Rockstar Untamed: A Single Dad Virgin Romance by Michelle Love (14)

“And now I have a great excuse to come back.”

“You’re moving back?”

“Yep. Seems only sensible to have a base there if we’re going to be together so much. Are you looking forward to Monday?”

God, yes. Bay pushed the thought of him in Seattle, so close and so near all the time, to the back of her head. “I am. Nervous too.”

“Don’t be. You were meant to do this. I just know it.”

Later, in bed, she’d Googled him. Tomas Meir, thirty-nine, Harvard Law graduate. Set up his own Entertainment Law label straight out of college. Briefly married in his late twenties. Known for being ruthless in the courtroom, but a stand-up guy outside. Bay squinted at the pictures of him—so handsome, so elegant. He radiated power and presence; he could easily have passed for a Roman emperor with those sculpted features. Yum. She sighed. He seemed …too perfect. In her experience, that meant trouble.

She closed her laptop and lay back on the bed. Great, she told herself, in five minutes you met, fell in love, and broke up with him. What is wrong with you?

She turned on her side and stared at the photo of Ravi on the nightstand. Her brother too had been gregarious, friendly, and successful. Seemingly, he had it all. Right up to the moment he’d deliberately driven his car at top speed into a wall. Bay winced; eighteen months later, the pain was still red raw. Only she knew the truth of Ravi’s death—his suicide—from the one-line note he’d left for his sister. I can’t do it anymore\. I’m sorry. I love you.

Bay shut off the lamp and turned away, a searing pain shooting through her stomach as it always did when she thought about her brother. It left her breathless and weak. Love is pain. That was the thought that kept pounding at her until finally, exhausted, she fell asleep.

 

Now, as she was surrounded by her friends, Bay poured them all some of the champagne Pete had brought with him, courtesy of Hank, Pete’s bar-owner husband. It was almost five p.m. when the door opened, and Bay was astonished to see Tomas walk in, grinning. He was of his suit, in jeans and t-shirt. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face—then she noticed the t-shirt he was wearing.

“Tomas Meir …is that a vintage Tambe Bike Shop t-shirt?” She was amazed. Her uncle briefly brought out the tees in the early 80’s and now they were like gold dust. She didn’t want to think about how much Tom had paid for it, but she was touched by the gesture. And boy, did he make it look good. The light blue made the green of his eyes even more intense, contrasting well with his black hair.

She introduced Tom to everyone. Pat, one of her oldest customers, eyed the tall man.

“You gonna make our Bay a star, then?”

Tomas grinned good-naturedly. “Bay’s already a star, I’m just going to help make her a successful one. If that’s what you want?” He smiled down at Bay, put a hand on her back, and she was lost.

 

Tom stayed until the last person left the shop, then helped Bay clear up. Just after midnight, she locked the door for the last time, and for a moment, she thought she might give in to the tears that threatened. That part of her life was finally over.

“You okay?” His voice was soft and sympathetic. She nodded, trying to smile.

“Come on, let me buy you a drink and we’ll say goodbye properly.” She let him steer her into his Mercedes, which was very nice, despite her teasing of him the night they met. He drove them into the quiet city and found a little bar tucked away downtown that was still serving beer. They found a little couch in the back. The bar was almost empty, with just low jazz playing in the background.

Tom and Bay fell into easy conversation. After a while, Tom, draining the last of his beer, turned to her. “So what the hell is Kym doing with that sleazeball?”

Bay grinned, relaxing. Tom was so easy to talk to. “You’ve got me. I’ve never understood the attraction. Maybe it’s co-dependency, I don’t know, but they’ve been off and on for years. Mostly on, which is annoying.”

Tom’s eyes were on her mouth in a way that made her feel so sexy and so wanton that she wanted to straddle him right then and there. She felt her face burn as slowly he raised his eyes to meet hers.

“And what about you?” His voice was deep, sensual murmur now, his desire burning in his eyes unmistakably. She could barely breathe.

“I don’t …get too involved.” Dammit, woman!

Tom didn’t seem fazed at all. “Me either. But sometimes …it’s just about the here and now. The moment.”

She couldn’t look away from his eyes. “I agree,” she said softly. Tom smiled and leaned over, brushing his lips across hers.

“Bay?” A whisper. A promise.

“Yes?” Breathless.

“I would like to take you back to my hotel with me tonight. Forget we’re going to be working together. Forget everything else. Tonight is just about you and me. What do you say?”

Her entire body was on fire, aching for his touch. Her breasts were swelling with her arousal. Tom kissed her again, harder this time, his fingers tangling in her hair and his tongue exploring her mouth. His lips cool and sweet against hers.

“Take me home,” Bay said, sinking into him and into the embrace, “Take me home with you …”

 

As the elevator reached the penthouse, Tom swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Laying her down on the bed, his fingers moved to the buttons on her dress and he undid them slowly them, kissing every part of her exposed skin. Bay was trembling and vibrating with desire from the feel of his cool lips on her skin. When he pulled down the lacy cup of her bra and took her nipple into his mouth, she couldn’t help the moan that escaped her. She felt a laugh rumble through his big body, his free hand slipping under her dress to caress her and his long fingers dipping into her panties and stroking her already quivering sex.

Impatiently, she tugged at his t-shirt, and he released her long enough to pull it over his head. His chest, broad and rock hard with a faint smattering of dark hair, made her already overheated body want desperately to feel his skin against hers, and she struggled out of her dress, wrapping her legs around his denim-clad legs. Tom kissed a trail up from her belly, between her breasts, then to her mouth as his lips covered hers hungrily.

“God, Bay …” She could feel the hot length of his erection through his jeans and her hands went to his fly, wanting to feel it, touch it, and taste it. Tom buried his face in her neck as he kicked off his jeans and underwear, tugging her panties down. His cock nudged against her, but he just kept stroking her, maneuvering down the bed. He pushed her legs further apart and slid his tongue along her labia, sending almost unbearable pleasure through her body as she writhed, her fingers tangled in his hair. His tongue lashed around her clit, teasing and tormenting. Then, as she gasped and came for the first but definitely not last time, he plunged his tongue deep inside her and she cried his name out over and over.

He continued to plunder her body until she was in such a delirium that when, finally, he drove his diamond-hard cock deep inside her, she screamed out and came again.

 

Tom, grinning triumphantly, pinned her hands to the bed, his eyes on hers, watching her pant and sweat beneath him. God, she was incredible. The way her curves undulated beneath him as they fucked, her thighs tightening around him, urging him deeper. His strokes became brutal as he neared his peak, and when, finally, with a hot rush, he came, his cum pumped deep inside her.

They collapsed together, laughing and gasping for air. After a moment, Tom stroked the damp hair away from her forehead, watched the lovely scarlet flush in her cheeks fade, and for once, was at a loss for words. Bay smiled up at him, running a finger down his cheek.

“Wow,” she murmured, and that was all they needed to say. Tom sought her lips again.

“Bay …such a beautiful name …”

She smiled. “It’s short for—are you ready for this--Baijayanthi.”

“That’s even more beautiful.”

She snorted. “If you say so. Can you imagine what roll call was like at school?”

Tom smiled. “If it makes you feel better, they always spelled my name with an ‘h.’”

She giggled. “Yup, that’s the same.”

He wrapped his arms around her and for a long time, they just enjoyed the silence, comfortable with each other.

“Tom,” Bay’s voice was suddenly uncertain, “I’m concerned.”

“About?”

She pulled away from so she could look into his eyes. “We said tonight. Nothing to do with anything else. But when we start to work together, with the band and everything, I think …we should …stay professional.”

Tom nodded, understanding. “I get it.”

“I just don’t want Kym and Pete to think I’m getting preferential treatment because we’ve …you know.”

He grinned at her shyness. “Done each other?” He wiggled his eyebrows, making her laugh. “Puritan.” He pulled her on top of him. “I understand. We won’t let us get in the way of anything, I promise. Total professionalism. But I just have to say …we’re not starting work until Monday.”

Bay grinned. “That’s right.” She moved down his body, stroked the length of him as it was already stiffening again. “We have all weekend.”

Tom sucked in a breath as she took him into her mouth, enjoying the soft, wet feel of her on his cock, licking, teasing, and tracing the lines of the veins engorging with blood. She brought him to the point of orgasm before he tugged her up and impaled her on his cock, entreating her to ride him harder, harder, harder ….

Monday morning and the Seattle sky was doing its best to drown out any happiness Bay might have felt. It was gray, sullen, and dumping sheet after sheet of rain down on the city. They were on their way to the studio, having arranged to meet Kym and Pete at ten a.m.

She had spent a blissful, sensual weekend with the tall man at her side and now she couldn’t shake the feeling that today marked not only the beginning of her new career, but the end of their affair. That thought made her sad, and yet, weirdly free. The sex had been incredible—Tom was an imaginative and selfless lover and she’d climbed all over that glorious body of his, completely uninhibited. It was the stuff in between that surprised her; his easy manner, his straightforward way of talking, his friendliness. She was unused to lovers being friends as well (she didn’t want to think about how fucked up that was), but Tom made her feel so comfortable. The only thing that bothered her was his great wealth and his obvious enjoyment of it. She’d been brought up frugally and hadn’t felt that she’d missed anything, but in Tom’s huge hotel room, with people at his beck and call, and literally anything she wanted at her fingertips, she’d felt out of her depth. Overwhelmed.

She felt him take her hand now as he drove them through the city. She smiled over at him.

“So, we better get our stories straight. Your car wouldn’t start and you were on the phone to me so I said I’d swing by and pick you up.”

“Got it. Nice and simple. But why were we on the phone?”

“Dirty talk.”

She laughed. “Darn it, that’s ruined that plan.”

“How about you were getting cold feet and called me to cancel? They’d believe that.” He grinned to let her know he was joking, but she sighed.

“Yep, probably.”

They pulled up to the recording studio and, after checking that no-one was watching, Tom leaned over and kissed her. “Don’t worry about it so much. It’ll all be fine.”

 

It was. As soon as they were inside the recording studio, Tom switched into uber-professional mode, giving them all a tour of the studio.

“Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains—they all recorded here. The crème de la crème of Seattle’s musical history. I think the 9th & Pine could join their ranks.”

“You know we’re just a covers band, right?” Bay said in a faint voice. The mention of Pearl Jam, her musical heroes, had sent her into panic mode. Kym grinned and Pete rolled his eyes.

“Breathe, Bay. Breathe,” the big man said and Tom grinned down at wither, with a little too much familiarity, she thought, risking a glance at her band mates. They hadn’t noticed anything, she saw, too awed by the studio’s history. Tom nodded.

“Come this way.” He led them into the tracking room, where a black Yamaha piano stood. He urged Bay to sit and play a few notes before leaning in and saying in a loud whisper, “That’s where Pearl Jam recorded Black.”

Bay shot up from the piano. “Holy fuckballs.” The rest of them burst out laughing at the shock on her face. They were still laughing when the door opened and Stu walked in, already annoyed, by the look on his face. His temper wasn’t improved by seeing them enjoying each other’s company without him.

“Why wasn’t I called about this meeting? Kym?”

Kym looked uncomfortable. “Because we’re just looking around the studio, Stu. That’s all. I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Nope,” said Bay. “This part has nothing to do with money, Stu. Just creativity. Why would you be interested?”

Stu gave her a withering look, then turned to Tom. “Contracts,” he barked at him. “We need to sign before any work is undertaken.”

Tom sighed. “Contracts will be here after lunch. My colleague, Roman, is bringing them. We’ll meet him at the Quartet office in the city. Satisfied? Good. Now, let’s go see the mixing room.”

 

Roman Ford felt every one of his forty-one years after dealing with Stu Lawson. The band, he liked enormously, every one of them committed and bright. He waited now while Tom saw them out of the building, promising to call later. He watched the look that passed between his best friend and Bay Tambe. Uh-oh.

