Finding Her Rhythm (Backstage Pass Series)

by Wade, Dani

The wives and girlfriends all seemed to know each other and mingled accordingly. A few spectacular “eye candy” additions kept things lively, while the male contingent indulged in masculine posturing or outrageous games in the pool.

  Taylor felt completely intimidated and out of her element.

  Oh, she could handle the men any day—after all, she was used to spending hours with barely civilized teens. These guys were nothing but overgrown kids.

  The women, on the other hand, were hard to get a hold on. As was always the case with groups, they gravitated toward the ones they knew, and breaking into those little cliques wasn’t a comfortable endeavor. Finding something in common might be a bigger challenge with a select few, which made the approach that much harder.

  So she’d fallen back into the “housekeeping” role, even though Michael had told her not to do a thing except enjoy herself. But if restocking drinks and fetching towels made her feel more comfortable, then that was enjoying herself, right?

  Michael hadn’t given any indication exactly what her role was with him—he didn’t boss her around like an employee, didn’t touch or defer to her like a lover. She knew what she wanted to be—had made her decision during the lonely hours of the night. But she had no idea how to let him know. That was way outside of her experience.

  Their interactions were more along the friend category, but always with an undertone of possibilities…and the possibilities were killing her.

  “This crew can be a little overwhelming, huh?”

  Taylor turned toward the woman who had managed to sneak up on her while she was quietly freaking out. The stylish, self-possessed redhead inspired a smile with her natural charisma. Michael had introduced her as Becca, their publicist aka wrangler, upon her arrival.

  It was easy to see how Becca had gravitated toward her career. She’d put Taylor at ease immediately and could work a crowd without breaking a sweat.

  Taylor watched as Scooter picked up a squealing Roxie and tossed her, cover-up and all, into the pool. She emerged from the water with laughter on her face, her spiky blonde hairstyle standing on end. At least she was a happy woman…if she’d just put on more clothes.

  “Yeah, this is definitely not Kansas anymore.”

  Becca chuckled. “Sometimes, you can feel like the only sane one in the crowd.”

  Taylor turned her eyes away from the sexy striptease Roxie was doing to get out of her wet clothes, and focused on Becca’s “girl next door” facade that didn’t jive with her knowing look. “You sound familiar with the feeling.”

  Becca tossed her a knowing look. “Trust me, my parents were actors. We had creative types in and out of the house all the time—but musicians are far, far rowdier than most.”

  “Well, it’s definitely different than the youth-group pool parties I attended as a teenager.”

  Becca’s turquoise eyes widened a touch; then her laughter belted out full force. “I’d say so.”

  As they watched the antics across the pool in silence, Taylor reflected on just how true her statement was, and yet, in some ways there was no difference at all. She still felt the same awkwardness she had as a teenager, that inane desire to keep covered because her body was bigger than those around her. But a deep-seated need to flaunt something a man would appreciate remained. She was like a kid poised on the edge of the high dive, too afraid to take the plunge.

  “How did you become Solar Uprising’s publicist?” Taylor asked. “I hope I’m not rude in saying you look a little young. In a good way.” Great, the one person who was friendly and Taylor had to insult her. Which just led to more babbling. “Not that I’m criticizing. You’ve obviously done a great job, considering their success.”

  Becca waved away her concerns. “I’m not insulted at all. Actually I am young for the job, but Michael had a lot of faith in me and convinced the band to give me a chance. He knew my parents, knew I had a lot of contacts—both in the music and entertainment industries—and thought a lot of those contacts would go out of their way to help me build a name for myself and them.” She grinned. “Much as I resented the implication, he was right. I just don’t tell him that.”

  “Did your parents mind that you went into the publicity business?”

  “My mother was thrilled, and she got to go with me to see Solar Uprising win a Grammy before she died.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Me too.” Becca smiled with a mixture of sadness and light. “But she lived a full life that she was very proud of. I only hope I can accomplish half as much in my lifetime.”

