(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5)

by Michelle Mankin

  Chapter Twenty-One

  * * *

  “You’re very serious.” I reached out and touched Max.

  My stomach flipped over, not only from his eloquence, but from the contact with his warm skin. His forehead furrowed at my words, and I smoothed the crease. Meanwhile, my heart wanted to kneel down on the floor to lay itself at his feet.

  “I’m a serious guy. A loner, like they’re calling you, but I don’t see you that way. You’re isolated by your career and the demands it puts on you. You have many friends who care about you and a deep friendship with your sister that I’m afraid you’re going to throw away.”

  “How can you know me so well?”

  “I watch. I listen. Part of that’s my job, the other, I admit, is my growing enchantment with you.”

  “I’m just as captivated by you, Max.”

  “I’ve noticed.” His lips curved up on one side, the point of origin for a vertical grove on that same side. My serious bodyguard’s version of a smile.

  I ran my thumb through the crater. It deepened beneath my caress, and the blue in his gaze twinkled like the surface of the ocean at midnight.

  “We’re here, shug. Together. Now. We have to wait to advance the physical part of our relationship, given your age, but let’s not waste this opportunity. We both know life doesn’t often give us much more than a chance at the good things.”

  “Less than a breath of one sometimes,” I whispered, moving my hand to frame the sharp edge of his jaw. Staring into his eyes, I marveled at the depth of emotion within them.

  “You know my history. The losses tallied higher than the rewards. Until you.”

  That did me in. I slid off the bed and dropped to my knees in front of him. My heart had already taken the leap without me . . . my body and the rest might as well follow.

  “Careful.” He steadied me with his hands on my shoulders.

  “If I were being careful, I wouldn’t be doing this.” I framed his handsome face, fascinated by the perfection of his features and the denseness of the gold stubble that coated his chin. The rough texture was pleasing and so different from mine. It made me feel so very feminine in comparison.

  “Max.” I sighed his name while within me swelled a poignant ache to be connected to him. I slid my fingers into his hair. “Can I?” My lips tingled as I drew his face closer. “That is, if it’s okay, I want to kiss you.”

  “I want you to.”

  He angled his head one way. My heart thrumming, my breath held, I turned mine the other. My stomach flipped over when he let out a deep, needful groan. Our mouths only an inch apart, I closed my eyes for a moment as his warm, minty breath bathed my lips.

  “But we can’t, shug. Not yet.” He captured my hands and removed them from his hair.

  My fingers felt bereft. Disappointment burned hot in my chest, and my cheeks flushed. He brought my captured hands to his lips and peered at me over them a long moment before he pressed a soft kiss to my skin.

  “Soon.” He breathed the promise into one of my hands and then sealed it with a kiss.

  My bare toes curled as shimmering ribbons of pleasure spiraled through me. My breasts full, nipples tight, heart heavy—known and unknown parts of me simultaneously pulsed and ached.

  “If I don’t die first from waiting,” I muttered, longing for so much more than his lips on my skin.

  He bowed his head over my hands, and his shoulders shook. He emitted a creaking noise that reminded me of how the doors on Fanny’s Woodie Wagon had sounded before the rust had been removed from the metal hinges.

  When he lifted his head, I realized what a rarity I’d heard—a deep belly laugh. Max had matching vertical grooves in his cheeks now. And his eyes no longer merely sparkled, they danced like moonbeams over water.

  Something rose within me that was way more than physical. Staring into his eyes, knowing I had the power to lighten his heart the way he lightened mine, I felt a soul-level satisfaction that resonated deeper than any I’d ever experienced before.

  I licked my lips and his gaze dropped to my mouth.

  “Temptress,” he said when he met my eyes again.

  “Tease.” I bit back my smile. The world didn’t seem like such a dire place when it was just the two of us like this.

  I swallowed, and my tone brightened to match my spirit. “If you’re going to stay in my room with me tonight—and just to clarify, this is me extending an invitation to you to remain—you probably should put on more than just a towel.”

  “And you more than those skimpy pajamas.”

  “I can wear one of your T-shirts if you’ll lend me one, and I have some yoga pants.”

  “Those pants are hardly better than the pajamas. They cling like they’re painted onto your sexy ass.”

  “You’re the one who insists on this artificial deadline. If you don’t have the willpower to enforce it, I certainly won’t object to you being in my bed sooner for more than just sleeping.”

  “Hollie,” he warned, his jaw firm. “Don’t.”

  “It’s just a date on a calendar. There’s nothing that will substantially change between us in the next several days.”

  “Maybe not. But to me, it’s a matter of my honor.” Max stood and offered me his hand.

  I placed my fingers in his readily, letting him help me to my feet. In the process, I tried and failed not to peek at the parting of his towel. He wasn’t unaffected by me. Far from it. Just a glimpse of his jutting appendage doused my entire body in a rush of heated anticipation.

  “The waiting will be agony.” His grooves reappeared. “On both of us, shug, no doubt.”

  He brought his hands to my face and swept his thumbs over the blushed round of my cheeks. “But try not to tempt me too much.”

