Mr. Rockstar (9 page)

“
Holy shit, it is! That’s the song on the CD!” Fiona bumped her water in her excitement, spilling some on the table.

Isabelle grabbed napkins and mopped up the spill even as adrenaline rushed through her, making her hands tremble. What was going on? She listened, already knowing the words by heart, and then the radio DJ came on, announcing that he
’d just played Vin Clementine’s latest single. Apparently, all the stations had it, even though he wasn’t supposed to be releasing anything for months. Marvin had surprised everyone with the announcement of an all-acoustic album due out in a few weeks.

“
I don’t know, Isabelle, but that song sure sounds a hell of lot like a message to you,” Fiona said, her voice suddenly sober.

And though she denied it out loud, deep inside, Isabelle knew her friend was probably right.

A few week
s later she’d received two more CDs, each one with another acoustic song. Neither had any messages for her. No phone number. No scribbled note. Nothing except the song titles written in marker on the top of the disks. She’d brought them to work so she could copy the songs to her digital music player, and now she was sitting outside her building at lunch listening to them. She still didn’t know what to do. Go to L.A.? Stay? She had to do something. Make some kind of decision. She shook her head as Marvin’s soft buttery voice sank into her bones. Across from her, the trees on the far side of the parking lot rustled in the breeze. A few had just begun to turn yellow and fluttered to the ground. Autumn was coming. She couldn’t help but feel that she was shriveling up, like the leaves, with every day that passed.

“
Hey, I know you!” a woman said, startling Isabelle out of her reverie.

“
Excuse me?” She pulled the ear buds from her ears, confused. Marvin’s voice sang on, tinny but still mesmerizing. She tapped her player, pausing the music, and looked up. A young woman stood on the sidewalk in front of the bench, smiling widely. Isabelle had never seen her before in her life.

“
You were with Vin Clementine! Right? I saw the photo in the news just yesterday.”

Isabelle frowned.
“What photo?”

The girl stepped forward.
“Are you dating?”

“
What?” Isabelle had no idea what she was talking about.

The girl sat down, way too close for Isabelle
’s comfort, still grinning. “What’s he really like? I’ve gone to see him in concert, but oh my God, I can’t even imagine trying to talk to him. I’d probably pass out. He’s so gorgeous.”

Isabelle edged away, completely confused.
“What photo are you talking about?”

The girl seemed taken about.
“You haven’t seen it?” She bit her lip. “But you look just like the woman in the photo.” She rummaged around in her purse and pulled out her phone. “Here, isn’t this you?” She tapped on the screen and called up a website. She held it out so Isabelle could see.

Isabelle squinted against the sunlight. On the screen, she saw a photo of Marvin with his arm around her. She was wearing the magenta dress from Fiona
’s wedding. It was clearly a candid shot, taken sometime after he’d hit Preston. “Oh no,” she murmured, leaning closer. She glanced up at the girl. “Is this the only picture?”

The girl shook her head.
“No. Look.” She scrolled down. In the next photo, Marvin was kissing her on the head, looking apologetic.

Isabelle remembered that. It was right after he
’d punched Preston. She sighed. She’d been surprised that the pictures hadn’t come out right after the wedding. She thought they’d dodged the press, but clearly not.

“
That’s you, right?” the girl asked again.

“
Yes,” Isabelle replied, heart sinking. “That’s me.”

The girl literally bounced on the seat.
“The article says you’re dating him. They have no idea who you are!”

Thank God for small favors
, Isabelle mused, still trying to process the fact that her face was splayed all over a notorious gossip website.

“
Also, wow, that’s a hideous dress.” The girl tapped on the screen, zooming in on the skirt.

“
It was my best friend’s wedding,” Isabelle said defensively.

“
You look much prettier in real life. The camera always adds a zillion pounds.”

Great. How nice to know that,
Isabelle thought darkly. What the hell was she going to do now?

“
So, are you dating Vin? Did he write those songs for you?” the girl asked. “I heard that after his last girlfriend cheated on him, he swore off women.”

His last girlfriend
had cheated on him? Suddenly a whole lot of things made more sense to Isabelle. “He’s nice,” she said, not wanting to say much. “And we’re not dating.”

It was like the girl didn
’t even hear her. “I can’t wait to tell my friend Amanda that I met the mystery girlfriend. Did you know he was going to write songs about you?”

