Hearts on Air (Hearts #6)

by L.H. Cosway

  “Reya,” Trev scolded. “You probably just saddled me with a kid who’s gonna be afraid to jump off a four-foot wall.”

  “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. I’m sure he’s good. He’s probably only about eighteen and he’s already ripped to bits. You don’t get a body like that from not practicing.”

  Trev arched a brow. “How do you now he’s ripped?”

  I tapped the side of my temple. “I can just tell. A lady’s intuition.”

  He grinned and leaned closer, his elbows resting on the bar top. “Oh yeah? And what else can you tell with your lady’s intuition?”

  “Plenty.”

  “Enlighten me,” he challenged. What was it about Trevor Cross’s challenges that I couldn’t seem to back away from? I went all in.

  “Well, for one, I can tell whether or not a man will be good in bed.”

  He smiled so wide it practically split his face. “Oh, now this I have to hear.”

  “It’s all in the walk. A confident, sure walk indicates a confident, sure lover.”

  Trev chuckled. “You crack me up, Reyrey.”

  I smiled and tipped my glass to my lips as Trev asked, “So, what does my walk say?”

  I shook my head fervently. “I’m not touching that one.”

  He pouted. “You’re no fun.” A pause as he shot me a dark look and muttered low, “Guess you don’t need to examine my walk.”

  I narrowed my gaze playfully. “I knew you’d sink to that level.”

  “That’s because you know me best.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  He tilted his head, curious. “No?”

  “Even in the days when I thought I knew everything there was to know about you, you were still a bit of a mystery.”

  Our gazes locked as he replied, “Must be that poker face of mine.”

  “Must be,” I agreed quietly.

  A moment passed before he said, “You were amazing tonight, by the way. That song you opened with fucking killed me.” The husky tone of his voice had me glancing away. That was the Trevor Cross I first met so many years ago. A friendly joker who somehow sounded suggestive and provocative at the same time.

  “You did always love it when I spoke Spanish,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual.

  “I still do. It’s the sexiest thing in the world.”

  “You’re so predictable.”

  “You think?”

  “Yep. All men love it when women speak Spanish. All women love it when men speak French. It’s written in the code of our DNA.”

  Trev laughed softly. “Is that a fact?”

  “Sure. I bet if you studied a double helix real close you’d find it somewhere,” I joked.

  Trev reached out to run a finger down my neck and over the exposed curve of my shoulder. “You’re probably right, but I only love it when it’s you.”

  His tender words somehow made the tequila hit my blood stream quicker. Or maybe it was all in my head. Either way, I felt slightly weaker than I had a moment before.

  “Don’t,” I begged, my breathing choppy.

  All of a sudden his mouth was at my ear. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t say stuff like that.”

  His hand moved to my hip and I felt it all the way between my thighs. “Why not?”

  “Because it makes me feel like doing things I shouldn’t,” I answered truthfully, shifting to look into his eyes. I was drowning in all that blue.

  “Maybe you should,” he murmured huskily, his mind drifting off somewhere and then back to me. I swallowed when he whispered, “Last night my sheets smelled of you.”

  My stomach flipped. The first night I slept in his bed I’d been worried about his scent being on the sheets. I never gave a thought that I’d be leaving mine for him.

  “Trev . . .”

  “What?” he probed, a sexy challenge in his eyes. He knew he had me. I needed to be stronger.

  I steeled myself and said, “When we get back I’m changing your sheets.”

  He very slowly shook his head. “No. You’re not.”

  I lifted my chin. “I am.”

  “Touch those sheets and see what happens.”

  “Is that a threat?” I asked, my voice firm. He didn’t respond, only continued to hold my gaze in a battle of wills. Why was he doing this to me? He told me we were just going to be friends. Now it’s night two and already he’s flirting. Or was he just teasing, bantering like we always used to? This felt like more than harmless banter though.

  The moment was broken when a familiar voice said, “Can I have a round of Jager bombs?”

