I was so shocked to see Gabe standing in my dressing room doorway that it took me a few seconds to register his expression.

Anger rolled off him in waves and his gray eyes were so dark I swore I could see storm clouds in them.

“Gabe?” I said again, because I didn’t know what else to say. Had he heard me on the phone with Alana or was this about something else?

Gabe took a step into the room and shut the door behind him.

The space suddenly felt very small and it made no sense to me that, rather than feeling wary, I found his anger interesting. Every time I’d seen Gabe before, he had such an easy way about him. I couldn’t quite believe this was the same man.

“Did Johnnie take advantage of you?” His voice was gruff. Demanding.

I’d never seen him like this before. He stood perfectly still and all the usual motion was gone. No fingers thrumming out a silent rhythm only he could hear, no legs moving up and down.

“Excuse me?” I said, because I couldn’t quite make sense of the situation.

“Johnnie,” Gabe spat. “Did he take advantage of you?”

Time seemed to stand still and I stared at him. Now I understood. Somehow he felt responsible, which was sweet yet completely unnecessary. His fellow band member’s behavior had been inappropriate, but that wasn’t Gabe’s fault.

“It was a kiss, that’s all,” I assured him.

“It looked like more than that.”

I recalled Johnnie’s wayward hand and without thinking, waved my own hand in the air dismissively. “Oh, he tried, don’t get me wrong, but—”

Gabe stepped close and caught my wrist. “He tried to what?”

I stared at him holding me. His grip was firm but not hard. It was almost like he was hanging on until I gave him an answer.

“I slapped him.”

Gabe blinked.

“When he put his hand down my front, I slapped him.”

Gabe let go of my hand and rocked back on his heels.

“I know the video didn’t show that,” I continued, “but obviously whoever posted it figured there wouldn’t be much of a story if they left that in.”

“You slapped Johnnie?” Gabe said, sounding a little dazed.

“I enjoyed it too,” I said proudly. “We were both drunk and the stupid idiot insisted on giving me a birthday kiss. Obviously my idea of what constitutes a birthday kiss and his are a little different.”

“You slapped him,” Gabe repeated, but it wasn’t a question this time.

“I can slap him again if you like,” I offered. “Or maybe you’d like to? I’d highly recommend it.”

Gabe took another step back like he was unsteady on his feet and ran a hand through his hair. Then he laughed. Soft at first, then the warm rumble grew into something louder, happier.

I grinned at him. “Does that answer your question?”

He pushed a hand through his hair again. “Yes. I’m sorry, yes. This is weird isn’t it?”

“No weirder than everyone watching me and Johnnie kiss.” Or discussing my virginity with my publicist, but I didn’t say that.

His laughter faded.

I immediately wished I’d kept my mouth shut.

“Have you been able to figure out who posted the video?” he asked.

“No, not yet. I have someone looking into it.” I knew Lena’s boyfriend, Marc, preferred to remain anonymous. “Not that it will make any difference. It’s out there now.”

There was a beat of silence before he replied, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” I couldn’t identify his expression. Was it somewhere between wonder and respect, or confusion?

“Put up with all the media attention.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, it sucks sometimes, doesn’t it? Like now. But it is what it is. Surely you’re used to it? Gypsy Hour is huge.”

Gabe shifted from one foot to the other, still looking uncomfortable. “It’s not the same for me. Johnnie, yeah. He’s in the thick of it. Levi too. Me? I’m pretty unremarkable.”

“I disagree.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

We stared at each other until my chest felt tight with the effort of holding my breath. His eyes were lighter now and I recognized a spark of humor in them.

“Haven’t we had this conversation before?” he asked.

“Maybe. I’m not sure you were listening the first time.”

Oh my goodness. Were we flirting? And if we were, what did that mean?

“You did great on the drums earlier, by the way.”

The change of subject seemed to dissipate some of the tension and I wasn’t sure if it was deliberate.

“Thanks. Don’t take it personally, but I think I’ll stick to singing and piano.”

“I won’t.” There was another beat of silence. “So, ah, I might see you around at your place sometime.”

I stared again, not understanding. What was he saying?

“Your brother and I are going to jam,” he explained.

“You what?”

Gabe grinned and I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag.

“We’re going to jam together. He’s a damn talented drummer. I don't think he sees it.”

“He is?”

Gabe laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, he is. You sound surprised.”

I struggled to find the right words. “I mean, I could tell he’s not bad, but Damon’s never really found his thing, you know? He was too shy to try acting. He had a go at art and he was into video production for a while. But I guess the drums and the music thing has lasted the longest.”

“Well, I’m telling you he’s good. He should stick with it.”

I could feel my cheeks color with pride for my brother. “Thank you. That means a lot. And spending some time with Damon is going to mean the world to him.”

Gabe shrugged. “It’s not just for him. I get to jam with him, too. Try out some new songs.”

I frowned. “Why wouldn’t you do that with Johnnie and the others?”

Gabe shrugged again, but this time the movement appeared stiff. “We’re not writing at the moment and the dynamic is different. It’s nice just to play for the enjoyment of it for a change.”

I wondered if there was more to it than that. From what I’d seen, Johnnie seemed to run the show and maybe that frustrated Gabe. Or maybe it was like he said—nice to do something different for a change.

“Well, Damon will love it.”

“Sure.” He looked at his feet, one of which was back to its old antics. He glanced at me, then looked away again. “So, ah, I might see you around, then.”

It wasn’t a question, but why did it feel like it was?

“I’m filming at the moment, but I’ll stick my head in if I get a chance,” I promised.

Gabe nodded, his foot still tapping and now his thumb joined in, thrumming against his thigh.

He was so different to Johnnie. It made me wonder how they’d ended up in the same band together. Gabe was sweet and self-deprecating, almost shy at times, and the earlier anger I had witnessed was of the protective variety.

Before I could think about what I was doing, I stepped in and placed a hand on his shoulder. I felt Gabe still and we were almost cheek-to-cheek. He didn’t look at me, but I could tell he was trying hard not to.

“Thank you,” I whispered. Then I leaned in and put my lips to his cheek.

The lyrics to their song filled my mind:

One kiss is all it took.

It was meant to be a chaste kiss, my way of showing I was grateful for his concern, but a spark of something bright and hot shot through me as my lips grazed his rough cheek.

He must have felt it too because I heard him inhale a tight breath. His voice sounded just as tight when he spoke. “What for?”

“For looking out for me. I appreciate it.” My lips were close to his ear and I swore I could have just stood there all day, breathing in the scent of him.

He nodded. An almost imperceptible shake of the head, like he was scared to move. Was I going crazy or was he as affected by me as I was by him?

“I’m glad you’re OK,” he said softly.

“My reputation may not be,” I joked. I’d been about to add that I was fine, but the words stopped in my throat when his hand came up to rest on top of mine.

“Your reputation is safe with me.”

There was sincerity in his tone that made me ease back and look at him. Our eyes met and I was lost. I had no words. Nothing. The insane thing was, I couldn’t have cared less about my reputation when it came to Gabriel da Silva. If that video had been of the two of us, I’d have been celebrating. How twisted was that?

His fingers were warm on mine and the contact was making me light-headed, which was why my next words slipped out before I could stop them. “I wish it had been you giving me that birthday kiss.”

Desire—at least I think it was desire—darkened his gaze.

“I’ve got to go,” I blurted. I couldn’t believe I’d just been so bold, and I was too scared to think about what my eyes were communicating. Kiss me? Take me? Or I’d possibly just looked plain terrified, which was even worse.

I slid my hand away, ignoring the way it tingled from our contact, and all but ran for the door.