“Is…is this like a real ice cream bar?” she asked, carefully circling the two-seat counter at the far end of the room.
Smiling, Riley slowly strolled over. “It is. If you walk around to the other side, you’ll see it has three cooler slots. It may not be exciting, but I keep the basics in there—vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry.” He saw her checking it all out.
“And the refrigerator underneath?” She stopped and opened it before straightening and looking at him. “Can we seriously make milk shakes in here?”
Riley nodded. “Sure can. There are cones down there too if you’d prefer one.”
“Oh no,” she said quickly. “Milk shakes are my favorite.” Savannah looked around the room again. “Okay, I think I’ve got it.”
No doubt she had worked out what she wanted to do and in what order. “Let’s make milk shakes and then play some pinball. I haven’t done that in years.”
“Works for me.”
“And then, maybe after we’re done with our dessert, we can play Ping-Pong?”
“Care to make it interesting?”
If Riley didn’t know any better, he’d swear she was instantly intrigued. “Go on,” she said.
“I’m all for starting out like you said. But when we get to the Ping-Pong table, we do maybe a best of three.”
She shrugged. “What does the winner get?”
Now that was a loaded question, he thought. Saying “whatever they want” was too obvious so he had to give it a minute’s thought. “After the third game, if you win…”
“Then no questions are off limits!” she quickly said, sounding excited.
It wasn’t ideal but Riley knew he could work with it. “Only for that day,” he countered. “And if I win?” He waited to see if Savannah had any suggestions, when she simply shrugged he said, “I’ll need to think on that one. Is that all right?”
“It’s fine,” she said confidently. “You’re not going to need anything because I am going to kick your butt. I am so good at Ping-Pong!”
He didn’t agree or disagree. No need to get her riled up about it. For now, he’d let her think she had a chance to win. Afterward, when he was the winner, he’d share with her how he grew up with four brothers and how they used to spend hours out in the garage playing the game. Poor girl. He almost felt sorry for her.
“I already know the question I’m going to ask!” she taunted.
“Okay, good. You hold that thought while we make these milk shakes,” he said mildly.
Within minutes they each had frosty mugs in their hands and were laughing over the music playing on the pinball machine.
When it was Savannah’s turn, he stood back and realized he was having fun. Honest-to-goodness fun. When the hell was the last time he had just relaxed with someone and did something like this? Normally he only did that with his family. Savannah might be the first new person in years Riley had let his guard down with.
He had friends. Tons of them. But he had a feeling some of them were only hanging around because of who—or what—he was. It happened all the time. It wasn’t just him. It was one of the pitfalls of fame. People aren’t necessarily honest about why they’re with you or why they want to hang out with you. Most of the time it didn’t matter—a good time was a good time and the more the merrier. But after driving around with Savannah last night and now hanging out with her today? Riley was going to have a hard time dealing with the fakers and the hangers.
Hard to believe that so much was already changing in the short time he’d known her.
Beside him, she screeched happily and jumped up and down. “Yes! I just tripled my score! You just try to beat that, Shaughnessy!” Then she twirled by him and picked up her mug and took a long sip from her straw. She was flushed and beautiful and…and he stepped up to the pinball machine before he did something stupid.
By the time they finished one game on the machine, they were each done with their drinks, and Riley could see Savannah was anxious to get over to the Ping-Pong table. He collected their glasses and put them in the sink by the ice cream bar and then made his way over to the table. She was practically bouncing on her toes as he approached.
“You sure you’re not too full for this?” Riley asked, grinning.
Savannah was tossing her paddle from hand to hand as she chuckled. “I am more than ready to play. Sounds to me like you’re a little nervous about it. Could it be you’re not as strong of a player as you claim to be?”
Oh…she was going to taunt him, was she?
“Sweetheart, I think you should be careful what you say right now,” he teased.
“Oh, really? And why is that?”
“Because I would hate for you to be embarrassed later.” Reaching for a ball, he tossed it over to her. “Ladies first.”
“I hope you’re ready to pour your heart out, sweetheart,” she said, bouncing the ball several times, “because the question I have planned for you may require one of those couches you find in a therapist’s office.”
She was adorable, he thought.
“Bring it.”
“Game on!”
* * *
He didn’t just beat her in the best of three.
Oh, no. That would have been too easy.
No, Savannah—who realized too late that she was a very sore loser—kept egging him on until he finally put the paddle down after beating her in twelve games. Twelve! Why did she have to keep taunting him? Even while they were playing she couldn’t make herself ask him anything important. They talked about useless stuff—favorite bands, favorite foods—hell, at one point she’d even asked him his favorite color.
She hung her head low in defeat and put her paddle on the table. Riley had excused himself and went to get them each a drink. She prayed it was vodka. Something to make her forget this humiliation.
His prize at the end of the first three games was that she’d stay and have dinner with him.
After the next three she’d stay for a movie.
