Manipulated: a Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 3) (9 page)

B
unny
, huh?

Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to chat. I was swept off in one direction, and Owen did whatever he had to do. And I stewed.

After I went off with Quinn and got my security clearances and heard a spiel about safety, I was treated to another from the band’s manager, Indie. This one was about the band’s grueling schedule and the importance of giving the band their space to create magic—though she said it in much cruder terms—I had just one question.

What the hell had I done?

I hadn’t had a bazillion lovers. I hadn’t even made out with a bunch of guys, though that term was sophomoric at best. The amount of rockstars I’d seen in the altogether?

None. Still none. Probably would always be none, since the bastard didn’t remember me.

At least I didn’t think he remembered me, though the bunny comment seemed…odd. But I’d sneaked in a few surreptitious glances his way during the meeting, and he’d acted completely blasé. He’d been flirty, but as if I was any other woman. Not one he’d spent half an evening with, laughed with, licked—

Okay, the licking was irrelevant. To him, and now it would be to me too.

I had my vibrator. I had no use for phalluses that didn’t buzz.

You gave him a fake name. You had fake hair. It was dark, and it was months ago. Can you really hold his memory lapse against him?

Normally, no. But I was a little sensitive right now, even if I was being ridiculous. Knowing that my thoughts weren’t logical didn’t stop the flood of feelings, mainly because he was just as overwhelming to me now as he’d been on Halloween night.

And I was going to be stuck on a bus with him for weeks.

You only took a week off from Rocky’s. If you can only hack it for seven days, Lord Lewis still has to pay you. In any case, you’ll still have valuable work experience to add to your portfolio.

I blew out a breath. Sure, I’d have a week’s worth of priceless experience. I’d also have a rep for flaking out while on an important job. I’d been hired by a powerful man with lots of contacts. I couldn’t just skip out because my hormones were all aflutter. Or because it was awkward, for me at least.

Even if I wasn’t ready to let go of Rocky’s for the unknown…well, the unknown had me in its jaws now. If I flailed, I’d only end up bloodier.

Yep, no more watching
Jaws
marathons at two a.m. when I couldn’t sleep.

Speaking of sleeping, it was late. I’d had a long, confusing day, and I’d never finished my rewatch of
Wrong Turn
. I’d never had any idea that morning at breakfast the whirlwind day I had in store—from the interview with Lila and then Donovan at Ripper Records, to a plane ride in Lord Lewis’s jet to meet the band in Austin, to actually seeing Owen and having him look right through me.

But that “bunny” line confused all of it. Of course I’d had to jet off with Quinn for his security seminar before I could look Owen dead in the eye and accuse him of being a manwhore.

One I really wished I’d gotten to enjoy more fully before I’d rabbited the first time.

“Bunny,” I mumbled.

So maybe he did remember me. I’d figured that was some term of endearment meant to make me fling off my panties, but duh, perhaps not.

I’d have to speak to him. While remaining fully clothed and totally professional, because now I had a job on the line.

Just my luck. My only non-self-induced O on the horizon, impeded by a paycheck. One I desperately needed.

Do you mean you need the O or the paycheck? Because pretty sure you’re desperate for both.

“No comment.” Yes, I was answering my own thought questions. Which meant I was officially a hot mess.

Sighing, I unzipped my suitcase and withdrew my small stack of hastily packed shirts. I turned to a nearby dresser in the hotel room, then remembered I’d only be here for two more nights after this one. After that, we’d be taking two buses, off to places unknown.

More unknown. If I kept thinking about it, I was going to get hives.

The knock at the door made me bobble the shirts I was in the process of returning to my suitcase.

I dumped the pile back in my suitcase and ran a hand over my damp hair. I’d taken a quick shower upon returning to my room, but I was already wilting again. I’d hoped to stay up writing down a few impressions so far before I went to sleep, thinking maybe I’d be called upon to offer a travelogue of sorts along with my photos in the book. Even if I wasn’t, it would be good for my scrapbook. It had been a long while since I’d taken time to stop and really enjoy my surroundings, and I wanted to do that now.

If I was taking the biggest risk of my life, might as well thoroughly document it, right?

But if I looked anything like I felt—travel-weary, exhausted and frazzled—I wasn’t up to seeing company. Especially since I suspected who it might be.

