RECKLESS - Part 1 (3 page)

“You’re really coming next weekend?” Sean asked for the third time, obviously still in shock over my sudden change in plans.

“Yes, really,” I replied, laughing as I snuggled into my pillow, already excited about seeing him. “I’m really coming. I miss you, and it’s been too long.”

“And you’re sure it won’t mess with the exam you have next week?”

“Nah, I’m sure I’ll do fine,” I said. “It’s not like I’m struggling or anything. Just, you know me.”

“Of course I do! You’re intelligent. Goal-oriented. Hard-working. And sexy as hell.”

I giggled into the receiver. “Sean, that’s not what I meant.”

“What? Just stating the obvious.”

I released a contented sigh and rolled onto my back, staring up at my ceiling. Pictures of Sean, my parents, my sister and brother—my entire life back home—were plastered all over it. I couldn’t wait to see everyone, hang out with my friends, and catch up with my family. But most of all, I couldn’t wait to fall into the arms of the man that adored the very ground I walked on. A weekend with him was exactly what I needed.

“I love you,” I finally said.

“Love you too, babe,” he responded, his voice soft and tender.

We chatted for a little while longer, discussing our plans for the weekend. It felt nice, making plans with him, even if it was just to catch a movie at the theater and maybe look over some wedding magazines. But all too soon, our time was over.

“Well, I should go,” I said, my tone sprinkled with my sad reluctance. I really did miss him. “I’ve got to start getting ready for the concert. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Wish I could be there, for moral support, at least.”

“I know,” I said, knowing he was only half joking. “It’s okay, though. Becca’s going to come with, at least until the interview.”

“Good,” he said, sounding almost relieved. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” I promised.

Once we’d said our final goodbyes, I headed over to the closet to fetch my outfit for the night. I couldn’t help but feel guilty putting it on right after having probably the best conversation I’d had with Sean in months. And I honestly wondered what he might think if he had any knowledge of what I was about to do… but rather than focus on that gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach, I reminded myself of why I was doing it in the first place:

Jace Richardson deserved to be taught a lesson. One he’d never forget.

“Stop that,” Becca said, swatting at my hands in irritation.

I’d been nervously wrapping them around my waist, my breasts—everywhere, really—the whole walk to the football field. “I can’t help it,” I said, gnawing at the inside of my cheek. “I just feel so…”

“Yeah, I know. Naked.” Becca gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “At least I dressed to match,” she said, sweeping her hands over her outfit. “That should make you feel a little better.”

“I know. And thank you.” I gave her a weak, but grateful smile. “I’m just nervous, I guess. And in a way, I kind of feel like I’m cheating.”

“Don’t be silly, Andy,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “It’s not like you’re going to let him bend you over the equipment after the interview.”

“Oh, good God, Becca.”

“What? I’d let him do it to me,” she said with a shrug.

“Seriously?”

“Duh. He’s Jace fucking Richardson. But apparently, he’s got his sights set on you.”

“Well, that’s all about to change,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest again.

Becca cocked an unbelieving eyebrow at me. “Not if you don’t put that modesty on the shelf for a few minutes, chick.”

I hated to admit it, but Becca was right. If I was going to do this, I might as well go all the way. It was time to put my big girl panties on and play the game I’d come to win.

“Here,” I said, coming to a halt in the gravel parking lot outside the football field. “Help me adjust this.” I motioned to my top.

“Again?” Becca growled, lips pulled back in an irritated snarl as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“No, not like that,” I said, shaking my head, my lips tilting up in a mischievous grin. “Let’s do this.”

“About fucking time!”

In just a few tugs and pulls of the top and some readjustment of the strings, Becca had my breasts bulging up over the top. I had to admit, they’d never looked as good as they had right then, but it took quite a bit of effort to stuff down the insecurities bubbling below the surface.

Taking a step back, Becca examined her work and then nodded, apparently approving of her creation. “You’ve got this, Andy,” she said, linking her arm with mine and then pulling me toward the ticket line.

“Thanks,” I responded, giving her a quick squeeze as we walked.

Once we reached the line, I went to the front and showed the ticket agent my press pass. He waved us in and Becca and I made our way into the stadium. Squeals and screeches of the sound system were only inferior to the clamor of the impatient crowd echoed in my head. The band was about to start.

“Come on,” Becca shouted, yanking me through the crowd.