She really thought she was going to beat him in the third round. Unfortunately, it had been her biggest loss, and he’d simply chuckled and said he’d have to think about his reward. And he’d repeated that after the fourth and final win.
Riley cleared his throat when he walked back into the room and handed her a glass of ice water. They drank in silence for a few minutes. “That was fun,” he finally said, and Savannah realized he wasn’t being obnoxious and he wasn’t gloating. He genuinely looked like he’d had a good time.
And despite all the losing, Savannah would have to agree. It was fun.
“How do you feel about salmon for dinner?”
“It’s one of my favorites,” she said and was relieved he wasn’t gloating.
“It’s kind of early yet. Maybe we can watch a movie first?”
That was a reasonable request, and she agreed. Together they picked out a classic Neil Simon movie from 1967, Barefoot in the Park. “Ooo…Robert Redford.” She sighed. “Another favorite.”
Tucked away in a corner was one of the biggest flat-screen TVs Savannah had ever seen. Riley noticed her stunned look. “It’s one hundred ten inches. They don’t come any bigger than this right now. The picture’s great too.”
Two oversized recliners were centered in front of the screen and they each sat down. Riley started the movie and within minutes Savannah was more relaxed and they were both laughing along with the story.
She kicked her sandals off and tucked her feet up on the chair beside her. Next she pulled the clip out of her hair so she could relax her head against the back of the comfortable chair. Looking to her right, she saw Riley was watching her. His expression was intense and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. “Is everything okay?”
He didn’t answer right away.
“Riley?”
“I st
ill have to decide what I get for winning those last two rounds,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
Savannah nodded, hypnotized by the way his eyes had gone so dark.
“I’m going to combine them into one request,” he said, and it sounded more like a warning than a statement.
“Okay.” Her own voice was almost a breathy whisper.
Leaning closer, Riley’s eyes zeroed in on her lips before meeting her eyes. “Savannah?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m going to kiss you. Twice.”
“Oh.”
His hand snaked out and around her nape and slowly drew her closer to him. And then his lips touched hers and Savannah’s brain simply stopped functioning.
Chapter 4
Cherished.
There was no other way Savannah could possibly describe how she felt right now. Even though Riley had told her what he was going to do, she wasn’t prepared for the reality of it. And really, there was no way to prepare for something like this.
It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t heated and frantic.
She sighed.
Riley’s hands slowly came up and skimmed across her cheeks before combing into her hair. His lips were softer than she would have imagined, and he seemed in no hurry to do more than lazily explore her lips.
It was a heady feeling.
Before she knew it, her hands were inching their way up his arms and stopped when they got to his wrists. He was hard and muscled and if it were up to her, Savannah would gladly stay locked like this forever. They sipped at one another—gently teasing and tasting. It was something she’d never done before—never bothered to take the time to merely enjoy the act of kissing.
With this one kiss it was possible Riley Shaughnessy had ruined her for any other man. She’d dated plenty in her life, but no one had ever kissed her like this. And she had a feeling no one else ever would.
Should she argue? Tell him this was more than two kisses? This wasn’t part of the plan. Kissing Riley had never been part of any plan. Ever. How was she supposed to ever look him in the eye and ask him any questions when from this point forward, all she’d want is for him to kiss her again?
Riley must have sensed her sudden anxiety because he took one last taste and lifted his head. Not far, just enough to rest his forehead against hers. Savannah swallowed hard and had to fight the urge to pull his lips back to hers.
“Wow.” He sighed.
Yeah…that was pretty much the only thing she could think of to describe what they’d just done.
It couldn’t happen again. She had a job to do. An important job that was going to give her a cover story, and no kissing—no matter how damn spectacular it was—was going to get in the way of that. Although once she opened her eyes and forced herself to look at Riley, she could barely remember why the article was so important.
Focus!
Savannah forced the lust-fog to lift and cleared her throat. “Um…I think I should go.”
Riley’s hands were still in her hair and he gently massaged her scalp before letting his hands slowly move away. “You promised me dinner and a movie. Actually, you owe me dinner and a movie.” His voice was soft and teasing and as much as she hated to admit it, it made her relax.
“I can’t stay if you’re going to do that again,” she said honestly.
“What? Kiss you?”
She nodded.
Pulling back, Riley got himself resituated in his seat and sighed. “That’s fine. I can do that.” He looked at the TV screen. “Oh good. We haven’t missed the telephone scene.” Then he reached for his water and took a sip.
Savannah could only stare. That was it? No arguing? No persuading her that it wasn’t a big deal or that it might or might not happen again? She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or really pissed off. Beside her, Riley laughed at something happening on the screen.
Pissed. She was definitely pissed.
Shifting away from him, Savannah did her best to get comfortable and focus on the movie, but it took longer than she cared to admit.
Why would he kiss her?
And why didn’t he seem fazed about it not happening again?
