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CHAPTER SEVEN
“You told himyes, didn’t you?”
Blanca’s words aren’t her usual blend of motivational speech and galpal chit-chat. Even now, seven minutes before midnight, they’re a bark of complete command. My phone, braced to my ear, might as well be an earbud inside my battle helmet, filled with my battalion leader’s command.
“I didn’t tell him anything. Not yet, at least. I mean, this is nuts, right? Just tell me it’s nuts.”
I fidget a finger along the fancy filigree atop the patio rail near the pool, where I’ve gone to think over what Darian’s just propositioned. And yes, proposition is exactly the right syntax. What the hell else am I supposed to call it?
And who the hell else was I supposed to call about it?
Most of my “friends” in the industry have stopped picking up my calls. And Nina, while still right here in my heart, isn’t exactly available to sit for a long chat.
Not that I’d even have time for that.
Darian was blatantly clear about our time crunch, if not a lot of anything else. The precise words he used were desperate and imperative. Not a ton of room to misinterpret those—nor the part that if we weren’t on the road to Burbank Airport soon, there’d be an ugly price to pay for our hesitation.
Ugly. Now there’s the descriptor that can be bent in a few different ways—unless someone happens to me, just a half hour ago, when listening to Darian use the word. He didn’t leave a shred of ambiguity on the figurative table, to the point that I had to excuse myself from it. To the man’s credit, he nodded in understanding. And has given me twice the deliberation time for which I originally pleaded.
It’s not going to last much longer.
And I’m no closer to determining what I should do.
It felt like pulling out my own fingernails just to decide on dialing Blanca for this spill. Minus everything that happened sans our clothes, of course. Originally I had Dr. Starr’s number queued and ready to go, but I vacillated forever about jabbing the green button for my therapist. I don’t kid myself about why I went for Blanca’s line instead. My shrink would’ve told me to run out of here like a bear is giving chase, for every reason I’ve already brought up for myself.
None of this is good for me.
Not the getting-naked-with-a-superstar-god part.
Not the falling-asleep-on-his-couch part.
Definitelynot the let-me-think-about-hopping-on-a-plane with him part.
Doc Starr would’ve told me everything I need to hear. As in a long string of adamant nos. The irked but loving kicks back to the straight and narrow. The broccolis in my healthy new mentality.
Broccoli is good. Broccoli is good. Broccoli is good.
But sugar is so much better.
Especially the naughty gold kind in Darian’s eyes. And the molten fondant that flows from his stroking fingers. And the lingering kisses he uses on all my sugary places…
And I Ohhh, damn it. I want the whole dessert buffet. Every taste and lick and moan-worthy bite.
And I want to be his in return.
You’re a banquet, Quinn Lemarr…
“Of course it’s nuts.” Blanca’s back in my ear, and none too soon. She’s still in master sergeant mode, and I’m still really needing it. “Since when is a musical genius supposed to be rational? And what is that any more? Pffft. Rational is as tired as tie-dye. But you know what isn’t tired?”
“Uh, kitten heels?” Because if she dare orders me to ditch mine, the woman will be dealing with a mutiny from the closet office.
“Darian fucking Z, mi preciosa. That’s what. And if he’s decided that his chakras can’t live without yours, then you swing by my place, borrow some cute outfits and get on that plane with him. Sit through the meditations, eat the macrobiotics, drink the Zen tea, and make sure this retreat is everything he needs to come back recharged and refreshed.”
I move my finger to the top of the railing. Start tapping it to avoid a full-body squirm. “Okay, were you listening to me before? I don’t think this is a temporary glitch for the guy, B.”
“Of course it’s temporary.” She interrupts herself to air kiss some mover and shaker who’s strolled by. “Permanent only applies for dying or witness protection. Now it’s up to you to convince him of that. He’s nowhere near his cusp! The world needs more, not less, of his sexy face and pretty songs. More of his body wouldn’t hurt either. From what I’ve glimpsed so far, his physique is f-i-n-e.”
“Oh my God.” Fortunately I slip a little laugh onto the end of it.
