by Maggie Marr
I let a smile pull across my lips. “This might be tricky then,” I said. But whether it was difficult or tricky or not, I knew I had to convince Rhett to release his album as Rhett Legend. It would be good for him and good for Left Coast. There were no options otherwise.
Rhett
Last night I had sent Terrell my two final songs. Once the band was back in town I’d sat in the garage at Trevor’s house while the band worked on the music. My voice was in my head with each riff, each note, each bit. I was ready for tomorrow. I was ready to finish this album and see it drop. Terrell had listened to what the band had managed to work out, said he had a couple of additions, and would see us all tomorrow.
Tomorrow was now today, and my stomach was in a knot. I hadn’t sung a note in nearly two weeks. I’d rested my voice, I drank tea, I’d given up cigarettes—but missed them every damn day—and I even rubbed the brown eucalyptus goop onto my throat every morning when I woke up, and every night before I went to bed.
Of course I would have preferred Tasha rubbing the ointment onto my neck but after that first day, when her rubbing my neck led to me rubbing and licking her, she’d disappeared. She texted to check on my voice but she didn’t call again or come by my apartment. I did know from my sisters, all three of them, that she’d made an appearance at some baby thing Amanda had at her house for Lane MacAvoy.
I heard Sophia was finally calling herself a Legend. She’d always wanted to use Dad’s name. She’d chomped at the bit to call herself a Legend and it had been only my mother’s threats and my uncle’s stern eye that convinced Sophia that calling herself a Legend would be more painful than beneficial. But now? Now with Sophia ready to take the Legend name and having been accepted by Amanda and Amanda’s famous friends? Sophia would be flying high, acquiring every last perk that came with being Steve Legend’s daughter.
She had no pride. Or at least not the same kind of pride that I carried on my shoulder.
I had no desire to be named after that bastard. The same guy one who had pretended during my entire life that my mother, my sisters, and me were some deep dark dirty secret. All the while his two legitimate children sat in the spotlight being Legends. Being referred to as shadow children wasn’t just because Dad had us with another woman while he was married. No. Being shadow children was because Dad had fathered us with the help. If Mom had been some Spanish actress or Italian opera singer there is no way Dad would have let us remain in the shadows. The world would have known about us, but because my mother scrubbed his toilets, Dad had chosen not to let anyone know about us.
The whole fucked-up scenario made me angry at Mom. Why would she put up with that shit? For her entire life? What was she thinking to let Dad come and go and do what he wanted, then take his money and have his children? The whole setup had burned my belly for years. I’d told the old man, too, on more than one occasion. He didn’t care. He’d never cared about what anyone, aside from the press, had to say about him.
I sped my bike down Sunset to the recording studio. The band was already here. Darren’s grey van was parked in back and he stood beside Trevor and smoked a butt.
“Man, you finally ready for this shit?” Darren called.
I nodded and got off the bike.
“Can you talk?” Darren asked. He flicked the smoking remainder onto the pavement. “Have you even talked in three weeks?” he asked as I looked longingly at the remnants of his cigarette.
I shook my head no. I seriously hadn’t said anything since the night I’d eaten pie with Tasha in that late night diner. It was fear. Cold hard fear. Fear that I’d been given my one shot and I’d fucked it up, simply because I lost my voice and couldn’t get it back. I slipped my keys into my leather jacket and headed into the studio. Trevor and Darren and Max trailed me. As soon as I entered, cool air mixed with the scents of magnolia and vanilla hit my face. Tasha.
I turned toward the soundboard. She stood there with her back toward me in snakeskin leggings and a tight white shirt. She leaned head to head with Terrell, speaking with him. Her long amber colored locks spread over her back. I fought the urge to walk up behind her and press my body to hers. To take my hands and clasp that perfectly round ass. To lift that mane of hair and nibble under her ear and down her neck. A smile lifted the corner of my mouth at the thought. What would she do? What would Miss President of Left Coast Records do if I walked up behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and grasped both her breasts?
