Bear Treble (Highland Brothers 4) by Meredith Clarke, Ally Summers Page B

the coffee mug on the railing, and looked at the words on the page. He knew it was complete shit. He’d never met Layla Love, but he knew she wasn’t about to sing this.
    He ripped the page, crumpling it in his large hands until it was a wadded ball. “Damn it,” he muttered.
    He was running out of time. Billy wanted six songs by the end of the weekend. And if he was really delivering what he should, he’d give the producer eight to ten. There was no doubt Layla would want to choose her own out of the batch. Six would be selling her short.
    He pressed the tip of the pen against the first line on the pad. The ink seeped into the paper, making a blot that stained through to the next page.
    He scribbled a few lines then picked up his guitar. It was small against his barrel of a chest. He closed his eyes, trying to picture the notes floating in front of his eyes, but his ears twitched.
    He could hear the crunch of gravel and the familiar sound of an engine peeling through the winding Highland drive.
    “What the hell?”
    He laid the guitar down, careful not to let it hit the porch. He stood to greet the car tearing down the dirt driveway.
    The car stopped short of the front steps. A man climbed from the driver side of the SUV and walked to the back. Dylan watched as a high heel touched the ground followed by another.
    “Thank you, Hal.”
    The driver closed the door, revealing the mysterious occupant was none other than Layla Love.
    Dylan peered at her as she walked slowly toward the stairs. Her heels kept getting stuck in the rocks.
    “Are you the infamous Dylan Highland?” She smiled, taking a step closer. “I know we’ve never met, but I feel like we have. I’m Layla.”
    As her first pointy shoe touched the bottom step, Dylan felt the sharp intake of air almost strangle him. It ran through his limbs, gripping him from the inside, yanking at his lungs, grasping his heart, hammering against his veins.
    He reached for the banister, desperate to calm his bear. Desperate to fight the reaction he was having to Layla.
    He swallowed hard. “I know who you are. What are you doing out here?” It sounded like the words were strangled in the back of his throat.
    “I came to get my songs.” She puckered her lips together.
    She was drawing closer, and his blood was thickening under his skin. His pulse raced with an eagerness he’d never felt.
    “They aren’t ready.” It was all he could manage to say. He was trying to fasten the chains to his bear. Trying to stop what was coursing through his system, but he knew it was too late.
    His bear was awake. Awake like he had never been before. He was on fire, raging to touch her, to hold her, to kiss those pouty lips. He squeezed his hands by his side, forcing them to stay still.
    This was fucking Layla Love. The number one rock and soul princess in the world. The woman had more fans than anyone else on the planet.
    And she was his mate.

4
    Layla
    S he’d never met Dylan , but she didn’t expect him to be so tall. Actually, she didn’t expect him to be hot and sexy either. Most songwriters she worked with were lanky guys who were too many days overdue for a shower. She tried not to stare at his physique, but under the porch light all she could see was the sharp lines of his jaw and a definite pulse in his neck.
    “I had a feeling you’d say that.” She sashayed up the stairs until she was next to him on the landing. “I’ve come to help. I want to speed things along.”
    “Y-you can’t do that. I’ll get you the songs.”
    “That’s what Billy said. And I know you two are friends, but I can’t put my entire career in Billy’s hands.” She paused. “Or yours.”
    She felt Dylan’s eyes on her as she strolled toward the guitar. “Billy is a great producer. You should listen to him. He knows what he is talking about.”
    She saw the notebook resting on the railing next to a cup of coffee. “Is this one of the songs?” There were two lines scrawled across the