Rock Courtship Rock Courtship (Rock Kiss #1.5) (3 page)

Was it any wonder she found him so attractive?

 “No,” she said the instant after that thought passed through her head. “
No.
”

David, she reminded herself for the gazillionth time, was a client. He was also a musician. Thea had been around too many who lived the rock-and-roll lifestyle to trust any of them. Maybe it wasn’t fair to tar all musicians with the same brush, but she’d had her heart stomped on once by a cheating, lying son of a bitch. No way was she ever again handing it over to any man she wasn’t dead certain would handle it with care.

Rock stars were just not a good bet.

D
avid was expecting to take
some bullshit from the guys when he walked into the hotel’s breakfast room with Fox and the band’s local attorney. He was still dressed in the black pants and white shirt from last night, but despite the color, the shirt had survived miraculously unscathed under the hoodie he’d chucked into the trash. Splattered with more than a few liquid substances, including whiskey and blood, the hoodie had looked like it came from the costume department of a horror movie.

As it was, he had no trouble handling the ribbing from the males around the table. It was Thea’s sister, Molly, who moved the conversation to a dangerous emotional level. Though the two women shared a father, they looked nothing alike. Where Thea was tall and slender with hair that was silken black rain, Molly was small and curvy, her hair tending toward wild curls. But in one way, they were the same—Thea and Molly both knew how to cut right to the heart of a matter.

“You don’t seem like the kind of man who gets into bar fights,” she said after everyone else got up to grab more food from the buffet.

David didn’t answer, didn’t tell her he’d once been a fighter. Fast and slippery and fierce. A kid didn’t survive where he’d been born without learning to hold his own. He’d never liked the violence, but he’d done it because otherwise, his younger brothers—five and seven years behind him in age—would’ve become prey, too. All three of them had been short as kids, their bodies slight.

“You’re crazy in love with her, aren’t you?”

Molly’s gentle question hit him hard in the solar plexus. Staring out at the wall but seeing the warmth of Thea’s true smile, the way her eyes lit up when she was working on a big project, he realized he had no lies left in him. “Until I can’t think. I need to get over it.”

Molly’s big brown eyes were soft in sympathy. “Did you—”

“I asked her out. Had this whole argument worked out about how we’d be perfect together, but she never even gave me a shot.” Every time he thought of that day four months earlier when she’d rejected him with practiced courtesy, he wanted to haul her to him, make her
react
, give him anger even if she couldn’t give him anything else.

“She cut me off so smoothly,” he said, the memory acid on his heart, “it was like being sliced off at the knees. Professional smile, distant eyes, gentle hand on my arm as she ushered me out of her office.” He shook his head. “It was such a kick in the teeth that I just went.”

Molly was silent for a while. He didn’t really expect her to say anything, because what was there to say? He was in love with a woman who had no trouble turning him down flat. Nothing could change the fact Thea simply wasn’t attracted to him.

But then Molly did speak, and her words were so startling that he could only stare at her.

 “Write a memo,” she said, tone quiet but firm. “About all the reasons why you’d be perfect together, then e-mail it to her.”

Not sure where she was going with this, he held his silence.

 “Thea is surgically attached to her e-mail,” Molly continued.

David couldn’t argue with that statement. A large majority of his memories of Thea involved her with her phone in hand, sending or receiving messages, connecting with media, making notes, probably taking over the world. He’d never met anyone who could multitask at Thea’s level. She was flat-out incredible.

“She’ll read the memo because she can’t help herself,” Molly said, the two of them still alone at the table, “and if I know my sister, she’ll send you back a point-by-point rebuttal”—an affectionate smile—“so you’d better have your arguments ready.”

“That is either the worst or the best advice ever.” And the fact he was considering it would’ve told him exactly how far gone he was if he hadn’t already been fully aware of his feelings for Thea.

“Trust me.” Molly sipped her coffee before adding, “Thea likes brains and she likes determination.”

David’s fingers clenched on his fork. He knew he had a brain—it was why he’d won that scholarship at thirteen. As for the determination, yeah, he had that, too. Without it, he’d never have made it past all the rejections and setbacks the band had suffered back at the start. Only reason he hadn’t turned that determination on Thea was that he didn’t want to have her because he’d worn her down.

