He angled his body toward hers and frowned. “You know what I think, Sydney Metcalf?” He tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear and leaned close enough to smell her shampoo. “I don’t think you have any idea what’s underneath, and I’d like to be the man to help you find out.”
He bridged the last inch between them and brushed her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. She moaned and leaned into him, whether consciously or not, and his blood pressure skyrocketed. He took the kiss deeper, loving her unskilled but enthusiastic response. Exerting his weight onto his left hand he lifted his right and cupped her nape, drawing her even closer. One soft breast covered in silky, damp material branded his chest, and he groaned.
God, he wanted to see her naked.
His cock swelled at the thought. Hard as a stone like a teenager from a ten-second kiss. There’d be no relieving the ache with onlookers less than a hundred yards away, and there’d be no hiding it through the thin material of his suit.
He pulled away reluctantly, ignoring every instinct that screamed for him to continue. To touch her for even one more second. “I like you, Syd.” Where had that come from?
Jesus, he had to be more careful. It was true, but telling her things like that would only confuse the issue. “And I’d love to spend the next week getting to know you better. What do you say?”
Her eyes were soft and unfocused, and she blinked a few time before focusing in on him. “You seem, um, really nice. But I’m going to be very busy with cooking and—”
“Don’t answer now. Sleep on it. Let it marinate. I can’t promise you much, but I can promise that, if you want to have fun? I’m your guy.” He dipped close again, helplessly drawn by her soft, pouty lips and kissed her one more time before pulling away. “If you need to relax, I can sure enough help you with that, too.” This time, when he leaned in, he bypassed her mouth and nipped her earlobe. “Just think about it, Syd. Can you do that for me?”
He drew back and held her gaze, letting every ounce of his longing shine through. Honest and right in your face. Balls out. It was the only way he knew how to be.
And apparently she didn’t hate it. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
He was still congratulating himself on his mini-victory when she rolled off the dock and into the water.
“Last one back is a rotten egg,” she called over her shoulder, before kicking off at a breakneck speed.
He dove in after her, resigned to letting her win this race, too. He’d need another five minutes in cold water before he’d be fit for public viewing again.
And if he didn’t stop thinking about Sydney Metcalf’s lips, it was going to be a lot longer than that.
Chapter Six
“Oh. My. God. Spill!”
Syd looked up from the menu printouts strewn on her bed to see a breathless and beaming Callie standing in her doorway. Shit. She’d done a stellar job of avoiding her friend last night and all morning. Luckily, Lori was all over her with wedding details, so it wasn’t so much of a stretch, but now was time to pay the piper.
Her cheeks flamed, and she made a show of taking off her glasses and cleaning them to buy some time. She hadn’t even been able to process what had happened with Laz herself yet, never mind trying to talk about it with her friend.
“What do you mean?”
“Cut the crap.” Callie strode into the room and closed the door behind her. “I saw you guys kissing on the dock. Why are you playing stupid?”
She wasn’t playing anything. She was pretty sure she was genuinely stupid. Stupid for letting Laz kiss her. Even stupider for actually considering his offer. Surely no good could come of it. He’d be far too easy to fall in love with and love—especially the unrequited kind—was the last thing she needed.
But he was so convincing.
“He kissed me. I don’t know why. And…” She trailed off, suddenly feeling like if she said it aloud it would make it seem too real.
“And?” Callie screeched, crossing the floor to shove the pile of paper out of the way and flop on the bed next to Syd. “There’s an ‘and’?”
“And he wants to, you know, spend the week. Getting to know me. He asked me to go on a date with him tonight.”
Callie eyed her thoughtfully, the look on her face reflecting exactly the sentiments she’d been feeling in her heart. Suspicion. Even Callie who loved her and told her how awesome she was pretty much since the third grade thought it was crazy that Laz wanted her. It shouldn’t have stung, but it did.
“If he hurts you, I’ll chop his nuts off and put them in a blender. I don’t care how rich and famous he is.” Callie’s quiet statement paired with the icy gleam in her eyes was chilling.
“Oookay, then.”
Callie took her hand and shrugged. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t get to know him. But he’s not one that seems interested in settling down. I’m just not sure if he’s good enough for you.”
Not good enough for her? Was that what had her looking so worried?
She let out a snort. “Fantastically gorgeous rock god has a weird crush on the frumpy caterer, and you’re worried he’s not good enough for me?”
“I’m not even going to comment on the frumpy thing. Look in the dang mirror, girl. I mean good enough for you to give your heart to. The rest?” A slow, naughty smile stretched her lips. “You should totally give him the rest.”
Syd stared at her friend in shock. “You think I should just sleep with him? Knowing full well that a relationship is out of the question?”
“Especially knowing that,” Callie confirmed with a nod. “Why not live a little? You’ve spent so long buried in your work, trying to get ahead, you never got a chance to have fun and sow your oats.”
“Maybe I don’t even have oats.” But the thought that she was just not all that interested in sex that had comforted her many a time through the years had vanished the second she’d laid eyes on Laz.
