Alana Shelton sucked in a deep breath and relaxed into her seat. An unfamiliar world drifted by the window as her plane taxied into the Richmond, Virginia airport.

This was it—life.

Finally, she was free, alone, and able to grasp independence with both hands, even though those betraying body parts trembled in her lap. Her heart pounded with the erratic beat of excitement, and her palms were sticky with sweat. She’d waited too long for today. Too damn long dreaming of what it would be like to breathe without restriction.

“You didn’t enjoy the flight?”

She peered over her shoulder and smiled at the elderly man seated beside her. “You know what, I actually think I did.”

Soaring above the clouds was invigorating. Everyone around her seemed to take the view for granted. They weren’t in awe of tiny houses below or the unending curve of barely visible roads.

The man grinned at her, and the sight was so unfamiliar her chest tippy-tapped with the slightest case of arrhythmia. She shouldn’t be talking to him, shouldn’t be conversing like they were friends, but she’d become warmed by his conversation. He’d sprinkled light chatter into her first flight and helped her relax into unfamiliar surroundings. Which was profound, seeing as she’d been forbidden to speak to members of the opposite sex since she was born.

If her mother were here, chastisements would be flying from her lips. Don’t speak to him. Don’t ever trust a man. Actually, if her mother were here, the flight attendants would’ve had to prepare sedatives long ago. The woman who raised Alana in the quiet seclusion of a Monument, Colorado retreat didn’t deal well with men. Alana was sure the local police station had a notice on their billboard that stated as much.

If you have a dick, avoid this woman.

It wasn’t easy being the daughter of a man-hater. It wasn’t fun being deprived of any sort of masculine guidance either. But there was no other choice. Not until now, when Alana was confident enough to make her own decisions and step into the world by herself.

“Do you need help with your luggage?” he asked.

“No, thank you.” The plane pulled to a stop, ending the tiny glimpses of scenery that had flickered past like snapshots. “I have a friend waiting for me.”

Her best friend, Kate, was the only woman who had the slightest understanding of Alana’s restricted upbringing.

She unclasped her belt and wrung her hands together, fighting away the jitters. She was determined to spend her mini vacation without the dark taint of her mother’s outlook. The slate was wiped clean. At least as much as her nervousness would allow.

She’d never wanted to shun men. She was dying to learn the intricacies of the opposite sex for herself. The good and the bad. The scary and the exhilarating. No matter how determined her mother was to verbally bash anyone without a set of ovaries, Alana had always held an open mind. Secretly, anyway.

It was the thrill of the unknown. The taboo of breaking the rules.

Minutes ticked by before the cabin door opened and passengers disembarked. It was surreal. Pandora’s Box was opening. Finally, she had the opportunity to let her hair down without someone hovering over her shoulder. She’d hoped for this day since she was a little girl, and now that it was here she wasn’t sure if she should scream, vomit, or rely on alcohol to kill the overwhelming mix of emotions.

“Thank you…” Her words trailed as the man beside her stood.

His brows pulled together. “For what?”

Good question. What was she thanking him for? The conversation? The enlightenment? All he’d done was be kind, and yet the sparse communication they shared had been monumental to her. All it took were a few words. A smile here and there. Then, bam, this man had cemented her opinion that the opposite sex wasn’t to be feared.

At least not all of them.

She wasn’t naïve. God knew how many times she’d been called into the living room to watch another news broadcast on violence against women. And her mother’s experiences were the stuff of nightmares. She was merely willing to keep an open mind.

“For being you.” She swallowed over the gratitude drying her throat and grabbed her bag from under the seat in front of her.

He chuckled. “I hope you have fun in Richmond, Alana.”

Then he was gone, walking away from her like he hadn’t just changed her life.

She slumped back into her chair and began her breathing ritual. Deep in, slow out. Unwelcomed emotions were overwhelming her, and guilt sat at the top of the list. Her mother was still back in Monument, probably popping Valium over the thought of her only child being alone in this big, scary world.

You can do this.

She shoved to her feet and followed the line of people banked down the aisle, vowing to enjoy every waking moment, no matter how drained she was from the adrenaline rush. Nothing could wipe the grin from her face as she read the signs through the airport leading her toward the baggage claim.

People were everywhere. Men hauled suitcases, children ran from parents, women strutted in business suits or sexy clothing that was way out of Alana’s league. There were shops too, with shiny lights and bright smiles from retail assistants. It was like Disneyland. To her, at least.

“Finally!” A familiar female voice came from behind her. “Three cheers for the escaped inmate.”