  I looked away from Trev to find Leanne standing by the bar. “Hey Reya. Brilliant gig. You were incredible.”

  “Oh thanks,” I said, still feeling the heat of Trev’s attention as she started counting fingers then glanced at the bartender. “I need six.”

  He nodded and began putting her order together.

  “You can’t drink tonight, Leanne,” said Trev and he sounded almost fatherly. It was weird. He’d always been the wayward kid of his family. “Tomorrow’s too important.”

  “It’s just one drink.”

  “Jager bombs aren’t a drink. They’re the gateway to a night of debauchery and we both know it,” Trev went on.

  “I have to agree with him,” I put in. “It’s like the entrée before a giant steak.”

  “Or the oral sex before the fucking,” Trev added and I rolled my eyes even though the way he said ‘fucking’ gave me chills.

  Leanne huffed. “But I’ve already ordered them.”

  “And now you can un-order them,” said Trev.

  “Actually, I can’t. Look, he’s making them now.”

  “I’ll pay then. You’re still not drinking them.”

  She put a hand on her hip. “Do you know what? I’m really sick of people telling me what to do around here.” She turned and stomped back to the table where the others were waiting. Trev slipped a few notes onto the bar and went after her. I sighed, knocked back the last of my drink, and headed backstage to grab my things. One of the club workers had kindly brought my keyboard out back. A few minutes later I was making my way out front when I bumped into Trev and the others climbing into taxis.

  “There you are,” said Trev, coming and taking my things from me. I climbed in next to him. Paul and James shared our taxi, while Leanne, Neil and the two crewmembers got in the other one.

  “I didn’t know you spoke Spanish,” said James, referring to the song I opened my set with. He broke my attention away from the fact that the side of my body was pressed tight to Trev’s. I tried my best to keep a sliver of space between us.

  “Oh yeah, I grew up speaking two languages,” I answered. “My parents were immigrants. They spoke no English at all when they first came to the U.K. They had to learn as they went along.”

  “Really?” James asked, sounding interested. “My grandparents emigrated from Trinidad back in the sixties but they both spoke English. Every once in a while, my gran dips into Creole, but only when she’s really pissed about something.” He chuckled. “Where did your parents come from?”

  I stiffened, but Trev was probably the only one who noticed. He was one of the few people who knew how the subject of my parents was a sore spot. Still, I answered James’s question out of politeness. “Madrid. They grew up under Franco so it was very different from Spain nowadays. It’s funny, I mean, they left to escape a totalitarian regime, but the ideals stayed ingrained in them. They’re, um, very conservative, very strict, and very religious.”

  “I bet that was no picnic growing up,” Paul put in, eyeing me.

  I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “No, it wasn’t.”

  Relieved to see we’d arrived at the apartment, I was the first to get out of the taxi. I knew it was rude not to at least offer to put in for the fare, but I felt stifled. Between whatever Trev was up to and talking about my parents, I had to get out of there.

  When I opened the door to
the apartment there were two crewmen in the living area tinkering around with their cameras, waiting. As soon as they saw me come in they started filming. I frowned and headed down the hallway to the linen cupboard, knowing they weren’t interested in me. They were waiting to film the guys when they got in.

  I found some spare sheets and carried them into Trev and Callum’s bedroom. I was hoping to get the task done before Trev walked in, but no such luck.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, shutting the door in the face of one of the film crew. It served him right for trying to follow Trev into the bedroom.

  I only had the pillowcase off so far. “I’m changing your sheets like I said I would.”

  He came at me, tugging the pillow from my grasp and tossing it back on the bed. “And I told you not to.” He spoke low, his words held an edge of threat.

  I stood firm and picked the pillow back up. “Why not? You’re being weird.”

  He exhaled a heavy breath and levelled me with his eyes. “Just don’t. Just . . . give me this.”

  My throat felt heavy as I stared at him. There was a deep, starkly vivid need there and it was almost shocking to see. He’d been trying so hard to hide it, but right then I saw a flicker of the truth. I saw a crack in his I just want to be friends façade.

