It took all my strength to set Heather down and turn off the shower. I wrapped her in a plush bath towel and helped her dry her hair. Then I dried my own—again—and wrapped another towel around my waist. She looked so beautiful. No makeup on her peaches-and-cream complexion, her hair—the wetness brought out a darker shade of red—tumbling in damp spirals over her shoulders and back. And her eyes… When she looked at me…

I couldn’t go there. What I saw in her eyes was also reflected back in my own.

She was falling in love with me.

The thought filled me with elation, pure joy.

And also devastation.

I couldn’t drag her into this. I had other people to consider. I needed to create some distance, though I hated the thought.

I had already brought in some food. We could at least share a small snack. Then I would take her home.

I took her hand and led her to a table in the corner of my bedroom where I had set up some bread, cold cuts, and fruit, along with a bottle of Bordeaux.

“I was hoping for something a little more substantial, but this is all the cook left in my fridge. I hope you like sandwiches. I have peppered turkey and corned beef.”

“Sounds perfect.” She took a seat at the table.

I quickly opened the bottle of Bordeaux and poured us each a glass. “This is a great year. It can even class up corned beef sandwiches.”

She laughed. It sounded like happy laughter, which filled my heart with joy. She was beautiful when she laughed. Of course, Heather Myles would be beautiful doing anything, wearing anything. She was especially beautiful wearing nothing.

She took a sip of wine. “That’s really good. I don’t know much about wine, but it’s better than anything I’ve tasted before.”

“I don’t know much about wine either. My liquor store has a great sommelier, and I let him pick for me. He hasn’t disappointed me yet.” I smiled. “So what’s your pleasure? Turkey or corned beef?”

“Both,” she said. “I really didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.”

“Both it is.” I piled meat on a sandwich for her. “Mustard? Mayo? Swiss cheese?”

“All of the above.”

I placed her sandwich on a napkin, handed it to her, and then prepared one for myself.

“So,” she said, her mouth full of sandwich, “I had no idea Jett wasn’t your real name.”

I let out a guffaw. “Who would be named Jett Draconis?”

“You mean Draconis isn’t real, either?”

“God, no. My agent”—read Alicia—“liked it because it means dragon. She thought it sounded like a rock name.”

“What’s your real last name then?”

“Gustafson. It’s Swedish.”

“Jeremy Gustafson…” She took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. “You don’t look Swedish.”

“My dad was Swedish. My mom is German and Irish. My brother looks Swedish. He has blond hair and blue eyes.” I saddened at the thought of my brother for a moment. He’d had a tough life, much tougher than I had now being stuck with Alicia’s ultimatum.

He was the reason I had to let Heather go.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Yeah. He’s two years older than I am.” I frantically thought about ways to change the subject. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

That ought to do it.

“Just me. The one and only.”

She stopped talking then and concentrated on eating. Maybe she didn’t want to talk about her family life any more than I did. At the moment, that was a good thing.

We gobbled up the rest of our sandwiches in silence.

Luckily, we still had more wine. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Heather yet. Originally I had planned to feed her and then take her back to bed. My second thoughts had emerged when I realized she was feeling something more for me than I’d realized—something I could never return, though I wanted to more than anything in the world.

I topped off both of our wineglasses, and she took another sip.

“So remember when I asked you, the first night we met, whether you ever thought you were selling out by not pursuing opera?”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry I asked you that.”

“Why? It was a valid question.”

She took another sip of wine, her lips trembling just a bit. “Because first of all, it was none of my business. I had no right to judge you like that. You’re hugely talented, and you’ve become an enormous success. You’re using your God-given gifts.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” I smiled. “Bryan Cranston once did a commercial for hemorrhoid ointment.”

That got a laugh out of her.

“Hey, he was acting.”

“Yeah, he was. He did what he had to do to make it to the top, just like you have.”

I was starting to get a little uncomfortable. I’d had a lot of help along the way, and I entered into a terrible agreement to get there—something I was rapidly seeing hadn’t been worth it.

“I’m certainly no hero in that regard, Heather.”

“But you kind of are. You’re not doing opera. That doesn’t mean you won’t someday. Right now you’re making enough money so that later, you can pursue opera. I always wanted to write for the big screen. I wasn’t willing to settle for anything less. But where has that gotten me? Working my butt off as a waitress, getting my ass pinched—”

“What?” My ire rose. “You get your ass pinched?”

“This is LA, Jett. You know how it is here.”

“You need to quit that job.”

She arched one eyebrow. “I need that job. It’s how I pay my bills.”

“What if you no longer had to work? What if I…” I couldn’t finish.

“What if you what? Paid my bills for me? In exchange for what? Sex?” She stood.

“Heather, no. That isn’t what I was going to say.” In truth, it had been exactly what I was going to say, minus the payment in sex part.

“Well… What then?”

I shook my head. “Never mind. But I will take care of anyone who pinches you from now on. You just let me know.”

“I don’t actually get all of their names, Jett.”

Jett. Coming from her lips, my name sounded as fake as it was. I wanted to be Jeremy to her. I wanted to be myself, not Jett Draconis, rock star extraordinaire.

“I don’t like it, Heather.”

“I’m not actually crazy about it myself, but the pinchers are at least usually good tippers. Besides, I’m seeing now that some of it is my fault.”

“Are you crazy? None of this is your fault. No one has the right to touch you without your consent.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it that way. What I mean is… I’ve been afraid of selling out. That if I didn’t hold out for the big screen, I would be settling. But you’ve helped me see that that’s not the case. I could be writing for TV, or digital entertainment. I could be writing webinars. I could be doing a lot that would flex my writing skills and also make me money. I’ve been kind of blind, I think.”

“It’s not a bad thing to not want to sell out.” God, how I knew that. Though I enjoyed my life and the music I created, the devil’s bargain I’d made with Alicia was quickly becoming the bane of my existence.

“I’m not saying it’s bad. I just think I could be using the time I spend working at the diner doing some writing that would actually make money. That way I could at least be practicing my own form of art, just the way you are.”

Her eyes sparkled as she looked at me with something extraordinary—almost veneration. I certainly didn’t deserve that honor.

“I think it’s amazing that you found a way to make money doing what you love.”

“Honestly, baby, it’s just as hard for rock stars to break into the scene as it is for opera singers. Maybe harder.”

“But you did it, Jett. You did it, and you have this amazing career.”

“But I might be ruining my voice for future endeavors.”

She laughed at that. Actually laughed. “You already told me that you know how to keep your voice healthy.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Then why did you just say that?”

Why had I? Because I was damned uncomfortable with this conversation. I would still be a nobody in LA without Alicia Hopkins and the deal I’d struck with her.

That was something Heather Myles would never know about. She was as pure of soul as I’d come across since I moved to LA, and I didn’t want to taint that.

And that was when I knew I would take her to bed again.

I had to be with her once more. First I’d see if she’d let me bind her, to show her how I liked to make love. Then, after that, I’d take her in the most basic position—her lying on her back, knees curled up, and me on top of her, driving my hard cock into her wet pussy while we gazed into each other’s eyes.

I needed that last memory of this perfect woman.