Blurring the Lines (2 page)

His smile looked more genuine this time. “Now we can get started for real.”

Chris knew it was a big deal to let him go through her writing. Every time he’d introduced a new song to the band, part of him had panicked, but they always seemed to make it work.

And for her… Just a little teasing seemed to help her relax.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was in the presence of a pretty woman that he should definitely not be flirting with. Max had never laid ground rules before. Not like these anyway.

Chris flirted with the women who did his hair and picked his clothes, and invited girls backstage when he wanted to spend the night with someone. This was different.
Completely
different. And not just because he was sober. He glanced at Corinne as he flipped through the red tabbed pages. He wanted to give her a more-than-friendly smile or ask her to slide in closer to him on the couch because that’s how he was around women, but she wasn’t someone he was supposed to do that with. How had he made it to his age without knowing how to sit with a beautiful woman and not flirt?

Saying thank you a million times throughout the day wouldn’t work, but…
Maybe if he paid closer attention to the songs he’d get somewhere with his music
.

Her hands sat clasped together, her knuckles lightened with the pressure, and he smiled pausing at one of the red-tabbed songs. “You wrote
Booty Back
?” He chuckled a little.

Corinne shrugged. “Paid the bills.”

“How do I
not
know you, if you wrote this?” he asked.

Her face turned stoic. “Because I don’t want people to know me.”

“So how do you get jobs?” Chris sat back, leaving the binder on the table, until he could see her face through the masses of dark curls.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She turned her head just enough that some of the dark hair fell away
from her face and he had to remind himself not to reach out and brush a few stray curls from her cheek.

She’s not a woman. She’s a lyricist. And she’s hands-off.

Still, he was curious about the woman who didn’t leave her mark on her songs. Someone Max knew but that he’d never heard of. “You and Max go way back.”

“Don’t dig, Chris.” Her voice was calm but the meaning was clear. If he wanted to know her, it wasn’t going to happen.

It was a harsh reminder that whatever kind of attraction he was feeling, she definitely wasn’t.

He laughed a little to himself because he couldn’t remember the last time his status hadn’t gotten him some measure of preferential treatment. This was probably one of those good-for-him experiences, even though he wished he could relax into it.

“Now you’re into the songs you can use.” She pointed. “You pay for the whole song whether or not you butcher it.”

“So, is that why you don’t want your name on them?” Once the words escaped, he wondered if she’d reprimand him for questioning or let it slide.

She laughed a little. “Part of it.”

Chris locked in on a song and the words flowed. Hit him perfectly. Like she’d gotten in his head and written what he couldn’t. “Damn.”

“What?”

“Ever read something and think - how have I not written that?”

A faint smile touched her full lips. “With a few of yours.”

His head snapped toward her in surprise. “Mine?”

“
Darkness Passes, Floating, Smoother Waters
…” She nodded and her eyes stayed on him just a fraction longer than they should have. For the first time there was an honest, open and maybe even soft look on her face. He knew in that moment that if she were to open up to him, she’d seem even bigger and more amazing. Her brown eyes were un-flinching, making him wonder how pissed Max would be if he did push the boundaries a bit.

He felt himself lean toward her before sucking in a breath, sitting back, and breaking out of the moment.

“Well, thanks. It’s always nice when people like the stuff that doesn’t get the same play time as the rest of it.” It was actually amazing. Rarely had his favorite songs been the ones to hit the charts.

“Not for lack of good lyrics.” She smiled widely and there was something distinctly childlike about the way she
tucked her knees to her chest, but something much more mature about how guarded she was. He knew her past had to be a fascinating one, and he wondered if he’d ever hear any of it. A feeling of loss pinched at him—as if he mourned the chance of learning more about this woman he just met.

Her phone buzzed and she jumped before sliding it out of her pocket. A wide smile lit up her face. “Sorry. Gotta get this one.”

“It’s fine.” Chris gestured and she trotted into the small booth.

He tried to look as if he was reading, but strained to listen, to find a puzzle piece to add to the very small pile of who Corinne was.

