Lead Me On

by Lexxie Couper

  Lily narrowed her eyes.

  “C’mon, what do you have to lose?” His grin grew devilish. “Apart from me?”

  Lily’s lips twitched. She licked them, determined to hide the unexpected smile. Letting out a huff, she followed him in and plucked her gloves from his fingers.

  He chuckled, playful delight dancing in his eyes. “Martin,” he said, turning his head in the direction of the manager even as he continued to watch her. “Can you tell my bodyguard to wait here for us, please? You won’t be able to miss him, he’s quite distinct.”

  Lily snorted. “You can say that again.”

  Samuel grinned at her. “Ready? If you get scared, just grab on to me.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him again. “See you on the other side, Gibson.”

  And before he could utter another word, she strode passed him into the maze.

  If God had any sense of humor, she’d lose him within the minute.

  Chapter Four

  “That was fun.” Samuel rubbed at the lump on his forehead, his lunch cooling on its plate in front of him. “Coulda done without the bump on the head though.”

  He looked at Lily where she sat on the other side of the small table and waited for her next caustic comment.

  She was studying her salad, picking over the crisp green lettuce leaves with her fork. “Shouldn’t have run into the mirror then.”

  He chuckled. “Now you tell me.”

  She flicked him a quick look, and his chest squeezed tight at the hint of a smile he saw playing with the corners of her lips.

  They’d escaped the mirror maze thirty minutes previously, Samuel beating Lily out by barely a minute. He knew there wasn’t a hope in hell of her admitting it, but she’d enjoyed herself. Being surrounded by mirrors had made it impossible to hide anything, and more than once he’d spied a smile on her face. Of course, every time her gaze found his, she’d done her best to hide it. It didn’t matter. He’d see it there, and his heart would quicken.

  They’d gotten lost more than once. At one point, they’d been so turned around so many times by the deceptive reflections that they’d run smack-dab into each other.

  He’d burst out laughing, grabbing at her upper arms to steady her, and for a split moment, she’d forgotten how anti-rock star she was. Her palms had come to rest on his chest, her fingers splayed just above his heart, and she’d turned her face up to his, her lips curling with joyous mirth.

  And then she’d remembered her distaste for him and hurried out of his grip, muttering something about him cheating, her gaze everywhere but on him.

  Damn, she was a hard nut to crack.

  Now they sat at the Fog Harbor Fish House restaurant, overlooking the wharf and its famous sea lions, Brutal scowling at the other diners from a nearby table. Samuel noticed most were surreptitiously snapping photos of him and Lily with their smart phones, doing their best not to draw the attention of the tattooed bodyguard. In today’s technological day it seemed everyone was a member of the paparazzi.

  He wondered how long it would take before the images found their way into gossip mags and onto gossip blogs and websites. What would they say? “Guitarist Samuel Gibson Dines With Unknown Woman In San Francisco”? “Guitar Legend Eats With Mysterious Female”?

  A part of him wanted to ask the closest diner/paparazzo/tourist if he could take a look at the photos they were snapping. He suspected he’d see something in his own eyes he hadn’t found for a long time. Delight. Because as prickly and guarded as Lily Pearce was, he truly was enjoying being in her company. She was quick witted and had no qualms on calling him out on his ego.

  It made for a very refreshing change. Especially when compared to the kind of women he’d spent most of the last—fuck—twenty-five years of his life indulging in.

  “So,” he said, sawing into his pepper-sauce-coated steak, “what’s next?”

  She raised her head and frowned at him. “Do you really want to spend the next few days in my company? Doing touristy things?”

  He nodded.

  She pulled a face. “You really think you’re going to make me change my mind about you? And the lifestyle you live? The one currently killing my brother?”

  Samuel drew a slow breath. “I think you’re being too prejudiced.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Prejudiced?”

  He nodded. Again.

  “From the first night Gene performed with Zombie Grill, the rock-and-roll lifestyle has been devouring him.” She stabbed a cherry tomato with the tines of her fork, glared at it and then raised that glare to him. “Do you know how hard that is to watch?”

