Cover Me: A Rock Star Romance (9 page)

“Thanks.” I opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Oh! I saw Bess from next door. I went over to get the mail and caught her on her way to Emmy’s to visit her nieces. You know Emmy has three girls now?”

“She’s coming back? Bess?”

“I’d imagine so, unless she drives all the way back to L.A. tonight.” She put a plate of wrapped food into the microwave. “I always thought it was a shame the two of you lost touch seeing how you were such good friends and now you both live in the same city again.”

“Yeah.”

She buzzed around the kitchen, taking silverware out of the drawer and grabbing a napkin from the cupboard. “I always thought the two of you would become more than friends. Guess not.”

“I’m working on it.”

She spun around, eyes wide, an enormous smile on her face, and I knew that, once again, I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “What do you mean?”

“It’s complicated. We have this love/hate thing going on and I’m trying to figure out why the hate. She’s not helping by being stubborn and a little nuts.”

Mom let her hand fall onto the countertop with a thud. “When did this start?”

“Couple days ago. She tore me up in a review in her magazine. I confronted her about it. It was the first time I saw her since we lived here.”

“The Halprin women are all crazy,” Dad said, strolling into the kitchen and plopping down into the chair next to me.

“Oh, they are not!” Mom said, turning around to open the beeping microwave.

“I don’t care if she’s your best friend. She dumped lawn clippings on our side of the fence.”

“It was an accident. She meant to put them in their compost pile and some went over onto our side. What’s the big deal?”

Mom sat a plate of chicken, potatoes and green beans in front of me. “Thanks, Mom.”

“It is a big deal,” Dad said.

I resisted the urge to get in my car and drive—away—anywhere else. When I was gone, I missed being here, but when I was here, I wanted to leave. It was a vicious cycle.

“So, you’ve got a thing for Bessy Halprin.” Dad rested his forearm on the table. “Big shocker.”

“Don’t call her Bessy to her face. It gets ugly.” I took a bite of bland, dry chicken and washed it down with a gulp of water.

“Have you asked her out on a date?” Mom asked, pulling out a chair across from me.

This situation couldn’t get more excruciating. How did I end up with my parents giving me dating advice? “We went for drinks and then I had her over for dinner. It all went to hell before we ate.”

“What happened?” Mom’s eyebrows tilted and she reached across the table to pat my hand, all concerned.

“I’m betting he has no idea what happened.” Dad said, whacking the table. “That’s typically how it works.”

“No clue,” I said, between bites of green beans. “One minute everything was great, the next she was leaving.”

Mom looked skeptical. “Something had to have happened.”

“It did. Nine years ago, but she won’t tell me what. Apparently, to win this game, I have to figure it out and then grovel for her forgiveness.” I dropped my fork onto my plate.

“Keep eating.” Dad motioned toward my plate. “No woman’s worth losing your dinner over. Especially when you’ve got them lined up. Let her play her own games. Go find a more agreeable one.”

Mom smacked him with the back of her hand. “If Bess is the one he wants, we should help him. I’ll call Jean and we’ll work it out.”

“God no. Please. Don’t ask her
mother
.” I cringed at the thought. “I’m not in junior high.”

Mom pursed her lips, indignant. “Well, if I do find out, I won’t tell
you
.”

“You have a talent for pissing off women, son.” Dad grinned. “I’m going back in to watch Dateline.” He grabbed a bag of chips and lumbered back out to the T.V.

“I appreciate that you want to help, Mom.” I took my plate to the sink and rinsed it. “But this is something I need to work out with Bess on my own. Okay?”

She frowned, but uncrossed her arms. “Okay. But the offer stands.”

“Okay.” I hugged her and rushed out of the kitchen before I got myself into any more trouble.

I took a hot shower washing the sweat and sand—and Bess—off me, then sat on my bed with my guitar where I had a direct view of the Halprin’s driveway and Bess’s bedroom window. I felt like a sniper or a stalker. Guess it depended on what mood I was in: wanting to kill her or obsessed with wanting her. Right now it was a lot of both.

An hour passed, making it a quarter after ten. I figured she must be staying with her sister and focused on my music instead of gazing out the window like a lovelorn idiot. I jotted down True North at the top of the page and strummed the chords I’d worked on last night.

