Rock God
Author: Brooklyn Ann
Date: 2016-09-26 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Music
Description: Most rock stars would be revolted if a homeless woman fainted in their arms. Dante Deity is not most rock stars. THE ROMANCE WRITER Shayna Gray is fleeing her past. Tragedy, infidelity, heartbreak: the midlist romance author has suffered it all. She was strong enough to run, like a spunky heroine from one of her novels, and soon she'll be flying…just as soon as she can walk again. After walking from Portland to Sacramento, Shayna wakes up in the hospital with famous rock star, Dante Deity offering to take her to his mansion to recuperate. Unlike her abusive ex-husband or her bullying mother, D
Publisher: Createspace
Rights: Copyright 2016 Brooklyn Ann

THEY’RE EVERYTHING
THEY DON’T KNOW THE OTHER NEEDS

HE’S THE BEST THERE IS

Dante Deity is revered by everyone who knows anything about heavy metal music, and he’s respected by everyone else. Rich, handsome, and successful, he has a voice like velvet-wrapped lightning and an ability to juggle numerous philanthropic ventures and still crank out hits. When he’s on tour, music is his life. When he’s taking a break, he’s thinking about his next tour—or working on a project that helps him forget he’s alone. In front of him lies his next endeavor.

SHE’S READY TO BE MORE

Shayna Gray is fleeing her past. Tragedy, infidelity, heartbreak: the twenty-five year old has suffered it all. She was strong enough to run, however, like a spunky heroine from one of her novels, and soon she’ll be flying…just as soon as she can walk again. But this time, she has help. Unlike her abusive ex-husband or her bullying mother, the man standing before her is determined she succeed. In fact, Dante commands it. But while his intensity and generosity can easily win her heart, to gain her trust a man must first prove she’s something worth worshipping. Even—or especially—a rock god.

PRAISE FOR THE HEARTS OF METAL SERIES

“I really enjoyed this book. It’s one of those that hit all my happy buttons and allowed me to live out a fantasy through the words of the author.”

—Smexy Books on Kissing Vicious

“KISSING VICIOUS is a sensual, rockin’ romance with a hero to die for.”

—Fresh Fiction

“This is not your usual rocker romance. I thank the author for creating strong characters and taking a different course from usual. We really need more strong characters like Kinley and Quinn in the romance genre.”

—The Romance Reviews

“Romance is deftly blended with humour, fantasy is tinged with tragedy, and the whole thing rolls along, nicely underpinned by a solid soundtrack of metal. It’s sexy, it’s absorbing and whole-heartedly refreshing, and while at the heart of it ‘Kissing Vicious’ might be a romance novel, there is much more to it than that. Consider me impressed and very pleasantly surprised.”

—Jim Goforth, Author of Undead Flesh Crave

“This book is amazing. Well-written with great character development. If you love heavy metal or stories about heavy metal bands, you are gonna love this one. Well worth reading and one I highly recommend to all.”

—All Things Book Review

“Hearts of Metal is a rock series that is not to be missed.”

—Kara’s Books

“I was hooked the minute I started reading!! This is a totally different rock star book, but that’s not a bad thing at all!! It’s refreshing to see a rock star not be all about the ‘rock star’ lifestyle. Klement and Katana’s relationship is pure and genuine and I can’t say enough good words about it!”

—B1tches N Books

“WITH VENGEANCE explores the importance of building trust within relationships…. Brooklyn Ann paints a believable picture of Kat’s PTSD. She also gives enough background for her characters that they read like real people. It is nice to read a book where characters have histories and hobbies as it makes them more realistic… The novel grabs you from the first line and doesn’t let you go. A stay up all night read.”

—The Romance Reviews

OTHER PRAISE FOR BROOKLYN ANN

“Following her promising debut (BITE ME, YOUR GRACE), Ann hits her stride with solid writing, a tasty dash of originality, and realistic relationships that zing with sexual energy. A strong sense of fun mixed with a little feminism keeps things lively and light, while the well-developed story keeps eyes on the page.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Ann’s delightful vampire world is a fun place to stop for a swift, lively evening’s enjoyment. Yes, it is a dark world, but with Ann’s propensity for subtle humor and eccentric characters, it’s an enchanting world as well. Four Stars.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Brooklyn Ann’s series is a definitely must read.”

—Romantic Reads and Such

ROCK GOD
a HEARTS OF METAL novel

Brooklyn Ann

www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

ROCK GOD

Copyright © 2016 Brooklyn Ann

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

ISBN 978-1-944262-35-8

E-book formatting by Maureen Cutajar
www.gopublished.com

Dedicated to Karen Ann

6-11-62 – 2-14-09

Every happily ever after is for you.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you so much to all the people who made this book rock! To Bonnie Paulson, Jill Cooper, Shelly Martin, Jamie de Bree, Erica Chapman, and Rissa Watkins for fabulous critiques.

Thank you to my aunt, Wendy Masten for using your ER nurse expertise to help with my research.

Thank you to my agent, Nephele Tempest, and my editor Chris Keeslar for all your hard work with me.

Thank you to Bad Movie Club for providing me with a place to relax and laugh.

And thanks to Kent Butler, my own personal rock star, for being a supportive muse, and to Micah for being a better son than I deserve.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Brooklyn Ann

ROCK GOD

Chapter One

Dante Deity shook his head when the next girl in line begged him to sign her breasts. “I’m sorry, I don’t do that for legal reasons.” For one thing, for all he knew she could be a minor. For another, a few years back a woman had attempted to slap a paternity suit on him for doing less. Favoring the young lady with his most charming smile, Dante softened the blow. “But I can sign your shirt if you’d like. This marker’s permanent.”

The girl beamed. “Okay.”

As he signed her right sleeve, Julian, his bassist, leaned over and muttered, “Can we go after this one?”

Dante shook his head. “Not until we get everyone. You know the rules. We’re not too good to give our fans due credit for being the reason we’re here. They paid good money to see us.” Just as he’d paid good money to see his idols in his youth.

Turning to the next fan, he gave the guy a firm handshake and thanked him for coming to the show before signing his record. He highly approved of the fact that vinyl was making a comeback.

He glanced over at Alex, his guitarist, and Dom, his keyboard player. The two embraced his autograph policy because they’d been so often overlooked in their previous bands—especially Dom, who was so quiet. Alex was still new and regarded Dante with a combination of fear and hero worship. He’d get over it, but in the meantime, it came in handy because Dante didn’t have to waste time explaining why he wanted anything done a certain way. Zander, his drummer, could go either way about sticking around for every autograph. Tonight he looked impatient, but that was likely more because this was their last show of the tour and he was eager to get back home. He and Dante both lived here in Sacramento, and the tour wrap party was at Zander’s house.

Niteblade, their opening band, headed out. Dante was pleased that they’d stuck around so long. Ash, the lead singer, bade them farewell, eyes wide with awe as he shook Dante’s hand. Dante shook his head, amused. Sure, he was one of the top-selling metal artists and had been in the scene for two decades, but he’d never be the top dog as long as bands like Iron Maiden were still touring.

As Dante signed various shirts, CD album sleeves and posters, he mentally ticked off his to-do list. First, they’d have a two-week break before the guys came to his place to start writing new material. Then they’d fly up to Coeur d’Alene for Viciöus’s lead singer Quinn Mayne’s wedding to his guitarist. Dante and his ex-wife Collette had agreed to sing their infamous duet there. It was one of the bride’s favorite songs.