  “And your dad?”

  “Well, I can’t say he’s thrilled with me hanging out with this crew all the time—” Becca gestured toward Roxie and another cohort rubbing against their dates in the pool. “But we agree to disagree and he supports me in my efforts—and secretly brags about me to his friends.”

  Taylor chuckled. “Secretly?”

  “Yeah, they tell me all about it, but he pretends it doesn’t happen. The principle of the thing.”

  Becca sounded like she enjoyed the little game. Taylor remembered her own “traditions” with her father, but for once the sting of her loss was muted by memories of the good times. “Sounds like a great relationship,” she said.

  “It is. I’m very lucky.” Becca turned a solemn gaze toward Taylor and lowered her voice so it wouldn’t carry. “You know, I’ve been friends with Daniel and Michael for years now, and I’ve seen a lot of women come through their lives.”

  Taylor swallowed, not sure if she liked where this conversation might be going. “Yes?”

  “Don’t worry,” Becca said with a grin. “I’m not going to bite. As a matter of fact, I think you just might be the one to keep Michael down-to-earth.”

  “I’m not sure if he needs that,” Taylor said, remembering a dark night and the lonely sound of his guitar. My arms wouldn’t be empty, My heart would be full…

  “Michael’s a little different than the others. Having the kids, and being the only reliable parent they have, gives him a more serious outlook on life. I like to think, secretly, he’s been searching for someone to settle down with.”

  Taylor clamped a lid on her excitement before it could even make a peep. She wasn’t betting on a forever after with Michael Korvello. He might enjoy the home she was building with the kids, she might provide an option for safe sexual encounters close to home, but one day he was going to walk back out that door to be the rock star he was born to be. And a girl like her would be left in the dust.

  So why was she thinking about starting something she knew would come to such a hard end?

  Becca’s next words echoed her thoughts.

  “Don’t let them fool ya,” Becca said. “Michael’s a great guy, but he doesn’t exactly have a ‘white-picket-fence’ lifestyle. Take care of yourself.”

  She turned at the rebel yells that erupted from the vicinity of the doors to the house. Daniel and Michael ran across the decorative concrete to cannonball into the pool.

  They surfaced with whoops and hollers until one of the band members yelled, “Chicken fight!”

  Becca wasted no time getting to her feet. “That would be my cue to exit. The annual chicken fight is definitely not my scene.” She strode toward the locker rooms, leaving Taylor to face the music.

  She turned a wide-eyed gaze toward the rest of the party, which was rapidly dividing itself by groups of two. Even the teenagers. Her stomach started to churn, faster and faster, like a merry-go-round gaining speed.

  She stayed put, sort of an “if I’m very still, no one will notice me” move. After all, no one had so far. But she should have known her luck would run out.

  Not two minutes later Michael detached himself from the group and swam in her direction. Oh, that hot dog had been a mistake. She just might puke in the pool.

  No. No no no. Please don’t make me do this. The last thing she wanted was for Michael Korvello to try to lift her. She could just imagine the stoic grunt as he realize
d just how much she weighed. Not to mention having to do it in front of a handful of women shaped like twigs. With boobs, of course.

  His head lifted above the water with slick grace, the wetness somehow deepening the smoky blue of his eyes. “I need a partner, Taylor.”

  She swallowed hard. “No, thanks.”

  “Come on. You wouldn’t leave me hangin’, would ya?”

  Her expression must have showcased some of her “you bet I would, mister” sentimentality, because the laughter in his ramped up. “Come on. Just a friendly game of chicken.” His emphasis on the word notated his challenge.

  Just like he challenged her every day. Drawing her out, coaxing her to take the leap. But this time she had fear of taking her towel off in front of thirty-some-odd people on her side.

  “Not happening.” She shook her head to drive her point home.

  Above the slosh of people in the pool, a voice suddenly rang out. “I thought you said she was a cool nanny?”

