KADE: A Second Chance Rockstar Romance Page 2

  “And Cami!” Shay adds. Hopefully, no one notices me flinch. The thought of the woman who I paid to watch my daughter going off on our family vacation as some twisted mother figure makes me want to throw up.

  “I wish you were coming with us, Mommy.”

  “You’ll have a great time with your daddy!”

  “And Cami.”

  “Yes, and Cami.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE they booked all of this for just the two of us.”

  Jenny’s company car picked us up at my house early this morning. A few hours later, we were unpacking our bags in the most luxurious hotel I’ve ever stepped foot in.

  The suite at the Hotel Reginald is nicer than the resort Bob took me to for our honeymoon. Hell, it’s nicer than my house. Stunning would be the best way to describe it. Everywhere I look is leather, glass, and fancy fabrics. If this is our suite, I can’t begin to imagine what the band’s rooms look like.

  “This is The Fool’s Gold tour. It starts extravagant, but once all the press dies down, and the tour gets underway, it won’t be as affluent. We’ll be stopping in several cities along the East Coast, so sometimes, we’ll be staying in hotels, and other times, we’ll be sleeping on the bus.”

  The bus. My nose wrinkles at the thought. I haven’t even gotten there yet, and I’m already dreading it. Sleeping on a bus sounds about as pleasant as a pap smear. Just Jenny, me, and five sweaty, self-centered men stuck in a tin can on wheels.

  “What’s the matter? What’s this face about?” Jenny points her skinny finger, moving it back and forth in front of my face.

  “Just wondering what Shay’s up to.” Dropping her off yesterday was rough. When Cami answered the door, she barely even looked at me. The girl stole my husband. The least she can do is look me in the face like an adult before whisking my kid off to another country.

  “I know you worry. But Shay is going to be fine. Bob would never let anything happen to her.”

  Shay’s safety in Bob’s care isn’t what’s upsetting me. As I was hugging her goodbye, she whispered in my ear, “You’re gonna be okay, Mom. I’ll be back before you know it.” Hearing my eight-year-old’s consoling words gutted me. I’m setting a piss-poor example for her. It’s no wonder she’s so obsessed with superheroes—she needs to seek outside influences to teach her how to be a strong, independent woman. I’m a failure.

  “It’s just the voices in my head playing tricks on me, ya know?”

  “Voices, huh? Pretend you’re deaf.” Jenny’s face splits into a grin. “Now, let’s get dressed for the meet and greet. Are you ready to come face to face with Kade ‘rip my clothes off’ Black?”

  “Oh jeez, Jenny, you’re so embarrassing.” I laugh, but the question burns in the back of my mind as I put on the outfit Jenny picked out for me. Am I ready to come face to face with the man I’ve fantasized about for over a decade? The odds of him turning out to be a pompous jerk are pretty high. I’ve spent more than enough time with a guy like that already. The last thing I want is to be stuck on a bus with another one.

  “I’m not so sure about this outfit,” I call out to Jenny as I check myself out in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. “I feel like an old lady trying to be hip.”

  She saunters into the bathroom, looking flawless as usual. Her silver mini dress hugs her slender curves and shimmers as if she’s covered in a thousand mirrors. “You’re crazy. You look amazing in that outfit. Those pants look delicious on you, I swear.” The dramatic lick across her pink lips drives her point home.

  Jenny insisted on choosing this outfit herself. The high-waist black leather pants are so tight they fit me like a second skin. The knee boots are great, but the heels are skyscraper high and could probably double as weapons. My usually short legs appear as though they’re a mile long. I love a sexy shoe, but these are a bit overkill.

  “Stop fidgeting. You look gorgeous.”

  The beads holding together the strip of silk covering my front clink together as I try to check myself from all angles. This shirt was really nice on the hanger, but I’m not so sure about it on me. It drapes dangerously low in the front. The whole top leaves very little to the imagination. One sudden movement and I’m going to get arrested for indecent exposure.

  This is so not me. I’m a basic jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. My normally plain face and yoga pants scream New Jersey housewife and not the glamorous ones you see on TV.

  “Well, I feel naked.”

