by Marie Carnay
“No. You’re hung up on these rejections and you’ve forgotten how gorgeous you are. Oooh. I know!” She clapped her hands and Rachel groaned. Whenever Melanie turned giddy, it meant trouble. “You should fake an illness. Get out of here and live it up.”
“I am not leaving you alone behind the bar.”
“I can handle it. It’s not that busy. Besides, the band is up soon. It’ll be a ghost town back here.”
“You’re nuts.”
“And you’re sex-starved. If you won’t find Frank, I will. You’re getting some tonight. End of discussion.”
Rachel blushed and bit her lip. Part of her wanted to run away and pretend her best friend didn’t exist, but Melanie had a point. It’d been a long time since she’d even kissed a guy. And sex? She wasn’t sure her lady bits remembered how. She turned back around, ready to agree, when the look on Melanie’s face made her pause. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Change of plans. You’re not leaving.”
“I’m not?”
“Nope. You’re staying here until those two drag you into the back and have their way with you.”
Rachel scrunched up her face and glanced at the front door. Oooh. Hello. All of a sudden her lady bits remembered what sex could feel like. In throbbing, graphic detail.
It wasn’t just one sexy man in a close-fitting suit, but two. Standing just inside the door, the neon outside lighting them up like Patrick Swayze in Ghost. Images of the three of them covered in clay and sweat and getting downright freaky flashed through her mind. Mmm. Too bad they were way out of her league.
Melanie clapped her friend on the back and nudged her toward them. “What are you waiting for? Get your sexy ass out there and hit on those two.”
Rachel blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. Get out there, take their order, and put your assets to work. Who knows, you might get lucky.”
“No! Look at them, Mel. I don’t have a chance.”
“You do too. Just lean over the table and recite the beer menu. By the time you’re done they’ll be lost in that canyon of cleavage.”
Rachel snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not hitting on two men. Especially not two who look like that. Are you crazy?”
“You always say you want to be more adventurous. What’s more adventurous than two men?”
“Even if by some miracle they were interested, I am not sleeping with two men at the same time. I can’t do that.”
“Why not? The one with the buzzed hair is super cute. Those dimples? That grin? Delicious.” Melanie pointed and Rachel braved another look. “And check out his friend—he’s got enough swagger for ten men. I bet women pass out when he runs his hand through his hair.”
Rachel rolled her eyes, but Melanie had a point. They were gorgeous. She watched as Mr. Swagger slipped into a booth in the back. He even made sitting down sexy. Her stomach flipped and she glanced up in time to catch the tall one shedding his jacket. Wow. Broad shoulders, trim waist. Muscles that flexed and pulled his dress shirt as he slid into the booth. Damn. They owned the whole bar without saying a word. “You should go. You’re way more their type.”
“No way.” Melanie wagged her finger in front of her face. “Tonight is all about you. Besides, I’m meeting Dave after work.”
Rachel shook her head. “I still don’t understand what you see in him.”
“Two words: magic tongue.”
Rachel smothered a laugh behind her hand and glanced back at their new customers. “You really think I can do this? Hit on both of them?”
“Of course. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“They turn me down.” Just like always.
“Right. So go bat those lashes, shimmy that ass, and get yourself a taste of L.A. You’ve been here too long to have not had some fun.”
Rachel bit her lip. There was no way two men like that would go for a woman like her. Not when they could have their pick of any blonde bombshell in Los Angeles. She took a deep breath. What’s one more rejection, right? She bent down and snuck through the bar before grabbing the drink menu.
“Rachel!”
Shit. She took a deep breath and turned around as her boss jogged over, greasy gray ponytail bobbing behind him. “Hi, Frank.”
He stopped in front of her and held up his hands. “Any chance you’re up for a last-minute gig?”
Her eyes went wide and she rocked back on her heels. What? “Why?”
“The band we scheduled is MIA. I don’t have a number to open the night.” He glanced at the stage and back at her. “I need you to take their place. You can do it, right?”
“You want me to be the opening act? You never want me to do a full set.”