As soon as Tom came back into the office and dropped into the seat opposite him, Roman narrowed his eyes at him. “Please tell me you’re not screwing the delectable Miss Tambe? Can I tell you what a mistake that would be?”

Tom shrugged, unrepentant. “We’ll keep it professional at work.” Roman saw how relaxed and happy his friend was and couldn’t bring himself to remonstrate with him. Tom deserved happiness. He just sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

“God, well, don’t let that screw this up. I like them. Time will tell whether they have the chops to be more than a great covers band, but in that area, you know better than me. You going to get Dash involved?”

“Not yet. They need time to write their own songs, get comfortable in that zone, and actually lay some tracks down. You know Dash,” he grinned when he thought of their much younger partner. “He’ll go all out on marketing without a solid product behind them and they’ll lose confidence.”

Roman nodded. “I know. He has gotten better,” he said, feeling he ought to defend his young friend.”

“Yes,” Tom replied, straight-faced, “Nowadays he waits until they’ve stepped into a recording studio.”

They both laughed. Their younger colleague had launched himself into the record company at full speed, desperate to prove to his beloved older brother’s best friends that he was worthy of them.

Tom was studying him. “You okay?” His voice had the edge that they all had since losing Sam—that horror of the possibility of losing another one of their number. Roman half-smiled.

“Yup, just tired. Kinda wishing my brother would step up and put some more time into the company, but then, I’m not a ‘world-class surgeon.’ His words.”

Tom grinned. Roman’s twin, Otis, could be unbearably sniffy, and was the one who had needed to be convinced even to invest in the company, but he had a good heart. It did irk Roman, Tom knew, that he, Tom, was more like a brother than his own was sometimes. Otis led a team of specialist surgeons down in Portland and was rarely, if ever, free to discuss the music business anymore.

“Remember when Otis was our mad pianist?” Tom said, picturing their college band, stuck in a grimy basement in one of their rented apartments with second-hand instruments.

“Remember when you were our mad drummer?” Roman shot back and laughed. “God, was that a million years ago?”

“You had a ’wake me up before you go-go’ t-shirt.”

“That is a damned lie, Meir. You had a tragic afro.”

“True story, but at least I didn’t have frosted tips.”

The banter carried on for a little while, then Tom reluctantly got up. “Lawson wants to meet with me without the band. He’s a pain in my ass already.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Give him the minimum to make him feel important, then ditch him. Isn’t that what we usually do with pain-in-the-ass managers?”

Tom gave him a fist bump. “Word, brother.”

“God, you’re thirty-nine, Tomas.”

“Word?”

“Word. Oh, hey,” Tom stopped at the door as Roman called out. “Careful with that singer. She has heartbreak written all over her.”

 

Tom was still thinking about what Roman said when he drove back to his hotel alone. He and Bay had said weekends only, with no work talk and no strings. At least for now. He had the feeling Bay was holding back on something. When he’d said “no strings,” she’d looked relieved. That had stung a little, but something told him that her reticence wasn’t to do with him. Their connection was something they’d both felt: electric and all-consuming.

In his room, he showered and changed into sweats, ordering room service and flicking on the television set to the news. When it came, the food was good, but Tom felt restless. In this blank (admittedly luxurious) hotel room, so far away from his home in L.A., he missed his books, his vinyl collection—hell, even his ancient drum kit. Tomas Meir had great wealth, but the things that mattered to him, really mattered to him, cost nothing but time and effort. His family, his friends, music, and reading. He could take or leave L.A. Seattle was in his heart.

A thought came to him then and he grabbed his cell. Dialing, he waited for the answer.

“Hey, you,” he said warmly. “I’m not breaking our rule, but I wondered. Could you maybe help me find a house in the city?”

Bay waved at him happily as he pulled the car up to the curb and opened the door for her. She scooted in beside him and grinned. “It’s Saturday.”

He laughed. “Yes, it is. Which means …” He took her face in the palms of his hands and kissed her so thoroughly she had to gasp for air when they broke free.

“Yeah, that’s the stuff.” She smiled and he drew his hand down her cheek.

“Missed you this week.”

“Me too, but we got a ton of stuff down on paper. Oh, no, don’t look excited. It’s all rough ideas, and really, none of us have the first idea what we’re doing, but, god, we so enjoyed it.” Her face was glowing. Her obvious excitement and joy at finally being able to do what she loved was infectious, and more than ever, Tom was convinced he had made the right decision.

“Well, I was going to suggest we go look at houses, but, damn it, you look so gorgeous that I’m thinking …” His meaning was clear and Bay rolled her eyes, grinning.

“Come on, Don Juan, let’s find you somewhere to live first.”

The third house they looked at—a houseboat on Lake Washington—they shared a glance and Tom knew. This was it. It wasn’t the biggest they’d seen, but the layout was perfect, and when they stepped out onto the deck and looked out over the water, Tom could see them sitting here after dinner and watching the twilight fall over the lake. He pulled himself up then. They? You’ve just met the girl, jackass. Roman was right—what the hell was he doing? He pushed the thought away and went to find Bay.

Bay was looking around the huge kitchen. “Can you cook?” She said to him as he caught up with her. “Because if you can’t, it’s a waste. This place gets better.”

She flipped the spider burners on and off and opened cupboards, standing on her tip-toes to see in. Tom watched her, smiling to himself. No strings, he reminded himself. No commitment. But he couldn’t help running a slow finger up her bare spine. She was wearing a sundress, halter straps around her slender neck barely holding up the bodice that contained her full breasts. The dress skimmed over her body and flared out at the hips to flow loosely around her legs.

“You are utterly adorable,” he said, before he could help himself. Bay shut the cupboard and grinned, then stuck her head out of the kitchen door to see the realtor waiting patiently in the living room.

“We just need a few minutes.”

The realtor nodded and smiled. “Of course. I’ll be outside. Take as long as you need.”

Bay smiled up at Tom, waiting for the door to close behind the realtor, then she grabbed his hand guided it under her dress. Tom’s eyes widened.

“Commando, huh?”

She grinned at him, her fingers at his fly, unzipping and reaching into his underwear. His cock responded immediately and Tom pulled her into his arms, kissing her as he lifted her onto the counter and thrust into her. It was a wild, brutal fuck, made all the more thrilling with the thought of discovery.

“God, you are intoxicating,” he groaned into her neck as he came, muffling his moans in her thick, dark, hair.

 

Afterward, still grinning and hand-in-hand, they went to meet the realtor and Tom told her he wanted the houseboat.

They went to eat at a little restaurant Bay recommended down on the waterfront, got a table outside, and enjoyed a leisurely lunch. They chatted about his new home and what the band had been working on.

“As I said, we don’t really know what we’re doing yet and because Pete and Kym have real jobs,” she grinned at that, “a couple of times, I’ve been on my own and scratching around, not knowing what to do.”

“Play the Yamaha?” Tom suggested and Bay flung her hair back dramatically.

“That, sir, is the holy line of demarcation. I shalt not touch it again until I am worthy.”

Tom laughed. “You shalt not?”

“I shalt not.”

“Loon.” He leaned over and kissed her, then sat back, thoughtful. “How about we find a mentor for you? Someone on the Quartet roster who wouldn’t mind you hanging with them for a week or so to learn the ropes.”

Bay looked shy. “Really? What if …?”

“What?”

She leaned in and whispered, “What if they figure out I’m not …genuine. That I haven’t done this before?”

Tom leaned in too. “First, you are about as far from disingenuous as a person could be, and two, that’s the whole point of a mentor. Now, eat your food and shut up.”

Bay blew a raspberry at him. “Bossy.”

Tom smiled. “I actually know the perfect person to team you with. Rocky Apsilom.”

Bay nearly choked on a French fry. “Are you kidding me?”

Rocky Apsilom was the star on Quartet’s label. A fierce rap singer from San Francisco, she was known for her abhorrence of the misogyny rife in her genre and said so, loudly and proudly. She was sensational. Tom had signed her himself and now he realized she was the perfect mentor for Bay. Rocky was professional, intelligent and …

“Terrifying,” Bay moaned, looking green. Tom smirked in satisfaction.

“Yep. Therefore, perfect for knocking that lack of self-confidence out of you. I’ll set it up.”

“Now, wait, wait, wait,” Bay looked genuinely panicked. “What about Kym and Pete?”

“If they can take the time off from their real jobs, then sure. Bay, look. I know, Kym and Pete know, even that worm Lawson knows, you are the driving force of this band. Whatever Rocky teaches you, you will naturally pass down to the guys.”

Bay looked uncertain and he took her hand. “Look, sweetheart, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. Your business closed. You’re working on new songs for the band, I know, but there’s something else I’d like you to consider—songwriting for other artists. It’s lucrative, totally creative and collaborative, and it’s a good thing to have in your back pocket.”

Bay was chewing on her bottom lip. “I never even thought about that. Huh.”

“You doing okay for money?”

She smiled softly. “Is that what you’re worried about? I have the money from the business, plus some savings. I’m doing okay, Tom, but thank you.”

He nodded. “Good …because if you ever needed anything— “

“No strings, Tomas.” She softened the reminder with a smile. “We’ve known each other a few weeks. No strings.”

Tom felt antsy then, but he shoved the thought away. She was right. Roman’s warning came back to him. Don’t fuck this up. “Cool,” he said, instead of what he wanted to say. “So I’ll set things up with Rocky?”

Bay hesitated for just a second more, then nodded. “Okay. Okay, then.”

He kissed her. “Now, seeing as I broke our rule about no business on the weekend …let me take you back to my hotel and make up for it.”

 

In the end, it was just Bay who went to San Francisco. Pete and Kym encouraged her—Pete had looked as alarmed as Bay had at the mention of the forthright Rocky—and now as Bay rode in the cab to the studio, she felt her stomach clenching with nervousness.

She smiled at the receptionist and told her who she was. The woman, whose name tag said Hopi, grinned. “We’ve been expecting you. Come with me.”

She wheeled herself out from behind her desk and deftly maneuvered herself into a wheelchair with a funky flame design on the wheels. Bay walked beside her down the long hallway. She admired Hopi’s badass finger gloves.

“Gives me a good grip.” Hopi shrugged good-naturedly. “One benefit to this thing is great upper body strength. Now, up two flights, honey, and it’s the last door at the end of the corridor.”

Bay thanked her, but then hesitated, calling out after her. “Is she scary?”

Hopi laughed. “Nah, she’s a pussycat.” Bay chuckled as Hopi moved back to her reception desk. Everyone she’d met who was connected to Tomas was so friendly and helpful, she felt her nerves disappear. When she knocked on Rocky’s studio door, it was flung open and a beaming, extremely tall African American woman greeted her with a “Hey, girl.” She wondered why she’d been scared.

 

Kym tugged the door of the record shop shut with a sigh. She’d been covering double shifts for a sick colleague and now, at nearly midnight on a Friday night, she just wanted to go home, shower, and fall into bed. The one thing she had stuck to in her relationship with Stu was separate apartments. She needed space and Stu …Kym was in no doubt that he cheated regularly on her. What shocked her was that she didn’t think she cared anymore. The one time she had challenged him on the subject …she stopped walking, feeling a wave of nausea rise up in her stomach. Late at night when she was undressing, she could still see the weird shape of her bottom left-side rib—the one he’d broken and that she’d been too afraid to go have checked out at the hospital.

Her phone buzzed as she walked to her car, and getting in, she checked the screen and smiled. She pressed accept.

“Hey, Bubbaloo. Still hanging out with the rich and famous?”

Bay laughed. “Hell, yes. In fact, who are you? Who am I calling? How dare you address me! Should I get my p.a. to talk to you?”

Kim chuckled. “I am honored to speak with you, your highness. Seriously, how is it?”

“Mind-blowing, exhausting, and exhilarating, and I cannot wait to get back to Seattle and get started with you and the Pete-Meister. How are things there?”

“You know how it is. The usual. Are you coming back soon?”