With skill that suggested she might have been a linebacker in a previous lifetime, she maneuvered us deeper and deeper into the throng of buzzing energy. It sounds a little cliché, but it truly is the only way to describe the scene; we were no longer moving through a group of people, but a living, breathing force. Being in the middle of it all gave me a heady sensation, one that fogged my head and thrummed through every inch of my body like a live wire.

“This is crazy,” I yelled as loud as I could, hoping Becca heard me.

She nodded her head in response and stopped for a second to lean in my direction. “You think this is great, wait until we get up to the front.”

I don’t know how long it took for us to reach the stage, but by the time we did, I couldn’t tell who was sweatier—me, or the people stuffed in around us. As we stood up in front of the stage, with all the lights and the body heat from the people crammed around us, it didn’t look like I was going to receive any kind of a reprieve from the sauna-like conditions.

Thank God I remembered to put deodorant on.

Becca leaned into me, a silly grin plastered across her face, her pupils dilated, as if she’d taken some crazy drug beforehand. “Isn’t this great?” she asked.

I had to admit, it was pretty amazing.

“This is why you come, isn’t it?” I asked, making a circle with my finger.

She opened her mouth to respond, but screams from the crowd drowned out her words; the band was coming out onto the stage.

Bodies bumped into me from every direction as every living, breathing female in the crowd gravitated toward the stage. I looked up, already knowing what the magnetic pull was… but I never could have fully prepared myself for the performance presence of Jace Richardson.

Guitar hanging from his hand like an extension of his own body, he sauntered toward the microphone. His dingy, cut-up jeans clung to all the right places. A black t-shirt, emblazoned with the name of his band, fit his muscular curves like a second skin. His hair shimmered under the bright lights, and the contours of his face made his five o’clock shadow more alluring than should ever be allowed.

Becca bumped me with her shoulder. “Um, I think you’ve got a little drool going on there,” she said with a smirk.

I bumped her right back. “Shut up. I do not. I’m just thirsty.”

“Right,” Becca said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

Moments later, the band started plucking strings, testing the equipment to calibrate it for their performance. Seconds after that, Jace put his lips to the microphone.

“Good evening, Houston!” His deep voice reverberated through my chest, all the way into the pit of my stomach. “Let’s rock!”

When he began to sing in that trance-inducing voice, some unmentionable areas hummed along with the rest of my body. Good God, no wonder women flocked to him like mindless sheep. Everything about him screamed sex appeal—from the way those calloused fingers expertly strummed away at the strings of his guitar to the way his words reached in and massaged your heart.

And oh, that voice.

Becca and I swayed together, neither of us speaking, both of us losing ourselves in the music and the energy of the crowd. I lost all sense of time and place, swimming in the sea of sweaty bodies. I didn’t even care anymore that hungry, adoring fans were practically clamoring over me, just to get a little closer to the rock god up on the stage. I didn’t care about anything, except the sheer exhilaration coursing through me as Jace Richardson owned the crowd and everyone in it.

When it was all over, I felt like a part of my soul had died.

“That was…” There just weren’t words to describe the experience I’d just had. I’d felt never so alive, so aware, so inspired as I had right in that moment.

“Told you. He’s a god,” Becca said with a wink.

“How can I… what will I say? This was a totally stupid idea.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Becca said, pulling me toward the stage through the rabid crowd. “He may be a god, but he’s also an ass. You’re going to go up there and knock his socks off, show him he can’t play every woman that crosses his path.”

Hands clutching at my purse with an iron grip, I turned to her and begged for her to go with me.

Becca shook her head in response. “You know I don’t have clearance. I’ll be right here though.”

One foot on the first step, the other in the grass, I stared back at her, biting at the inside of my cheek. This had sounded like a great idea back at the dorm and in the mall. But that was before… before he’d taken a piece of me with his soulful words. Before I’d seen him on stage. Before I’d actually stood here, dressed like a harlot posing as a reporter.

What had I been thinking?

“Go on!” Becca said, giving me a light shove. “You’ve got this.”

I swallowed the lump trying to close off my airway and nodded. I could do this. Scratch that. I
had
to do this.

Before taking the next step, I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. I was going to go in, guns blazing. If I died, right there on stage, at least I could say I died fighting—for my career, for the dignity of women, and for the equal treatment of all genders… well, it sounded nice for a headstone engraving, anyway.

