CHAPTER THREE

      ‘WE’RE ALL GOING BACK to the Pilgrim’s Inn for a few drinks—want to join us?’

      Mike Casey stood waiting as Caitlin shrugged into her raincoat. Everyone else was outside. Steve and Keith were loading the van with the equipment and Jake and Rick were deep in discussion. Rick had extended the same invitation to her earlier, and Caitlin had told him she’d think about it. But the very idea of going into that particular pub again, after what had happened between her and Sean on her last visit, made her feel faintly ill.

      Sean had been so bad that night—out of his head on a cocktail of drink and drugs—and she’d feared the worst. She had been right to. The cruel words and jibes that he’d taunted her with had just got worse and worse as the evening progressed. The sharpest knife couldn’t have cut her more deeply. Add to that the humiliation of his verbal attack being witnessed by a pub full of people before the landlord threw him out—well, it had been enough to make her want to give the place a wide berth for ever.

      Lifting her gaze to Mike’s, she said, ‘It’s kind of you to ask me, but I think I’ll have to say no. It’s already quite late.’

      Stealing a quick glance at her watch, she saw that it was ten-thirty-five, and they’d been rehearsing since three o’clock that afternoon. Her throat was parched and her body ached from the sheer effort that Jake had demanded. The man apparently had endless reserves of energy that made Caitlin feel as if she was the slowest runner on the track in comparison. No. She’d much prefer to go home, shower, get into her pyjamas and put her feet up with a glass of wine and a bowl of crisps at her elbow.

      ‘You call ten-thirty in the evening late? We’re talking Saturday night, here. Don’t tell me the whole village goes to bed early?’ Mike’s dark eyebrows flew up to the tips of his tousled fringe. ‘You must have led a sheltered life, if that’s normal for you.’

      At his disbelieving grin, Caitlin conceded a shy smile. ‘You must think I’m pretty boring, right? No way could I ever claim to be a typical rock chick, that’s for sure. But I realise my early nights will have to come to an end when the band goes on the road.’

      ‘You two ready?’ Rick appeared at the door, his hazel eyes appraising Caitlin and Mike with interest. ‘I have to lock up. Caitlin? Jake would like a word.’

      What now? Caitlin groaned inwardly at the prospect.

      Jake hadn’t lied when he’d said he would go easy with her on the first night but that after that she’d have to roll with punches like everyone else. He’d been harder on her than on any of the guys in the band. Maybe that was because they already knew what was required and she didn’t? But somehow Caitlin didn’t think that was the only reason Jake had been yelling at her all night.

      Maybe he didn’t like her. Maybe he was already regretting taking her on due to her lack of experience. She could speculate until night turned into day but she’d be none the wiser until they had a conversation.

      Wearing his familiar black leather jacket over a sweatshirt and jeans, Jake was leaning against his Jeep. He straightened as Caitlin walked towards him, and even at the distance that separated them she sensed an undeniable magnetic charge that put her on her guard. It had started to rain, and the sound of the other band members’ voices floated on the air as they huddled round the big white transit van they transported their equipment in.

      As Jake continued to hold her gaze Caitlin sensed something register low in her belly—a combination of fear, apprehension and irrefutable sexual attraction. She didn’t know whether to smile or run.

      A fierce gust of wind just then almost tore her open raincoat from her shoulders, revealing her curvaceous figure in perhaps more detail than she wanted him to see. She felt alternately hot and cold all over as her boots crunched across the gravel.

      ‘Rick said you wanted to speak to me?’ She was slightly breathless as she presented herself, her long black hair lashing across her face in the wind and rain.

      Straight away Jake noticed Caitlin shiver in her insubstantial raincoat. He knew a way to warm her up. Another place, another time, he might have given into such an urge. God knew Caitlin Ryan had been testing all his powers of self-control from the very first moment he’d set eyes on her.

      ‘So, are you going to join us for a drink or what?’ he asked tersely.

      ‘That’s what you wanted to talk to me about?’

      Catching the ends of her raincoat belt, she twisted it tightly round her waist. In vain she tried to shove her long hair out of her eyes and noticed her hands were trembling. What was it about this man that could unravel her so easily?

      ‘I already told Mike that I wasn’t coming. I’m going home to get an early night.’ she said. ‘Don’t worry I’ll make sure I’m here at three o’clock on the dot for rehearsals tomorrow.’

      ‘I want you to come for a drink.’

      The pupils of Jake’s eyes had turned unsettlingly dark…so dark that there was just the palest blue circle ringed round them.

      ‘It’s a good opportunity for us to get to know each other. Tomorrow’s Sunday. You can have a lie-in.’

      Caitlin could hardly argue with his reasoning, even if her heart was fluttering madly at the very idea of spending the rest of the evening in the company of the charismatic band manager. But there was also the not exactly small matter of her showing up at the Pilgrim’s Inn. There was always a small influx of visitors from outside the village, but generally customers were mostly a local crowd, and there were bound to be people there who remembered how Sean had humiliated her.

      ‘I—I’d rather not come, if you don’t mind.’

      ‘The invitation was an order, not a choice. You’re going to have to get used to late nights if you’re going to sing with this band. Get in the car. You can ride with me and Rick’

      So that was how Caitlin found herself squeezed into a worn red velvet corner seat in the pub, with Rick on one side and Jake on the other, as the band members stood round the cosy fire in the iron grate, hogging the heat and nursing their pints of beer.

      From the jukebox Sting’s voice boomed out: something about not standing so close… Caitlin could easily have echoed the sentiment. Rick had hung her raincoat over the back of a chair but she wasn’t bereft of warmth—not when Jake’s hard-muscled thigh was pressed against hers. A full-on radiator couldn’t have made her hotter. Every time he shifted even slightly the renewed contact made Caitlin’s heart miss a beat.

      ‘So