Bay hesitated. “I am, but listen, K, I wanted to talk to you about something. Rocky has asked me to do some vocals on her next track.”

Kym felt a jolt in her chest. Jealousy? No freakin’ way, she told herself. I’m not that girl. “Dude, that’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Really?”

Kym tried to smile. It was just like Bay to be worried what Kym thought. “Bay, listen, you have to take these opportunities as they come along. I love you and I cannot wait to hear it.”

 

Stu was waiting on her front steps when she got home and for a moment she toyed with the idea of driving on, avoiding him. Then he looked up from his phone and waved.

Shoot. There went her peaceful night. She got out slowly. At least, she thought, he didn’t have a key. That had been her other condition.

“You’re later than I thought you would be.” His tone was even, but her heart sank.

“I was talking to Bay. She had some news to tell me.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She reluctantly let Stu follow her into the apartment.

“What news?”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Kym prevaricated by snagging two beers from the refrigerator. “She’s got a gig on Rocky Apsilom’s new record. Featured vocals.”

Stu reacted exactly how Kym expected him to react. “The fuck? Why wasn’t I told?”

“I just found out myself.”

“That sneaky, fucking bi…”

“Stu, please calm down.”

Stu drained half his beer, then pointed at her. “This. This is exactly what I warned you about. I told you she was being groomed for solo success.”

“Stu, this could really be good for the band. Publicity …it’ll get the word out if the record is a success.”

“Christ, you’re so naïve.” Stu scratched his thinning scalp in frustration. “Can’t you see what’s happening? Meir is setting her up to be his star.” He stopped pacing for a moment and looked at her, a strange smile on his face. “You know he’s fucking her, right?”

Kym rolled her eyes. “Now you are being ridiculous. You know how Bay is. She’s a solitary creature.”

Stu didn’t stop smiling and now she was starting to get creeped out. “Bay’s a beautiful woman,” Stu sneered. “A beautiful, talented woman. She has needs. I bet she has a world class cunt too.”

Kym spun around, and before she could stop herself, she slapped him, whack, across the face.

Oh god. Stu grabbed her wrist and bent her arm back until she was forced to bend over. She cried out in pain as he twisted it behind her back. With his lips to her ear, he hissed in a low voice. “You get that one, Kym. You get that one. Watch yourself.”

He let her go and she skittered to the other side of the kitchen. Stu grabbed another beer. “I’ve seen them together. I had them followed. They’re fucking, all right, and it’s been going on practically since the start.”

Kym said nothing, closing her eyes. Her arm throbbed with pain and she knew she wouldn’t be able to move it in the morning. Stu knew exactly how and where to hurt her. And yet …now that she thought about it, she believed him. It was so obvious. Bay and Tom. She herself had teased Bay about the couple’s insane chemistry.

“Even if they are involved with each other, it’s nothing to do with us or the band.”

Stu made a disgusted noise and Kym edged towards the bedroom. “I’m tired, Stu, and I have a long day tomorrow, so …”

For a moment, it seemed as if he would insist on staying, but then he nodded. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

She double-locked the door behind him and padded into her bedroom, stripping off her clothes, and falling into bed. She closed her eyes but her mind was too active. Was Stu right? And why hadn’t Bay told her about Tomas? They’d shared confidences since they were teenagers stuck at a high school full of mean girls, and as the two “weirdos,” had forged their own path through the hell that was adolescence. Everything, they’d shared everything. Why wouldn’t Bay tell her if she and Tom were lovers?

Kym stared up and the ceiling and wondered whether Stu’s wild theory could have any truth to it.

God, she hoped not …

 

Bay clasped her hands together to stop them shaking as Rocky cued up the track. They were sitting in Quartet’s boardroom, and Bay, for the first time, had met Tom’s partners; the young, way-too-pretty-for-his-own-good Dash Hamilton; the quiet and intense Roman Ford, and his fraternal twin, Otis, who was studious and confident. Another woman had joined Rocky, and Rocky had introduced her to Bay as her agent, Emily. Emily was a very pretty blonde woman who Bay warmed to immediately, her manner confident and efficient.

It was the first time any of them had heard the track all the way through and Bay felt sick with nerves. All through the process, she and Rocky had worked so well together. They were so natural that while they were in the studio, she had been in no doubt they had made a fantastic record …but now all her confidence deserted her.

Tom winked at her as Rocky pressed play. Even he had refused to listen until now. He wanted all of their reactions to be as natural, as organic, as possible.

Bay jumped as her own voice soared out of the speakers in the room and she felt her face burn as everyone reacted, sitting up. She even heard a quiet, “Jesus,” from one of the men. Even she, as modest as she was, had to admit that she’d nailed the vocal. When Rocky’s rap came in, their voices weaved around each other, in and out, up and down, making a wall of melody so addictive that the atmosphere in the room became electric. It wasn’t a long track, maybe two minutes and fifty seconds, but when it was over, the room was silent for a beat.

Bay glanced at Tom. His smile was all she needed to know. Roman Ford started to clap and the others joined in as Rocky nodded in appreciation and Bay laughed, amazed.

“That was incredible. Wow …just wow.” Otis shook his head and Tom laughed.

“When Otis is lost for words, you know you’ve done a good job.” He got up, kissed Rocky on the cheek, and hugged Bay, whispering to her. “You did good, sweetheart, really good.”

Her whole body seemed alive with adrenaline and excitement. She blinked back the tears that sprang into her eyes and she let out a long breath. Rocky high-fived her and Emily grinned.

“I think we have a great new songwriting partnership on our hands.”

Dash looked over at his partners. “I say we get this out as soon as possible.”

“For once, I agree,” Roman said, his quiet demeanor a peaceful oasis amidst the excitement. He smiled kindly at Bay. “You sure you’re ready for this? Because this record is going to be huge and I don’t say that often.”

“You never say that,” Dash muttered. “Look, we need to make a video and get some publicity shots done. Bay, how long are you in SF for?”

Bay looked at Tom, who nodded encouragingly. Bay took a deep breath in. “As long as I’m needed for this. I do need to get back to the band, though. That’s why I’m here, after all.”

Dash shared a look with Otis that she didn’t understand, but Tom nodded.

“Of course. Look, there may be appearances with Rocky to promote the record—you okay with that?”

Suddenly she felt overwhelmed and panic rose in her. Tom, watching her, saw it in her eyes and put a hand on her back. “Look, guys, I think we need to take a break.”

 

They found a quiet office along the corridor and Tom shut the door. “You okay?”

Bay shook her head. “It’s so much, Tom. I didn’t realize. I hadn’t even considered the promotion side …look, I’m worried that Kym and Pete will think—“

“Hey, hey, hey, easy.” He took her in his arms and felt her body trembling. “We can work around this. Plenty of featured artists don’t appear in the videos, but look, in this case, maybe we could get Kym and Pete to come down and we’ll release it as, “Featuring The 9th & Pine’”

Bay backed up and looked up at him. “Really? Even though they didn’t play on the record.”

Tom smiled. “Happens more than you think.”

 

“So we’d just be actors in the video, then?” They were on a conference call with Kym and Pete—and Stu, who was uncharacteristically silent.

“No, you’d be appearing as The 9th & Pine—as the featured artists.” Tom’s voice had a little edge to it. He’d explained it more than once already. Pete, in his easy way, had said, “Sure, why not? Been a while since I saw ’Frisco.”

Bay felt uneasy. Kym was being edgy. This was what she was afraid of. “Look, K, as far as I’m concerned it’s either all of us or none of us.”

Kym sighed. “That’s not fair. You worked so hard.”

“Doesn’t mean anything without you guys,” Bay said softly.

“This is all very touching,” Stu said finally, his voice icy. “But there’s a thing such as contracts to sort out here.”

“Not if Bay appears as a solo artist.”

“Does she?”

Bay opened her mouth, but Tom shook his head at her, pointing at the phone and mouthing, “I’m jerking his chain”. Bay shut her mouth and grinned. Tom didn’t answer Stu’s question directly, instead saying, in a bored voice, “In any case, this record is not part of the 9th & Pine’s contract.”

“Still, I am Bay’s manager—“

“Excuse me, but you are not my manager. You’re barely the band’s manager.” Bay’s words were harsh, she knew, but Stu had irritated her beyond comprehension.

“Look,” Kym sounded upset. “I think maybe we should just leave this. Bay, look, go make the video, do the promo, then come back and tell us what you’ve learned so we can get this project off the ground.”

After Tom ended the call, Bay sat back in her chair, looking unhappy. Tom waited for her to speak. Finally, she sighed.

“I think Kym’s right. On the record, can we use, ‘Featuring Bay Tambe, of The 9th & Pine?’ If we could make that work, I wouldn’t feel so bad. We could maybe get some press for the band.”

Tom tipped her chin up with his finger and kissed her. “Of course we can. Stop worrying. We’ll get things scheduled and you can be back in Seattle by the end of next week.”

 

In the end, it was two weeks before Bay got back home. Quartet dropped the single the day after the showcase at the office, shot the video two days later, and got it into rotation on the music channels three days after that. Within forty-eight hours it was rising up the billboard chart on downloads alone and the music press went crazy. The morning before she flew back to Seattle, Bay had her first interview—thankfully a joint one with Rocky—with Rolling Stone. Everyone wanted to know where the amazing voice had come from and when they got their first look at the gorgeous, young newcomer to the scene, it only increased their fascination.

In every interview, despite her terror, Bay made sure she talked about Kym and Pete as often as answering questions about herself. For extra confidence, Rocky’s agent, Emily, took her and Rocky out to breakfast beforehand and they both coached her.

“If you don’t like a question, either don’t answer it or send it back to them as a joke. Be easy and natural, but if you feel like you’re getting out of your depth, just look at Rocky and she’ll take over.”

Rocky was scarfing down an enormous breakfast burrito (one of the things they had bonded over most was food and their love of it). She grinned with her mouth full and Bay chuckled. “I am going to miss seeing you every day, Rocks.”

Rocky bumped her shoulder to Bay’s. “An hour away on the plane. Besides, I fully expect to be asked to guest on your first record.”

Emily smiled at Bay. “You’ll do fine. Believe me.”

 

Bay dropped her case on the floor of her apartment—her very dusty and dank apartment—and shuffled, exhausted, into the bathroom. She’d taken the red-eye. Tom had to stay behind in San Francisco for a meeting, and all she wanted now was to shower, take a nap, then go and meet Kym. She showered, sighing with relief as the water washed away the plane ride, then decided to make an omelet before going to bed. She flicked on the T.V. as she mixed the eggs, listening idly to Matt Lauer chat to his guest. It was only as she flipped her omelet onto a plate and sat down to eat that she took notice and sat up.

Kym’s mom, Charlie Clayton, was being interviewed about her latest record. God, to look that good when I’m sixty, Bay smiled fondly. She’d always liked Kym’s mom. It was just when she overshadowed her daughter that Bay caught Kym’s resentment. If Bay was being honest, she thought Kym’s dad was a tool and a dinosaur who still thought a woman’s purpose was to be barefoot and pregnant and that was it.

Matt was asking Charlie about her daughter, and Bay was glad when Charlie happily and proudly told him about The 9th & Pine’s record deal with Quartet and what that would mean to her daughter. Then Matt brought up Bay’s single with Rocky. Charlie smiled at him.

“Of course, Bay is the natural talent in that band. Kym has always had to work a little harder. Sometimes I wonder if there wasn’t a baby swap back in the day.”

“Oh fuck.” Bay let her fork clatter to the table and dropped her head into her hands. On the T.V. Matt Lauer laughed awkwardly and moved on. Bay grabbed her phone and called Kym.

“K, it’s me.”

“Oh, hey.” Kym’s voice was unnaturally high and Bay knew instantly she’d seen the interview. “If it isn’t the talent in the band.”

“Kymmy.” Bay never called her Kymmy unless it was an emergency like this. “You know what’s she’s like sometimes—all the tact of a wrecking ball. It’s not true and it’s not how she really feels.”

