Steady Beat (3 page)

Calculating groupie eyes, Pepper’s dad had called them. The eyes of a woman who planned to score herself a famous fuck, maybe even a famous offspring to snare a famous paternity payment.

The blonde wasn’t the only one though. The moment word had gotten out Nick Blackthorne’s band was in Rupert’s Bar, it had begun filling with women poured into tight dresses. Women who watched the four men like leopards waiting for the optimal time to attack.

The blonde had been but the first to make a move.

Pepper heard more than one competitor call the woman a skanky bitch. Pepper wanted to point out just how revealing the speaker’s neckline was, and how high the hemline of her dress.

She didn’t, of course. That would mean opening her mouth and drawing attention to herself. She didn’t do that.

And yet, she was running out of time to do that very thing.

What if the band left before she found the courage to put her plan into play?

What if—

Samuel Gibson and Jaxon Campbell stood.

As did Levi Levistan.

Pepper’s stomach dropped. “Oh no,” she whispered.

Like a blur in skin-tight red satin, the blonde moved from the bar, pressing her voluptuous curves to Samuel’s side. The lead guitarist smoothed his long-fingered hand over the woman’s ass as words Pepper couldn’t hear moved his lips. Jaxon threw a handful of bills onto the table, his smile wide, and then, with a wink at Noah, the three turned and walked away, the blonde flattened so close to Samuel’s side Pepper wondered how she managed to walk.

Movement from the corner of Pepper’s eye caught her attention. She froze, watching as two women dressed in body-hugging black leather damn near slithered over to the remaining band members. One woman stroked her hands up Noah’s muscular arm. The other trailed her fingers over Levi’s hip, skimming the sizeable bulge of his groin with black-polished nails.

Pepper’s heart smashed into her throat. She stared at the spectacle, cursing herself.

She’d failed. Again.

All she’d needed to do was speak to the band before they left. Easy, especially when the table they sat at was next to her section. But no, she’d held back, taken too long. And now, Noah and Levi were—

The women in black leather walked away from the drummer and keyboard player, disappointed scowls on their immaculately made-up, sultry faces.

Pepper’s breath caught.

She snapped her stare back to the musicians.

Noah rose to his feet, offering his hand to Levi.

They shook hands and then hugged. Levi slapped Noah on the back with a solid thump before leaving the table, dark sunglasses covering his eyes as he made his way toward the exit.

At least, Pepper assumed he was heading for the exit. She couldn’t tear her stare from Noah Holden.

He’d always been her favourite of the band. While her friends had creamed their panties over Nick or Samuel, she’d imagined what it would be like to meet the drummer. To stand close to him and feel his manic energy radiate from him as he awoke the throb in her very core. He was almost forty, eleven years older than her, but that didn’t make him any less sexy. Yet it wasn’t the desire to sleep with him that made her stomach knot and her mouth dry now. It was…

No pressure, no diamonds, chickpea.

Her father’s words whispered at the edges of her self-doubt.

She studied the drummer, the plan in her soul fed by the dream in her heart. A dream she’d held since the very first time she’d ever watched Nick Blackthorne perform live, ten years ago.

Driving her nails into her palms, Pepper drew a deep, slow breath, counted to ten and crossed to the lone member of the band.

“Hi, Mr. Holden,” she said, holding out her hand. God, she hoped it wasn’t sweaty.

Arctic-ice-blue eyes swung up to her, and for a split second Pepper almost turned and fled.

Almost.

And then Noah Holden smiled, that let’s-do-it smile that gave her hope, and Pepper lowered herself into the chair beside him, resting her elbows on her knees and giving him her own smile back. “I have a proposition for you.”

Chapter Two

Noah forced himself not to fidget. Or blink. If he blinked, maybe the goddess in hot pants would disappear in a puff of taunting smoke, leaving him wondering if she’d ever really been there.

Christ, her eyes were stunning. Bluer than he’d first thought, and flecked with deep-emerald green. And her skin. So flawless and creamy. The urge to lean forward and trace the tip of his tongue over the high curve of her cheek was damn near impossible to deny. As was the desire to snare the straight weight of her sable ponytail in his fist and pull her toward him. Her lips were made to be kissed. He could see that. Soft and full and devoid of lipstick or gloss. Just naturally beautiful and perfect.

His heart punched hard in his chest, pounding out a beat he’d hadn’t heard in his life for a very long time.

A beat he could move to.

She’s not a groupie, Holden. She’s your waitress.

The thought grounded him. They’d been in the bar for well over an hour, and she hadn’t come anywhere near them. If she wanted to sleep with him, surely she would have made her move before now.

“What proposition?” he asked, fighting to keep his voice detached. He reached for a peanut. He hated peanuts, but at least it gave him something to do with his hands.

What? Instead of burying them in her hair? Or smoothing them over her—

The goddess shifted a little, her butt barely perched on the edge of the chair Jax had so recently occupied. Her tongue slipped over her top lip in a quick little swipe. Her eyes closed for a split second.

An overwhelming sense of dismay hit Noah at the loss of their mesmerizing intensity on his face. He liked her looking at him. A lot.

“I’d like to sing for you.”

Her statement slapped into him like a cold fist.

He blinked. Had he misheard her? “Sorry? You want to what?”

She swallowed. Hesitation clouded her brilliant eyes. Her hands cupped her elbows. “S-sing for you. For…for the band. I’d like to audition for—”

The wind left Noah in a gush. He frowned, a prickling sense of disappointment washing over him. She didn’t want to sleep with him. She really wasn’t a groupie. Or a waitress hoping to score a famous tumble in the sack. She wanted to—

“Come again?” He leant forward. Perhaps he’d heard her wrong? He was known to mishear things. It came from not really keeping his attention on anything for long.

