Two Worlds Collided

by Karen Michelle Nutt

  If she didn't know better...

  He couldn't smell her at all. So what game was he playing right now? She didn't really care. He wanted to play. Well, so could she.

  She smiled sweet and slow as she ran her hand over his chest, which the button-down shirt left bare. Then she realized what she was doing. Jesus, she was running her hand over his flesh. She blinked. Concentrate, concentrate. "If I go with you to your room, I'll give you the best sex you ever had." She held his gaze, even though her heart was rioting in her chest.

  For a moment his smile slipped and his brows rose high on his forehead. Heck, she was doing a little eyebrow raising herself too. Did his heartbeat just pick up speed? She rubbed her hand over his chest, pressing a little harder, but before she could decipher the answer, he clasped her wrists and raised her hands to his lips with a sweet caress. A chill ran down her spine and yet, she felt hot as if her blood had reached the boiling point.

  "Ah Darlin', I have the mind to take you up on your fine offer, but we both have an early day tomorrow." He leaned forward and she thought he was going to kiss her. She licked her lips and again he gave her that wicked smile, but instead, he pressed his mouth to her forehead. "Goodnight, Miss Book Marm."

  Then he was gone. It took her a few seconds to realize she was still standing in the hall and not in her room. "Jesus." She fumbled with the key and went inside before she melted into a puddle of mush.

  Bellamy had kissed her. Not a passionate you're-so-hot kind of kiss, but his lips had touched her flesh.

  She pushed away from her door and this time, she did snort. "Get a grip. He's just a man." And kissing and hugging were not about her mission here. She had less than three weeks to convince him he didn't want to end his life after the tour began, and he had nights alone in hotel rooms. Long hours where he could dwell on the past. Days where he only had a few hours of shuteye before he'd have to perform again. He would be exhausted, making it easy for depression to weigh him down.

  No more kissing, she firmly warned herself, even if it was only a peck on the forehead. The next weeks with him were crucial. She needed him to open up to her, to confide in her, and hopefully, she would be able to come up with some words of wisdom that he could carry with him when the shadows haunted him.

  Chapter Six

  Heaven Sent

  Bellamy leaned against the door of his hotel room and scrubbed his face with both hands. What the hell just happened out there? He turned his head to stare at his door as if it would produce the answers.

  He meant to have a little fun. Meant to loosen up Miss Book Marm and make her relax. Damn, she was a slave driver half the time. Kept him on his toes, made him show up on time to his interviews. Hell, he hadn't been on time – ever. He was two weeks late to his own birth, according to his mother. What did he expect? She took foreign language classes because she was bored. Normal people think: let's go have some fun. Get a drink, see a movie, or take a walk on the beach.

  He headed over to the refrigerator where he knew it was stocked with his favorite booze. He grabbed a bottle, opened it and took a swig. Miss Book Marm had done a number on him. It all started when she rushed to his aid when he'd fallen off the stage the other day. He couldn't miss the concern, the stark fear in her eyes. Jesus, it was intense. He almost believed he'd been in mortal danger.

  He liked how she took the time to make sure he truly was okay. Her nervous chatter kind of turned him on. He hadn't been lying when he said that to her.

  He took another long drink as he remembered the moment. It had been a long time since anyone really cared to ask him how he was. They avoided that question, 'How are you doing?' for fear he might tell them the truth. He felt like shit most of the time. Especially when he was beating himself up for his father's death. He took another swig from the bottle.

  Then she surprised him again tonight in the hall, just now.

  If I go with you to your room, I'll give you the best sex you ever had.

  Had she really said that to him? Miss prim and proper... Since she'd been assigned to him, he read her application just to find out who she was and where she came from. He knew she was a nurse at some old folks place, but he hadn't wanted her to realize, at the time of her administrations, that he'd taken the time to find out. It was why he'd told her he would wait for the nurse. Should have known she wouldn't back down. His lips curved. "Prim and proper and feisty. Interesting combo, Miss Reid."

  Didn't know she was Bryce's sister until then. "Miss Emerson Violet Reid," he murmured as he fell onto the bed. She smelled like... Hell, like lust, sex, and all woman rolled into one. "Yeah, mighty fine."

  He sat up with a start as he realized what he'd been thinking. He could smell her. He did smell her, hadn't he? Or had she just flummoxed him so much he believed he had? Would she taste as good too? He shook his head. Scents were lost to him. He stared at his beer bottle and took a swig and smacked his lips for good measure. Nothing. Zilch. He didn't taste a damn thing.

  He sprang from the bed and went over to the fridge in search of something else to try. He opened another bottle and another... He went for the chips and the candy... Nothing. Frustrated he swept his hand across the table sending everything he tried flying away and crashing against the far wall.

  "Fuck!" Of course, he hadn't regained his taste or sense of smell. "Fuckin' hell!"

  He needed something stronger. Something that would bring him to the edge, where tasting and smelling didn't matter.

  He strode over to the closet where he set up his suitcase on the foldout luggage rack. He dug through his bag where he kept his toiletries and lifted a zip-lock bag from the interior.