  A dismissive wave is her response to my cry for help. “Your makeup looks awesome, by the way. Good call on the smoky eye.” She tousles my huge bouncy waves, adding an extra oomph of volume. “Come on, we have to go.”

  A mix of reporters, fans, roadies, and other assorted workers mill about the banquet room, having drinks and picking from the buffet when we arrive. I fiddle with my hands, unsure what to do with myself. “Here,” Jenny says, shoving a glass into my hand. “You look like you’re ready to jump out of your skin. Have a drink, loosen up.”

  The smell of Crown Royal wafts out of the glass. “Whiskey and Coke?”

  “Yeah, you look like you need something stiff. Thought you could use a cold beverage too.”

  “I feel weird being here. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Just stick with me. You don’t actually have to do anything.”

  A short man with stiff hair catches Jenny’s eye and walks our way. “Vic, nice to see you again!” she says, extending her hand. “This is my assistant, Ainsley Daniels. Ainsley meet Vic Bellagio, manager of Black Diamond.”

  “Good to meet you, Ainsley. Welcome to the tour.”

  Vic’s power suit looks like it cost a fortune but doesn’t hide the fact he looks beaten down by life. His age is hard to place; somewhere between forty and fifty, I’d say. His face seems young, but the salt and pepper hair and lines around his mouth make him appear older. That, and his eyes are so bloodshot, I’m tired just looking at him.

  Before my very eyes, Jenny morphs from party girl to business suit Barbie. She and Vic dive into shoptalk, going back and forth about schedules and appearances, while I stand there having no idea what the hell they are talking about.

  Jenny’s clout on this trip so far is a real eye opener. When I think of Jenny, visions of keg stands and streaking come to mind. The girl I grew up with is not the powerful woman who stands before me right this moment. She’s like the human equivalent of a mullet—business in the front and party in the back.

  “Is the band ready to come in? I’d like to do some introductions first, then Rock Show Magazine would like to take some photos for an article they are writing about the tour.”

  My stomach churns at the very mention of the word introductions. The whiskey has done very little to calm my nerves, even though the glass clutched in my hand is nothing but ice now. I’m wound so tight I’m ready to bounce around the room. I don’t know if I’m elated or nauseous—probably somewhere in the zone of both.

  A ruckus in the bar area calls our attention. “There they are,” Vic replies. “Right on time.”

  Jenny saunters over like she owns the place, while I trail behind wishing I were invisible. “Jennifer Price and Ainsley Daniels, I’d like you to meet Black Diamond. JJ McGarity, Konner Langdon, Lance ‘Banger’ Allen, and . . .” Vic points out each musician then trails off, narrowing his gaze at the band. “Where the hell is Kade? I thought I instructed you guys to make sure he was here on time? We have a schedule!”

  “Don’t have an aneurysm, Vic; I’m right here.”

  The smooth, deep voice that flows in from behind me sucks all the oxygen from the room like a vacuum. My palms grow damp. Actually, everything grows damp. Kade Black is right behind me, and I’m four seconds from hitting the floor.

  “Thank God. I don’t want another incident like the one in Oklahoma. We need this concert to go off without a hitch, Kade—I mean it.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I told you that wasn’t my fault. Those two farm girl
s needed the hick banged out of them. I was doing the world a service, Vic.” His voice is deep and rich, the way you’d imagine dark chocolate would sound if it could speak. Sinful, but way too tempting to turn down.

  “Well, in the future, provide those kinds of services on your own time. Now,” Vic starts, replacing his scowl with a plastic grin, “please meet our new public relations manager, Jennifer Price.”

  I turn to look, then grunt when my face hits a wall. A thick, bulging, lickable wall that smells like heaven. “Whoa, girl,” he says, his enormous hand consuming my bare shoulder.

  Holy. Crap.

  My gaze travels up his body. Way up. He has to be six-five, easy. Even with these stilts on my feet, I’m still just facing his chest. Not that I’m complaining. My mouth waters just looking at him. You’d think I’d just gotten out of an all-women’s prison. A simple button-down shirt clings to his sculpted torso in such a way that I want to reach out and touch him to see if he’s real. Tattoos peek out beneath rolled up sleeves, black jeans hug him in all the right places, and the scent . . . He’s a splendid mix of soap and spice and something else I can’t quite place, but it’s all man and totally intoxicating.