Alana froze. Strangers stared, security stood taller, and the prickle of anxiety over a crowd of people watching her tickled the back of her neck. High and low. High and low. Her emotions were a whirlwind, and she was determined to ride the experience no matter where it led.

She ignored the heat burning her cheeks and swung around to face Kate. “Trust you to make me feel uncomfortable as soon as my plane landed.”

Kate laughed and yanked Alana in for a hug that squeezed the air from her lungs.

“You need to celebrate your liberation.” Kate pulled back to scrutinize Alana’s face. “Prison life was tough for you.”

Prison life? Alana scoffed. “This vacation is far from liberation. You know I can come and go as I please.”

“Yet you never have.”

True. It wasn’t easy to leave a mother who skirted the boundary of mental illness. There would be repercussions to this trip away. The leash around her neck would be notched tighter once she returned. But she would endure it all for the love of the woman who raised her.

“No men, no parties, no excitement,” Kate continued. “It’s actually more like hell than prison.”

“It’s better than what a lot of people have.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Kate beamed at her as they walked to the conveyor belt displaying suitcases from the flight. Kate’s smile was too big, too contagious, as if she truly had witnessed the liberation of a friend who’d been a prisoner of war.

Alana’s upbringing wasn’t bad. Not completely… OK, it was entirely dictatorial and full of scaremongering, but no biggie. She could handle whatever life threw at her now. Although inexperienced in almost every facet of life, it hadn’t stopped her from becoming strong and open-minded.

She was able to explore her love of photography and dedicate all her time to shaping it into a promising career. Her mother had always supported and nurtured her. She wanted her daughter to succeed, just as long as it was done without a male in sight.

“Here, hold this.” She shoved her handbag into Kate’s arms. Her suitcase was circling, about to fly past as she grabbed the handle and yanked it to the ground. She’d packed her entire wardrobe, which wasn’t a whole lot. There were no pretty dresses, no cleavage showing tops or butt hugging jeans. All she owned was similar to the black slacks and loose T-shirt she currently wore.

“Can we schedule a trip to a shopping mall?” She glanced at her clothes and compared them to the tight skirt and equally tight tank Kate had on. There wasn’t a subtle bone in Kate’s body.

“I’m all over it. We’ll upgrade you from the Amish look in no time.”

“Your honesty is cathartic,” she mumbled.

Kate was the ultimate bad influence. One-hundred percent sexy confidence wrapped in a blonde bombshell package.

“I call it like I see it, and those clothes definitely won’t do for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

Kate grinned. “All in good time, my precious.”

They made their way toward the exit, past the automatic doors, and out into the foreign Richmond air. Everything was unfamiliar—the people, the scenery, the exhilaration. She was stepping into the unknown, and the sensation was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

Every man who walked by was treated to her appraisal. Not only the good-looking ones, but the gruff, unkempt ones too. She tried to read them, tried to determine if she could pick the good from the bad. One man smiled, and the wave of tingles that washed from her belly to her throat made her laugh in response.

“This is mine.” Kate pointed to a red compact car and pulled keys from her pocket.

The trunk popped open, the suitcase was slid inside, and moments later Alana was peering through a windshield as they approached a city she had never seen before.

“Are you ready to party?”

Her heart fluttered like butterflies’ wings. “So ready I’m likely to lose my breakfast.”

She gripped her seatbelt tight, needing the slight sense of grounding. She didn’t even know what defined partying. She was clueless. All she had to go by were the long-distance phone calls from Kate, who had a knack of explaining the fabulousness of her life in vivid detail. Anything from the buzz of alcohol, the euphoria of sex, and even the heartbreak of lost love had been experienced vicariously through her best friend for as long as Alana could remember. “What did you have in mind?”

Kate leaned over and opened the glove compartment. “Only this.” She dropped an envelope in Alana’s lap and turned her attention back to the road.

“What is it?”

“Tickets to the start of your life.”

Alana frowned. “More specifically?”

“A chance to have your ovaries massaged by the vocal perfection of a sex god.”

“Kate.” She opened the envelope and pulled out two tickets. The writing on the paper was clear. The event started tonight at 9 o’clock and in a hotel she wasn’t familiar with. “Give me the details.”

“OK, OK. I won two passes to the private performance held by Reckless Beat tonight. Here. In Richmond. The place where it all began.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Kate scoffed. “A good thing? A good thing! Girl, I would’ve sold your kidneys on the black market to get these tickets. Reckless Beat are the reason I’m always in need of AA batteries.”

