Rock Bottom. Cate Masters

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СКАЧАТЬ his crystal blue eyes felt like a laser piercing her own.

      To clear her head, she turned away. “It’s situated perfectly too. Right next to the house.” Could she possibly sound any more brainless?

      She sensed him directly behind her. His soft tone made her muscles go fluid. Her eyes drifted shut, imagining his famous voice singing to her alone.

      “If you look out your bedroom window, you can see into mine. Right over there.” His arm lifted beside her and pointed.

      His warmth penetrated her skin. He smelled like ocean and musk. An impulse struck her to guide his arm around her, fit herself against him. Fill her senses with him.

      Snapping to reality, she fumed at his flirting, but made her voice sweet as honey. “Oh, over there? I appreciate you telling me.” Smiling, she turned. “I’ll be sure to keep my curtains closed.”

      Tensing, he straightened, and his nostrils flared.

      Her muscles drew taut in response. You shouldn’t have made him mad–not the first day.

      But his eyes crinkled at the corners, and he cocked his jaw and nodded. “Billie Prescott.” He said her name with a kind of wonder.

      Not quite knowing what to make of it, she gave a giddy laugh. And wanted to die. “Jet Trently. We finally meet.” As though she’d been waiting. Or it had been prearranged. By whom? The universe?

      To recover her composure, she went to her bag and pulled out her laptop. “Any internet connection in here?”

      He flopped onto the sofa and extended his arms across the back. “Wireless, pretty much from everywhere.” With a kind of amused curiosity, he watched her. “We need to talk.”

      Her mind blanked. The way he spoke sounded so intimate, as if he wanted to discuss their relationship. His gaze seared into her, and she had trouble remembering they had no relationship. “About what?”

      His mouth curled into a smile. “The show. Don’t you want to interview me?”

      She felt her face flush. He played a cat and mouse game. And he’d trapped her already. “Yeah, absolutely. I need to review the materials to get some notes together first.” And her head. She couldn’t let him mess with her mind any further. She’d come to do a story. And she intended to make it great. Get it over with, so she could go home.

      He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I could give you the grand tour.”

      “Yes, great.” Damn, his intense focus wiped clean her slate of thought. She stepped away to retrieve some semblance of dignity. “But what about the cameras? I have to be invisible. I’m not part of any of this.”

      He rose slowly. “The show doesn’t start until tomorrow.”

      “Right.” She must be making one hell of an impression. Stu would regale Everett with her complete idiocy. Maybe the flight had dehydrated her. Or the time difference had thrown her off balance. “Could I see the kitchen first? I’m really thirsty. My day started at four thirty this morning Eastern.”

      “Sorry. Why didn’t you say something? Did you come straight from the airport?”

      “Yes, I didn’t think the driver would want to stop along the way, even if I offered to buy him a drink.” Ah. The return of the old Billie. The girl not impressed by rock stars. Not starstruck like some teenage fan.

      He went to open the door and inclined his head toward the outside. “Let’s go raid the fridge.”

      “Are you sure you have time?” What, like he needed to study a script? All he had to do tomorrow, it seemed, was roll out of bed on time.

      “Absolutely.”

      Egotistical, but also a gentleman. Interesting combo.

      Grabbing her messenger bag containing the essential digital camera and recorder, she followed him back the way she’d come. Much nicer walking beside Jet than following the Rock Bottom worker. Jet made eye contact when he spoke. Strolled along as if he enjoyed her company.

      He kept the conversation going. “So you’re from Philly?”

      A true marketing pro, pretending interest in her life.

      “Yes. Pennsylvania born and bred.” God, she made herself sound like a crop of corn. “Where are you from?”

      “Jersey, mostly. Though my dad lived in Philly, so we split our time with him.”

      “That must have been tough. Do you have brothers and sisters?” The instant she said it, regret snapped her attention to him.

      “A sister. My brother, Jeff, died a few years ago.” A catch in his voice, then he flashed a smile, though his pain still came through.

      “That’s right. I’m so sorry.” The news came to mind then: the death of Jet’s brother, the lead guitarist, had nearly destroyed the band, already almost lost in obscurity. Then Jet launched the group anew, though Chalmer Freeburn, Jeff’s replacement, caused immediate friction within the band. The media couldn’t get enough news about his wild partying. Onstage, Chalmer’s presence loomed as strong as Jet’s, and his searing guitar licks sometimes overshadowed Jet. With the public’s interest renewed, Jet’s musical career slid back on track. Or rather, back into the same tired old track. “That must have been terrible for you.”

      He paused at the door, his expression unreadable. Surprise? Wariness?

      Pushing open the door, he gestured. “To the right.”

      She knew when to drop a subject. Jet obviously drew the line at discussing his family. Surprising for someone who’d made every move of his personal life open for public discussion. Good for him. Some celebrities didn’t know when to keep the public out of their lives.

      On her earlier walk through, she hadn’t noticed the state-of-the-art kitchen. “Do you cook?” Or did anyone, she wondered. Such a waste of sleek, overpriced appliances–for show only. Like everything in the place. Especially the people.

      He shrugged. “I’ve been known to scramble a mean egg. Not much beyond that.” Opening the refrigerator, he bent to look inside and named the contents. “Or I have these mini bottles of wine–a nice Riesling. Want to try one?”

      “That sounds nice. To take the edge off my frazzled nerves.”

      He popped open two and clinked his bottle against hers. “Cheers.” He leaned an elbow against the counter.

      She didn’t mind the unhurried nature of the tour. A nice contrast to her nonstop rush of a day.

      When her phone buzzed, she slid it from her pocket. Everett texted: Glad you arrived safe and sound. Looking forward to news from the West Coast.

      Erasing it, she could almost taste her bitterness. Right. I miss you too.

      “Boyfriend?” Jet renewed his intense focus.

      She dropped the phone in her bag where she’d be less likely to hear it. “No. My editor checking in. Sometimes I loathe the person who invented СКАЧАТЬ