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Dismayed by the violence of his feelings, he’d taken a couple of steps back to compose himself as he’d wrestled with a near overwhelming urge to kidnap Caitlin after the shoot and take her back to his hotel room. That was when his imagination had gone into overdrive.
Groaning, he took another swig of beer and glared at the television as the thought of yet another cold shower made him want to grab the offending equipment and throw it out the window. That would be a coup for the press…the band manager at the centre of a scandal with his model ex-wife a few years ago drawing attention once again with a demonstration of typically ‘rock star’ behaviour in a hotel room.
Irritably dismissing the thought, Jake brought his attention back to Caitlin. She had yet again done them proud that night, her sexy, heaven-sent voice alternately whipping up the crowd or innocently seducing them, her vocals melding perfectly with the band’s tight, rich sound. In just three short weeks she’d learned more, given more, and was shaping up into more of a professional than some people in the business he’d known for years. He might be biased, but Jake knew they were onto something good.
But if he didn’t touch her again soon he would lose his mind. That was if he hadn’t lost it already.
He stretched out his hand for the telephone next to the bed. He could at least talk to her, tell her… Tell her what, exactly? That he was going crazy just thinking about her? That he was desperate to hold her and demonstrate in no uncertain terms just how much he desired her?
He let the receiver clatter noisily back onto its rest. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t put Caitlin in such an untenable position. He’d just have to find some other way of working off all his nervous energy. Was that the correct term for a raging libido these days?
With a humourless smile, he drained the bottle of beer dry, then stood up and threw it into a nearby wastepaper bin. Then he reached for his jacket and slammed out through the door without even pausing to switch off the TV.
* * *
The jarring sound of a bell ringing right next to her ear had Caitlin burying her face into her lilac-coloured pillow in a bid to shut the noise out. It must be someone’s car alarm going off down the street—or a fire drill, perhaps. Her mind played games with the sound, encouraging her to carry on sleeping. Someone would see to it soon, she thought vaguely.
Only all of a sudden she was wide awake and scrambling to sit up as it finally registered that it was the phone beside her bed that was ringing. Clamping the receiver to her ear, she impatiently pushed her hair away from her face and squinted at the glowing green digits blinking back at her from the alarm clock…
Two-thirty a.m.? What the…?
‘Hello?’
‘Caitlin. Were you asleep?’
Jake. At the sound of that gravelly bass voice her heartbeat accelerated like a rabbit being chased by a fox.
‘What’s the matter? Is anything wrong?’
Had something happened to him? Was he hurt? In trouble? Caitlin’s fertile imagination went into overdrive.
‘Nothing’s wrong. I’m downstairs in the lobby. Can you come down?’
‘It’s half past two in the morning!’
‘I’m quite aware of the time.’
God, it was so good to hear his voice.
‘Why? I mean, why do you want me to come downstairs at this time of night?’ Even as she asked the question she was swinging her legs out of bed and seeking out the jeans and warm red sweater she’d folded onto a chair.
‘Because I want to see you.’
His tone immediately conveyed his impatience, making his statement sound more like an order than a request.
Caitlin frowned, ‘You could see me in the morning after breakfast. I don’t make much sense until I’ve had my cup of tea.’
‘Damn it, Caitlin! Just put some clothes on and get down here, will you?’
Jake hung up on her, leaving her staring at the telephone as though it had suddenly sprouted a beak and a couple of wings.
Shaking herself out of the daze she was in, she hurried into the bathroom. Splashing her face with some cold water, she quickly brushed her teeth, then combed her dishevelled hair with her fingers. There was no time to even think about applying some make-up. At any rate, what did he expect? It was two-thirty in the morning, she was tired and dazed—and…if she admitted it…more hopeful than she had a right to be considering he’d kept her at a deliberate distance for the past two days.
