Sweet Temptation: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 3) Read online

  “I hear you,” Elle said. “And you’re almost there. You’ve got Brody and the Players now. One bad day won’t ruin you.”

  “I’m not done yet.”

  Elle’s slender eyebrow raised. “There’s more to this day from hell?”

  “Oh, there’s more. When I called Brody to tell him about the cancelled shows, he started going over my schedule with me, for the umpteenth time. The man is obsessive about syncing our calendars and color coding shit. He starts asking me about the wardrobe fitting I have booked this week, because apparently he wants to get all up in my budget, which I did not know was a thing, by the way… and when I mention that some of my wardrobe got stolen last night, he flips out because I didn’t call him the moment it happened. It was like two a.m.. He has a baby. I didn’t know he’d want that call in the middle of the night.”

  Elle gave me a cringey look.

  “Come on,” I said. “It’s not like he could’ve done anything about it. I called the police and the insurance company. I’m not helpless.”

  “I know. But babe, you should’ve called him.”

  “Apparently. Then he gets all worked up about it and my general ‘lack of security’ and decides to inform me that I’ll be ‘requiring’ a bodyguard at some point, sooner than later. Which is going to cost me and my so-called ‘budget’ all kinds of dollars.”

  “Sweetie,” Elle said gently. “If Brody thinks it’s time for you to have personal security, it’ll be worth every penny it costs you. Believe me.”

  “Right,” I said, doubtful. “Then I kinda got mad at him, and we kinda had our first official manager/musician argument.”

  Elle waved that off. “I have arguments with Brody all the time.”

  “Have you ever called him a bossy-boss grump-tyrant?”

  She snort-laughed. “Probably.”

  A couple of women walked into the room, sweeping past us and into the toilet area.

  “I couldn’t help it,” I went on, lowering my voice. There was music playing in the washroom, so they probably couldn’t hear us, and clearly they hadn’t noticed the celebrity sitting on the chair in front of me. “I cracked. He said he was gonna go over every line of my budget with my accountant, at which point I had to break it to him that I have neither a budget nor an accountant, and he got all surly on my ass.”

  “Wait. You don’t have an accountant?”

  “Well, my dad does my taxes. What more do I need?”

  Elle just stared at me. I did not like that look.

  “Anyway… The whole thing had me on the phone for way too long with Brody, then the insurance company called with questions. Then I had to call my dad to get him to send me a bunch of paperwork, and the next thing you know it’s ten o’clock and I’m supposed to be here, but I’m in my bra and panties in my basement, digging through file boxes full of receipts, and the whole thing has me late for your event.”

  “Aw, babe. It’s not my event,” Elle insisted. “I’m leaving soon myself. Just relax and have a drink or two. You’ll feel better.”

  “Just the one,” I said, taking another sip. “I’m driving.”

  “Why didn’t you just leave your car at home?”

  “Because I’m not staying long. Did you not hear that whole story? This whole day is a dumpster fire.”

  “It is not a dumpster fire,” she said firmly.

  “Elle, my hair literally caught on fire.” I pawed at the back of it again. “I’m making an appearance, and then I’m disappearing.”

  “Well… you definitely made an appearance.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You just couldn’t hold that one in, huh?”

  “You know I couldn’t.” She got to her feet. “Come on. We’ll get you some of those crab cakes. I have to pee, though. I’ll meet you back out there?”

  “You eat crab cakes. I’ll just concentrate on not catching on fire.”

  She gave me a supportive smile. “That’s the spirit.”

  I glanced at the girls in the washroom, who were now at the sinks, chatting. “I’ll send Flynn in here guns a-blazing if you’re not out in five minutes,” I muttered.

  “Thanks.”

  I headed out of the ladies’ room, shaking out my hair—and hoping Elle hadn’t totally underplayed it because there was a gross burnt hole in the back, and she didn’t want to have to break it to me. I strode back up the hall toward the lounge, mustering some DJ Summer-style sass for the next person I ran into—and ran into Flynn.

