Lucky Ball

by Lisa N. Paul

  Using a tactic learned earlier that night from Ms. Scented and Demented, Wren cleared her throat. “Um, hi, I’m Emmy’s friend Wren.”

  Emmy peeled herself away from her boss’s lips, but his arm stayed wrapped tightly around her waist. The man was undoubtedly into her, and from the hunger Wren saw in his eyes, she didn’t think it was as simple an arrangement as Emmy had described.

  “I’m William.” He held out his hand, tattoos running up his arm. “I’ve heard a lot about you over the past two years, Wren. Nice to finally meet you.” After giving Emmy another indecent-for-public-consumption kiss, he said, “Came here right from work. I left a bag with the bouncer, so let me change my clothes real quick, and I’ll be back. When the waiter comes by, can you order me bourbon neat, please?”

  Emmy nodded, and William strode away. The temperature lowered about ten degrees once he was out of arm’s reach.

  “You’ve been working for him? No wonder you don’t mind the overtime.”

  “I know.” Emmy’s brows wagged as a wicked smirk perched on her lips. “The man has been part of my fantasies since I started at the firm. Obviously I stayed away though. I may be a lot of things, but I’d never poach another woman’s man. Now that he’s single…” Emmy sighed. “There are no words, Wrenny. No freaking words to describe what he does to me.”

  “Thought you said I was the best you ever had.” Wren hadn’t heard Smith approach, but clearly he had heard their conversation.

  Wren saw Emmy’s pulse beat in her neck and knew no good would come from the encounter. “Smith, it would be best if you—”

  “You were. Until you weren’t.” Emmy’s eyes narrowed into slits, her tone filled with icy fractures.

  “Emmaline, I want to talk to you. I messed up, I—”

  “You, you, you. It’s all about you, Smith. Guess what? I don’t care about you! You wanted me, and that’s what I gave you. You didn’t want me anymore, so I left. I’m not a game player. Tried to tell you that, but you didn’t listen. So let’s try this listening thing again—go away. You had your turn and blew it. I don’t forgive; I don’t forget. I’m done.”

  Smith recoiled, a flash of pain on his face. “Emmaline—”

  “I heard her tell you to leave her alone, buddy. You let her go. Obviously you now see the error of your ways, so I’m thinking you don’t want to hurt her anymore, right?” William stood beside Emmy, one arm wrapped around her waist as the other hung loose at his side. His statement was a warning wrapped in a calm delivery.

  “Emmaline—”

  “Enough, Smith. I’m done.” Emmy turned her back to Logan’s best friend and sat at the table.

  William pushed her chair in and joined her. Wren mouthed, “I’m sorry,” to Smith just before he headed for the door. The truth was, Wren was sorry. She’d liked Emmy and Smith together. It was a shame the guy had made a careless mistake that cost him what very well may be the love of his life.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Loud And Clear

  “Down here, it’s our time,” Marcus said into the huddle before the guys marched up on the small stage.

  Logan grinned before reciting the phrase his instructors told each student before every show. “Whatever happens out there, just remember to have fun.”

  Having rehearsed with the guys for weeks, playing with them felt like breathing—natural, instantaneous, certain. Performing in front of an audience was exhilarating. Walking away from the rock star lifestyle was a choice he’d never regretted, but giving up jamming with his brothers was something he’d never get over.

  As each song blended into the next, the music flowed through Logan’s veins. He’d written each word, heard them recorded by the guys, and loved by the world, yet somehow, singing them for Wren, knowing that she connected to them, made every second of the performance better than any he had played before. Her blue eyes followed him across the stage, absorbing his every move. It was erotic. It was foreplay. It was him making love to her with his music and fucking her with his words. Thank God for the guitar, or everyone would see the hard-on he sported for the hour and a half he stood onstage.

  Being a performer, Logan knew exactly how to please the whole crowd. By the way the women chanted and howled, they thought his long gazes and playful winks were for them. The men cheered when the band rocked hard, and the room exploded when the guys took their final bow and left the stage.

  “Heaven—pure fucking heaven,” Noah screamed as the foursome walked into the manager’s office.

  “Enders, it’s Wren, right?” Marcus asked.

  “Huh?”

  “She’s the reason your performance is off the fucking charts. Dude, I’m thinking Greg should take his time recovering and you should pick up some more shows, man. You’re better than you used to be, and you used to blow the fucking roof off.”

  “First, I’m telling Greg you said that. Recovering or not, he’s gonna kick your ass,” Logan warned, and Noah and Ethan chuckled. “Second, two more shows. That’s all I’ve got. Seeing Wren out there, watching me…she’s…” He wasn’t ready to put his feelings into words—hell if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t ready to put his true feelings into thoughts—so he kept it simple. “I still don’t want a celebrity life. Having Wren reminds me how much I like my privacy.”

  Hands held up in submission, Marcus sighed. “Okay. I hear you loud and clear. Uh, bro, do me a solid and don’t tell Greg what I said?”

  “Dude, we’re so telling him.” Ethan laughed as he took the last hit off his joint.

  “Fuck you, guys.” Marcus snorted. “Greg’s been trying to get Logan to come back for years. The guy would shit if I actually succeeded.”

