Bad Beats: A Rock-Star Step-Brother Romance

by C. L. Riley

  What the fuck am I thinking? A ring? A baby?

  I can see the tattoo, but this kind of thinking is light years beyond crazy. The last time I felt jealous was over Lila, on the day of my failed proposal, and I don’t recall feeling anywhere near as insane as I do right now. I’d been with Lila for years. I’ve only known Cadie a couple of months.

  How is this possible?

  I’ve been with hundreds of women since my breakup with Lila, and not once was I jealous or upset to see them with someone else. In most cases I was relieved, knowing I was off the hook.

  Cadie, the one woman I shouldn’t want and the one I can’t have — for several compelling reasons, is the woman who has laid claim to my heart and makes me behave like a caveman — her word to describe me.

  If I find proof she did more than drink with her admirer, she’ll know what a cavemen really acts like. A vision of me, beating on my chest before beating down that prissy rich asshole gives me reason to smirk.

  From what I see, the evidence looks pretty damning:

  Cadie naked and drunk, sleeping with a smile.

  Sheets in disarray.

  Man’s jacket left behind.

  Her clothes on the floor.

  Picking up the jacket, I look for the label. It’s been designed specifically for the owner, which means he has money. There are a few men on this island with big bucks, especially with all the evening arrivals. There are a number of possibilities, yet Jagger Hewitt is the guilty one. I know it.

  I toss the jacket back over the chair. Before I act, I need to be certain. Cadie will inevitably return the garment, giving me the confirmation I need. What I’m going to do about it, I really don’t know. The guy I suspect owns the fucking island that I’m stuck on for the next month. Should he be culpable, my caveman vision will have to wait for me to finish taping. Besides, after what happened on the cruise ship, I know things are not always what they first appear to be. Just because they had drinks together doesn’t mean they got naked.

  Okay…so Cadie got naked, that’s been already been established, but she could have been hot. Right? It is stuffy in here.

  “Shag? Is that you?” her soft voice startles me, and I stumble back.

  She doesn’t open her eyes.

  “Come back to bed, babe,” she whispers before letting out a deep sigh and turning over, giving me a perfect view of the ass I want to paddle.

  At least she’s dreaming about me.

  Taking great care not to wake her, I slink back to the open door between our rooms. With a final look at her sleeping form, I change my mind, all over again. I am not releasing her from the PA position. As foolish as my decision may be, I’m keeping her with me.

  I’ll follow her new rules of non-engagement and fulfill my contract on Roping a Rock-Star. And…I intend to do everything possible to fall out of love with my future step-sister. If she’s going to test the water, I’m diving in too.

  Tomorrow is a new day. Professionalism at its finest for me, at least where Cadie’s concerned. Lila better beware too. I’m not the man she remembers. She’s overdue for a well-deserved payback.

  * * *

  Cadie

  The pounding between my ears has taken on very real quality. It’s like someone is banging a drum, trying to torment me.

  “No-o-o-o…” I groan, reaching for my phone.

  It is 8:00am, island time. Due to the time zone difference, I am in sad shape. My hangover isn’t helping.

  The hammering continues, and I realize it’s not just inside my skull. “Shut up!” I cover my head with a pillow, trying to drown out the racket. It doesn’t stop.

  Who is knocking this early?

  “Are you decent?” The answer to my ‘who is knocking question’ demands from the other side of our connecting door.

  I’m not decent.

  Holy hell! What happened last night? Why am I naked?

  My head swims as I struggle into a sitting position and inspect my room, hoping to make sense of things. A man’s jacket is tossed over the closest chair, reminding me I’d been out consuming coconut cocktails, courtesy of Jagger Hewitt, billionaire and island patriarch. I’d then had the pleasure of meeting Shag’s former flame, who had been kind enough to warn me away from Shag, or as she referred to him, Sean…his real name. How quaint. Bitch!

  More pounding, crap.

