“You say it as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “It’s not.”

  I didn’t have any illusions about who I was. I dyed my hair black, wore bra size 32B, and listened to a whole lot of music that made me cry. I never tried to be someone else. I worked with what I had. I didn’t peg a man like Frankie to be interested in a girl like me. But I could totally see an up-and-coming tattoo artist wanting to take me out.

  “I think you’re…” Frank paused for a second. I wasn’t certain if he was looking for the right word or merely wanted to prepare me for what was about to come out of his mouth. “Exquisite.”

  My stomach tightened.

  “You still believe there’s some ulterior motive behind my inviting you to dinner?”

  I looked up to the sky and scanned the dark, heavy clouds hanging above our heads. The air was still and there was no moon tonight. “Okay”—my gaze returned to his face—“let me get this straight. You, the man who has an entire planet lusting after you, including a number of famous and beautiful women, checked out for seven years and now that you’re back and lusted after even more, you want some reporter from Burbank who may or may not sell you out for a big buck.”

  He nodded.

  “Remind me again… Did you hit your head during the accident?” I reached for his hair and ruffled it. My fingers were lost in its silky thickness.

  The corners of his lips curled up. “Did anyone ever tell you your empathy levels are incredibly low?”

  “No. Did your ego get hurt somehow? I’m sorry about that.”

  “I like that you don’t shy away from cracking jokes about my head after it’s pretty much been through a meat grinder.”

  “Laughter is the best medicine, Frank.” Unwillingly, I drew my hand away from his hair.

  He pushed himself up to return his upper body to a vertical position. “I need to tell you something, Cassy.” This time, his voice was serious. “You and your partner will be getting an email from my publicist tomorrow, but I wanted you to hear it from me.”

  Panic crept up my spine. I waited.

  “Your magazine can’t run my video interview.”

  Bitterness filled me. “Why not?” I asked, disappointed. At that moment, I wasn’t a woman on a date—or, at least, I’d thought it was a date—with a man. I was a mother who’d just lost one of her babies. That interview meant a lot more to me than Frank could have ever imagined.

  “This is why.” I heard his whisper.

  Then it happened. He gently caught my mouth with his, a cool gasp tingling on my lips. Our bodies were close but not touching; our hands didn’t dare move. The entire city stood still. My heart was a restless storm in my ribcage. I was drowning. Drowning in the sweet heat of his breath, in the light graze of his stubble against my skin, in the sudden promise of something real.

  His mouth, soft yet insistent, slid against mine slowly, teasing. My mind was in shock while my greedy lips took everything he was willing to give. Each and every second of sizzling pleasure.

  I heard the box of crackers fall over as he shifted on the blanket, his broad chest pressing to me. Our tongues danced a gentle dance, and holy shit, for a spoiled man, Frank knew how to be generous with a kiss. Electrical currents ran through my body. My blood was thick with desire, and I was ashamed of all the thoughts in my head because I’d finally let myself wander into forbidden territory.

  “Now you have enough for a novella,” Frank whispered against my mouth before pulling away.

  I sat there, motionless, and watched him with my heart drumming a savage beat against my ribcage. My throat tightened. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to say.

  After putting the picnic supplies in the trunk, we climbed into the Range Rover and Frank turned on the music. Mild shock still ruled me. My lips ached for his mouth. I’d forgotten all about the interview.

  “Have you ever scuba dived?” he asked matter-of-factly.

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “Would you like to?”

  “Sure.”

  “Pick you up tomorrow around noon?”

  Wow, this is moving too fast, I thought, but prior real life commitments reminded me who I was. “I actually have an event to cover tomorrow.”

  “I guess my charm doesn’t work on you, Cassy Evans.” He laughed.

  “Oh, it works fine. I simply can’t drop everything I’m doing for a scuba session with a rock star.”

  “What are you covering?”

  “Umm… It’s a small awards show.”

  “Yeah?”

  “At El Capitan. Downtown.”

  “What kind of awards?”