Huh, your attention has been on her from the second you saw her, Holden. You didn’t mishear.

The woman straightened her spine. She lifted her chin. Flattened her palms on her thighs. “Audition for lead singer.”

Noah stared at her. For the life of him, he didn’t know what to—

The woman jolted to her feet. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” She trailed away, her soft New York accent turning the last word to a murmured drawl. Before Noah could utter a sound, she turned and hurried from the table.

But she stopped two tables from his.

Her shoulders stiffened. Her hands balled into fists, opened, balled again.

Noah watched her shake her head, his gaze tracking the swishing wave of her long ponytail. His gut tightened. His throat did the same. It wasn’t until she swung back to face him that he gushed out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

She reached his table in three long strides, her intense blue eyes fixed on his face. She stood beside him, full breasts straining against the snug white cotton of her T-shirt as she placed her hands on the tabletop and bent toward him. “I’ll make you a deal,” she said, the words quick, her voice husky. “I read in an article in
Rolling Stone
that you have an amazing knowledge of music trivia. If I beat you in a music-trivia challenge, you let me sing for the band. Just that. All I want is the chance to…” She faltered, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, and then shook her head a little and drilled him with her stare again. “All I want is the chance to let you hear me sing. If I beat you at music trivia, you convince the rest of the band to let me audition.”

If I beat you.

Her words whispered through Noah’s whirling head. He couldn’t tear his gaze from hers. He should be telling her no, right now. He should be brushing her off, maybe even leave the bar to emphasize the point. He should be pissed she’d been eavesdropping. Instead, he studied her face—even more arresting and beautiful this close—as her words echoed through his mind.

If I beat you.

“And if I beat you?” The question left him on a murmured taunt.

The woman facing him down did the unexpected. She laughed.

Noah’s heart beat faster in his chest. His gut knotted. Christ, her laugh was wonderful. Rhythmical. It at once melted away the tension in her body and flooded Noah’s body with heat. Tight, thick heat threading its eager way to his groin.

Her laugh made him horny. Fuck, he’d thought her arse hot in her shorts, but her laugh…

“If I beat you?” he prodded, leaning closer to her. “What happens then?”

She licked her top lip with the tip of her tongue. “I…”

Noah reached up and traced his finger over her bottom lip. “I get to kiss you.” The bar disappeared. Nothing existed except the woman and her challenge. “I win, I get to kiss you. For as long as I like.”

The woman’s breath escaped her in a soft gasp. She pulled away from him—just enough to cause his finger to slip from her lip. If it wasn’t for the fact her pupils were dilated, Noah would think he’d offended her.

But he knew exactly what dilated pupils meant when a woman was with him—arousal. His gorgeous, conflicted waitress was turned on. Now all he needed was for her to—

“Agreed.” She held his stare, her shoulders straight. “I’m off work in twenty minutes. I’m going to bring you another scotch, on me, while you wait.”

Noah cocked an eyebrow. “Wait?” He’d never had a woman tell him he had to wait for her before. Even Heather had leapt at his every command on the rare occasion he gave them. Right up until she’d walked out with Maxie the mutt, that was. He’d told her to come back. To give him another chance. She hadn’t. “You want me to wait for you?”

His waitress nodded. “It’ll be worth it. Promise.”

“The kiss? You better believe it.”

She laughed, and once again Noah’s groin reacted to the rich, lyrical sound.

“I will be back. Don’t leave.”

He shook his head. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

The corners of her lips curled in a smile Noah could only call shy. Shy? How was that possible after the challenge she’d just laid down? Especially given the desire equal to his own he saw in her eyes.

Such a conflict. It was hypnotic. Sublime.

She turned and walked away from the table without a word. Noah could tell the subtle sway of her hips wasn’t an affectation designed to garner attention but her natural movement. Damn, he could watch her hips move like that all day. He couldn’t wait to smooth his hands over those hips and hold her to his body as he kissed her.

“Hey,” he called out, his pulse pounding faster when she threw him a quick look over her shoulder. “What’s your name?”

She lowered her lashes. A faint pink painted her cheeks. “Pepper.”

Holy crap, she’d agreed to kiss him? She wasn’t a groupie. She was a…a…okay, she didn’t really know
what
she was at this point in time when it came to Noah Holden, but kissing him? Just because he wanted her to?

And what the hell was up with that? Why would Noah Holden, the most amazing, sexiest drummer in the world want to kiss her? Anyone who knew
anything
about the rock-music industry knew he was in an eight-year-long relationship with a swimsuit model. Those same
anyones
would also know Noah Holden was renowned for his fidelity. Articles had been written about it. Hell, her dad’s name had been the byline of one such article only three years ago.

So why was Noah wanting to kiss her here? Now?

More to the point, why was she excited? It wasn’t like she was going to lose, even
if
the idea of kissing Noah Holden made her heart race and her pussy throb. Which it did. There was no way she was going to lose
this
trivia challenge. She’d only ever lost a music-trivia challenge to her dad, and the last defeat had been five years ago. As much as she wanted to feel the drummer’s lips on hers, Noah Holden was going down.

Big time.

She was going to beat him and then she was going to sing for him, for the band and blow them all away and never be a failure again.

That’s what she was going to do.

No kissing. Just singing.

She didn’t say anything to him when she returned to his table a minute later with his scotch. Her tongue tangled. She’d hoped the very fact he’d agreed to her challenge would have given her more courage to flirt with him, but it didn’t. She placed his drink on the coaster in front of him, the heat of his long body slumped in his chair warming her thigh as she bent over his table.