  “Up and at em’, Miss O’Shea. We’ve got work to do.”

  “Go away!” I yell. “The meeting isn’t until ten.”

  “I’d like to get an early start. I think we should discuss the red file.”

  His cheerfulness sounds forced. I’m not surprised.

  Dragging myself out of bed, I scout for the complementary robe I spotted last night. I slip it on and run my fingers through my hair, which of course, is a tangled mass of curls.

  Crap. Jagger’s jacket.

  I shuffle over to the chair and grab the coat, stuffing it into my nightstand’s top drawer. The sight of my cocktail glass triggers a gag. The fruit that looked and tasted so fresh last night looks soggy in the early morning sunlight.

  Why is it so bright in here?

  Finally, I make it to the door. The minute I turn the latch, Shag barges in, coffee in hand.

  “Where’s mine?” I plead before realizing, as the personal assistant, I should have found us both a cup.

  “Didn’t know I was in charge of your caffeine consumption.” He takes a sip, letting his gaze travel around the room.

  I’m sure it’s just my imagination, but it seems like his gaze lingers on the chair where Jagger’s jacket had been.

  “Let me hop in the shower. Can we meet in thirty minutes, or better yet, forty-five?”

  He gives me a look I can’t read. “I can be generous. One hour. Bring the files and an alert Cadie to the back patio. We can prep for the meeting there.”

  The words pour out before I can stop them, “Why are you acting so weird? One minute you can’t get enough of me the next…”

  “Whoa, hold on. You made it crystal clear that we were business associates and future siblings, nothing more. Whatever happened between us, no matter how recent, is in the past, right? We’ve turned a new page in our re-la-tion-ship.”

  He’s right, of course, but I don’t like how it feels or the way he’s talking. Everything is off. I’m not sure what I expected, but this patronizing version of Shag annoys me.

  “Looks like you had quite the night,” he adds, taking me by surprise. He stares at the bed.

  I can’t deny it does look like my night involved more than sleeping. My clothes are scattered all over the floor. The bed is rumpled, sheets all tangled and tumbling off. It’s a good thing I hid the jacket, though from the cold-as-ice vibes emanating from him, I’m not sure why he cares what I was or wasn’t doing.

  My annoyance has shifted to anger, and I decide if he wants to play this bizarre game, I’ll play too. “It was a good night. I couldn’t sleep so I checked out our map and found the bar on the beach. Met some interesting people who couldn’t sleep either and had a few drinks.”

  He makes no effort to hide his disapproval, his lip curling.

  “As your employee, is socializing off limits?” I ask sweetly.

  “You can do whatever and whoever you want, as long as it doesn’t affect your job. I’m not your babysitter.”

  Ouch. Whoever I want? Are we over for real/real this time?

  From Shag’s behavior this morning, it would seem so.

  Swallowing the slice of pain, I force a smile that falters. “Just let me know your expectations, and I’ll make sure I adhere to them, Mr. Steal.”

  “Better get in the shower, the clock is ticking.”

  I give him a salute and practically jog to the bathroom, desperate to get away from the new, not-improved Shag. I want to leave the island and quit the job, but how will I explain my actions to our parents, to Robin and Josh? Furthermore, I want this position on my resume. I need the money. Without Robin for a roommate, I’l
l be paying the bills alone.

  I have to get over Shag Steal. There is no other option.

  I guess I’ll take Lila’s advice and get to know Jagger Hewitt. Considering Shag will be getting to know his contestants while becoming reacquainted with his first love, there is nothing stopping me from spending time with the sexy billionaire.

  Our linking door slams, shaking the walls. The sound is downright ominous, and the implication is impossible to ignore.

  Whatever feelings Shag had or has for me are now locked away behind a symbolic door, the same door I closed yesterday. In my case, the way I’d shut the door was far less forceful or final.

  I understand his action is necessary, but damn it hurts.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shag

  “We’re the acceptable edge of the unacceptable stuff.”

