Sex, Gossip and Rock & Roll. Nicola Marsh
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up the music, unconsciously humming along with her favourite pop ballad. Of course he had to go one better, singing along in perfect tune, the lyrics sounding like erotic pillow talk tripping from his lips.
She gulped, her hands clenching the steering wheel so tight her knuckles stood out. A hot flush started somewhere in the vicinity of her belly and spread upwards and outwards, burning her up from the inside out as he crooned about touching and pleasure and all night long.
‘Interesting taste in music,’ he said when the song thankfully ended and she sighed in relief.
‘I like pop. Didn’t peg you for a fan, though.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Don’t guys go in for heavier stuff?’
She jumped when he reached across and squeezed her hand on the gear stick.
‘Thought you’d have figured out by now, I’m not your average guy.’
‘No, you’re more annoying than most.’
Though that was a lie. Sure, he’d done his best to wind her up when they first met, was still doing it in fact, but he wasn’t annoying so much as intriguing. And that was what made her mad; that she’d been all set to dislike him, and every time he opened his mouth only reinforced the fact, but she couldn’t.
He was the first guy in ages to pique her interest, to make her want to retaliate. The first guy to make her body tingle from top to toe, to make her skin prickle with awareness, to make her yearn for more than a teasing brush of his lips.
‘Why don’t you admit it?’
Grateful she had to focus on the freeway, she didn’t need to look his way to hear the laughter in his voice.
‘Admit what?’
‘That I’m growing on you.’
‘Yeah, like fungus.’
‘Now who’s the child? Didn’t that one get used around third grade?’
‘Should be about your level, then.’
She saw him recline his seat out of the corner of her eye and wriggle around to get comfortable before clasping his hands behind his head.
‘You know, I’ve been around the block a few times. Dated princesses, movie stars, models. But you, you’re something else.’
She didn’t know if he’d just complimented or insulted her but the thought of him being with all those women served as a wake-up call. He’d said it himself. He’d been around and no way was she foolish enough to become another string on his guitar.
‘So you’ve slept around a lot. Doesn’t make you a good judge of women.’
‘Who said anything about sleeping around?’
She blushed, hating how she’d have to dig herself out of this one.
‘You did—’
‘I said dating. Not the same thing. Do you sleep with all the guys you date?’
‘‘Course not!’
Besides, she’d have to date to have a chance at sleeping with them and she’d been so busy these past few years, proving herself, proving to Hector he hadn’t made a mistake taking in a scruff like her, she’d had limited down time. When she had dated she’d chosen guys so removed from her past that once they got beyond the first few dates she found they had nothing in common.
Ironic, the cool musos who once held so much appeal left her dead now. She’d seen what that world could do, the havoc it wrought if you got caught up in the glamour and the rush, and thankfully she’d never been inclined to date Landry’s clientele.
‘You seeing anyone?’
‘Like that’d stop you,’ she muttered, shooting him a withering glance as he held up his hands in surrender.
‘Hey, I like a challenge but I don’t poach.’
‘What’s it to you anyway?’
Her heart stuttered when he leaned across, their shoulders brushing, and it took all her concentration to focus on the freeway and not land them in a ditch.
‘We’re both single. We’re stuck together for this tour. We’re attracted to each other. You do the math.’
‘One plus one equals a bit fat zero?’
Disappointingly he didn’t retaliate, the loaded silence only serving to notch up the intimacy, and she silently swore. This car was her pride and joy, a symbol of how hard she’d worked, how far she’d come but right now the interior she usually found comfortingly cosy seemed stifling.
It was him, of course, with his big chest and big shoulders and big head.
‘Care to lay a wager on that?’
She bit back her first response of where he could stick his wager.
‘Because from where I’m sitting, the two of us getting together by the end of this tour is inevitable.’
This time, her cursing wasn’t so silent and she clenched the steering wheel, not risking a glance in his direction and catching the smug grin that had to be plastered across his too-handsome face.
The guy was infuriating.
The guy was annoying.
The guy was only verbalising what she’d already envisaged in her mixed-up head, making her mad as hell.
She cranked up the music and he wisely shut up. If only he’d stay mute for the rest of the tour.
The road trip from hell got worse the moment Charli approached the front desk of the apartments where they were staying.
‘Welcome to Ballarat, Miss Chambers.’
‘Thanks. Do you have our room keys?’
The receptionist’s smile faded. ‘We do but there’s been a problem.’
Charli didn’t need any more problems. Bad enough she had one big problem tagging along for the tour.
‘What’s up?’
The receptionist’s eyes widened and her jaw sagged as Luca strode into the small reception area.
The woman had to be fiftysomething but she had a pulse and any woman would’ve drooled over Luca—including her, sadly, considering she couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss the entire drive.
‘I thought I told you to wait in the car,’ she muttered, shooting him a frown that only served to widen his permanent grin.
Leaning down, he murmured in her ear, ‘Heads-up. I’m a big boy now. I don’t always do as I’m told.’
She gulped at the hint of danger tinged with promise in his smoother-than-honey tone, grateful when the receptionist held out a pair of key cards.
‘Management’s apologies, but due to the construction work next door and burst water mains we’ve had to put you both in the same apartment. It’s a two-bedroom, far end of the corridor. If you need anything—’
‘But I made this booking a month ago. You must have another apartment.’
Her voice had risen to an embarrassing squeak and she clamped her lips shut as the receptionist shook her head.
‘I’m sorry, Miss Chambers, this is all we’ve got.’
Her brusque tone held a distinct undercurrent of ‘take it or leave it’ and, considering this had been her last resort due to some folk festival coinciding with Storm’s first gig in town booking up every last room, she had no choice.
‘We’ll take it,’ Luca said, swiping the key cards from the receptionist with a dazzling smile that had the older woman practically purring. ‘Thanks.’