by Eden Summers
One kiss had destroyed her.
And one was all she could ever allow herself to have.
Chapter One
Months later
Orlando, Florida
Ryan flipped his guitar pick back and forth between his fingers as he followed the bee-line down the backstage hall toward the Reckless dressing room. He was dripping with sweat, from his face to his crack. Every limb was wet and thrumming with adrenaline, just the way he liked it.
Nothing compared to the high of a live crowd, especially when he’d been living his life in the gutter lately. The fans kept him going. They pushed him to forget about the single lifestyle he wasn’t accustomed to and the estranged wife who was still trying to bleed more money out of him with the divorce settlement.
Julie was destroying him, one instigated lawyer interaction at a time.
“Great show, guys.” Leah’s voice came from the dressing room door and nudged at places in his chest that shouldn’t be accessible.
Her sapphire eyes were bright, her flawless lipstick clinging to sultry lips while she grinned at their approach. He wasn’t sure how she did it. The days were long, her tasks arduous, but she never appeared anything less than unstoppable. Even now, after a twelve-hour day, her short-sleeved dress was wrinkle-free and clinging perfectly to every inch of her body, all the way to her calves.
He’d rarely seen her in a state of anything less than excellence. It was how she worked, how she liked to be perceived. Strong. Sure. Capable. That was why his admiration for her had never wavered, even though she still found it hard to look him in the eye.
Not even his drunken kiss had unsettled her. Yes, initially she’d flipped out and skipped town, but her return had been uneventful. The only thing that changed was the cold shoulder she always had pointed in his direction.
“What are you doing here?” Mason asked from the front of the group. “You’re usually hiding in your hotel suite by now, sleeping like a baby.”
“I am not.” She scowled. “I just refused to meet up with you after a concert because your ego resembles a needy five-year-old.”
“I don’t have a needy ego. I merely like to hear the details from a viewer’s perspective. It’s performance appraisal.” Mason stopped at the door, holding the rest of the band from entering the dressing room. “I did look good on stage, though, didn’t I?”
Leah rolled her eyes. “Thanks for proving my point.”
Ryan withheld a smile. He missed her playfulness. That sarcastic edge and mischievous spark. One day soon he’d get it back. He just had to keep telling himself—right time, right place. The right time wasn’t the middle of a tour when they were tired and lacking patience from all the sterile hotel rooms and cramped nights on the sleeper bus. And the right place wasn’t a packed dressing room where there’d be an audience to his groveling.
But soon. He’d get them back to where they once were. Soon.
“Hurry up and get inside.” She jerked her head toward the room. “We’ve got an impromptu meeting to get through before you can call it a night.”
“With?” Sean shoved Mason inside and followed after.
Leah’s expression tightened. “The label.”
Someone from Grander was here? On tour? In the middle of the night?
Ryan stepped past her and into the dressing room, Mitch and Blake at his back. The sight of Scott on the sofa at the side of the room made his muscles tense. The guy sat like he was made of gold and sprinkled in silver. His suit was immaculate, his arms outstretched along the head rest, his leg crossed over the other knee.
“Where’s my warm welcome?”
“Welcome, Scott.” Leah pulled the door closed behind her. “Now can you tell me what was so important that you had to fly across the country instead of calling?”
Ryan spared her a quick glance to find her standing tall with a fake curve to her lips. She was nervous, or angry. He could never tell the difference with that expression.
“Things have been quiet on the publicity front lately.” Scott gave them a sinister smile. “I thought I’d drop by and have a quick catch up to determine the problem.”
“Problem?” Mason shook his head. “There’s no problem. We’ve settled down and learned not to cause trouble.”
“I think your significant others may have been responsible,” Leah murmured.
“True.” Mason inclined his head. “We’re not looking for drama. We’re done with that.”
“See, that’s a problem.” Scott leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “No drama equals no free publicity, which then means Grander has to hand out more money to promote you guys. Money that currently isn’t in the budget.”