There was a long silence. “It’s how I feel.” Bay could barely hear her, but then she heard her sob.

“Oh Kym …look, I’m back now. Can I come over and see you?”

“No,” Kym’s answer was quick and hard, but then she sighed. “Sorry. I mean …I just need some time. Maybe in a couple of days. Bay?”

“What is it, honey?”

A pause, then, “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Tom?”

Bay felt a hot burn of shock. “What?”

“You and Tom. You’re sleeping with him, right?”

Bay swallowed and hesitated. “Yes.”

“And it’s been going on for a quite a while.”

“Yes.”

Kym gave a soft laugh. “Well, then.”

“It has nothing to do with the band.”

“Sure.”

“It really hasn’t.”

Kym sighed. “I have to go.”

“Kym, no, I—“ Kym had hung up.

Bay put her phone down, rested her head on the table, and groaned. “Fuck. Fuck.”

 

Kym crawled back to bed. She’d called into work sick this morning, too tired and sore to face anyone. Since the conference call with Bay and Tom two weeks earlier, Stu had been more and more irritable, until last night he’d snapped. She’d barely managed to barricade herself in the bathroom after he’d punched her to the floor, kicking her in the stomach as he ranted about betrayal, Bay, Tom, and how no-one gave him the respect he deserved.

She knew why he was behaving the way he was. Cocaine. A small vial of the white drug had fallen out of his pocket and rolled underneath the oven. He’d accused her of stealing it from his pocket when he couldn’t find it. In the end, she’d curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor and let him rant. She’d fallen asleep, only waking when he banged the front door on the way out.

Now she just wanted to sleep, drained of all her energy. Despite the abomination he was, Stu had been right about Bay and Tom, and now it seemed he’d been right about Tom grooming her best friend. Who could blame him?

“Not you, Mom,” she laughed humorlessly to herself. The pain that had shot through her at her mother’s words had burned her last shred of self-esteem.

Kym closed her eyes and prayed that she would never, ever have to wake up.

 

Tomas sat across from Bay and wondered where his lover had gone. She was so quiet and distant, and she had been since he got back from San Francisco. He’d had a craving for seafood and now they were sitting in this high-end seafood restaurant, exquisite food in front of them, and Bay was just …absent.

“Hey,” he leaned over the table and took her hand. “How does it feel to be the hottest thing on the Billboard chart?”

Bay blinked back and smiled at him. He noticed there were dark circles under her eyes and that their usual sparkle was gone. The violet had flattened into a dark purple.

“It’s cool. It’s just …I should be doing this with Kym and Pete.”

Tom sat back, frustrated. “Sweetheart, this is the game. We need to build a profile and the easiest way to do that is to feature on an already established artist’s record. You’ve done that and it’s a success. Now when the 9th & Pine release their own material, you’ll have a built-in fan base that will only grow. It’s Recording Industry 101.”

Bay leaned on her hand. “I know. I just feel like they—well, Kym—feels that I’m taking all the credit and publicity …and I don’t want it. I never have. I just want to play music.”

Her voice had gotten higher and higher until she broke off, looking away from him, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

Tom was silent. He wanted to wave a magic wand or have a problem he could throw money at and solve, but Bay’s lack of self-confidence wasn’t something he could do anything about. He told her that and she nodded sadly.

“I know and I don’t want you to think I’m not incredibly grateful, because I am. But maybe we’re rushing this.”

Tom suddenly realized she wasn’t just talking about the band. “You thinking that you and I are rushing things?”

She nodded, not meeting his gaze. “It’s all been so quick, I haven’t had time to process what we are to each other. I know we said no strings, but the way I feel …I can’t risk my heart for a fling.”

Tom breathed out. “This isn’t a fling. It’s not. I know that—I feel that. You mean more to me than that. Much more.”

She did look at him then. “As you do to me. It’s just, I’m not sure I’m ready for it to be more.” She gave a little laugh and a tear escaped. “I’m a mess, Tom. I may not seem it, but I am, and I don’t want to be a mess for you.

Tom leaned in and took her hand again. “Okay. Okay, let’s just slow things down. But, Bay, talk to me. Tell me what’s bothering you. What’s going on in that brilliant head of yours?”

She smiled. “Nothing you need to worry about. Look, I still want to do the band thing. I think once we get back in the studio together, I’ll feel better. Like it’s more collaborative and that the others are involved.”

He drove her home afterward and walked her to the door. Bay stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I feel badly. I feel like I’m pushing you away and I don’t mean to.”

He stroked his hand under her hair, massaging the back of her neck. He could feel the muscles bunch up. “Then don’t. I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to. I’ll wait until you’re ready. Just be ready soon.” He grinned to soften his words and bent his head to kiss her, lingering over the embrace until he felt her body melt against his.

“You’re not making this easy,” she grumbled, but her lips sought his again and then his arms were around her and she pulled him into the apartment. Tom grinned wickedly, unrepentant.

“You bet I’m not …call this a cooling off period. You know, the kind where you can change your mind if you want.”

“I don’t want …” But she had his shirt off and was kissing his chest, grazing his nipple with her teeth. He unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor, pulling at her bra and panties until she was naked in his arms.

“We should stop …” But her hands were at his fly, reaching in to stroke his cock, so thick and heavy already. He backed her up into her bedroom and they collapsed on the bed, fevered, clawing at each other, touching, tasting, drinking each other in.

“Don’t wait,” Bay gasped as he took first one and then the other nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting. His cock, bobbing under its own massive weight, plunged into her soft, velvety cunt and they moved together, their damp, excited bodies vibrating with pleasure. Tom bit down on her earlobe. “God, I want to fuck you all night,” he murmured and she felt a fiery rush of arousal flood through her at his words.

“Then do, oh …” Tomas slammed his hips into hers and she cried out, her nails tearing at his back. He drove her on and on toward her climax and when she came, it was a shuddering, trembling explosion of abandon.

When she woke in the morning, he was gone.

 

Bay pushed open the back door to the venue on 9th and Pine just as she had a million times before, but today was different. Today she didn’t know what she was walking into. Kym hadn’t answered any of her calls and hadn’t even answered her door when Bay went to her apartment. She didn’t even know if Kym would show at all. She said hi to the front-of-house guys who teased her as always, making her feel better.

Pete was already practicing when she made her way to the stage. His beaming smile and his big bear hug helped enormously. “Hey, kiddo, how are you doing? I missed your face.”

She tightened her arms around him. “Missed you too, Bear. I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long.”

Pete grinned and patted her back. “All worth it, though, Miss Numero Uno on the Billboard chart.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is it wrong that I’m kind of sick of the sound of my own voice at this point?”

Pete laughed. “Well, get over it. We have an album to write and songs to be sung.”

Bay put her bag down and shrugged out of her denim jacket. “Kym coming?” She tried to sound casual, but the look in Pete’s eye told her he wasn’t fooled.

“No idea. Haven’t talked to her for a while. You?”

She shook her head. “Well, maybe we should just work on the set list for Friday and see if she turns up.”

An hour later, Bay’s mood had lifted. Pete had deliberately kept her laughing as they picked songs for the gig. She glanced at her watch.

“Hey, should I go get us some coffee?”

She walked down to the coffeehouse at the corner of the block and ordered their usual drinks. As she waited, she suddenly saw Stu in a corner booth, talking animatedly to a person seated opposite. Bay edged around so she could see. It was a very young, very pretty redhead who Bay guessed to be graduate student aged. She was looking at Stu as if he were a demi-god. Bay gave a disgusted noise. Asshole. She could imagine exactly what he was saying to the girl—what bullshit he was spinning. She paid for the coffee, thanked the barista, and made her escape.

“You’ll never guess who I saw,” she said, pushing the door open with her shoulder, then stopped. Kym stood with Pete, her eyes cold and unfriendly. Bay’s heart sank.

“Hey,” she said, handing a coffee to Pete. “Sorry, I didn’t think you were coming.”

Kym said nothing, just turned and picked up her guitar. “I see the set list has been decided already, like so much other stuff, so let’s just get on with this, shall we?”

Bay looked at Pete, who rolled his eyes. Nothing ever phased Pete. Bay sat at the piano and shrugged. “Okay.”

They went through five songs before Kym started to play erratically, squealing feedback as she moved her guitar over near the speaker. Bay and Pete stopped playing as she went into a long solo, out of tune, smiling nastily at her friends.

When she stopped, Bay was no longer guilty or upset, but supremely, overwhelmingly pissed.

“The fuck is wrong with you, Kym?”

Kym feigned surprise. “Oh, sorry, was that not up to your standards, Miss Billboard?”

“Don’t be a fucking bitch. Grow the hell up or get out of here.” Bay slammed the lid of the piano shut. “If you can’t be professional – “

Kym gave an expansive bow. “Do forgive me, your highness, but some of us aren’t ‘that talent in the band.’ Some of us don’t get given a career. Some of us don’t suck billionaire cock to get to the top of the fucking charts.”

Bay rocked back at the venom in Kym’s voice. She had opened her mouth to speak when Pete, his voice growling with anger, interrupted her.

“You don’t get to talk to Bay like that, missy. Not ever. Not here.”

Pete got up from behind his drum kit, all six-foot-seven of him, and glowered at Kym. “It’s not Bay’s fault that your Mom hasn’t the tact nor grace to acknowledge that she raised a talented, special daughter, despite her own failings. Neither of us would be here without Bay pushing us all those years ago. Do you think it was easy for the fat, gay kid at that school? Or the mixed-race girl with no parents? You got it easy, Kym. If your life hasn’t turned out the way you wanted it to, it’s down to you.”

Kym and Bay were staring at him in astonishment. Pete looked between them both and went back to sit behind his kit. “Now, shall we get through this rehearsal?”

Kym nodded once, a stiff, quick nod, not looking at Bay. They managed to get through the rest of the set list, but as soon as the last note was played, Kym jerked the guitar off and left. Bay let out a huge sigh. Pete hugged her, but Bay’s eyes filled with tears. “Shit,” she said. “Everything’s such a mess.”

Pete held her as she wept for a moment, then as she brushed the tears away, he grabbed her jacket. “Come on. You need a night of silliness at Hank and Pete’s.”

 

Tom fought the urge to call Bay, knowing that she needed space, but it was driving him crazy. He wasn’t an arrogant man but he’d never had to try before. Women fell over themselves to get to him. He conceded with a wry grin that maybe that wasn’t a good thing. But, God, he just wanted to go over there and kiss that golden skin, that deep pink mouth, and see those violet eyes soft with love.

His intercom buzzed. “Stuart Lawson is here to see you.”

Fuck, that was all he needed. “Okay, let him in. Then call pest control to fumigate the place.”

His assistant covered a snort of laughter. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Tom stared at Stu coolly as the man sat down in front of him. “What’s up?”

Stu smirked. “I want to know how Bay’s record is going to help the band. At the moment, all the press seems to be interested in is her. That wasn’t our deal.”

Tom sat back in his seat. “Of course the press is going to be interested in her, but, if you actually bothered to read the interviews, all Bay does is talking about the band. I’ll admit, she hasn’t mentioned you once.” Childishly, he enjoyed the look of annoyance on Stu’s face.

“Be that as it may, we’re not moving forward.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Stu smirked. “Don’t you know? I would have thought you would have heard it from the horse’s mouth—unless, of course her mouth was busy elsewhere.”

Tom went very still. When he spoke, his voice was hard and flinty. “You need to watch yourself, Lawson. Now, I’ll ask again—what’s the problem?”

Stu, his supercilious smirk still plastered on his face, said, “The rest of the band is pissed. They feel they’ve been left behind by Bay’s success.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Sure they do, because both Kym and Pete haven’t the sense to know that any publicity is good publicity. As far as I’m aware, they’re still booked into the studio we chose; we’ve scheduled the sessions around Kym and Pete’s—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know all this. What I mean is money. How much does the band get from the sales of the single?”

