Cover Me: A Rock Star Romance (2 page)

I gave him an amused smirk. “Stop being such a diva and get over it. It was a bad review. So what? Can’t be the only one you’ve ever gotten? Or is it, superstar?”

He made a guttural growl deep in his throat, lifted his forehead and tapped it over and over again against the bar. “That’s not the point.”

“We’ll be here all night if you don’t start getting to it then.” I took another drink.

He turned his head to the side and looked at me. It wasn’t the face of a man who was being petty about a review. It was a man who was stung. “Whatever I did to make you hate me, Bess, was it worth trying to ruin my career over?”

“Ruin your career? Please.” I looked away from him and drained my glass.

Bast sat back and spun his drink in circles on the bar. “Forget that. That’s not why I wanted to talk to you.”

“If you think I’m going to take back that review, you’re wasting your time.” I pushed my empty glass forward, signaling for another. I drank the first so quickly, a nice, warm buzz was beginning to settle over me.

Bast turned toward me, his knee pressed against my thigh. His arm rested on the back of my chair. If I turned my head, our noses would be way, way to close. Almost touching. “What I want to know,” he said, his voice vibrating in my ear, sending shivers down my spine, “is if the review was honest, or because I somehow wronged you in high school and you’re still pissed about it?”

His breath was warm on my cheek with rich notes of oak and alcohol. I so badly wanted to swivel my head and be face-to-face with him. To chance our lips brushing, the feel of his cheek under my fingertips.

I blinked a dozen times to keep the suddenly overwhelming emotions from surfacing. My breathing was erratic, my fingers twitchy. The memory of the one stolen kiss we’d shared all those years ago was still raw and irritated.

It shouldn’t have been. It was so long ago.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in even closer. His fingertips touched my chin, and turned my head toward him. His eyes hinted at curiosity then fell to my lips. “Whatever it was, let’s make up.” He looked back up at me. “Forget you ever hated me.”

“I never hated you,” I said, too breathy to deny my attraction to him. “But, I won’t ever trust you again.”

We sat frozen for a few swollen moments, staring into each other’s eyes. I could see the need for answers written in his, but mine were giving nothing away. This was something Derek Bast needed to figure out all on his own.

I took a shaky breath and turned from him when the bartender sat my drink down. “To answer your question,” I said, and took a sip, “I’ve never reviewed your shows before. I avoid them because I’m afraid I can’t be objective. So, honestly, I don’t know. There might be a bit of both in that review.”

He reached up and placed a hand on the side of my head, tucking my hair behind my ear with his thumb. “That’s not fair, is it?”

I knew what he was doing. It was so blatantly obvious, a blind woman would detect it. But, he was so good at it. He was Derek—
my Derek
—the one I knew first, before all the other women who have ever wanted him. We grew up splashing in baby pools together. Our mothers were still best friends. He was my first kiss, my first true love.

Even if he never loved me back.

I’d missed him. His smile. His laugh. Hell, his voice even though it’s constantly coming through my stereo speakers.

“What do you know about fair?” I batted his hand away. I wasn’t that easy, even with him.

“Fair?” He grasped the seat under me and jerked it around so our knees collided. One hand still gripped the back of my chair, and he rested the other on the bar, trapping me between them. “Let’s see if you can tell me what’s fair about me going over to your house the day you were leaving for college and your mom telling me you were in the shower. I heard you, Bess. You told her to tell me that. You didn’t want to see me, but never told me why. Or, how about a few months after that on Christmas Eve when we were both home and your parents came over, but you didn’t. They said you were sick. You weren’t sick. You were avoiding me. Now it’s time to tell me why.”

He was so serious, I couldn’t help myself and laughed. “You think you can come storming into my office, bring me here and demand answers after all this time? It’s funny, never once in the past nine years have you wondered why I was upset with you. But, I write a review that becomes a thorn in your ass and suddenly you’re Mr. Let’s Forgive And Forget. Well, no.” I pushed his hand off the back of my chair and stood. “No, Derek. You can’t demand anything from me.” I straightened my skirt and took in the square line of his jaw, how it shook slightly. “I’m going to the ladies room. If we’re done here, I expect you to take me to my office when I come back.”