She’d probably bust my nose with her fist is what she’d do. Then I really wouldn’t smile, nor would I sing. Tasha didn’t suffer fools. Nor did she want anyone to get a whiff of the fact that she’d broken her important rule about not dating musicians. Especially not musicians on her label. But we hadn’t really dated. I’d simply rubbed her clitoris and finger-fucked her until she came.
Her body stiffened and I saw the reflection of her eyes in the glass. She knew I was here. Her gaze locked with mine and she cocked her head over her shoulder and looked at me. A heat built in my belly and my hands fisted and opened. I wanted to slide them over her arms, that bared skin and then—
“How’s the voice?” she asked. Both she and Terrell looked at me. I nodded but didn’t answer. Her gaze raked over my skin and I let my eyes travel across her body. Her tongue chased over her bottom lip. My eyes dropped to her breasts and sure enough, her nipples tightened under my gaze.
Oh, yeah, Miss President could play it cool. But this heat had me ready to bend her over the soundboard and thrust my cock into her—she felt it, too. I looked up into her eyes and her pupils dilated. I sent her a look to let her know she wasn’t fooling me. She might fool everyone else in this room, with her hip cocked to the side and that nonchalant expression on her face, but I wasn’t buying her bullshit. I wanted her and she definitely wanted me.
She cleared her throat and her voice cracked the tiniest bit when she spoke. “Everyone is here and we’re ready. Terrell and I’ve discussed the last three songs. We’re good to go.”
Without a word I walked through the door and into the recording studio. I’d warmed up at home and the studio was all of two miles from my place. The band was ready. Darren on drums, Trevor on bass, and Max on guitar. I grabbed my guitar, which Darren had tuned up for me. Darren beat his sticks together and the music started. After one long deep intake of breath, I let my pipes go.
Tasha
Rhett was a star. His body vibrated with the music. The intensity of his rough voice was like him running his fingertips over my bare skin. Heat poured through me as his song ran like velvet over every part of my body. My sex clamped when his dark black eyes locked onto me. Even through the glass, even beyond his reach, that energy pulled at me like an electric cord that was plugged into his megastar wattage.
“He has it,” Terrell said. He sat beside me and his head bobbed to this, Rhett’s third tune. With each song the music got better, sexier, dirtier, rougher. And now in his hard sounding bluesy sex-filled rock and roll song, if I didn’t know better I would strip off my panties and throw them into the recording studio.
Terrell turned to me. “You’ve got yourself a hit, Tash.”
I smiled. Left Coast had a hit. What I had was a package of trouble all bound up in a sexy-smelling, wicked-smiling, black-eyed, well-muscled piece of man that I desperately wanted to fuck. The song ended with a long drawn out note of reverberation that pierced the room.
Terrell clicked the microphone. “That voice sounds good, man. How’s it feeling?”
Rhett smiled, nodded, and gave Terrell two thumbs up. Terrell clicked the mic off. “We could cut one more of the same song just to be safe, but Rhett nailed it on the first take.”
“Sounded amazing to me,” I said. “And I trust your ears more than mine.”
Terrell smiled and clicked the microphone. “Fellas, got it. I think Left Coast has just found their next big sound,” he said. He clicked the microphone again. “That’s it fellas, that’s a wrap.”
A cheer went up in the
recording studio as the guys clapped and Darren gave his drum a bang with his sticks. They all filed out of the box just as Mikey, our sound engineer, popped a bottle of champagne. He poured the Veuve into seven plastic cups.
“To Bad Double,” Terrell said. “You guys are going to rock your way to the top of the charts. What a sound!”
We all clinked glasses. Rhett’s eyes locked with mine. The heat that I wanted to ignore, the connection that was as strong as a magnet on metal, flew between us. I’d heard him; he was a great vocalist with depth and range and a smoky sound that would entice millions of girls.
Millions of girls.
