Summer of Irreverence: The Rock Star (The New York Artists Series)

by Cathrine Goldstein

  Summer smirked at him, understanding she was part of his elaborate show, but not caring in the least. He grinned back and once again, he covered his mic. He leaned forward to whisper into her ear.

  “Wait for me later?”

  Summer felt her body tremble in response as she nodded. He smiled sweetly, and then hummed into her ear once again.

  “Stay with Jeanette. Backstage. I’ll find you when all the craziness is over.”

  “That would be a great song lyric,” Summer blurted. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. How could she be so stupid? She might as well tell Michelangelo what to paint.

  “Yeah?” He raised his eyebrows in response. “Maybe it would.”

  A small smile turned up the corners of his lips, and Summer smiled back, feeling her heart perform a fairly common occurrence that was entirely new to her. It was easily explained in layman’s terms as the moment one’s heart has a palpitation, or a tiny hiccup in its rhythm, that can be manifested by stress—stress such as standing onstage in the middle of Madison Square Garden with thousands of people staring at you—or, in other words…Malcolm’s smile made Summer’s heart skip a beat.

  Chapter Four

  From backstage, Summer watched the chaos unfurl around her. People ran back and forth pushing equipment and moving props. She was stunned Malcolm’s job—which appeared worlds apart from hers in every way—was actually not so very different. Behind the scenes, Malcolm had the same hustle and bustle going that Summer encountered when pet owners, ranchers, or farmers frantically described symptoms Summer couldn’t immediately detect. But in the operating room, like on the stage, there was the sanctity of peace, as she, like Malcolm, concentrated only on the job at hand. Huh.

  Jeanette walked up and bumped Summer on the shoulder. “Told ya that shirt was a good choice.”

  “Jean,” Summer hugged her. “Did I look like an idiot? Honestly.”

  “I would say not. Actually, you looked like the woman every woman here wished she were.”

  “I don’t know about that…” Summer felt the heat in her cheeks as she looked out at Malcolm.

  “Is that me making you blush? Or him?”

  Jeanette had to raise her voice to be heard, and Summer hushed her.

  “For goodness sake. I’m not blushing.”

  “Okayyyy….” Jeanette smiled and took Summer by the hand. She turned Summer to face her.

  “I know that look, Jean.” Summer rolled her eyes.

  “Look, you’re a grown-up. A high achieving, ass-kicking grown-up.”

  Summer sighed, exasperated.

  “But this may be your last chance to say no.”

  “I can always say no, Jean. This is the United States of America, and if I say no—”

  “Yes, yes.” Jeanette waved Summer off. “What I mean is, once Malcolm Angel sets his sights on you, I’ve never known a woman who could say no.”

  “His eyes are…something…” Summer let her gaze fall back toward Malcolm.

  Malcolm turned just then and caught a glimpse of her. He smiled.

  “Well, I see my work here is done.” Jeanette threw her bag over her shoulder.

  “You’re leaving?” Summer’s heartbeat raced again as panic set in.

  “Going to catch a late dinner with Elijah, and then we’ll be staying in the same hotel as the band. The same hotel you’ll be in, I guess.”

  Jeanette raised her eyebrows, and Summer smirked.

  “Wait…” Summer narrowed her eyes. “If you all live in New York City, why do you stay in a hotel after a performance?”

  Jeanette tipped her head in a way that would have been condescending had it come from anyone else. But Summer knew, coming from Jeanette, it was a gesture filled with concern. “No one wants to go home straight after a performance. This way it…keeps the party going.”

  “Huh.” Summer nodded, understanding. So Malcolm Angel never took women back to his own apartment. Made sense, really.

  “So let me explain how this will work.” Jeanette furrowed her brow as she spoke. “A security guard will check your ID.”

  “My ID?” Summer recoiled in surprise. “I’m clearly over twenty-one.”

  “They don’t take chances with the likes of Malcolm Angel, Sum. And they’re not checking if you’re old enough to drink. Get it?”

  Summer nodded, breathing deeply. What kind of life was this man living? For a moment, a flicker of time, Summer felt bad for him.

