“It would be fun to work together. But I want to meet the band before I commit.”
Twin rivers of relief and anxiety rolled through her. The meeting part was easy, but the guys were unpredictable. “You’ve got it.”
Within half an hour, Irisa had tracked down the guys and lined up a quick meeting for later in the afternoon, then bade Jayne goodbye.
A yawn overtook her. If she didn’t get some sleep, she’d be a useless zombie at the meeting. Her bed was a welcome oasis. Sounds continued erupting from the overhead rooms. She tucked in the earplugs she used when traveling, flopped onto the soft mattress, and hoped the band could hold themselves together long enough to convince Jayne to take the job.
CHAPTER TWO
The view from the top was quiet, private, and nothing like how his life had been over the past few years. Dom set the moving box on the floor, wincing over the pain in his hand and ribs, remnants of his on-field antics the day before, and stared at the bustling street seventeen stories below.
Late afternoon sunlight warmed his face. The scent of fresh paint tingled his nose. Wide, open rooms, far more than he needed, stretched out on either side of him. The pale walls were like a blank slate, washed clean. He needed that more than he needed anything.
“Hey, Dom, where did you want this?” Adam Hudson, his best friend and one of the Riptide’s starting pitchers, stood in the foyer holding a box filled with his baseball equipment.
Dom turned, knocking into the box by his feet. Shit. He didn’t want any of his old trophies to break. He pointed to the corner by the door. “There’s fine. I’ll be carting it to the ball park tomorrow anyway.”
“You know, you could’ve had the movers unpack this stuff for you.” With a smirk, Adam deposited the box on the floor.
“I figured this would be a good team-building activity.” Dom rolled his shoulders. His side hurt more than he wanted to let on. Squeezing in a move on the only day off they’d have for the next few weeks wasn’t his idea of a good time, but his friends had come through for him. They always did.
The movers had left a few hours earlier. His buddies had come over to help break in his game room, and ended up helping him unpack the stuff he hadn’t trusted the movers to touch. Even Slade had come. The first baseman sported a wrap bandage on his right hand and loaded sports memorabilia onto shelves.
“Guys, take a break. Let’s grab a beer.” Dom led the way into the kitchen.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway, accompanied by the skittering of dog paws on the floor. His Great Dane bounded to him, as excited as if they’d been separated for weeks, not minutes. He crouched and accepted the hundred and twenty pounds of happy dog barreling into him.
Liam York, the team’s mascot, strolled in behind him, whistling. “Dude. The view from the bedroom balcony is sick. I’d never come inside if I lived here.”
“I think Champ likes it, too.” Dom rubbed the dog’s head.
A balcony for each bedroom. One of the perks of the penthouse. Oversized rooms were another. Plenty of space for Champ to run around. The guys wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if they knew he’d chosen the apartment mainly because he’d thought the dog would be happy there. But maybe Fate rewarded his decision. The stunning woman struggling with her luggage in the lobby had been on his mind all day. He fully intended to get to know his new neighbor.
Adam handed him a bottle of beer. “Not much left to do except for unpacking a few more boxes.”
“I’ll order dinner. Pizza okay?”
“It’s not on the nutritionist’s diet plan, but what the hell?”
Slade grabbed the pizza place's menu from the counter. “If we add peppers and mushrooms, then it’s pretty much a salad, right?”
Liam snagged two beers from the fridge and handed one to Slade. "I'm glad I don't have to worry about that. One of the benefits of the shark costume."
"The other is that we don't have to look at your mug all game." Dom grinned and caught the bottle cap Liam winged at him.
“Whatever.”
Laughing, Dom punched in the pizza place’s number. Liam’s antics as Fin the Shark made him one of the most popular mascots in the league, and his penchant for getting under the opposing team’s skin made him as valuable as any player the Riptide had on the roster. Dom placed his order, extra peppers for Slade and extra pepperoni for Liam, then turned toward Adam. The pitcher had his own phone up to his ear, but pointed to the buffalo wings on the menu. Dom nodded and finished his order.