“TMI, much?” Alana clutched the tickets and tried not to let nervousness take hold. A performance. A real, live performance. By men who inspire the use of sex toys, no less. “I know who they are, I’m just not sure I’m ready for all that…interaction.”

Kate waggled her brows. “You totally are. They’re the type of men your mother warned you about, and you’re not going to miss a minute of their brilliance.”

Perfect. “That’s exactly what I need.” Sarcasm aside, this was probably the best start Alana could wish for. As daunting as the real world was, she wanted to grasp it with both hands. Not only that, she wanted to shake it, squish it, mold, and cherish it.

There was no more hiding behind the walls her mother had built around her.

Kate reached across the car and squeezed Alana’s wrist. “I know you’re panicking, but trust me, you’re going to have a great time this weekend.”

Panicking? Yes. Likely to vomit in Kate’s lovely little car? Yes, that too. “Is this a sit-down performance?” One where she had her own personal space to cling to.

“Sweetie, you’re going to be so tightly compacted against strangers that you’ll lose your virginity all over again.”

“Great.” Her voice was breathy, betraying her concern. “It sounds as fun as the first time.”

“Trust me.” Kate squeezed her wrist again. “You’ll have a night to remember.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She exhaled all the air from her lungs and focused on the world outside. There was no chickening out now. This was exactly what she’d wanted. Exactly what she prayed for. “As long as any battery action you require is kept on the down low and I don’t have to hear it.”

Kate grinned. “Hopefully, I won’t need toys tonight. I’m planning on enjoying the real thing.”

Oh, Christ. “Well, I guess there’s no time to waste.” She swallowed to relieve the dryness in her throat. “We need to go shopping. Stat.”

* * *

Mitchell Davies finished tuning the last guitar in the lineup for tonight’s show and handed it back to the sound technician.

“Thanks, Tim.”

The man jerked his head in acknowledgement. “Are you all set this time?”

“Yeah.” Hell, yeah. He couldn’t wait for the rush of adrenaline and the thunderous spike of his pulse. Tonight was going to be epic. “I’m good to go.”

“You sure? I don’t want your neurosis calling me back down here again.”

“You say ‘again’ like I’ve been nagging you incessantly.” What was up with that? There was a pre-performance ritual that couldn’t be messed with. “And I’m not neurotic.”

Blake, the Reckless Beat bass guitarist, snorted from a few feet away.

“Oh, come on. It was one final check,” Mitch muttered.

Tim raised a brow. “One after another, after another.”

Fine. They had already rehearsed last night and collectively nailed the sound for their new album. But for the sake of sanity, Mitch had to triple check his babies to make sure nobody had messed with their strings overnight. He was paranoid when it came to live shows, and this one seemed more important than the concerts in front of thousands of fans.

For the first time in Reckless Beat history, they were giving a live performance of their latest album in front of an intimate crowd of their most loyal fans. They weren’t even in a stadium. The stage he currently stood on was at the far end of a hotel ballroom in the heart of Richmond, Virginia. He’d actually be able to see the faces of the women who threw their panties on stage. Not that he approved of them slingshotting underwear his way. He’d much prefer to trail them down the legs of a beautiful woman once they were backstage or in his hotel suite.

You wouldn’t hear him protesting, though. Foreplay was foreplay, and he wouldn’t disrespect a woman who was prepared to start the proceedings when she wasn’t even sure if she was invited to the festivities. It took balls to throw dirty underwear at anyone, let alone a celebrity who could call you out in front of thousands of people.

“What is everyone else doing?” He glanced at Blake and received a shrug in response.

“Ryan was in before sunrise,” Tim answered. “Said he couldn’t sleep.”

“More like his wife would’ve kicked him out of bed,” Blake offered.

Mitch shot him a glare. The last thing Ryan needed was the wrong people overhearing about shit that shouldn’t be discussed. Nobody understood what was going on in that messed up marriage, not even husband and wife.

And still, no matter how turbulent Ryan’s marriage became, it still seemed more appealing than the lucky dip that came with being single. Some nights Mitch ended up with a five-star woman, the next he was wondering if his bed partner had been reincarnated from a praying mantis. He’d been screamed at, tied up, bitten—in unpleasurable places—and cursed at more times than he cared to recall.

“I’m sure they’re fine.” He turned to the back of the stage and sank into the euphoria of the pre-show buzz. Sean’s drums were already set up, crosses were marked on the floor where each band member needed to stand, and the usual mass of leads were taped to the ground to lessen the chance of him landing on his face mid-performance.

