Sweet Temptation: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 3) Page 6

  No. Fucking. Thanks.

  DJ Summer parties were all about freedom. Dancing, drinking, drugging—if you were into that—and of course, getting laid. Making connections. Celebrating life, for fuck’s sake.

  And feeling good about all of the above.

  Without judgment.

  Nothing would kill the mood at my parties like a bodyguard with a stick up his ass—standing guard over me, staring down my friends with his sour-assed Judgey Judgerson face and refusing to join in the fun.

  Granted, it wasn’t Ronan’s fault I didn’t want him here.

  He seemed extremely professional, and I knew Brody would never have left him here overnight if he wasn’t totally qualified. And to be honest, he wasn’t all that sour faced, just kind of… stony faced. The man had the look of a Secret Service agent or something. With forearm tattoos. Tough as hell, and definitely alpha. He’d brought this certain energy into the room that just told you he wasn’t to be fucked with.

  That was energy I needed last night.

  And obviously, I’d noticed how handsome he was. The man was eye candy extraordinaire.

  But I was in shock, probably.

  In a way, I’d barely seen him.

  I was only vaguely aware of the light-brown eyes, the lush mouth and broad shoulders, the stoic features etched with concern. His dominating presence, which I might’ve normally found distracting—alluring—was stabilizing. I felt secure in it, despite the fact that he was a stranger, despite the fact that barely half an hour before he’d arrived I’d been terrified to be here, in my own home.

  We were alone, me and this security professional… a stranger whose name I couldn’t even remember, the house around us starkly silent when what felt like only moments before it had been swarming with cops. And not long before that, a man had climbed the wall of my house to get to the balcony off my bedroom.

  Why?

  I felt the chill up my spine despite the heat of the shower washing over me, and I shivered.

  I closed my eyes and tried to picture him.

  Ronan.

  He’d laid a relaxed hand on the bar while we spoke, the cuff of his black button-up shirt rolled and pushed up halfway to his elbow. I’d found myself staring at his fingers. At the wide, smooth nails, neatly trimmed. At the cords of muscle that ran up his forearm beneath the slightly tanned skin, and the hint of a tattoo that disappeared beneath his sleeve. He wore a nice watch and a single ring, but no wedding ring.

  There was something incredibly grounding, comforting about the strength in that hand, and his naked, clean skin.

  Every time I’d looked up, his eyes were still locked on mine with the same assessing look.

  I didn’t know what to do. I’d offered him food, yet I couldn’t even fathom eating.

  A man had tried to break into my house.

  Possibly worse, it was a man I knew. Sort of.

  I took a deep, deep breath and blew it out.

  It wasn’t a random break-in, no matter what Ronan had said to try to make me feel better about it. I knew that. Maybe I was kind of in shock about the whole thing, but by the time Brody arrived and started calling it a random break-in, I knew.

  It wasn’t random. It was targeted.

  And I was the target.

  Or… maybe something that Blair knew I owned was the target? Something of value?

  Something in the music room or the studio, or my car?

  But if that was the case… why try to come in through my bedroom window in the middle of the night?

  I shuddered with discomfort and had to shut down that line of thought before I could take it any further.

  Yet I kept replaying the events of last night, over and over, in my head…

  I kept seeing Blair out my sunroom windows. How he’d stumbled, twisting away from the police dog as it lunged, tackling him right up against the wall.

  He’s lucky the dog caught his leather jacket. When they grab on, they don’t let go.

  That’s what the police officer standing next to me said.

  Then, when I sobbed into my hands, she told me, It’s okay. It’s over now.

  But it wasn’t exactly over.

  When the police asked me if I had anyone I could call to come over and be with me, I’d calmed down enough to call Ash, but he didn’t answer. It was the middle of the night, so he was probably dead asleep in bed with his girlfriend or ignoring his phone.

  So I called my manager.

  When Brody answered, I was so relieved. He was so calm and so quick to react, to help me without question. He told me he’d send one of his security guys over, and a short while later, just as the police were leaving, Maddox had rolled in. I told the police he was my friend, and the female officer gave me a card with her number on it. Obviously, she noticed the Kings stuff all over him.

  It was all kind of a blur. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, and yet so damn fast.

  One minute I was waking up in the middle of the night, and the next, the police were leaving my house and a biker was in my living room.

  And then, Ronan.

  He’d walked into my house and the mood had completely changed. He looked in my eyes and shook my hand.

  It was the first time I felt truly safe since I’d dialed 911.

  After my shower, I got dressed for the “important meeting” at Brody’s house. I chose a power outfit, obviously—tight black moto leggings with a high waist and a cropped purple sweater, fabulous earrings, and black leather boots with high heels. I wore my hair loosely curled, diva-worthy, and put on full war makeup.

  No way was I walking into this meeting looking anything less than totally put together.

  As much as I’d joked—flirted?—about it with Ronan last night in the stress of the moment, I was no damsel in distress.

  Who wouldn’t be terrified to wake up in the middle of the night to some man trying to break into her house in the dark? Especially after the day I’d had… it was terrifying.

  But I was no longer terrified. Yesterday was done. Today was a new and much better day.

