Rush (Trojan Book 4)

by S. M. West

  “Thanks. Yours is a good one too.” She hands me a bottle of white wine, Pinot Grigio, eyes never leaving my Nirvana T-shirt.

  Based on our conversation, I figured she was into music, but the more and more I get to know her, I realize she really is into music. It isn’t some line you say to a musician as a coy way to build a bond.

  Dinner is easy and Pru appears comfortable despite the millions of questions Crystal fires at her or my daughter’s constant chattering. She’s excited to have someone new to talk to outside of me and Janet, who usually has meals with us like tonight, and then there’s the nails. She can’t wait for that.

  Janet and I clean up after dinner while they set up at the dining table. Then Janet gets to work on prepping for the morning, and I take the time to do a few things of my own.

  Every so often, I walk by the room and catch snippets of their conversation.

  “Where’s your mom?” Crystal asks.

  “She lives in Switzerland.” Pru is now painting her own nails.

  “Isn’t that far away? Why doesn’t she live with you?”

  “Switzerland’s far but she visits, and I can always hop on a plane to see her.” Her cheery tone is more stilted than real. “And I haven’t lived with my mom for years now. I’m an adult.”

  Crystal seems to accept that, nodding and staring down at her bright pink nails. Pru brought a few other colors with her, and my daughter quickly forgot the new red polish, wanting the classic pink.

  “What about your dad? Or brothers and sisters?”

  “Ah.” She pauses in applying the polish. “I don’t have any of those.”

  “What? Everyone has a dad and a mom. My mom is dead. Is your dad dead?”

  Pru stiffens, and I hover in the doorway, wondering if I should save her from the nosy child. Surely, she’s answered questions like this before?

  But even so, she seems uncomfortable with the topic just like she was talking about her mom.

  “Okay, you, time for bed.” I reach out to pull Crystal from the chair, and she squeals, hands spinning like pinwheels at her side.

  Janet now enters the room. “Wow, so pretty. Love the pink.”

  Crystal shines, showing off the color with pride. “Me too. I wish I could stay up. Will you come back another time?” Warm brown eyes stare earnestly at our guest.

  “Sure. Good night. Sweet dreams.”

  I kiss the top of Crystal’s head as she walks by. “I’ll be there in a minute to say goodnight.”

  Pru pushes her chair away from the table and gingerly picks up her kit, mindful of the wet polish on her hands. “I should get going.”

  “Don’t those have to dry?” I point at her nails, still glistening a near black shade, and she nods. “Stay. Let them do their thing while you have another glass.”

  Before she responds, I pour more wine into her glass, and she chuckles. “I guess I’m staying.”

  Shrugging, I lead the way into the living room. “Let’s talk. We didn’t have a chance earlier.” Her cheeks heat, and I wonder if she’s thinking about the kiss like I am.

  “About that…” She tucks her legs under herself and places the glass on the side table.

  “Before we get into that, thank you for spending time with Crystal.” I sit on the couch across from her.

  “Oh. Sure. I’m not good with kids.” She’s awkward, dropping a foot to the floor and then folding it again as if not sure what to do.

  “I don’t believe you. You were great with her.”

  She shrugs, glancing down at her glass, clearly letting me know she’s done with the topic of kids. I won’t push.

  “I overheard her asking you about your mother.”

  “She told me her mom is dead.” It feels like she wants to say more, ask more, but she doesn’t.

  “Yes. She rarely asks about her mother.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

  “What a fucking cliché.” I shake off the disgust. I don’t regret my daughter, not for one second, but the story is just so unoriginal.

  “Hey, clichés have their place. If you’re comfortable talking about it, I’d like to hear it. And if not, that’s okay.”

  “You must have read about it. You know, being a fan.” My brows rise suggestively, and she smiles.

  “I remember something about it but not the details.”

  “I’m sure you could fill in the blanks. I was young and foolish. The lead guitarist of one of the world’s hottest rock bands. I mean, we were on a high, stratospheric. Women everywhere.” I wince and look to her, not sure if I should have said so much.