Over and over, I played them, letting them sink in. Making my fingers able to play the notes without thinking about it. I leaned back, closed my eyes and let my subconscious guide me. I wouldn’t remember anything, even the good combinations that resulted, but the process always relaxed me and put me in the zone to work.

My mind wandered. It wasn’t a mistake to fire my manager and walk away from the contract with Unholy Union, but the way it all went down left me with a bitter taste, a bit like shame. I’d had enough and it was time to put an end to doing business the ‘right’ way. The only right way I ever found was doing it my own way, but even if it was time to step away, people in the industry talk and they don’t mind blacklisting those of us who don’t conform to their ways.

Then there was the review that sent me over the edge. I was convinced she was out for blood. That every word she wrote was personal and aimed to take me down. Coming to the conclusion she was right was a kind of out-of-body experience. How had I gotten so far from where I started? Reinventing yourself was one thing, but becoming someone so far from who you planned to be was something else.

And that house I was staying in. Derek Bast of the past would’ve taken one look at that modern monstrosity and turned right back around. I’d never spent time anywhere so cold and austere. Give me an old farmhouse or crumbling Victorian on the wrong side of town any day over the cash-clouded view from the cedar deck of Joe Schmidt’s corporate house.

“What are you playing? It sounds tortured. Your poor parents.”

I jolted upright. Bess stood outside my window. I had no idea what to say to her and if I opened my mouth, some smartass remark would likely come out, so I said nothing.

“Aren’t you talking to me?” she asked.

“What can I say?”

“How about come in?” She shoved my screen up and reached a hand in for help.

“It’s been a long time since I dragged you in my window.” I clasped her hand and pulled her up and in. “My mom told me she ran into you. You went to see your nieces?”

“Yeah. They’re cute. And obnoxious and loud, but cute.”

“Good.” I sat on the side of my bed and looked at her. What did she want from me? What the hell did she expect? “Bess, this hot and cold shit is fucking with my head.”

She blinked a few times, stunned. “Do you want me to go?”

“You know I don’t, but you’re going to end up leaving anyway as soon as I say or do the wrong thing.” I rested my elbows on my thighs and trained my eyes between them, down to the floor. “Should I sit here and say nothing? That’s the only way I can see that this works.”

She stepped in front of me and I let my eyes wander up over her leggings and her long, filmy shirt to her face. “Why do you have to wear things that make me want to touch every inch of you?” I held up a hand. “I don’t mean you shouldn’t wear whatever you want. That was supposed to be a compliment—me wanting to touch you.”

She put a finger over my lips. “Derek? Shut up. I’m here because no matter how much my brain tells me to stay the hell away, my body won’t stop begging me to be with you.”

Her hands came to my shoulders and she pushed me back onto the bed and climbed on top of me. “I hope you locked your door so your Mom doesn’t walk in on us.”

I didn’t matter that my dick was screaming in victory, I wasn’t going to play this game. “Bess, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman in my life, but I won’t have sex with you.”

Humiliated, I fumbled,
trying to climb off of him. He grabbed my arms. “Don’t you dare leave again.”

“You’ve managed to make me feel like shit in five minutes. I think that’s a new record.” I couldn’t look at him and kept trying to pull free. “Let go of me.”

He flipped me to my back and bent over me with his knees on either side of my hips and his hands pinning my wrists above my head. His dark hair hung down over his forehead and his eyes flamed with anger. “I want to rip every shred of clothing off your body and make love to you for days on end. I want to make up for every second of every year I wasted not being inside you. I want to fucking live there.” He jerked my wrists up off the mattress and pressed them down again. “Do you understand?” His chest heaved and his nostrils flared. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you screw with my head. You either want me and tell me what I did to you and let me make it right, or you walk away and don’t come back. No more fucking games, Bess.”

I jerked my head up, but couldn’t budge him. “Games?! That’s what you think my feelings are?
Games?
”

“You don’t know how the hell you feel. You don’t know if you want to fuck me or kill me. Hell, you just told me your mind wants to stay away and your body wants to be right here underneath me.”