“Oh, you have oats. And now I’m on a mission. This week, at my wedding, you’re going to sow them, and I’m going to help you.” Her eyes were lit with an unholy fire that made the hair on the back of Syd’s neck stand up.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Come on.”
Two hours later, Syd stared at herself in the mirror, stunned. “No way.” She shook her head again furiously. “Nope. I look like a total idiot.”
“You do not,” Callie said, reaching out a hand to fluff Syd’s already plenty-fluffy hair. “That skirt looks dynamite on you. Who knew you had such great legs?”
“Who knew she had legs at all, you mean.” Lori stood, hands on hips, eyeing Syd critically before nodding. “Why you insist on dressing like a fifty-year-old woman who only had her dozen cats to impress, I will never know.”
“Lori!” Callie scowled at her sister and patted Syd’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just mad because I’m supposed to be writing my wedding vows.” Callie’s eyes went a little wild at that, but she fluttered a hand in front of her and shook her head. “I can’t think about that right now. I’d much rather focus on Syd.”
Lori tapped her watch with a manicured fingernail. “It’s five o’clock. You promised you’d have them done and ready for me to read over by tonight.”
Syd stayed quiet. Partly because she’d been between these two for years and getting involved wouldn’t do any good, but also because she couldn’t stop staring at herself.
Her initial reaction had been shock and horror. But now, to the soundtrack of two of her favorite people bickering, she was starting to reconsider. All in all, she looked kind of…nice. The jean skirt that skimmed her knees was a faded denim wash that gave off a “What, this old thing?” effect without looking ratty.
It did showcase her legs in a positive light, especially when Callie had slid a new pair of Calliope nude-colored wedges on her feet. The heels gave her posture an instant boost and made her calves look long and lean.
The pièce de résistance, though, was the shirt.
/> If that was what it could be called. It was a stunning halter top made of the softest peach silk. The soft fabric was cut on the bias, so while the back half was long enough to skim across her bottom, the front was short and barely reached her belly button. It was loose and swingy around the waist, and the color made her lightly tanned skin glow.
But there was so much skin.
She squinted and turned to the side to examine her profile. One thing was for sure. If she wore this outfit, she’d have to pass on dinner. This was a salad-only ensemble. Had she ever owned one of those? She didn’t think so.
So did that mean she was actually contemplating going out with Laz? In Fairbanks?
The bickering had come to a halt, and Syd turned to face Callie as Lori stalked out of the room, muttering under her breath.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Syd said flatly.
“What?” Callie asked, the irritation on her face left over from her argument with Lori fading as indignation took its place. “Of course you can.”
“What if I see someone I know?” The thought of running into the girls who had made her entire high school career a misery made her stomach turn.
“While you’re out with Lazlo Stone?” Callie asked incredulously. “I’d say you’re in luck.”
Was she, though? What if people saw what she saw? A trailer-park girl with a rock-god guy. Although, if she didn’t see anyone she knew, maybe they wouldn’t guess about her past. “I feel like a phony. Are people going to stare at me if I wear this?”
Callie was all too familiar with the stares Syd had garnered growing up. Callie and Lori had been poor, but Lori had done her level best, working three jobs to make sure she and her baby sister had decent clothes. Syd hadn’t been so lucky, and there was one school year that she’d worn the same five outfits over and over, week after week. Needless to say, people had stared.
Callie’s eyes went soft. “Aw, sweetie. They’ll stare all right. But not for the reason you think.” She crossed the room to stand behind Syd and spin her back toward the mirror. “Look at yourself. For real, this time. Don’t think about what you looked like back then, or what you looked like an hour ago. Just look at yourself as you are, right now.”
Syd did as she was instructed.
“Your hair is beautiful. Long and so thick, most girls would kill to have hair like that.”
Was that true? It had always been a burden, except for the time her mother had cut it down to a boyish mullet in fourth grade because she was sick of having to brush it. But looking at it with a stranger’s eye, maybe it was kind of pretty.
It hung in gleaming chocolate waves around her shoulders due to some hot rollers and elbow grease on Callie’s part. All in all, if she saw someone with hair like that walking down the street, she’d think it was stylish and attractive.
“Still, the makeup is—”
“The makeup is stunning,” Callie finished. “The bronzy shadow brings out the blue in your eyes, and the blush makes you look as fresh as a daisy. Don’t forget those lips!” Callie grinned and shook her head slowly. “I’d sacrifice a goat for lips like that. The peach gloss only makes them look fuller.”
Syd took in the words, doing her damnedest not to brush them off without even really hearing them. The makeup had seemed so heavy-handed at first, but that was probably because she hardly wore any at all.
A swipe of mascara and some under-eye concealer was about the extent of it, except for at weddings and funerals where she’d been known to amp it up with some strawberry ChapStick. Hubba hubba. But now that she’d gotten over the surprise of seeing herself with a full face of makeup, she was sort of digging it.
“What about this,” Callie said holding up a beseeching hand. “Give it tonight. If you feel uncomfortable, you can go right back to being the old you tomorrow. It will be like it never happened. But if you like it?” She was practically wriggling with excitement. “That means we get to go shopping.”