  Evie might have been playing when she read his palm, but she was right. He wanted peace and he craved happiness. Right now the white powder staring back at him was his slice of heaven, his escape from the pain and from the loneliness. He was so damn alone.

  Was he feeling sorry for himself right now? Hell, yes. He could only smell one woman on the entire planet and she was off limits. Emerson Violet Reid was good and wholesome despite her claims she'd bed him. He knew better. She was too good and he had no right soiling her good name.

  He lined the white powder in rows on the table and snorted his way to oblivion. Only his fantasies taunted him with images of Miss Book Marm next door, seductive images as she teased him, taking off her clothes one at a time, but before things really became interesting, she turned away, leaving him in the dark.

  Chapter Seven

  Elegantly Wasted

  In the morning, Evie dressed in black slacks and a loose fitting blouse. She wore a camisole underneath for extra coverage. She glanced in the mirror as she brushed her hair and pulled it back into a tight bun at the base of her neck. She reached for her glasses and nodded in approval. Professional looking and ready for work.

  The band had an early roll call. The limousine would be here in an hour to pick them up and drive them to the studio where they were to perform their new single live on the morning show. She was going to hitch a ride on the bus with Bryce and the other crewmembers.

  She called Bellamy's room for the second wake up call she knew he needed. He sounded groggy, but he said he was up. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand next to her bed. That had been over an hour ago. He should be dressed by now. She left her room to find out. She knocked on his door, but he didn't answer. "I should insist on a key," she murmured. So help me if he went back to sleep... "Bellamy?" she called to him. He still didn't answer, so she pounded on the door, becoming anxious that he didn't respond.

  Finally, she heard the click and the door opened. A bleary and red-eyed Bellamy peeked out his head. "What's up?" he slurred with an attempt at a smile.

  "Dammit, are you high?" She pushed her way into his room and he stumbled back against the wall. He was naked, stark naked from head to toe. Her eyes widened in shock and she forgot to look away for decency sake. It wasn't like she hadn't seen a naked man before. She was a nurse, but at the nursing home, t
he men there were way passed their prime and things were not so… well endowed. Made her realize she hadn't seen a man her age in quite a while.

  "Like what you're seeing?" Bellamy said as he tried to stand up straight.

  She harrumphed. "I'd like it a whole lot better if you were sober."

  She marched over to him and helped him toward the bed then decided against it, and swung him around, leading him to the armchair situated beside the dresser. She gave him a nudge and he fell into the chair. Better he stayed sitting than have him lie down and chance him passing out on her. He had to be awake, dressed and ready to go in – she glanced at the clock next to the bed – less than forty-five minutes.

  "What did you take?" she asked as she did her own investigation. The room was in utter disarray. What the hell happened from their chaste kiss in the hall to this morning? It was like he had a wild party going on in here. Open alcohol bottles on the floor, crushed chips and God knew what else was smashed into the carpet. On the table, she spotted the main source for his dilated pupils, most likely cocaine. She picked up the prescription bottle sitting next to the empty Vodka container. He was obviously coming down from his cocaine high or possibly the Prozac had kicked in – if he took any of the pills. She placed the bottle down and frowned at him.

  "Oh, don't look so glum, Miss Book Marm, I've been worse off. I feel pretty damn good right now."

  "I bet." She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "You need a shower. Now," she ordered and he saluted her, but he didn't move from his seat.

  He needed motivation, it would seem. So be it. Glancing around the room, she had an idea. She stormed over to the sliding glass doors that were hidden behind a thick curtain. She pulled them back and flooded the room with light.

  "Shee..et!" he drew out the curse. "Close the fuckin' drapes." He shielded his eyes with his arm.

  "Nope. You want to party all night when you know you have to be somewhere in the morning, you pay the price like a big boy." She marched over to him, took his arm and yanked him to his feet. "Into the shower. I mean it. Wash up pronto and get your ass out here. You have to be dressed and downstairs. The band will be waiting for you…yet again."

  "All right already," he grumbled as he stumbled into the bathroom. He turned to look at her and his mouth opened, but she knew by his smirk that he was about to say something that was surely going to piss her off. She reached for the doorknob and shut the door in his face.

  "You're no fun," he shouted to her from behind the closed door. But in a few seconds, she heard the shower running.

  She started a pot of coffee, then headed for the closet to retrieve the outfit that Wardrobe had sent over yesterday, with instructions that this was what he was supposed to wear to the Entertainment At Its Best shoot scheduled for this morning. She opened the dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers and added it to the attire she put on the bed. "Shoes, he needs his shoes," she said to herself as she returned to the closet. She didn't find any there. She searched the room, wondering where he could have put them. Doesn't he have more than one pair? She went over to the unmade bed with the blankets half off the bed, as if he had wild sex last night. She might have believed he had if she didn't know better. Leaning down, she peered under the bed in search of the shoes. The door to the bathroom opened behind her.

  "Nice view," Bellamy whistled.

