Lovestruck (Rock Goddess Reverse Harem Book 1)

by Romy Lockhart

  Lovestruck

  Romy Lockhart

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Author’s Note

  Chapter One

  * * *

  EDEN

  Sitting on the floor of my recording studio, guitar across my legs and a stack of blank sheet music paper by my side, I realize I’ve been staring into space for the last twenty minutes. The expression on Logan’s face when I’d told him I was leaving L.A. is still torturing me. He’d wanted to spill out the contents of his heart, and I’d slammed the door on him before he could.

  My heart had pounded violently in that charged moment. I’d waited with my breath held to find out if he’d fight for me, or just let me leave. Messed up, I know. The peephole showed me he was still outside, but he seemed conflicted. Good. So was I.

  It was a complicated situation. My recent break-up with the bad boy of rock, Hunter, had been a long time coming. The mounting chemistry with Logan, my closest bodyguard, had always been a source of tension, though Hunter had never once accused me of anything. I hadn’t realized until I found out Hunter had been screwing one of his back-up singers that it wasn’t because he trusted me, but because he didn’t care. He’d never really loved me. I’d been naïve. I’d been tricked into a fairy tale romance where the monster of the piece was actually the prince all along.

  I watched Logan battle with himself outside of my apartment for a good ten minutes. He paced in slow circles, grabbing at his dark blond hair, shaking his head and blowing out expletives under his breath. I could have opened the door, could have saved him from this torture. I didn’t, and I might never know why.

  I’m not sure when it happened, but for my eight years in the business he’d been at my side almost 24-7 and I’d fallen hard, deep. I’d treasured every moment together. I’d obsessed over what to get him when his birthday was coming up. I’d had dreams about wrapping myself around that impressive body of his and never letting go.

  Yet, I’d fired him on the spot exactly two months after I split with Hunter. I’d bought a house back in my home town, Rapture, on the down low, that I was planning on moving into in the morning, and I wasn’t even battling my conscience over leaving him like this. Something was stopping me. I didn’t get it, but I supposed maybe I wasn’t over the pain of wasting almost seven years of my life on a man who’d probably screwed every woman he came across when my back was turned.

  If Logan had refused to leave when I’d fired him, I would have opened up to him. If he’d admitted how he felt, there was no way I could have said no to my own feelings. I wasn’t sure why he had to be the one to make the move. I’d told myself it was self-preservation, but something else was nagging at me. Something I couldn’t put my finger on.

  He was nothing like Hunter. I knew him better than to think that for even one second.

  Still, I couldn’t open the door.

  It’s been a week since I let him walk away, and I’m still stuck on that moment. I should be able to pull a song out of that twisted little memory alone. Hell, I should be able to pull a whole album out of it. Yet, I couldn’t. The thought of even poking at that wound just made me want to curl up in a ball on the floor and cry my eyes out.

  Sighing, I give up on writing for the day, yet again. I’ve been blocked for months and that isn’t going to change anytime soon. Nothing has changed. I don’t know why I keep expecting to suddenly be able to write again. Truth is, I don’t know what else to do with my time. I’ve been Eden Rose Masterson, Rock Goddess, for too long. I don’t know who I am anymore under all the leather and lace, away from the skin-warming spotlights, the roar of a crowd and the camaraderie of spending months on a tour bus with musicians and like-minded souls.

  I put my Gibson back into its case and lock it up. I leave the notebook on the floor, and I get out of the room. I decide not to go back in there until the spark of creation comes back to me. It feels like a dangerous decision. What if it never comes back?

  I’d expected the move away from L.A. to help me heal faster. In the City of Angels too many things reminded me of how stupid I’d been giving my heart to a man-whore, and how confusing it had been to push away a good man I had strong feelings for, someone I knew for certain loved me back.

  I need to find some patience. I suppose it’s only been a week. I haven’t given coming home a chance yet, not really.

  Going into the kitchen, I try to find something else to think about. Keeping to a mundane routine most of the time has helped. Working out in the mornings and preparing complex recipes to use up my afternoons has stopped me from mourning the lack of company. But I’m beginning to feel like a robot. I need something to break me out of this rut I’m falling into.

  I pick up my purse and head out. It’s time to explore what Rapture has to offer.

  Chapter Two

  * * *

  ASHER

  Eden’s arrival back in town had taken everyone by surprise. I’d always hoped she’d come back, but truthfully, I’d already accepted that she was the one that got away. A girl I’d been head over heels with in high school, and one who’d said yes to the football team captain before I’d gotten the chance to ask her out. All right, in complete honesty, it was before I’d gotten the nerve built up to do it.

