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"Of course you're welcome to lose the sweater." He picks up a pair of sticks. "And the button up blouse."
"You're okay with your friends seeing me in my bra?"
His voice drops to something low and seductive. "I don't mind being watched."
Oh.
My head fills with all sorts of beautiful mental images.
My chest heaves.
My sex clenches.
I'm a filthy pervert.
Who knew?
Joel's smile is something truly, beautifully evil. He winks at me.
His expression shifts as he turns his attention to his drum kit. He's focused.
Intense.
At peace.
Serenity spreads over his face as he pounds at his drum kit. This is exactly where Joel belongs. He knows it. Everyone in the venue knows it.
His movements are precise and loose at the same time. God, his arms are moving so fast I can't keep up.
It's incredibly sexy.
But it's more than that.
There's something about seeing him excelling at the thing he's meant to do. It makes me jealous and proud at the same time.
I'm ready to watch him all night when someone bumps into me. An older woman, in her 40s or 50s. She's short with a muscular frame and a sharp black suit.
"Sorry, sweetheart. I thought you were one of Mal's friends. I can't keep up with these boys." She offers her hand. "Alessandra Rodriguez. I handle all this shit." She motions to the venue. "Booking, touring, dealing with Mal's constant requests."
"Bella Chase. Nice to meet you." I shake her hand.
She looks to me then to Joel then back to me. "You married the drummer, huh?"
"I did."
"And it's sticking?"
"Oh. Well. I, um…"
"I wish it was none of my business sweetheart, but these fucking artists and they're fucking feelings. They make every little thing my business. I need to know if the boy is going to be canceling shows because he's devastated. Musicians are always listening to their hearts instead of their bottom lines, running of to Maui or skipping recording sessions because they have to look for inspiration in some model's cunt." She just stops herself from rolling her eyes. "I'm sure you're used to it."
I nod like I am.
"You have a minute, sweetheart? I could use some help putting out a fire."
I like to help. And I need a distraction from the feeling whirling around my stomach.
I'm jealous of my husband.