Tomas smiled. “Nothing. That money is Bay’s and Bay’s alone. Both Kym and Pete knew this and were fine with it …unless, of course, someone has been poisoning the well.”

Stu was wide-eyed and innocent. “No idea what you mean. Well, this was great. We must do this again sometime.” He got up. “That contract is watertight. Pay or play, Meir. I don’t care if your girlfriend’s fucking Madonna. We had a deal. Make it happen.”

Tom blew out his cheeks after Stu had left. The dude was an idiot. He knew about himself and Bay, though, clearly, and Tom wondered how. The disturbing thought that Stu might be following them—or stalking Bay—leaped to the forefront of his mind.

He pushed the thought away. Whether he liked or not, Bay was Stu’s meal ticket. He wouldn’t fuck that up. Would he?

 

Pete and Hank drove Bay home that night after plying her with food and drink and finally coaxing a smile out of her. Pete made sure she got to her door, then hugged her. “Don’t worry about Kym. She’s mad at the world lately. That damn mother of hers didn’t help.”

Bay leaned against him. “I don’t think I did either.”

Pete kissed the top of her head. “Get some sleep, honey.”

He opened her door for her and she swayed inside before turning. “Petesh?”

He smiled at her slurred words. “Yes?”

She hiccupped gently. “I’m in love with Tom.”

Pete’s grin widened. “Tell me something I don’t know. Get into bed and call him.”

After Pete had gone, Bay filled a large glass of water and drained it, ferreting in the pantry for a bag of potato chips. She wandered around her tiny apartment and remembered what it had been like to swank around in Tomas’s hotel suite or screw like teenagers in the houseboat he was now living in. She grabbed her phone—booty call?—then shoved it deep into her bag. She didn’t want to mess with his head and there was always a risk of him rejecting her. She wouldn’t blame him.

She had turned to go the bedroom when there was a knock at the door. She squinted at the clock. Just after one a.m. A strange fluttering excitement started in her belly. Maybe he’d been thinking the same thing …

She opened the door and groaned. Stu. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s one a.m. Come to tell me I’m a diva? Cause your girlfriend already covered that.”

Stu smiled, then before she could react, he pushed into the flat, slamming the door behind him. “We need to have a little talk.”

Her heart pounding, Bay backed away from him. “Stu, get the hell out of here.”

He ignored her and sat down at the kitchen table, crossing his legs. Bay, still drunk, felt a prickling fear crawling over her skin. The alcohol made her movements uncoordinated and awkward. Keep him calm. She sat down at the other end of the table. Stu smiled, victorious.

“Now,” he leaned forward. “Here’s the deal. I worked long and hard to get Quartet to come see the band. I brought Tomas Meir, the fucking CEO, to Seattle. Everything was perfect, then you spread your legs for him and suddenly it’s all about you.”

Bay stood, steadying herself on the table. “Get out of my apartment, Stu, or I’ll call the police. Whatever I do in my private life has noth—“

In a flash, he had her by the throat, ramming her up against her kitchen cabinets. Her head slammed back against a handle, but she didn’t feel the pain. The terror of his hand closing around her neck kept everything else at bay. He pushed his face against hers. She could smell liquor and cigarettes.

“Do not fuck this up for me, Bay, or by God, you’ll regret it.”

She met his gaze, now with anger as well as fear. “Get your hands off me, you fucking creep.”

It was over in a second. Smiling, he drove his fist into her stomach. It was quick, but the force of his blow made it feel like her stomach was exploding, taking her breath away. She cried out in agony, and as he let her go, she slumped to the floor, trying desperately to drag oxygen into her body. Every breath was agony. Gasping, she looked up at him. Stu smiled.

“That’s nothing to what I’ll do if you screw this up. Now, I expect you to concentrate on the band from now on. I don’t care if you have to suck Meir’s cock to do it, but get this band to the top of the charts. I’ve put in too much time to lose out now.”

After he left, she scampered to the door and double-locked it, sliding to the floor as harsh sobs racked her body. She could barely believe what had just happened. Her throat felt raw from Stu’s fingers and from her own hoarse cries.

Eventually, she managed to crawl to bed and curled up under the comforter. Everything in her body screamed at her to call Tomas, call the police, call anyone.

But there was no one. She had pushed Tom away, and why would the police believe her? They’d write her off as just another drunk.

She turned over in bed and looked at the photo of Ravi. His merry, dark eyes, the same shade of violet as hers, sparkled out of the photo, accented by his dark curls and dark honey skin. Bay shook her head, feeling the tears coming again. “Why did you leave me alone?” she whispered to her long dead brother.

But as always, of course, there was only silence.

 

There was an awkward atmosphere in the studio the next day. Bay and Kym didn’t look at each other and Pete tried in vain to get some flow to the work, but nothing was happening. Eventually, he grabbed them and made them look at each other.

“We have this amazing opportunity and you two are acting like …I’m going out for a half hour. When I get back, we’re going to make some freakin’ music or I’m done. Got it?”

For a few moments, they sat in silence, then Bay said, “I love it when Pete goes ham on us.”

Kym’s mouth twitched up at the corner and she met Bay’s gaze. They burst out laughing and Bay felt relief flooding through her. Kym threw herself at her friend and they embraced, hugging each other tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Bubba,” Kym mumbled into her hair, “I was such a bitch.”

“I’m sorry too. I knew I shouldn’t have done that record.”

Kym sat back and wiped her eyes. “That’s crap. It’s an amazing song. I’m sorry that I took what my mom said out on you.”

“She can be a douche.”

Kym laughed again. “I know, and I know she didn’t mean it. I know this because a very large check arrived two days after that interview.”

Bay shook her head. “One day she’ll realize that she has an amazing daughter and if she’d just spent a little more time—“

“Yeah,” Kym said sadly. “Maybe that will happen, but I won’t wait for that day.”

Bay looked down at her hands. “Tom and I are taking a break. I thought it best.”

“Oh, Bay …god …” Kym sat down next to her friend. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I’m really happy you’ve found someone.”

“That’s just it. I can’t, Kym. I can’t get involved with him. When we started, it was agreed—just sex. No strings. But—and it happened so fast--I got attached, and as soon as I did, I got scared. Scared of losing him. Scared of not being able to cope if I got more involved.”

“You fell for him?”

Bay nodded. “Hard. And I’m just not ready.”

“Ravi?”

“Yes. It’s been nearly two years and I can’t get past it. It chokes me, the fear of letting someone that close, then losing them.” Bay nudged Kym with her shoulder. “Of course, I’ve tried to get rid of you too, but you just keep hanging around.”

Kym grinned at her friend. “Like a bad smell.”

“Eww.”

“Sorry.”

Bay sighed. “Well, come on. Let’s just get something down. You got any ideas?”

“A ton. Been scribbling in this.” Kym held up a battered notebook. “Since I was sixteen.”

“And you didn’t show me?” Bay faked being hurt and Kym laughed.

“I do have some secrets.”

Bay looked at her friend, wanting to say the words—wanting to tell her about what Stu had done to her, but …Kym looked so exhausted, so worn down, that she couldn’t do it.

Pete saved her from making a decision. When he saw them hugging, he beamed.

“Nice save, boss.” Bay high-fived him as Kym picked up her guitar and smiled at them both.

“Let’s get things rockin.’”

 

This time, it was the three of them in Quartet’s boardroom, facing not just the four partners, but an invited audience of recording industry honchos and music press—and they were performing live. Even the normally stoic Pete was sweating. Bay thought she might throw up and Kym was a shade of green that had no name in the English language. Bay caught Tomas’s eye and smiled hesitantly. He grinned back, complete guilelessly, as if they hadn’t been avoiding each other for the past two months as The 9th & Pine worked on new material. They’d spoken a few times on the phone late at night when their conversations were loaded with unspoken yearning and I miss you’s.

Tom winked at her and gave a little nod, and suddenly Bay felt a new confidence. Rocky and Emily had come up to Seattle and they were huddled at the back of the room, waving and grinning.

Tom stood up to introduce the band. “Thanks for coming, everyone. It’s an exciting day for all of us, especially Quartet Records. We don’t get the opportunity enough in this business to really nurture raw talent, as it’s the norm now to harvest acts from Disney and Nickelodeon, or sweep up the rejects from reality shows. That’s why it’s such an incredible feeling when you see true, inherent talent just waiting for their shot. That’s what I felt when I saw The 9th & Pine for the first time. These three musicians—Kim Clayton on guitar, a second-generation rock star who decided to hone her craft rather than take advantage of the fact her parents are Charlie and Mac Clayton.” He nodded and smiled at Kym, who flushed with pleasure. “Pete Espinoza on drums—“ Tom turned to grin at Pete. “Sasquatch and skins man extraordinaire. And finally, Baijayanthi Tambe, pianist and owner of the finest vocals this side of Adele, and as of this morning—“ he paused and shared a grin with Rocky. “a platinum selling artist.”

Bay’s eyes widened as the room burst into applause. Kym grinned at her and Pete battered his drums. Tom held up his hands for quiet.

“So, enough from me. Ladies and gentlemen …The 9th & Pine.”

 

Tom motioned for the waitress and ordered more Cristal champagne. The V.I.P. area of the club was sweaty and hot as they celebrated the success of the showcase.

“They were blown away,” Tom told them now as they leaned in to hear him over the music. “We’ll start hearing stuff in the press now, really building up momentum, so now is the time where you need to start thinking about putting together eleven or twelve tracks for a record.”

“We’ll put out a couple of tester tracks soon,” Dash interjected. “So we don’t waste the effect of Bay’s single with Rocky. Tom tells me you and Rocky have discussed her appearing on the album?”

Bay nodded. “But only if Kym and Pete are okay with that.”

“We are,” Kym said as Pete nodded his ascent. They chatted some more with Dash, but Bay very aware of Tom sitting next to her, his big thigh against hers, and could think of little else but the warmth of his body heat, the way his eyes roamed over her body, and the rhythmic stroking of his hand on her back. She met his gaze, her chest tight, her belly quivering, and a frantic pulse beating between her legs. God, she had missed that face, that mouth on her body, and those eyes looking deep into hers. I want you so badly …

Tom smiled as if he could read her mind, then leaned in, his lips at her ear. “There’s an office upstairs—the manager’s a good friend of mine. Excuse yourself in two minutes and meet me there.”

He got up before she could answer and she followed his progress across the dancefloor. He didn’t look back. Her mouth hitched up at the corner. He was so sure. So confident.

And completely right. She got up—the others were still deep in conversation and no one paid her any attention. She slipped to the side of the club and up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, a huge bodyguard was blocking the way and she hesitated. He smiled down at her.

“Miss Tambe?”

She nodded and he stood aside to let her pass. “End of the corridor, ma’am.”

She thanked him, suddenly nervous. Had Tom planned all of this? She had a bemused grin on her face as she pushed the door to the office open and gasped. A multitude of candles flickered in the room, the overhead lights all shut off.

“Tom?”

She felt him behind her. “Don’t turn around.”

Her breath quickened, excitement mixing with wanton desire. Tom bent his head and kissed her bare shoulder, his fingers trailing around her waist. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough, Baijayanthi. Too damn long. Are you mine?”

The sensation of his lips on her skin and his hands on her body was intoxicating. “Yes,” she whispered, leaning into him, feeling his lips move to her neck and around to her throat, and feeling his fingers at the zipper of her dress, pulling it down.

He stripped her slowly, dropping her dress to the floor, and she felt his tongue trace a line down her spine. She shivered and he chuckled, a low, sensual sound. His teeth nipped at her earlobe as she heard him pull down his tie. A moment later, he wrapped the fabric around her eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded. He unclasped her bra, slid her panties off, and ran a fingertip from her throat down to her navel. “God, you’re beautiful.” She felt him part her legs with his hand and a second later his mouth was on her sex. Bay gasped as he lashed his tongue around her clit and the soft peach of her labia, biting down on the tender parts of her. She swayed, her breath hitching and shaking, and her fingers tangled in his dark hair.

