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Summer couldn’t yet say she was wrong—at least about the emotional ruin part—but it didn’t matter. She’d finally started going after her dreams, and she couldn’t turn back now.
“New guy?” Cass asked. “No, I’m not jealous. Not even a little. Okay, I’m lying.”
Summer laughed. “Night, Cass. And goodbye. See you tomorrow.” She depressed the end button, turning into a solid wall of muscle bearing a T-shirt that warned about a Vampire Weekend. She looked up, finally connecting gazes with the surprisingly unamused subject of the bulk of her thoughts for the last two weeks. Her chest went tight. “You again.”
So much for not telling him where she was appearing. Hell, she hadn’t even returned any of his many, many phone calls and texts. Not that it seemed to matter. Bloodhounds looked like shoddy investigators compared to Chase All-Knowing Dixon.
Right now, Dick for short.
“Me.” Chase clamped his arms over his broad chest and lifted a brow in that paternalistic way he had that really turned her thongs inside out. “Orgasming, hmm? That’s what you say on the phone in a public place?” He didn’t give her time to respond before he seized her elbow and propelled her to a shadowy alcove not far from where Kyle had resumed warming up. She’d lay odds poor Kyle was going to be interrupted again anytime now, probably from the screams or the bloodshed. Perhaps both. “Also, now that I see you do, in fact, know how to operate a phone, I’d appreciate you returning my calls.”
“There were too many. You jammed the switchboard.”
“Right. Bet you have them all saved.” He snatched her phone out of her hand and scrolled to her voicemail, his big thumbs surprisingly agile. His mouth stretched into a tight line as he held her cell to his ear while his voice boomed out from the speaker.
She rolled her eyes and looked away. “I saved them to respond to later.”
“When? After the show?”
He knew her too well. “How did you find out where I’d be performing?”
“I have my ways.” He handed her back the phone, that eyebrow still deliberately arched. “I’ll be here tonight through the show. After it’s over, I’ll drive you back home.”
“I don’t need a chaperone.”
“Good. Chaperoning’s not part of my standard fee.” His gaze drifted down her attire, his focus seeming to snag momentarily above her stomach. Sweet Mary, could he actually have noticed she had breasts? He’d had a chance to see them pretty clearly a couple of weeks ago on the couch, but he hadn’t acted particularly impressed at that time.
Massive boner aside, though she figured that had come from simple morning biology and not her smokin’ body.
“So back to the orgasm you were discussing on the phone,” he said pleasantly. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder in Kyle’s direction. “Don’t tell me you and the banjo dude swap fingering lessons between sets? Nice guitar, by the way. Glad to see he’s not a one-instrument pony.”
Kyle, upon glancing up and discovering he was being visually dissected by a broody, brawny baseball player, faltered on the strings. He frowned and lifted his hand in a half wave, as if he recognized Chase from The Platinum Club. Or maybe he was trying to make friends with the alien life form? Either way, Chase wasn’t having it. His mouth curled into a sneer.
A very sexy sneer, but a sneer nonetheless.
“Kyle, this is Chase. He’s one of my childhood playmates,” she said in her most saccharine sweet voice. Even without looking at him, she could tell by Chase’s instantly rigid posture he didn’t appreciate her assessment of their relationship. Well, too bad. Let him stay in Queens where he belonged and stop nosing into her business. “Chase, this is Kyle, my number one string man.” Kyle was in a committed relationship with his hotter-than-Hades boyfriend, but Chase could take that statement any way he wanted to.
She strode away without waiting for a response from either of them. It was time to get ready for the show, which meant warm-ups in the back hallway nearest the exit where the acoustics were the best. It was also humid as hell back there, and the proximity to the bathrooms wasn’t ideal, but a girl had to get her sang on where she could.
Chase followed. She could practically feel his warm, minty breath on the back of her neck, causing a shiver she couldn’t control. But she picked her chosen spot in the hallway anyway, closed her eyes and opened her mouth.
She went through the scales, focusing on breathing from her diaphragm and exerting the muscles in her stomach until they burned. Once wasn’t enough. She went through them methodically for several minutes, ignoring the footsteps that clomped past her and the occasional whispers or muttered comments. The whistle she assumed was aimed her way made her smile, but she didn’t open her eyes. This was her job, and she took it seriously.
Besides, if she didn’t look around, she couldn’t see Chase watching her. Evaluating. Probably finding her lacking.
To him, she was nothing more than a wild little girl on the run who couldn’t take care of herself. Nothing quite so hot as feeling like you needed to hold out a burp cloth for somebody. And in her case, he’d yet to even stop supporting her head. She hated behaving like a teenager stuck in an endless tantrum loop, but God, he pushed her buttons.
Especially that big, pulsing one between her legs.
Oh no, oops, that was just her favorite fantasy. Except he didn’t use his fingers. He used those delicious full lips, always one twist of derision away from a smirk. That conceited expression shouldn’t have been a turn-on. The breath she’d carefully conserved for her scales also shouldn’t have immediately wheezed out of her upon turning her head and catching him staring.
Shoulda, coulda, nothing. He did it for her. Always had, always would.
He cocked his head and braced one sneakered foot against the wall, his green eyes barely glittering slashes in the dim light of the hall. “You know how birds sing no matter how small their cage?” he asked, his voice sandpaper rough. “That’s you. Your voice is huge.”
“I have to project in case the acoustics aren’t—”
“It’s a compliment.”