  A quick glance revealed the teens looking her way, and not a single soul left out of the pool, except one woman wrangling two toddlers.

  And her.

  So much for outgrowing peer pressure. Her “okay” got everyone back to their preparations and their eyes off her, thank God. But not Michael’s.

  He watched with a raised brow as she stood next to her lounger. Her legs shook with the desire to run back to the locker rooms and hide. How could she possibly do this? But some teeny-tiny spark inside insisted she could ramp up that sexy glint in his eyes.

  Fake it till you make it.

  Sucking in her stomach, she let the towel drop to reveal her new swimsuit. His gaze traveled down the teal one-piece with interest, lingering where it dipped low over her cleavage. Turning, she draped her towel over her lounger. A totally unnecessary maneuver, but his quick intake of breath told her he’d seen the heart-shaped cutout right over the dimples at the small of her back.

  Did he like them?

  Remembering when those dimples had been the subject of ridicule rather than an intimate secret between lovers, she approached Michael with a touch of caution. When she was within a few steps of him, he breathed, “Damn, woman.”

  Ah, victory.

  A few deep breaths got her through the indignity of climbing onto Michael’s muscled shoulders. Thankfully he didn’t moan or stumble over her weight. The only thing that eased her self-consciousness was the feel of his wet skin against hers. His hands warming as they curled around her thighs. The flex of his arms as he balanced her securely.

  Oh, she was so going to hell for her thoughts.

  Luckily no one else seemed to be paying her any attention as one of the men yelled, “Ready. Set. Go!”

  She fought to keep her balance as the free-for-all ensued. Then she unabashedly clamped her thighs around Michael’s neck and held on for dear life. They both laughed so hard that she was distracted from the overt sexual nature of her position.

  They weren’t the last couple standing, but they made it into the top five, at least. McKayla and the sixteen-year-old boy who was dazzled to have her on his shoulders came out the winners.

  Matthew complained, “They just went easy on you because you’re a girl.” Didn’t matter that any number of “girls” now littered the pool with dripping wet hair.

  But Taylor would never forget the final push that sent her falling into the water, bending Michael back with her. He’d released her with ease and was quick to pull her up and out of the way of flailing limbs and laughing people. In the midst of the chaos they’d stood for long moments, bodies touching, eyes locked, until the winners were finally determined.

  The signal came naturally then. Holding his gaze, she nestled closer, letting her hands find his hips through the wet swim trunks he wore.

  Even if the piercing look in his eyes hadn’t clued her in, the hard erection pressed against her belly would have. She had a feeling Michael’s days of waiting had just come to an end.

  * * *

  Michael stalked back into the house after waving the last guest off into the inky-black night. Seeing everyone outside of work had been fun, but now he needed one thing, one thing only. He just had to find the woman who would meet his needs head-on.

  He would make sure of it.

  As he tracked back through the kitchen, he felt like a lion hunting his prey. Desire roared through his consciousness with single-minded intent. Need pounded in his brain. Now he would have her.

  No Taylor to be seen as he did a final walk through the downstairs, turning off lights and locking doors. The security system was alert and secure. The kids had hung out with the adults long after the last teenager left, and had finally wandered off to their rooms around midnight. He hoped they were exhausted. Tomorrow they left for his former mother-in-law’s house for the annual two week visit before school started back. He’d spend a few days there with them, then return home.

  Where he’d have Taylor all to himself.

  Checking over the family room, he shut down the gas logs in the fireplace and made the rounds to turn off all the lamps. The guitars they’d been playing went back into their cases. He’d move them out to the studio in the morning.

  Where was that woman? Had she scuttled back to her bedroom, her courage waning? Had she thought he would forget? Not a chance. He’d made his intentions pretty clear today, and he would keep every unspoken promise.

  After he’d bound her to him, body and mind, then he’d learn all her secrets. The way he felt right now, there wouldn’t be a single place to hide.

  Just as he reached for the last lamp, he heard a rustle on the balcony above. A slight smile curved his lips. There she was.