“...I’m home tomorrow...miss you too…”

He tuned out after that. No wonder she wasn’t at all interested. Of course. He hadn’t even looked for a ring. Hadn’t thought to ask Max if she was attached. Hell, from the hallway, before he saw her, he’d thought she was fifty.

She slid her phone in her pocket and picked up the guitar on her way back to the couch. He liked that she picked up his favorite—the large birds eye maple Guild he played most often.

“Home is far for you?” he asked.

“Small town in Washington. Not too far from Seattle but up in the mountains and trees.”

Chris took a quick scan of her hands. No ring. “Your boyfriend must miss you.”

She cocked a brow as her small fingers moved gently up and down the neck of the guitar in a scaled melody that felt familiar. “You’re digging again, Christian Meyer.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. It’s what I do. I like to get to know people, and the questions just sort of come out.” And damn she was good, answering without answering. She must really not like him.

“And maybe I’m ridiculously private, but I like it that way.” Her voice was so smooth, but with an edge of what he’d heard in her songs. Strength.

A beat passed between them along with what he felt was some kind of understanding that what they were doing with music was who they were, and nothing more. “Then we’ll k
eep it that way.” Even if it would kill him a little to let her remain a mystery.

TWO

Three hours passed in a blink. They laughed over pizza, and then dug in for several more hours of writing. Corinne never expected this trip to feel so easy. Everything was supposed to be awkward and stilted so she’d be dying to get back home and she...wasn’t.

Instead she watched him flick his hair, and watched his eyes dart away from her when he brought up rehab. Watched the way his fingers grasped the pencil and how fast he wrote when a phrase struck him. The faint smile that played on his mouth when he fit the puzzle pieces of the chords, melody, and lyrics together. And the wide smile after a successful run through of a verse.

Once they’d starting changing her lyrics, they hadn’t been able to stop. Their instincts were similar and they continued to take turns passing the guitar and notepad back and forth. The more relaxed she felt around him,
the more their sentences overlapped in excitement, and the more the words they chose matched up. And yes, the more closely she continued to watch the little things, like how his brows tightened and he bit his lower lip when he concentrated. How the leather straps on his wrist moved when he twisted his arm just right… The list of things she was noticing was getting long enough to fill a song. She was definitely dangerous waters. At least her visit was short.

Max
, and whoever the sound guy had been, were long gone. Once Chris picked a few songs he liked, she’d played her version for him and then he’d take the guitar and turn the song into something that felt like an even mix of Corinne’s folk roots and alternative-rock Kincaid--a feat she would have thought was impossible before she’d sat down with him.

His quiet voice as he strummed through another song warmed her, and she sat back, exhausted but excited. The muscles in his arms flexed as he ran up the riff he’d been working on, and if she
had
been ready to get her heart trampled on again, he would have been a good candidate. Maybe a perfect one. Maybe it was stupid for her to ask that they be nothing more than collaboration partners. Maybe they could be friends.

Her eyes trailed down his back as he leaned forward. The thin fabric clung to his shoulders, his muscles,
and his lean sides... He bent forward a little further, revealing that yes, his back was probably a massive work of tattooed art.
Damn
.

No. Friendship with a guy like him would definitely not work.

She wasn’t going there. Not with Christian freaking Meyer. Her eyes floated back up his body of their own accord. She’d connected with him far too well to let him in on anything past her job. One thing she knew about herself was that once she started to fall, she fell hard and fast.

The moment he finished the song, he turned to face her with a wide smile. A celebrity smile. Perfection.

Panic fluttered through her chest, and she stood so fast she nearly fell forward. “I need to step outside for some air.”

“Can I join you?” he asked as he set the guitar aside.

There was an urgent look in his eyes that she recognized from high school. The moment when you scramble in the hopes to get a few moments alone. Her chest swelled that he might feel something for her, and she internally cringed at the same thing. People often seemed to give her conflicting emotions, but not like this. He shouldn’t be looking at her that way, and at the same time, she watched him stand in one easy move. She thought about his voice and the warmth of his studio, of
him
…

Maybe it had just been too long since she’d been with someone. Was that her problem?