I took a few steps before he called, “We’re nowhere near done, Bess. Nowhere near.”

Derek

W
hen the hell
did Bess get so feisty? I thought I had her there for a minute. She was so close to giving in. Jesus, with any other woman, I’d already be in a room upstairs, naked and sweaty.

That wasn’t something I’d ever wanted before with Bess, so it was a strange thought. There was the one time we kissed and it was as much a shock to me as it was to her. I didn’t even remember who initiated it, but both of us agreed it wasn’t something that should happen again, so that couldn’t be what she was pissed about.

Why had we agreed it shouldn’t happen again?

Oh, right, because she wasn’t whoever she was now. This Bess was a temptress, intentional or not. Her hair was silky soft, her scent somewhere on the side of floral, but with hints of vanilla that made me want to lick her like an ice cream cone. And those freaking glasses. My God, I wanted to fuck her in her thigh highs, red heels and black-rimmed glasses.

I downed half my Jameson to settle down. The point of this meeting was to get her to retract her review, not to get her out of her skirt. She’d already shot down my attempt at that anyway.

I hadn’t planned on the word vomit that came out about the day she left for college or Christmas Eve. It pissed me off, though. No matter what happened between us, no matter that we didn’t talk all senior year, she was leaving—going away—and I figured whatever went wrong between us would be put aside to say goodbye. Apparently, she’d ridded herself of me long before then.

Too bad for her, I was back and not going anywhere until I had answers and a retraction of the review she admitted had a personal slant to it.

I slammed back the rest of my drink, heard her heels clicking on the tile floor toward me, spun around and stood up.

“Ready?” she asked.

“For dinner. I’m starving.”

She heaved a sigh and gave me an exaggerated blink. “It’s been nice catching up. Good luck to you, Derek.” Then she turned and headed for the lobby.

“Where do you want to eat?” I asked, not letting her off the hook. I glanced down at my jeans and t-shirt. “I’m not really dressed for anything too fancy, but I remember you love a good burger.”

She stopped and faced me, let her eyes wander over my face, then down to my chest, my waist, my legs. When she looked back up her expression was odd, almost sorrowful. “What?” I asked.

Bess shook her head slightly. “I don’t want to regret this.”

Her words were heavy with meaning. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that much meaning. “It’s only dinner.”

She reached up and put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s never
only
anything with you.”

I wasn’t sure she meant that in a good way or a bad way. Maybe she didn’t know either. “Burgers then?”

Bess let her shoulders relax and her mouth shift into a smile. “Burgers.”

She turned and strode toward the doors. “Forgiveness?” I asked.

“Not on the menu,” she said, flinging the words over her shoulder.

“Maybe not tonight…” I said.

“Maybe not ever.” She smiled at the doorman as we passed.

I gave the valet the ticket for my car and he had it pulled around. This time I made sure to open her door before the valet, and not just to get another look at her legs. But that was a bonus. I needed to put her at ease, to make her a friend again. A friend who didn’t want to sabotage my career.

Maybe a friend with benefits.

Seriously, how was she resisting me?

Traffic was a cluster, as always. We sat and crawled along. It gave us plenty of time to talk, but she didn’t utter a word, and neither did I. It was like a hold out. Who would talk first? Who was I kidding? We both knew it would be me.

“So, The Scene’s been around for what? Five years now?”

She fidgeted in her seat, sliding her hands under her legs. “Four.”

“And you’re already one of the top entertainment magazines in the country, right?”

“That’s right.”

She wasn’t exactly encouraging conversation. “How are Jean and Paul? And Emmy?” I already knew the answer. My mom filled me in on all the neighbors during our weekly call every Sunday night. Not that I asked.

“Fine. Emmy just had my third niece and Mom and Dad are travelling right now in Europe. Mom loves sightseeing at castles.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

She turned to me, eyes wide. “You’ve been?”

“To Europe, yes. Last year. On tour with Generic Obsession.”

“Right. G.O.”