  It takes a whole five beats to catch my breath and find my voice. I’m not just star struck; I’m blown away. He’s big and beefy and sexy as hell.

  Dark blue eyes stare down at me, half shaded with a wild dark mass of just-woke-up bedhead. “Don’t go fallin’ for me now,” he jokes with a wink and a grin, a hint of Southern charm flowing through his words.

  Focus and speak, Ainsley. Stop drooling on yourself like an idiot.

  “Uh . . . Hi, I’m Jennifer Price.” Jenny stretches her hand out between us, saving me from the most embarrassing moment of my life. All he did was smile, and I may as well be a puddle of goo on the carpet. How am I supposed to go three weeks like this?

  He takes her hand, his eyes flitting back and forth between us like a predator, wondering which one he’s going to eat first. “This is my assistant, Ainsley Daniels,” Jenny continues, completely unaffected by both his presence and the heat that’s radiating off him like the sun. Or maybe it’s just me who’s hot? I don’t know. But when he looks back in my direction, his eyes scan me from top to bottom, pausing on my cleavage before turning back to his bandmates.

  The next hour is a blur. I just can’t take my eyes off him as he speaks. That smooth, sexy voice sounds so much better in person than on television. The way he carries himself demands attention. I can feel his presence in the room. Every time I glance in his direction, I’m greeted by piercing eyes that take my breath away. He watches me, his gaze caressing my skin in a way that affects my thoughts and makes me blush. I want to look away, but I can’t. He’s impossible to ignore.

  ***

  The scene stretched out before me is like the last days of Caligula. The dance floor at the nightclub ripples like an orgy. Bodies writhe and grind and touch with wanton disregard like an STD mosh pit. I sit alone at a table in the VIP room just watching. The smell of sweat and sex thickens the oxygen, making it hard to breathe. Or perhaps it’s the smell of my own self-doubt causing the stifling air around me. I may look the part tonight, but I’m not sexy or risqué like any of the half-naked girls stalking the club.

  A bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses clang on the table in front of me, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. My gaze travels up a tattooed forearm, past a rippling bicep and a strong shoulder, to lock on a pair of eyes so blue, they are hypnotic. The shade is a color so unique there isn’t even a name for it, and I should know. Art is my thing.

  Kade flips the chair next to me backward, kicks his leg out, and sits, crossing his forearms over the back of the seat. “You look like you could use a drink.” The miniature glass perched on his fingertips shines in the lights like a chocolate diamond. I stare down at the brown liquid without moving. My attempt at being inconspicuous worked against me. In a room dripping with debauchery, I stick out like a sore thumb.

  Jenny isn’t around to save me now. The disco ball shine of her dress casts shards of light all around her as she moves and sways in my peripheral vision. At least one of us is comfortable. She dances freely, while I’m doomed to sit on the sidelines, nursing my two left feet. Another thing making it abundantly clear that I don’t belong here.

  “Don’t you talk?” Kade lifts my hand from my lap, forcing me to take the glass. “Loosen up, princess. It’s a party,” he drawls, downing his shot, and pouring himself another.

  The sardonic way he calls me princess ruffles my feathers. He’s patronizing me, and I don’t appreciate it. I place the shot on the table and cross my arms over my chest in a huff. “I don’t care for whiskey, thank you very much.” While I fancy myself more of a Pinot Grigio gal in the comfort of my own home, going out with Jenny all these years has made me quite fond of the occasional whiskey and Coke. But I wasn’t going to give Kade Black the satisfaction of knowing that.

  The corner of his mouth quirks up into a devastating grin that kicks up my heart rate and hatches another litany of butterflies in my stomach. I try my best to remain annoyed and pretend I’m not drooling into my own cleavage. The man’s confidence is locked and loaded. He has the market on sex appeal cornered and takes advantage of it being at his disposal. “Take the shot. Maybe that stick in your ass will fall out all on its own.”

  My mouth drops open in disbelief. What did that cocky asshole just say to me? Laughing at my horrified expression, he swallows his second shot. “I can assure you, Mr. Black, that I do not have a stick up my ass.”