  Can you really blame a guy? Even before she got famous, she was beautiful. She’s always had that ethereal quality that seems to act as a gravitational pull to every man who gets close. Of course, it helps that she has the body of a goddess and the sultry voice of a rock singer.

  It feels like the hand of fate when she walks in to my library two days after word had spread around town that she’s back. Her long hair has been dyed pastel colors that give it a sort of holographic effect; platinum blonde with pale pinks and blues giving it enough shimmer to look reflective. She’s wearing fitted jeans and a tastefully ripped T-shirt that give tantalizing glimpses of a red bra-strap. Her heels are high and deep crimson with pointed toes. She looks every inch the rock goddess.

  She takes off her sunglasses and heads my way. A smile stretches out her full lips as she approaches.

  “Oh my God, Asher, is that really you?”

  “Eden. The rumors are true then,” I say, smiling back as she stops at the desk and leans on it
.

  She still smells like roses and sweet apples. I don’t know what her perfume is, but it does something positively depraved to my thoughts every single time I breathe it in. Imagining this woman naked and climbing over the counter with desire in her eyes sets blood racing straight to my nether regions. I’m glad the counter is there. The evidence of her effect on me would be all too obvious otherwise.

  “You look good,” she tells me, her gaze drifting.

  I take pride in wearing well tailored three-piece suits to work. I’m sure that’s all she’s referencing. A woman like Eden is used to men who spend half their time in a gym, and the rest on a stage in front of hordes of screaming girls.

  “Well, you look utterly ravishing,” I tell her. “But I’m sure you’re sick to death of people telling you that.”

  She smiles. “No one ever tells me that, Asher. I’ve missed your way with words.”

  I clear my throat. “Are you in town for long?”

  She nods. “Here to stay. I think. For now.”

  Same old Eden. I have to smile. She hasn’t changed a bit.

  “Were you looking for anything in particular?”

  She shakes her head. “I just wanted to check out some books. What do I need to do?”

  I get her set up, and she wanders off into library. It takes her half an hour to pick out half a dozen titles. All of them are different. She doesn’t seem to have any preference for genre or theme.

  Horror, romance, self-help, reference, science-fiction, and cookery.

  I don’t realize I’m raising an eyebrow until she shrugs at me, her face flushing.

  “I’m kind of at a loose end right now.”

  It’s the perfect opportunity to ask her out, and yet I hesitate. She’s only just back in town. Apparently after a horrible break-up, if the news is to be relied on. It feels too soon.

  “Well, these are all good choices.”

  I check them out for her and she takes the bundle from my hands, a spark of electricity passing between us and making her gasp. Her bright blue eyes meet mine one last time before she leaves.

  “It was nice seeing you, Asher.”

  “Don’t be a stranger.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  She leaves the library and I wonder when she’ll be back. More than that, I wonder if I’ll develop a spine by then. I already know I let her get away again. Someone else will ask her out before she comes back to return those books. I’ve missed my chance. Maybe I never really had one to begin with.

  Chapter Three

  * * *

  EDEN

  I put the books into the passenger seat of my car and glance back up at the library. Asher had always been so intellectual. He’d been ready to go do a degree in English Lit when I left town. I suppose I’d expected him to end up teaching in some Ivy League school. It was a nice surprise to find him in the library. Kind of like old times. It had been his favorite place in high school, for sure. I close the car door and smile as I head over to the local café.

  I almost bump into a guy coming out of a car on the other side of the street as I cross.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  He just smiles at me. “No problem.”

  There’s something oddly familiar about him, but if he’s someone from my past he’s gone through enough changes to render him unrecognizable. I want to ask if I know him, but it’ll sound like a line. Everything that comes out my mouth these days sounds like a line. It’s like my unconscious wants me to get back in the saddle when I’ve barely had a chance to get over dismounting the last horse. I mean man. Oh, I give up. My brain is barely functioning these days it seems.

  I head into the café and place my old usual takeaway order. The staff are new and while the girl serving me has eyes as round as saucers, she keeps her cool and doesn’t ask if I am who she thinks I am. It’s cute. Maybe if my thoughts were less dysfunctional right now I’d be able to come up with a better response than a smile and a thank you when my order is passed over.

  “You’re welcome, Miss Masterson.”

  I walk out, kind of glad that the little old ladies with their lemonade and sandwiches barely even noticed that the girl who put their town on the map was just in the building.

  The guy I almost bumped into is still outside when I’m walking back to my car. I bite down on my lower lip. It’s going to drive me crazy if I don’t ask.

  “Excuse me,” I say, heading over as he leans against his car.

  He has dark sunglasses on, and a knowing smile. “How can I be of assistance to you, ma’am?”

