Page 4 of One Weekend in Los Angeles

Most women I met at concerts had a level of aggression akin to a pit bull with a raw steak in front of them. But she gently swayed with the music, her bright eyes sparkling with the genuine joy of simply experiencing the moment.

My next two songs were electric as I let the sound of the music feed my soul. My voice was on point, my band completely in sync. I loved the way my fingers strummed over the guitar and played the chorus. I knew I was experiencing the high of the sprint to the finish line. Another ninety minutes, and I could celebrate with my band and start a long-overdue vacation.

As I finished my next song, I glanced back toward Ollie, but he was engaged in animated conversation with the woman who was pointing at her phone, tears visible on her pretty face even from up here on stage.

Fuck this. Nobody cried at my concerts. After the end of the song, I shouted over to the stage manager. “I need a spotlight.”

“Where you want it, Deacon?”

“Left center, third row. Lady in the blue leather outfit next to the guy in the plum suit.”

“On it.”

The spotlight caught her off guard, and as the lights went up on me, I stepped closer to the edge of the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have a special guest tonight. Some of you might recognize her.”

I nodded to the two security guys in front. “Bring her up, will you?”

She stood there stunned, but then Ollie took her phone and gave her a little push. Gotta say, never had a woman need to be shoved toward me before.

As soon as she came up and was featured on the big screens, the crowd started to get loud. “Any of you know Andrea Foreman from the City of Angels?”

The crowd went nuts. Far be it from me to judge reality television, but the magnitude of my fans’ recognition of her took me aback. I wasn’t the only one, for her entire face turned red.

As she came closer, I realized she was more beautiful than I’d seen from afar. Not in an enhanced way, but in her natural beauty. For a moment all I could do was stare until I remembered everyone was waiting.

Time to play up the audience. “You know what I heard, Andrea? I heard you’ve shed some dead weight recently, and are newly single.”

The response was deafening. And I even managed to coax a tug of her lips.

“What do you think, Los Angeles? Do you believe I could sweet-talk a kiss from her?”

The crowd lost their fucking minds. Even my band mates, most of whom I’d been with over the last decade, stood there with wide eyes at the unexpected reaction. Now it was time to deliver. The question was whether I had a willing participant. Once again, not something I’d ever had to worry about before now. Flipping off the hot mic, I asked, “Are you okay?”

She let out a long breath. “I thought you were just going to smile at me or something from the stage.”

My grin came easily. “Or something. You okay with a kiss on the cheek?” It wasn’t my intention to make her uncomfortable, and it would be cute for the crowd.

There was enough hesitation to chip at my ego, but at the same time fueling me with the excitement of an unfamiliar challenge. She gazed out into the stadium, unintentionally playing it up, with the anticipation of the moment taking on a life of its own.

Then she turned, leaned toward me, and pecked my cheek.

Of course I grabbed my heart and played it up as though it was the best thing to ever happen to me.

But the audience wasn’t having the cop-out. Like a heartbeat, they started chanting, “Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.”

“I don’t think that did it for them. You okay with giving them another kiss on the cheek or really give them what they want?”

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint the fans.” Her lopsided grin made me do the same.

“No, we wouldn’t.”

Stepping into her, I framed her face, aware of the way the entire stadium was watching with bated breath. My gaze locked on hers, and I moved to touch my mouth to hers. I’d intended to do a quick brush of the lips, but suddenly my thoughts were gone. The crowd faded into a distant background, and instead all I could focus on was the fullness of her bottom lip as I took it between my teeth. She opened her mouth to gasp, and I took advantage, swiping my tongue inside.

It should’ve ended there. It was more than enough to satisfy the fans, but not for me. As if a live wire was attached to my spine sending zaps of energy to the tips of my toes, I instantly craved her.

Banding my free arm around her waist, I hauled her closer, now aware how her body was shaking. Or shit, maybe it was mine. Because this kiss had suddenly taken a sharp turn into dangerous territory. The type that had me wanting her to wrap her legs around me and walk her into my dressing room where I would take her against the wall.

But I suddenly remembered where I was and the fact this was intended to be a cute stunt, not a full-on make-out session. Pulling back took a monumental effort, but I forced myself to do so.