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“If I put them away, can we get out of here? Back to my place?” Zach said, suddenly sounding more awake.
Nice to know she wasn’t the only one who’d been suffering. She smiled at him. “I was counting on it.” She tipped her chin toward the door. “Go pack up your stuff.”
“Yes ma’am,” Zach said. He headed into the booth, humming just loud enough to be heard. It wasn’t a melody Leah recognized—a new song maybe?—and she hit the record button on the board, in case Zach might want to remember it, then went to take the empty beer bottles and dirty coffee mugs to the kitchen.
When she came back, Zach was still in the booth, sitting on the stool, guitar in hand, picking out a series of chords, face intent as he watched his fingers
“You’re hopeless,” Leah said from the doorway.
Zach looked up, those long tanned fingers stilling. Which only made her wish they were touching her, not the guitar.
“Just passing time. You could come over here and distract me,” he said.
“Oh yeah?” It was tempting. He was tired and rumpled and kind of irresistible. Especially when she hadn’t had her hands on that body for over forty-eight hours. She reached out an arm and hit the button to kill the recording without looking.
“Yeah,” he said. He put the guitar down and crooked a finger at her. Her legs moved of their own volition, crossing the width of floor between them before she knew what she was doing.
Zach rose to meet her, his hands catching her waist as she reached him, pulling her tight against him. He groaned, a satisfied kind of sound that caught her in all the right places.
“God,” he said fervently. “This has been a long two days.”
“Very,” she agreed, pushing her hips against him.
“Want to fool around?” Zach said, hand sliding down to her butt.
More than anything. But this was the studio.
“I locked the door,” he added. “It’s late. No one’s coming to check on us at this hour.” He lowered his head to her neck, pressing his lips to the place where he had to be able to feel the thud of her pulse—which was racing way too fast now that she was close to him again.
“I—” It was hard to remember why the studio was a bad idea. He was right. It was the middle of the night. No one was coming anywhere near the place. And right now, the guesthouse seemed way too far way. “We shouldn’t,” she said, but she knew it was only a token protest as heat spread through her.
“I disagree,” Zach said. He pushed his hips into her, and the feel of him, hot and hard behind his jeans, was hard to argue with.
“Oh, what the hell,” she said and pulled him down to the floor.
It was nearly midday Saturday before Leah made it back to the studio. She hadn’t had enough sleep but she didn’t mind. She’d dragged Zach back to the guesthouse after their initial round in the studio. His bed was far more comfortable than carpet, and great sex was worth a little missed sleep. Hopefully it wasn’t going to take her long to get things set up for Sienna Reese, who was arriving on Sunday. Then she could sneak in a nap this afternoon.
But when she scanned herself in, the lights were already on.
“Hello?” she called.
“In here,” Faith yelled back. It sounded like she was in the main studio.
Leah tried to summon an I’m-wide-awake-from-plenty-of-sleep-all-alone-in-my-bed face as she headed in that direction. “What are you doing here? Checking up on Nessa’s stuff?” she asked as she reached the studio and found Faith sitting at the board. “Did you find the recordings okay?”
Faith knew her way around the studio nearly as well as Leah. She couldn’t work the soundboard with the same skill but she knew how to play back a session.
“Actually, I was snooping on Zach,” Faith said. “He won’t tell me anything about how it’s going.”
“Maybe that’s because he thinks you’re still mad at him.”
Faith’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not mad. But that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven. He has ground to make up.”
“Tough crowd, huh?”
“Well, you know Zach—give him an inch and he’ll take a mile.”
“He’s not that bad,” Leah said, then cursed herself mentally. Defending Zach to Faith wasn’t going to make the situation any better. She smiled at Faith, aiming for happy and innocent. “Did you find his tapes?”