  No longer teasing, he peered deeply into my eyes, his expression warm and his regard measurably hot. “Your birthday might be only a date on a calendar to you, but to me it’s more about building trust between us. I want a well-established foundation underneath us before we take things to the next level. I need you to know you can trust me to keep my word. That I respect you. That in every aspect of our relationship, your desires and expectations will be met. That you, not anyone or anything else, are my sole priority.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  * * *

  “Can’t you see she’s exhausted?” Max frowned.

  His image was a reflection in the glass in front of me. In reality, he stood a couple of feet behind me. He crossed his arms over his impressive chest, looking as intimidating as he had all day.

  Beside him, Olivia had her ear to her phone, as it had remained throughout most of the day—when she hadn’t been fussing at me.

  “It’s okay. I need to talk to him. I’ve put it off long enough.” I turned away from the reflective window and the view of the New York City skyline lit up at night. The city that never sleeps twinkled invitingly from outside the Intercontinental Hotel’s penthouse.

  After I signed the contract with Valentine, $10 million was deposited into my bank account. The money would certainly allow me to publicly state my case in the media from coast to coast, and later it would help pay for the best attorneys for the eventual trial. But even though the opulence and space that surrounded me was nice, the wear and stress of the day weighed on me.

  I’d been up since four a.m. Pacific time. I’d endured a flight from one coast to the other with Olivia peppering me with questions the entire way. I’d taped a segment of Behind the Stars, sticking to the same basic script that I had on Sasha’s show, but skating on a razor’s edge that close to the truth left me feeling unsettled.

  Lunch with studio execs from the show had dragged on for three hours, followed by appearances at places where Olivia wanted me to be seen and photographed. Free People. The Gap. Abercrombie. Shops my fans frequented.

  Then the theater. Front-row-center seats to Wicked. It was a great show, but I’d seen it three times before. My agent had elbowed me during the somber second act to w
ake me in order for me to smile and make nice with a couple of noted East Coast filmmakers sitting nearby.

  Necessary. I knew it was all necessary. To appear to be poised and unaffected by everything outside of my career. But I’d put off accepting my lawyer’s calls all day, and it was important to hear what he had to say.

  I stretched out my arm and took Olivia’s cell from her hand.

  “This is Hollie.”

  “Miss Wood.” Andrew Hart’s booming official lawyer voice made me reflexively stand up straighter. “It’s good to finally get a chance to speak with you.”

  A minor dig for the delay, reminding me he was a powerful man, a sought-after attorney. I was lucky to have him on my side.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t take your call sooner. I had a list of things to do, and I knew talking with you would be emotional.” I wanted to be behind closed doors where no one could see and speculate.

  “Yes, I understand that quite well. It isn’t that you don’t have my sympathy, Miss Wood. It’s just that I want to win this lawsuit for you, and when I phone, you should realize I’m not calling to speak about the weather.”

  “I do. Again, I apologize.” My head started to pound. “Is there something I might be able to help you with now, even at this late hour?”

  My own dig. It felt like I’d been awake for twenty-four hours. I was too tired to do the time-zone math, but that might actually be the case.

  “Marc Jensen, the lead attorney on Samuel’s team, contacted my office this morning. His client, your stepfather, is countersuing for defamation of character.”

  “How much?” My stomach felt like it nosedived twenty-one stories out the penthouse window to the pavement.

  “Ten million.” The exact amount I’d received for the deal I’d cut with Valentine. It wasn’t a coincidence, since Samuel didn’t like that I was working for his rival.

  I staggered backward. The matching number was disturbing since I hadn’t made a formal announcement, nor had Valentine’s people. The list of those who knew the details outside of my inner circle was very small.

  “Is that a typical tactic for this kind of case?” I asked, reaching for the back of a nearby chair but finding Max instead. I took the arm he offered and let him guide me to a seat.

  “Typically, the accused does everything in their power to settle out of court. They just want the charges to disappear.”

  As I listened to Hart, Max took a seat opposite me at the round mahogany dining table and Olivia took one beside me. Both wore mirroring expressions of concern as Hart continued.

  “Samuel seemed to be following the expected pattern before. But now he’s done a complete turnaround, and that disturbs me. I wonder if you might have any idea why he’s assumed such an antagonistic stance.”

  “I don’t know, exactly, beyond that he’s usually antagonistic toward anyone who crosses him.” My pale face was reflected in the shiny surface of the glossy table, revealing shadows of the scared young girl who still quaked inside, knowing she had angered him. “I told you all he said when he called me the other night. I guess that was the night before last, actually.”

  I couldn’t focus. My thoughts were spinning.

  Now the penthouse at the Intercontinental Hotel for this weekend seemed like too extravagant of a splurge. And what about the lease I’d just signed on the LA condo?

  Olivia wanted me out of the Beverly Hills Hotel. I wanted out of it too, and she said the condominium was bargain priced for a location so close to the studio where I would be filming the next several months. But maybe I should have looked harder for something farther away and potentially cheaper.

  Hart pulled in a breath. “Well, if there’s nothing more you can think of that I should know . . .”