  Her expression is neutral, open, and attentive. She nods, and a playful smile tiptoes across her lips. “Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.”

  I nod, laughing ruefully, and tease, “Were you there?”

  “Not my scene. I love music and have been to many concerts, but I’m not a groupie. Stars of any kind don’t do it for me.”

  “Wow, that hurts.” My arms cross my chest in a protective way.

  A grin stutters across her face, unsure how to take my comment. I wink and she relaxes, leaning her head against the cushion. “Go on.”

  “She was a groupie. We slept together, and I never thought anything of it.”

  “Just another night,” she quips, and raw embarrassment, acid-like, dumps into my stomach.

  “Sadly, yeah. Then about seven weeks later, Melanie—that’s Crystal’s mother—contacted me.”

  I pause, still cringing inwardly at what she did to get in touch with me. Melanie could have been so much more than she was. Determined describes her, but so was addict and selfish.

  To share the news of her pregnancy, she got one of the local guys working those two nights of the tour in Bend, Oregon, to do the legwork and get a call through to me. I can only imagine what she did for that favor. It’s no worse than what she was willing to do for drugs.

  Fuck, even at thirty-two, I still want to punch the younger me in the balls for sleeping with her.

  “She told you she was pregnant?” Pru pulls me from the past.

  “Yeah and I was skeptical. I mean, I sort of remembered her, but wasn’t a hundred percent sure.” I slide to the edge of the seat, widening my legs and resting my forearms on my thighs.

  My eyes drop to the carpet and then I make myself look at her. “I’m not proud of how I acted back then. It isn’t an excuse, but I’d never had such adoration or money before. I was just an average guy from LA. I could hardly believe my dream of being a rock star had come true. I went a little crazy, and I wasn’t a saint.”

  Unable to share the less than savory details, I sip my wine. I screwed my fair share of women, and I wasn’t even the worst of our group.

  “I can only imagine. It would be hard to stay grounded.”

  “Sounds like you wouldn’t have had a problem.” Her star comment still rubs at me in an unsettling way.

  Unlike most women, where being an actor and ex-rock star garners me all the fucking brownie points in the world, I get the sense it’s working against me with Pru.

  “Eli, I’m not judging you. I’m no saint either. We all make mistakes or missteps.”

  “Yeah.” My hands clasp behind my neck. “Anyway, there was a paternity test, and I fully accepted responsibility. We agreed to raise the child together. But I didn’t realize until it was too late that Melanie was an addict. I had to put her into rehab while pregnant. She stayed clean for the rest of the pregnancy and for some time afterward.”

  “What happened?”

  “She died of an overdose when Crystal was a baby.”

  “Oh, Eli, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. The real crappy part is, I think Crystal’s better off without her mother.” I glance down the hallway, never wanting my daughter to hear those words out of my mouth.

  Janet’s silhouette comes into focus as she steps from the hallway into the room. “Eli, Crystal’s ready for you.” She continues walking through the room, trying t
o be as discreet as possible.

  “Thanks, Janet.”

  “Oh, I should go.” Pru bounds to her feet, and I’m quick on mine, grabbing her elbow.

  “Can you wait? I won’t be more than ten minutes.”

  There’s so much I want to say, what I meant to say earlier today. I was wrong and such a fool to think I could work with her, see her day in and day out, and that my hunger for her would be crushed under the neglect. Die a quick and uneventful death. Not a fucking chance.

  It’s a constant craving for her, and if anything, it’s grown more insistent with us having to be together almost every day. And now that I’ve made a move…well, two with the kisses, I can’t bury this need.

  All I want is to give in to it. See where this goes and what we could be.

  13

  Pru

  This feels different

  “Pru.” The way he says my name—in a low and seductive tone—shouldn’t be hot.

  No, not at all. But it is. My body heats and turns to mush. I can’t possibly say no.