A nauseating mix of emotions rose up in Dante—remorse, at his failure of a marriage, and anger at Colette for retreating from the public two years after their divorce—but he tamped it down and moved to the next item on his list: More song-writing in July. Then it would be off to the recording studio in August, and they’d be back on tour next spring.

Next spring? That was too big of a gap. Which was why Dante was coordinating another mini benefit tour. This time, he’d give the proceeds to the Stand Up and Shout Cancer Fund.

A new fan interrupted his inner checklist, sliding a picture of a cat in front of him. He knew that cat.

“I adopted Havoc from your program!” the fan gushed. “You are such a saint for saving cats from the shelter and fostering them! Are you ever going to do the same with dogs?”

Dante shook his head. “I’m not able to give dogs the care they need, so instead I donate to other foster programs.” With the need to train canines, walk them, and take them outside to poop, he couldn’t get anything done. The worst cats did was walk on his keyboard when he was trying to answer email.

“Havoc was fun,” he recalled as he signed the picture. “I hope you’re keeping the catnip locked up.”

Dante chuckled, remembering the time the determined feline got the nip out of the cupboard and spread it all around the kitchen, dining room, and living room. Oh shit! he almost said aloud. The memory had prodded a realization that he’d missed something on his list. He’d forgotten to call the shelter to arrange to pick up more cats. He’d have to do so first thing in the morning.

The autograph session finally finished, and Dante and the band headed out to the wrap party. His bandmates, all younger than him, chattered eagerly about the babes that awaited. Dante yawned. As he was pushing forty, he found himself less and less enthused by this aspect of the rock-star lifestyle. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy sex, though it had indeed been awhile; it was that he didn’t do casual sex. And having a girlfriend—or God forbid, another wife—was more trouble than it was worth. He was just too much of a workaholic.

Also, so he’d been told, he was too emotionally distant to be in a relationship.

He was fine with that. He had his projects to occupy him.

Dante and his band were nearing the tour bus when he heard a scream. The terror and desperation of the voice made his hackles rise. Whoever had made the sound was close. Really close.

His bandmates and the band security guards paused then quickened their steps toward the bus. Dante shook his head. That just wouldn’t do.

He headed around the corner of the building.

“What’re you doing, man?” one of the security guards demanded.

“Hey, the bus is the other way,” Zander, his drummer, called out.

Dante ignored them and came upon a sight right out of an action movie. Two thugs decked out in gold chains and basketball jerseys were advancing upon what at first looked like a little girl, but as she scrambled to her feet and wiped the blood from her chin, rage glinting in her dark eyes, he saw that she was a full-grown woman.

Fury welled up in Dante’s chest. Whatever was happening here, it definitely wasn’t cool.

“Hey, assholes!” he yelled. “Leave her alone!”

The girl’s attackers glared at him, and Dante suddenly felt silly. This wasn’t an action movie. He wasn’t a superhero or a martial arts expert. As a lead singer, he didn’t even have a guitar to hit them with. His microphone stand might come in handy, but it was in the truck with the rest of the gear.

At least his interruption had helped. While the thugs were gaping at him, the woman took advantage of their distraction. Dark eyes blazing, she swung her backpack and struck the closest guy upside the head. There was a loud clunk and the guy went down. Whatever was in there must be hard.

Dante started forward again, and the other attacker’s eyes widened before he fled. A surge of triumph washed over Dante, but then he saw that the security guards and his band had come onto the scene behind him.

“If they’d been armed, I’d have sued for hazard pay,” one of them growled.

Julian grunted. “Get over yourself. This is your job.”

At the sight of the approaching muscle, the other thug got to his feet and ran away. The woman limped toward Dante and the others, panting with exhaustion, her chin bleeding.

“Thanks for saving me,” she gasped.

“No problem,” Alex replied, as if he were responsible.

Dante rolled his eyes at his guitarist and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, ignoring the reek of dirt and old sweat emanating from her. Clearly she hadn’t had a bath in some time. “Are you alright?”

She looked up at him with rich brown eyes shadowed with dark circles of pain and fatigue…and something else: a drowning grief that seemed to spear his soul.

“I’m fine,” she said in a hollow voice.

She didn’t look fine. Her cheeks were ashen, and her large dark eyes were glazed and heavy-lidded with blatant exhaustion. Not drugs, though. He’d seen enough of that to recognize the symptoms. No, this looked more like he might after a week in the studio, with constant work and no sleep. What had she done to put herself in that state?

As Dante scrutinized her, the woman babbled on. “Did you guys enjoy the concert? I could hear it from out here. The band sounded great.”

She thought they were just concertgoers. Dante exchanged amused looks with his bandmates.

“It was a good show,” he agreed, hiding a smile. “Hey, do you need a—?”

“Could you tell me where the nearest homeless shelter is?” she interrupted. “It’s raining and…” Her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed. He just barely caught her.

“Oh, that’s just great,” Zander groaned. “She’s a bum. Put her down, Dante, before you catch something.”

“Fuck you,” he replied to the drummer, lifting her fully into his arms. For some reason she didn’t strike him as a bum, despite her grimy hair and filthy clothes… Something about her cried out that recent circumstances had put her in this state. “I was gonna offer her a ride anyway. The least we can do is take her to a shelter. Can one of you guys grab her backpack?”

Once he had her settled upon a plush bench seat on the bus, Dante tried to wake her up, but she just mumbled and her head lolled to the side. He quickly realized that a shelter wasn’t the best option. Her forehead burned with fever, and her shoes, or what was left of them, were stained with fresh blood. He removed them as gently as possible, which was difficult as her feet were swollen. The remains of her bloody socks came off easier, revealing broken, bleeding blisters. He cringed from both their rancid smell and her whimpers of pain.

Zander drew back. “God, that smells!”

“Shut up and look at this,” Dante growled, though his drummer had a point about the odor. His own eyes were watering. “She needs to go to the hospital.”

Rising from his bench, he repeated that edict to the driver. When he returned, Alex breathed, “Jesus. What happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” Dante said, just as impatient to get answers. Had she escaped some psycho kidnapper? Gotten high on something and wandered through the desert? Run away from an abusive husband…?

“Get a cold cloth or something. Maybe we can revive her and she’ll tell us.” He gently shifted the woman on the seat so that her head was in his lap. Her hair was so grungy that it had started to form dreadlocks, but at least it didn’t smell as bad as her feet. Then he had another thought. “And we should probably check her backpack and see if she has any ID.”

As he reached for the backpack, Dante realized just how fascinated he was with this woman. This sudden mission to aid her had chased away the ennui that always crept up on him between tours and recordings. Helping this poor lady would be a new project, albeit a brief one: only a few hours tops. That was probably for the best, though, as it would be quite a bit more intensive than fostering cats.

Careful not to jar the woman, he opened her backpack. “Jackpot,” he said cheerfully to the others. “There’s a laptop. She’s no vagrant.”

Dom carefully pulled out the laptop and opened it. “No good,” he said. “The screen’s busted, and the case is cracked from bashing that son of a bitch’s head in. And, how do we know she didn’t steal it?”

Dante sighed. “Good point.”

He rummaged through the rest of the backpack, taking out dirty clothes, a power cord and a makeup bag that contained no makeup but several flash drives. It was a shame the computer was broken. There was likely tons of information on each.