He brought her to an almost unbearable climax and her body rocked, her limbs liquefying as it ripped through her. Tom caught her as her legs gave way and laid her gently onto the desk. He pushed the tie away from her eyes and kissed her deeply, his entire focus on her. The fact he was fully dressed while she was naked was thrilling to her in a way she never expected; to be totally at his mercy was without a doubt the most erotic experience she’d had.

Tom stroked her face, then stood. “Touch yourself, my darling. Stroke your beautiful body for me while I undress.”

Bay slipped a hand between her legs, felt how hot and swollen she was, and when Tom began to undress, slipping easily out of his suit and fisting the root of his already engorged cock as he approached her, she felt a warm rush of arousal and moaned. Tom grabbed his tie and tied her hands above her head, pushing her legs apart with his feet as the hot length of his cock lay against her belly.

“I want you,” she moaned, desperate to feel him inside her, but he smiled and shook his head.

“You kept me waiting, Bay …”

She groaned and writhed in anticipation, but he just laughed. He spent his time, kissing her entire body from her throat down, biting down on her nipples to the point of pain, and burying his face in her belly. His hand was on her sex, stroking and exciting her until she felt red raw with need. Only then did he slowly—too slowly—slide his hard, thick length into her.

“Oh god.” She shuddered as he filled her deep, to the root of his cock. So controlled, he slowly moved in and out of her until she screamed at him to please, please, fuck her harder …

Tom’s hips slammed against her with brutal strokes, driving into her with such great force she thought she might be thrown from the desk. Instead, his hands clamped on hers, keeping her steady as he drove into her. She came, shuddering and gasping, and when a second later he groaned, he pulled out and came on her belly, shooting thick streams of creamy, white cum on her skin.

They tumbled to the floor of the office and Bay straddled him, wanting more and more. Guiding his still-hard cock back inside of her, she rode him. He smiled up at her as she rode him, freeing her hands. His own hands were on her breasts, squeezing and plumping them, his big thumbs stroking a rhythm across her hard and sensitive nipples.

 

Finally, they collapsed to the floor, exhausted, sated, and happy. Tom propped himself up on his elbow and watched her as she caught her breath. He admired the way her belly undulated as she breathed, her breasts rising and falling, and the soft blush in her cheeks that cooled from hot scarlet to a rosy glow.

She grinned up at him. “You own this club, don’t you?”

Tom inclined his head. “Possibly.” He bent to kiss her. “God, I have missed you. Your face, your body, and the way you laugh.”

“Me too,” she said gently. “I’m sorry I pushed you away. I didn’t mean to. I panicked.”

“Why?”

She sighed. “Kym and I were going through a rough time—the first time our friendship was ever called into question. And there was the fact that I was falling for you. That scares me, Tom. I cannot tell you how much.”

Tom was quiet for a moment. “Is this something to do with your brother?”

She nodded. “He didn’t die in a car wreck, Tom. He deliberately drove his car into a wall. And I never saw it coming.”

“Jesus.” He gathered her into his arms, but she remained dry-eyed. “I was scared of ever feeling like I did that day again and I know how ridiculous and childish that sounds, but it is what it is.”

“Bay, I’m not going anywhere. And as for our ‘no strings’ thing, that was null and void for me the minute I kissed you. I just didn’t want to crowd you.”

She stroked his face. “You were so patient.”

“How long have you kept this all in?”

Bay shrugged. “I’m not anymore. Thanks to you, my darling Tomas.” She kissed him, then fell back again. “I’m exhausted.”

Tom drew the back of his hand down the length of her body. “What a shame …I had plans for you for the rest of the night.”

Bay considered and smiled as Tom moved his body on top of hers. “I’m sure I could stay awake for that …oh god, yes …. Yes …”

 

“Bumbershoot.”

Roman and Tom looked at each other and then back at Dash. “Huh?”

Dash grinned at his friends and partners. “Bumbershoot. The music festival. IT’s Seattle’s largest and it’s perfect. We can get the 9th on the bill, I’m sure. Yeah, they’ll be low down on the bill, but they’re already creating buzz. It’s the perfect debut.”

Roman pushed his uneaten eggs away from him. “You’re the marketing whiz,” he said. “When is it?”

Dash shot a look at Tom. “Three weeks.”

Tom laughed. “Oh, thanks for that. I bet you want me to tell the band?”

Dash grinned guiltily. “I would tell them, but that girl Kym scares me. And you’ve already got an …in, as it were.”

Roman chuckled as Tom sighed. “Nice.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

 

Kym got home from band rehearsal, buzzing. Bumbershoot! It had been her dream since she was a kid. She had never missed one, even insisting on going on her own when her parents had been on tour. Of course, as soon as she’d met Bay when they were twelve, it had become their thing—their annual escape from the hideousness of adolescence. They had spent days talking about it afterward, planning their band, wishing, dreaming, and writing songs.

And now they were on the playbill. She closed the door behind her, threw her jacket over a kitchen chair, and danced around the dark room. She didn’t see him sitting in the dim light until he spoke.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

She whirled around, clutching at her chest, painful adrenaline spiking through her veins.

“Jesus, Stu …how the hell did you get in?”

He didn’t answer her, but got up. Even across the dark kitchen, she could see the angry gleam in his eyes, the dilated pupils, and the sweat on his upper lip. He was high.

Kym backed away. “Stu?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed the words out through gritted teeth. “So I heard about the gig. Bumbershoot, eh? Funny how I was shut out of the conversation—again. How many times now, Kym?” He was advancing on her and, too late, she realized she had no way out. He was in her face. “It’s your fucking best friend again, isn’t it? That fucking bitch. I should have killed her when I had the chance.”

Kym froze. “What?”

Stu wiped his nose with his sleeve and grinned. “I could have broken her like that.” He clicked his fingers, “I still could …”

Kym felt abject terror flood through her. “Leave her alone.”

Stu smirked. “None of you are going to get away with this, least of all you. I thought you loved me.”

Suddenly Kym’s mind cleared. She faced her half-crazed boyfriend and saw nothing in him she recognized. “No one could love you, Stu. Not like this. You’re a mess.”

She didn’t have time to breathe before the first blow came.

The journalist from Rolling Stone was the same one who had interviewed Bay in San Francisco, so when Bay introduced her to Pete, the interview had already begun. As Pete told the interviewer, Lauren, about his story, Bay glanced at her watch. Kym was late, which wasn’t that unusual, but she knew how important this interview was—they were dropping their first single and video in the morning. She glanced at Dash, who was talking to the photographer; he didn’t seem to be bothered that the blonde guitarist was missing. When Lauren turned to her, Bay covered for her friend, telling her about how talented Kym was and how she wanted to make a name for herself without the legacy of her parents (Bay couldn’t help resist a little dig at Charlie and Mac and their lack of support for their daughter).

As the interview neared its end, she saw Tom come into the room and talk to Dash in a low tone. Whatever he had told the younger man, Dash’s face drained of color. Bay’s heart started to thump unpleasantly. Oh, no, please, not Kym …

They ended the interview without alerting Lauren that anything was wrong, but as soon as they were clear, Bay went to Tom.

“What? What is it?”

His eyes showed distress, but he kept his voice calm. “It’s Kym. She’s in the hospital.”

 

 

She was okay until she saw Kym, her face a bloody pulp of cuts and bruises, propped up in the hospital bed. Her arm was bandaged and she was obviously in great pain. Bay sat carefully on the edge of her bed, her entire body trembling.

“Hey girl.” She tried to smile at her friend and took her uninjured hands in hers.

Kym smiled, then winced. “Stupid beer, getting me all drunk. I tell you, those stairs to my apart—“

“Don’t.” Bay’s voice was low. Tom and Pete had waited outside the room to give her and Kym the chance to talk. Bay’s eyes filled with tears. “I know it was him.”

Kym looked away from her. “Bay, I can’t …I’m scared of what he’ll do.”

“Hey, listen to me. He won’t get the chance. You need to call the police and if you don’t, I will.”

“No. Not that, please, Bay.”

Bay shook her head, incredulous. “He could have killed you.”

Kym sighed. “I know, but he didn’t. Look, I just want to get well, get out of here, and do the show.” She tried to smile. “What else is make-up for?”

Bay looked out of the window at Tom and Pete. They were talking to a nurse. She turned and said, “He attacked me. A few weeks ago. His actual words were ‘Don’t fuck this up for me.’ So, if you want me to—“

“Bay, no.” Kym looked terrified. “He’ll kill both of us.” She was clinging on to Bay’s hand now and winced when she realized she was using her damaged arm. “I mean it. We neither of us have any proof, other than our word. I’m not saying do nothing, I’m just saying …let’s give Stu enough rope to hang himself. He’s doing more and more coke—he’ll crash and burn soon enough.”

Bay eased her hand free and leaned her head against Kym’s.

“Okay. For now, we’ll bide our time. But I will make him pay for what he’s done to you. I swear to God, I will.”

 

On the way home from the hospital, Tom looked at Bay. “Was it Stu?”

Bay nodded. “Scum bag. God, Tom, I could kill him.”

He took his hand from the wheel and took hers. “I already hired some people to look for him—no, not the police, don’t worry. I heard what Kym said. And we’ll invoke the penalty clause of his part of the contract. Don’t worry, he’ll no longer have anything to do with The 9th & Pine.”

She smiled gratefully at him, but then shifted in her seat. “I feel so antsy. Do you mind if I go to the studio for a couple of hours?”

“Not at all. I have some stuff to finish up at the office. Pick you up at nine.”

 

Stuart Lawson had been in a fleabag bar ever since the previous night. He vaguely remembered seeing Kym, getting angry, and maybe slapping her. Shit. He’d have a serious bitching out coming his way. He almost toppled off the bar stool and staggered to the restrooms, not caring if anyone saw the small bag of cocaine he pulled from his pocket. He tapped out a line and snorted. Nothing. It was getting harder and harder to get a buzz from the drug.

His phone rang. His eyebrows shot up when he saw it was Bay calling. He pressed accept, smirking.

“What do you want?”

“We’re having a meeting. I assumed you’d wanted to be told.”

Stu sniffed and wiped his nose. A thin trail of blood snaked across his hand, but he ignored it. “What’s the meeting about?”

Bay sighed. “Do you want to come or not? If not, we’ll carry on without you.”

Stu pushed out of the restroom and headed for the door. “Why isn’t Kym calling me?”

He didn’t catch the slight hesitation. “She’s in the can. Look, Stu, should we wait?”

“Where are you?”

“The studio.”

Stu smiled. “I’m three blocks away.”

Tomas put down the phone, frustrated. Whatever rock Stu had crawled under, it was a well-hidden one. He didn’t like this—not knowing where that creep was. He also suspected Bay was keeping something from him, something about the attack on Kym, but he couldn’t think what it might be.

Roman knocked. “Hey, how’s it going? How’s Kym?”

Tom filled him in and Roman blew out his cheeks. “I knew that dude was dirty. What do you want us to do?”

“Get the lawyers to draw up a new contract for the band and get Dash to find a new manager or agent. Make sure Lawson doesn’t see a penny. Shouldn’t be too hard if the band hasn’t made any money yet.”

Roman smiled. “Then we’d better get that done tonight – the single will drop in the morning and there’s already huge buzz on the net.”

When Roman had gone, Tom glanced at the clock. It was too early to go pick up Bay but he was antsy just sitting there. The hell with it, he’d hang out with techs if she was busy. He picked up his jacket and left the office.

 

Stu pushed into the studio to find Bay waiting for him. She stood there, still and watchful. Stu glanced around. “Where’d everyone go? I thought I told you to wait.”

