Iris Silverman couldn’t believe this was her life.

When Heidi told her that Seger and Dylan were going with their dad for a majority of the summer, she’d immediately begun to wonder what she was going to do with herself for a couple of months. Heidi had quickly answered that question for her. I want you to go with them.

Iris’s head had nearly spun off her shoulders. But not in excitement. In absolute dizzying terror.

Heidi and Elijah Vance had been divorced for three years, and Iris had come on board in Heidi’s employ after the animosity between them had cooled somewhat. She hadn’t been around Eli that much. He spent most of his time in the studio; Heidi complained often and loudly about how much of a workaholic he had always been, even now. When he wasn’t behind a soundboard or in the vocal booth, he was on tour. He didn’t see the boys nearly often enough, Heidi said, but now that he was making an effort, she wasn’t happy with the way he was going about it.

When they were married, they’d often toured with the kids. But now that those days were over, Heidi was beside herself at the thought of not being around. She hadn’t liked some of the things she’d seen on the road, and she feared Eli wouldn’t be attentive enough or protective enough. Iris didn’t know him, so she had no opinion on that matter. Yet. But he seemed to be adequately perturbed at his ex-wife’s assumption.

Heidi really was a more caring mother than anyone gave her credit for. Even, Iris thought, Elijah himself. But she tended to second-guess her instincts a lot, and she relished her freedom. Maybe a little too much at times.

Iris watched Elijah Vance shut the study door, crossing her arms at the sudden burst of chill bumps that skittered down them. The man had a presence, an innate charisma, and she’d never been alone with him. She swore she would know he was something special even if she’d never met him before. And she wasn’t even a fan of his music—his growling rock was too loud and heavy for her tastes. But she could definitely see his appeal. The long hair, the sultry lips framed with dark scruff. Those piercing, almost otherworldly green eyes.

And dear God, he had caught her listening in on their conversation upstairs. Her cheeks flamed to think of it, and she resisted the urge to reach up and try to rub away the warmth.

“I know what you were doing,” he said, nailing her with the full force of his eyes. They made a lighter, startling contrast to his jet-black hair and, as he walked closer, she noticed the green was more vivid and springlike just around his pupils. Seger definitely had his dad’s eyes. Dylan, except for his dark hair, looked more like Heidi.

Iris cleared her throat and shifted her weight, dropping her gaze to the floor a few inches in front of Elijah’s stylishly weathered black books. There was really no use denying it, so she didn’t. “I’m sorry.”

“What did you hope to hear in there?”

“I . . .” What had she hoped to hear? She didn’t even know. It had been completely out of line and unprofessional, and she’d deserved for him to tell on her. But he hadn’t. “I’m nervous about this whole thing, if you want to know the truth. I guess I was kind of hoping you would . . . shoot it down?” And he’d damn sure tried to, so at least they were on the same page there.

“Believe me, if I had my way, you wouldn’t be anywhere near me.”

Her brow furrowed at the rudeness of his tone. She’d done wrong, sure, and maybe she deserved that too, but she didn’t like it nonetheless. And she could give as good as she got. She shot a glare at him, aware she was walking on thin ice, but it was Heidi who signed her paychecks, not Eli. “Believe me, the feeling is mutual.”

Then again, she thought as his expression turned thunderous, who paid Heidi? This man here. Heidi had been in a few TV shows several years back, hot enough to snag a rich, famous husband. Now that her marriage was over, she was more like a professional celebrity girlfriend. “Then I suggest you tell your boss to nix this idea. It’s ludicrous.”

“That’s not my place, sir. She tells me what to do and I do it. It’s my job to look out for those boys, and as much as I don’t like this idea, I intend to do it as part of my job.”

“I can look out for my own goddamn sons.”

“No one is saying you can’t.”

He began to pace, barely leashed savagery in every step. In the few clips she’d seen of him onstage, he’d stalked that space the same way. “I know what she’s doing. She’s looking for ammunition. If she had her way, I’d never—”

“Excuse me, but I don’t think this is appropriate.”

His eyes flashed angrily at her, the green on fire. “Isn’t it? She’s sending you along to be her spy.”

Iris stepped back in astonishment. “Her spy?”

“Yeah. And looks like you’ve already started, though you kind of suck at your job so far.” He gestured toward the ceiling, indicating what had just happened upstairs.

“I know that was highly inappropriate, and I apologize. I can assure you it won’t happen again. But to spy on you . . . no, nothing at all was said about that.”

Hopefully he wasn’t a human lie detector.

You let me know if anything shady goes down, Iris. Promise me. I want to know what he does, where he goes . . .  The list had gone on. Who he fucks had been in there too. And while Iris had reluctantly given her assent, she’d wondered if she would be able to go through with it. Who the man slept with was his business, right? She was only the nanny. As long as his behavior wasn’t having a negative effect on the kids, why did Heidi need to know about it?

If he kept pissing her off, though . . .

And if he kept looking at her that way . . .

