Hard Rocked by Clara Bayard Page A

Think of her as a combination of babysitter and guard dog.”
    Looking at the bored and annoyed faces I realized the band and their entourage were going to hate me if I didn’t do something about it soon. It was somewhat reassuring to see that Ryan was as much of a self-important jerk to everyone, but I didn’t want his obvious irritation at his sort-of demotion to rub off on me.
    So I stepped away from him and smiled wider at the group. “Okay, I think everyone gets the idea, Ryan. Instead of talking their ears off why don’t I just take a little time to meet the guys. We can talk about any other details later. I’m sure you have better things to do your last days in the States than listen to my job description.”
    Of course, I already knew who a few of the people around the room were. Dream Defiled had become a hugely successful group over the last year. Their faces were all over magazines and the web. Their songs were all over the radio.
    The first person to speak directly to me was a big reason for their fame. Front man Joe Hawk was remarkably good-looking, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He wasn’t just a wonderful singer and songwriter, his charisma was magnetic. Even in a professional setting it was hard to avoid being dazzled. He grinned at me and stood up.
    “Sorry for the pathetic manners. Everyone’s hyper today.”
    I nodded. “That’s understandable.”
    “Yeah. I’m Joe.” He came over and actually shook my hand, which made me smile. “Nice you meet you, Rebecca.”
    “You too, Joe. And please, everyone, call me Becca.” I cast a glance over at Ryan, hoping one day that request would penetrate his brain. Not likely from what I’d seen of him so far.
    Matthew came over next. He made a gesture that was half nod and half shrug and then pushed past me to leave the room. It was abrupt, but not rude exactly. In all the interviews he didn’t seem to say much, so I didn’t take offense. Ryan cursed under his breath and followed, leaving me alone in the room full of strangers.
    Joe put his hand on my arm. “Ignore Matthew. He had to talk for five whole minutes this morning and may never recover.”
    I chuckled. “Noted. Matthew’s the quiet one.”
    “And how. Now let me introduce you to the one you’ll wish was quiet.” He led me over to a couch where a tall, broad shouldered man was stretched out, holding a beer. “Becca, this is Dex. Dex, Becca.”
    I scanned through what I knew about him. An Army brat of sorts, he’d spent his childhood with his British mother and American father on military bases around the world. According to his Wikipedia page he’d moved to the States at age sixteen when his mother died. Father eventually moved to England to be closer to his late wife’s family, but by that time Dex was entrenched in the music scene and stayed behind. Quite a history, I thought. Unfortunately his reputation for being a huge player tamped down any interest I might have in learning more about him.
    Or, at least, it should have. Joe’s ability to draw in anyone was well-known, but there was something even more intriguing about Dex. I couldn’t tell if it was the hint of something more behind the humor in his dark eyes or just a feeling, but something in me reacted to him chemically. And physically. My eyes widened and my throat went dry just looking at him.
    “Hey,” he said pleasantly. “Want a beer or something?”
    “No, thank you. I’m working.”
    “Of course. Little Joey here might get his head stuck in a toilet and you’ll have to get it out for him.”
    “More likely I’ll get my boot stuck up your ass, buddy,” Joe replied with a laugh. Their good-natured ribbing of each other was a staple of their press appearances and stage show. It was nice to see the banter was genuine. So little was in this business.
    Dex got up slowly, his long limbs stretching gracefully. “Oh, big man. When Liss gets here I’ll tell her you were rude to me. She’ll set you