  “Is that rock and roll’s fault? Or your brother’s?”

  Pain crossed her face. She returned her focus to the impaled tomato.

  “Does it help, Lily, if I say the lifestyle won’t kill you? If you’re strong enough?”

  She didn’t move.

  “What if I tell you the guys and I are all too old to party now?”

  She snorted. “Two months ago you and Jax shared a groupie in New York.” She lifted her stare to his face, her green eyes steady. “I learnt that on Google last night. I take it you’ve aged considerably since then, right?”

  Hot guilt wrapped Samuel’s chest. She had him on that one. “Okay, but none of us in the band have gotten drunk or wasted on drugs for years. Decades, in fact. Nick never got into the drug scene, neither did Levi or Noah. Jax and I fooled around with it for a while, I’ll admit that, but the day we signed the contract for Nick’s second album I swore off it. So if you’re worried about us leading Eugene astray on that front, I promise, we won’t. Hell, Levi’s damn near a homebody now, and he’s one legal step away from being a happily married man. Noah is so damn in love with his partner, Pepper, who also happens to be our manager by the way, I think he’s living on love alone, and Jax, the fool of us all, is too smart to get wasted. The sex, the women…” He let out another breath. “I can’t tell you the women aren’t going to throw themselves at your brother, because they probably will, especially given he’s a good-looking guy under all that greasy hair.”

  “Is that meant to make me feel better?”

  “It’s meant to help you see the way it is. Rock doesn’t eat us all up, Lily. If Eugene were a professional athlete, he’d probably be facing a similar situation, just with a different uniform. Have you heard what some of these pro-footballers get up to after they win a match? Christ, Nick Blackthorne’s son is a professional soccer player for Sydney and Nick is constantly stressed about the after-game activities. Josh is a good-looking twenty-one-year-old with a famous father, but the women throw themselves at him because he’s a pro sportsman with a truckload of endorsement deals. And trust me, I’ve personally seen that British soccer guy, the one with the phenomenal left foot, in action after his team wins, and a choirboy he’s not. If it’s in your brother to party, he’ll party, no matter what the surrounding influence.”

  It was Lily’s turn to sigh, offering him a view of her profile as she studied the water beyond the window.

  Behind her, a single flash fired.

  Samuel heard Brutal mutter something but he didn’t tear his stare from Lily. He wanted her to look at him. Wanted her to see the earnest truth in his face. His parents had dismissed his career choice for similar reasons. It wasn’t acceptable to be a musician, especially a rock musician. His father still hadn’t been to a single concert Samuel played in. His mum and dad had drawn conclusions about the rock-music world based on hearsay, conjecture and media sensationalism and refused to change their minds.

  Surely Lily wasn’t going to be so stubborn?

  “Give us a chance, Lily,” he said, tracing her profile with his gaze. “Please?”

  She swung back to face him, her expression unreadable. “Us?”

  Samuel forced a cheeky grin to his lips. “Us aging rockers.”

  A soft snort escaped her. He smiled, his heart beating fast. He understood why she was confused by the personal pronoun. He wasn’t
entirely sure what us he meant either.

  Yes, you are. You meant you and Lily. ’Cause you like her. And you want her to like you.

  She studied him, a frown pulling at her eyebrows.

  He waited. Silent.

  “Have you ever been to Ripley’s Believe It Or Not?”

  He shook his head, doing his best to keep his elation from his face.

  She returned her attention to her salad, adding a chunk of goat’s cheese to the tomato stabbed on her fork’s tines. “I’ve heard there’s a really good night-time tour. Perhaps we should check it out?”

  Samuel couldn’t stop the elation flowing through him, nor keep the smile from his face. “Perhaps we should.”

  They spent the rest of the meal talking about inconsequential things. Neutral but interesting things like their favourite movies—Lily shook her head when Samuel insisted his favourite was Jaws—their thoughts on cloning, the search for the God particle, and the best Stephen King book—Samuel couldn’t fathom how Lily thought Pet Semetary was scarier than It. They had a long discussion on who was the best movie president of the United States, finally agreeing Harrison Ford in Air Force One was the first pick with Samuel’s second choice—Bill Pullman—being Lily’s third behind Morgan Freeman.

