Dangerous Hearts: Rock Star Romance, 1 (Lyric & Wolf) (4 page)

We’re greeted by the receptionist and
guided to the very last room at the end of the hall with a spectacular view of
the Bay. As everyone takes their seats, I gravitate toward the window, taking
it all in. It’s funny. Open air heights terrify me. But this, staring behind a
pane of glass protecting me, no matter how high up, I can handle.

I can’t wait to get out on the road. It’s
views like this, and music like what’s streaming in from the conference room
speakers, that give me an itch that can only be scratched by the rush of life
on the road. Visiting different towns daily, bunking it on the bus until we can’t
hold out anymore and need a night of luxury in a hotel room, watching the stage
setup, hearing the excitement of the crowd, and driving away from the venue
with our veins still pumping with adrenaline.

It’s all a beast inside me. Energizing
me. Buzzing and driving life through my every aching bone. Beating down the
walls of my chest. I’m always aching for more of it all. More sights. More
sounds. The rush of the mob; fans crushing each other to get where I am. To get
closer to the band.

That crazy adrenaline that comes with
being on the road. Yeah. It makes up for the shitty beds and the lack of closet
space.

“You stare as if you’ve never experienced
it.”

I jump at Wolf’s intruding voice. “What?”

I understand the question; my answer is
just taking a bit longer to form after the vibrations from his nearness took
over my body. He chuckles. “Have you explored the city before? I could show you
around. Maybe after dinner?”

My head snaps toward him, and I'm ready
to unleash. The moment dinner is mentioned, I have a flashback to my ex, Tony,
and how that relationship all started with an innocent dinner.
Hell no
.

I’m prepared with a comeback. I was
honestly expecting it to take a little longer than five minutes, but it appears
I’ve underestimated him. “You and I”—I point my finger first in his direction
and then mine
—“
are not going to dinner together. There
will be no sightseeing trips or accidental drunken encounters. I am your road
manager. I coordinate travel, ensure your merchandise is stocked, confirm the
venues are prepared to keep you happy, manage the books, and keep you
organized. Is that clear? Dinner. Is. Not. Happening.”

Wolf surprises me by shrugging his
shoulders and stepping back. He’s laughing and that only pisses me off more.
“Okay, okay. For the record, I wasn’t asking you out. You’re not my type.”

I’ll be honest. I never would have
imagined those words coming out of his mouth. They leave a little sting behind
since he’s obviously talking about my looks. He knows nothing about me.

I’m still blushing as he continues.
“Seeing as you’re the
road manager
, I
thought you'd be joining us.” He waves a hand around the room. “All of us.”

Luckily, no one is witness to my
embarrassment, too engrossed in their own conversations. “We’re going out for a
bite after the meeting, but feel free to sit this one out. And the offer to
show you the city was me being nice because we’ll be here for two weeks and I
got the impression you’re no stranger to enjoying life in small spurts or
through a high-rise window. You look like you need some fun. Forgive me for
misreading it.” He walks away, but I hear what he says next. “Or for getting it
completely right.”

Wolf

Lyric hates musicians. That much is
obvious from her eager
refusal
of
my sightseeing offer
—
but
why such hostility? It’s true, my reputation precedes me. That’s no reason for
her to immediately throw judgment. Not that I’ll prove her wrong. I’ll probably
prove her right. It’s what I do. And I meant what I said. She’s not my type.
She might look the part
—
small, curvy frame,
generous tits, perfect complexion, plump lips
—
but
the fire in her chameleon eyes tells me she’s familiar with my
type,
as she deems it
.
W
e’re oil and
water. I’m a sex-driven rocker
,
and she’s a
victim of it all. As much as I hate that she has a preconceived notion of me,
she isn’t completely off. She’s been burned. It’s written in the depths of her
expression and I’ve seen it a dozen times before
.
Lyric Cassidy is
a relationship girl. A hopeful romantic. Any man to replace
her last will need to prove to her that he’s nothing like her ex.

I won’t be her hero.

This is where I bow out. I may not be
quite
the asshole she’s already pegged me
for
, but I don’t do relationships. Or the chase. But
sightseeing is harmless. Sort of. Maybe I should have suggested the trip during
the afternoon. That’s safer. Heaven knows I don’t fuck with the lights on. It’s
more convenient that way since the women I screw throw themselves all over me
the moment I step off the stage. I want the pussy
,
but I don’t care about the faces. I’ll forget them anyway.