“I’ll be home soon…I love you, too.” The contentment on Adam’s face was too much to stomach. Being happy for his friends came naturally. But so did the nagging sensation he’d never find the unwavering support Adam’s wife, Gemma, gave so freely to her husband.
Whatever.
It didn’t matter.
He moved away to give Adam more privacy and joined Slade at the window. “How’s the hand? If you overdid it, I’m going to hear about it from the team.”
“I’m fine. Dusty was overreacting. Doc said I’ll miss a few days, maybe a week.”
To their left, Liam unearthed pull toys from a box and drew Champ’s attention. He joined in their conversation while he played and wrestled with the dog. Ripped jeans, sunburn, or dog slobber on his shirt, that guy never let anything faze him. Dom needed to take a lesson from Liam’s book. They’d been friends ever since Liam had approached him to meet with a terminally ill boy who’d been Dom’s biggest fan. Their outings with the boy—games at the ballpark, batting practice, and the All-Star Game—and, finally, the boy’s funeral had forged a deep bond between them.
With Liam keeping Champ occupied, Dom and the guys finished stowing away the rest of the items in his game room.
Chimes sounded from the speaker in the wall.
“That’s your buzzer? Geez, I need to upgrade where I live.” Slade shook his head and downed his beer.
“You should move here.” Having his buddy close by would help. No one could stay in a bad mood when Slade was around. Dom tapped the call button. “Yes?”
“Pizza man.”
“Come on up. The elevator’s at the end of the hall.” He depressed the button and dodged empty boxes and furniture on his way to the front door. It opened to a small hallway. Within five minutes, he had pizza on a plate and his friends around the table with him, lighting the room with their laughter and embellished stories.
Slade lifted his beer in toast. “To Opening Day tomorrow, and a winning season.”
“And to staying under management’s radar.” Dom drank deep. The beer cooled the dissatisfaction in his gut.
Adam clapped him on the shoulder. “One fight in Spring Training shouldn’t follow you around all season.”
“I’m counting on something else happening to take their focus off me. So if one of you wants to screw up huge, I’d appreciate it.” He set his bottle on the counter.
“Maybe Liam can get into a fight with the Bolts mascot tomorrow.” Slade grinned. “A shark versus a lightning bolt. I’m not sure who’d win.”
“Dude. You’d better bet on me.”
An hour later, the pizza had been devoured and his friends had gone home. Dom roamed from room to room, with Champ following behind. Energy pulsed through his system and his mind wouldn’t quiet. The first night in a new place could do that. But this had been going on far longer than one night. He needed a distraction.
The pub on the building’s main floor would at least drown out his thoughts for an hour. He settled Champ with fresh water and his favorite doggie bed, then changed out of sweat-stained clothes. A black t-shirt and jeans would work fine for blending in. He didn’t mind being recognized, but he definitely wasn’t an attention-seeker. A drink at the bar. Just a drink. Then he’d head to bed and will himself to sleep.
His private elevator meant never having to wait. He walked through the empty lobby and into a darkened, mostly empty pub. Low lights spotlighted a few areas. The place was perfect for privacy, perfect for
him. A dark-haired woman sat at one end of the bar, her back to him, chatting with the bartender. She tossed her head back and laughed. The musical sound brought a smile to his lips. He moved closer.
When he reached the bar, she turned and looked at him. His breath backed into his lungs. The woman from the lobby. Stunning. She had the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. Hazel eyes, straight nose, and full lips perfect for kissing. Lights teased shades of burgundy into brown hair hanging past her shoulders. Her yellow shirt hinted at her curves and showed off toned arms. Dark jeans hugged her legs. A gold necklace followed the scoop of her neckline, tempting his gaze to drop lower. He dragged it up and fought to pull fresh air into his system.
“Hi.” He managed to speak. Her scent, like flowers and springtime, beckoned him closer.
Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips, then back again. “Hello.”
The bartender thrust his hand across the bar. “I’m Steve. Welcome to the building. I saw you and the moving truck earlier today.”