Iris licked her lips and longed for escape from this uncomfortable exchange. Was this what the next few weeks would be like? Dealing with his accusations, his hostility? “I promise, you don’t have anything to worry about. This is your time with your kids and I’m not looking to infringe on that. I just want to help. That’s why I’m here. And it’ll make Heidi feel better.”

“So she says. More like it’ll give Heidi time to run off with her boyfriend and drive the paparazzi crazy.” He seemed bitter about that. Iris wondered if there were still feelings there. She sometimes wondered if the reverse were also true, despite the nearly constant presence of Heidi’s longtime boyfriend. It was sad when a couple who obviously cared about each other couldn’t make it work. She didn’t think Eli had seriously dated since the divorce. At least, Heidi had never mentioned it, and Heidi would’ve definitely mentioned it.

It wasn’t Iris’s place to get in the middle of things. But whatever else she was, Heidi had been good to her. Maybe Iris’s side job on this tour was getting him to see that the mother of his children wasn’t such a bad person. High-maintenance, maybe. Selfish at times, okay. But who was perfect? No one. Certainly not him, certainly not Iris.

Then again, Iris only worked for Heidi; she’d never had to be married to the woman. None of this is my business. Only the kids. Only they are my business. But only good could come of creating a stable atmosphere for those boys.

“Her only motive that I’m aware of is to make sure Seger and Dylan are okay, Mr. Vance.”

“Cut the ‘Mr. Vance’ shit.”

Mr. Jackass. How about that? “Okay.”

“When I’m with my kids, I got it. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear you. I don’t need fucking supervised visits. That was never a part of our divorce agreement.”

“Understood. But—”

“Understand this. If Heidi’s so fucking worried about what I’m doing, she can come herdamnself. Not that there’s a fat chance in fuck of that happening, but your being there and on her payroll is the next worst thing.”

“I’m not your enemy. I’m not trying to be.”

“You’re damn sure not my friend.”

Iris swallowed past the nervous lump in her throat. She couldn’t say she’d ever been shut into a room with an angry, ranting rock star before. And she didn’t have to be. This was her boss’s house. It wasn’t his. Not anymore. But she had to find some way to get along with this man for the next two months. She wasn’t sure she knew how to do it. Her specialty was kids, not their jerkwad parents. “Okay, well, I think this conversation is over. We obviously aren’t going to reach an agreement on things today.”

“That’s probably the only thing we agree on.” He turned for the door and snatched it open, strode out into the foyer. Iris practically ran after him, feeling she could breathe again for the first time since he’d shut them into the dark-paneled room. No sooner had she crossed the threshold than the front door opened, and Heidi’s boyfriend strolled in as if he owned the place. The two men came practically face-to-face.

Oh . . . fudge.

After years in the business, Nicolas Steele was Hollywood’s darling up-and-comer. Iris could scarcely believe she was, at this moment, standing in a room with two very famous men. Two men who might come to blows if the animosity building between them reached a boiling point. Iris could practically cut the tension with a knife, but just as she was about to flee upstairs for Heidi’s intervention, Eli broke eye contact with the shorter man, drew a deep breath, and turned for the living room. “Boys.” His voice sounded strained. “Go get your stuff.”

Nic glanced at Iris and gave her a wink, as if to say it was all good. She smiled at him and bolted for the front door. Get me the heck out of here.

Her silver SUV sat in the wide circular driveway, and she all but sprinted to it, escaping into the silent sanctuary. It was one of her favorite places to be, in her car, and she didn’t care if that was a little weird. Sometimes, she just liked to drive. Far. Away from everything. She would go around the country if she could, sightseeing. And then it occurred to her that she was getting that chance in a way, even if she wasn’t the one behind the wheel. She would definitely miss her vehicle.

People around all the time. Elijah Vance around all the time. God, could she do this?

As she was thinking it, he walked out of the house with his kids, laughing. Dylan had jumped onto his back, arms wrapped around his neck, giggling wildly as he got a piggyback ride. Seger sauntered along behind them with that exasperated eleven-year-old distaste. For the first time since she’d laid eyes on him today, Eli looked happy, carefree, and the transformation was a miraculous one. She would never have thought this was the same man she’d faced in that study barely five minutes ago, all thunder gone from his expression. And he was damn good-looking when he smiled that way, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, dimples digging boyishly into his cheeks.

Iris sucked in a breath and cast her eyes down to her lap, lest he spot her and think she was spying again. She fished her phone out of her bag and sat staring blindly at it until she heard the muffled sounds of him and the boys getting into his ‘67 Mustang Fastback: voices fading, doors slamming. She watched the matte black car—one of many mint condition classics Iris knew he owned, this one murdered out—purr its way around the circle and finally disappear down the driveway.

She almost wanted to follow, to get a firsthand peek at how he really was with the kids, far away from the stresses of his ex-wife and her lover, but that wasn’t a great idea.

She would get her chance soon enough.