  “Okay, I’ll stay.” I try to move, inch back to the chair, but he doesn’t let go of my elbow.

  And truthfully, I’m not trying all that hard to get out of his grip. It’s nice. More than nice. I like it. His touch. Him.

  “Thank you. I’ll be quick.” He releases me, a smile blooming on his dashing face as he takes off down the hallway.

  “Take your time.” I grab the wine bottle, pour another glass, and sit.

  The wait isn’t long and gives me the time to admire his apartment. Over the years, I’d been in others in the building, not many but a few, and yet knowing this is Eli’s home, his things, I’m interested in every detail.

  The rooms have high ceilings, stained hardwood floors, modern casement windows, and each entry is framed by beautiful arched doorways. The living room is north-facing, spacious, and includes a lovely fireplace.

  “Thanks for waiting.” Eli walks into the room, smiling, not long after.

  Instead of sitting across from me like he did before, he drops down beside me and I tense, not sure what to make of it. We’re in his home. His housekeeper and daughter are only steps away.

  “I know we talked about this when you first started, but I’d like to revisit keeping it professional.”

  “What does that mean?” My heart kicks at my ribs.

  “I want to see you outside of work.” He takes my hand, and I’m unable to form words. “Before you say no, I know you feel this too.”

  Gah, why does he say things like that? My heart is seconds away from exploding. Of course I feel whatever this is between us. It’s impossible to deny.

  Attraction I understand. It’s natural and not new to me. But this—whatever is going on between us—is something entirely different and scary. There’s a pull between us. Undeniable and electric.

  We need only be in the same room, so much is said with just a look that something happens to me. Butterflies sprout in my stomach and my pulse loses its rhythm, becoming too fast and too erratic. The tether between us needs no words.

  But that’s physical. An overwhelming attraction.

  There’s so much more than attraction to consider. He’s a father, a man with responsibilities, and I don’t do commitment. Well, I do and can, but not in a serious way.

  We want different things.

  He has a home and a family. I’m not looking for any of that. And yet, all my objections cling to the back of my throat no matter how hard I will my mouth to open and speak.

  “Pru, what do you think?”

  Steeling my spine, I blurt out the thoughts circling my mind. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. For one, we work together and it isn’t changing anytime soon. And I’m not looking for a serious relationship.”

  The slump of his shoulders and hint of hurt in his brown eyes send a pang of regret slicing through my chest. It doesn’t change how I feel or what I want, but losing a chance with him is near unthinkable.

  Undeterred, he cups my face, and his mouth presses so tenderly against mine that I forget what we were discussing. A contented sigh sails past my slightly parted lips, and his tongue ventures inside.

  It’s a tease. He goes no further. The kiss is chaste. Way more innocent than any we’ve had before, yet my heart thunders in my ears unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

  “We’re fucking fantastic together.” His eyes dance with delight.

  “That’s sex.”

  I may not want a lifelong commitment, but I want more than sex. I like conversations, dinners, and dates with those I share my bed with. Could we keep it light and fun? Could I keep us from becoming more or worse, going off the rails?

  “And?”

  “This feels different.” The vulnerability and uncertainty to my voice causes my insides to churn. I can’t believe what I’m saying, how much I’m revealing without hesitation.

  Voice dipping low, he pushes. “How so?”

  “We don’t want the same things. I want casual but monogamous. And you—”

  “I want monogamous too—that’s nonnegotiable.” A hand skates along the side of my neck and slips around to my nape, holding me there. “The thought of you with anyone else drives me mad.” The low rumble emanating from his throat echoes in my core, and I press my legs together. “We’ll start with casual and see where things go.”

  “But that’s what I mean. What we have right now is good, and more is complicated.”

  “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little complexity in a relationship? You don’t strike me as fainthearted. You’d rise to the challenge.”

  “Fainthearted?” I chuckle. “Hardly. And an interesting word choice.”

  “So what does casual mean to you?” He rests his forehead against mine, and my eyes shutter closed.