“I do tonight.”
She swallowed. “I…I don’t even have my guitar.”
“Yeah, I know. But Aaron’s here. He can loan you one. Probably back you up if you want.”
Frank never put her up as an act. At most, she’d get a song here or a song there while some other band was throwing a few back at the bar. And now he was offering to let her open with one of the best guitar players around as back up. Aaron didn’t know her songs, but they could do a few covers and some of her easier work. They could wing it. “You’re sure?”
“I am. What do you say?”
All thoughts of the two hunks disappeared. She had a chance to perform. On stage. Tonight. She took a deep breath and gave her boss a nod. “Thanks, Frank. Give me ten minutes.”
“You’ve got five.”
2
“You were wrong.” Brooks leaned over and elbowed Alec in the arm.
“About what?”
“This place. It’s not a dive. It’s worse.” Brooks glanced around at the decades-old wood paneling and graffiti across the back wall. The cracked leather bench seats and stage lighting circa 1969. The lone bar and solo employee. He hadn’t been to a place like this in years. “How’d you even hear about it?”
Alec waved his beer around and shrugged. “Some kid in the art department. He chatted me up at the elevator one morning.”
“Ballsy.”
Alec smirked. “He didn’t know who I was. Kept saying the ‘big shots’ were missing top talent. That we’d gone soft because we’d outsourced A&R.”
“Ouch. You fire him on the spot?”
“No. I gave him a raise.” Alec tipped back the rest of his beer and waved the empty glass at the bar. Brooks couldn’t believe it. Ever since they’d cashed in at the IPO, Alec had been…larger than life. Buying a crazy place in Hollywood Hills, driving his Bentley to work every day, insisting on perfection. Listening to a guy fresh out of college knock him down a peg or two was new. And encouraging.
Brooks finished his beer as the bartender hustled over. She was cute enough—shoulder-length hair, bright eyes, straight teeth—but not his type. He preferred some meat to squeeze. Ass to hold. Tits he could smother in.
She set two beers down and gave them a grin. “Anything else I can get you boys?”
“I could do with a side of you. How ’bout you sit down and stay a while?”
The bartender licked her lip and looked Alec up and down. “Mmm. Tempting. But I’d hate to distract you from the music. You’ll want to see the opening act. She’s a stunner.” With another grin at them both, she grabbed their empty glasses and flounced away.
Brooks shook his head. “How is it you manage to pick up so many women, again?”
“My charm.” With a wink, Alec grabbed his fresh beer and took a swig. The cold beer flowed down his throat so fast it rippled.
It’d been at least a year since Brooks had been in a bar with his best friend. A year since they’d tipped it on back, got a buzz, found some willing woman to ride all night. He shifted in his seat as Alec rolled up his sleeves. His arm flexed and Brooks remembered. Alec wrapped around a stranger’s sexy waist, Brooks leaning over to lick her tits. Both of them losing themselves in the moment and in her. Over and over again.
As Alec relaxed and spread out in the booth, Brooks stood up. He had to stop thinking about the past. The passion. The heat. It never lasted longer than a night. “I’m gonna piss. Be back in a minute.”
“You better hurry or you’ll miss the first act.”
Brooks nodded and made his way to the back of the bar. Past groups of dudes milling about, gaggles of single women laughing and drinking. He used to be at home at a dive like this. Now it felt foreign. Dirty. He rounded the corner, lost in his thoughts, and—oomph! Breasts and hips and hands all collided into his body and he staggered back.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” A woman teetered in the hallway, arms out, mouth open. He knew he should apologize. Say something. Anything. But all he could do was stare.
With her dark eyes, lush lips and flushed cheeks, she was gorgeous. Radiant. But that body. Holy hell. Curvy, plump hips. Tits barely restrained beneath her dress. All woman. Mmm. He flashed a smile. “I should be the one apologizing. Are you alright?”
She nodded and her tongue darted out, pulling her lip into her mouth before she nibbled. Damn if she wasn’t the sexiest woman he’d seen in months. The way she chewed on her lip, working it back and forth with her teeth and tongue. Mmm. He could see her on her knees, mouth stuffed with his cock, taking him balls-deep right there in the hallway.