  She came to her feet and ignored his words. "Where are your shoes?"

  He didn't quite meet her eyes as he headed over to the bed where she laid out his clothes for him. "Um…they might be in the shrubbery."

  She looked around the room expecting to see a plant or something where he would have put them. When she didn't spot any, she glanced at him again for an explanation.

  "The balcony…" he said. "I remember throwing them over in an attempt to hit the pool below."

  "You've got to be kidding." She headed over to the sliding glass door and stepped outside. She found a boot on the patio table, but she didn't spot the matching pair anywhere. She then glanced over the high railing. "I don't even see a pool," she yelled back to him.

  "No? Funny, I swear there was one last night."

  She stormed back inside and slammed the sliding glass door closed again. He was dressed at least. The white stripe pants with stars sat on his lean hips. He was attempting to loop his belt in the belt holes as she took in the rest of him. The black shirt was just sheer enough that she could see his chest, but the material still left enough hidden for the imagination. Though now, she'd seen every bit of him, from head to toe and everything in between. That glorious vision wouldn't leave her any time soon.

  His hair was already drying into soft curls, framing his handsome face. How could he have such luck? Her hair would have been sticking out all over the place and he hadn't done a dang thing to make it look so...perfect.

  He met her gaze once he finished with his belt and held out his arms at his side. "Well? What do you think?" He grinned.

  She shook her head. "I'd tell you, you look great, but then it would go to your head." She poured him a cup of black coffee and handed it to him. "Drink," she ordered and he saluted her, but he took the cup she handed him and indulged.

  She glanced at his bare feet with a frown. There was nothing she could do about it. He had one boot and that was it, and there was no time to call wardrobe. She nabbed the cup from his hands and placed it on the table. "Let's go." He didn't even seem to care he was barefooted.

  On their ride down in the elevator, he donned his sunglasses. No doubt the lights were bothering his eyes. Served him right. The elevator doors opened and they headed toward Leon who was pacing and checking his watch. When he spotted them, he sighed in relief until his gaze landed on Bellamy's feet.

  "Where's his shoes?" he asked as he followed them outside to the limo that was waiting at the curb. The other band members were already inside.

  "Gone," she said. "Ask him." She gestured toward Bellamy.

  "Shoes are overrated," he said as he crawled into the limo next to Maury.

  Leon met her gaze and she shrugged. "He's here. Somewhat sober and…" she glanced at her watch. "Only ten minutes late."

  "We'll see you at the studio," Leon grumbled and slid into the limo next to Bellamy.

  "Hey, Book Marm," Bellamy called to her, "wanna ride with us over there?"

  She leaned on the door as she peered inside the limo. "Don't think there's room," she told him.

  "I don't mind if you sit on my lap." There was that grin again, charming and irritating all in one.

  "I appreciate the invitation, but I'll have to decline this time."

  His shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Suit yourself."

  She rolled her eyes as she closed the door, but not before she saw Leon nudge Bellamy in the ribs.

  "Ouch, what was that for?"

  She couldn't help but chuckle. She turned and spotted Bryce standing by the bus and waving for her to hurry.

  They arrived at the studio where the band was rushed over to the side stage they had set up for the performance. Bryce, with his camera in his hand, staked out his position to manage the shots he needed for the band's promotional use. The band's producer had made the arrangements beforehand with the studio, so Bryce would have full access.

  Evie stood to the side of the stage, which proved a good place to see the performance and still stay clear of the cameramen. When the spotlight was on the band, Bellamy switched gears and became the sexy heartthrob people expected to see on stage, barefooted and all. Didn't seem to hamper his moves as he rocked those hips evocatively. Then he lifted his arms overhead, closed his eyes and did a slow sway of that long, and hard, and muscular body that spoke of heat and undeclared promises. Despite the man emotionally being an effed up mess, he possessed charisma when he performed.

  "Meet me tonight," Bellamy's sultry voice, seductive and maddeningly sexy never faltered. "I'll give you what you want. What you need." He glanced her way as that particular line formulated on his tongue, his hip
s gyrating suggestively as he moved closer to where she stood, just inches from where she hid behind the curtain. Her glance drifted over his firm chest, his hips moving in a way that made her pulse speed up a notch, down to his shoeless feet, and she knew she was in trouble. Then she met the dark heat in his eyes once more and the force of it sent liquid fire coursing through her body. "Holy…" she gasped and he winked before he abruptly turned and danced his way toward the center of the stage.

  Her muscles tightened and her heart seemed to lodge in her throat. Get a grip, she told herself. They hadn't even had sex, but his seduction had given her a small glimpse at what it would be like to go to bed with him– raw and primitive and with a beat of forbidden desire.

  He could do that. Make love to the audience, making them feel as if he were singing to them and only them. Apparently, she wasn't immune to his charm, despite the fact she pledged to keep her emotions in check. She'd been swept away by his enchantment. He meant nothing by his flirtations other than to fluster her, and damn him, he had rattled her. She wiped the perspiration from her brow and licked her lips.