  I can barely focus with his heat and scent surrounding me. “Um…”

  I lick my dry lips, trying to center my mind, and he growls as his tongue darts out to taste my mouth.

  “Stop that.” I mash my lips together. “I can’t think straight.”

  He laughs, and the hand around my neck lightly squeezes. “I like how I affect you. Go on.”

  “We’d have to keep it a secret on set—I don’t want people talking. And I’d want to just take things slow. I have a life and so do you. We don’t have to spend every waking hour together.”

  “Understood and I agree.” He plants a quick kiss to my lips. “Good, it’s settled.”

  Before I can say anything else, throw out another objection, his tongue sweeps into my open mouth.

  Am I okay with this?

  There’s no room for logic or to second-guess this decision with Eli consuming me. Instead, I give in and brush his hair from his face while inching closer, pressing my chest against his. He hisses, deepening our connection.

  “Daddy,” Crystal’s sweet voice calls from somewhere down the dark hall, and we break apart.

  Our foreheads resume their position against each other. My breath is choppy and mirrors his.

  “I should go,” I murmur practically against his mouth.

  He nods, squeezing once more at the nape of my neck. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He pulls back, brushing his fingers through the waves of my hair, and stares at me. His intense gaze feels like forever when it’s mere seconds.

  His mouth lands on mine once more, and this time, his kiss is long and lasting as if he’s treasuring this moment.

  On the way up to the penthouse, my lips tingle with the intense memory of his warm, full lips on mine. I’m too blissed out to fret about what I’ve agreed to, although I’m bound to get hurt.

  And I’m in so much of a daze I almost hit answer when my phone rings as I’m through the door. Ross’s face fills my phone screen.

  Nope. I should talk to him but not now. It’s been almost a month since the firing, and he’s intent on keeping his wife’s secrets. I can’t deal with that right now. Not when I’m near stress free, w
hich is a first. I’ve been stressed out since my last day at CE.

  Am I being childish in refusing to speak to him? Maybe. And if I am, I can’t bring myself to give a fuck. I’ll get there eventually and maybe, just maybe, once we’ve talked things out and he comes clean, we’ll be friends again. But for now, things are still a little too raw.

  I send him to voicemail and get ready for bed. I want to call Harley, but before I do, I listen to voicemail. Ross’s voice booms through the phone speaker.

  “Hey, Pru, it’s…ah, it’s Ross. I’ve left several messages. I know you’re pissed, and you’ve got every right to be.” He sounds off, sad and contrite. “But I’d like to talk. Please call me.”

  I hit delete, ignoring the churning in my stomach. It doesn’t sound like he’s about to change his tune. Then I bring up Harley’s number and hit call.

  “Hey, Pru. I meant to call you earlier today, but I lost track of time. Tell me about Eli in the towel.” Her voice is husky, and she makes it sound scandalous.

  I sent a quick text this morning after I fled from Eli’s trailer about the towel incident. This is our first chance to talk.

  “In a minute.” It’s kind of cruel, but I love making her wait. When Nash proposed, she tortured me by withholding the details. Payback is a bitch. “How are you doing? You sound tired?”

  “You evil woman.” She sighs. “It’s been a day. It looks like I have to go to Seattle.”

  “Oh, really?” I pull back the bed covers.

  “Yes. Nash usually deals with this client, and since he’s in London…it can’t wait.” She sounds defeated. “I’ve got to go. Anyway, enough about me. Eli. In. A. Towel. Did you take it off? Get a repeat of the night at The Salon?”

  I snort and she cackles. I could dive right into Eli and tonight—she’ll lose her mind—but I want more details about her.

  “Later. When do you have to leave?”

  “Pru, you aren’t playing nice!”

  “Come on, I care.”

  “Fine,” she huffs. “Tomorrow, in the evening.”

  “We won’t see each other before you go. Filming will be late tomorrow, boo. How long will you be gone?”