by Kim Loraine
“Baby doll? You in here?” Aiden poked his head past the privacy curtain with a concerned look creasing his brow.
“Pretty sure I’m broken.”
He offered a half-hearted grin and sat gingerly on the bed. “What happened?”
“Bike messenger versus clumsy pedestrian.”
He made a show of wincing and took her hand. “How long have you been waiting?”
She shrugged. “An hour maybe.”
“Hmm, that’s too long. It was too easy for me to find you. The press will be all over you if they figure out what room you’re in.”
He pressed the button on her bed that called the nurse.
Pulling out her phone, she checked her missed calls and messages while Aiden waited by the door.
A message from Garrett caught her eye first.
What happened?
His message was accompanied by a link to a news article.
Panic Station singer injured after fight with her drummer/paramour on NYC streets.
Her heart jumped into her throat. There was a picture of her, pale-faced, sweaty, and clearly in pain as she was loaded into the ambulance.
She typed back a quick response.
Broke my ankle. I’m a clumsy idiot.
She waited for him to write back, drumming her fingers on the bedrail.
Why do they think I hurt you?
This wasn’t a conversation she could have over text message. She picked up her phone, ready to dial his number when the nurse came in.
“What’s going on, Miss Peters? Did you need something?”
Aiden stepped toward the bed, gaining the full attention of the woman.
“Oh, Mr. Boyd.” Her cheeks went bright red.
“Thanks for coming so quickly,” he glanced at her nametag and offered a cheeky grin. “Cece. We need you to find Angela a more private room. As soon as the media gets wind of her location, security will be hard pressed to keep them at bay.”
“Uh, I . . . I’ll see what I can do.”
The doctor came in before much else could happen and that was fine with Angela. She hated the special treatment that Aiden insisted they deserved. She hadn’t done anything worth warranting a private room, or people pandering to her. She was a musician. Not Gandhi.
“Well, Ms. Peters. It’s not broken.”
“What? Are you sure?”
She was shocked, and relieved.
“I know it looks bad, but severe sprains can feel just as bad as a break when it comes to the ankle. You’ll need to wear a splint for a few weeks to help the ligaments heal. It’ll be sore for a while but there doesn’t look like any need for surgery as long as you treat your ankle tenderly for a few weeks. We’ll splint you and get you on some crutches. You’ll need to consider physical therapy but should be good as new soon.”
The doctor started applying the ugly splint to her ankle and she thanked her lucky stars for pain meds.
“So, she’ll be okay to shoot a music video tomorrow?”
She jerked her head around to face Aiden. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, Marcus tried to call you. The video shoot’s been moved up.”
“Do the guys know?”
Aiden shrugged. “I’m sure Marcus arranged it.”
The doctor cleared his throat, annoyed that he was being ignored.
“In answer to your question, yes, she’ll be fine. But, she can’t put any weight on that ankle for at least a week. You’ll want to go see your primary care doc for a follow up before you start trying to bear weight, Miss Peters.”
She nodded, frustrated that plans were being set into motion without her consent—again.
Aiden helped her from the bed and stabilized her as the nurse brought in some crutches.
“Ugh, here we go,” Angela muttered, annoyed at the thought of using crutches.
As they made their way carefully to the emergency room exit, Aiden shot her a grin.
“What?”
“You’re awfully good at using those.”
Heat crept up her cheeks. “I’m basically a walking disaster. I’m surprised I lasted this long without getting hurt. Garrett’s always patching me up.”
A different kind of heat washed over her at the memory of Garrett, taping her broken toe the morning this whirlwind started. His lips sending a jolt of fire through her as they moved up her leg.
“Great, but right now, you need to be focusing on me. You’re supposed to be TeamAiden, remember?”
Heaving a sigh, she smiled up at him as they passed through the automatic doors toward the waiting mass of paparazzi.
“Here we go.”
He placed a palm on the small of her back and made a show of helping her into the waiting car as shutters clicked and questions were asked.
This time, he said nothing.
Chapter 26
“I’m fine, Gare. You don’t need to keep bringing me stuff.”
Angela sat sprawled out on his couch, her injured ankle propped on three pillows. He was used to her being hurt. But this time the fact that the media was blaming him for her sprained ankle left a heavy coating of guilt on her. If she hadn’t been distracted and trying to explain Aiden’s behavior, maybe she wouldn’t have fallen. He’d insisted that she stay with him and Parker until she was more mobile. Honestly, he had expected a protest from her or the label, but no one had argued.
“You have to take your meds with food. Stop whining.”
He couldn’t resist the urge to run his fingers through her long, blond hair after passing her a bagel and a big glass of water.
“You should quit being a drummer and become a nurse. Or better yet, an evil dictator since you like bossing me around so much.”
“I like taking care of you, not bossing you around. There’s a big difference between the two.”