He looked around. “Any of you have a laptop handy?”

The others shook their heads.

In the backpack, Dante’s hand lingered on a small powder blue blanket adorned with teddy bears. Unlike everything else, it was relatively clean. Why this and not something more practical? Shrugging, he shoved the rest of the stuff back in the bag. Then he felt a hard lump inside a shirt.

“Bingo,” he said, pulling out a wallet.

The face on the driver’s license matched that of the comatose woman—well, sort of. The Oregon resident, class-D driver Shayna Jones, age twenty-five, looked like an airbrushed model compared to the filthy, banged-up lady on his lap. Only the dark eyes, height of five-two, and cute, upturned nose confirmed that they were one and the same person.

His gaze lingered on her picture for a while before he went through the rest of the wallet. There were an insurance card, a bank card, a Portland library card, and some grocery store cards. That was it. No cash, receipts, or family photos. In fact, the little photo sleeve was reduced to a dangling scrap of clear plastic like it had been torn out…

Actually, a picture hid there in a rear slot. Dante slipped it carefully free, frowning as he realized it was ripped in half. Shayna smiled back at him, holding a newborn baby that was all dimples and eyes. A man’s hand gripped her shoulder, but the rest of his image had been torn away.

Was that who she was running from? Where was the baby?

Dante frowned as he put the wallet in his pocket. The library card looked fairly new, so she couldn’t have been away from home too long.

Julian handed him a wet cloth, and Dante gently placed it on Shayna’s forehead. She gave no response, but at least she was breathing.

Carefully, Dante cleaned the dirt off her face, delicately blotting at the raw wound on her chin. Her brows tightened and her breath hitched, but she still did not awaken.

The bus lurched to a stop in front of the ER building at the hospital. “We’re here,” the driver called.

“I’ll take her in and get a cab afterwards,” Dante said as he slung her backpack over his shoulder. He lifted Shayna, frowning again at her lightness. Between the workouts he got onstage and regular swimming, he was fairly fit, but holding her was too easy. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that she’d missed too many meals.

“You mean, you’re not just gonna drop her off?” Dom asked incredulously.

Dante shook his head. “I want to make sure she’s okay.”

The keyboardist looked bemused. “White-knighting again? You’ll still show up at the after-party, though, right?”

“I don’t know,” Dante said. “Maybe.”

The inanity of it all made his head hurt. Here they were talking about a party when there was an unconscious and bleeding woman in his arms. Yes, this was Sacramento, and yes, comatose people, violence, and drug overdoses were regular sights in the world of heavy metal, but still, the coldness of his bandmates disturbed him. Had they all become so jaded?

At first, the ER staff were indifferent to him and his charge. Besides the usual gunshot wounds being a higher priority, Dante looked liked a miscreant with his long hair and stage attire of leather and chains. But then other people with less pressing issues seemed like they were being helped.

With a frustrated groan, Dante glared at the woman behind the counter who’d handed him a form he’d barely been able to fill out. “How much longer are we going to have to wait?”

“Sorry, sir,” she replied. “We need to check on her insurance before we can put her in the queue. It won’t be much longer.”

Dante sighed. He didn’t do this often, but… “Do you know who I am?”

“No, sir.”

Just then, the other receptionist hung up the phone, looked at him, and gasped. “Oh my God, you’re Dante Deity!”

The first receptionist frowned. “Who’s Dante Deedy?”

The second rolled her eyes. “Only the king of metal. He was on the cover of Rolling Stone last month. We can’t keep his friend waiting. Do you have any idea how much money he donated to this hospital last year?”

The first receptionist shrugged. “Don’t know him. I just listen to pop.”

“Oh. Well, he’s the guy who married Coll—”

Dante sighed. “Forget about what I said. It’s not important. Shouldn’t you be attending to this young woman, regardless of whether her insurance is valid?”

“Exactly. It’s our jobs,” the second receptionist said, nodding while the first paged a nurse. Then she looked up at him. “Can I have your autograph?”

As Shayna was wheeled off to be treated, Dante signed autographs for both receptionists—and for a few of the other waiting patients who knew him. He should have left then, but something compelled him to stay and make sure she was well taken care of. To talk to her and maybe hear in her own words what had happened. And to find out who she was. For some reason, that seemed imperative.

For the next few hours he flipped through magazines and even managed to doze in the uncomfortable ER seat. A nurse awoke him with a gentle tap to the shoulder.

“She’s awake, and she wants to thank you.”

“How is she?” Dante asked.

The nurse frowned at him over her clipboard. “I’m afraid I cannot disclose medical information without the patient’s consent, but you can ask Shayna.”

Dante rose and followed the nurse. He stopped her just outside of the hospital room. “What are you going to do with her now?”

The nurse shook her head. “If she’s homeless, as you suspect, we’ll have to direct her to a shelter, but what she really needs is at least a week of rest and plenty of food and fluids. And that is all I’m allowed to say unless she gives me permission to tell you more.”

“I’ll take her home with me.”

The words were out of Dante’s mouth before he thought. But, once he spoke, conviction filled his pores.

A person to rescue, something broken to fix, a mystery to solve.

“That is beyond kind of you,” the nurse replied with wide eyes. “But it will have to be up to the patient.”

Dante nodded. “I guess I’ll just have to convince her.”

The nurse nodded and headed off down the hall, her shoes whispering along the sanitized floor. Dante waited, lingering at the door to Shayna’s room and finally hearing the nurse’s hushed voice as she spoke to the doctor.

“The blisters on her feet were so severe, I’d almost think she walked here from Portland.”

Chapter Two

Shayna continued walking, focusing every cell of her being into placing one foot in front of the other. Her feet had been numb for the last few miles, but now the pain returned with unbearable virulence. When it rained, her hair slapped against her cheeks like soaked whips, and the remains of her socks squelched in her shoes. Then the sun would come out and the asphalt would scorch her feet through the holes in her soles.

She didn’t know how many miles she’d covered, or how long she’d been walking. Had it been two weeks, or three? Time had blurred since she set out on that first day, when the last thread of her life had been lopped off.

As her shambling steps carried her forward, her torn shoes resembled toothless mouths. They made dull fwapping sounds as she walked. People moved out of her way on the sidewalk, the streetlights reflecting their hostile stares. Shayna knew she looked like hell, but she didn’t care. Her only focus was finding a place to lie down before she fell. Every blister pierced her feet like hot irons. Even walking on the sides of her arches no longer helped.

The blisters broke. A weak whimper escaped her lips, but she continued walking. The pain in her feet was preferable to the agony of her memories; in fact, she welcomed it. Unfortunately, her body’s ability to cooperate dwindled with every throbbing step. She needed to rest and maybe decide what to do.

As if the skies mocked her predicament, it began to rain again. So much for sunny California.

The ground suddenly pulsed under her feet, sending fresh jolts of pain from her toes to her skull. At first Shayna thought it was an earthquake, but then her head cleared and she heard faint music. There must be a concert going on in the stadium up ahead. As she drew nearer, the music was more audible, calling her like the Pied Piper’s flute. Shayna avoided the parking lot and headed toward the rear of the building, keeping an eye out for security guards who would no doubt run her off if she got too close.

She found a dark alcove shielded from the rain. There she sat down, her feet screaming as she rested her head against the concrete wall. She could hear the crowd cheering as a new song began, and the music was enticingly familiar. She’d heard the song before, a long time ago. In another lifetime. And the singer… God, his voice was beautiful. Shayna closed her eyes and gave herself over to aching nostalgia and bittersweet dreams.