  “You ever heard of KGLT?”

  “The radio station?”

  “Yeah, they mainly play grunge. So they’re the ones hosting the awards. It’s the second year they’ve done it and it’s pretty low key so far…”

  “Any interesting bands?”

  “Oh, there’s going to be tons.”

  I went on to list all the artists. Frank watched me with fascination, his eyes set to my lips.

  “Zombie Annihilation?” he repeated the name of the last band I said. “Well, how the hell am I going to compete with that?”

  “Maybe some other time?”

  “Yes, has to be some other time when the zombies aren’t throwing a show.”

  We stared at each other. The music stopped.

  “So…tell me the truth.” My gaze roamed his face and body. He was eye candy for sure. Raw and radiant with a pinch of dark. “There are no demos, are there?”

  “There are. We have most of the new record tracked. Just hasn’t been mastered yet.”

  My spine stiffened. “So the new album is already written?” I clarified.

  “Pretty much.”

  “The press release said something different.”

  “To hype up the crowd.”

  “Will there be a tour?”

  His chest rose, and thin fabric stretched across his firm pecs. He was holding a breath and I felt his fear at that moment. I couldn’t explain it yet, but it crawled through my veins like a spider.

  “Frank?” My gut told me it was time to ask the questions I’d been wanting to ask. He’d opened the door today, and all I needed to do was to walk in and take a look around.

  “Yes.” I heard his whisper. “We have a few one-off shows booked later this year and a US tour is in the works. The information just hasn’t been released to the public yet.”

  I wanted to ask why because “later this year” was very close. Too close if you looked at it through the lens of a music business insider. Shows and tours for a band like Hall Affinity, especially under the circumstances, were announced many months, sometimes even years in advance. Intuition told me there was a lot more going on behind the scenes than Frank led me to believe.

  “Why is the label holding out then?” I asked carefully.

  He looked at me with a faint smile. “It’s not the label. I’m waiting for the doctors to clear me.”

  “Oh.” My breath came out in a gasp.

  “Want to hear something sexy?” He smirked, bringing his face to mine.

  “S-sure.”

  “Right now, there’s more metal in my body than in the periodic table, Cassy.”

  My eyes widened with shock.

  “Titanium,” he added, pulling back.

  I was still. The words I wanted to say had deserted me.

  “After the accident, I had to learn everything all over again. How to walk, how to hold a spoon, how to brush my teeth… How to sing.”

  “But you were magnificent during Douglas & Krueger.”

  “It’s not the singing, Cassy. Singing is the easiest part.”

  “How many surgeries have you had?”

  “Honestly, I lost count.” He shrugged. “I have a rod in each leg. I had my ribs realigned. There’s a plate in my right shoulder.”

  Part of me didn’t believe him because he looked almost normal to me. Healthy even. “Are you in pain?”

  “No, not now, Dr. Evans.” Amusement pinched his face, the side of his mouth curling upward.

  “Are you often?”

  “No.”

  “Damn… You could give Iron Man a run for his money.”

  “I sure could.”

  We laughed.

  “Wait! You can scuba dive with all that hardware?”

  “With an instructor, yes. Roman is usually around too. Just in case.”

  I was blown away. The man had almost died because of his addiction to bikes. Now that his body was half-metal, he was trying the underwater activities.

  “Remember, this is still a demo,” his voice said as he pulled out his cell to connect it to the Range Rover’s Bluetooth.

  I wasn’t prepared for the music. It poured over me like a torrential rain. The song had a haunting beginning. Dante’s signature riff came first, followed by a bass line. Frank’s voice, layered and soft, joined subtly. His vocals slid into the arrangement with caution, as if he needed reassurance this was still his vocation, his calling. The drums didn’t kick in until after the first chorus.

  I listened to the song without looking at Frank. I couldn’t, because he’d kissed me less than an hour ago. If he wanted to hear my honest opinion, I had to separate the man on the record from the man in this car. And boy, was it difficult.