  “Summer. Pay attention.” Jeanette glanced at her watch. “They’ll drop you off at Malcolm’s hotel room to wait for him. You’ll have dinner when he arrives.”

  “Wait…dinner. Will it be a deal that I’m a vegetarian?”

  “The man dates models. You’ll have the least convoluted diet restrictions of any woman he’s ever eaten with. I promise.”

  Summer nodded, feeling a tad insecure at the thought of following in the bed sheets of women who looked like Jeanette.

  “Anyway, you’ll have dinner in the room—”

  “In the room? Isn’t that a bit… too…normal for a rock star? I imagined—”

  “Sum,” Jeanette placed her hand on Summer’s arm. “You couldn’t even begin to imagine what this hotel is like. You’ve never seen anything like it. His suite is half the top floor, and it has a bunch of separate rooms, including a dining room. Anyway, when it’s time…you’ll make your way to the lounge for drinks, or go straight to the bedroom.”

  Summer placed her hands on her cheeks, cooling her blush.

  “If at any time you decide you’re through, you know where to find me.” Jeanette grabbed her cell and texted Summer her room number. Jeanette’s eyes fell heavy on Summer. “If you do this, he will kick you out when he’s done. Understand this, Sum.”

  “I got it,” Summer whispered, looking at Malcolm out of the corner of her eye.

  “He’s got a reputation of being a shit, but not until the woman’s gone and can’t cause him any trouble. So while you’re there, he’ll be a gentleman. When he’s done, he’ll say he has an early call time tomorrow which is bullshit, but so is everything else in this life.” Jeanette sighed. “He’ll walk you to his hotel room door, and someone will usher you down to his car.” Jeanette took Summer by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. “And he will never think of you again. You sure you’re okay with that?”

  “Jean…” Summer reached up and removed Jeanette’s hands. “I want irreverence. Not manners.”

  Jeanette nodded. “Head back to the apartment, and I’ll meet up with you tomorrow for all the details. Capiche?”

  “Yup.” Summer nodded, sneaking another peek at Malcolm.

  Jeanette kissed Summer on the cheek, then pulled back, studying her. “Above all, have fun, Sum.”

  Summer broke out into a mischievous smile. “I intend to.”

  ****

  Summer barely had time to find her way to a bathroom in Malcolm’s hotel suite before he arrived. She felt him walk in before she ever saw him—his electrical aura preceding him, sending shockwaves through her body.

  He made a surprising entrance. She was expecting Malcolm to crash through the door, security paving his way, while groupies threw themselves against him. Instead, her heart fluttered when he walked through the door alone. His discreet and unassuming entrance almost made this feel normal. Almost.

  “Summer…” Again her name rolled off his tongue. He smiled from across the room.

  Summer let her eyes make their way to him. He was dressed in a black button down shirt, sleeves rolled up—exposing incredibly strong forearms—dark jeans, and dress shoes. When he lifted his arm to run his hand through his hair, her mouth dropped open. He was lean, hungry, sexy, and dangerous. Summer bit her lip, energy swirling below her belly.

  “Hello, Malcolm.” She had no idea what to do with herself. Nerves were coursing through her at unprecedented speeds. She wrung her hands, dropping them when he looked at her. Still nervous, she tried shaking them. He smirked, and Summer froze. She gl
ued her arms to her sides, not wanting to look like a fledgling bird trying to take flight.

  “I’m glad you stayed to have dinner with me. I wasn’t sure when I saw the look on your face onstage…” He shook his head, chuckling, and made his way around the room, landing at the bar.

  “I—I’m not accustomed to that many eyes on me.” Summer didn’t recognize her voice. It was low and breathy.

  “Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “I would have thought models were used to the attention.”

  “Oh, um…” So Jeanette had already told him Summer was a model. Now all she had to do was to pull it off. Absentmindedly, Summer reached up and ran a hand through her hair. She suddenly remembered the straightening and blowout and pulled her hand away, fast. “I do mostly print…” Summer shook her head. She hated lying.

  “Got it.” His eyes ran up and down her body as he held up a bottle of champagne.