Syd’s stomach pitched, and she bit her lip. This was part of what she’d been afraid of when Callie had suggested operation makeover. She didn’t have the funds to revamp her entire wardrobe right now, even with the influx of cash from all the wedding catering.
That money had to go right back into her business if she wanted it to continue to grow. She was torn because she knew if she told Callie that, her friend would immediately offer to foot the bill, and Syd refused to be a charity case.
“Closet shopping, I mean,” she added, patting her reassuringly on the back. “Me and Lori do it with each other all the time back home. She comes into my room and picks through all the stuff I haven’t worn or she likes and I’m sick of wearing, and vice versa. Now granted, we’re not all the same exact size, but there are a lot of pieces that will be close enough. And you know we have enough shoes.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “I think between me and Lori, we had to have brought forty pairs for the next ten days.”
The idea of closet shopping did make her feel better. She peered into the mirror and chewed on her lower lip. Surely her friend wouldn’t steer her wrong. If she looked foolish, either she or Lori would’ve told her so. Could she really be the girl in that reflection every day if she wanted to?
“What do you say? It will be so much fun. Plus it will take my mind off all this wedding stuff for a while. I’m seriously about to lose my mind. It doesn’t have to be permanent. You’re gorgeous either way. Just think of it as Norma Jean dressing up as Marilyn for the night. Maybe it will give the boost you need to make a decision on Laz. If you hate it, you can go back to your usual look tomorrow.”
Well, in that case. “I’ll do it.”
Callie clapped her hands in delight and began chattering like a magpie on speed about what hairstyle to try next and what clothes would flatter her frame best. Syd stood back, only half listening because she was focused on the one thing that had been in the back of her mind from the second Callie had dragged her into her room to play dress up.
What would Laz think of her new look? And, more disturbingly, why did it matter so very much?
…
Laz lounged against a leather armchair in the great room and glanced at his watch. 7:55. Syd had texted an hour earlier asking if he still wanted to go check out that band, and he hadn’t hesitated to pop off a quick “Absolutely.”
Now, after a quick shower and shave, he was settled in for the wait. She’d said eight o’clock, which meant eight forty-five in female ti—
“Thanks, Callie.”
He jerked his head up at the sound of Syd’s voice calling behind her from the stairwell. If his mother had been alive, she would’ve told him to scoop her up for her cooking skills and quirky sense of humor alone. Now she was punctual to boot?
Hell, if he hadn’t already come up close and personal with how hard it was to maintain a relationship while living musician’s lifestyle, he might’ve thought about it.
She rounded the corner and stopped short when she saw him.
Seeing her was like a gut punch. She was dressed casually. Fun, flirty skirt, pretty top. Perfect for a night of summer fun, but nothing over the top. Only this girl was Syd. Baggy pants, ponytailed, no makeup Syd. Had he told her she was pretty the other day? That was an understatement. She was a knockout.
His feet carried him toward her, and she wrung her hands together fitfully. Was she second-guessing her decision to come out with him, or was she nervous for another reason? He found himself not giving a shit.
He wanted…no, needed to talk to her. To see her up close. To smell her hair again. If she didn’t want to go anymore, she’d have to come right out and say it.
“Hey,” he said as he approached. Far away, she’d looked amazing, but up close it was a gut punch. He got the full effect of her cornflower blue eyes and noted the sexy sheen of her lips and the shine of her hair. And those shoes? Those alone would bring a lesser man to his knees. Although, he could think of worse things than being on his knees right now…
“Hey
. Have you been waiting long?”
He nodded before really processing the question. It took him a second to rewind and focus. “Uh, no, actually. I just came down.”
She shifted from foot to foot and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Have you eaten dinner or…?”
Of course that would be her first concern. “No, but Rock says the chicken you left in the oven is off the chain. If this keeps up, he’s going to be such a fat bastard he won’t be able to fit behind the drum kit. I thought we could get a bite out.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. In fact, her nervousness only seemed more pronounced the longer they stood there.
“Are you one of those girls that cooks but only eats salad?” Please say no, a little voice in his head whispered. That was a huge issue for him. If a woman couldn’t go out and enjoy a nice steak or a burger with a glass of wine or a beer followed by a shared hunk of cheesecake and coffee, what was the point of living?
She chuckled, giving him another view of the dimple in her right cheek that he liked so much.
“I wish. If I was one of those girls, maybe I’d fit into this skirt better. It’s Callie’s, and I’m about a maraschino cherry away from busting right out of it. I’m afraid I’m going to have to rely on you to be my mouth until later tonight when I get out of this skirt.”
Ten different sexy visuals hit him all at once. Syd stripping off that skirt, maraschino cherry clenched between her pretty white teeth, standing in the middle of his room, relying on him to be her mouth. He didn’t realize he was immobile, just staring at her, lost in thought, until her eyes widened.
“What? Do I have lipstick on my teeth or something?” she asked frantically.
“No,” he said, snapping back to reality. “You look great. Better than great. You look stunning.”
Reforming the Rock Star Page 6