  Like, right into Flynn.

  I smashed into his hard body as he came around the corner… and cold liquid splooshed down my side.

  “Is that a martini,” I muttered, “or are you just happy to see me?”

  He cringed, his sharp features etched with discomfort as I took a step back.

  The last time I was this close to Elle’s bodyguard—at one of my shows, two weeks ago—he’d poured a martini right down my side. That time, it was kinda funny. And flattering. I’d assumed he was so distracted by my overwhelming sexiness that he’d spilled the drink in a delicious metaphor for something else he wanted to spill on me.

  I was wrong.

  “It’s, uh… two martinis,” he said. “For you and Elle.”

  Well, that was thoughtful. I looked down at my wet dress and the now-empty cocktail glasses in his hands.

  “Shit, Summer. I’m sorry.”

  “It was my fault. And thank you for the drink, but I’m driving.”

  “Sure. Can I get you anything else?” He met my eyes—guiltily—and I bit back the urge to roll my eyes.

  Really. Did he have to make it so damn awkward?

  So I tried to kiss him, and he wasn’t having it.

  So what?

  The night of that show where he dumped a martini on me, I’d seriously thought I was (finally) ending the night with his boots under my bed.

  Not so much.

  Instead, he’d accompanied Elle to the afterparty at my place—and then, as usual, refused to partake of the party. It wasn’t like he was forbidden from doing so; I’d run this by Elle, and she had assured me that if I wanted to bang him, even while on duty, he was all mine.

  Later that night, when I walked them out to my driveway to say good night, I may have leaned in to kiss him good night. I also may have been a little drunk. And overly optimistic, as it turned out.

  And he may have ducked and dodged.

  Yup. It was pretty bad. Not as bad as this day was going, but it definitely wasn’t a highlight of my year.

  We were both grownups here, though. You didn’t see me skulking around in the shadows looking embarrassed. My hair just caught on fire in a room full of VIPs, for fuck’s sake, and I was still rolling on.

  Besides, that was two weeks ago. Ancient history.

  Sure, Flynn was fit and handsome, in a sharp, kinda frigid way… with dark, exuberantly-buzzed hair and blue-gray eyes. And while he had this rigid, overly serious thing going on, he’d been known to turn a few female heads. Mine included.

  But there were many other men in the hot-guy sea.

  “Thanks, but I’m fine,” I told him. I mustered what I hoped was a convincing smile.

  Really wasn’t his fault I was having a bad day.

  Then Elle caught up to us, and Flynn shifted back into stiff-security-guy mode—not that he’d ever really shifted out of it.

  “What happened now?” Elle said, eying my wet dress.

  “Flynn happened.”

  “What?” She glanced at him; he stood two feet away like a statue, pretending not to listen.

  “He dumped a couple of drinks on me.” I hooked my arm through hers and we made our way back out into the crowded restaurant. “It’s par for the course. Did I mention the non-fabulous day I’m having?”

  “I’m sure he feels terrible about it,” she offered, as Flynn escorted us back to our table. He kept the crowd at bay with his broad shoulders and this masterful side-eye thing he did, and when we got there, he hovered conspicuously. I was p
retty sure he was waiting for my hair to catch on fire again, so he could tackle me in a heroic but guilt-induced stop-drop-and-roll.

  There were crab cakes on our table. Lots of crab cakes. And a round of fresh drinks.

  I didn’t partake.

  While Elle chatted with a few people, I put in some small talk with Brody and Jessa. And I let my manager introduce me around to some VIPs I hadn’t yet met, most of whom had probably witnessed the hair-on-fire incident and politely pretended not to notice my wet dress.

  Then I circled back to Elle and glued myself to her side.

  “So… how long are we pretending to have fun here before we bail?” I asked her. “Flynn is gonna have a hard time holding the crowd back all night. You know everyone wants to talk to you.”