  Summer began to fidget, shifting from one high heeled boot to the other. Malcolm was most definitely sizing her up. How long would it be before he guessed that squeezed in under Jeanette’s custom creation was a woman who was most certainly not a model…?

  “Champagne?”

  “Um, sure.” Why the heck not? He hadn’t thrown her out yet, and this was her one night. Her kickoff to a summer to remember. As the years go by, and she’s working in her clinic in a small country town, she will never have to wonder, “what if.” How many people can say that?

  “Good.”

  Malcolm popped the cork easily, and Summer allowed herself to discreetly gawk at his exposed forearm muscles. Her breath grew shallower with every move he made. He poured her a glass and walked to her with it. His proximity made her head pound, and she stepped back, suddenly dizzy.

  Merely the otolithic organs in my vestibular system, sending the wrong signal to my brain… Rationalizing her feelings made her feel momentarily better.

  Then he looked at her, the deep groves in his face framing his perfectly white, amazing smile, and Summer’s heart began a mad dash toward a finish line she hoped she wouldn’t see for hours…

  It was merely a biological reaction. Fight or flight. She was nervous, so her adrenaline pumped faster, causing an increase in blood pressure and heart rate. Summer shook her head. Oh, the heck with it. It was him—Malcolm Angel. He was hot as hell. The intensity of his eyes sent a charge through her.

  Summer returned Malcolm’s smile, vowing to let her body take over, and for once, to keep her analytical mind at bay. She exhaled, noticing he was carrying only one glass of champagne.

  “Thank you.” She took the glass from him. “You don’t drink?”

  ****

  It was the way she asked the question. He’d never been asked like that before. And it was sooner than anyone else had ever asked—it took most women two or three glasses themselves before they realized he wasn’t drinking with them. “You don’t drink?” was very different from, “You’re not drinking?” Maybe he was reading too much into a few meaningless words. Maybe she just spoke off the cuff…but something about this woman made him think she was rarely frivolous…in thought or in life.

  “Quick pick up.” Malcolm nodded his head to her. He thought about his usual response to a question like that, “No, baby, I wanna be here with you, completely.” Of course it was cheesy and insincere, but it did the job. Most women ate those words up. But once again, Malcolm had this annoying feeling that Summer wasn’t most women.

  “I don’t have to drink, either.” Summer placed the glass down on a nearby table and smiled at him.

  Her look was resolute. She was strong—he could tell. She was a fighter, or had fought her way through something. Malcolm always recognized this look in others and appreciated it. She looked like the type who would do whatever she had to, to get the job done, and right now, it was to make sure Malcolm Angel wasn’t tempted by alcohol. Malcolm smiled, there was no way she could know alcohol was the one vice that temped him the least.

  “No, no…” Malcolm picked up her glass and handed it back to her. “It’s not that I can’t, it’s that I choose not to. Sometimes.” He added the “sometimes” in case their encounter made its way to the gossip papers. He had no interest in people learning anything about the real him—like the fact that he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in nearly twenty years.

  “Oh, okay.” She held onto her glass again and sipped.

  Malcolm studied her, more intrigued than usual. He felt like this woman, a total stranger, somehow deserved more. But more was impossible for him to give. He stared into her giant green eyes. Surely he could try something. “But uh…thank you.” He looked away immediately, not trusting himself to connect on any real human level.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Her voice was sweet, and her eyes held his longer than he meant.

  “But,” she added, taking another sip, “if you ever do decide you want some champagne, this is the one to drink. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

  She smiled happily, tossing her head, and Malcolm smiled along with her.

  ****

  Summer picked at her dinner of artichoke soup and parmesan crusted gnocchi. The food was delicious, and Jeanette was right, asking to eat vegetarian was an easy request. Malcolm ordered like he had ordered vegetarian a million times before. And probably had. Summer stabbed a gnocchi with a shaking hand, unable to deny her nerves.

  They were sitting across from each other at a small bistro-like table. The dining room was modern and sleek, like the rest of the hotel room, but the feel of their dinner was intimate.

