his face. Once that was gone, he wouldn’t be able to pick himself up off the floor. “I need this.”
“I know you need something to occupy your mind right now.” She wrapped her hand around his forearm and squeezed until he looked her in the eye. “But Mel hasn’t done anything wrong. She doesn’t deserved to be laughed at—”