A tremor rushed through my body. Girls who were in love with rock gods were persistent and unstoppable. I knew from experience how determined girls could be. Sleeping with Rhett would become like big-game hunting for some of them. How many times could a man turn his back when a naked supermodel showed up in his bed? Or a gorgeous actress? Once? Twice? Three times?
I turned back toward the soundboard and looked into the recording studio. I knew music and I knew musicians. They were human, and yet, a unique breed unto themselves. I wouldn’t be part of that life. Not again. And I wasn’t the type of girl to simply have sex and hold my heart apart from the action. No. I glanced into the glass of the sound booth and saw the reflection of Rhett. That angled nose and strong chin sloped down to a hard body that my hands wanted to grasp and touch. I’d walked that path once and wouldn’t walk it again. I pulled my eyes away from the reflection. I had too many things to accomplish with Left Coast and too much knowledge about what would happen in Rhett’s life over the next year to be fool enough to let myself fall for him.
“Hey.”
My body pulsed and tightened. His breath brushed just under my ear. I felt him close to my back. I turned. He was right there. Every bit of that hard flesh so near to me. Too near. I was backed against the soundboard. His lips were so close to mine. The sweet scent of mint on his lips.
“Thank you,” Rhett said. His black-eyed gaze locked with mine. Heat rolled through my body. Without even touching me, Rhett caused my whole body to want and need.
“Of course,” I said. I pulled deep within myself to try and ignore the desire flowing through me thick and fast and unrelenting. “You did all the work. The final songs were amazing.”
He reached out toward me, his fingertips ready to push a strand of hair back over my shoulder. My eyes darted past him, toward Terrell and the rest of the band. This wasn’t what I wanted them to see. This moment was too intimate. His hand froze midair and he dropped it to his side. His face looked torn, sad, as though he knew that this was me saying no.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said. He took two steps away from me. While I’d wanted space between us, the distance, the look in his eye that seemed to accept what this was what I needed, caused an ache in my chest.
“Rhett, man, you ready?” Terrell called from across the room.
“Sure, man, let’s hit it.” His gaze locked with mine one final time. A bright ember flamed in his eyes. He took a step closer. “Just remember Tasha, I always get what I want, and right now, what I want is you.”
Air rushed from my lungs. Heat burst through my belly. My nipples hardened with a promise that my mind didn’t want Rhett to keep, but that my body desperately hoped he would. Rhett spun on his heels and walked toward his bandmates and his producer.
“See you over there,” Terrell called.
I nodded and waved. The room emptied and I pressed both hands to the metal edge of the soundboard and took a long deep breath. The air filled my lungs and cooled the heat roaring inside me. The pure unadulterated heat of Rhett caused my knees to tremble and my head to twirl. If Rhett set his sights on a woman how could she ever say no?
I looked at my own face reflected in the glass. I was determined to be the one woman that would forever say no to Rhett Legend Delgado.
The millions of girls that Rhett would entice wouldn’t be my problem. And I would make damn sure that it never was because I didn’t intend to slip up again and let my desires get a hold of me like they had at Rhett’s apartment. That had been me simply surrendering to my want when I was vulnerable and afraid for Left Coast and feeling bad for Rhett because of his laryngitis. Wasn’t it? I wouldn’t think about any of this right now. Definitely not now, because right now I simply wanted to celebrate with Rhett and the rest of the band. Celebrate the possibility of his genius and star quality saving my business.
Rhett
The party had moved to a private room in the back of The London. The boys had called their girls and the girls brought friends. Scantily clad ladies in tight tops, high heels, and short skirts danced around the furniture. There was eye candy for days, but I was done with that eye candy. My sweet tooth only wanted one woman.
Damn.
I’d never only wanted one woman. Now, with this desire heavy in my belly, I knew that tasting one of these treats would be like drinking a Coca-Cola on a hot summer day. Tasha was water. Cool, pure, wonderful water that would slake my thirst and nourish me. Tasha was what I wanted.