  Malcolm looked over at her nearly untouched dinner and knit his brow. “Don’t like it?” He nodded to her plate. “’Cause I can order something else…”

  He was nearly out of his seat when Summer stopped him. “No, Malcolm, please. The food is delicious.” His eyes landed on hers, and she looked away. He was handsome, undeniably, but there was so much more. His face was drawn and ragged making him look dangerous, and his presence filled the vastness of the suite. She ventured a peek into his eyes…they were dark, soulful and hungry, but filled with something unexplainable. He was every bit as primal as the animals she cared for daily. Jeanette was right, there was no way Summer would ever be able to say no.

  “Oh…” He nodded. “I get it. Models don’t eat.” He raised his eyebrows and shoveled in another bite.

  “No…” Summer shook her head. “It’s not that at all.” She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable over the lie she was lamely trying to perpetuate. “I normally eat…a lot.” She giggled and placed her hand to her mouth. This second glass of champagne was making her giddy.

  “Then what’s up?” Malcolm smiled along, looking sincerely interested.

  “Honestly…?” Summer pushed herself back from the table. She cringed with the word, “honestly.” “The truth is…” She wanted to tell him the truth, but he would kick her out for sure. Jeanette warned her of that. Then what would she have? “The truth is, I’m nervous.” She exhaled. At least she was able to express one real truth, and it felt like such a relief.

  “Why?” Malcolm asked, pushing his plate away.

  “Honestly?” Darn. There was that word again. She wanted to kick herself.

  “Please.” Malcolm rested his elbows on the table, crossing his arms.

  Summer inhaled his incredibly masculine scent from all the way across the table. She stared at his tired but sexy face, his body that was lean, and strong. She looked around his hotel suite that probably cost more for one night than her tuition for one semester; a room that rivaled her wildest notion of a palace.

  “Malcolm…” She tilted her head, hoping he would fill in the rest.

  “Yes?”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Summer stood up, laughing. “In case you’ve forgotten, let me remind you, you’re Malcolm Angel.”

  He leaned back in his chair, his face betraying just the slightest glimmer of disappointment.

  “Oh, I’m sorry…” Summer walk
ed to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  He looked up then, his eyes blazing with passion, and she pulled her hand away immediately.

  “I’m not particularly good with people.” Summer shrugged, moving back from him, her nerves on edge. “I didn’t mean you were such an intimidating force merely because of your name and persona…it’s also because of you. Just you.” Summer shook her head, daring to say something she normally wouldn’t. “Blame my inhibitions and free flowing rhetoric on the champagne or the fact that we’re total strangers who will never see each other again—” At her last words, Summer was certain she saw him flinch. She pushed on. “But even if you weren’t Malcolm Angel rock star, you’d still be intimidating and awe-inspiring, just as yourself…as a…a man.”

  Summer felt her whole body grow incredibly warm. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, looking down. “That was foolish. I don’t know what got into me. I told you I was terrible with people…”

  Malcolm looked away but reached out and grabbed her hand in a way that made her jump. She placed her free hand on her chest, feeling her heart race. His hand held hers, and in his grasp, Summer was certain she felt all the words he would never speak.

  Chapter Five

  Malcolm wondered, as he tightened his grasp on her hand, if she could ever possibly understand this is the closest he had been to another human being in nearly twenty years.

  He shook his head, laughing at himself. Sure, she was slightly tipsy, what was his excuse for these free flowing feelings? Malcolm looked at Summer and saw the concern etched into her forehead. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel stupid. Yes, it’s true two glasses of champagne were probably enough to do her in…but still, her words were heartfelt, and they were intended to make him feel better.

  Still clutching her hand, Malcolm stood. She shied away slightly, and her hair brushed against his shoulder. He liked it. Their bodies were close now, and it was surely the time he would have led any woman into his bedroom. He knew he should lead Summer there as well—it’s what she was expecting and what he wanted, ever since he caught that first glimpse of her from stage. But tonight, he felt different. The way she smiled at him onstage, the honesty in her eyes…something felt…altered tonight. He breathed in deeply. Maybe it wasn’t her at all; maybe it was the beginning of the summer season that made him feel this way…