When she woke, the music had stopped. Shayna thought it was the silence that roused her, but then a pair of dark shadows fell over her.

“Want some company, lady?” a drunken voice slurred.

Shayna’s eyes snapped open, and her soon-to-be attackers vanished into the light of the hospital room.

Hospital?

A nurse leaned over her and smiled, speaking words that Shayna only partially understood. Fatigue, dehydration, something about her feet… Confusion, a side effect. But a side effect of what?

Hoping she sounded coherent, Shayna struggled to ask how she’d gotten here. The nurse beamed and explained that a man had rescued her. Slowly, Shayna understood more of what was being said. Did Shayna want to thank the man?

Reflexively, she nodded. Shayna’s mother always said to express gratitude.

A shadowy figure filled the doorway, and a tremor of trepidation shimmied down Shayna’s spine. Suddenly, the idea of thanking her rescuer didn’t seem like a good one. The world still blurred in and out of focus. Who was he? What did he want? What if she made a fool of herself?

“Hello, Shayna,” the man said. “How are you feeling?”

His voice warmed her more than the thin hospital blanket. Shayna struggled to sit up, wincing as an IV dug into her arm. It took all of her willpower to get her eyes to focus on her visitor, but she managed. With his long black hair and chain-bedecked leather outfit, he should look dangerous, but he didn’t. If anything, he was handsome. Too damn handsome. Dark curls framed a chiseled face that reminded her of a movie star’s. Bright, friendly blue eyes with only a trace of laugh lines glimmered in harmony with a smile that made her belly flutter.

He was of medium height and slim, yet his presence felt larger. There was also something familiar about him, but that was probably her memory of his rescue trying to surface.

“I’m alright, considering.” Her voice came out groggy and cracked, but at least it was intelligible. “They said you paid my copay and offered to cover everything that the insurance won’t. I can’t thank you enough. I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said, obviously not believing she was capable of handling her debt.

The amusement in his eyes gave her a twinge of annoyance. She was half tempted to explain that she had a few thousand dollars of book royalties put away, but it seemed ridiculous to claim she was an author when she didn’t know if she could ever bring herself to write again.

“Really,” she protested, desperate to assert she wasn’t completely helpless. “When I get out of here—”

“About that,” the man interrupted, plopping down in the chair by the bed. “I’ve decided that you’re coming home with me.”

At first his authoritative tone made her instinctively agree. Almost. But no, this wasn’t her husband. Ex-husband. This wasn’t her mother. This wasn’t anyone she knew or could trust, or even knew not to trust. He was a stranger.

Shayna choked off a horrified laugh. Who did he think he was?

“You decided? Sir, I don’t think—”

“Call me Dante,” the man said with a boyish smile. “‘Sir’ makes me feel old.”

Before Shayna could recover from that smile, the man changed the subject. “So, what happened to your feet? I overheard the nurses saying it looked like you walked here all the way from Portland.”

“I did,” Shayna answered without thinking. She bit her lip, wishing she could take back the words. Now he’d think she was crazy. But walking was the only thing that made sense. It had been the only calm in the storm of her life. During childhood, she’d preferred walking over taking the school bus unless the weather was bad. Ever since she’d married Shawn, she couldn’t make it through the day without at least a morning walk, rain or shine.

Shawn. Her husband’s cruel words echoed in her mind. “I see no sense in pretending anymore. I’ll start the divorce proceedings tomorrow.” The door had slammed behind him, and his car roared out of the driveway, no doubt on the way back to her place. Shayna had sunk to the floor, her heart reduced to an aching, dying mass. It wasn’t the affair that hurt the most; it was that he’d been with that other woman when Shayna needed him. That Shawn had been screwing around on her the night her world ended.

The howl of a caged thing had torn from her throat. A voice in her mind spoke with irrefutable conviction: Leave now. There is nothing for you here. To stay will give him more power over you.

The confident voice was right. If Shawn was in such a hurry to be rid of her, it was time to be rid of him. She would start the proceedings on her own terms. But why hadn’t that voice spoken up until now?

She had frantically dashed through the house, throwing things into a backpack with little thought. She had made a few phone calls—voice calm, belying her panic—and then stepped out of her immaculate suburban home in Portland, Oregon, and walked, stopping only at the courthouse to pick up divorce paperwork to fill out. After that…she’d walked farther than she ever had in her life, trying to outdistance the pain. As if her shame and grief were imprinted on her forehead, she avoided people, stopping only to eat and wash at truck stops and convenience stores. Sleep only came when she collapsed from exhaustion in an alley, or on a park bench; it didn’t matter where. When the nightmares woke her, she got up and walked them off.

“Damn,” Dante said slowly, bringing her back to the present. “May I ask why?”

A thread of steel in that dark blue gaze compelled her to answer…if she could only find the words.

She sighed. “It’s a long story.”

Dante leaned forward, dark hair falling over one eye. “Good, you’ll have plenty of time to tell me while you’re recovering at my place.” His expression sobered. “You need to rest, eat, and stay off your feet. Do you really think you’ll be able to do that at some homeless shelter?”

“No, but…but…why are you doing this?” she demanded. Panic gained the upper hand at the prospect of going home with a stranger, even one as good-looking as Dante.

To hell with his looks. He could be a serial killer! her mother’s voice squawked in Shayna’s head.

The confident voice scoffed. A serial killer? If he’s been waiting at the hospital so long and associating with me in front of so many witnesses, he’s a bad one. Besides, he doesn’t give off that vibe. Still, be careful.

She would, as autocratic as this man came across. The last thing Shayna needed was to be trapped under another man’s thumb.

Dante broke off her inner argument. He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on her, and said, “Because I want to help you. I swear I don’t have any other motives.”

Maybe she was dreaming. Nobody could have eyes this beautiful. They were the most striking shade of blue and seemed to peer into her very soul. Shayna took a deep, shuddering breath—which didn’t help because she caught a whiff of his masculine scent. Pheromones did unsettling things to her lower body, and she shivered. It had been too long since she’d been with anyone. Her husband hadn’t touched her since the pregnancy began to show.

Now, don’t go down that path, her inner voice said sharply, or you will be in danger, no matter what.

“You can leave as soon as you want, I promise,” Dante added in a reassuring voice, though his eyes remained determined.

Shayna struggled to think straight. The nurse had said confusion was a normal symptom of fatigue, but this was getting ridiculous. She looked away from Dante and considered the odds. He didn’t have a predatory look to him like the guys who’d attacked her…but he was still a stranger, and a bossy one at that. Unfortunately, with how badly her feet throbbed, it was doubtful she’d be able to walk for a few days at least.

Tentatively, she wiggled her toes. Immediate, stabbing agony made her grit her teeth, underlining the fact that she had few choices. Furthermore, she still had no idea where she was walking to. Aside from the vague idea to head south in case winter struck while she was still on the road, Shayna had no real destination. Her common-sense voice had screamed at her to settle down and get an apartment or something, but Shayna had ignored it, unable to face reality just yet. Getting out from under Shawn’s control had been everything.