What if it was casual…? No strings…?

No
, she told herself again.
No, no, no, no.

She thought she gave Chris a nod to say he could follow as she moved for the door. Coming to California was supposed to be about making some money and returning a favor to a friend, not noticing the exact person she shouldn’t.

Corinne took a deep breath of the warm night air and Chris stepped next to her, their arms brushing as they walked sending goose bumps across her skin.

“You must love it
out here,” she commented as she took in the surroundings. The small homes, the large homes, the expanse of beach in both directions. She had to loosen up. Calm her heart down. Get her ridiculous body’s reaction to him under control.

“I…” Chris paused long enough that she stopped and turned to face him. It was a mistake because the hint of vulnerability she’d seen earlier was back, reflected in his eyes from the scattered lights on the beach.
He fingered the leather cuffs on his wrist for a moment before dropping his arms.

“Thank you. For being here.” He pushed out a slow brea
th. “It’s hard. When you’re in every tabloid and gossip magazine, and you’re trying to do a good thing for yourself and your life… It’s just hard to put yourself in a position where your face will be spread across that mess again.”

Her chest folded in on itself as her past tried to force its way in. All the reasons she’d left. All the horrible, spiteful words from people who didn’t know her or her situation, splashed over newspapers, online gossip sites, Facebook...
Cameras everywhere she went. Nothing about that brief time in her life was kept as quiet as she’d wanted. But that was close to six years ago now. She’d changed. Become smarter.

“I totally get that,” she said quietly.

“You don’t know what you’ve done for me today. You can’t know. Really. Not unless you’ve lost your ability to write. The one thing that kept me sane disappeared. I just…” He swallowed once, his eyes still firmly on hers. “Thank you.”

Hurt and sympathy swelled in her throat as she watched Chris’ frown turn into a rueful smile. She felt herself lighten with him as he began to laugh.

“Man, things have changed for me, and I’m still trying to get a handle on it. On who I am without being high. Without the band. Life feels so very real for me right now, and I’m not always sure what to do with that.”

The desire to touch him raced through her as she read the emotion on his face and stepped closer. One night. Maybe she could allow herself that. It’s not like she’d ever see him after this. Maybe their connection was a good thing since there was no chance of it lasting. Maybe she was just trying to justify something her body wanted. Maybe that justification was enough.

She didn’t mean to move. Didn’t tell her hand to reach forward and pinch the bottom of his shirt. She stood, watching her hands against the fabric, not totally understanding how they got there.

Chris stepped closer, dipped his head down, and paused just shy of their lips coming together.
Just at that moment where the nearness blurred out everything else. “You’re missing someone from home?”

“Not like you think,” she whispered back. He must have overheard her conversation. He cared enough to ask. To stop her before either of them moved past that friendship point. But maybe they’d passed that point when she first watched him come in the room, her heart flipping over almost as fast as her stomach.

After spending the day with him, she knew that there was something cautious enough about Chris that he’d wait for her to make the first move. “I don’t…” she whispered, but couldn’t finish.

Heat spun through her as their lips came together. And then a frantic energy when she opened her mouth to kiss him more deeply. Once
. Enough to know that if she were able to let go, it would be worth it.

He squeezed her sides gently, his thumbs stroking the skin at the top of her pants. She knew she should step away. Knew it, but couldn’t find the willpower. Not yet. Chris’ mouth
moved against hers, matching her pressure.

Now. Step away now.

Instead her feet slid closer to him, and he responded again, wrapping his arms around her lower back and bringing them together. With the ache in her body, it took all her strength not to wrap her legs around his waist where they stood. Maybe… She’d paid Max back, and she wouldn’t be coming back. It was just now. That’s all. Nothing more. Nerves of anticipation skittered through her at the thought of him. His strong fingers tracing her body. The weight of his lean, strong form on top of her.

She broke their kiss and leaned back just far enough to see his face.

“One night,” she whispered. “It’s all I can do. I’m sure you’re good at that.”