  By the time dessert was served, Samuel knew he was in trouble. Big trouble. The way he was going, he’d be in love with her by the end of the day.

  If he truly was successful in making her laugh, he’d be a goner.

  Completely.

  She was nothing like his normal type, and under the prickly, cool exterior, he kept catching glimpses of a funny, insightful, passionate woman.

  There’s that word again, Sam. Passionate.

  “Tell me.” Lily’s soft voice dragged him from his contemplative confusion. “Do you ever get sick of the attention?”

  “The attention?”

  She flicked a glance at the people watching them from the other tables in the restaurant. Most were still taking photos with their phones. Some dropped the devices onto their laps when Samuel looked at them.

  He chuckled, sliding his hands across the table to snare hers in a playful grip. “Should we give them something to get excited about?”

  She stiffened, a barely audible gasp escaping her. And then she rolled her eyes and disengaged her hands from his, a very small smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe not this time,” she murmured.

  This time? he wanted to ask. Instead, he took her lead and played it cool. “I must admit,” he said with a shrug, scooping a spoonful of vanilla ice cream from the plate in front of him, “I tend to tune it out more often than not. And Brutal will make sure no one around me takes a photo without permission.”

  Lily shot his bodyguard—scowling at everyone from his table a few feet away—a curious frown. “Why isn’t he now?”

  “I told him not to. Before we picked you up, I told him I wanted to be as close to a normal guy as possible today.”

  A miracle happened. Right there and then, in amongst the lunchtime diners and tourists, with the sweeping views of San Francisco Bay outside the window and the sea lions making a racket on the wharf below, a miracle happened. And Samuel lost any hope of recovery. Lily laughed.

  She threw back her head and laughed, the rich sound rising above the noise of the world, flooding Samuel with warmth he’d never ever experienced before. There was nothing malicious in that laugh, nothing cruel or nasty. It was the sound of pure humor and joyful mirth, and he loved it. Loved it.

  He stared at her, his breath caught in his throat, his heart beating fast.

  “Oh lordy, Samuel,” she said, returning her gaze to his face. Her eyes sparkled. Tiny laugh lines crinkled their edges. Her lips were stretched in a wide smile, showing Samuel teeth white and even. “You could never be a normal guy.”

  He narrowed his eyes, not sure how to respond.

  She chuckled again, her smile open. “I’m not insulting you, honest. I just can’t picture you doing anything…normal. You seem to exist only in black leather, you have people taking your photo everywhere you go, you have a bodyguard who looks like he should be in some alternate dimension gladiator movie, you have tourist attractions opened just for you, and, on top of all that, you are far too good looking to ever be…”

  She stopped. Mid-sentence.

  A dawning horror seemed to flow over her face. Her eyes grew wide and she slapped a palm to her lips.

  Samuel stared at her, her statement hanging between them. “You think I’m good looking?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Excuse me, are you Mr. Gibson?”

  The shy question uttered in a squeaky, hesitant voice made Lily jump. Samuel blinked, jerking his head towards the speaker.

  A young boy stood at the side of their table, gazing up at Samuel from beneath a shock of orange hair.

  Behind him, a woman with strawberry-blonde hair hurried towards them, dismay and embarrassment etched on her face. She rushed past Brutal, only to be jerked to a halt as the bodyguard snagged her wrist in a massive hand.

  “You’re Samuel Gibson, aren’t you?” the boy asked, drawing Samuel’s focus back to him.

  “Hey,” Brutal called, holding back the protesting woman as he glowered at the young boy. “Get away from—”

  “It’s okay, Maurice,” Samuel called back, waving his bodyguard down. “It’s all good.”

  Brutal instantly released the woman’s wrist and sank back into his chair. It wasn’t often Samuel called him by his given name, but when he did, Brutal knew Samuel was calling the shots.