In truth, he wanted to do so much more than take care of her at the moment. He hadn’t had his hands on her for a solid week and he was aching to bury himself inside of her.
She stretched her arms above her head, pressing her breasts forward, against the thin fabric of her shirt. His crotch tightened as he watched her. God damn, even laid up in sweats and a ratty old T-shirt, she was gorgeous.
She cocked an eyebrow, clearly reading the lust in his eyes.
Batting her eyelashes, she whispered, “I’d be okay with a little bossing. Just so you know.”
“Oh, yeah? Take off your shirt.”
Her eyes widened and a smirk crossed her lips as she dropped the bagel back onto her plate and handed it back to him. A blush colored her cheeks as he stared her down.
“I’m waiting.”
She nodded, took her lower lip between her teeth for a brief moment, and lifted the fabric away from her body. A wave of lust hit him straight in the gut. Her skin was flawless and he wanted to touch her. It still didn’t seem real to him that he could touch her.
She shifted on the couch, her breathing speeding up as he drew closer.
“I want you . . . so much.” Her voice sent chills through him.
He spread her knees and fit his hips between her legs, careful of her ankle. Sure she could feel the evidence of his need, he worked to keep himself under control. She lifted her hips and ground against him with a little moan, sending all of his restraint out the window.
Crushing his lips to hers, he let his passion take over, palming her breasts, rocking his hips. He was still fully dressed but completely wound up.
“Clothes,” she whispered.
“What about them?”
“We’ve got too many on.”
Her hands played at the waistband of his jeans, tickling his hipbones and sending jolts of delicious arousal straight to his groin. She made quick work of his belt
and the buttons of his fly while he tugged off his shirt and shimmied her sweats down her hips.
“Careful,” she warned as he moved the fabric down her legs and slowly over the splint still protecting her ankle.
“I won’t hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”
As he moved back up the length of her body an indiscernible look crossed her face. What was it? Fear? Understanding?
Before he could address her expression, she had her hand wrapped around him and her hips rose to grant him access. The moment he filled her his world was righted. Her soft breaths in his ear, the heat of her body around his, the pounding of his heart all had him fighting to make it last.
They lay in a tangled heap, contented. No, it was more than that for him. He was completely in love. She owned him at this point. There was no going back, not that he wanted to. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, an unwelcome distraction from the warm afterglow they were basking in.
“Don’t,” he warned. He didn’t want anything to break the spell of this moment.
“I have to.”
She pushed gently at his chest and offered a kiss as a consolation prize. As she answered the phone, he pulled on his jeans and gathered her clothes from the pile they’d made on the floor.
“Really? It’s up already?” The excitement in her voice had him curious.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s awesome.”
It was a challenge for him to avoid eavesdropping, but the idea that she might be talking to Aiden set a cold ache in the pit of his stomach.
She looked at him expectantly after hanging up.
“What?”
“The video is up. It’s already had over a million views.”
The video. It was a sore subject for him and Parker. They’d had to drop everything and rush to meet Aiden and Angie in New York. Then to make matters worse, they’d only been included in two scenes.
“You want to watch it?” he asked, knowing what her answer would be.
She grinned and nodded.
He grabbed his tablet from the counter and pulled up the video, a gnawing sense of worry coating him.
The familiar strains of the song filled the room and then he sucked in a breath as Angela’s bare back came into view. She tossed her hair and turned to look straight into the camera as Aiden’s voice started singing. The video was hot. They’d managed to hide her splint with angles and trickery while maintaining an uncomfortably intimate scene. Aiden embraced her, caressed her, and whispered against her cheek. He even fucking licked her collarbone. As the video ended, Garrett felt his heart sink.
Angela stared at the screen, her cheeks flushed and eyes wide. “They cut you guys out.”
Anger flooded his senses. He knew she’d had nothing to do with it, but at the moment he couldn’t rationalize that. Running a hand through his hair, he stood. Unable to look at her without seeing Aiden all over her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were going to do that. I’ll call Aiden, or Marcus. I’m sure we can figure out what happened.”
He held a hand up. “No. It’s fine. It wasn’t our song anyway.”
“Every song we do is ours.”
He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
Tension had been thick between Angela, Garrett, and Parker since the video released. She’d called Aiden but gotten nothing better than a, Sorry, baby doll. That’s just how it goes. Her ankle was finally able to bear weight and they were days away from the beginning of the European leg of the tour. Why was it that every time they were about to leave for a tour there was some kind of drama? Was this going to become a thing now?
“Angela Marie, what is wrong with you?” Her mom tossed a wadded up paper towel across the kitchen.
“Stupid drama. As usual.”
Her mom pushed a mug of hot cocoa, topped with giant marshmallows at her. “What’s going on?”