  “It’s not happening, ladies. Now let’s go. I wanna see my girl.”

  “I’ve got a little purple flower I’d like to make time with as well,” Ethan mumbled as he opened the office door.

  Shaking his head, Logan said to his friend, “So the nasty look and complete disregard to your existence meant nothing to you?”

  “Yeah.” Ethan grinned. “It meant I’m gonna need to cultivate that violet before I pick it.”

  *

  “Logan, Logan, can we get a picture with you?”

  The same question was asked eleventy billion times after Logan and the guys made their way back to the reserved table where Wren, Emmy, and William waited.

  Wren took photos then re-took them when two of the four women thought they looked fat, silly, and old. But she only took one or two shots after the first five or six requests, because all the women seemed to suffer from the same afflictions. She rolled her eyes when, after eight attempts, a small group still wasn’t satisfied.

  “Listen ladies, this is a selfie, not a photo shoot. Logan and his girlfriend have been a shit load nicer than I would be in the same situation, so now that you have your brag picture, take your phone and shove it up your fat, silly-looking old asses. Go away.” Emmy was the best. Inebriated Emmy was the bomb.

  Gasping, the ladies stared at each other and scurried away.

  “Damn, you are a feisty little tiger, aren’t you?” Marcus directed his question to Emmy before his gaze roamed the bar.

  Wren assumed he was searching for his brother. “Um, if you’re looking for Smith, he left.”

  When Marcus’s gaze landed on Wren, she shifted her eyes to Emmy, praying Marcus would get the hint. A slight nod assured her that he did.

  “Hey, guys, can my friend and I get a pic with y’all?” a bouncy redhead asked in an animated southern drawl.

  Once again, Wren took the phone and placed some distance between her and the subjects. The difference between the three band members and Logan still amazed her. Marcus, Ethan, and Noah were relaxed as they leaned into each other, wrapping their arms around either the girls’ shoulders or hips, while Logan smiled his sexy smile but kept his hands to himself. His unease with public attention shouldn’t have given Wren pleasure, but it did.

  Watching Shades of Cert
ainty perform had always been an unbelievable experience, but watching them with Logan as the front man made it epic. The man was born to sing and play, was created to do it all in front of millions. He claimed he didn’t want the life of a rock star, but how long could he avoid the inevitable? Eventually he would follow his dreams. Right?

  “Hey, beautiful, you ready to get out of here?” Smoldering eyes raked over her, making her thoughts scatter and goose bumps erupt on every inch of her skin.

  “Only if you are. I wouldn’t want to take you away from your fans.”

  “You’re the only fan I want to be with.”

  Good answer.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said. “I’ve got some energy to burn, and I know just how I wanna burn it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Rock God Possibilities

  Whether it was the bright sun streaming through the window or the cuddly man spooned behind her naked body, Wren eased awake, cozy and warm. She felt soft kisses on her shoulder and firm fingers lightly stroking between her thighs.

  “You sleep like the dead,” Logan whispered. His hard cock nestled in the slit of her ass.

  Grinding her ass into his hardness, she smiled when he moaned. “I was exhausted. Watching you play really wore me out.” She giggled as she reached between her legs and stroked his erection, earning another breathy moan. “Not to mention helping you burn off all that performance adrenaline. It’s hard work being the girlfriend of a rock god.”

  His hand stilled at her entrance, and she felt him inhale a deep breath. “I think we need to talk about the whole music career thing.”

  Here it comes. He’s finally going to join his band. She couldn’t listen to it just yet, not while they were together in bed. She needed these moments to be about them and nothing else, because once he told her he was joining Shades of Certainty, everything would change.

  “Shh,” she said, turning to face him. “Let’s focus on what’s happening right here, right now in this bed, and worry about everything else later.”

  Climbing astride his perfect body, Wren ran her hands over his taut flesh. His warmth was inviting, the pounding of his heart beneath her palm exhilarating, and his masculine scent intoxicating. She wanted everything he had to offer, even if it was only temporary.

  *

  Her creamy thighs spread across his torso, rubbing her swollen sex against his aching cock. She was wet with arousal from his earlier touches, and Logan wanted nothing more than to taste her before finally sinking himself home.

  Every logical part of his brain told him that Wren wanted him for who he currently was and not for the rock star he would never be, but he felt it was more than necessary to make sure. “Wren…”

  “I want you, Logan. Please.”

  The plea was barely out of her mouth before Logan reached for a condom and gave her what they both wanted—moments trapped in each other where nothing else mattered.

  *

  “I’m starving. Can’t wait to get to Stella’s,” Logan said as Wren stepped into her Converse and tossed her outfit from the night before into the overnight bag she’d brought to his place. It was the first time she had spent the night in his home, in his bed, and he already felt as though she belonged there.

  “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you—how’s Matty Davis doing in rehearsals? I’ve been thinking about that sweet little guy.”

  “He’s been great, babe. That pep talk you gave him really did the trick.”

  “Aw, I’m so glad.”

  “You were great with him. A natural…” He wondered if now was the time to tell her she was wasting her time by not doing the very thing she longed to do—teach.