His calloused finger touched her chin. “Don’t judge,” he chided as he touched his nose to hers. “My whole life is different now. Much more how it was before I became part of Kincaid—at least I want it to be.”

She let her hands touch his lower back as their lips came together again. She dug her fingers into his tight sides, and hoped she’d be able to go through with this. She had a feeling he’d make their night together worth it.

“We’ve been working all day.” He smiled as he stepped back,
taking her hands in his.

She smoothed her fingers over his
calluses as their hands rested together.

“Your call,” he said.
“We can have some fun together or I’ll get you a car to take you to your hotel. Or you’re more than welcome to take the guest room. Whatever you want.”

Her fingers shook in nerves and her heart fluttered in her chest. The knot that had formed low in her stomach moved down and she stepped closer to him again. “I’m not this girl. I want you to know that I’m not normally the girl who would—”

He nodded, closing the couple inch gap between them and sending another rush of heat through her as their stomachs and hips touched. “But it would be a waste to not use whatever’s been passing between us today, yes?”

“
Yes,” she agreed in a rush of breath.

His
hands knotted in the back of her shirt, his faint stubble rested on her cheek, and he held her so tightly her feet nearly came off the ground. It would definitely be a waste.

Of course Chris knew she wasn’t the kind of girl to ask for one night with someone. She just… She just wasn’t. He was going to catch hell from Max, but maybe Max wouldn’t find out.

Her arms snaked around his middle from behind as they walked up the two flights of stairs to his room. He couldn’t stop touching her beautiful skin, running his fingers over her forearms, enjoying the softness of her.

Corinne froze when they stepped into the vast master bedroom. A blond wooden floor and a bed surrounded on three sides by windows. He loved it, even though it sometimes felt too sparse. The few books on his nightstand didn’t do much to warm up the large room.

Chris stepped behind her, his turn to slide his hands around her stomach and kissed the top of her shoulder. “Privacy glass.”

Her eyes were wide on the small bits of light reflecting on the edge of the ocean. “The view. It’s…”

He’d seen the expanse of beach what felt like a hundred times before, but it was his first day with her. He traced her profile with his finger, starting at the top of her forehead and going over her fine nose, smooth lips, small chin… Every inch of her looked lickable, and he slid his hand over her jaw line, along the lines of her neck and collarbone, down between her breasts, stopping just at the button of her pants.

She leaned back into him letting out a soft sigh that started to fuzz out reality. This was something that hadn’t changed in his world. He was going to enjoy every second of being with her.

“Don’t stop there,” she whispered.

He slid open the button on her jeans and she faced him pushing her hands under his shirt.

“I guess our night starts now,” he said smiling.

She grinned, bit his chest lightly, and shoved his shirt over his head. “Our night definitely starts now.”

One of the benefits of being sober, he was realizing, was feeling Every. Single. Touch as her hands roamed his chest, shoulders and neck, followed by her mouth.

Chris led her to the bed and sat down, sliding open the drawer and dropping a couple condoms on the bed. “Just so it’s not awkward later.”

Corinne stepped between his legs, putting the top of her jeans level with his face. He kissed her stomach and tugged her jeans down a couple inches, but she stood rigid.

“I need to not be nervous.” Corinne let out a light chuckle.

He’d rather be the nice guy than screw up. “We don’t—”

“Stop trying to be
so careful and be the rock star, Chris.” She pushed out a breath. “I need this.”

He grabbed her around the waist and swung her onto his bed. His hands immediately went to her pants, tugging them down and
tracing the definition in her thighs and calves. She shivered as he ran his fingers up and down her legs, tracing up the inside of her thigh and stopping just before reaching smooth, black panties.

No way was he going to rush when he had all night, and probably
just
one night. He tasted her skin again and again, sliding his lips over her shoulders, up her neck, across her collarbone. He slid her bra off her arms, admiring every curve, every line of the perfectly toned body he’d imagined as they’d written that day. He slipped off his pants and hovered over her, still needing to know that she wanted this the way he did before moving forward.