She gave him a chilly smile. “They were never here, Stuart. It’s just me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Yes. Stu, you’re fired. So very, very fired.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

She moved so that she was in front of him. “You put Kym in the hospital. And I know it wasn’t the first time it’s happened—the first time you’ve beaten her. This time, though, you weren’t careful, were you? You didn’t hit her where it was easy to hide.” Bay’s rage was so calm and yet so white-hot. She could tell Stu took her seriously. He was silent and she could see his dumb-ass brain working, putting together everything. How messed up was he?

“Kym’s in the hospital. So why aren’t the police here? Huh?”

Bay’s voice was steady, calm, and quiet. “Because Kym decided to protect your sorry ass one last time and I want to respect her wishes. But you are fired and if I ever see you in Seattle again, Stu, I will call the police. I will have your ass in jail so fast you won’t know what hit you. Do you understand me?”

Stu laughed, mocking her and trying to save face. “As soon as you give me my check, sweetheart, you got it.”

“No check. No money. Nothing. Just your freedom.”

He stopped smiling. “You can’t do that.”

Bay smiled, a wide grin that split her whole face. “There are definitely some perks to sucking the boss’ cock. You don’t get a penny, asshole.”

“You fucking whore!” Stu launched himself at her, throwing her to the floor and clamping his hands around her throat, squeezing and choking her. Bay fought back, jamming her fingers into his eyes and kicking out. She caught him with her foot in his groin and immediately he rocked back, groaning. Bay scrambled up, went for the door, and almost made it. Stu, roaring his anger, picked her up, and threw her through the glass partition between the studio and the mixing room, smashing the glass. Bay landed heavily on the mixing desk and rolled off, completely winded, her body screaming in pain. Stu, incensed, followed her through the shattered window and grabbed her hair, pulling her back against him. Bay swiped at him with a shard of broken glass, but he grabbed her arm and twisted until she dropped it. Stu smashed her across the head with a heavy-bottomed ashtray and Bay, stunned but still awake, crumpled to the floor. Stu straddled her, clamping her arms above her head with one big hand. He grabbed the shard of glass she had dropped and drew his arm back to drive it into her stomach.

 

Tom dragged him off of Bay with a roar, punching the shocked Stu into unconsciousness. Bay scrambled away from them, backing up until she was leaning against the door, breathing hard and shell-shocked by the speed of the attack. Tom finally let Stu drop and went to her. She was covered in blood, but a quick check told him that she had no major injuries. She told him what had happened and Tom looked appalled, pulling her into his arms.

“God, you insane girl. What were you thinking?”

“Insurance,” Bay said breathlessly. “A way to get rid of him for good.”

Tom stared at her in alarm. “Please tell me you weren’t going to kill him. Bay, he’s twice your size. You’d be dead now if …Jesus.”

“No.” She made him look at her, then pointed upwards, around the room. Cameras, seven of them, were stationed around the room, recording everything that happened in the studio

“In case a band decides to trash the place.” She grinned at him. “Which I suppose I did.”

He started to laugh, then, and kissed her. “I’d call you a genius, but you could have told me, Bay.”

“I won’t hide anything from you again,” she promised. He helped her to her feet and she went over to Stu, nudging him with her toe. He moaned. “Jack off,” she said. “What do you say we take out the trash?”

 

Stu Lawson woke up four hours later, a stray dog licking his face. He sat up, realizing he was on a landfill site, trash everywhere. To his jacket was pinned a note. Guess who’s got it all on camera, asshole? Leave Seattle or the film goes to the police.

The stray dog turned and lifted his leg to pee on him.

 

 

Bumbershoot. A crowd seething with anticipation. Bay wished she hadn’t looked to see how many people had turned up to see them. Seattle Center was full to capacity.

Their single had now been steadily climbing the Billboard chart. “Fire for You” was the song America was talking about; The 9th & Pine, the biggest new band on social media. They had arrived.

She slunk back to the dressing room and made a face at Tom, who laughed.

“Everyone ready?” He looked down at Bay, who gazed up at him, a small smile playing on her lips.

Tomas looked at Pete and Kym, who exchanged barely-concealed grins. “Guys …can we have the room for a minute?”

Bay was crimson, but her smile was sweet as her friends left the room, pulling the door closed behind them.

Tom pulled her gently to him and smiled down at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head and stayed silent, gazing up at him, her eyes soft. She smoothed some hair over his ear gently. He bent his head and brushed her lips with his hesitantly, but she leaned into the kiss, her fingers sliding into his hair. She stood on the tips of her toes to reach his mouth. His hands slid around her waist, tightening his hold on her. His lips moved against hers, caressing, his tongue exploring hers.

“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth. He felt a wetness on her cheeks and tears dropped from her eyes as she smiled back at him. God, she was so beautiful.

“I love you too.” He groaned at her words, pulling her tightly against his chest. God, he wanted to tear off her clothes and kiss every part of her glorious honey skin. He had to break away now or she’d never get on stage.

She smiled at him and stroked his face. “Later.”

“So many laters.”

“You bet your sweet ass, Meir.”

God, just that promise, that certainty in her voice.

“Go knock ‘em dead, beautiful.”

He followed her out and stood on the side of the stage, listening to the M.C. announced them and hearing the swell and roar of the crowd as the three of them made their entrance.

This, this was the moment he lived for—a talent being celebrated and appreciated.

Only this time, it was different. This time, it was more.

Because the love of his life was taking her first bow …

Quartet #2

Burn for You

 

 

Emily Moore was woken by her eight-year-old nephew, Henry, tapping her shoulder. She opened her eyes and mock-glared at him in the way that always made him laugh.

Not today, though. His hands were twisting in his pajama top, his face tense. Emily sat up, pushing her long, blonde hair out her face.

“What is it, punkin?”

Henry, his hair sticking up in clumps, handed the phone to her. “Mommy’s on the phone.”

Oh damn. Emily tugged the boy onto the bed and hugged him. “It’s okay, champ.” She kissed the top of his head and sighing, spoke into the phone. “Paige?”

“Hey, cutie, how’s things?”

Emily rolled her shoulders, tension making them hurt. “We’re good. Nice of you to call.”

Unfazed by her sister’s sarcasm, Paige laughed. “Hey, you know what it’s like on the road.”

“Not really.”

“How’s Henry?”

“Why didn’t you ask him yourself?”

Paige finally caught onto her sister’s mood. “Look, Emily, I know. I know it’s been hard for you, but—“

“Hang on.” Emily pulled the phone away from her ear and smiled down at the boy sitting beside her. “Go get a shower, pal. Give me a few minutes.”

Henry knew the drill. Auntie wanted grown-up time. Emily watched him leave and gently closed her bedroom door. She sucked in a frustrated breath.

“I’m back.”

“I was saying that I know I left Henry in your care for a while, but—“

“Four years, Paige. Half his lifetime. It was meant to be for three weeks while you went on tour. Four years.” Emily’s voice was brittle with anger.

When she was growing up in suburban San Francisco, her older sister had been her idol. Paige Moore had been the biggest rock star in the world for a heady three-year period in the mid-2000s, and even now sold out stadiums in every major city. This latest tour had been rolling around the globe now for the last four years—which would have been cool if it weren’t for Henry. Paige had fallen pregnant after a one-night stand with a groupie—Emily suspected on purpose—and when the guy had refused to have anything to do the kid, Paige had seemed relieved. When Henry was born, Paige had fallen in love in a way that Emily had never seen. Paige had millions in the bank, a much-loved child, and a restless heart. After being a stay-at-home mom, she got antsy. Emily, just out of Stamford law school and already building her reputation as one of the best agents in the business, was in no position to take on a child, but she could see Paige starting to resent her child for taking away her freedom and her dream. That’s when she’d told Paige to take a few weeks, tour, and get it out of her system. Emily had blinked and it was four years later. Paige had missed Henry’s first day at school, the first time he’d read a book on his own, and the first time he’d won a science prize.

Emily loved Henry with all her heart, but couldn’t help the anger that she felt on his behalf. Paige could paint it how she wanted—she’d abandoned her child. Emily rubbed her hand across her face now as her sister spoke.

“Look, Ems, that’s why I’m calling.”

Emily sighed. “Look, if you need more time, it’s okay. It really is. Henry loves his school, he has friends, and he likes the teachers. We do okay here. All I ask is that you call him more often, maybe every couple of days, and come see him at least once a month.”

“If you’ll let me finish,” her sister was clearly getting agitated too, “that’s what I’m trying to tell you, Ems. I will see him more—much more. The tour is ending. I’m done. I want Henry back.”

 

Tom drove Dash to SeaTac airport, going over and over what he wanted Dash to achieve. Dash listened patiently.

“Bay was very particular about who we pick to be the band’s manager. She’s already cleared it with Rocky, so all you have to do is get Emily Moore on board. She’s the only one Bay trusts.”

Dash grinned at his friend and partner. “Did you think I forgot all of that in the last five minutes?”

Tom inclined his head, smiling good–naturedly. “I know you got this. It’s just that sometimes …”

“Eager Puppy?” Dash knew the nickname his older partners had given him, due to Dash’s habit of throwing himself headlong into situations without much thought. Dash knew he deserved the ribbing he got. Tom, Otis, and especially Roman, had all bailed him out on one occasion or another.

Tom grinned. “Eager puppy. Look, it’s important to Bay, to the band, and to all of us. Since Stu Lawson thankfully made himself scarce—“

“You never told me what happened there. Why did he leave? I know there was something about him assaulting Kym, but Kym has never said anything.”

Tom was quiet for a moment, his smile gone. “Bay fired him, because he did beat Kym and he attacked her. He tried to kill Bay. I got there just in time.” Tom’s voice was low and full of pain. Dash looked at him sympathetically. Tomas Meir had fallen hard for the petite, brunette singer of The 9th & Pine. Bay Tambe was beautiful, smart, fiery, and so talented that it hurt, and Dash liked her very much, as he did the rest of the band—Kym and Pete. Bay and Tom had fallen in love quickly and passionately, and now Dash wanted to make sure he didn’t let them down.

On the plane, he had a chance to check his emails and do some research into the woman he was meeting. Emily Moore was the entertainment agent of the moment. Her client, Rocky Apsilom, had conquered the music world effortlessly, thanks to Emily’s guidance, and now everyone was clamoring for a piece of the hotshot young lawyer.

In San Francisco, Dash took a cab to her office, smiling at the receptionist who told him to take a seat. Dash looked around the office, which mainly featured vintage music pictures. One stood out—the cover art for Rocky Apsilom’s last smash hit. Dash went to look at it, noting with a smile the subtitle: “Featuring Bay Tambe of The 9th & Pine.” It had been the band’s introduction to the music world. Their singer’s soaring vocals, that heavenly voice weaving in and out of Rocky’s feminist raps, had stunned everyone.

“Mr. Harrison?”

He turned to see Emily Moore, unsmiling, holding her hand out to him. He took it. “Dash, please.” He flashed her one of his most charming smiles. but she simply turned on her heel and led him into her office.

“As I said on the phone, I haven’t long.”

Ok. Hard-ass. Dash kept the smile on his face. “First things …” he sat without being asked and crossed one leg over the other, his relaxed pose incongruous in the tense woman’s presence. “Bay Tambe sends her regards.”

Emily Moore’s face softened. “How is she?”

“Manager-less,” Dash went on, trying to capitalize on the shift in mood. “Which is why I’m here. I see you as the one to take The 9th & Pine to the next level. You’ll obviously work for me, but together, we can come up with a PR strategy that can make them the biggest act in the world.”

He smiled as he finished speaking and waited for her reply. After a few seconds of silence, he finally took notice of the expression on Emily Moore’s face. Irritation.

“Do you use that cookie cutter speech on everyone you hope to work with, Mr. Hamilton?” Her voice was pure ice. “Because I can tell you right now it won’t work on me. Who do you think you are, coming to my office and telling me what to do? Try asking the question, Mr. Harrison, and saying please. Try testing the waters to see if I’m interested or have the time to manage one of your bands—even if I do know and admire one of their number.”