  Blair Sanchuk had been arrested and hauled away to jail, and I was totally fucking fine.

  Once I was all done up and feeling more like my kick-ass self, I considered calling Ash back.

  But then I reconsidered.

  I’d called Elle last night after calling Brody, and she’d kept me on the line until Ronan showed up and I finally managed to convince her I was safe. I’d called her so I didn’t have to be “alone” while waiting for Maddox to arrive—and because I knew she’d want to know what happened.

  But she only gave me shit for not calling her sooner.

  When I reminded her she didn’t exactly own a gun and a police dog, so she wasn’t my first call—she reminded me that I was her best friend (though this wasn’t something she’d ever actually called me before), and sounded on the verge of tears.

  I got it. I would’ve freaked out too if our roles were reversed.

  So I assured her I was completely safe and sound.

  She didn’t seem to want to believe me.

  Finally, once I’d listed off the number of police officers (including the dog) and various large men who’d swarmed my property, coming to my rescue, she calmed down.

  But the more I thought about it now… the more I realized Ash might freak out as badly as Elle did. Worse, maybe, since it was now mid-morning and I still hadn’t filled him in.

  When I checked my phone again, the messages were definitely rolling in.

  Including a voicemail from Ash.

  I didn’t listen to it. After the way Elle had (over)reacted, I decided to evade. For now.

  So I sent him a quick text.

  Me: I’m good. I’ll call you later.

  Then I basically cut and pasted that message and fired it off to a handful of other friends.

  I headed downstairs to find Ronan standing by the front door, which was the last place I’d seen him last night.

  “Good morning,
” I said as I came to a stop, looking him over.

  He was… bigger… than I remembered him being. Maybe because most of the time I’d been talking to him last night, he’d been seated at the bar.

  Now that we were alone and it was daytime, and maybe I could actually see what was in front of me… he took up a lot of space. Broad and built… Kinda thick all over, in the best way. He towered over me by over half a foot; he had to be six-two or so. I was five-eight… in three-inch heels.

  And yes, he was handsome.

  I tried not to stare too much.

  “Morning.” His gaze flickered over me, head-to-toe, the same way it had several times last night. The man seemed to be assessing everything, at all times. I could practically see the gears turning behind those penetrating, light-brown eyes.

  “You know, you’re welcome to sit down,” I informed him.

  “I was just stepping outside to make some calls.”

  I watched as he slipped on his plain black leather jacket. His brown hair was shaved short on the sides, longer on top but smoothed into place. He looked incredibly polished for someone who’d slept in those clothes last night.

  He also smelled decidedly fresh. In fact, I caught the faint scent of the bodywash I left in the guest shower.

  So, he’d found himself the comforts of home after all.

  Also… did I smell eggs?

  “What is that?” I looked over at the takeout bags on my bar.

  “Breakfast sandwiches,” he said. “Had them delivered a little while ago. They’re still warm, if you want one.”

  Well. Wasn’t that just… thoughtful.

  I walked over and took a look in one of the bags as he opened the front door.

  “Do you want a coffee?” I called over. “I’m making some before we go.”

  “That would be nice. Thank you.”

  “Extra sugar?” I said, not meeting his eyes. I dug one of the wrapped sandwiches out of the bag.

  “Sure,” he said, and headed outside. The door closed softly behind him, and I looked over. I saw his dark form heading away from the house through the frosted window.

  I took a look at the sandwich. Egg and back bacon. Yum.

  Points for Ronan.

  I put on coffee and enjoyed my sandwich, in the sliver of peace and quiet that I got the distinct feeling might be the only one I’d get today.

  When I was done, I headed out to the driveway with two travel mugs filled with coffee for us. I found Ronan standing next to his car, talking on his phone.

  As I approached, I checked out his ride. It was a late-model black Camaro, very nice. Powerful. Sexy…

  Suited him.

  I had a thing for hot cars. When they were driven by hot men, all the better.

  I held out his coffee to him. “Thanks, brother,” he said, to whoever he was talking to, then hung up. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said to me, eying the travel mug I’d handed him. It was pink and said Queen Bitch on it. I’d kept the plain black one for myself.

  He didn’t even crack a hint of a smile. What was it with security guys and the ultra serious thing?

  I turned and headed for the garage, opening the door with my remote. “I drive fast,” I told him. “Try to keep up.”

  “I can drive you,” he said, from somewhere behind me.

  “I’m sure you can.” I tossed him a half-smile. He was still standing by his car, watching me. “You have Brody’s address?”

  “I do.”

  “Great.” I got in my car, started it up and cranked some cruising tunes. Missy Elliot would do.

  By the time I pulled out of the garage, Ronan had already backed out of the driveway so I could get out, and waited on the street. I took off down the street and he followed me in his car.

  Closely.

  A few times, as I headed down through Kitsilano to the Burrard Bridge, I increased the pressure on the accelerator, testing. He accelerated right along with me.

  Every time.

  I changed lanes. He changed lanes.

  Already, he was cramping my style. As my car vibrated with bass at a red light, I wondered if he even had music on in his car.

  Probably not. Way too serious for that.

  On the way through downtown, I turned the music down and called Elle again.