Another knock sounded at the door, and I swallowed deeply. “Can I help you?”

Tomorrow. I’ll help you tomorrow, after a pot of coffee and six hours of motivational mantras.

“It’s Wyatt. Remember me?”

I nearly sprinted to the door and flung it open. “Oh, thank God it’s you.”

His teasing grin faded and he glanced behind me into the room. “Everything okay?”

I couldn’t help being touched by his concern. It’d been awhile since a man had wanted to slay dragons for me, even if I was just as capable of taking care of business myself. Still, it was nice.

Wyatt was nice, and I was grateful to see him.

“Everything’s fine.” I grabbed him by the arm and hauled him inside the room, making him laugh as I shut the door. “Sorry, I’m not dressed for company.”

“Depends on the company. A man would have to be blind not to like the looks of you in a peach negligée.”

I frowned and glanced down at my nightie. It wasn’t sheer, and it definitely wasn’t sexy. “I’d call it more pink,” I muttered, grabbing a shrug off the doorknob when he chuckled. “So what’s up? Did you come over here to haze the newbie?”

He made a noise in his throat. “What newbie? You? Hardly. You’re a repeat offender at this point, which makes you part of the crew.” He poked into my open suitcase and came out with a bra on the tip of his finger. “Your taste is impressive, Ms. Templeton.”

Seeing the huge, brawny ginger dude holding my lacy, frilly lingerie made me snort out a giggle before I snatched it back and tucked it in the pocket of the suitcase. “Did you have an actual purpose in coming here or do you just enjoy fondling women’s underthings?”

“Of course. And the answer is yes.”

“To which question, smartass?”

“Both.” He grinned and sat on the edge of my tidily made bed. “I’m hitting the Del Ray closed course tomorrow, and I was wondering if you’d join me.”

My first indication was to say no. I had no idea yet what my schedule would entail, and how busy I’d be before the shows. Was I allowed to go off gallivanting with one of the rockers on a personal jaunt? I hadn’t yet nailed down the parameters with Donovan and Lila as far as that kind of thing went.

I grabbed the notepad beside the bed I’d set out for my travel journal and made a note to text Lila. Before I’d finished, Wyatt snatched the notebook out of my hand.

“Buy tampons,” he read as I scrabbled to grab his arm. Since he was the size of an unearthly man-beast, it wasn’t hard for him to hold it out of my reach. “Buy chocolate and peanut butter and Quik.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Really?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes you need chocolate milk at two a.m. And if I’m going to be far from home, I want some comfort food. So sue me.”

He closed the notebook and handed it back to me. “This has gotta be a big adjustment for you.”

“You could say that.”

“So why are you doing it?”

I started to toss off a jaunty response about love not paying the bills, but the truth slipped out before I could. “To see if I can,” I murmured.

“That’s a worthy reason. I’ve done many things for that one myself.”

“Like what?”

“Like, say, joining Hammered in the first place.” He turned toward me on the bed, pulling up one of his legs. “So what do you say? Come with me tomorrow. Have some fun.”

I cocked my head. “Still no sparks between us, right?”

“No, unfortunately not, because I really like that nightie.”

I laughed and grabbed the nearest pillow to whack him in the head. He caught it in mid-air. “I can promise you lots of juicy info for the book.”

“Now you’re talking. But I’m not writing it, just taking pictures.”

“Yes, but the more about me you know, the easier it is to get a handle on the photos. You’ll be getting to know all of us, so I figured I’d make it easier on you. Plus, I might need some pictures of my own.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, I keep up a fan website for those who followed me during—” He cleared his throat. “Back then. Anyway, I thought the closed course photos would be something they’d enjoy. If you wanted to throw in one or two in the book, cool.”

“I won’t be doing final picture selection, I’m sure. I just provide them. The big bosses decide what makes the final cut.”

He patted his chest. “C’mon, do you really think me being all sexy behind the wheel wouldn’t be top of the list? It’d probably make the damn cover.”

“Right. Because big shot race car drivers who hung it up to play rockstar would make a perfect cover of Hammered’s tenth anniversary coffee table book.”

I’d meant it as a joke. But maybe my tone was off, or the subject matter was just too personal, because the instant the words were out, some emotion scrolled across Wyatt’s face. When his smile turned forced and he locked his jaw, I wanted to snatch back my teasing words.