  “I’m so sorry,” the woman with the strawberry-blonde hair gushed, wrapping her fingers around the boy’s shoulders. “He just got away from me.” She gave Lily an apologetic smile. “I told him you didn’t want to be disturbed—”

  Samuel laughed and held up a hand. “Don’t apologize. Honest.”

  The boy’s mother didn’t look convinced. Nor did she release her grip on her son’s shoulders.

  Samuel pushed his hat farther back on his head so the young boy could see his face without the brim casting it in shadows. He smiled. “I am Samuel Gibson. And you are?”

  “Mason Moore.”

  Samuel took the young boy’s hand in his and gave it a shake. “G’day, Mason. This is my friend, Lily.”

  Mason smiled at Lily, his cheeks growing pink. “Hello, Lily.”

  “Hello, Mason,” Lily replied with a warm smile.

  “Now,” Samuel said, resting his elbow on the edge of the table and bringing his gaze down level with Mason’s, “what can we do for you today?”

  The young boy stared at him. “You play guitar for Nick Blackthorne.”

  Samuel nodded. “I do. Although not for a while. Do you play an instrument?”

  Mason’s head dipped up and down with furious enthusiasm. “I do. Guitar like you. A Fender Telecaster Mom bought me for my birthday last year. I want to play as good as you do one day.”

  Samuel pulled a serious expression. “Do you practice?”

  “All the time,” Mason’s mother moaned above their heads.

  Samuel laughed. “Got your moves down?”

  Mason nodded again. “Wanna see?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Mason plucked out a wild score on an imaginary guitar, his eyes closed, his head back, his feet tapping.

  Samuel grinned and then clapped when the young boy opened his eyes and gazed up at Samuel with hope and excitement.

  “That was totally rockin’,” he said.

  Mason blushed. “Thanks. It’s the way you play in the ‘Gotta Run’ video.”

  “Holy smokes, it is too.” Samuel flicked Lily a smile. “What do you think? Did he do me justice?”

  Lily’s green eyes twinkled. “I think he was better than you.”

  Samuel gasped in melodramatic horror. “No.”

  Mason giggled.

  Lily nodded. “True. I’d go see a Mason Moore concert any day, and as you know, I don’t even like ro
ck music.”

  It was Mason’s turn to gasp. He gaped at Lily as if she’d just sprouted an extra head. “Are you serious?”

  Samuel nudged the young boy’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Reckon you could help me change her mind, Mason? Wanna play some more tunes with me?”

  Mason’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  Samuel rose to his feet. “Who better to play with me than you, eh?” He slung an invisible guitar over his shoulder, dropping Mason a wink. “Just give me a sec to tune it up.”

  Keeping his expression serious, he tuned the strings on the air guitar. Around them, the restaurant had fallen silent. Not a sound disturbed Samuel’s preparation for his performance with Mason. And yet, he could feel eyes upon him. Lots of them.

  The only ones that counted, however, were Lily’s.

  Was she looking at him?

  Adjusting the imaginary strap around his neck, he tested the tension on the invisible strings with a quick pluck of his fingers and then cast Mason a grave gaze. “Ready?”

  The young boy was staring at him, transfixed. His small hands held his own invisible guitar, the fingers of his right hovering over the exact location of a Telecaster’s sweet spot. He nodded. “Ready.”

  “Who do you want to dedicate the performance to?”

  Mason tossed his mother a wide smile. “My mom.”

  “Brilliant idea. Always good to let your mum know she’s special.”

  The woman behind Mason laughed.

  “Now,” Samuel said. “What do you think about the intro to ‘Glass Houses’?”

  Mason damn near quivered. “Awesome.”

  Samuel grinned. “On three. A one, and a two and a…” He started to play his “guitar”. So did Mason.

  The silence in the restaurant was absolute.

  Samuel tore out the notes on his air guitar, nodding at Mason whenever the young boy opened his eyes to look up at him. Sharing with the boy the power of the soundless riff.