  A tentative smile caressed her lips. “Thank you.”

  “Wren…” Don’t say it, Enders. This isn’t the time. But his mouth refused to listen to his brain. “I don’t understand something. You were obviously meant to be a teacher. I get that you couldn’t go to graduate school, but why didn’t you choose to work with kids anyway? A private school, a daycare, camp counselor or even after school programs would have been great for you and most of them don’t require a master’s degree. Why did you give up on something you wanted, something you would have been great at, for a job that will lead you nowhere?”

  Her quiet gasp could have been a warrior’s cry from the hurt in her eyes. Without saying a word, Wren lifted her bag over her shoulder, sidestepped Logan, and walked out of his room.

  “Wren, wait.” He followed her into his family room and rested his hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to offend you, believe me. It’s just that you have so much talent, such a way with kids… with people. I hate to see you walk away from your dream because your ball told you it was the right thing to do.”

  “Me?” she asked, her voice quiet but no less firm. “What about you? You were already a success and about to explode into stardom, and you just walked away from your band… from your dreams. I have eyes. I see you up on stage, having the time of your life. And guess what? You should be! You were born to be a rock star. So let me ask you the same question—what about your dreams?”

  “I’m living my dream.” Logan inhaled deeply. It was the perfect time to put his concerns to rest. “The guys and I all had the same goal—to share our music with the world. We just followed different paths. For them, it’s about the show, the music, the life. For me, it’s only about the music. Yes, I absolutely loved—love—performing. Christ, it’s a feeling I can’t begin to describe. But when the opportunity presented itself, I couldn’t fathom the thought of living my entire existence in the spotlight. My fans deserve the best of me, but I knew, even back then, I’d never want them to have all of me. And if I had reservations, it wouldn’t have been fair to string along the guys.”

  Her tone softened. “But didn’t your quitting hurt them?”

  “I would have sacrificed my happiness if I didn’t think they could make it without me, but Greg was a machine with the vocals. Sure, I can admit now my ego took a bit of a hit, but I had no doubt they’d be fine performing without me. The record label wanted all of us, but they were willing to take a chance on the four of them as long as I stayed on as the song writer and backup lead vocalist in case anything happened to Greg during the tour. They signed Shades of Certainty for a lesser contract at first, since they were worried about the band without me, and added a clause to renegotiate the terms after the first album. That was eight years, three platinum albums, and eleven number one songs ago. I think they’re doing a-okay. And I couldn’t be happier with the path I chose.”

  Tiny lines between Wren’s eyebrows indicated some doubt still loomed in her beautiful mind. “You’re really great on stage.”

  “Yeah, I am.” He didn’t bother hiding his grin.

  “Modest too.” Her overnight bag slid from her shoulder to her hand. “Seriously, you’re really talented. Are you sure you don’t want to rethink your career?”

  He felt the grin leave his face and a grimace took its place. “Are you only into me because of my rock god possibilities?” He did his best to keep levity in his voice.

  “No, I’m into you in spite of them. Hearing you sing, watching you play, it does things to me that I can’t begin to explain. But watching how you affect other people…” Her cheeks flushed as she fumbled for the right words. “It’s difficult to share you with so many.”

  “You don’t share me with anyone, Lucky. Understand? Even when I’m on stage, the only person I’m singing to is you, because you’re the only woman who occupies my mind.”

  “I love that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Fortune Ball Is Never Wrong

  “That’s some interesting foot attire you’ve got going on there, Lucky.”

  Having Logan’s arms around her was the best part of her crappy Tuesday thus far. With her head buried in his broad chest, she muttered a response that sounded muffled even to her own ears.

  “Sorry, babe, I don’t understand
marble-mouth.”

  Staying wrapped in his warmth, Wren tilted back her head. “I said, they’re Mrs. Russell’s kitten slippers.” She looked at the fuzzy footwear and felt tears sting the backs of her eyes. “The brand-new shoes I wore to work got drenched in the rain, and they’re a complete mess. Mrs. Russell keeps these in her locker for when her feet get tired. She lent them to me until my shoes dry.” Uhh, the thought of her waterlogged and ruined suede ballet flats made her stomach lurch.

  “What happened?”

  “I asked the FEB if I should wear them to work today, and it told me yes. So I did.”

  Tucking loose hair behind her ear, he softly replied, “Maybe you should have checked the weather instead of the ball, babe. They’ve been predicting rain since yesterday morning.”

  His comment wasn’t rude or snide, but it irked her all the same. Obviously if she had checked the weather she wouldn’t have worn the shoes, but the FEB said it was okay. Why would it have done that? “Obviously there was a lesson I needed to learn,” Wren said more to herself than to Logan.

  “I can’t wait to hear this. What lesson could you possibly have learned from wet feet and ruined shoes that you so clearly adored?”

  It took a minute for her to process before understanding finally clicked. “I was careless. It was more important for me to wear the shoes than it was for me to take the time to waterproof them. They sat in my closet for almost a week untreated. You can bet I won’t make that mistake a second time.”

  Logan’s brows furrowed as he stared at her in silence.

  “What’s that look for?” she asked.