Isabelle stood up. She didn
’t want to do this. Didn’t want people to recognize her on the street. She slipped her music player into her bag.

“
Wait, I’m sorry! I just can’t believe I met someone who knows Vin Clementine.” The girl stood up too, jostling Isabelle. The CDs Marvin sent her flew out of her purse and clattered to the ground.

“
Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” the girl exclaimed, crouching down to pick them up. Before Isabelle could grab them, the girl had gathered them together and was handing them back. Suddenly, she paused and her face paled. She stared at the disks. “Holy shit, this is Vin’s handwriting. He touched these!”

Isabelle blinked. His fans recognized his handwriting?

The girl peered at the marker on the disks. “He wrote this!” she squealed, pointing at the song title:
Beautiful Belle
.

“
Can I please have my music back?” Isabelle asked, hand closing over the plastic. She was already embarrassed that he’d written a song with her name in the title. Having a complete stranger freak out over it was somehow even worse.

The girl
protested under her breath and reluctantly let go. “Where did you get them?”

Isabelle sighed, wanting nothing more than to get away from this admittedly nice, but extremely hyper person.
“He sent them to me.”

The words only made the girl more hysterical.
“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, loud enough that a few heads turned.

Isabelle snatched them from her hands and stuffed them in her bag.
“Nice to meet you.” She turned away.

The girl grabbed her arm.
“Wait!”

Isabelle shook her off.
“Look, I know you’re very excited, but I need to get back to work now.”

“
I just want to know if his tattoo really goes down over his hip. I read that it does, but he never takes his shirt off when he’s performing, or at all, really, and…”

Oh my God
, Isabelle thought, appalled by the crazy. “It’s really none of your business, is it?” she asked, gently interrupting. She shrugged off the girl’s hand, desperately trying to block the memory of the tattoo curling down over Marvin’s hip. She failed. The feathers from the birds on his arm did indeed go down to his groin, but no one else needed to know that. “Marvin’s body belongs to him. Not to the whole world,” she pointed out, pivoting and walking away when the girl didn’t give up. She ignored the girl’s entreaties, needing to get out of there. She swiped her card and squeezed into her building, grateful that the girl didn’t follow her in.

Unfortunately, that incident was just the beginning of the insanity.

Chapter Eight

The flight to L.A. exhausted her more than she expected. She tucked her hair back into her hat and secured the large sunglasses she’d purchased back home on her nose. She hoped no one recognized her, but she wasn’t going to hold her breath. She walked down the ramp, dragging her carry-on bag behind her. A few of the other passengers gave her sharp looks, probably because she kept almost tripping over her bag because the glasses obscured her vision, but no one pointed or yelled her name.

At the end of the tunnel, she turned left because everyone else was going right. When she found a semi-quiet spot near the wall, she pulled out her cell phone and turned it on. Eighty-five messages appeared on her screen. Ugh. She didn
’t know any of the people who’d tried to call and didn’t even try to scroll through them all. She mass-deleted them and called her brother.

“
You’re here?” he asked, not bothering to say hi. It didn’t matter.

“
Yeah, my flight just got in. Gate thirty-two.” She rubbed her eyes under the glasses. “Does he know?” A jet taking off just outside the window was loud enough to make her head ache.

“
No. I didn’t tell him.” Ian sounded tired.

“
Good. Can you still pick me up?” she asked.

He sighed.
“Yeah. I don’t understand why you didn’t want me to tell him you’re coming.”

“
I just need a break from the chaos. It’s not his fault and I don’t want to drag him into it.” Isabelle rubbed her forehead, trying to dispel the pain in her skull, but her fingers didn’t do a damn thing. “He’s a nice guy. He did a good thing.”

“
Belle, he feels terrible about this. Don’t be stupid,” her brother said scornfully, the way only a sibling can.

She rolled her eyes at the phone.
“Ian, just pick me up. Or I can call a cab.”

“
No, for God’s sake, don’t call a cab. You’ll be waiting forever. Give me a half hour.”

“
Fine,” she said.

“
Fine,” he replied shortly.

“
Ian—” she warned. The last thing she wanted was to drag Marvin into this. Just because the press was following her around didn’t mean he had to get embroiled in it.

“
Belle, you’re being stubborn and for no good reason. The paps follow him around all the damn time. It’s not like he isn’t used to it.”