  “Only that he means what he says.”

  “I’m aware of his reputation. But I think it’s time he experiences firsthand that my reputation is equally formidable.” He guffawed. “Proceed as Ms. Avalon has been directing you. My gut tells me he’s worried, and with good reason. The Besille segment aired today. Did you see it?”

  “No.” My gut didn’t speak to me the way Hart’s did. It was too tense, but my brain was adamant about me not watching it.

  “He didn’t anticipate you taking preemptive action. I believe he expected you to back down. His accusations directly on the heels of your emotional appeal make him seem callous and cruel. He’s made our case for us before the trial, attacking you when you appeared most vulnerable. It was the right call, getting out in front of the story. You outmaneuvered him.”

  My eyes widened.

  “Don’t count on him underestimating you again.”

  “I won’t.” I knew Samuel would be coming at me with no warning whatsoever the next time.

  “Good. If he attempts to contact you again . . .”

  “I’ll refer him immediately to you.”

  “Just so. I will keep you apprised as the situation warrants through your agent. Good evening, Miss Wood. And congratulations on your new film.”

  “Thank you,” I said, but he’d already rung off.

  “Samuel’s on the defensive,” Olivia said.

  I nodded.

  “That’s fantastic.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.” I glanced at Max to see if he had an opinion. He didn’t appear to be listening. His gaze was unfocused, and his brow was furrowed.

  “You have to celebrate your victories.” Olivia tapped my clasped hands.

  As victories went, it was a minor one. “He’s countersuing me now for the exact amount of the Valentine deal.”

  “Of course he is.” She shook her head. “It pisses him off that you brokered a lucrative deal like that without him.”

  A pissed-off Samuel was dangerous. Likely to lash out swiftly where he knew he could hurt me the most. Was that what Max was worried about?

  “I think it’s a good thing we came out on top, considering we were scrambling only a few days ago. You did well today, on the interview and with everything else I threw at you. You’ve earned some rest.”

  “What time is our flight back tomorrow?”

  “Seven in the evening.”

  “And how many obligations do I have before we head to the airport?” I braced internally.

  “None.”

  “None as in zero?” My brows rose.

  Olivia smiled, an occurrence nearly as rare for her as it was with my serious bodyguard. “It’s late.”

  She stood and moved behind me, then leaned down and pressed a kiss into my hair.

  “Take the day off. You have to hit the ground running when we get back to LA. Preproduction begins for you, something the others who already signed on to the project have already completed. All I ask for your free time is that you avoid being photographed. I’d prefer not to have any visual evidence of you, or you and Mr. Cash, doing anything that I’ll have to rework in the next news cycle.”

  “Free time sounds so good.” My weariness receded like the water retreating from the shore. Nearly an entire day in New York with Max. I could think of a hundred things I wanted to do.

  “Do you hear me, Mr. Cash?” She rapped her knuckles on the table in front of him.

  He turned away from his contemplation of the darkened corner of the room and gave her an apologetic look. “What? I’m sorry. I got lost in my own thoughts for a moment.”

  “I’m giving Hollie time off. And since you go wherever she goes, you get the time off by default.”

  His darkened demeanor brightened. “That’s great.”

  “If you go outside the hotel—what am I saying? I know you’ll go out. This is New York. You can’t come all the way here and not at least do a little exploring, no matter how wrapped up you are in each other. But you’ll need to be discreet. There are paparazzi outside. Take the back exit. Wear hats, jackets, sunglasses. It’s cold, so it won’t look unusual if you remain bundled up.”

  “Will do.” I was looking so forward to it.

  �
��I’ll see you to the door.”

  Max unfolded his long frame from the chair and followed her while I stared at his backside. I wasn’t going to miss that opportunity.

  They exchanged a few hushed words, then Olivia was gone. Max turned around and moved toward me, his long strides sure and his expression soft for the first time today.

  My Max was back. I smiled, stood, and met him in the middle of the room.

  Twin grooves deepening in his cheeks, he pulled me into him. “I missed seeing your smile.”

  “I missed you.”

  “I’ve been beside you all day, shug.”

  “Not like this.” I reached up and pressed my hand to his cheek. His skin, as I suspected it would be given the hour, was rough with stubble.

  “No. Not like this. The moments are too few like this.”

  “We have tomorrow,” I reminded him, warmth filling my weary frame as he angled his head to press his face deeper into my hand.

  “Until three.”

  “Only three?” I frowned, trying not to pout.

  “A car’s coming to pick us up. We need to head to the airport before afternoon traffic starts.”

  I nodded. That made sense.

  “You did better than well today, Hollie.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about work.” I brought my other hand up and swept both my thumbs across his high cheekbones. “Just the two of us. It feels like Christmas is already here.”

  His gaze darkening, he reached up and removed my hands from his cheeks, then brought them to his lips instead. The flutters began before he even pressed his mouth to my skin.

  “Max . . .” I exhaled, feeling so much. My spine tingled from the touch of his lips and the intensity of his focused regard.

  “Yes. I’m right here.” Grooves appeared.