  Like Eve offering up a sacred apple, he lifts the shot glass again. The arch of his brow and mischief in his eyes dare me to eat my words. I swipe the glass from his fingertips and suck the shot back in one gulp. Tears sting my eyes as the acrid taste of straight whiskey burns its way down my esophagus. “Happy?” I wince.

  “Almost.” He pours another and slides in front of me. This time, I throw it back without hesitation. I’m completely giving in to peer pressure, I realize, but something about him is so persuasive. I can’t figure out what it is that’s drawing me in. Sure, he’s handsome, but it’s more than that. He has an energy around him. A force field. The more I fight it, the harder I feel the pull.

  Jenny’s green eyes lock on mine. Yellow circles dapple her skin from the lights reflecting off her sequined top as she saunters over. “Come dance with me!”

  Before I can protest, her hands are on mine, pulling me onto the illuminated dance floor. A palette of neon colors drips down her white blond hair. She knocks her slender hip against mine and twirls me in a circle. Heavy bass thumps from the speakers. The spinning and the alcohol combined forces my hips to move. It flows through my body and out my fingertips. I close my eyes and let the beat take over.

  The smell of spice and whiskey wafts from behind me and long fingers close around my waist. Only one man in this whole room has hands that big. The booze and music drop my defenses to a manageable level. His hand slides down my back, gently bending me over, and pats my ass before rubbing the sting away. He moves to the beat, grinding against me. I go with it, dancing without a care, while he dry humps me from behind, pressing his growing erection against my backside. The butterflies in my stomach flutter like gangbusters, flapping around and stirring up desires I didn’t even know I was capable of having.

  I spin around to face him. The neon lights overhead shine on his black hair, filling it with splotches of bright, bold color, but his eyes darken with heated desire. We stop dancing altogether. The heat from his hand encompasses the bare skin on my back, while his knee sits firm between my legs. He leans, pulling my body flush against his and grazing my ear with his fabulous lips, filling it with his husky whisper. “I bet you’re just as sweet as sugar.” I swallow hard, my entire body quivering.

  “I got a shot at the bar with your name on it, Kade.”

  A girl who doesn’t even look old enough to drink stands next to us, her huge fake boobs push
ed up to her throat, and her shorts rammed up her tight behind.

  The fire in his eyes fizzles out. He breaks his tight embrace and follows her toward the bar, leaving me standing there alone and stunned. My body still vibrates from his touch, but my self-esteem is shot to hell. What is it with men and younger women?

  CHAPTER 4

  DAYLIGHT SLICES THROUGH the windows. The tiny rock concert going on inside my head is unrelenting. With a groan, I crack open my eyes wondering where I am and trying like hell to remember what happened last night. The mattress dips and moves. An arm covered in ebony ink falls over me and pulls me close to the mystery body in my bed. A body that smells too damn delicious for words.

  Please don’t be who I think it is.

  The pounding in my head is unbearable as I struggle to sit up. The last thing I remember is . . . shit . . . what is the last thing I remember?

  Memories of the night before pop in my brain like camera flashes. I remember dancing. And I definitely remember shots. Everything beyond that is still a bit fuzzy.

  “Go back to sleep.” Pillows muffle the baritone, but I recognize the voice without even having to look.

  What the hell did I do?

  I poke my fingers into his side with a timid little push. “Uh . . . Mr. Black. Um, wake up.”

  He doesn’t move.

  “Mr. Black, I’m going to need you to get up. Now!”

  He groans but still doesn’t budge.

  “Kade!” I yell, wincing at the sound of my own voice.

  “What?” he whines, looking up at me with the sexiest sleepy eyes. The pounding in my head rivals the one between my legs in an instant. My thighs rub together, trying their best to extinguish the sudden flames that have taken over the lower half of my body.

  Kade Black is in my bed. Naked.

  “Can you please enlighten me as to why you’re in my bed?” I ask. “What happened last night?”

  “You got hammered and were walking aimlessly in the parking lot mumbling to yourself, so I brought you back to the hotel.” He grins and flops onto his back. “You’re right. Whiskey really isn’t your thing. Who’s Bob?”