Within hours, people would be crammed up against the metal railing standing in front of the small makeshift stage. Screams would vibrate the room, his chest too, and hopefully his in-ear monitors would save him from an early onset of hearing loss. Men would take advantage of the excitement and work their charms on already aroused groupies. And the weakest of the women would faint.

All this in a mere few hours.

If that wasn’t god-like, he didn’t know what was.

“Can we leave now?” Blake came up beside him. “I need to get out of here before the adrenaline kicks in.”

“Yeah.” Mitch turned back to the room and pictured the empty space filled with moshing bodies. “We should go chill out in the suite or lay down and catch some Zs or something.”

Sleep would be perfect if it wasn’t entirely unachievable due to excitement. The pressure of satisfying hundreds of people had a way of stealing any possibility of slumber. At least without the help of drugs or alcohol.

“Or something? Are you hitting on me, bro?” Blake waggled his brows.

“Do I look like I want your tiny dick up my ass?” He ignored his best friend’s laughter and gave a farewell salute to Tim. “See you later.”

“Hopefully, not before it’s necessary.”

“Hopefully,” Mitch grated. How could they put a limit on preparation? Especially when it came to music. He hadn’t become one of the most envied lead guitarists in the industry through luck. No, sir. The so-called neurotic checking was a part of his awesomeness.

He jumped off the stage and scaled the security railing to head for the entrance to the ballroom. “You coming?” he called to Blake.

“Yep.”

They strode in silence to the far end of the room and paused at the door. He wished he had the luck of his other band members who were safely secured in the homes of loved ones. Every time they travelled to the place where the band began, Ryan, Mason, and Sean would bunk with family, while he had to deal with the sarcastic charm of Blake, his brother from another mother, for uninterrupted hours.

His best friend was an asshole. The best asshole on the face of the planet. But an asshole nonetheless. The tattooed, stereotypical bad boy was an A-grade panty dropper, which meant a ravenous group of sex-hungry women were always close by. Unlike Mitch, who could blend into the masses with a baseball cap and dark glasses, there was no way to hide the ink marking Blake’s skin. When they were together, it meant a whole heap of television re-runs or unnecessary guitar practice while locked away in the hotel suite.

He pushed the ballroom door open a cautious inch and straightened with relief at the sight of one of their security team standing a foot away.

“We all clear?”

Steve jerked his head. “The bitches are banked up outside for now.”

“Bitches?” Blake pushed the door wide and frowned at the newest member of their security. “You wouldn’t want Leah to hear you talking like that. She’ll kick your ass to next Tuesday.”

True story. Leah, their band manager, would bust the balls of anyone who disrespected Reckless Beat fans. She was such a pretty little thing, yet behind the smiles and professionalism stood a vulture—claws, sharp beak, crazy eyes and all. The woman even had the ability to squash Mason’s ego if she wanted, and that wasn’t an easy feat.

“If it quacks like a duck, waddles like a duck, and shits like a duck, it’s a fuckin’ duck.” Steve crossed his arms over his puffed out chest. “I’m just callin’ ’em like I see ’em.”

“Nice,” Blake grated. “Where did we find this guy, again?”

Screams burst to life from outside the hotel doors. A cacophony of sound that made them all wince.

“Shit.” Women were everywhere, body to body, banked behind a wall of security outside. There were signs. Pictures. Posters. Some just waved their hands wildly in an effort to attract attention.

“It looks like all my fans have arrived. I wonder where yours are.” He nudged Blake in the ribs and quickly dodged the tattooed arm that came sailing toward him. All it did was make the women scream louder.

“You wouldn’t know what a fan was, unless one bit you in the ass.” Blake snickered. “Oh, that’s right, the last one did, didn’t she?”

That woman had been crazy. The type to fall into the trying-too-hard-to-impress-a-rocker category. “Apparently, it’s foreplay,” he mumbled.

“Apparently, it’s fucking psychotic,” Blake countered.

The collective hype over the two of them was nowhere near the unruly insanity of what it would resemble if Mason were to walk into the lobby. There wasn’t a pair of ovaries that could withstand the charm of the Reckless Beat frontman. Men, too, as Mason learned the hard way.

“Tell me again why we’re doing an intimate performance.” Blake stared through the floor to ceiling windows, his brow etched in concern. The women were rocking the crowd barrier, shaking it with Hulk strength. “One that puts us in close proximity to starved women.”

“Publicity, my friend.” Mitch clapped his friend on the shoulder and started for the elevator. Publicity was the excuse for every crazy-ass, life threatening thing they’d ever done. And tonight would be no different.