  “Now I’m getting seriously worried, because that is so not a question you normally ask. Usually I’m the one looking for the exit before midnight.”

  “Yeah, but my dress is soaked in Tanqueray, and like I said, I’m having a party tonight.”

  “Are you? I thought you might be joking.”

  “Oh, sweetie. I never joke about parties.” I dug into my purse for my phone, planning to check messages; see who was heading over to my house and when. But the phone vibrated in my hand with an incoming call.

  The display said: Blair.

  “Fuck off,” I muttered, rejecting the call.

  “What?” Elle leaned in.

  “Just this guy, calling me.”

  “So? Block his number.”

  I probably should’ve.

  Though if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to see when his calls stopped. And I was definitely waiting for that to happen.

  I looked through the notifications on my phone. I had a bunch of texts from friends… and three missed calls. All from Blair.

  What the fuck.

  Did he not get the message by now? The one that I was not, in any way, interested?

  Nope. Apparently not.

  I swiped away the notification of his missed calls.

  I had a text from Ashley—my dear friend/lead singer/ex-boyfriend—and opened it.

  Ash: Heading to your place

  The text had come in about twenty minutes ago. I also had a few texts from his girlfriend.

  Danica: At your house now.

  Danica: We used the key from the coffee can outside. Are we allowed to do that?

  Danica: Ash said it was ok.

  I smirked, texting her back.

  Me: Totally ok. Be there soon.

  And finally, my day was looking up. This house party would lift my spirits, if anything could.

  Friends. Drinks. Music.

  My music. On my turf.

  I was totally blowing this album release party off. I’d made an appearance. That was all that was required of me here.

  “So,” I prodded Elle. “Are you coming?” I gave her my most hopeful, expectant, I love you eyes, but I already knew the answer. If she was coming, she would’ve said so. She hardly needed a formal invitation.

  “You know I would,” she said. “But Emma needs me. I’ve got her midnight milk supply, and I hate pumping.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “I miss the days when you’d stay over and we’d brunch it up together in the lazy late-morning. What if I catch on fire while I’m home alone? Who’ll beat the flames out of my hair?”

  “Good point. But maybe someone else will stay over?” She cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I know if I don’t come, that means Flynn won’t either.”

  “Oh, I’ve given up on that.”

  “Have you?”

  “Definitely. I thought we were flirting. We weren’t. The man would probably throw himself in front of a speeding car for me, but he won’t put out. I really have no use for a man like that in my life.”

  Elle smirked. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Oh, I do. Honestly, if I’m gonna die, let me get laid first.”

  She laughed. I always made Elle laugh.

  Maybe she just didn’t realize how serious I was when I said these things.

  “Okay… I’m gonna say my goodbyes and tunnel out of here,” she said. “You?”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  We said our goodbyes, which took way too long. I was a popular woman.

  Elle was even more popular.

  Then I walked out with her and Flynn; he’d had Brody’s driver bring Elle’s car around to the back exit for them. And as Flynn escorted us through the crowd, I took a good, long look at him. And I wondered… Why?

  Why was I so drawn to him in the first place?

  Flynn was straight-laced and stiff. Strong and protective, too, and sure, that was hot.

  But he wasn’t really… my type.

  I appreciated that he always seemed to be looking out for me, out of courtesy to Elle, to Brody. I really did.

  Even though it was unnecessary.

  But why couldn’t I read the signs that he was never into me?

  Outside the restaurant, he turned to me and said, “I can get someone to walk you to your car—”

  “No need.” I waved that off. “Just take care of the superstar.” I gave Elle a final hug, then headed off.

  “Drive safe!” Elle called after me. “And enjoy your party!”

  “Always do!” I called back.

  As I headed through the parking lot to my car, I glanced into the shadows. It was early October, and it was a dark, cloudy night. There were people not far away, on the sidewalk, going in and out of the restaurant.