  “I don’t know how you can stand having a bodyguard watching your every move,” I complained. “They’re all over my ass with this thing.”

  “This thing? Are you kidding me?” Her voice filled the car through the speakers. “Summer, some creep tried to break into your bedroom last night. I’d feel better if you had a whole army of bodyguards on your ass right now.”

  “The police arrested him, Elle. They took care of it.”

  “I know, babe,” she said, and I could hear her frustration with me. “Where’s your security right now? You sound like you’re in the car.”

  “I am in the car. I’m on my way to Brody’s for some Super Important Meeting. And trust me, I’m not alone. Brody put this Ronan guy on me, and he’s in his car right behind me.”

  “Good. Flynn tells me he’s one of the best guys in town, if not the best.”

  “Uh… you talked to Flynn about this? About Ronan?”

  “Of course. Everyone’s talking about it.”

  “Fucking great.”

  “I meant, everyone’s concerned about your safety right now.”

  “I’m safe. There’s no need for concern. And how does Flynn know Ronan?”

  “They worked together. Flynn said he worked for Ronan’s company years ago, before Jude and Brody hired him onto our crew full-time.”

  I considered that. “Ronan was Flynn’s boss?”

  “Yes.”

  Well, that was interesting. Not that I wanted gossip or dirt or anything on my temporary bodyguard, but… I totally did. “What did Flynn have to say about him?”

  “He said you’re in good hands. He seemed relieved to hear that Ronan was with you. He’s been on the phone with Brody a bit this morning. I made him call and get me an update.”

  I groaned.

  “I know this whole thing sucks,” Elle said, gentling her tone. “I know you don’t like being… managed… this way—”

  “You mean bossed around?”

  “And I know you had an epically bad day yesterday, but…” She faded off.

  “Uh, hello? Are you there…?”

  “Summer. Shit. Do you think your break-in has anything to do with the break-in at your neighbor’s place the other night? And your stuff getting stolen after your show…?”

  “She didn’t have a break-in…” I said slowly. “Something just set off her alarm.”

  We both went silent a moment as I thought about it, though.

  Were any of these events related?

  “Look,” Elle said softly. “Just… let the guys do their thing, okay?” I could hear the concern in her voice. “It will be better if you just let them do their thing. For me,” she added.

  “Fine. For you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Am I really your best friend?” I probed.

  “Of course you’re my best friend.”

  “Do I get to be your maid of honor?”

  She snickered. “I have zero plans for a wedding, and Seth hasn’t proposed yet, and you’re asking me this?”

  “Shit, yes, I’m asking.”

  “Yes,” she said. “You’re my maid of honor. If I ever get married.”

  “I’ll talk to Seth.”

  She laughed. “Just take all the love you’re offered today, okay?”

  “Is this love?” I said. “It’s rather… stifling.”

  “Summer…”

  “Alright,” I promised. “For you.”

  When I got off the call, I glanced in my rearview mirror, and sure enough, there was Ronan.

  I picked up speed and zig-zagged through traffic a bit, heading onto the Lions Gate Bridge. Then I really sped up. I may have tried to lose him, just to see if I could
.

  I couldn’t, apparently. My Benz could move, but his Camaro held its own, and besides, it wasn’t just the car that mattered, it was the driver. He kept that thing right up my ass.

  It was kind of exhilarating, actually. Like foreplay or something.

  When I pulled into Brody’s driveway in North Vancouver, the brief high totally crashed and burned, though. I got out of my car and fucking sighed.

  The driveway wasn’t empty. Both Ash’s truck and Xander’s Corvette were parked in front of Brody’s garage.

  Ronan parked on the street and headed over to me. “Were you trying to lose me?”

  I turned on him. He looked about as annoyed as I felt. “I sure was.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it was fun.”

  That seemed to leave him speechless. Not the answer—or the sass—he’d expected. “So, you thought speeding like that was a good idea?”

  “No. I thought it was a fun idea.”

  “Well, next time, maybe you have fun under the speed limit.”

  “Yeah. Sounds like a real thrill ride.” I planted my hands on my hips. “Was this your idea? Or Brody’s?”

  “What?” He eyed me carefully.

  “The ambush.” I nodded over my shoulder. “Ashley and Xander are here, too?”

  “I don’t know who’s here,” he said, his stony face blank. “I just got here.”

  “Well, let me help you out.” I pointed. “That’s my lead singer’s truck. And that’s my drummer’s car. So. You want to tell me what my whole band is doing here?”

  “Matt Brohmer is in Australia,” he said. He actually did it with a straight face, too.

  However… The fact that he knew who my bassist, Matt Brohmer, was—and knew exactly where he was right now—told me one of two things. Either a) he knew who I was all along and lied about it for some reason… or, more likely b) somewhere between asking me Are you, by any chance, DJ Summer? last night, and this moment, Ronan Sterling had done his research on me.

  “Okay. What is most of my band doing here?” I pressed.

  “I imagine they’re here for the meeting.”

  I narrowed my eyes, studying him. The man had sass of his own. And he was incredibly dry about it. It could almost slip past if you weren’t looking for it. But I was looking.