“Thanks.” Dom accepted the handshake, but his attention was on the woman beside him.
“We met briefly this morning. I’m Irisa.”
The name suited her. “I remember. I’m Dom. Irisa’s a beautiful name.”
She smiled and his heartbeat increased. “It’s a unique one, anyway. This is a great place to live. Steve makes the best martinis.”
He glanced at the bright pink concoction in her hand. Rings adorning nearly every finger winked in the lights. “That’s not a martini.”
“Nope.” She took a sip and her tongue darted out to catch the drop lingering on her bottom lip. “I wanted something tropical to celebrate my vacation.”
Steve tapped the bar. “What’re you drinking, bud?”
“Whatever draft you have on tap is fine.” He didn’t care what he drank as long as he could sit next to her while he drank it. He slid onto a barstool and turned to her. “Vacation, huh?”
“First time off in five years.” Bracelets clanked together as she toyed with her straw.
“Long time.” What was wrong with him? All intelligent conversation, all the normal lines he’d say, disappeared. It was as though all his blood had drained south.
She smiled and sipped again. “Especially since it’s felt like ten.”
“That bad?” He accepted the glass Steve placed in front of him with a nod.
“Only lately. But enough about that.” She raised her glass. “I’m about to start my vacation and you’ve just moved in. Here’s to new beginnings.”
“New beginnings.” He clinked his glass with hers and held her gaze as he swallowed his beer.
Things were looking up.
Irisa set her drink on the bar. Not even half a glass in, and she already felt the buzz. But the buzz hadn’t hit until Dom sat beside her. Warmth radiated from him, tempting her to draw closer against the room’s air-conditioned chill. A sleep-deprived brain hadn’t allowed her to fully take in his looks that morning, but now, her up-close view revealed tan skin, lots of muscles, and brown hair tousled just enough for her fingers to itch to smooth it down. The man exuded confidence and threw off this crazy energy. Magnetizing. She’d know. Enough rock stars had it, too.
The way Dom was looking at her—like he’d rather devour her than the appetizer Steve set in front of them—set off feelings and desires she hadn’t allowed herself to have in over two years. Once burned, twice shy. Twice burned, and you closed your heart off for good.
Until now.
Dom slid a bill across the bar. Steve pushed it back. “Nope. On the house.”
“Thanks, man, but I can’t let you do that.” He pushed the bill at Steve again but the bartender held up his hands.
“I do it for all the new residents.”
“It’s true.” Irisa nodded. “He does it for me every time I come home.”
Dom frowned. “Every day?”
“Not every day.” She laughed, then paused. How to tell him what she never shared up front? “I travel a lot for work.”
“Sometimes I don’t see her for months.” Steve ran a bar towel over the polished wood, then headed to the opposite end of the bar.
“What do you do?” Dom’s beer sat, almost untouched. His full attention on her. God, how long had it been since she’d had a man’s undivided attention? Too long.
“Lately, it seems like I babysit a bunch of overgrown teenagers.” The band meeting she’d called to introduce everyone to Jayne hadn’t gone as planned. The band’s bickering had picked up right where it left off. Luke had spread his aggression, usually aimed at Zander, around evenly. Tempers flared, but she’d succeeded in smoothing the tension and convincing Jayne to sign on for the tour. For tonight, and hopefully for the foreseeable future, all was right with the band’s world.
She picked up her drink and took a long swallow of strawberry-flavored alcohol. The buzz of her phone’s vibration reached her ears. Private number. Only a handful of people had her number, and every one of them was programmed into her contact list. Private number could wait.
Steve came back and eyed Dom’s full glass. “Something wrong with the brew? Do you want something else?”
“I’m good, man. Enjoying the evening.” Dom smiled at her, and her stomach dipped.
Steve squinted and leaned over the bar. “Wait. You’re Dom Torres. Damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you without the Riptide cap on your head. Hell of a game yesterday. You did what you had to do against Platt.” He thrust out his hand again.