“My friend and I have a booth in the back. Come join us.”
Her eyes widened and she released her lip, letting the swollen flesh spring back into place. “I’d love to, but—” A guitar out front strummed and she cut herself off with a gasp. “I’m late! So late!” She eased past him, brushing her tits against his chest in her haste. “Sorry!”
He watched as she hustled down the hall—ass swaying beneath the fabric of her dress—up, down, side to side. Damn. The perfect woman and she’d run away before he could even get her name. Part of him wanted to run after her. Tear down the hallway and drag her into a back corner. But that was the old Brooks. The one who lived late nights and regrets. The new Brooks had come for the music. And Falcon. He couldn’t abandon that to chase a skirt. No matter how sexy. With a groan, he turned around and shuffled down the hall.
A few minutes later, he was sliding back into the booth, resigned to forget her and ready to focus on the music. And the beer. He grabbed his glass and gulped down swallow after swallow until Alec nudged him with his elbow. The last of the beer sloshed and he grimaced. “Hey—watch it.”
“Quit drinking and check out the stage. Those have to be the best pair of tits in West Hollywood.”
Brooks glanced up and almost dropped his glass. There she was—standing up on stage with that slinky summer dress and curves that wouldn’t quit—his hallway fantasy. She grabbed the mic and his dick twitched in response.
“She’s exactly what we want.” Alec’s voice cut through the haze and Brooks nodded.
For so many things. “You’re reading my mind.”
“I sure as hell hope she can sing.”
What were the chances? A random dive bar in West Hollywood and they find exactly the type of woman they want for Falcon. She turned around to speak to a man behind her and Brooks grinned. Her ass was made for someone like him. Damn.
The guy on stage strummed a chord on his guitar and the singer nodded. Apparently, he’d be backing her up. Nice. She turned back to the audience as the bar lights dimmed and the stage lights turned on. Here we go. The guitar player strummed again. Soft, quiet. He broke into a gentle melody Brooks couldn’t place.
“Is it a cover?” Alec’s voice hissed in the darkness.
“I don’t know. Just shut up and listen.”
As Brooks focused on the stage, the woman closed her eyes, smiled, and began to sing. Holy shit. Her voice rolled over him like smoke-stained velvet. Dark and cloudy. Lush and full. Her lips made love to the mic as her fingers draped around the metal shaft. Stroking. Caressing. Every note drawing magic out of thin air.
Pleasure, pain, raw emotion—it all poured out of her—drops of her life oozing into his ears with every rise and fall of her breath. Every chord on the guitar. She stained him with her sound. Turned him on with her look. Hooked him in a minute.
It wasn’t until she’d sung half the song that he even noticed the lyrics—he was too caught up in her sound.
“…You say you can see me, but I know it’s a lie…all you see is your money and a hole in the sky…I’ve given you everything and it’s not enough…I used to love you…but this is goodbye…” It all came out in a thick, sensual flow. Her voice and words blending with the guitar, seeping into his soul. He fell back in the booth and rubbed his face. They needed her.
He glanced over at Alec. The man was riveted. Eyes focused, body tense. Staring at her like she was the only source of oxygen in the room. Good. They were on the same page.
Leaning across the booth, he whispered to his partner. “She’s perfect.”
“I know.”
“You think she’s got a label?”
“I don’t care. Whatever she’s signed, we can break it. I want her.”
“For a contract?”
Alec turned and Brooks saw the same heat that pooled inside him reflected right back. “That’s a start.”
* * *
Rachel waved at the crowd and stepped off the stage. Butterflies didn’t begin to describe the tumult in her stomach. I did it. I really did it. She made her way into the back and snuck into an empty dressing room. No way was she hopping back out to tend bar. Not when her fingers still shook with energy and her whole body hummed. I sang a whole set on a stage in L.A. and didn’t get booed. I even heard a cheer. She closed her eyes and pushed a lock of damp hair off her forehead. Hot damn.