I wasn’t sure if the way she said my old band’s name was suggestive of sarcasm or not, so I let it go. “Not a lot of time for touring castles, though,” I said.

“That’s too bad. I was there last year, too, covering the Inner Disgrace tour for The Scene. They got some down time for sightseeing, so that was fun.”

My eyes should’ve been on the road, but I couldn’t stop myself from staring at the side of her face. She had to feel my eyes on her, but kept right on looking straight out the front windshield.

Fucking Inner Disgrace. She toured with fucking Inner Disgrace. Jack Dickface Stewart headed up I.D. Did she sleep with him? With that fuckwad, Jack Stewart?

I pictured him on top of her and wanted to put my fist through something. Thinking of her with anyone gave me the urge to become violent. This was
Bess
. Bess from next door. Bess didn’t have sex with guys.

I was such a fucking idiot. Like she’d been waiting around to screw me all this time. I didn’t honestly think she was a virgin, but until right then, I didn’t think about her ever being with another man. Obviously, she had been. She was a smoking hot twenty-seven-year-old woman. Smart. Successful. Who wouldn’t want her? I was the only one too stupid to notice before today.

“Did I say something?” She asked, eyeing my white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“No. I mean, Inner Disgrace—Jack Stewart—isn’t my favorite topic, but it’s fine.”

“I should’ve realized. Being competitors…” She smoothed her hair and turned to look out the side window.

“Were you and Jack—you know,” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

Her head snapped back my direction. “How is that any of your business?”

“I guess it isn’t.”

“No. It’s not.”

She just kept shutting me down.

“Where are you taking us, anyway?” she asked, getting testy.

“My house.”

“What? Why?” She did this little head jerk thing that I remembered from high school. When she got mad I’d imitate her and she’d start laughing, but probably not anymore.

“Because I make better burgers than you can get anywhere else.”

“What if I tell you I’m vegetarian?”

Another shot to the nuts. “That would be regrettable.” I chanced a look in her direction. “Are you?”

She frowned. “No.”

I started laughing. “God, you hate me.”

“I told you
I don’t hate you.”

“You’re just determined to hate my burgers?” he said, still chuckling.

“I was looking for an excuse to get out of going to your house. It’s the last place I ever thought I’d end up.”

“You used to practically live at my house growing up.”

“I know.” It was difficult to think about all the time we spent together as kids. All the races through our back yards, forts under blankets, swimming until our eyes burned from the chlorine. “A lot’s changed since then.”

“What?” An edge of annoyance sounded in his voice. “What’s changed so much that you can’t come over and have dinner at my house?”

“For one, we’re adults.”

“So what? I’m going to throw you on my floor and ravage you because we’re adults? Is that what you’re afraid of?”

I
wasn’t
afraid of it and that was the problem. The thought of him ravaging me made my heart palpitate and my legs weak. It sent heat flushing up over my breasts. I’d thought of him making love to me more times than I could count. Infinite times since first learning what sex was all about and fantasizing about it.

“No. I’m not afraid of that. But, we’re not kids anymore. It’s…complex.”

“Invalid reasoning. You got any other flimsy excuses?”

I didn’t need anymore. He was reason enough with his dark-stubbled jaw, jutting cheekbones, intense gaze and a body Michelangelo could’ve sculpted. It looked like it was carved from stone. I wouldn’t mind running my hands over his chest, down his waist—this line of thinking had to stop.

“I was looking forward to going home and changing out of these clothes. They aren’t very comfortable.” It was a terrible excuse, but I didn’t want to give up and let him win unchallenged.

“I’m sure I have something you can throw on. Got anymore I can bat over the fence?” He looked over and winked. His eyes were obscene. Long and cat-like with a thick fan of black lashes. His profile was Romanesque. If it wasn’t for the small pock mark above his left eyebrow—a chickenpox scar—he’d be too perfect to be human. At least physically. Mentally and emotionally he was far from it.

“Sounds like you have an answer for everything.”

“Always do, Bessy Lou.”

Embarrassment flared inside me and I sat bolt upright, straining against the seatbelt. “Do
not
call me Bessy. That’s a cow’s name.”