Dom shook it and shrugged. “I’m not looking forward to playing them next time, that’s for sure.”
“Well, good luck against the Bolts tomorrow. Opening Day’s finally here. The start of a fresh new season. I hope we go all the way.”
Irisa frowned, studying Dom’s profile. The Riptide were the city’s baseball team, and that was the extent of her knowledge. Zander rooted for them but she didn’t follow the sport at all. Still, his name was familiar. “You play for the team?”
A single dip of his head and a flicker of a smile accompanied his answer. “Center fielder.”
Steve pointed at him. “He’s the best. Nothing gets by him. You know, you two share a connection. The stadium plays “Cut Down” every time he comes up to bat.”
The Fury’s original number one hit. Finally, the fog over her memory lifted. “My brother mentioned he’d heard the song at the ballpark. I didn’t realize until now what he’d meant.” Zander had been really excited about it.
Dom nodded. “Some guys change their walk-up songs every so often, but I’ve had “Cut Down” for years. Awesome band.”
Steve grinned, as excited as a puppy, and pointed at her. “I’m sure Irisa could arrange for you to meet them.”
“Yeah?” Dom’s brows lifted and he turned to her. “You know someone who works for the band?”
She inhaled a slow breath. Resignation dulled the pull of attraction. “My brother—”
“Her brother’s Zander Rostov, and she’s the band’s manager.” Steve beamed a smile at her, then at Dom.
She tamped down her frustration as Steve walked to the opposite end of the bar. The bartender was excited, after all, and her job wasn’t exactly a secret. Not many fans of the band knew the band manager’s name, but once they learned of her connection… Too often, people feigned friendship in an effort to meet the band. Dom had seemed interested already, but she didn’t miss the way his smile ratcheted up several notches.
“No way.” Dom’s gaze remained locked on her face. “I love those guys. Haven’t had the chance to see them live yet, though.”
Pride for her brother won out over her discomfort. She gave him a genuine smile. “If you want to meet them, you’re in luck. They’re performing the national anthem at the ballpark in two weeks. It’s the game on the seventeenth, against the Rattlesnakes.”
He winked. “I’ll make sure I’m there.” His mischievous, almost wicked grin increased the warmth flowing through her core.
&n
bsp; Her phone’s display lit with Zander’s number. If he found out she was talking to Dom, he’d probably hop in his car and drive over. He was as exhausted as she and needed sleep. She ignored the call. “My brother’s a big Riptide fan.”
“Yeah? That’s cool. We’ll have to meet up after the game.” He paused and his gaze dropped to her lips. It lingered for a long moment before returning to her eyes. “You’ll be there too, right?”
“Of course.” The event officially kicked off their label’s spring concert series tour. She needed to do all she could to make sure the tour was a success.
Dom shifted closer. “So, he’s a fan, but you aren’t? Or do you root for a different team?”
“I don’t really follow sports.” Her phone’s display lit up a third time. Zander again. She sighed. “Excuse me, I have to take this.” Turning away from Dom, she swiped her thumb across the screen. “What’s up?”
“Luke’s been arrested for boating under the influence.”
“Boating under the influence?” Her stomach hardened into a knot. “What happened? You weren’t with him, were you?”
“No way. I’m still pissed at the shit he pulled earlier today. He called me from the police station. I don’t know why he didn’t call you.”
Damn it. The private number. “Is he okay? Was there an accident? Did he get hurt?”
“I didn’t think to ask.” He swore under his breath, then sighed. “Anyhow, they won’t release him till the morning.”
“All right. I’ll contact them.” She grabbed a pen and wrote the number Zander rattled off on a cocktail napkin. Could Luke’s timing be any worse? She didn’t know how the charges differed from drunk driving. Fines, court dates, time served, press releases, interviews, and rescheduled shows all swirled in her head.
She slammed her phone onto the bar. So much for having everything under control. As soon as the news leaked, she’d have the label breathing down her neck and possibly sponsorships canceled.
“Bad news?” Dom’s voice brought her back to her surroundings.
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