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“I can’t believe you remember.”
He gave her a lopsided smile. “It was my first kiss too.”
“Really!” She gasped, her hand flying to her throat. “But you were the school hunk. There’s no way that was your first kiss.”
“I was shy too you know.” He quirked his shoulder. It was what it was. He wasn’t going to deny it. Especially with her.
She leaned forward and brushed her fingertips lightly across his lips; they parted under her touch. “And I made your lip bleed.”
“I already knew love hurt.” Cornball but true.
He captured her hand and brought it back to his lips to kiss. When they danced a second time, it was easier to stay in the present. He held her closer this time, worried less about where he moved her, focussed on falling into her eyes.
She said, “Aren’t you going to ask me your last question, the one about a home run?”
“No. I don’t think I need to.”
“Oh.” Harry’s mouth was a pout of disappointment, begging to be explored. Rand pulled her closer and whispered against her cheek, “I already have the answer.”
She stretched back from him. “Oh, you do! So what would that be then?”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think I have a very good chance of stealing home.”
The fingers resting lightly on his shoulder fisted his shirt. When he brought his face close again, Harry held very still. When he brought his lips to hers, he felt her bones melt under his hands, and a spark of energy and light ignite inside his chest.
He said, “Let’s restart the clock. First base,” and kissed her again, like he was intending to fuse their lips permanently.
20. Following the Band
The hotel gym was blissfully empty when Jake arrived. He wanted to sweat out the last traces of the Zanect and keep an appointment with a behavioural therapist before he did Rand a favour by accompanying Rielle to a couple of media interviews. He wasn’t sure which was going to be harder on his heart, talking about his fear of heights or being alone with a woman who’d delighted in bringing them on.
For stars as big as Ice Queen, they kept their professional entourage scaled to miniature. They liked it simple and under their own control, bringing with them only a skeleton staff of technical people who’d bedded in with Jake’s team. There was no trailing cloud of wardrobe or makeup artists, no phalanx of publicists, instrument techs or other helpers and minders, and the most discrete security Jake had ever seen, or rather not seen, in action. Rand had explained they’d tried it the other way and hated the intrusiveness. They preferred to do their own fetch and carry than live in a circus twenty-four seven.
Rand had taken off with Harry for the day and had asked, well, pretty much begged him to go with Rielle. He had the impression Rielle didn’t know Rand had flaked out, which would make things interesting.
He was sweating a river on the treadmill, old Silverchair playing through his headphones. His plan was a half hour run, fifteen minutes of rowing, then a quick swim. Daniel Johns was singing The Greatest View, when a trim-figured blonde stepped onto the cross trainer in front of the row of treadmills. She paused to set the machine. Then she started to pump the pedals and pull back on the handles. She wore short skin-hugging black lycra pants and a matching singlet top. A sweatband on her wrist was an Eighties touch. The minute she started her workout, Jake abandoned plans to move to the rowing machine. This view would do just fine.
He watched the blonde’s hips shift, her leg muscles tighten and the sway in her tiny waist. This was good. Just what he needed. Someone new and real to replace the images of Rielle burned fresh across his retinas.
When Rielle had flung open the door to the gym and saw Jake, she nearly did a complete three-sixty and exited the way she’d come in. He’d glanced over, but he didn’t seem to register anything other than general awareness of another person in the room.
If she stayed in front of him and didn’t speak, she could probably get away with it. He wouldn’t place her without her armour: without the hairpieces, her prosthetic front teeth, the coloured contacts and the makeup. And with her blonde hair slicked back, and the sweatband plus a simple ring, her tattoos were hidden.
No one but Rand ever saw her without her armour. The fact she could step out of being Rielle Mainline, rock star, and become someone else was her sanity. The whole being recognised thing never bothered Rand, and he could slip back to his old hair colour and go underground if he wanted to. Rand didn’t need armour, that’s what he called her look, but she couldn’t face the world without it.
Ten minutes into her workout, when the handles of the cross trainer beside her started to swing, things got tricky. What did he think he was doing? There were five cross trainers and no reason why he would need to choose the one right next to hers unless he intended to do something more than work out. He was definitely creeping her out. She was about to bark at him to back off when he said, “Hey, we’ve met before.”
Without looking at him she said, “No.”
“Yeah, we have. In the gym. At the Adelaide Hilton.”
Rielle fiddled with her ear bud, hoping it would give the impression she couldn’t hear him.
He said, “Are you stalking me?” and laughed, letting go the handle closest and angling his body to look at her. Surprised, she glanced at him, catching his warm brown eyes as they swept over her face, full of mischief. “Oh yeah, we’ve definitely met before. I wasn’t likely to forget you.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Nope. I always remember girls who nearly kill me.”