He wanted her with him because she
wanted
to be with him.

Molly leaned in close when the others started back. “If you send her ‘I’m sorry I messed up’ flowers, steer clear of white roses.”

When he raised an eyebrow in question, she said, “Ex.”

Jaw tightening, he nodded. “Got it.”

D
avid went up to his
room after breakfast. The crew, headed by Maxwell, had gone on to the concert location to finish the setup, but the band didn’t have to be there until much closer to the time of the show. Technically, other than doing the quick interviews Thea had lined up—to give the charity the concert was supporting a little more visibility—the four of them were supposed to rest, but each member of Schoolboy Choir had his own routine for getting his head in the right space.

David usually spent the time working on new songs or hanging out with Abe. His bandmate had conquered the drugs that had threatened to drag him under, and it looked like he was finally recovering from his nightmare of a divorce, but David had been friends with the other man a long time. He knew Abe had a way of holding things inside until they exploded.

Today, however, David was in bad shape himself. The cot in the jail cell had hardly been comfortable, and he’d spent most of the night awake, his thoughts always circling back to one woman: Thea.

He wasn’t fit company for anyone.

Striding into the shower after stripping off his wrinkled clothes, he stood there and let the hot water pound over him. The cut on his lip stung, his eye watered, but that was nothing compared to some of the injuries he’d taken as a kid.

Once he’d stepped out and dried off, he wrapped the towel around his hips and checked out the spreading bruise on his ribs. It looked far worse than it felt. Yeah okay, that was a load of shit. He’d pay for his loss of control tonight when he played the skins. The vibrations would hurt like a bitch. As for his eye—“Ah, fuck.” He hadn’t put ice on it, even when the bar owner offered him an ice pack, because he’d figured it couldn’t get much worse. He’d been wrong.

Taking a handful of ice out of the bucket that had been sitting outside his door when he came up—probably courtesy of one of the hotel staff who’d either caught the reports of the bar fight or seen him in the breakfast room—he wrapped the cubes in one of his T-shirts and held it to his eye as he lay down naked in bed. He had to catch at least a couple of hours sleep or he’d be useless at the concert, and he wasn’t about to let the band or its fans down.

Or Thea.

Her name was the last thought he had before exhaustion pulled him under and the first thing on his mind when he opened his eyes five hours later. The makeshift ice pack had long ago slipped off his face and melted onto the bed, leaving a great big wet spot, but his eye was no longer swollen. It’d be black and blue and probably purple, but his vision was fine.

Pulling on a pair of jeans, he drank three glasses of water, then sat in the armchair that got the most sun through the huge sliding doors that opened out onto a private terrace. He’d rather be outside, but he’d bet his left nut that the terrace was the focus of multiple long-lens paparazzi cameras right now. At least with the angle of the sun, the vultures wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot through the glass, meaning he could sit here and drink in the sun, have it burn away the last of the cobwebs.

Since he’d sacked out for so long, he didn’t have much time before he had to head to a downstairs conference room for the interviews. He’d steeled himself for the inevitability of coming face-to-face with Thea, but the sight of her still threatened to gut him.

Scowling, she strode over on sky-high red heels worn with a sleeveless and tailored black dress that ended just above her knees. “Did you put ice on that eye?”

He made himself speak, act normal—he’d become pretty good at that after the length of time he’d loved her. “Yeah, past few hours.”

“What about last night?”

He shrugged.

Her glare could’ve cut steel.

Thankfully, the first reporter arrived a second later, and David spent the rest of the time making light of his new and hopefully short-lived notoriety. Interviews complete, he slipped away while Thea was talking to Abe, and once in his room, used his phone to do some research.

He had no idea how to write a memo, and if he was going to do this, he had to do it properly. The only question was, was he going to do this? Putting down the phone, he got up and, going to the living area of the suite, got down on the floor and began to do push-ups. It was an easy motion for him regardless of his bruised ribs. Like most working drummers, he had to stay highly fit or he’d never last an entire concert.

He usually put in gym time every day, often went running with Noah or Fox, or did weights with Abe. Today, the familiar, repetitive motion of the push-ups cleared his mind, helped him think.

He only wanted Thea with him if she wanted to be with him.

Thea had made it clear his interest wasn’t reciprocated.

