Chapter 11

Chelsea saw it tick, and she waited for the explosion. It was 3:24 a.m., and the phones were ringing off the hook. There was a host of reporters camping out at the front of the hotel wanting a statement. She saw it tick, the vein on Reid’s forehead, and she mentally prepared herself for the detonation.

He was standing by the window in the suite with a hand on his brow, gingerly massaging the time bomb. She also took note that when he was angry, he got an orange glow. Usually, his complexion was a nice golden tan, and when he was angry, the blood rushed to the surface creating a weird hue.

He hadn’t said anything within the last 19 minutes, and Chelsea was worried that he would bust a nerve. He had knocked her door at exactly 2:52 a.m. As if on cue, he knocked at the exact moment she flung away the covers to go pee. The knock had startled her nonetheless and made her heart jump into her mouth.

There was a scratching sound at the door, and Reid turned, his face set and his eyes shooting steel bullets. Chelsea knew he was waiting until Colt came through the door. He looked at his watch as the door finally pushed, and someone staggered in.

“Go fuck yourself!” Colt shouted to whoever was in the hall before slamming the door shut.

He stopped, apparently shocked to see them both. He peered at her first before settling his eyes on his manager.

“What’s going on,” he said, his voice slurred.

Reid walked over and stood facing Colt. “Where have you been?” he asked, quite calmly.

This shocked her. She had been expecting something a little bit more explosive. Colt did not immediately answer. A few minutes passed, which actually seemed like hours, in which Reid glared at a confused Colt.

Colt then looked over Reid’s shoulder at her and asked, “What the fuck’s going on? Why are there so many reporters out front?”

“Don’t answer that,” Reid turned his head with the instruction. His voice slightly betrayed his frustration. “You always do this Colt. The big bad rock star, nothing matters to you!”

Colt pushed passed Reid, frustration showing on his face. “I’m tired, and we got a road trip in a few hours.”

As he passed, the manager grabbed his arm. “You’re going to listen to me this time, Colt.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. What is it that I’m supposed to have done?”

Reid stomped to the desk and picked up his tablet. He walked back to the rock star, shoving the device in his hand. Colt stared at it for a few seconds and then cursed under his breath. Chelsea saw his vein start to tick much as Reid’s was. His eyes darted to his manager and then over to her. She lowered her eyes to avoid his penetrating gaze.

“Shit!” he cursed. “That twit!”

“Your memory seemed to have returned,” Reid’s snarky tone did not get past Chelsea.

“This reporter has it in for me, can’t you see that?” Colt shoved the tablet back into Reid’s hand. “When I get my hands on him.”

“Are you saying the photo is a fake?” Reid asked, cocking his brow.

“Some kid took the photo at the party, but the article is thrashing me. The guy has a vendetta,” he replied.

“You always do this,” Reid bellowed and walked to the window. “You never take responsibility. Do you know what even happened today and how this will affect your career tomorrow?”

“Hey, I’m clean man. I didn’t even see when the kid took the photo until it was too late,” Colt replied. “I’m tired. I need some sleep. Can we talk later?”

He didn’t wait for Reid to answer; he walked to his bedroom, and when he was inside, he slammed the door. Chelsea was sure he was angry, but why? He was the one in the photo. The blog article stated that Colt was at a party with drugs and alcohol. It implied the rock star was also on drugs and hung out with junkies. The photo showed a woman draping all over him snorting white powder from a mirror.

She felt disappointed. She knew he was a philanderer, but she never took him for a druggie. Now, she wasn’t sure. She watched the bedroom door and wished she could go over there and talk to him. But perhaps she was the last person he’d talk to, let alone be honest with her.

“You can go back to your room, Chelsea,” Reid said. “Get some shut eye.”

“I’m not sleepy. What are we going to do? Can’t you get this removed?” she asked.

Reid eyed her with a surprised expression. “The photo is real. There’s nothing much I can do,” he said.

“But the article implied that Colt is on drugs and that’s defaming, isn’t it?”

He fingered his chin a moment before picking his phone from his jacket pocket. He scrolled through and then dialed a number. While he was doing his thing, she went to get a copy of the NY Early Edition in the hotel lobby. She wanted to see if Colt was in it. She picked the paper from the newsstand and on the front was her rock star boss. “Rocking Drugs and Sluts” was the headline.

She shook her head at the photo. One of the girls in the photo was one of the two from the last time his photo appeared in the paper. She looked at the by-line of the journalist. This one was different. In addition, she could not blame Ben for this one. Colt had to take responsibility.

When she returned to the suite, Reid was in an animated conversation on the phone. “What do you mean I need a court order to take it down?” He paused a minute then added, “Can’t I just file an injunction?” There was another pause. “Alright, I’ll see if Judge Moody is available.”

As soon as he hung up, he looked in her direction, and then his eyes caught the paper in her hand. He did not waste time. Within seconds, he was grabbing it from her clutches, scanning the front page with his scary eyes.

“Shucks,” he said. “Chelsea, call the papers and see what you can do to have them retract this bullshit.”