“
If they saw us together, it would get even worse. I came here to get away from them. If I’m not at home, they’ll lose interest and this will all die down. If we’re seen together, well, everyone’s going to go insane. I just want to hole up in your apartment for a week or two. That’s it.” She grimaced. Why did she have to explain all this to him again?

Because he
’s your annoying brother
, a small voice said in the back of her head. She ignored it.

“
Okay, whatever. I still think you’re making a mistake,” he said.

“
Just pick me up, okay?”

“
Fine.” The connection went dead.

“
Fine,” she said under her breath as she turned her phone off. She squared her shoulders and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. Time to go.

Twenty minutes, one shuttle ride, and a bathroom break later, she was standing at the pickup location. Ian was nowhere to be seen, but neither were any photographers, thank God. She felt almost light without the weight of people staring at her.
Maybe my disguise worked?
she wondered, touching her hat again to make sure it stayed put. It was a wide-brimmed straw sun hat that she’d bought in desperation along with the sunglasses just before she’d gotten on her first flight. It looked nice with her jeans and flowy silk shirt, too, which was helpful. She was afraid the outfit would make her look like a chubby celebrity wanna-be, but instead it somehow pulled the entire look together. Weirdly, her reflection in the restroom mirror looked pretty and relaxed, the exact opposite of how she really felt.

“
Belle.”

She jerked her head around. Oh no. She was going to kill Ian.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Marvin said, tucking his sunglass in his blue shirt. The sun lit his green eyes while she stood there and gaped at him. He wore tight jeans and scuffed black boots. He’d put the hoops back in his ears and the silver glinted as he cocked his head. Her heart knocked against her ribs as her eyes drank in the sight of him.

He put up his hands defensively, obviously misinterpreting her stare of shock for anger.
“It’s not Ian’s fault.”

Isabelle frowned, suddenly irritated beyond belief even as she wanted to fling herself at him.
“What are you doing here?”

“
I overheard him on the phone with you.” He moved closer. “We were working and he took the call. He
never
does that when we’re recording.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see a couple of paparazzi moving through the crowd. Shit.

“So you eavesdropped?” she asked him. Her hands tightened on the suitcase handle. Were they going to have to run? This was exactly what she hadn’t wanted to happen.

“
No, I wouldn’t do that. I walked out to get some water, but he followed me because reception in the booth is terrible.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t help but overhear.”

She bet Ian had done that on purpose, the ass. He
wanted
Marvin to overhear. “That doesn’t mean you had to come get me,” she said, flicking a glance past him. Two more photographers were moving toward them. “Shit.” She sighed, knowing her options were limited. They had to get out of there or they would be mobbed. “The media is here.”

He looked around swiftly.
“Dammit. Come on. You can yell at me in the car.” He stepped toward her and touched her elbow.

She flinched back, feeling completely unbalanced. She hadn
’t expected him to be here. She honestly never expected to see him again, not in person.

His eyes darkened and he dropped his hand. Isabelle felt terrible. He
’d obviously misinterpreted her body language. She forced a smile, trying to reassure him.
What a disaster
, she thought, frustrated. “Lead the way.”

He nodded curtly and pushed through the line of people waiting for cabs, ignoring the dirty looks a few people sent his way. Surprised by his abrupt exit, Isabelle hurried after him, tugging on his shirt to get him to slow down. Her carry-on hampered her movements.
“Marvin, wait. I’m sorry.”

He stopped and rubbed his face.
“Shit, no. I’m sorry Isabelle. This is all my fault.”

She almost ran into him.
“Marvin—”

“
Belle, I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said, obviously upset.

Isabelle grabbed his arm, fingers settling over the doves etched into his skin.
“You think I do?”

He opened his mouth, about to reply, but it was too late. The paps were on them.

“Vin! Vin, is this your new girlfriend?” … “I thought you’d sworn off women!” … “What’s her name?” … “Isabelle, how did you two meet?”

Her spine tensed up as Marvin stepped in front of her protectively.
“Guys, don’t you have anything better to do?” he asked, voice mild and joking. “I’m really not that interesting. Just picking a friend up from the airport.”

How the hell does he do that?
Isabelle marveled, trying to push down the mix of fear and anger she felt. She hated having people shove cameras and microphones in her face, but Marvin seemed to handle it without even a hint of irritation.