Despite the insanity of the situation, Shayna decided to take Dante up on his offer. After all, there were undoubtedly more strange men at the shelter, and this one looked harmless enough. From his appearance, he was still trying to live the glory days of his youth, but damn, the rocker look was good on him. With that skintight leather and long hair, Dante was the very antithesis of her corporate ex-hus—

She cut off that train of thought and focused on practicalities. Unbidden, her eyes strayed to his left hand, looking for a wedding ring. His fingers were bare. And what wife would allow her husband to dress up like that and go to rock concerts? Okay, she’d been worthless at preventing Shawn from doing whatever he wanted, but that was beside the point.

So, Dante was single. He probably had a scruffy bachelor pad, she reasoned, so besides paying him back, she could clean up his place and cook him a few decent meals before she left for…wherever she was going to go.

His scent teased her again, and her cheeks grew hot at the realization that she not only looked horrible, she no doubt smelled worse. Her feet had been cleaned and bandaged, and it looked like her arms had been given a half-hearted sponge, but that had only taken care of the first of many layers of filth. Her skin prickled as if she could feel the dirt and grime covering her body. Funny, how she hadn’t cared until now.

“May I use your shower?” she asked. Her muscles tightened at the thought of moving, but her mind recoiled from remaining dirty in his presence. Her mother’s voice ranted in her head about the state of her hair, her nails, her face. Nervously, she licked chapped lips.

“Of course.” That gorgeous smile returned, and Shayna’s belly fluttered.

She fought off her trepidation and confusion and nodded. “Okay, then.”

***

After she filed a quick police report with the resident officer at the hospital—which probably wouldn’t do any good since she didn’t have a good description of the men—a nurse helped Shayna into a wheelchair and gave her a supply of gauze and pain meds.

Shayna looked up at Dante as he wheeled her out into the night and to a waiting cab. “You don’t have a car? How did we get here?”

“We took the bus.”

Shayna frowned as her mother’s voice returned. How did this guy expect to take care of her if he didn’t have transportation? Did he even have a job? And if he didn’t, how had he paid the hospital bill? What if he was a drug dealer? Her stomach churned with speculation. This was a bad idea. She should have taken her chances at the shelter and—

The feel of his warm, hard body against hers as he lifted her from the wheelchair silenced the shrieking voice and made goose bumps rise up on her skin.

“You don’t have to carry me,” she said softly, her head swimming.

“I think I do.” His firm voice rumbled against her ear. His hair tickled her cheek.

As the cab took off to their destination, Shayna had another horrifying thought. What if he still lived with his parents? That could explain the extra money he had to throw around on concerts and medical expenses for strangers, but if that was the case, what would his parents say about him bringing her home? Would he hide her like a middle-aged kid smuggling in a stray dog?

“Does anyone else live with you?” she asked.

“No, it’s just me,” he replied. “But I have company often.”

“Oh,” she said. She’d just bet he did, with his gorgeous hair and eyes, and those kissable lips. A fierce surge of jealousy caught her off guard. Shayna considered asking him what he did for a living…and then discarded the idea. It sounded too much like a blind-date interview.

Dante had lapsed into silence, staring out the window into the darkness. Shayna did the same, and her eyelids grew heavy.

“We’re here.”

She didn’t even remember falling asleep, but Dante’s voice woke her. Shayna’s eyes opened, and she jerked her head off his shoulder so fast her neck popped. Her cheeks flamed. She’d been more intimate with this man in the past few hours of knowing him than in the whole last year with her husband.

He helped her out of the cab, picking her up as if she weighed nothing. Those muscles were strong and hard, belying his lean form. Shayna didn’t protest this time, either. Even in the darkness, the sight of Dante’s home knocked the breath from her body. It wasn’t a slummy apartment. It was a mansion.

Her stomach dropped like a leaden weight as the truth of her situation slammed back down on her with painful clarity. She knew nothing about this man. Nothing at all.

She peered over Dante’s shoulder to hide her gaping expression and caught a glimpse of the cab’s headlights blaring off back down the gated drive. Here she was, alone with a stranger. Who was he, and what, other than rich? Why would a rich guy offer to take her in? If only she hadn’t been too exhausted to attempt to learn more about him before she agreed to this. If only she’d had time to think this offer through. Why the hell had she agreed to it?

Too late, her inner voice remarked.

She opened her mouth to say something about the elaborate house, but then closed it as she couldn’t find a polite way to broach the subject. Her mother had ingrained in her that it was rude to pry.

But what if he’s a serial killer or something? the motherly voice screamed as well. Rich people have strange hobbies.

Shayna’s instincts rejected that idea. There had been too much tenderness and empathy in his gaze. Still, there was something about Dante, like a half-remembered song—

Her thoughts broke off as his hand shifted slightly higher on her thigh. Heat flared at the contact even as she panicked. Was he already trying to assert some sort of sexual claim on her?

“I’m going to have to put you down a second so I can get the key.”

“Okay,” Shayna squeaked.

Her mind raced, but got nowhere, like a pack of hamsters in wheels. That sense she was missing something about him hovered in the corner of her consciousness, and she kept coming back to the concert where he’d rescued her. Something about a song…

Her feet touched the ground, and pain exploded all the way up to the top of her skull, despite the thick bandaging and hospital booties. Shayna bit back a cry, only a whimper escaping. Black and white spots flashed before her eyes, and she began to sway.

Dante steadied her. He murmured soothing nonsense words. The door opened, and he lifted her back into his arms.

He entered the house. Shayna gaped at her surroundings as the lights went on. The place was immaculate, with gleaming hardwood floors, plush carpeting, and ornate furnishings that were either antique or expensive reproductions. She definitely didn’t belong here.

Dante began to lower her onto a fluffy couch, and she stiffened. “No!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I need a bath,” she said, panic clawing at her throat. “I don’t want to touch anything until I’m clean.”

She could practically see stink waves coming off her skin, like Pigpen from the Peanuts cartoons. Grime and sweat from her journey caked every inch of her body. Her hair was greasy and her scalp itched. If she touched anything, it would be contaminated forever.

“Relax, Shayna. This isn’t a fu—damn shrine.” When she gazed up at him with pleading eyes, however, he sighed. “Fine, I’ll take you upstairs. Don’t squirm. I don’t want to drop you.”

They made a careful trip up the carpeted stairs and into a fancy bedroom. “You can sleep here, and the bathroom’s in there.” Dante nodded at another door as he set her on the bed. “I’m going to see about getting us some dinner.”

“Um…” Shayna was mortified that she had to bring up the subject, but it was that or face her host looking like Sasquatch if he happened to get a peek at her legs. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra razor, would you?”

Dante opened the bathroom door and pulled a disposable out of a medicine cabinet. His eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to do anything stupid with it, are you?”

Shayna rolled her eyes. “If I’d wanted to die, I could have let those jerks take care of it earlier.”

He glared at her, eyes dark as pewter. “That’s not funny,” he said in a cold, flat voice. “And considering what you did to your feet, I think I have the right to ask.”

Shayna swallowed, but refused to flinch. “I’d really like to take a bath now.” She held her hand out for the razor.

Dante sighed and handed it to her. “You’d better be out and in one piece in an hour. And be careful with your feet,” he commanded on the way out.

“Yes, sir!” she fired back, irritated at his bossiness.

He glanced over his shoulder and raised his eyebrow before closing the door.

The bathtub was soon full of blissfully steaming water. Shayna carefully undressed and unwrapped the bandages from her aching feet. The hospital had given her a ton of gauze and a giant tube of medicine, but it still seemed a waste to throw away the fresh bandages. But getting clean was her first priority.