But, as Molly had reminded him, Thea also had a first-class bastard of an ex. David didn’t know exactly what had gone on between Eric and Thea, but he could guess, given that Eric had publicly flaunted a new fiancée within two weeks of the breakup. A silicone-enhanced airhead who simpered and giggled on Eric’s arm and didn’t have an ounce of Thea’s feminine strength.

If fate had any sense of justice, the bimbo would divorce the fuckhead a year down the road and take Eric for every cent he was worth.

So, he thought, pumping down on his arms, then pushing back up, his body held in a punishingly straight line, it could have just been his timing that had led to her rejection. He’d waited six months after the breakup—until he’d thought Thea was okay, but what if she hadn’t been at that point? He knew exactly how good she was at putting on a professional, unruffled face.

Hell, he’d once seen her handle a press conference with panache when two hours earlier, she’d been throwing up from food poisoning. What if she’d still been pissed off with the entire male sex that day in her office? Was it possible she’d have rejected any man who walked in and asked her out?

He paused, body tensed to keep himself off the floor as hope uncurled inside him. Because Thea hadn’t dated
anyone
since the breakup. That wasn’t just wishful thinking: he’d accidentally overheard her business partner at the PR firm, Imani, talking to another mutual friend on the phone a week before the band left L.A.—he’d been in a conference room early for an interview, the door open to the corridor where Imani was on the phone.

He should’ve called out and let her know he was inside, but he hadn’t been listening at first; it was hearing Thea’s name that had caught his notice. And then he couldn’t not pay attention.

Imani, happily married to a surgeon, had apparently tried to set Thea up with a colleague of her husband’s, only to be stonewalled. “I know Thea’s over Eric,” the other woman had said, “but whatever el slimeball did, he might have put her off men permanently.” A sad sigh.

David wasn’t sad about Thea not dating. He was ecstatic. Because it made it easier to believe that it had been his timing at fault. Like Imani, he didn’t have any fears that Thea was still in love with the dickhead—no, she was too smart to put up with that kind of bullshit. That didn’t mean the bastard hadn’t hurt her; a woman as strong and as independent as Thea rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable, and David had a feeling her ex had used that rare, beautiful trust against her.

Fuck, but David wanted to kick the shit out of him. But more, he wanted to make Thea happy. Even if it meant taking a beating himself.

Getting up off the floor, he grabbed his phone and began to type out a memo on the tiny screen. It took him hours of drafting and redrafting to make sure it said exactly what he wanted it to say. He was still working on it when the band headed out to the concert location—where he saw the last person he’d expected.

Thea, now dressed in sleek black pants that hugged her butt and a soft, silky T-shirt of midnight blue under a dark gray blazer that nipped in at the waist, had come to say good-bye to Molly since the two women had missed each other that morning. Narrowing her eyes when she saw him, Thea ostensibly spoke to the entire band—but he knew the words were directed at him.

“If you want me to continue putting out fires for you,” she said, “do
not
do anything that interrupts my vacation.” A blistering look that was very definitely focused on David. “And next time someone tells you to put ice on a bruise, you listen!”

Then she was gone, her luggage already in the trunk of the car that was taking her to the airport for her flight to the Indonesian island of Bali, home to her parents and little sisters. He watched her step inside the car, its taillights fading far too quickly into the night.

Even then he didn’t send the memo.

No, he waited until the minute before the concert was about to begin before pushing Send and turning off his phone. At least this way, he wouldn’t be able to torment himself by checking for a response until after the show.

T
hea had barely sunk into
the comfort of a cushioned armchair in a quiet corner of the airline’s frequent-flyer lounge when her phone chimed. Putting down the glass of champagne she’d allowed herself in anticipation of the first real vacation she’d taken in over a year, she picked up her phone. It was impossible for her to simply ignore it—hazard of having a profession where a single leak or news report could change the trajectory of an entire career.

You never knew if it would be for good or for bad until it happened.

Seeing the message was from David, she felt her abdomen tense. He’d hardly spoken to her today, not that she could blame him. She’d been so worried about that eye of his that she’d snapped at him twice when all she’d wanted was to grip his jaw and check for herself that he was okay. He’d probably written her a nice, polite apology for not contacting her as soon as he was picked up by the cops… Only the thing was, Thea had had it up to here with David being polite to her.