When I reached the curtain, I held up my pass for the stage crew to see. They held the heavy red fabric off to the side for me as I walked through to the backstage area. It was like stepping into a completely different world.

Various pieces of sound equipment and instruments littered the area. People bustled around, zipping past me as if I didn’t exist. Some of them screaming, some of them moving equipment, and still others looking like they had no idea what they hell they were supposed to be doing. They were all preparing for the next act, and I only had ten minutes to get my interview in.

Jace was propped against a floor speaker, talking and laughing with some of his band mates. He didn’t notice me at first, but a guy with long, dark dreadlocks pointed me out. It took everything in me not to fidget and cover my body as Jace’s gaze swept over me, his lips slightly parted.

“Well, well,” he said, walking towards me with his hand extended. “If it isn’t the saucy little firecracker from the coffee shop.”

“I have a name, you know.” I retorted, giving his hand a quick but firm shake. God, why were my palms so sweaty?

“Aye, I’m sure you do.” The corner of his mouth lifted into that same smug grin he’d given me at the coffee shop. “But you were so busy spouting off at me, I never had a chance to ask what it was.”

I cleared my throat, realizing he was right. “Andrea.”

“Andrea…?”

“Mercer.”

“Pleased to meet you, Andrea Mercer.” He gave me a quick nod. The movement sent a few dark brown locks over his eye. As he swept them away with his fingers, I tried not to think about how, just moments before, those same fingers had played their way into my heart and soul, as if he alone held the key to my most private thoughts and feelings.

“Well, um,” I said, suddenly feeling a little parched. “Shall we?”

He nodded his head toward the far left side of the stage and then started for it, not even bothering to see if I would follow. Good thing he was starting to act like a pompous jerk again; my sudden, unwanted groupie haze had clouded my head a little, and that just wouldn’t do. Not when I had a plan to follow through with.

We came to a small clearing at the end of the stage. After offering me an outdoor canvas chair, he pulled a metal folding one in front of it. “So, what would you like to know, firecracker?” he asked, turning the chair and sitting in it backwards. He folded his hands over the back and rested his head there, watching me as if I were the most fascinating creature on the planet.

Dear God, was he always this way with women?

“Well, I suppose it’s best to start with some basic information,” I said, pulling the iPad mini and stylus from my purse. We went through the mundane questions of how his band had started, how long they’d been playing together, and what their favorite cover was. All the while, I took notes on my tablet, acting as disinterested as possible.

“And what are your plans for the future?” I asked, looking up from my notes for the first time.
Trap set.

Little lines formed around his mouth as the corners lifted. Deep brown eyes seared into mine. I knew that look; I’d seen it on countless men before him. He was the hunter, and I was the prey. All I had to do was wait.

“For starters,” he said, the heat in his gaze reaching dangerous levels; any hotter and I’d spontaneously combust. “I’d like to take you to dinner sometime.”

Bait taken.

I giggled with as much sweetness as I could muster. “Oh, I don’t think I’d make very good company.” Between the rush of setting the trap and the strange sensation coursing through my body from the way he was looking at me, I sounded a bit like a feline in heat.

Which was exactly what I wanted.

He slowly licked his bottom lip, leaving behind a glistening trail. I did my best not to notice. “How about you let me decide that for myself?” he asked, voice smoothing straight through to the area between my legs.

Good, God. This was going to be harder than I thought. But I had to do it, if for no other reason than to make him think twice before using his charms like he was the greatest thing since Van Halen. “Oh, but I’m really not that interesting,” I said, intentionally fluttering my eyelashes.

“And what makes you think that?”

“Well, you already mentioned me being a firecracker,” I said, ticking off a list of negative qualities on my fingers. “I’m stubborn, a workaholic, and my schooling is my top priority.”

“You know, some men like a woman with a bit of fight.” He spread his legs a little further on the chair, giving me a spectacular view of what he had to offer. “And it’s good to have goals. Dreams. Ambitions. Don’t you think?”

He was challenging me, his brow raised in amusement, that suave smirk from the night before taking over his face. And I couldn’t help but notice the way his chocolate eyes sparkled when he had his sights set on something he wanted.

It was exactly the effect I’d been going for.

I leaned forward, allowing the top of my breasts to swell further. “Well, I’m also engaged.” It took everything I had to keep my shit-eating grin at bay. But there was also that pang of guilt, not only because I’d used my sex appeal against a man that wasn’t my fiancé, but also because maybe I’d come on too strong.