  -Peter Buck

  I struggle to keep my eyes off Cadie. It’s not easy, and I’m not the only one having difficulty paying attention to our show’s director, Calvin Masters.

  Even with ten, exceedingly attractive women in the room, several who are showing off enough skin to make the most conservative priest question his vows, Cadie stands out from the rest.

  For our impromptu meeting before this meeting, she was dressed in baggy sweats, hiding her generous curves. And for thirty minutes, we managed to keep our conversation on topic, without any reference to our ruined relationship or future family status.

  I can’t deny I was impressed. She shared her contestant ratings, and we even enjoyed a few laughs at the expense of Honey Partridge, both of us having been exposed at some point in the past to The Seventies musical sitcom, The Partridge Family. On a serious note, we were able to explore the potential challenges associated with Lila and her suspected plotting. With Cadie’s organizational skills and quick thinking on display, it was apparent she’ll make a superior personal assistant. She shows far more promise than Misty ever did.

  Looking back, I realize I hired Misty more for her appearance and sexy accent than her professional qualifications. She caught on quickly, but she was a huge contributor toward my bad habits, especially with her love for my cock and the white powder. There is no way I could work with her now, even if things hadn’t turned bitter. Cadie is perfect in that regard. I will never have to worry about her shoving a straw under my nose and ordering me to snort.

  Speaking of snorting, Lila, never one to be undermined, has not failed to notice my appreciative glances Cadie’s direction and omits a little snort that could easily be misinterpreted as her clearing her sinuses. I know better. She made the same disapproving sound too many times to count when we were growing up, and the expression she wears is one I remember well — determination. She will do whatever it takes to bring Cadie down and elevate herself in the process, but knowing what I know about my girl’s…

  Not. My. Girl. I remind myself.

  What I know about Cadie’s Irish temper assures me she will have no difficulty dealing with my ex. Stupid me, I was in such a hurry to protect her and send her home that I forgot her innate toughness. I’m glad I didn’t listen to Slyder’s advice, even if my motives are less than pure.

  I am however, listening to my gut’s reaction as I try to figure out who might have done the deed with Cadie.

  Brian Seacrest, our series’ host, has had his eyes on her since she first walked into the meeting room. I wonder if he’s the guilty culprit. He is rich enough to own the jacket, and he is famous as fuck, hosting a variety of reality television programs, mostly singing competitions. Not to mention, he’s also a successful radio announcer with his own national programming. I always believed he preferred men, but by the way he’s devouring Cadie with his hooded gaze, I must have been mistaken. Fucker.

  He takes advantage of a pause in Calvin’s speech and turns to Cadie. “Miss O’Shea, can you explain what your role will be with Shag on the set and during his dates?” He adds a part two before she can answer. “I guess my real question is why such an attractive and accomplished woman isn’t competing for the position of Mrs. Steal? We could always add a wildcard,” he laughs and few heads, all male, nod.

  Cadie rises to her feet, something most of the speakers have done throughout the meeting.

  Once again, I soak in her stylish business attire. The sweats she wore for our earlier meeting have been replaced by pure professionalism with a feminine twist. She’s left her hair down, and it spirals in smooth waves over her shoulders and down her back, the way I like it. Her makeup is applied in such a way it accentuates her gorgeous green eyes, making them stand out from behind her new glasses. Her lips are glossed and seem plumper than usual. I’d like nothing more than to kiss her in front of the leering men and jealous women, but that would be a clear violation of our newest rules, not to mention, it wouldn’t bode well for my career. So I continue my appraisal instead as she begins her introduction.

  Her dress is the same color as her eyes and hits just above the knees, hugging her body in all the right places without being overstated. It has a square neck and capped sleeves, and is simple, professional and perfect, showcasing her pale skin and fiery hair. The biggest surprise is the matching jade pumps, with four inch heels. I’ve always loved her calves, and in this dress and those heels...

