All Fired Up. Madelynne Ellis
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She’s been praying I’d find myself a nice girl to settle down with since I was old enough to date. She wants you to come for Christmas. I said yes, as long as she swore not to mention babies.’
‘Christmas is six … seven months away.’
He bit his lip. ‘I know. It’s going to be majorly awkward if things happen that mean we can’t make it.’
‘Babies?’
He grimaced.
Ginny steepled her fingers and then covered her face. ‘Could you please start making sense? How can you agree to us attending the family Christmas and have a discussion about babies, yet get weird about me coming on tour with you and the band? You do realise that people normally do things the other way round? Friends first, then the family?’
Ash scratched his chin. ‘My family aren’t going to sell us out. And I didn’t say you couldn’t come on the tour, or that we couldn’t see one another. I just said you couldn’t ride on the bus.’
‘What?’
‘Honestly, woman, how long do you think I’m going to last without seeing you, considering what you reduce me to?’ He claimed her hand and tugged her into his embrace. ‘You make me demented.’ He brushed a stray wisp of hair from her face, then kissed her brow and her lips. ‘Ginny, I’ll be lucky if I last more than a few hours without you before I’m ready to crawl up the walls. I have to share a bunk room with Xane and Dani, you know, and you can be damn sure he won’t be keeping his hands off her, or even attempting to be circumspect about it. He’s a complete shag monster. My antics are nothing next to his.’ He leaned close so that his warm breath tickled the shell of her ear. ‘I’m going to be horny as hell, and desperate for you.’
‘And where do you envisage me being?’ She was lost. Really astonishingly lost.
‘Somewhere reasonably close by. I took the liberty of making a few arrangements. We can’t be together all the time, but that doesn’t mean we have to be apart all the time either. And we’ll talk.’ He dug in his pocket and proudly showed her his new phone, with her number already set to speed dial.
‘And rendezvous.’
‘Why, when you say that, do I imagine disguises, and white carnations?’
‘Because it’ll be fun. We’ll dress up. I’ll wear glasses and a trilby, and we can leave each other coded messages. Doesn’t that sound more romantic than being holed up on a tour bus with a dozen sweaty men?’
Maybe it did. She liked the idea of him in a trilby, and maybe a pinstriped suit. Then again, she wasn’t averse to the notion of being confined with several heavy rock stars, except maybe it was possible to overdose on man candy, and she had to remember she wasn’t a free agent any more.
‘OK, maybe it’s starting to sound interesting. So, where does our first tryst take place?’
‘On the Chunnel. I’m sure we can find a quiet spot. Then in Paris, after that. I’ll send you all the details.’
Ginny nodded. She still couldn’t quite squash the disappointment over not going with him tonight, but at least she had something to look forward to. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something, and that something was better than the possibility of them not being together at all.
She entwined her arms around his middle and breathed in deeply the smell of his skin. ‘You know, if we’re going to be apart for that long, I think I need to say goodbye to you some more before you go.’
‘I’m totally with you on that.’ He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. ‘Phone me every night, even if we’ve already spoken a million times that day. I want your voice to be the last thing I hear before I sleep.’
She nipped at the faint trace of stubble lining his jaw. ‘What makes you think I’m going to let you sleep? If I’m calling you last thing at night it won’t be to sing you a lullaby.’
‘No?’ He wrinkled his brows as if in disappointment. ‘What will it be for?’
‘To torture the fuck out of you with my dirty thoughts, of course.’
‘You’re going to talk dirty to me?’ She heard the catch of excitement in this throat. ‘Babe,’ he purred, ‘you’re way too good to me.’
Paris, France.
Dinner had seemed like such a good idea when Spook had suggested it. Seriously, what wasn’t to like about the idea of decent food, in a nice restaurant, and someone else footing the bill? However, that had been before the adrenalin rush of the Paris gig had worn off, and he’d had to talk Iain down from the rafters. Ash didn’t recall Iain being quite so big a diva when they’d played together in the past. Apparently these days he didn’t take criticism at all well. He was rather peeved himself that Iain had screwed up ‘Fatal Error’, since it was normally a major crowd-pleaser, but he’d had to bite his tongue, given that the rest of the band were already seething and they couldn’t actually afford to give him the boot, or see him walk. Without a drummer, the whole tour would collapse, and none of them could afford for that to happen. This perhaps explained why they were all tolerating his motor-mouthed yapping too. Iain had hardly paused for breath in the last forty minutes and Ash was beginning to suspect he’d taken something, but he sure as hell didn’t want to suggest that at the dinner table, because it’d be an instant tour-killer.
And, if he was being honest, he needed this tour. Touring was easy, it made life ridiculously simple: they drove about, they played gigs, he ate, slept and fucked. It wasn’t real, and it wasn’t complicated. He didn’t want to deal with real life right now. Reality was a total screw-up.
Xane leaned towards him, his long black hair falling forward to shroud his angular face. ‘If he doesn’t shut his trap soon, I swear I’m going to throw something at him.’
Ash caught Xane’s wrist as he reached for a bread roll. Although he was relieved it was only food missiles Xane was considering – there were steak knives on the table.
‘He’s nervous, is all. Iain always talks when he’s nervous.’ Not entirely true, but he needed to find some explanation for Iain’s behaviour. ‘Give him a chance to settle in. It’s only been a few days, and you did all lay into him when we came off stage tonight.’
Actually, they’d all given him hell every night since the tour began, nearly a week ago.
Xane withdrew his hand, but rolled his eyes at the notion that they’d given Iain a hard time. ‘What the fuck were you thinking, Ash? He’s so wrong for us, it’s depressing.’
‘He’s a drummer. That makes him perfect for us.’
Xane gave him the sort of look that would have made anyone else wither. Ash refused to shrivel.
‘He pisses me off – deliberately.’
‘That’s a bit of an overstatement. He messed up one song, Xane. And I hardly think he did it deliberately. Why would he? We’re his ticket into the big league.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe that’s my issue. I don’t like freeloaders hanging off my coat-tails.’
‘So work him harder.’
Xane smiled grimly. ‘Oh, I will. Don’t worry about that.’
‘Whose phone’s vibrating?’ Spook asked, his native Swedish lilt coming through, a sure indication that he was stressed. The rest of the conversation around the table had stopped.
‘Heck, mine.’ Ash fished the damn thing out of his pocket and swiped a finger across the dimmed screen to waken it. It was a little late in the evening for his mum to be calling; she’d be in bed with one of her beloved mystery novels by now. There were only two other people with his number and one of them,