  Clicking the light off, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the moonlight streaming in from the windows, then mounted the stairs. She hovered in the far shadows, inching toward the doorway as if she’d suddenly changed her mind. Thigh-length, silky material flirted over her skin, enticing him forward.

  “Stop.”

  She froze. He prowled forward, crowding her against the wall, surrounding her with his heat. Her long, slow inhale urged him even closer, back to where they’d left off.

  One more time—only this time, it would end the way he wanted.

  Her hands reached for his biceps, then curled in retreat. Escape wasn’t an option tonight. Of their own volition, his hands buried themselves into the thick mass of her hair, soft and springy against his fingers. One touch and the pain, the loneliness that sat like a stone in his gut melted away.

  He steered her gaze up to his. Gentle but firm. She wouldn’t hide from him tonight.

  “I want you, Taylor.”

  Those long, thick lashes dropped. Her last chance to shield herself. “We shouldn’t do this,” she whispered.

  His grip tightened, massaging against her scalp in a motion that drained the tension from her body. “No more shoulds,” he said. His palms slid down to cup the smooth skin of her cheeks. “Tell me you want this.”

  For several seconds she remained silent, the only sound in the room the quickening of her breath. Then those incredible green eyes met his and she swayed toward him. “Yes,” she whimpered, “oh yes.”

  It was everything he wanted to hear.

  Despite the urgency pounding through his body, he slowly leaned forward to take her lips. Soft, smooth skin eased his ache while ramping up his arousal. Like candy, her taste urged him to lick, suck, and nibble in order to consume. Holding the rest of his body under strict control, he joined them at the mouth, compelling her lips to part, her tongue to play with his. The moist slide of sensation was like coming home after a long stretch on the road. He groaned as her fingers dug into his arms, her body arching toward his as she gave free rein to her own need.

  Retreating inch by reluctant inch, he spoke into the darkness. “No more waiting, Taylor.”

  The loosening of her muscles told him her resistance was melting away. Oh, he knew her rhythm, knew what she needed, and he intended to play every note.
Bending, he lifted her high against his chest. Her whimper of distress made him smile. Eventually, he’d wash every last worry about her weight from her mind—at least, when it came to him and what he wanted.

  Every last, curvy inch.

  The hallway to his room had never seemed longer, but finally the door was closed and they were alone. He lowered her feet to the floor, giving her a minute to find her balance. Then he clicked the lock into place, holding her gaze with a deliberation that spoke volumes about his intent. She didn’t quail. Her eyes widened, the bright color absorbing every ounce of dim light until he couldn’t look away.

  His body urged him to hurry, which made his self-control much more powerful. The first time.

  Two fingers. That’s all he touched her with. They hooked under the thin strap of her nightgown, rubbing back and forth as he eased it slowly over the curve of her shoulder to fall against her arm. Just the barest brush of skin against skin had the blood pounding through his veins, centering in his cock until he thought he would explode.

  The other strap received the same treatment, causing gooseflesh to pebble along her skin. Her excitement shot a thrill through him, the adrenaline akin to the rush of a live performance.

  Despite the lack of support, the material remained stretched across those magnificent breasts. His mouth had been watering all day, with every glimpse of them cupped so tightly in her new swimsuit. The only part she hadn’t seemed self-conscious exposing.

  His body had been embarrassingly grateful.

  But before he could dive into that heavenly gift, they had to get one thing straight. “Taylor?”

  “Hmmm?” Her murmur was distracted, as if she didn’t quite process the language.

  He tipped her chin up so he could see those gorgeous green eyes. Even in the rush of desire, he couldn’t ignore the past. Someone had made her very afraid. Fear would never be a part of what they had together. “Taylor, promise me.”

  That caught her attention. “What?”

  “Promise me, no matter what we do together, that you’ll tell me if I ever hurt you.”

  Those eyes widened, something achingly hopeful moving through them. “Yes, Michael. I promise.”