She shrugged. There was so much to say and so much she couldn’t talk about. Fingering the ostentatious bauble on her left ring finger, she heaved a sigh. “The boys are mad at me.”
“About the video?”
“Yeah. I can’t blame them, though. It’s ridiculous. They flew out there to film their scenes only to end up on the cutting room floor.”
Her mom stole a marshmallow from the mug of cocoa. “I was worried about this.”
“You were?”
“It’s only natural for the lead singer to become the focus of any band. I mean, look at Queen, there were a lot of talented people in that band, but Freddie Mercury is the most notable,” her mom mused.
Angela frowned down at her cup.
“The same thing happened to No Doubt,” she admitted. “They sort of imploded. That’s why we always said we wouldn’t date, but maybe it wasn’t the romance that got in the way. Maybe it was really the limelight.”
“Just hold tight to those boys. They’ll figure it out, but you’ve got to stand up for them, too. Right now the world is focused on you and Aiden. After the wedding is a thing of the past, they’ll move on to some other celebrity news.”
The mention of the wedding sent a chill over her. She hated lying to her family.
Just a few more months and it will all be over.
Pushing away the untouched mug, she walked around the counter and hugged her mom tight. “Love you.”
“Oh, baby, I love you, too. It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”
Hours later, her stomach was still in knots. They were only a half hour away from boarding their flight to Paris. Paris! She should be excited about this. She’d always wanted to travel across Europe, and now she was doing it. Instead, she sighed in annoyance as her phone rang, again.
“Hey, baby doll. You ready to head to Paris?” Aiden’s smooth voice sounded as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Like jetting off to Paris was an everyday occurrence to him.
“I guess.”
He chuckled and a wave of irritation crashed down, making her eyes roll.
“So, I’ve got some news. It’s going to change things up for us a bit.”
Her eyebrows rose, curiosity mixed with dread in a disturbing cocktail. “Yes?”
“MTV wants to document our tour. They’re coming along with a camera crew.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. That meant zero privacy and excessive PDA with Aiden.
“You’ll have to play it up big time. They’ll want to catch us in intimate conversations and I’m sure they’ll be hoping for some kind of drama.”
“Great.” The sarcasm in her voice was hard to cover.
“Anyway, I needed you to know before you arrive. They’ll be meeting you at the airport with me. You and your crew will all need to sign releases.”
A sick feeling took hold in her stomach. Garrett was going to hate this. She hated this.
“I don’t want to do this anymore, Aiden.”
“Baby doll, we’re so close to getting where we want to be. The video is huge, the label is planning to announce your new album as soon as the tour is over. This is the home stretch. Stick it out a few more weeks and then it’ll be easy street.”
“I’ll have to talk to the guys about it first.”
“Look. Talk to them if you want, but just know, you’re the one getting Panic Station publicity. You’re the star. They shouldn’t have a problem with this. Not if they want to get to the top.”
With a heavy sigh, she hung up the phone and turned to face her bandmates.
“What? What’s with the face?” Garrett’s expression was suspicious.
“Oh, come on, Gare. That’s just her face.”
Angela couldn’t contain her laugh. Parker was always ready with a little comic relief.
“Aiden.”
Garrett cocked an eyebrow in question.
Parker’s face lit up. Garrett’s turned stony.
“Yes! I’m gonna be so freaking famous. Just look at these chiseled features.” Parker framed his face with his hands and pushed his lips into a sexy pout.
“You could at least be a part-time model.” Garrett smirked as he offered the backhanded compliment.
Parker laughed off the comment and stretched his legs out as they waited for their flight to board.
She couldn’t look at Garrett. She didn’t want to see if his anxiety mirrored hers, so she crossed the room and stood in front of the bank of windows that overlooked the tarmac.
His warmth invaded her space seconds later as he joined her. Shoulder-to-shoulder, they stared out at the planes, watching them taxi to and from the runway.
“This is going to be impossible,” he murmured.
A nod was all she could offer.
Chapter 27
Camera crews became their constant companions over the first week of the tour. They added an extra coating of pressure to be on all the time. Angela convinced herself every day that it didn’t bother her to be pretending with Aiden. That she was doing the right thing for everyone. She and Garrett each wore the stress in different ways. Unfortunately, his way of coping meant staying as clear of her as he could. It hurt.
She ran her nails along the strings of her guitar, equally loving and hating the sensation as the steel ridges of the coiled strings sent vibrations up her fingers.
Garrett was working with the drum tech, his gaze focused on the task at hand, never drifting to meet hers. Brows drawn and lips pulled into a frown as he listened intently to the tones of the snare, he looked like a brooding and dangerous rocker. His hair fell over his face and she had to fight back a sigh as he pushed at the wayward strands and his gaze landed on her. He threw her a wink paired with a sly grin, causing her to shift in her seat and look away.