She’d sung at countless shows back home—opening up for every local band who would have her. But that was small time. This was Los Angeles. It might not have been the Troubadour, but the Vortex was something. A start. She’d been nervous as hell backstage, but as soon as the lights flicked on, she’d transformed. The smoke and the smells and the beat of her heart took her to that place where she wasn’t a woman struggling to catch a break. She was whole. Complete. And all music. She’d never get enough of that high.
“I thought new artists were supposed to stick around after a set. Drum up interest. Sell a few CDs out of their bags.”
Rachel blinked her eyes open and her mouth gaped right along with them. Mr. Swagger himself stood a few feet away, leaning on the wall of the dressing room like he’d done it a million times. Brown hair fell across his forehead. Day old stubble coated his jaw. And he trained his blue eyes on hers and refused to look away.
She picked her chin up off the floor and tried to melt into the wall. Damn plaster. It wouldn’t budge. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”
“And you’re not supposed to be so sexy.”
She scrunched her eyebrows and almost frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He broke eye contact to ogle her body, pausing on her breasts heaving beneath the tight fabric, moving down to her hips and back up. Everywhere he lingered, she burned. How could he do that with just a glance? She bit her lip and the edges of his mouth turned up in a smile.
“Don’t be modest.” He pushed his hair off his face and stepped forward, advancing until his hand palmed the wall beside her head. She could smell his aftershave—all spice and musk—and she wanted to reach out and grab him. Drag his lips down on hers and forget the bar. Her job. The music. Everything but the catch in her throat and the rhythm in her veins.
Men like him didn’t call her sexy. Shit, her ex never even said it. And he was a boy in comparison. A throb echoed deep inside her and she remembered how it felt—losing yourself in someone else’s body. Coming so hard you saw stars. She worked her lower lip back and forth with her teeth, pinching and pulling until it hurt. “Where’s your friend? Did he hate the show?”
The man smiled and part of her melted. Damn. “He had something to take care of. It’s just you and me for right n
ow.”
Rachel nodded to hide her disappointment. She should be thrilled to have one guy’s attention, but she hadn’t been able to shake the memory. Running smack into his friend’s hard, sculpted body. Stepping back in shock, only to be hit on instead of yelled at. If she hadn’t been late for the set…She shook her head. No use fantasizing about a guy who wasn’t there. Not when one just as sexy was inches away. Breathing her in. Staring her down. Turning her on.
“You disappointed?”
“Did I say that?”
“No.”
He reached out with his free hand and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. The brush of his fingertips across her cheek sent a shiver through her and Rachel swallowed.
“You didn’t say anything. Does that mean you’re not interested?”
She thought about Melanie and how she told her to have some fun. Live a little. The hell with being sensible. His pupils were so dilated the black almost eclipsed the blue. He wanted her. She could see it plain as day. The grin that spread across her face almost hurt. “It means I’d rather my lips were too busy to talk.”
Bingo. His nostrils flared and before she could breathe, he was there, sinking his lips into hers, scraping his stubble across her chin and cheek. Damn if he didn’t put his whole body into a kiss—crushing her back into the cracked plaster wall, pressing his chest against hers.
He snaked his tongue across her lips and she gave in. Opening up for him and all he wanted. All he could take. Their tongues danced and swirled around each other and Rachel lost herself in the feel of him. His body—all hard planks and rough edges—assertive and in command.
She moaned and he slid his hand lower, slipping down the slope of her neck, the bump of her shoulder, the swell of her breast. Oh, god. She wanted him inside her and she didn’t even know his name.
Reaching out, she dug her fingers into the crisp cotton of his shirt, searching for the taut muscles trapping her against the wall. Her fingers found waist—trim and strong, sculpted and sleek—and she moaned again. Oh, god. It’s been waaaay too long. All she could think about was his naked body on top of hers, pinning her down, taking control. Making her cry out in ecstasy. The hard planes of his muscles pressed against her fingers and as he leaned closer, his erection dug into her belly. As soon as she felt it, she mewled.