The room fell quiet under the threatening tone. Ryan looked to Sean for guidance, who glanced to Blake, the domino effect hitting each band member until they were all staring at Leah, silently asking for permission to put this asshole in his place.
“I would’ve thought our ticket sales gave us the luxury of more paid publicity.” Her words were tight, clipped, yet her enticing lips were still curved in that friendly charade. “The tour’s almost sold out.”
Damn, he admired her. She always knew how to act—what to say or what to do—to make people pay attention and take her seriously.
For the duration of his marriage, it had bothered him to contemplate her qualities. He’d already been committed to Julie when they met, and thinking of another woman didn’t feel right, no matter how platonic. Now things were different. So devastatingly different his chest reacted whenever they were in the same room. His wife was gone, or soon would be, and he no longer harbored guilt for admiring Leah the way he’d wanted to for years. She deserved his appreciation. Only problem was, she’d made it clear she didn’t want it.
“Yes, you’re right,” Scott agreed. “Tickets are almost sold out. But Grander has decided those sales aren’t as high as they could be.”
“Greedy much?” Blake drawled. “The sales are through the roof.”
“And the label wants more.”
“How much more?” Ryan asked.
They hadn’t pulled the tours dates out of their ass. A lot of Leah’s blood, sweat, and cursing had gone into determining a schedule that would fit in with each band member, along with the venues. The most important requirement had been working around Blake and Gabi. The bass guitarist demanded the tour be wrapped up before the birth of his first child, with the rest of the band happy to oblige because they all wanted to be there, too. The two of them had already been through enough with the loss of their first pregnancy. More tour dates wouldn’t keep them apart; it would only break Blake from the band.
“We want more publicity. More hype. More sales. We want you to reach your potential.”
“Let’s cut the crap.” Leah strode forward. “Seeing as though you were unsuccessful in convincing the guys to re-sign, you’re trying to bleed them dry before their contractual obligations are over.”
“We made Reckless into what it is today. We deserve a substantial return on our investment.”
Mason’s eyes widened in fury. The lead singer had a low threshold for label bullshit after what his fiancé, Sidney, had been through. She’d been dumped and discarded from her contract after a public scandal involving a highly viewed sex tape. Ryan had no doubt the situation was a main contributor for Reckless choosing to go indie for the next album.
“A substantial return—” Mason spat.
Leah held up a hand, cutting him off. “What are you suggesting?”
“We’ve already thrown around a few ideas.” Scott rested into the sofa, smug. “We want you to create a talking point. Even a scandal. We need you to milk the free publicity train as much as possible.”
Ryan chanced a cautionary glance at his best friends. Free publicity was rarely a good thing. Not emotionally, anyway. Free publicity meant a reporter could pick and choose what information they gave to the public. It meant spinning and twisting facts. It meant opening your soul to the
devil and hoping they didn’t expose something you’d prefer to keep quiet, like a drug scandal or a cheating claim. Free publicity was fucked, and they all knew it.
“I was thinking a feel-good interview with Gabi and Blake about the pregnancy,” Scott continued. “We all want to know what’s going on with the little bub.”
Blake glared. “Are you fucking kidding me? Gabi has been—”
Leah raised her hand again, the simple command enough to cut Blake off with a grunt. “Gabi is off limits.”
All of them would be united in her declaration. There was no disputing Blake’s wife had already been through enough turmoil lately, along with moving her life from Australia to the US. The further Gabi remained from the spotlight, the better.
“That’s non-negotiable,” Leah continued. “So what’s your next suggestion?”
Scott turned his focus to the lead singer. “How about leaking a date for Mason’s wedding?”
“No way.” Mason slumped into the sofa across the back wall. “I put a ring on it. That’s all Beyoncé said I had to do.”
Scott released a bark of laughter. Nobody else encouraged the humor. “Then maybe a staged proposal from our most recently attached band member.”