  Elle’s car drove past as I was getting into mine, and Flynn tooted the horn. I waved good night.

  And it occurred to me…

  Maybe it was the instinct to want to be close to the safety Flynn provided and not him that I wanted. Maybe I liked that he was looking out for me, way more than I’d realized?

  Again… Why?

  It was a weird, nagging feeling, and it made no sense.

  What was Flynn gonna do, protect me from having a bad day?

  Chapter Two

  Summer

  I woke up in the dead of night.

  It was an ugly wakeup, disturbing. The kind that tears you out of a deep dream. I was disoriented but wide awake, and I didn’t know why.

  I just knew that something had woken me up.

  My heartbeat slammed in my chest. I was alone in bed, in my bedroom, and it was dead silent. I realized I was holding my breath and exhaled, hard.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, rubbing my face.

  What the hell.

  Maybe I was having a bad dream? But I couldn’t remember it.

  All I could remember was… I was having a bad day.

  And maybe it wasn’t quite done with me yet.

  I threw back the covers and sat up. Everything felt creepy and wrong, like the lingering effects of a nightmare.

  I never had nightmares.

  I reached for my robe, on the chair by my bed, and slipped it on. I had a little nightie on, but I had a feeling I wasn’t alone. Probably Ashley had crashed on my couch downstairs and was staggering around drunk, trying to find himself another beer.

  I dragged myself into the bathroom, gradually waking up as I went to pee. I hadn’t even turned on a light, but I didn’t need to. The moon was full and crazy bright; the clouds had cleared, and it was shining through the windows like a lighthouse beacon.

  When I was finished in the bathroom, I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. It was two-forty-six a.m.. I hadn’t been asleep all that long.

  I headed downstairs, and that was when I remembered: Ash would be with Danica. He hadn’t crashed here since they’d hooked up. I wondered if they’d both stayed over.

  Obviously, someone had.

  I walked into my living room, expecting to find someone sprawled on the couch. I stopped in the middle of the room.

  It wasn’t as bright down here, but I didn’t need to turn on any lights. The trees surrounding the house blocked some of that intense moonlight, but I coul
d see that there was no one in the room.

  “Ashley?” I said. I was so fucking sure someone was here. “Danica?” I called out, as I headed down the hall beyond the living room, where the guest bedrooms were. I peeked into each room. The doors were open and no one was there. I checked the guest bathroom.

  Then I went back up the other hall toward my bedroom, where the music room was, and peeked in there, too.

  No one.

  As I walked slowly back into the living room, where the evidence of tonight’s party was strewn about, a shiver went up my back. And I remembered what I’d said to Elle.

  I swear, someone is sticking pins in a tiny little Summer doll today.

  It had been a small, chill party, and no one had stayed very long. I’d walked Xander and Courteney out myself, before I went up to bed, around two o’clock. Or maybe it was one-thirty. I hadn’t really paid attention. There were only a few people left, including Ash and Danica.

  Now, there was obviously no one in the house but me. Yet I couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that I wasn’t alone.

  I went into the adjoining kitchen, looking around, for what, I had no idea. I kept telling myself I was just freaked out because of my stuff getting stolen after last night’s show, and then getting woken up by my neighbor’s alarm last night…

  No one was here. And nothing was out of place.

  There were some bottles and glasses still sitting on the tables in the living room and on the bar. Someone had cleaned up a bit, organizing empties into boxes by the fridge. Danica, probably.

  I got a glass out of the cupboard and poured myself a water. I took a sip, just trying to breathe and shake off the creeped-out feeling.

  Since when did I get creeped out in my own house?

  It was a bad dream or something. I didn’t normally have those, but maybe those three green apple martinis I’d drank with the girls weren’t sitting so well. I took another sip of water, turning to go back to bed.

  And I heard a noise.

  I stopped.

  I definitely did not imagine that. It was coming from the sunroom at the back of the living room.