Getting into the tub, Shayna fully dedicated herself to scrubbing every trace of her long walk from her body. The grimy mess of her hair took forever. She saved her feet for last, biting back a cry as the soft sponge grazed her blisters. Thank goodness the ER staff had already cleaned them up pretty well.

Just as she was getting ready to turn on the shower to rinse and wash her hair a second time, Dante knocked.

“It hasn’t been an hour yet!” Shayna cried. She couldn’t help her pleading tone. The warm water felt so good.

“I’m just setting out a shirt and sweats for you to wear…and making sure you’re okay.”

His voice had taken on that talking-down-a-jumper tone again, and apologetic embarrassment knotted Shayna’s belly. “Oh. Thank you,” she said. She hadn’t thought of the clothing situation. “And I am fine, I promise.”

She washed her hair again. As she did, she prayed her feet would heal quickly. If there was this much awkwardness between them now, it would only get worse as time went by.

Chapter Three

Dante shook his head, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. The woman argued with him. Shayna’s outspokenness was refreshing in a way. No one had protested anything he’d said or done in years. With his celebrity status and undisputed position as one of the most influential musicians in the heavy metal world, all but his closest friends seemed to tiptoe around him for fear of causing offense.

He placed one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweats outside the bathroom door, but then he frowned. She didn’t have any clean underwear. Hell, she didn’t have anything clean. It seemed he’d have to do laundry before his housekeeper came in tomorrow.

He headed back downstairs and put a frozen pizza in the oven since no one would deliver at three in the morning. Then he settled on the couch and went through Shayna’s backpack. The moment he got a closer look at the clothes, he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Everything was torn and stained. Shayna needed a new wardrobe.

Humming, he grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and went back to examining her clothes, jotting down the sizes on the tags, fully immersed in his new project. When that was finished, he threw the ripped up clothes in the garbage—but not the little blue blanket, which he put in the wash on the delicate cycle. That scrap of fabric seemed important. Dante then began writing down other stuff a woman like Shayna would need.

He’d just gotten past the basic toiletries and into the more complex stuff —would she want nail polish?—when he heard a noise in the kitchen. Dante set down the notepad and went to investigate, and he found Shayna kneeling on the floor, rummaging in the cupboard under the sink.

She had a very nice ass, he realized, and his cock stirred with agreement. Then guilt suffused him. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, and the last time was a disaster. This situation wouldn’t be any better. Making a move on a woman in a weakened state was simply not honorable, not to mention that he didn’t want the complication of a relationship ever again. Dante willed his body to calm. Shayna was a project, nothing more.

The sight of her task chased away his lust, replacing desire with irritation that she was disregarding her feet again. She had to be in pain.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

Shayna bolted upright, bumping her head on the cupboard. A can of Comet tumbled from one hand and rolled across the floor. She held a sponge in a death grip, and her eyes were terrified.

Dante took one look and bit back a curse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he grumbled awkwardly. Maybe he wasn’t as good at being a caretaker as he’d thought.

“It’s okay.” She picked up the cleanser and scrambled awkwardly to her feet. Her face contorted with pain. “I’m just going to clean out the tub.”

Dante blinked. This woman had been attacked, passed out in his arms, and then spent hours in the hospital. She hadn’t even eaten, yet somehow she’d mustered the energy to hobble down to his kitchen for cleaning supplies? Was she crazy? Shaking his head, he strode forward and took the Comet away before she could protest.

She held tight to the sponge.

“No,” he said, “you won’t be cleaning anything. You’re going to eat and rest.”

“But I don’t want you to see the mess I made!” she protested.

His frown deepened. What kind of a life had she led to make her worry about something so trivial and impractical? He struggled to sound patient when he said, “I won’t see anything. The housekeeper will take care of it tomorrow.”

At that, she seemed even more horrified, but the oven timer beeped just in time to halt the argument. He held out his hand.

“That’s dinner. Come on now.”

Reluctantly, she handed over the sponge. Dante frowned and set it on the counter with the Comet. If Shayna was a clean-freak, she’d drive him crazy before the week was over. Either that, or she and his housekeeper would have a brawl.

Dante smiled. It was doubtful anyone could tangle with Rosa and come out on top.

He took her arm and slowly guided Shayna out of the kitchen. When her breath hitched with pain, he scooped her up and carried her to the couch before returning to the kitchen to pull out the pizza.

“That smells delicious,” Shayna said as he returned with their plates.

“Yeah, well, the doctor said you should eat high calories.” And he’d make sure she ate as much as possible. “You can’t get much higher than pizza, which is the best option at this hour since I just got back in town and haven’t restocked my fridge.”

“You’re really taking this caretaker business seriously, aren’t you?”

He glanced over at her. Her dark eyes were impossibly huge, and now that she was cleaned up he realized Shayna was a truly beautiful woman. With those eyes and that slightly pointed chin, she resembled a pixie. Her breasts were perky, if on the small side, making a tantalizing outline beneath the fabric of the Black Sabbath shirt he’d loaned her.

Attraction sent an electric shiver up his spine, but Dante fought it off with a shrug. “Yeah, well, I take all of my projects seriously.”

“Projects?” Her left eyebrow rose, and the corner of her mouth tilted in a way that made his knees weak. He really needed to stop reacting to her.

“Yeah,” he managed, thrusting a plate into her hands. “Now follow the doc’s orders and eat.”

Shayna frowned—probably at the blunt order, because she complied after he softened it with a smile.

As she ate, Dante compiled a grocery list for Rosa, his housekeeper, along with an explanation for Shayna’s presence. He’d give Rosa a bonus for having an extra person to cook for and clean up after, too.

Shayna was only able to eat two slices before she said she was full. Dante gave her a glass of water and had her take one of the pain pills the hospital gave her, and then he set to work on dressing her feet. She twitched as he applied the triple antibiotic ointment.

“I didn’t know it was possible for something to hurt and tickle at the same time.”

“I’m really trying to be careful,” he said, cringing every time he grazed one of her blisters. “So, what do you do? Or what did you do before you”—he attempted to word it casually—“decided to take a walk?”

“I was a housewife.”

Her voice was numb and emotionless, though her eyes glinted with an unspoken thought.

Dante’s breath halted as he realized something else. “You’re married?”

The revelation made his chest twinge for some reason. Then he remembered the torn photo.

She shook her head, and his pulse slowed. “Not anymore, I think. Where’d you put my laptop? I need to check my email and see if the divorce has been finalized and I don’t have a phone.”

“Your laptop’s broken. I think you cracked the screen over that guy’s head. You can use mine, but…” Dante held up a hand as she perked up. “Why don’t we wait until tomorrow for that? You need to focus on recovering, and you just took those meds. But…what happened?” He couldn’t resist asking, overwhelmed with curiosity about her history.

She bit her lip. “I don’t want to talk about it. At least, not yet.”

Had her husband beaten her? Was this why she’d walked so far? If so, why hadn’t she taken refuge in a women’s shelter or stayed with a friend? Did she have no one? And what about the baby? Had she left her child with the father or a relative? Dante fought off the urge to insist she elaborate and focused instead on wrapping her feet.

“Fine, but I’ll get the story out of you eventually.”

Her chin lifted, looking adorable with its little Band-Aid, so he changed the subject before she could argue.

“So, what do you do for fun? Any hobbies?” Since he would have to leave her here alone on occasion, it would be good to find something to occupy her time.