“Pass.” Sean’s scowl spoke louder than words. He hadn’t been with his choreographer girlfriend, Melody, for long. They were still in the smitten, can’t-breathe-without-speaking-to-you stage. There was no way the drummer would let her take a bullet. “Hard pass.”
“What about you, Mitch? Do you have any news that could stir some free publicity?” Scott didn’t pause. “We need something.”
“I’ve got nothing for ya,” Mitch grated through clenched teeth. His wife, Alana, was the official band photographer and the longest standing woman on the tour apart from Leah. Even though more shows would affect their relationship the least, Alana would probably be the worst equipped to handle public scrutiny due to her secluded upbringing.
“I guess that leaves it up to you, Ryan. Which is perfect, really, seeing as though you’re now the only single member of the group. Our publicity team already had an idea in place, but with the pending divorce I thought your friends would be more willing to take the limelight.”
The weight of the room fell on Ryan’s shoulders. Everyone stared at him with vastly differing looks—one with cunning, others in horror or rage. Leah merely took him in with the unaffected stare she’d perfected. Almost perfected. He was sure he glimpsed the slightest hint of panic in her blue eyes. “I’ve never taken the fall before. It’s only natural I do it now.”
He spent years honing his reputation. He was the gentleman, the one who vowed to honor his marriage, and more importantly, his wife. And that’s the way he’d wanted the world to see him. He refused to be another celebrity cliché surrounded by sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. He’d only ever indulged heavily in one, and it definitely wasn’t the sex or the drugs. In fact, he’d never tried an illegal substance more than once, and he’d been the only one enthusiastic about polishing the family jewels for a damn long time.
“What’s this idea you’re talking about?”
“Well, there are a few options.” Scott’s lips curved in a gradually building smile. It was sinister. Repulsive. “We can focus on your divorce. The legal battle has already dragged on for months, so it’s not like it’s a secret that you and Julie can’t come to terms with the settlement…”
“No.” Not an option. He wasn’t going to do anything to poke his ex’s already accomplished bitchiness.
“Or we can kill two birds with one stone and hook your newly single ass up with the lead singer of your opening band. Slicker isn’t building the media presence we’d hoped for, so placing the two of you together with a few dates in public places, maybe a scandal here and there, will boost both your popularity and theirs.”
“You want us to waste our time promoting another band?” Mason placed his hands on the top of his head, his knuckles white, his waning restraint evident. “This is ridiculous.”
Ridiculous? Yes. But Ryan was still stuck on the unfamiliar concept of dating. He hadn’t been through those early relationship stages since he was a teen. “What happens if I refuse?”
“Then we’ll recoup our losses with more tour dates.”
“Fuck off,” Blake spat. “We planned those dates for a reason. I’m not going to miss the birth of my child if the tour gets extended.”
“We could fill the spaces in the schedule first.” Scott pushed from the sofa and stood. “You’ve got vacant two-day blocks in there that can house more concerts.”
“Those two-day blocks were arranged to allow Blake to get back to see his wife. Not to mention we’re legally obligated to give the crew and bus drivers a break.” Leah was the voice of reason. The classy, professional calm that kept them from tearing this guy apart. “They also give Mason and Sean the opportunity to catch up with their partners.”
“We can get more crew members.” Scott waved away the claim with a lazy hand. “And fly the wives in for a few nights.”
“Gabi can’t fucking fly, asshole.” Blake tensed his fists. “We won’t place any risks on this pregnancy.”
“And I won’t place any regard on the love life of my artists. I’m not here to facilitate your libido. If the demand is there, we’ll be scheduling more shows wherever the hell we want them.”
Blake inched forward, closing in on trouble. “You can’t do that.”
But they all knew he could. When they’d first signed as an unknown band, the label had put them through hell more times than Ryan could remember. Spite from their camp wasn’t new. It was merely a distant memory since they’d begun making millions.
Scott raised a brow. “You might want to re-read your contract.”