  I looked at him, then at the bed, then back at him. His gaze lowered to my lips and I wet them instinctively. Heat fizzled between us and I dropped the pillow. He took one, two steps forward until there was only an inch of space left. His breath hit my cheeks and I stood frozen in place. He lifted a hand to my face and traced a line with his fingers down the side of my neck. I closed my eyes for a second when he spoke.

  “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

  I didn’t know why, but I let out a quiet, watery laugh. “It’s only been three days.”

  “The hardest three days of my life.”

  “Maybe I should go home—”

  “No,” he said, his nostrils flaring. “I don’t want you to go.” His hand came to my shoulder, gripping firmly.

  I dropped my eyes to the floor. “I should, um, get to bed.”

  “Reya, look at me.”

  I looked up, ensnared in those icy blue eyes of his again. They’d always been my undoing. “What?” I whispered.

  He bit his lip, looking conflicted. “Just . . . promise me you’ll stay. If I back off, will you stay?”

  I nodded. I wasn’t sure I could leave even if I wanted to anyway. “I’ll stay.”

  “Thank you,” he said and gave my shoulder another squeeze.

  I moved away from him and to the door, opening it and leaving before I lost my nerve. I could’ve kissed him and he would’ve let me. He could’ve kissed me and I would’ve let him.

  This was all such a mess. I thought of my conversation with Karla before the trip and I knew she’d been right to be sceptical. Trev was the one thing in this world I could never, ever resist.

  I’d always want him. Only him.

  Even when I knew wholeheartedly that I shouldn’t.

  Thirteen.

  The location for Thursday’s filming was like nothing I’d ever seen before. I sat in the back of the taxi beside Neil as we approached the bizarre construction. It was like a science experiment brought to life in architecture—or an alien spacecraft—and the group were planning to scale it. I mean, how? Just . . . how? It was called the Atomium and the name was apt, because it looked like a giant atom made from steel and glass.

  “How did they even get permission to do this?” I asked Neil, only a little worried. I was yet to witness Trev truly hurt himself. Sure, he’d had his fair share of smaller injuries, like sprains and fractured bones, but nothing that wouldn’t heal.

  “I have no idea,” said Neil, shaking his head. “Barry always seems to have the right people in his pocket.”

  And he certainly did. The cast and crew had arrived at the crack of dawn to start rehearsing. It was just after eleven and there appeared to be a crowd gathered, watching the preparations. Several tourists held up cameras and tablets to snap pictures and video.

  “Can you give these to Trevor? He texted earlier to ask if I could grab them for him,” said Neil, handing me a small plastic bag. I peeked inside and found an iPod, chewing gum, mixed nuts and some hand cream. I was definitely going to rib him about the hand cream.

  “Sure,” I answered, though I was still a little hesitant to be around Trev. We hadn’t exchanged a single word since last night. He and the others left early this morning, while Neil and I were knee-deep in scheduling.

  We got out of the taxi and headed towards the building. The film crew looked to be setting up shots while the group took a break. I was surprised to see Leanne sitting on the hood of a car with Callum standing in front of her. She held a bottle of water out to him. When he moved to grab it she pulled it away, then she did it again, like they were playing a game. Were they flirting? Seriously, you never knew where those two stood with one another from one day to the next. Both had big smiles on, but neither noticed the female crewmember filming them. Or maybe they didn’t care. It was all a part of their contract to be recorded at any time, except in certain circumstances, like if they were in a bathroom or a bedroom.

  Trev, Paul and James sat on some steps chatting when I approached. I wore a loose, flower-print top with a dipped neckline and some leggings. Trev’s gaze soaked in every detail before his attention rose to my face. A tight, searing heat circled my lungs. I held out the plastic bag.

  “Neil said you asked for these,” I told him stiffly.

  “Right, yeah thanks.”