  The music stopped and silence took over.

  I expected a question from him, but none came.

  “You’re going to break my heart all over again,” I whispered finally.

  “That’s not what I was going for.”

  “It’s really good.” Fucking terrific. “Cassy Evans-approved.” I didn’t know what else to say. This was a solid Hall Affinity song. Rich, deep, and very powerful. They hadn’t lost their touch.

  “Thank you.” He nodded and put his phone away.

  “Does it have a title?”

  “Yes. ‘Awake.’”

  “I love it.”

  “Are you sure you can’t find someone to cover for you tomorrow?”

  “No. I’m sorry.” I wanted to, but I couldn’t do that to Levi. There was Frank and then there was the rest of the world. And I had to make it work with each without sacrificing the other.

  Chapter Seven

  El Capitan was a hot, messy, screaming hell full of guys in Pearl Jam and Audioslave T-shirts and girls with neon hair and pictures of Kurt Cobain slapped over their clothes. Levi and I had six interviews lined up for the night, and the PR company that handled the event publicity was kind enough to give us a separate room backstage. Which didn’t happen often.

  Carlos was in the pit, doing what he did best, securing live shots for Rewired.

  I took a couple of trips to the main floor to get an idea of how big the crowd was. The place was stuffy and was too small to host an event of this caliber. While still low-key compared to major awards like Billboard or Grammy, the KGLT’s Best in Alternative had been getting more and more recognition. Tonight, there were quite a few bigger record label artist relations reps and music acts here. There was a better PA system than in the past. A nicer stage setup. According to Levi’s projections, next year, this event could very likely be held at a much larger venue, such as the Microsoft Theater. Assuming the organizers kept pushing forward. People who crapped out on their causes in this business weren’t rare.

  It was around nine when the energy level backstage kicked up. We had just finished our third artist interview. The door to the small dressing room where Levi and I were set up was wide open. I stood on the threshold with my microphone in my hand, staring at the bullet list on my phone. The AC here was shit. I felt like I was wearing a wet towel instead of a tee and a pair of jeans. I regretted the boots too. Their only benefit was the extra couple of inches they added to my height.

  Yesterday’s late night picnic with Frank and today’s official email from Jay Brodie PR had turned me into a high-strung bitch. I didn’t like myself, because I couldn’t tell Levi anything about why we weren’t chosen to run the interview. Although Frank had never said it, I knew why he didn’t want a video of him and me circulating on the net. We’d already been seen holding hands. Having more footage out there would eventually have people digging. A rock singer who’d been in hiding for seven years and a reporter. It would make a juicy story. A story I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of. But sadly, it was too late.

  Then there was the kiss.

  “Cass?” Levi called out.

  “Huh?” I spun on my heels.

  He eyed me from behind his camera. “Move a little to the left for the next one. I’m shooting this wide. Your shoulder looks strange.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” I nodded.

  Tonight was one of those weird nights where we had to go with the flow because everyone was behind schedule. Our next artist was still on stage. I could hear the music boom through the busy hallway. Then a tangle of agitated voices and radio static traveled in my direction, a crew member rushing past me.

  “What’s going on?” I questioned the guy.

  He shot me a frenzied glance. “Someone just saw Frankie Blade on the red carpet.”

  The blood drained from my face. The mic in my hand shook.

  “What the hell?” Levi leapt over to me, his head doing a one-eighty around the hallway. “Is this dude for real? First, he shoots down our video. Now he’s stalking us.”

  Levi obviously meant it as a joke. A sarcastic one, judging by his tone. But I wasn’t so sure he was wrong. My cheeks burned and my stomach heaved.

  We’d posted the transcribed version of the interview this morning. It’d gotten a lot of hits. Tens of thousands. Probably more. I hadn’t looked at the stats for a couple of hours, but I knew Rewired numbers were flying high tonight. My Twitter wouldn’t shut up, and my Instagram followers were ticking in too.