She gave him a wistful smile. “I read a lot.” She yawned. “And I write.”

Dante smiled and mentally added a notebook to his shopping list. “I have a pretty big library. Though, half of it is medieval history. That’s something that’s always fascinated me.”

Shayna perked up. “Really? Me too! Can I go see?”

Her voice slurred slightly as the meds kicked in, so Dante put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from getting up. “Not now. Tonight you need to rest.” He frowned. “You like medieval history?” Although it was wrong to stereotype housewives, he never would have imagined her having an interest in such a niche subject.

“Yeah, the culture, technology, and politics made for an interesting period, though I suppose you could say that about any age. Still, there’s something about those days…” She trailed off with another yawn, her head drooping. “Anyway, what do you do when you’re not reading about knights and castles?”

Dante chuckled and stared at the ceiling, carefully choosing his response. “I’m a musician. A singer, actually. You may have heard of me…”

He looked back at Shayna to gauge her reaction, but she was asleep. He sighed, somewhat relieved that the news of his fame would be postponed. He enjoyed her treating him like a person rather than a celebrity. Hopefully she’d continue to do so after she found out who he was. Maybe it wouldn’t even matter.

Carefully, he gathered her in his arms. She felt so light and fragile. And warm. His body stirred once more, but thankfully making it up the stairs without dropping her kept him from responding further.

Once he reached the guest room and laid her on the bed, however, it took all of his effort to keep his mind from straying to places it shouldn’t go. Irritated with himself, Dante concentrated on getting the comforter over his new guest without waking her. Then, after tucking her in, he went to his office to tackle the onerous task of answering emails and responding to fan comments on his band’s website.

He ignored the ones criticizing his new guitarist in favor of his last, who’d left the band ten years ago, and instead thanked the writers of complimentary posts. One commenter wrote about how one of his songs had helped him through a depressed time in his life, and Dante grinned and took the time to craft a more detailed reply. This was why he did this job, as much as because of the music inside him.

His smile faded a little. He remembered himself as a kid, relying on his favorite singer, Ritchie Panic, to help him through the tough times of his mother’s lingering illness—and how that singer had abandoned him and everyone else who looked up to him. The jerk. That was something Dante would never do.

Halfway through his correspondence, a piercing scream rent the air, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Dante took the stairs two at a time and burst into the guest room, expecting to see Shayna being murdered, but instead she just thrashed on the bed, her face contorted with agony. Her screams died down to incoherent moans.

“Shayna!” he called, charging forward and tripping over a pillow she’d knocked to the floor. He caught his balance and seized her shoulders. “Shayna! What’s wrong?” Was it a dream, or had something in her feet ruptured?

“He’s not breathing!” she cried, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Who’s not breathing?” Dante asked. It was apparently a nightmare—a horrible one.

“My baby!” Shayna wailed. Her voice dissolved into choking sobs.

Dante gently shook her. “Shayna, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

Her eyes fluttered open, but there was no recognition in her muddled gaze. “My baby,” she sobbed brokenly. “My baby…”

Never before had he heard such agony. Dante held Shayna tight and rocked her. “Shhhh…it was just a dream.”

“No,” she murmured in a leaden voice. “He’s really dead. I picked the coffin myself…and…and…Shawn wasn’t there.”

A lump rose in Dante’s throat. An image of that little blue blanket flashed before his eyes. The reason for Shayna’s pitiful condition was quickly coming together in his mind.

“Where was he?” he asked, already knowing from her torn photograph that the answer wouldn’t be good.

“With her!” she gasped against his shoulder.

Dante couldn’t help his outrage. Shayna’s baby had died and her husband… “He was having an affair?”

“Yeah.” A hint of anger blended with Shayna’s tears. “With the vending machine girl at his office,” she slurred, and Dante was reminded of her drug-addled semi-consciousness. He held her as she cried and ranted, stroking her back and hair. Shayna had lost her baby and was left alone while her husband betrayed her. No wonder she’d sounded so apathetic when speaking of her impending divorce. That was why she’d walked until her feet bled, too. She’d been trying to outrun the pain.

Dante couldn’t imagine that kind of agony. The loss of his mom still ached like an open sore, but losing a child? He would have gone insane. Not knowing what else to do, he sang to her.

Although he was at his best belting out powerful melodies before a crowd of thousands, he had a few soft ballads up his sleeve. Taking a deep breath, he sang his cover of Rainbow’s “Catch the Rainbow”—one of his mother’s favorites.

His voice soothed Shayna, and she relaxed in his arms, her breath flowing in the even rhythm of sleep. But Dante wasn’t ready to let her go. Slowly, he eased them both down on the bed, cradling her head before he placed it on the pillow as if to shield her from any more impact. But his mind raced with all she had told him.

One thing was certain. It would take longer than a week for her to heal.

Chapter Four

The smell of bacon and pancakes coaxed Shayna’s eyelids open. For a moment she lay there blinking at the sunlight streaming through the pale curtained windows. She’d dreamed of Dante holding her, singing to her with a voice that was too beautiful to be human. It seemed she could still even feel his presence, but when she turned over, the other side of the bed was empty.

She should have been alarmed by the idea of him in her bed, but instead all she had was a sense of comfort. Her stomach rumbled, and she reluctantly rolled out of the blankets and limped forward toward the tantalizing scent of breakfast. A throbbing ache infused her feet with every step, each foot pulsing like a mouth full of infected teeth, but at least this was nothing like the stabbing agony of the night before.

It took an eternity to hobble down the hall, pausing every so often to lean against the wall or an antique end table. Pictures of medieval battles were hung everywhere, making her raise a brow at the choice of décor. But she approved.

She gingerly made her way down the stairs, panting against the banister, and the soothing sound reached her of a woman humming in the kitchen. Was this the housekeeper Dante mentioned?

“You must be Miss Shayna,” a curvy older Latina said, appearing in view while wiping her hands on her apron. “I am Rosa. Please, sit down and rest those feet. Señor Deity says you must eat. He is right. You are much too thin.”

Shayna went and sat at the dining room table with a bitter smile. Her husband had often said she was too fat after she’d given birth, and now she was too thin. It seemed perfection was impossible. Though, to be fair, the bath last night had revealed emaciation from her long walk.

“Where is Dante?” she asked as the housekeeper placed a heaping plate of bacon, eggs and pancakes in front of her. The portion was enough for ten people.

“Señor Deity is shopping,” Rosa said, setting Shayna’s pain medication next to her glass of orange juice. “I tell him I could do it and he tells me no, it is too personal.” The woman sighed and lifted her gaze heavenward. “He needs a wife. Are you married?”

Shayna choked on her pancake. “No,” she croaked, eyes watering. “I just got divorced.”

Or at least she thought she had. Last week, she’d stopped in Eugene and notarized and mailed the papers with the final check in her checkbook included for the filing fees; and her husband shouldn’t have a problem with the paperwork. She had signed everything over to him, except for her personal bank account. She didn’t want anything to do with the house she’d failed to make a home, or even her car. After all, he’d paid for all of that. After mailing the papers, she’d stopped by the library to use the computer and sent Shawn a terse email to notify her when the divorce was finalized.

Thankfully, Rosa didn’t press the issue. The housekeeper remained silent until Shayna managed to eat four pieces of bacon, an egg, and most of one pancake. But when Shayna pushed her plate away, the woman gave a stern frown and said, “You must eat more.”