It’s not like I’m proud of it. Sex is an
addiction, much like alcohol, drugs, gambling. I don’t do drugs
,
and I don’t gamble often. I drink with the rest of
them, but that’s not my addiction.

Sex is what I want. What I crave. What I
need
. Especially after exiting the rush
of the stage lights and
the
screams, the heat
of a woman wrapped around my cock is the only release that satisfies m
e
. Bare breasts in my mouth. Smooth skin beneath my
fingertips. Making her moan as I fill her with my adrenaline. Pounding. Over
and over until my name explodes from her lips because she can’t remember
anything else.

Fuck
. Why am I thinking about sex? I’m giving
myself a boner in a conference room ninety percent filled with dudes.

Because
of her.
She’s glaring at
me from across the conference table, still flush
ed
with embarrassment. Maybe she doesn’t hate all musicians, but she’s clearly
pegged me as her enemy. That’s fine.

Her reaction earlier tells me she’s
surprised by my disinterest. It’s pleasing to know I’ve already gotten under
her skin
,
but it wouldn’t be enough to get her
in my bed. Not that I’d go there. Lyric seems like a tough chick. And when a
girl like that gets burned, they lose trust and make every guy after suffer for
it. They seek the chase. They think the chase equals trust. The chase isn’t for
me. And I really don’t care if she trusts me. I don’t have that kind of time
,
and no girl is worth waiting for when there’s a
line outside my dressing room. A girl tells me no, I move onto another one who
says yes. It’s as easy as that, and let’s face it, no girl tells me no.

Challenges don’t make me fall in love.
Nothing will ever make me fall in love. There’s too much risk in that little
four
-
letter word. Words like that have no
place in my world. It’s probably a good thing Lyric made herself clear. Sooner
or later
,
I would
've
come
on to
her. Riddled heart aside, she’s
hot. I’m especially enamored with those pouty lips of
hers .
 . .
I’d let her wrap those lips around me. With a fiery personality like that, I’m
certain she
'd
know how to handle every inch.
Not to mention, we’ll be sharing the same tour bus for over three months—more
if I choose to keep her for the next tour
since
he
r contract states she’s mine for
up to
three tours. That’s nine months of staying
away.

The more I think about
not
getting inside Lyric, the harder it
is to concentrate on what Doug, our
t
our
directo
r, is saying.

He’ll be managing things from the office,
so it will just be Miss Cassidy and her blaze of fire
who
accompanies us. I’d like to say with confidence that Lyric was the best fit for
the job, but the tour company didn’t give me many options this time around and
I can’t help but question if she’ll be a fit.

I don’t doubt her skills. I checked up on
those and the tour company had nothing but great things to say about her. She
seems capable, strong, and according to the additional information I found, knows
the business as well as the rest of us. Maybe even better. Fuck, Mitch Cassidy
is one of my idols. But none of it changes the fact that I’ve never worked with
a chick road manager before. Hours are long. She’ll be surrounded by dudes, for
the most part. There’s a lot of male ass to kiss. A lot of schmoozing. And
she’ll have to deal with Crawley. I’m not sure if Crawley has a thing against
female road managers or Lyric in general, but he’s not a fan. Then again,
Crawley has a stick up his ass about pretty much everything.

“We’ve got a local crew handling the San
Diego show in a couple weeks. Lyric, feel free to attend as a guest that night.
Follow me around. Get to know your merch crew. Hang backstage. Hell, just enjoy
the show and have a good time. It will be a long three months before you get a
real break.”

I can’t help but smirk in her direction.
I’d like to know the last time she enjoyed something. And honestly, I’m
considering what my wager will be when the guys and I make bets at how long
she’ll last on the tour. The road isn’t for everyone. It’s for practically no
one, but the rush of the acoustics on stage is worth it.

“Where to for dinner, Wolf?” My bandmate,
Stryder, approaches me after the meeting. He’s one to go with the flow, looking
for others to make the decisions because he’s happy if everyone else is happy.

“Prado,” I answer immediately
.
I’ve been thinking about dinner since we scarfed
down fast food burger
s
and fries at lunch. The
only thing I hate about traveling is rushing through meals. Food excites me,
and Prado is the perfect venue for our night. I look over at Crawley and give
him the eye. He’s on it, finding the number and making sure we have a room
reserved.

To my surprise, Lyric tags along. She has
a
company
driver, and she’s entering the
backseat with someone else. A cute blond
e
in a
skirt and a Wolf tee. Good. If I can’t hit on Lyric, then maybe I’ll hit on
her friend
. It’s usually a good sign when they’re
wearing my face between their tits.