  Uh oh. Weirdo alert. I look around, find the street empty and take a breath. “Do I know you, or something?”

  He nods. “Or something.” He doesn’t offer more.

  “Well… there’s no need to be a jerk.” I start to walk away, and I hear him following me. I thank heavens it’s broad daylight and Asher is close by.

  “Your soul has been crying out for help.”

  Oh, no. He really is a freak. I turn. “Look, I just thought I might know you, okay? You don’t need to go all religious-stalker-zealot on me.”

  He folds his arms, looking me over like he’s not the slightest bit impressed. “I don’t think you’re ready for it, quite yet.”

  I frown at him. “I’ll never be ready for whatever the heck you’re talking about. Got it? I’m not interested.”

  I move to the driver’s door and look up. He’s gone. I glance over and his car is gone too. I have no idea how he did that, but I’m not about to waste any time wondering. Shuddering, I get into the car. I start the engine and pause, staring at the doors to the library.

  I’d totally given Asher a line in there. He was looking good and he’d made me smile. It would have been nice to spend some time with him, but I’d probably come on too strong. I couldn’t seem to stop giving off desperate lonely woman vibes. He hadn’t taken the bait and I didn’t blame him. I had to get myself under control. Show some restraint, instead of just letting my dirty mind wonder how long it would take to strip him out of that suit, how many ways we could use that tie…

  I seriously need a cold shower. He probably has a wife or something anyway. There’s no way a guy like that in a town like this is single. Sighing, I pull out of the parking space and drive back to my new house. Alone. I’m going to have to try harder to get used to that.

  Chapter Four

  * * *

  EDEN

  Time passes excruciatingly slowly when you’re all alone. It’s only my second week of solitude and I’m already going nuts. I’ve read most of the library books, afraid to return them in case I make a lame pass at my old friend. I’ve worked through the cook book recipes that I had the right ingredients for and found a few I liked. Other than that, I’ve been climbing the walls.

  Afraid to turn on the T.V. in case I see something about Hunter, or our break-up, or heaven-forbid, the new girl he’s undoubtedly shacked up with now. Trying and failing to write a single word or note. Playing old songs hollows me out. Most of mine were written for Hunter, or, inspired by him or time we’d spent together. None of them feel like they belong to me anymore.

  I remember my doctor’s appointment about ten minutes before he’s due to appear. I’m close to the end of the horror novel by then and glad I stopped reading to wonder about the nagging feeling in my gut. It’s not nerves from the tense read. It always comes when I’ve forgotten something important. I rack my brain and then get up and check the notepad by the phone. I’d started writing things down, since I’ve been avoiding any devices that have internet access since the break-up. The appointment is there. I breathe out a sigh of relief. If the doorbell had rung while I was still immersed in the deadly cat-and-mouse chase between the heroine and the killer it might have given me a heart-attack.

  I’d been super organized the very first day I got into town, making sure to register with the local doctor right away. I’d asked for an appointment and his receptionist had made one, asking if I’d prefer hi
m to visit me at home. As much as I’d come here looking to avoid special treatment, where doctor’s were concerned, I preferred to keep things as private as possible.

  I put the book down, using the dust cover as a book-mark. My mouth feels dry. I worry that he might ask a lot of awkward questions. I worry that he might not refill my prescription.

  I wonder, not for the first time, if I should have kept my doctor on retainer in L.A. I probably would have had to fly back there to get prescribed anything, so I hadn’t. The thought of going back out there makes me sick. This guy is probably fine.

  My stomach begins to churn as I wait for him to arrive. I start to pace.

  The knock on the door makes me jump. I remember I’d left the gate open, so he got in without having to be buzzed through. I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders and answer the door.

  “Hi, you must be Doctor Lewis.”

  “And you must be Eden. You can just call me Blake.”

  “Nice to meet you, Blake. Come in.”

  I try not to notice how handsome he is as I let him in to my house. It’s impossible. I’ll have to just bite my tongue and avoid small talk. He’s so different from Asher. Fair-haired and handsome, he’s not exactly tall. Still, he’s a few inches taller than me. Gorgeous smile, deep, dark eyes and a nicely-toned body shown off by his fitted shirt. I’d hoped for someone old and shriveled enough to be my grandfather, truth be told. There had to be some kind of limit to this supercharged libido I was growing. Crushing hard on every attractive man I met was getting to be embarrassing.

  “So, how can I help?” He has a briefcase in his hand. I try to remember what he’s here for, other than my ogling pleasure.

  I motion for him to sit down and bite my lip as my gaze falls to his ass before he does. This is such a bad idea. Calm down, Eden. He doesn’t need to know you’re drooling over him. Keep it together.