Dash rocked back, his eyes alarmed. Emily Moore might be smart and talented, but she was clearly not a push-over. “Look, I’m sorry …”

“Whose name do you see on the door, Mr. Harrison? Yours? I don’t work for anybody. I work with people who I like and trust. Do you think I was asking what you wanted when I inquired after my friend Bay?”

Dash held up his hands. “Woah, woah, woah …I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to upset you. Please, can we start over?” His whole body had released the practiced posture of his usual sales pitch and he was leaning forward, toward her. He noticed the dark green eyes, flecked with amber, and the red mouth, drawn in a thin line now, but he could imagine it curving into a wide smile. Her long, blonde hair had a wave that made it curl around her shoulders. Through her window came a cool Frisco breeze, rolling in from the Bay, ruffling her hair, and making her perfume drift across to him.

He became aware that he was staring and coughed awkwardly. Two spots of pink had appeared on her high cheek bones. Emily Moore looked away from his gaze.

“Tell Bay I’m sorry and that I’ll call her, please.”

Okay, this was not good. “Emily, please …”

“You can go now, Mr. Harrison.”

In disbelief, Dash got up and moved to the door. He stopped and turned, but seeing her staring determinedly at her computer, he just shook his head.

In less than a minute, the receptionist had deposited him back out onto the sidewalk. Dash could barely believe what had just happened. He’d screwed it up.

“Well, “he said out loud, startling an elderly woman. “Damn …”

He glanced back up at the window of Emily Moore’s office. Despite everything that had just happened, he knew he’d be haunted by those eyes.

“Damn,” he said again and reluctantly hailed a cab.

 

Number one, she thought, don’t take out your bad mood on a partner of the hottest recording company in America. Number two, stop thinking about that partner. Three …oh fuck.

“Maura?”

Emily’s assistant stuck her head in the door. “I think he considers himself lucky to have gotten out of here alive. Poor little puppy,” she said, grinning, “I think you made him cry.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “What’s the matter with me?”

“Terminal grumpiness.”

“I wasn’t actually asking.” But Emily grinned. “God, I know I was mean, but what a poseur.”

Maura, her black eyes dancing, flopped into the chair opposite her boss. “Cute, though.”

“Douche bag.”

“Handsome, filthy rich douche bag. If you like that thing.”

Emily sighed, shaking her head at her friend. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Who says the douchebag is for you?” Maura, a feisty, Mexican single mother in her early forties, loved only one thing above male company—and that was her kids. And Emily. And food. Okay, three things. Emily smiled at her. When she’d started her company, she could only afford to employ one assistant, part-time. Maura had walked in, cracked a joke, and that was that. She helped Emily set up the company, worked long hours for very little pay, and became the mother Emily had never had. Mother and best friend. Now that the company was successful, Emily made sure Maura was paid back in every way for her loyalty and kindness.

“And anyway, when was the last time you actually spent an evening with Isaiah? That poor man. You neglect him.”

Emily grimaced. “I know, but what with Henry …”

“How many times have I offered to babysit?”

Emily said nothing for a moment. “Paige called. She’s coming home and she wants Henry back.”

The smile vanished from Maura’s face. “God. Really?”

Emily nodded. “I hung up on her, I was so angry. God, Maura, why now? She left him. For four years.” She suddenly felt tears in her eyes. Maura got up and came around the desk to hug her.

“I don’t know what to tell you, cielito, but I know you have been more of a mother to that boy than she has. He belongs with you.”

Later, when she was alone, Emily bit back the frantic need she had to call Henry at school. The kids weren’t allowed to use their cell phones during school periods and she didn’t want to get him in trouble or have the other kids make fun of him. She couldn’t get the thought of him being taken away from her now. When she’d agreed to take him on for those initial three weeks, she had already decided, even at that young age, that children weren’t in her plan. But gradually, over the four years during which she’d seen him grow into a quiet, studious, kind boy, she’d found more in common with her sister’s child than she ever had with her sister. Even when he was very young, she could talk to him about things as if he were a young adult—sheltering him from the horrors, of course, but never lying to him about anything. She learned by trial and error what he was ready for. They were a team, she and her young nephew, and the thought of him going back to her unreliable sister made her panicky.

She dragged her thoughts back to Dash Hamilton. The last time a man had tried to order her around, she’d told him exactly where to go and a lot less politely than she’d told Hamilton the same thing. It was in college and it was her co-worker in a small wine bar. Her male co-worker hadn’t done it again.

Dash annoyed her in particular because, despite his arrogant manner, when he’d walked into the room, she’d taken in his height—tall but not too tall for her five-foot-nothing—his wavy, mid-brown hair that fell in waves to his shoulder, the neatly trimmed stubble, and cornflower blue eyes and thought …yum. She vaguely remembered meeting him at The 9th & Pine’s showcase a few weeks back, but she was there to support Bay and didn’t speak to him. Also, she was almost certain he hadn’t been quite so handsome then.

Mind out of the gutter, she told herself. The memory reminded her of Bay, though, and she felt guilty that her friend would be disappointed. She found Bay’s number and called it. Voicemail. She was probably in the studio—the album would be launched soon and she already knew what a perfectionist Bay was.

Making her mind up to call her later, Emily went back to work, pushing all thoughts of her sister, and Henry, and definitely Dash Hamilton to the back of her mind.

 

Bay wasn’t in the studio. She was lying naked in Tomas Meir’s bed, asleep. Well, half asleep. Just at that moment, she heard him come into the bedroom, then felt his cool lips press against the small of her back. She moaned happily as they trailed up her spine, then they were at her ear.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you are today, Miss Tambe?”

Bay rolled over onto her back and smiled up at him. Tomas, his admiration of her body obvious, kissed her mouth. “Hello, sexy.” His lips found hers briefly, then moved down to her nipples, making her moan again.

“You’re overdressed,” she grumbled, and he pulled his jacket off and stripped quickly as she watched him.

“How was your all-night session?” He slid into bed beside her and pulled her on top of him. She could already feel his cock hardening, hot and long against her belly. She tangled her fingers in her hair and nipped at his chin with her teeth.

“Really productive. I do feel bad that Kym and Pete had to go to work this morning and I got to come here.” She gestured around the bedroom of Tom’s luxury houseboat. She’d helped him find the property on Lake Washington and now she spent most nights here. Tomas had insisted.

“With Stu still out there, I want you safe.” She’d had no argument to that.

Tom rolled her onto her back, tugging her legs around his hips, and teasing her nipples with his tongue. “I’ve been thinking you should just move in permanently. Bring all your stuff here. What do you think?”

Bay kissed him, moaning softly as he began to stroke her clit. “I think …oh god …I think that would be a fine idea …Jesus, yes there, don’t stop …” She dug her nails into his buttocks and ground her sex against his cock. “But I pay half the rent.”

Tom pressed her legs apart with his knee and slid deep inside her. Bay felt her body respond, her wrists and ankles weaken, and her sex swell and dampen as he moved in and out of her. Tom smiled, knowing the effect he was having on her. “Really, you want to pay half the rent? Baby, do you know what the rent is on this place?” He thrust hard, just once, as if to make his point.

Bay, gasping and panting, shook her head. When Tom told her, her eyes widened.

“Okay, well how about I rent a room?”

They both laughed, but then Tom began to find his rhythm and talking became impossible.

Afterward, they showered together and were trying to figure out what to eat for supper when Dash arrived. From the look on his face, he didn’t have good news.

Bay grimaced and told them she was ordering pizza and they should grab some beers. While they waited for the food to arrive, Dash filled them in.

“I could have asked more politely, I suppose, but she just went off on me. You could have warned me she’s a badass.”

Disappointed as she was, Bay grinned at the image of the cocky Dash being schooled by Emily. Dash narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you laughing at me?”

Bay nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

Tom sighed. “Okay, kids, enough. Dash …you need to make this happen. You need to put this right. Emily Moore is who we have chosen to manage the band.”

Dash nodded, contrite. “I know, I know. I dropped the ball. Maybe it would help if Bay came with me?”

Bay opened her mouth, but Tom put a warning hand on her leg. “Dash, no. This is your mess. You clean it up.”

 

Later, after Dash had left, promising faithfully to get Emily on board, Tom poured them both some wine and they sat out on the deck together, Bay leaning back against him, curled inside his long legs, her head on his chest. Night had fallen and the lights of all the lakeside properties and the other houseboats glinted off the water. Tom wrapped his arms around Bay and pressed his lips to her temple. “I love you, Miss Tambe.”

She smiled up at him. “Right back at you, handsome.” She pressed her lips to his. “I’ve never been this happy in my life.”

Tom brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “Really?”

She frowned. “Of course. Why?”

Tom sighed, but kissed her lightly. “I’ve been worried. Since the attack. Since Stu. You seem a little …too okay. Like you don’t want anyone to see that it’s affected you. That we’ll—I’ll—think less of you if you display any upset or shock or …”

Bay had looked away from him, her eyes filling with tears. “I’m not shutting you out, I promise. I just want to stop feeling afraid every time I’m alone, or outside the house or the studio. It makes me angry that I’m letting him win.”

“What he did to you …you know I will never let that happen again, right? I don’t care if we have to hire a detective to follow him for the rest of his life. He won’t get near you.”

Bay nodded. “I do know that. It’s kind of why I’m annoyed. I’m angry with myself for even thinking about that bastard.”

His arms tightened around her. “Don’t be. You have every right to be angry, just not at yourself.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Of course.” He trailed his lips across her shoulder. “Are you mad at Dash?”

“Not really. I’m just disappointed. Maybe I should call Emily myself.”

Tom shook his head. “Not yet. I want to see if Dash can do this. It’s probably good that Emily gave him a hard time. He needs the challenge.”

 

Emily watched as Henry pushed his food around his plate and didn’t eat much of it. He’d been quiet since she’d picked him up from the after-school club, giving her short answers and staring out of the window of the car as they drove home. He read his book on the couch as she prepared supper, silent and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

She’d made him mac and cheese from the box to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work.

Sup, dude?” he smiled at him, “Not hungry?”

Henry shook his head and put down his fork. “Aunt Em?”

“Yes?”

“What did Mommy want?”

Emily hesitated for a moment. “She’s coming home, buddy. From tour. It’s finally over.”

“Will she be living here?”

Hell, no. “I don’t think so. She’s got her own home, remember? On the hill?”

Henry looked away and she rubbed his shoulder. “Is something worrying you, Henry? Because you know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s just …she says she’s coming home, then she stays for a few days and is gone again. I can’t remember what it was like to live with her all the time.”

Emily’s chest hurt. “Henry, you know if she does what she says and comes home, that doesn’t mean you have to live with her. Do you want to live with her?”

Henry shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “I don’t know.”

Ouch. “Well, that’s not something you have to worry about yet. If you’re finished, you can get down from the table. Have you got any homework?”

He shook his head. “Not tonight.”

Emily reflected that she always believed him when he told her that. He’d probably done it in his free time at school. He was such a little nerd—so like her at his age—always buried in his books, especially the ones to do with space. Astro-nerd, she thought fondly. “Well, go wash up, then. Want to watch a movie?”

He shook his head, thanked her, and slid from his chair, disappearing into his room. Another way he was like her—he was a solitary creature. Emily washed the dishes and then checked her emails. Her phone buzzed. Isaiah’s handsome face flashed on her screen, but, feeling guilty, she let the call go to voicemail.

Emily had been seeing Isaiah Chesnutt for little over a year. Casual was how she would term their relationship. Isaiah, a tall African-American, elegant, intelligent, and funny-as-hell, had been in agreement with her that he too wasn’t ready for a serious relationship and had never pressured her, but lately, she’d been coming up with far too many excuses not see him: meetings, parent/guardian-teacher conferences, exhaustion. She wondered now to herself if she should cut him loose. He was far too great a catch to be wasting his time with someone as distant as herself.

Emily noticed she had a text that she’d missed, but groaned when she saw who it was from. Sheer curiosity made her open Dash Hamilton’s message.