  I heard my heart beating inside my chest despite all the hum. The air was full of anticipation; the security guards were alert.

  I didn’t see him behind the wall of his entourage, but I knew it was him. I felt him. A couple of unfamiliar faces led the group. Corey marched in next, his body blocking my view of Frankie. Roman’s head bobbed in the very back. Some fans trailed after.

  The entire hallway lit up. Necks twisting, eyes wide. There was some handshaking involved. Casual conversations took place. Frankie was in his element. He didn’t look like a man who’d been cut open countless times and had a dozen metal plates inside his body to keep him from falling apart. He looked like a rich, spoiled, and entitled ass. He moved slowly, displaying a killer smile until the group finally stopped by our dressing room.

  Our gazes met. The hum swelled as the people in the crowd fought for a spot closer to Frankie. A few cell phone flashes assaulted my eyes. Thankfully, Roman quickly intervened, hustling people away.

  “Cassy? Right?” Frankie’s voice carried over the noise, his brows twisted in concentration. “Didn’t we chat a couple of days ago?” He extended his hand.

  I placed my palm in his and shook it. “Yes. We did.” My skin tingled where we connected. Electricity surged through my wrist and up my arm. This was an incredibly dangerous game, and I loved it.

  “The Regency?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “The Regency.” My eyes ogled his outfit. He wore a simple burgundy shirt and black jeans and looked fantastic.

  His grasp on my hand tightened for a brief moment before he let go and switched his attention to Levi. They started talking, but I only heard bits and pieces of the conversation because the crowd had grown so big that people began to slip into the dressing room. Soon, we were surrounded by dozens of screaming fans. I wasn’t sure if some of them sneaked in from the main floor or if they were all working backstage tonight. I couldn’t tell, because my mind was struggling to stay alert.

  I saw Roman moving through the chaos. He pushed his way in and started hustling people into the hallway. The glimmer of the fluorescent overheads slid across his shiny bald head.

  “Thank you,” I said appreciatively.

  “No problem, ma’am.” A crooked smile touched his hard face. He stepped closer, his voice dropping a couple of octaves. “Boss wanted to know if you’re available for a drink after the event.”

  I peeked around. Levi was busy talking to Frankie’s manager. Frankie was signing someone’s T-shirt. People didn’t care about me and the rock star’s bodyguard. Right now, we were muddy background noise.

  My stomach fluttered. “We should be done at eleven. Eleven thirty at the latest,” I mouthed, hoping Roman could read lips.

  He could.

  “Copy that.” A chin jerk.

  I wondered how many times he’d done this, performed the duties of a messenger when his employer crashed a new flame’s workplace. I wondered about many things and couldn’t help but compare myself to the women Frankie Blade had been rumored to date.

  “Cassy! Very nice to see you again,” Frankie said on his way out. Roman hurried to make room.

  “Nice to see you too.” I waved my mic at him.

  He shot me a heated glance before leaving, and my legs went numb.

  Frankie Blade was going to be my downfall.

  The man was demolishing me slowly but surely.

  My prediction was incorrect. Levi and I didn’t stop filming until midnight. The last band took forever. They were tired and drunk and asked me to repeat almost every question. Interviewing artists after their set was like pulling teeth, with me being the dentist.

  An email from Frank had come in around eleven, but I didn’t see it until we were packed up.

  I’ll be outside, it said. Lose your partner.

  I wasn’t sure if he was going to wait in the loading zone or in the front. I wasn’t even sure what vehicle to look for. Maybe a Lamborghini? My racing mind scrambled for plausible ways to get rid of Levi as we left the dressing room. The organizers had given us press passes and our cars were next to each other at the rear of the building. I didn’t want to be a weirdo who sat behind the wheel, waiting. Especially when Levi had way more gear. Besides, my partner was too smart. An intricate plan was in order.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I asked as we rounded the corner on the way out. My bag dangled against my hip. “I’ve been feeling a little funny last couple of hours. I think maybe the tacos were bad.”

 

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