I wasn’t meant to be funny and flirty, even in a friendly it-means-nothing sort of way. I wasn’t that Callie any more, if I’d ever been. Now when I tried to be snarky and quippy, I just came out sounding ruder than I meant to. Look at what had happened with Lila’s husband Nick, and probably half a dozen times with Owen. Now I’d unintentionally stirred up crap with Wyatt too. As for the stuff I’d said to Donovan, that hadn’t even been an attempt at being jocular. Just my usual social ineptness rearing its head.

Serious and introspective, that was me. At least that was me now. I was also someone who made amends, even if I hadn’t been intentionally hurtful.

I cleared my throat. “The person who just said that tries to be funny when she so isn’t. She also watched most of your races and had a big crush on you until you went out with Mindy No Boobs and I had to stop thinking of you that way.”

His lips twitched. “Mindy No Boobs? Mindy Nobue?”

“Yes. I heard her name wrong on TV one day and took an instant dislike to her. So—forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive.” He said it with such an affable smile that anyone else would’ve thought he’d barely registered my comment.

But I’d seen his fleeting expression, and I’d spent too many years studying faces. I’d reminded him of the past, and I knew better than anyone sometimes it was better to let sleeping memories lie.

“We’re on for tomorrow. Though I gotta warn you, I like to go fast.”

“And let me guess, you’re worried the former big shot racecar driver can’t make that happen?”

“No, I’m just telling you that you don’t have to ride the brake to make me happy.” I grinned. “What kind of car will we be driving?”

“Picture girl, there is no we. I’ll be driving.” He tapped my nose and stood. “You might feel comfortable going fast with me behind the wheel, but the reverse isn’t true. You know what they say about women drivers.”

I grabbed the first thing that came to hand and tossed it after him. He opened the door to my hotel suite and stepped aside just as the single solitary teddy I’d brought with me dropped to the carpeted floor.

And on the other side of the threshold stood Owen.

“Well, isn’t this cozy? I’d hate to interrupt.” He bent to pick up my teddy while Wyatt lifted a brow and glanced my way. “If I gave a shit,” he added with a cheeky grin that did nothing to downplay the flare of heat in his eyes as he stalked toward the bed.

Okay, so for the people keeping score at home.

Wyatt and me—no heat.

Owen and me? All the heat for a twenty-seven block radius. Need a jump for your car battery? Pretty sure we could power that too with one of our smoldering looks.

“Hey Owen. I was just leaving.”

“Aye, mate. You just do that.”

Wyatt waggled his brows at me from behind Owen and I could just tell from the mischief in his eyes whatever he said next, I would not appreciate.

“Can’t wait to go fast with you tomorrow, baby. Sweet dreams.” He shut the door behind himself while I cursed him mightily in my head.

“So that is how it is, hmm?”

I fastened a bland smile to my face. “Can I help you?”

Like a shot, Owen was in front of me, leaning down until our faces were a hairsbreadth apart. Our noses nearly touched, and our lips—

Suffice it to say I could tell he’d had a little whisky nightcap, and I wanted that burn on my tongue more than I wanted to hold on to my indignance about whether or not he remembered me.

Right now, it sure as hell felt like he did. That he had to, because surely he couldn’t have this with every other woman, right?

Any other woman
, a voice said sneakily in the back of my mind. And I let her have her due, because the way he was staring at me as if I were a five-course buffet gave me confidence. He wanted me, and it was enough to bolster up all the cracks in the sea wall around my emotions that had been widening ever since my divorce. Hell, long before.

“Yes, love, you damn well can help me. You can start by telling me what exactly Hudson Wyatt was doing in your room while you’re wearing this.” He helped me out of my shrug, and I let him because I was an idiot. Or horny.

Horny idiot reporting for duty, sir!

“He just stopped by. I wasn’t expecting him. Not that I owe any explanations to you.”

“No, you do not. But still, you greeted him in your nightclothes, and I bet he enjoyed the view.” Slowly, he reached out to stroke his fingertip along the flimsy strap to my nightgown, his gaze lowering to my breasts. “Hard not to, when your nipples are hard and you were probably smiling at him in a way you never smiled at me.”