Oh crap! Was she a bad kisser? No doubt a man like him had probably kissed hundreds, if not thousands, of women. Was she so bad at it that he was fine—if not relieved—if it never happened again?
And really, why was she obsessing about this? She’d gotten her way without any argument. So fine, maybe she might not have minded another chance to kiss him again. And maybe it wouldn’t be that big a deal or have any influence on her ability to be professional and write an unbiased story about him.
Glancing over at Riley, she saw he was engrossed in the movie. Inwardly, she sighed. This was for the best.
And maybe if she said it enough, she just might believe it.
* * *
It was after ten when Savannah left. Riley had watched her drive away before going back into the house and then right out to the back deck.
The city was almost hypnotic to him at this time of day. With a bottle of water, he sat on one of the chaise lounges and thought about the day. When he’d called Savannah that morning and invited her over, he’d never imagined things going quite like they had. He’d figured they’d eat, they’d talk, and Savannah would lay out how she expected this interview to go. Riley knew he would have argued a point or two just on principle, but eventually they would have a schedule ironed out.
Once business was out of the way, he had figured on them simply spending some time getting to know one another. Playing games, sharing two meals, watching a movie, and kissing her were never part of the plan.
Well, in his fantasy, kissing her was always a plan, but he hadn’t planned on acting on the impulse any time soon.
Especially not this soon.
Cursing himself, Riley slouched down. Self-control was never an issue. He was the king of it. While he would never claim to be a saint, in the world of rock and roll, he almost was. He’d slept with his share of women, but he’d never understood the allure of one-night stands and sex with strangers. Personally, he preferred a relationship. He enjoyed sharing a bed with a woman who was interested in who he was and not what he did for a living.
Yeah, sometimes being a rock star sucked.
Not that he’d openly admit it. And really, he was surprised that no one in the media had caught on to the fact he wasn’t a serial dater or partier. If anyone really knew that he preferred being at home reading a good book or hanging out with a couple of friends over going to bars and sleeping with a string of groupies, no doubt he’d be the laughingstock of the music world.
Of course with Savannah hanging around for the next month, she’d probably catch on to that fact about him. “One bridge at a time,” he murmured.
Right now Riley had to cross that first bridge—facing Savannah tomorrow as if she hadn’t blown his mind tonight with a kiss. They’d gone on to finish the movie and dinner. She’d managed to convince him not to cook and instead order a pizza. He was fine with it and they’d opted to eat in the game room while watching another movie.
For the most part, Riley felt he’d pulled off a casual, blasé attitude—acting as if it wasn’t a big deal that he’d kissed her and that she’d asked him not to do it again. The reality was that his mind was screaming at him to do it again.
He chuckled. And for as cool as Savannah tried to play it, he knew she was just as affected as he was by the whole thing, and telling him not to kiss her again wasn’t what she really wanted. He wondered if she realized how her eyes gave her away. One look at them after he’d raised his head and Riley knew she was panicking—no doubt worrying about the nature of their professional relationship now that he’d crossed the line.
Well, maybe not crossed but he was certainly teetering on the edge of it.
H
onestly, he wasn’t trying to sabotage the interview. He’d simply been fighting the urge to touch her, kiss her since they’d met. So he’d acted on it. It wasn’t a crime and as far as kisses went, it was relatively chaste.
And it just made him wonder how she’d react if he had kissed her the way he had really wanted to. Hell, if it were up to him, he’d still be kissing her now.
No dinner.
No movies.
And no sending her home.
He groaned. How the hell was he supposed to survive a month of this if he was already this hot and bothered on the first day? How was he supposed to maintain control over what was put into this article when he wanted to give Savannah everything she wanted? Anything she asked for?
It was too late to call anyone, and really, if he called Owen once more in such a short period of time, he’d probably send Owen into some kind of panic attack and then he’d feel guilty and have to go see him.
He sat up straight as an idea hit him.
It wasn’t ideal but it would serve a purpose. It was quite possibly the only way Riley could guarantee he and Savannah would get the interview done in a manner that would work for them both. Because if today was any indication, having the two of them locked in his house alone was a recipe for disaster. Okay, maybe not disaster, but it was certainly a recipe for sexual frustration.
Standing up, he stretched. Decision made. Tomorrow he’d make the calls and make sure everyone would be on board. And then he’d present it to Savannah.
He sighed and prayed she’d go for it. Looking out over the city, he said, “Brace yourself, Savannah Daly. I’m taking you home to meet the family.”
* * *
“Wait…what?” Savannah slowly sat down on the sofa in Riley’s living room the next day, certain she had misunderstood pretty much everything he’d just said. “I don’t think I understand.”
Not that it was anything new—ever since she’d shown up here thirty minutes earlier, her brain had refused to focus on anything except for Riley’s mouth. She’d asked him to repeat himself several times already but this was the first time she had genuinely heard what he said but was confused by it.
This Is Our Song Page 7