  Great. Sure enough, my cock has taken notice as well. I shift uncomfortably and try to tune in to what she’s saying, though it’s difficult to stay focused.

  “That’s a little background about me and how I met Mr. Steal.” She glances my way, offering a friendly smile that I return automatically. “As for Mr. Seacrest’s questions, I will make every effort to be unobtrusive during the scheduled dates. Should Mr. Steal ask me not to participate, I will find something else to occupy my time. On this lovely island that shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  She earns a handful of knowing chuckles with that comment. I’m impressed by how she’s working the room but don’t appreciate her insinuation about how she’ll be spending her time away from her job. I guess I’ll have to keep her working around the clock.

  “I will keep notes during the dates and provide feedback to Mr. Steal. He can use me as a sounding board of sorts. After all, dating ten women at once is no easy feat, even for someone as experienced as Shag Steal.” She winks at the contestants, who giggle and titter; all except Lila, who glowers.

  “And Mr. Seacrest, in answer to your other question, I have no intention of becoming the eleventh wildcard. From my understanding of the contest rules, ten is the max.”

  She earns a hearty applause for her brief introduction and looks relieved to take her seat.

  The director resumes control of the meeting, highlighting the contest rules even though we’ve all been provided a detailed summary.

  Overall, it’s not too complicated. I pick who I want to spend time with and when, but I am required to ‘date’ each woman at least once, more is preferred.

  Tomorrow, the competitors start off the season, performing in a talent competition. I’m the head judge and will help eliminate three women after the ridiculous event to get things moving with the remaining seven contestants. As we continue, different celebrities will make guest appearances and choose what we do on our dates. They’ll be given a lot of leeway when it comes to creativity. In addition, each rendezvous consists of a truth or dare portion for the challengers.

  As for the voting process, the judges will garner one quarter of the vote, I collect the other quarter, and the TV audience owns half, giving them the most power over my future. Judges can dock scores for failed dare attempts, and I get the impression there will be added surprises along the way. Every episode will include a musical performance, maintaining the rock-star theme, and Crude Element will take the stage twice. At least I’ll get to see the gang.

  As Calvin Masters finishes up his rule-rundown, Jagger Hewitt and his ever-present bodyguard stride into the room. Like me, he’s got the whole swagger thing down, and the women take notice, including Cadie. He pays no attention to the
contestants, but gives my girl (not my girl) a sly smile that says more than any words. He might as well announce he shagged her last night; desire is written all over his face. Her cheeks flush the way they used to when she looked at me. She definitely didn’t respond to Brian Seacrest like this. The jacket belongs to Hewitt. It has to.

  My fists clench under the table, and I fight the urge to use them on Hewitt. He seems to sense my fury and shoots me cool glance filled with warning. Omar shifts in his chair, and I assume he’s sizing up Hewitt’s muscle. If I had to say, I believe the bodyguards are equally matched.

  All this transpires so fast that no one but the people involved notice, except, perhaps, Lila. I catch her glancing from me to our island’s owner and then at Cadie. She always was hyperaware. A curse and a blessing back in the day. Today it’s just another reason to be wary.

  Jagger Hewit moves to the front of the room, shaking Calvin’s hand before giving him a pat on the shoulder.

  “Greetings, everyone. Welcome to my corner of the Caribbean. I hope your accommodations are to your satisfaction. For those of you who have not yet met me, I’m your host, Jagger Hewitt.”

  The room goes silent, soaking in the billionaire’s undeniable charisma. It’s easy to see he’s used to the attention and thrives on his audiences’ respect the same way I flourish from the admiration my music generates, during a live performance.

  We’re really not so different, I hate to admit. Rich. Controlling. Arrogant. Good looking.

  Giving him another once over, I decide I’m better looking. I’m taller and have a larger build, where he’s leaner, built more like runner, and I see no evidence of tattoos or piercings, though that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. He senses my scrutiny and sends me a look meant to be a challenge.