We glared at each other, panting. His head lowered, his mouth so close his breath landed warm on my lips. I arched my neck, reaching for him. He lifted his head, shifting away. Defeated, I let my head fall. He stared at me, his teeth locked together, his jaw shaking. Then he dipped his head again, lust darkening his gaze.

My body was on fire. I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist and feel his mouth teasing my nipples again. I flicked my tongue out. The tip laved his bottom lip. “Please,” I whispered.

His eyes closed and his mouth opened slightly. His grip on my wrists tightened. “Don’t.”

I had to quell the all-consuming ache to have him deep inside me. He couldn’t refuse me. “I can’t promise what I’ll feel tomorrow, but tonight I don’t want to kill you. I want to fuck you. Hard and fast and then again, slow and soft.”

He gritted his teeth, his brow furrowed. “Do you know how tempting you are?”

“You can have me. Right here. Right now. Please.”

“Don’t beg.” He stood and pulled me up with him. “You have to make up your mind. It’s hot or it’s cold. No more having it both ways.”

His cock stood out against his pants. I rubbed my palm up and down against it. I didn’t want to decide, because if I were smart, I wouldn’t risk getting hurt by the one man that could tear me to pieces. But making the decision to walk away forever wasn’t one I could make.

He took my hand away and kissed my palm. “You won’t distract me. I want to know your decision. You want me or you walk. Which is it?”

“What happened to A.P. Friendship? I thought I was calling the shots?”

He ran his hand through his hair and turned away from me, leaning on the window frame and looking out toward my house. “I failed A.P. Friendship this afternoon.”

I stood behind him watching the slight rise and fall of his broad shoulders. If I thought he’d welcome it I’d press up against him, push my breasts into his back, and squeeze his tight, round ass. Instead I waited, aggravated, itching for his hands on me. “Derek, turn around.”

He glanced back at me. “What’s your decision?”

I grabbed his arm and tried to turn him around, but he wouldn’t budge. “Stop being so stubborn!”

“
Me?
I’m the one being stubborn?”

There was a knock on the door. Derek winced and dropped his head into his hands. “You’ve opened up Hell on us now.”

“Derek?” Mrs. Bast called on the other side of the door. “Are you arguing with someone in there?”

“It’s fine, Mom,” he said, dropping his hands and shaking his head. He gazed over at me, rolled his eyes and mouthed,
fucking nightmare
.

“Who’s in there with you? It’s Bess, isn’t it? Her car’s back.”

I bit the side of my cheek, doing my best not to laugh. “It’s me, Mrs. Bast. Derek and I are just talking. Sorry it got a little loud.”

“Oh. Okay, Dear. Well, if you need anything, just yell.”

“Okay!” I couldn’t hold back any longer and burst into silent fits of giggles.

Derek followed suit, bending at the waist. “I’m twenty-seven god damn years old. I have five platinum albums and two Grammys.” He sat with a bounce on the side of the bed. “I’ve gone years without being here, but when I’m back, I’m instantly sixteen again.”

“It’s the curse of the only child. By the time I came along six years after Emmy, my parents let me eat ice cream for breakfast and color on the walls. There’s only so much concern to go around.”

He leaned back on his hands and stretched his legs out. “Lucky me. I get it all.”

I sat next to him, angling my knees up on the bed beside him. “I’m surprised she didn’t make us leave the door cracked like she used to.”

He let out a sharp laugh. “I’m not. If I knocked you up right now, she’d be the happiest woman alive.”

Taken aback, I sat up straight and looked down at my hands twisting together in my lap. Imagining being with Derek was one thing I could try to battle myself from doing, but adding on being pregnant with his baby and his parents being happy and… I blinked feeling the tingling burn of tears from too many daydreams that couldn’t come true.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

I cleared my throat. “It was a bit abrupt, that’s all.”

Maybe he didn’t realize, but I was twenty-seven, too, and what Emmy had with her husband, John, and my nieces was what I wanted to have one day soon. Derek Bast was not husband and father material, at least not the man I thought he was. The past couple of days had me wondering if I’d been wrong about him, though.

I looked up at him and thought about the decision he asked me to make. “Breaking your contract and firing your manager took a lot of guts. It’s something only a certain kind of man would do.”