A chorus of profanity erupted. There were threats of violence, clenched fists, friends holding friends back from committing murder.
“Calm down.” Leah raised her voice. “Just calm down.”
Ryan swallowed over the building anger while the vicious snarls took moments to die, leaving the room saturated in palpable fury. Scott remained smug, the power firmly in his grasp because he still had a contract hanging over their heads until the tour was complete.
“More concerts are impossible.” Leah raised her chin and crossed her arms over her distracting chest. “You need to give us more options.”
“You should’ve thought about that before declining our last offer.”
“Fuck you.” Blake’s curse reverberated off the walls like an avalanche. “This is bullshit.”
“It’s OK.” Leah placed a hand on his arm, guiding the bass guitarist back from the brink with a mere flash of her lashes. “Go to the hotel and let me deal with this.”
“No. I need to know what’s happening. I need to know what I’m going to have to explain to my wife.”
Leah leaned in and whispered in Blake’s ear. The guy winced at her words and the fight left his shoulders. There were brief seconds where the two of them were side by side, the entire room watching, waiting for the final response that came in a succinct nod, stormed footsteps across the room, and finally a slam of the door in Blake’s wake.
Ryan had been there before. He’d been the one in his friend’s shoes, the one prepared to rip his hair out for the sake of the woman he loved. And just like now, Leah had always pulled him back from insanity and made everything peachy again. She was Wonder Woman, only better, and a hell of a lot sexier, too.
“This is pretty fucking rough,” Mitch muttered.
Ryan nodded at the understatement. Over the years, the industry had fallen to shit at their feet, while Reckless continued to grow and make Grander millions. They’d done their part. They’d paid their dues. They shouldn’t be punished for wanting a better contract next time around—one that Grander refused to give.
“I’ll do it.” He glared at Scott and hoped the guy had a clear picture of his disgust. He hadn’t wanted to open his mouth and take the fall, but their choices w
ere vanishing like booze at an after party. He was the only single member of the band. His friends all had loved ones waiting at home, and he was well aware of how tour headlines could mess with a relationship. Hell, they’d probably mess the shit out of his divorce, but what was the alternative? “I’ll date this woman and help lift her profile, but you need to back off on the tour.”
“Grander will want more than a few dates. We want results.”
Ryan chanced another look at his friends. Mason was minutes away from needing police intervention. Mitch was pale with worry, while Sean was gazing into space, his nostrils flaring. Then there was Leah. Beautiful, protective Leah. She was focused on him, her emotions hiding under the full-time professional façade.
“And you’ll get them.” He turned back to Scott. “I can put her on the paparazzi radar, and the rest of the guys can help build hype on social media. It will skyrocket their visibility. You can’t put a price on that sort of early publicity to a band’s career.”
“I agree.” The smirk was back on Scott’s face. “But if you’re unsuccessful, we’ll have the extra tour dates on standby.”
“Nope.” Ryan stood tall, adamant, determined and oh-so-close to telling this guy what he really thought. “I won’t do it with that hanging over my head. If I’m risking everything and I have to fake-date someone during the middle of a divorce, I want assurances.”
“Then I guess we’re at a standstill.” Scott shrugged. “Grander won’t be happy with a vague pledge that you’ll build hype.”
“Make them happy with it.” Mason dropped his hands to his sides. “You need to think long-term instead of instant gratification. Of course we can fill more tour dates. Nobody will dispute that. But once we’re gone, we ain’t comin’ back. Take this opportunity for us to create your next big name, otherwise it could be years before you get another chart topper on your list.”
“Could you commit to making Slicker a chart topper?” Scott’s focus switched from Mason to hit Ryan head on.
That was a huge ask. God-damn monumental. The market wasn’t what it used to be. The influx of indie artists and the inexpensive marketing of social media meant anyone and everyone was an up and coming star. Even with their substantial fan base, they couldn’t click their fingers and create a new worldwide sensation.