“
I heard you were engaged!” one particularly obnoxious pap shouted, shoving forward with a small video recorder held out.

“
Engaged?” she blurted out. That was a new one. The people who’d been calling her and taking photos of her going to work hadn’t asked her that. They’d just heckled her for information about Marvin.

“
Johnny, of course you’d ask that. You do realize you’re violating the restraining order I have on you, right?” Marvin asked coldly, shoving the man’s arm out of his face.

“
Restraining order?” Isabelle murmured, feeling like a parrot. Everything was happening too fast for her.

“
He’s been a particularly persistent insect,” Marvin explained to her, gathering her under his arm.

“
Who you calling an insect, Mr. Fruit? At least my name isn’t Clementine!” the man yelled.

Marvin ignored him, taking the handle of her bag. He urged her down the street.
“Charlie has the car just ahead.”

She nodded and let him tow her along. After not sleeping last night and the long day of traveling, she just didn
’t have the energy to deal with any of this. Marvin pushed past the photographers as though they were nothing more than a swarm of pesky flies, and then Charlie was there, opening the back door of a flashy looking car for her.

“
Nice to see you again, Miss,” he said, smiling as he took the bag from Marvin.

“
You too, Charlie,” she replied, ducking into the car. Flashes were going off in her face and she was even more grateful for the sunglasses. Marvin climbed in after her and then Charlie was at the wheel.

“
How will he ever drive away without running over someone?” she asked, leaning back and taking off her hat. The windows were tinted. The press of people against the glass freaked her out, nonetheless. She slid her sunglass on top of her head.

“
Everyone knows the drill, don’t worry,” he said, running a hand down her arm. “Charlie will drive slow. They’ll move out the way.”

She let herself relax into the plush leather of the seat.
“This is crazy,” she whispered, half to herself as the car began to move, slowly, forward. She watched as the photographers pressed hands to the glass. They were crazy. However, as Marvin had explained, they did eventually get out of the way. Some shouted a few more questions, but most dispersed.
Off to find easier prey,
she supposed.

Marvin sighed.
“I know. And I am really sorry you got caught up in it.”

“
It’s not your fault,” she said, exhaustion moving through her bones. Something about being with Marvin again simultaneously aroused her and made her want to run for the hills. “You didn’t have to come and take me to Fiona’s wedding. I’m still grateful you did that, by the way.” She let her eyes drink in the length of his body: long, strong thighs, hard abdomen, and muscular shoulders.

“
I don’t know how you can be grateful,” he said, slumping down. “My life is complicated, as you can tell.” He looked out the window.

Isabelle
wondered if he was thinking about their night together. She forced her eyes to his hands. He was tapping on his knee. Those hands had given her so much pleasure. She couldn’t regret that. He’d made her feel things she never expected. He’d made her believe she was a beautiful woman, for the first time in her life. “I’m grateful for the night you stayed, too,” she murmured, low, so Charlie wouldn’t hear.

He looked at her, an unreadable expression on his face.
“I don’t want your gratitude.”

She frowned, taken aback. What
did
he want from her? It was her turn to look outside. When she saw that they were driving on the wrong expressway, she sat up, alarmed. “This isn’t the way to Ian’s apartment.”

“
No.”

She sucked in a breath.
“Marvin, what—?” she tried to ask, but he put a finger over her mouth, silencing her.

“
Let me take care of you, Belle.” His eyes were dark, just a little bit of green still showing, and abruptly, she realized he was very, very aroused.

When had that happened?
She looked down and saw the outline of his cock pressing against the zipper. She felt like the floor had dropped out from under her.

“
Let me take care of you,” he repeated, low and sexy.

Isabelle swallowed, considering
what he wanted, but even as she tried to think it through, make a rational decision, her body was already acquiescing. She nodded and opened her mouth. The callous on the tip of his finger abraded her sensitive lips. It felt good.

“
Shhh,” he said before she could speak, drawing his finger down and over her jaw. Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch. “I missed you.”

She saw the truth in his face.
“I missed you too,” she murmured, unable to give him anything but the truth. His feelings made no sense. Her feelings were even less rational—she wanted him to throw her on the floor of the car and ravish her. And they’d only truly known each other for two days. What the hell was wrong with her? What kind of woman fell for someone after only two days?

“
Did you get the songs?” he asked, interrupting her self-scolding.