  I rubbed my palms on my leggings, feeling awkward. “No problem. I wouldn’t want you to have to do without your hand moisturiser. That’d be a travesty,” I said, hoping the jibe might lighten the mood between us. Paul and James chuckled while Trev’s mouth curved in a slow grin.

  “Well, I know you like it when they’re soft,” he said and winked.

  I flushed a deep red. I should’ve known better than to go up against him. He was pretty much immune to embarrassment, always had been.

  I tried to think of a snappy comeback but came up empty. Instead I went with a sassy, “Is that all? Can I get anything else for you, sir?”

  Trev smirked and tapped his cheek. “A kiss will do nicely.”

  Oh, he was in a formidable mood this morning. He had that twinkle in his eye that told me so.

  “I think you’ll be fine without any kisses,” I said.

  Trev put on a sad face. I ignored him and pulled out my phone to check my messages. I heard him let out a long, beleaguered sigh. James, who had been discussing something with Paul, asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nobody wants to kiss me. I feel like such a frump.”

  James chuckled. “Frump is the last word anyone would use to describe you, Trev.”

  I shook my head and chanced a glance at him. He was smiling wickedly. “Then why haven’t I had a kiss in nearly seven months? I’m like Drew Barrymore in that movie.”

  That was it. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut any longer. “You’ll live.”

  Trev didn’t rise to my ire. Instead he continued his little act, casting an overly dramatic frown at James and Paul. “It’s really doing a number on my confidence.”

  I scoffed. “Your confidence is perfectly healthy.”

  “I just feel like buying a bucket of Ben & Jerry’s to drown my sorrows.”

  “Oh God, put him out of his misery, Reya,” Paul begged. “If for no other reason than to end this monstrosity, whatever it is. I’m pretty sure I’m emotionally scarred just witnessing it.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. I’m not giving him what he wants.”

  Trev batted his eyelashes. “Would giving me one little kiss really be so awful? Am I that hideous?”

  “Dear Lord, you’re a spoiled brat.”

  He fake-gasped and brought his hand to his chest. “How can you speak to me like that?”

  “I’ll tak
e the hand cream back,” I threatened. “I’ll take it and I’ll empty it all down the sink.”

  “Such threats. How is a boy supposed to work in an environment like this?”

  Oh God. I wanted to throttle him. Instead I shoved my phone back in my bag and strode forward. I bent low, realising too late that the position afforded him a nice little glance down my top, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His scent filled my nose and I quickly withdrew.

  He practically glowed he smiled so wide. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  I cocked a brow. “Still feel like a frump?”

  “Not at all. Your kiss has miraculous transformative qualities. I feel like a whole new man.”

  I gave a begrudging laugh. Why was it that even when he was annoying the living hell out of me he still managed to make me laugh?

  I caught something move in my peripheral vision and realised we were being filmed. I was relieved when I remembered I wasn’t mic’d up, but then again, Trev and the others were, and their microphones were possibly strong enough to pick up what I said.

  Neil approached then and handed me a list of things I had to pick up from the shop. When I returned, Barry had gathered the group to give a talk. A pair of Ray Bans were perched atop his head and he wore a rumpled brown T-shirt. I set some water bottles and cans of iced tea out on a table for the cast and crew as I listened in.

  “I want to get some footage of you lot doing a tour inside before we shoot the outer scenes,” said Barry. “The observatory pods have some great views over the city.”

  When Trev spotted me he came right over. “You want to come on the tour with us?”

  “Um, I’m not sure. Neil might need my help.”

  “He’ll survive without you for half an hour. Come on.”

  Trev led me back to where Barry was still giving instructions and a girl came and hooked me up with a microphone. “I don’t think this is necessary. I’m just a PA,” I said to her as she handed me the little black box.

  She gave me an apologetic look and shrugged. “Sorry. Barry’s orders.”

  I stuck the box in the back of my leggings and fell into step beside Trev. Filming had started back up and a smartly dressed woman led the group inside the building. I realised she was a tour guide when I got close enough to hear her give a brief intro into the history of the building.