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He had a nerve! It was at Jake’s suggestion the previous night that Caitlin had come round to Mike’s to get some guitar practice in.
‘You can’t just walk in here and tell me what to do.’ She defiantly stayed where she was, even though her heart was beating like a jackhammer. Blue Sky’s lead guitarist was staring down at his feet as if they were suddenly the most interesting sight in the world. No moral support there, she thought irritably.
‘I thought I’d just done exactly that.’ Lifting a mocking eyebrow, Jake was unimpressed. ‘Now, if you want to continue to be a member of this band, I’d seriously consider doing what you’re told and being quick about it. We’re driving to London, and at this rate we won’t get there before one o’clock. That hardly gives us enough time.’
‘Enough time for what?’
Clearly mad at him, Caitlin finally got to her feet, gripping her precious guitar by its neck as if it was Jake’s neck she’d like to throttle. Her pretty face was flushed with emotion, her bewitching emerald eyes spitting fire, and in that instant Jake experienced a longing for her so deep that it hurt.
He knew he was only being short-tempered because he was furious with himself for wanting her so badly. Tough. Life could be unfair like that. If there had been the remotest possibility that they could find another singer even half as good as Caitlin, then he would seriously have considered letting her go. The band and Rick would undoubtedly give him hell but, damn it, if it was a choice between confronting their rage and losing his sanity then he knew which one he’d plump for.
The sheets on his bed had been a crumpled mess when he’d woken this morning. If he’d slept two hours he’d be surprised. It had been a hell of a long time since any woman had got Jake in such a stew—not since Jodie, and that had been six years ago. But even at the height of his attraction to Jodie it had never been like this. This mindless, helpless, heated longing that he felt for Caitlin was driving him slowly crazy.
If she had been any other woman but Blue Sky’s new lead singer he wouldn’t have hesitated in succumbing to his carnal desires. But Caitlin Ryan was strictly off-limits. Hadn’t he said so to himself when he’d first heard her sing?
‘Jake?’ When he didn’t immediately reply, but levelled his compelling blue gaze straight at her in warning, Caitlin had to suppress the worrying impulse to leave, to put herself out of the line of fire. Why was he so furious with her? What had she done to make him so disagreeable?
‘You need some clothes,’ he explained grudgingly. ‘Working clothes. The band plays its first date in London next week and we need to kit you out. I’ve arranged to meet a stylist I’ve worked with for years…someone I trust who will help guide you. Her name is Ronnie. Rick has had to drive up north on business, so today’s a good opportunity to sort things out. Now, go and get your coat…please.’
Driving a weary hand through his tousled mane, Jake looked as if his patience was being sorely tested. In the meantime, Caitlin’s mind was racing. He was taking her to buy clothes? That would mean she’d have to parade herself in front of him, not to mention this stylist, whilst getting hot and bothered, trying on garments in cramped changing rooms and no doubt feeling woefully inadequate when something didn’t look right or didn’t fit.
Was it really necessary that he go with her? And did she really need a professional stylist to help her choose the right clothes? Couldn’t Jake simply trust her own judgement as far as dressing herself went?
One look into that arrogant male visage and she had her answer. She could stand there and argue until they got old and Jake would still insist on going with her.
‘I hate and detest shopping,’ she said, before turning on her heel and grabbing her coat off the back of the pink velour armchair. ‘And if you think for one second that I’m pouring myself into some horrible skin-tight catsuit for the sake of this band then you’ve got another think coming!’
And with that she shouldered angrily past Jake out into the hallway—but not before suffering the added indignity of hearing the two men she’d left behind chuckling between them in some ancient patronising ritual of amused male bonding.