“What should I tell them?”

“Anything. Be convincing, threatening, anything to get them to retract this. I have to see a judge,” he said.

He left the suite while she stared at the paper. Colt was in his room, and she was in the living room. Suddenly, she felt as if the walls between them were fading. Her heart began to do somersaults as she wondered what he was doing. Did he take a shower? Was he toweling his thick brown hair? Was he naked? Her cheeks burned on the last thought, which shocked her to the point that she gasped. To distract herself, she picked up the phone and dialed the number for the editorial department of the paper.

“Hello?” a sleepy sounding voice answered the phone.

“Er, is this Mr. Brock?” she asked after peering at the name on the editorial page.

“Yes, what can I do for you?” the man asked.

“Your headline today, can you remove it?” she asked without thinking.

“Who is this?” Brock’s voice sounded more alert.

“Colt Montgomery’s manager. Our lawyer will be contacting your newspaper within a few hours. If you print a retraction in your late edition, we will withdraw our position.”

“And what position might that be, and isn’t Colt’s manager a guy?”

She cleared her throat and shuffled nervously. “I am the second in command, and your paper has slandered Mr. Montgomery. If you don’t print a retraction and an apology, we will be forced to take action against the newspaper, the editor in chief and,” she looked at the journalist by-line. “And Montie Wilks.”

“Listen, miss; I don’t know you. Are you a fan of the star? He’s a lucky guy …” the man was saying.

Chelsea’s heart rate quickened, and anger flared hotly within her. The man clearly did not believe her. “Are you calling me a liar? I tell you I am Chelsea Downing, the manager’s assistant, and I will have our lawyers contact you if you do …” someone grabbed the phone from her, midsentence.

Startled, she turned and collided with Colt’s hard chest. Her entire body flushed from contact with him, and an electrical current shot through her. She could smell his divine freshly showered scent. His body heat was seeping into her, and his eyes bored into hers as he held the phone to his ears.

“Montgomery here,” he said in his deep rumbling tone. “Listen, you don’t have to do anything. Just let the lawyers deal with it. We don’t have time to waste.”

He hung up and handed her the phone. They were still standing inches apart, and she could not tear her eyes away from his face. He hadn’t shaved, and she realized she liked the stubble. There were a few more revelations for her. She liked his lips. What would it be like to be kissed by him? Her eyes glued to them, and her cheeks burned.

His hand was still outstretched with the phone, and she took it. Their fingers brushed, sending another bolt of electricity up her arm. She sucked in her breath, and her eyes darted to his; he was looking at her in a weird manner that she did not understand. His eyes were a shade darker than they usually were, and she felt a pull towards him. Something was happening to her … between them … she was confused.

Then, before she knew it, he closed the small gap. His arm encircled her waist and pulled her to him. Her breast pushed into his chest, and her heart jumped to her throat. She could feel every nerve in her body start to go crazy, but her limbs also melted with the contact.

His head dipped, and her eyes widened. Her breath came in gasps as his lips descended on hers, and she lost it. His lips sizzled and burned her. When his lips touched hers, a bolt of lightning shot through her body. Her breathing stopped as she parted her lips to try to catch her breath. However, Colt seemed to have taken that as a cue to take her tongue. As his tongue encircled hers, another lightning bolt almost rendered her unconscious.

Her heart was doing backflips, and her mind had gone blank when she felt something hard pressing into her belly. At first, she thought it was Colt’s cellular phone, but when she felt it throb against her, she decided to check what it was. Their lips were still glued together when she reached between them and touched something warm. Her palm closed around it, and she stiffened. Colt growled against her lips, and a light went off in her brain.

With all her strength, she pushed against him. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked down at his nakedness. He had apparently come out in a towel, which he lost at some point during the last few minutes.

Her mouth fell open, and she brought her hand to cover it. Her free hand she placed on her racing heart and noticed her nipples raging against the fabric of her T-shirt. She wasn’t wearing bra. She was still in her sleepwear of shorts and T-shirt. A little self-consciously, she folded her arms across her chest and looked away.

In the corner of her eye, she saw him pick his towel up and walk away. After a few steps, he stopped. “Be quiet, I couldn’t sleep for all the racket.” His voice was low and thick. He stepped off again, and when he reached the bedroom door, he stopped but did not turn around. “You taste delicious,” he added, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

A myriad of emotions tormented her. She wanted to run and hide or bury her head somewhere. Then again, she wanted to run after Colt and demand he kiss her again. She was frightened, nervous, excited, and awakened. Something within her had awakened to the point where she felt aware of herself as a woman. She’d never felt it before, though she’d gone on dates and even been kissed.

The kiss. Was that really a kiss? Was this the kind of kiss she’d seen in the movies where the girl’s leg would bend at the knee and her leg would slowly rise behind her until it was at a 90-degree angle? Absently, she touched her lips, and they tingled at her own touch. She closed her eyes, recalling the last few minutes. She recalled his lips touching hers and the sensations coursing through her body. Mind blowing came to mind … utterly explosive.