I tipped my beer upward and took a long drink. She stood on the far side of the room talking to Darren. She hadn’t come close to me since we’d left the recording studio and I knew why. Her eyes flashed and her pupils dilated when I was near. The timbre of her voice and her body language even changed when I was close to her. She was fighting this attraction. Let her fight. Fine. I always got what I wanted and I intended to get Tasha. She could try to ignore this attraction, she could even delude her smart self into thinking that she wouldn’t let what happened at my apartment happen again, but I knew different. I knew when she flipped her hair over her shoulder and that soft tongue moistened that brilliant cushion of a lip, when her eyes slid to the left, because she thought that I wouldn’t notice her checking me out, I knew with all these little signs that there was no way to fight what was between us. Fine. Let her try.
I walked toward Tasha and Darren when a bit of eye candy named Larissa wrapped her arms around Darren’s neck and pulled him onto one of the couches in a dark corner of the room.
“So what’s next?” I asked. Tasha leaned her shoulder against a wall and I braced my hand above her. The crew had hit the dance floor and Tasha and I were alone. Terrell had added some of his friends and the party was quickly outgrowing the VIP section of the club.
“Next? Next we discuss promotions and marketing. How we get the world to fall in love with Rhett Delgado.”
“Will that be difficult?” I asked. I leaned closer to Tasha. “To convince the ladies to fall in love with me?”
Tasha tipped her glass of champagne to her lips. Her gaze locked with mine. Heat flashed in her eyes. “Doesn’t seem like it’s ever been difficult for you to convince the ladies to fall for you.”
“Not in the past,” I said. “I seem to be having some difficulty now.”
A grin formed over her lips. “Sometimes what we think we want isn’t good for us,” she said.
“And sometimes the things that aren’t good for us, are actually the best.”
She laughed at that comment. “Oh, Rhett, baby, I think I was clear. I’ve done my musician phase and I’m finished.”
“Your words say one thing, but your eyes and your body”—my gaze roamed up over her body and her nipples tightened beneath her shirt—“say something different.”
The coy smile on her face slipped a millimeter, but she recovered her composure quickly. More quickly than I would have liked. Tasha was different, so very different from any woman I’d been with. First, I was pursuing her—something I’d never had to do before. Second, she kept telling me no—a word I never heard when it came to women.
“You forget? I grew up with musicians. I’ve been around them since I was born. I love them, I really do. Your voice, the way you can write, the soul that comes through your music. It’s just”—she paused and she looked toward all the bodies writhing on the dance floor—“
it’s just not a lifestyle that I want.”
“I’m not talking about a lifestyle,” I said. I lifted her hair from her shoulder and placed it behind her ear. “I’m talking about two people who can barely stand all this heat. I know you feel it. You felt it when you were at my place, and you ran. Like a scared little bunny. I’m not asking for forever. I’m just asking for now.”
“And that’s the problem,” Tasha said. “I don’t do ‘just for now.’ When I’m in, I’m all in, and that’s not what guys like you do. Look, I get it, and I respect it, but you have to respect where I’m coming from. I’ve played all I need to play. I don’t want to put my heart out there knowing that we want two different things.”
Her heart? She would be putting her heart out there? I scrunched my eyebrows. No, I didn’t want Tasha’s heart. I barely wanted my own. The damn thing nearly broke me on a daily basis. Pain and anger and hurt were constant companions when you were a superstar’s hidden family. “Tasha—”
A ripple went through the club. Tasha turned her head to watch a group of girls nearly swoon and part like the Red fucking Sea. “Never fails,” she said.
The guy who parted the crowd strode through the room with a girl on each arm and a couple hotties trailing behind.
“Tash! Babe! You’re out on the town celebrating your next big artist and you didn’t text?”
“Hey, Johnny,” she said and kissed each of his cheeks. He pulled her in close and planted a kiss on her lips.
“Babe, no one ever tastes as good as you.”
Heat burst through my belly. Heat over this guy waltzing into the club on my night, and my band’s night, and grabbing this girl that I really wanted for myself. Tasha cocked an eyebrow like she’d heard everything Johnny Tucker had to say. She backed away from Johnny and turned to me.