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He sang another song, a beautiful ballad about a love worth waiting for. Although she enjoyed the lyrics, she knew only few people were fortunate enough to find that kind of love. As soon as the last note faded away, the man she’d seen Monte talking to came out onto the stage.
“Is everybody enjoying the show so far?” Thunderous applause and screams followed. He waited a few seconds before continuing. “Tonight, we have a special treat. At the conclusion of the show, two of you will be invited backstage to meet the band and get autographs and pictures with Monte.” More shouts followed, as did a drumroll. He shook the bag in his hand, then pulled out a slip of paper. “The lucky winners are seated at table fourteen, seats C and D. At the end of the show, please proceed to the door at the left of the stage and present your ticket stubs.”
Karen screamed again. Janae thought she’d really gone around the bend this time.
“Janae, did you hear that? Two people are going backstage after the show.”
“Yeah, okay. Calm down. People are staring,” Janae whispered, glancing around.
“Girl, didn’t you hear the table and seats?” She took the ticket stub out of her purse. “Look. We’re the ones going backstage.”
Janae gasped sharply, whipped her head around to find Monte’s eyes waiting. A slight grin curved his mouth. She arched an eyebrow.
By the time the concert ended, she was a nervous wreck. Her palms had dampened, and her heart thundered in her chest. How in the world could she get through another encounter with him? Never had she felt such sensations from a simple touch in her entire life. Karen, on the other hand, couldn’t stop bouncing in her seat.
“Ooh, I can’t wait to be up close and personal with Monte. Rich milk chocolate skin, dark brown eyes that seem like they can see clear to your soul, sexy, full lips framed by that goatee. And let’s not forget that X-rated body—over six feet of rock...hard...muscle. Can you imagine what it would feel like to run your hands all over that body?”
“Um, Karen, what about Andre? You know, your boyfriend.”
Karen waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s go. The crowd is emptying out.”
Janae sighed, but followed her to the side door where the same man who had made the announcement greeted them.
He checked their ticket stubs, then smiled. “Please come in. My name is Donovan Wright.” He shook their hands and gestured them up the steps where he introduced them to the band members and, finally, to Monte.
Following Karen’s lead, Janae politely shook each of their hands, but when it came time to shake Monte’s hand, she hesitated. Go ahead, girl, and shake the man’s hand. It was probably just a fluke, she chastised herself. As soon as their hands touched, she felt it again. She tried to pull her hand back, but he tightened his grip.
The way he stared at her confirmed that (1) she hadn’t imagined the electricity between them, and (2) he felt it also—it was as real as the man standing in front of her.
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss...?”
“Simms. Janae Simms,” she answered softly.
“Janae. I like that.” He gestured to two chairs. “Why don’t you ladies have a seat?”
The band members drifted out to the restaurant area until only Donovan remained. “I’m going to get a drink from the bar. Can I get you ladies something?” he asked.
Janae declined.
“Actually, I have to go to the ladies’ room, so I’ll follow you out. Be right back, Janae,” Karen said.
Janae noted the amusement on her friend’s face. Her eyes offered a silent plea, but Karen merely smiled, then sailed out behind Donovan. Her gaze swept over the small space crowded with instruments, cases and wires. When she turned back, Monte sat studying her as if he were trying to figure something out.
He leaned back in his chair, stroked his goatee and stared at her so long she became uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat. “Do you do this often?”
He continued to stare.
“Maybe I should be flattered or something, but I’m not some groupie.” She stood, adding softly, “This was a bad idea. I think I should go.”
He jumped up from his chair. “Wait,” he said, coming to stand in front of her. “No, I don’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“You asked if I do this often. I’m assuming you meant invite women backstage. The answer is no. In fact, I’ve never, ever done this before.”
“As popular as you are, you really expect me to believe that?”
“Honestly. I’ve never liked the groupie scene, so no one has ever been allowed back here in all the eight years I’ve been touring. We do all of the signings in the lobby.”