Prado is in Balboa Park, within the walls
of Historic House of Hospitality, a beautiful white castle-
like
structure with a private room
reserved
for us. Good thing because it’s about to
get rowdy. The moment we sit down
,
we order a
round of shots and a dozen bottles of wine. I toss back a shot and am handed
another one immediately. My crew knows what I like.

As I’m perusing the menu
,
the girls walk in and they’re welcomed enthusiastically.
They’re outnumbered. Not my favorite ratio. I try not to look up, but Lyric’s
laugh reels me in. It’s an infectious sound.

She’s standing there with
her blonde friend and
my drummer
,
Derrick. They’re all laughing
,
and for a moment I wonder if I misjudged her.
Everything in her demeanor is light and fun, the complete opposite of how she
acted back in that conference room.

Damn.
I kind of like watching her laugh. Maybe
I dismissed her too soon.

She must sense me staring because her
eyes dart to mine faster than I’m able to
look
away, and now I’m frozen. It’s too bad she didn’t want that sightseeing trip. I
wouldn’t mind spending a day gazing into those hot-as-fuck eyes while I showed
her how many ways
I
could make her come.

“Wolf, get your ass over here,” Derrick
calls.

Our stare down is interrupted as I’m
called over to the circle they’ve formed. I step around the table so I’m standing
directly in front of Lyric
while
Derrick
introduces me to her friend. Terese, he calls her. I shake her hand and
compliment her shirt. It’s far nicer than complimenting her rack, which is
frankly my favorite part. She giggles
,
as I
knew she would. I grin.

A long-stemmed waitress carrying a tray
of shots walks by. We all take one. “To a kick-ass tour and the hotties we’ve
yet to bone
!
” screams Hedge from the other
side of the room. He’s holding his drink in the air, waiting for the rest of us
to join in.

Hedge is probably the rowdiest of us all
and a ladies’ man for certain. He’s worse than
I am
,
but he’s also a kickass bass player, so he can do what he wants. He’s known for
his hair, a thick, curly mess that billows three inches from his head.

“I don’t know about you all
,
but I need to get some grub in me before I pass
out,” I
say
, holding up my empty shot glass.

“Good idea,” Lyric responds.

The boisterous chatter continues through
appetizers and dinner and into dessert. When the boys decide to get a taxi to
the nearest club, I surprise myself by refusing. I’m going to save the partying
for the tour. No need to get into any trouble before we even leave town.

We’re on the curb when the boys and
Terese find their taxi and hop in. I think Derrick has a thing for her, which
is fine. Her exaggerated responses to everyone
were
friction to my nerves anyway, and my focus kept shifting to Lyric’s smile all
night.

Since
when do I pay more attention to a smile than body parts?

Since Lyric.

I’m not oblivious to Lyric staring at me
now, her hand on the open door of her company-provided ride. We’re the only two
left. There’s a slight chill in the air, but it feels good, especially after
being stuffed among the other sausages in our private dining room.

“You need a lift somewhere, rock star?”

As tempting as the offer is, I’ve had
enough trouble keeping my thoughts of Lyric pure all night. I’ll blame the
alcohol, and the fact that I’m fucking horny. It’s been a few weeks. That’s a
lifetime for my cock. I’m certain I wouldn’t be able to hide my bulge in such
close proximity. I could probably come just by saying her name again.

Besides, I’ve got Rex, my bodyguard, at
the ready. I pull my hoodie over my head and place shades over my eyes. I’m
such a cliché.

“Nah, I think I’ll go sightseeing.
Alone.”

She’s smirking. “Suit yourself.” Her eyes
dart behind me to Rex. “Looks like you have a companion though.” Then she
winks.

She fucking winked at me. Maybe I
should
hop into her car. Teach her a few
lessons on how to handle that tongue of hers. I contain my own grin to just a
tug at one corner of my mouth.

As her car pulls away, I cross the street
and tak
e
the path through the park toward the
main street. Rex stays several yards behind me, giving me as much space as
possible. He’s a good guy. Ex-MMA fighter. Always ready to take someone out.
Never fucks around with the girls, even though they try. Grunts more than he
speaks, but he’s completely focused on the job. Protecting me from the crazies.
Keeping the paparazzi from getting too close.

The company always books the crew in the
same hotel, which is maybe a thirty-minute walk if I keep a steady pace. I’m in
no rush tonight. Time
to myself
like this is a
rare occurrence I cherish when I get it,
just
not for
too
long. I can only handle this kind
of silence in short sprints.