outstretched next to me. “I … my dad has Parkinson’s disease.” It was the first thing that came to mind, and from the clouds that shadowed Carly’s eyes, I knew it wasn’t the right answer.
“For a blind date? Probably go with something a little more light-hearted.” She bit her lip, but she reached out her hand and took mine again, stroking her fingers over my knuckles. It was the best and the worst feeling I’d ever had. Somehow, my lust had turned into sorrow.
We talked for hours on the lawn, laughing, smiling and just generally being alive. She made it easy to breathe. She made my stress about meeting my brother melt away.
My brother never showed up that day. But my love for Carly did.
Present day …
“L EE- FREAKING -C OLLINS , if you don’t get your ass back-stage in five minutes, so help me God, I’m gonna come in there and piggy-back you out.” Kate’s voice came through the door, accompanied by her pounding fist. She’d only been on tour with us for three weeks, but already she had the whole ‘nagging tour girl’ routine down pat.
I flung the door open fast, so fast that her fist, which was coming down for a further knocking, instead pounded my naked chest, causing her cheeks to turn this damn cute shade of red that had me stifling a grin.
“I … um …” She looked down, to the left, to the right—anywhere but at my face, or more appropriately, my chest.
“You okay?” I asked, and this time I couldn’t stop my smirk. She was so freaking cute. She was driving me crazy. There was something about her—the way she went red at anything, the littlest of things … it was nice. When you had girls throw their underwear at you, if they bothered wearing any, seeing someone who got a little shy at touching your naked chest wasn’t just a rarity—it was something to be treasured.
Kate’s lips formed a thin line and she somehow managed to look around my chest before meeting my gaze head on. I shook my head; she should be used to it by now. Since she’d joined the tour, she’d seen me without a shirt on or with my shirt undone or raised no fewer than six times. And yes, I had orchestrated each of those appearances.
“You. In.” She pointed to the room behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder.
“In there?” I smirked again, but her cheeks didn’t get any redder, to my astonishment. “Is now really the time?”
She pushed against my chest, her steely eyes fixed on my face the whole time, then slammed the door behind us with her foot.
“If you wanted some private time together, you just had to say so,” I joked, leaning back against the chair that was positioned in front of the mirror in my dressing room.
“You think this is funny?” Kate asked, her head tilted to the side.
“Actually … yeah.” I nodded and smiled again, not unkindly.
Kate looked down, and for one God-awful moment I thought she was going to cry.
Then, she did something better than crying. Holy mother of crap sticks, was this better than crying.
She raised her hands to the top of her black button-up shirt—and she undid the top button. Creamy, white skin was exposed, defined collarbones, teasing my eyes down to—
She undid another button. Holy fuck, what was Kate doing? Her cleavage heaved in front of me, and I got a hint, just a hint of her black lacy bra.
“It cannot be a coincidence that one man is shirtless in front of me seven times in three weeks.”
I grinned. She’d counted.
That totally means she’s into it.
Then she did something that completely surprised me. Hell, it shocked the living daylight out of me. In one fluid movement, she grabbed the sides of her shirt and pulled, press studs popping open her entire top, and then she shrugged it over her shoulders so she stood there in the world’s hottest black, lacy bra, skin-tight black denim jeans and these shoes—how the hell did I not notice them before?—that were red, high, and sexy as sin.
I swallowed.
This girl was
“For a blind date? Probably go with something a little more light-hearted.” She bit her lip, but she reached out her hand and took mine again, stroking her fingers over my knuckles. It was the best and the worst feeling I’d ever had. Somehow, my lust had turned into sorrow.
We talked for hours on the lawn, laughing, smiling and just generally being alive. She made it easy to breathe. She made my stress about meeting my brother melt away.
My brother never showed up that day. But my love for Carly did.
Present day …
“L EE- FREAKING -C OLLINS , if you don’t get your ass back-stage in five minutes, so help me God, I’m gonna come in there and piggy-back you out.” Kate’s voice came through the door, accompanied by her pounding fist. She’d only been on tour with us for three weeks, but already she had the whole ‘nagging tour girl’ routine down pat.
I flung the door open fast, so fast that her fist, which was coming down for a further knocking, instead pounded my naked chest, causing her cheeks to turn this damn cute shade of red that had me stifling a grin.
“I … um …” She looked down, to the left, to the right—anywhere but at my face, or more appropriately, my chest.
“You okay?” I asked, and this time I couldn’t stop my smirk. She was so freaking cute. She was driving me crazy. There was something about her—the way she went red at anything, the littlest of things … it was nice. When you had girls throw their underwear at you, if they bothered wearing any, seeing someone who got a little shy at touching your naked chest wasn’t just a rarity—it was something to be treasured.
Kate’s lips formed a thin line and she somehow managed to look around my chest before meeting my gaze head on. I shook my head; she should be used to it by now. Since she’d joined the tour, she’d seen me without a shirt on or with my shirt undone or raised no fewer than six times. And yes, I had orchestrated each of those appearances.
“You. In.” She pointed to the room behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder.
“In there?” I smirked again, but her cheeks didn’t get any redder, to my astonishment. “Is now really the time?”
She pushed against my chest, her steely eyes fixed on my face the whole time, then slammed the door behind us with her foot.
“If you wanted some private time together, you just had to say so,” I joked, leaning back against the chair that was positioned in front of the mirror in my dressing room.
“You think this is funny?” Kate asked, her head tilted to the side.
“Actually … yeah.” I nodded and smiled again, not unkindly.
Kate looked down, and for one God-awful moment I thought she was going to cry.
Then, she did something better than crying. Holy mother of crap sticks, was this better than crying.
She raised her hands to the top of her black button-up shirt—and she undid the top button. Creamy, white skin was exposed, defined collarbones, teasing my eyes down to—
She undid another button. Holy fuck, what was Kate doing? Her cleavage heaved in front of me, and I got a hint, just a hint of her black lacy bra.
“It cannot be a coincidence that one man is shirtless in front of me seven times in three weeks.”
I grinned. She’d counted.
That totally means she’s into it.
Then she did something that completely surprised me. Hell, it shocked the living daylight out of me. In one fluid movement, she grabbed the sides of her shirt and pulled, press studs popping open her entire top, and then she shrugged it over her shoulders so she stood there in the world’s hottest black, lacy bra, skin-tight black denim jeans and these shoes—how the hell did I not notice them before?—that were red, high, and sexy as sin.
I swallowed.
This girl was
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