“I can’t. It was very good, but I’m full.” Shayna uncapped her medicine bottle and took a pain pill.

Rosa sighed melodramatically. “Fine. Then you must get back to bed. Señor Deity says you must rest and stay off your feet for a week.” She looked down at Shayna’s bandaged feet and muttered under her breath, “They look very bad.”

Deity. Now that Rosa had quit bringing up marriage, the odd last name registered, making Shayna blink. There was something familiar about it. She’d heard that name before….

Rosa interrupted Shayna’s train of thought. “You go rest now.”

“He said I could check out the library,” Shayna countered. Her feet were already killing her, along with her hips and back, but she didn’t like the housekeeper’s bossy tone. Just like Rosa’s employer’s! And she’d die of boredom lying in bed all day without a book. Honestly, she also wanted to explore the rest of the house and see if there were any more clues to unlock the mystery of the man who’d saved her. “I’ll rest in there.”

The housekeeper escorted her down the hall and to the library, muttering in Spanish. Shayna knew it couldn’t be complimentary.

“If you need anything, I will be dusting upstairs, but soon I must go grocery shopping.” Rosa crossed her arms under her breasts and gave Shayna a dark look. “If Señor Deity catches you up, he will be upset and I will not be blamed.”

“Of course not,” Shayna replied with a distracted smile, eyeing Dante’s vast book collection.

The man had excellent taste. He had three long shelves dedicated to the classics, a biography section, and a selection of history books that blew away her own library. No romance novels, unfortunately, but that was to be expected.

Shayna grabbed a collection of stories about Camelot, propped up her feet in a comfy chair by the unlit fireplace, and immersed herself in Arthurian tales. They would be good inspiration if she could get back into writing.

Dante was a lot like the chivalrous knights in the stories, Shayna mused. Although he and his friends had rescued her from thugs rather than dragons, he had saved her all the same. But he was still a mystery. She didn’t even know what he did for a living. She had a vague memory of asking him, but she must have fallen asleep before he told her. She’d have to come up with a way to ask him again without sounding like an idiot.

Then again, she’d been evasive to him about her job as well.

When she heard Rosa leave, Shayna decided that now would be a good time to do some exploring. As she set her book aside, the mom voice in her head whispered that maybe she should wait until Dante returned to give her a tour, but she pushed it aside. If she was going to be spending a week with this man, it would be a good idea to make sure he wasn’t hiding any dead bodies.

Besides, the strong new Shayna voice added, how can he give you a tour if he won’t let you walk?

Shayna laughed lightly at that snarky logic. She’d used to think she was crazy for hearing voices—until she found out that many authors did. Then they’d become her friends. She wondered if she’d be able to make use them in the same way again.

She made her way through the library. Her feet throbbed with every step, though the pain had dulled somewhat as the Percocet kicked in.

The semi-cluttered office down the hall didn’t give her any clues—except that Dante might be gay. All of the pictures on the wall were of him and other long-haired guys; no women. Still, she didn’t think he was gay. And there was something about these pictures that nagged at her mind. Something familiar.

She thought of firing up his computer to dig for more clues, but decided that would be going too far. As it was, she shouldn’t even be in his office.

The phone next to the computer monitor made her pause. Hard to believe, but he still had a landline, and for the longest time she stared at the phone as if it were speaking to her in a language she could only partly grasp. Then she understood. There were people she should call, people who were probably worried about her. Her mother, for one. Emma, for another.

Shayna squeezed her eyes shut and forced the thought of talking to her editor out of her mind. She wasn’t ready to face that situation yet. Hell, she wasn’t ready to face talking with her mother either, but she never was, not even on a good day, and it needed to be done. As tumultuous as their relationship was, it would be wrong not to call and say that she was alive. She’d rushed out of the house in Portland so fast she’d forgotten her cell phone. Even odder was that she hadn’t realized it until she woke up in the hospital.

Her mouth screwed up, and she reached for the phone like a child anticipating a dose of foul medicine. With shaking fingers she dialed the Montana area code, hoping Dante had a good long distance plan. Dread washed over her, but she pushed the remaining numbers. Like taking nasty cough syrup, it would be best to get the conversation over with. Maybe she’d even get lucky and get the answering machine.

“Hello?” Janet Gray answered on the second ring. Her voice was cautious, and Shayna pictured her mother frowning at the unfamiliar number on her caller ID.

“Hi, Mom.” Shayna’s voice quavered.

“It’s about time you decided to give me a call.” Her mother’s displeasure was not lost over the long miles, though Shayna wasn’t that far off, in terms of days, from her monthly call. “Shawn told me you left him, but he didn’t tell me anything more. So here I’ve been, worried sick that my daughter’s lying dead somewhere in a ditch! Where are you? What happened?”

That voice was even more grating than the similar one in Shayna’s head. Shayna closed her eyes and forced herself to calmly explain.

“Shawn was having an affair, so I left. He was the one who brought up divorce. I just beat him to it.” She omitted mention of her insane long walk, knowing that would open a Pandora’s Box of recriminations. “I’m staying with a friend until I figure out what to do.”

A friend, though. Could Dante really become her friend? Did Shayna even remember how to make friends?

Her mother favored her with a longsuffering sigh. “Did you even try to work things out? And why didn’t you come to me?”

Shayna heard her mother take a deep breath, preparing for a laundry list of scoldings and bitter pseudo-wisdoms to slap down any explanation she could provide, and she cut in before the rant could begin. “I need to handle this alone for now. And I better go. I don’t want to ring up my friend’s long distance bill.”

“Who are—?”

“Bye, Mom. I love you, and I’ll call you soon.”

Shayna hung up the phone, heaving a sigh. The conversation had gone better than she’d hoped, actually, though maybe that was because she’d kept it mercifully short. Or perhaps Janet’s usual immediate rain of judgment and cynicism had been tempered by genuine relief that Shayna was okay. Of course, she’d known exactly what her mom was about to ask.

Who are you staying with?

If she knew her daughter was staying with a stranger, and a man at that, Janet would have gone nuclear. No matter the fact that Shayna was a grown woman.

Shayna’s shoulders sagged, and a wave of exhaustion threatened to drown her. Talks with Mom were always tiring, but after her ordeal, this one, despite being way shorter and slightly more civil than usual, had been exhausting.

Her eyes strayed to a picture of Dante on the wall. He seemed to be smiling at her, giving her strength. Memories of him carrying her and bandaging her feet, and of her dream of him holding her and singing washed over her like a healing balm.

“Who are you really?” she whispered to the photograph, and the spicy tingle of curiosity in her soul returned with magnified intensity. Thoughts of her mother wisped away, and she renewed her exploring.

Snooping, you mean, a sarcastic voice intruded, but Shayna brushed it away.

She left the office and passed a sliding glass door that led out to a pool and hot tub, and the shimmering water made her muscles cry out in longing. A swim would feel so good. She wished she’d packed a bathing suit. Then again, chlorine would probably sting her feet, so Shayna gave the pool a last rueful look and continued exploring.

Her feet protested the abuse, but her curiosity was rampant. And she learned much. Not only did Dante have a pool, he also had a mini movie theater, a room dedicated to listening to music, with everything from records to CDs to an iPod, and a little private bar area with a pool table. But it wasn’t the gleaming hand-carved bar or impressive collection of top-shelf vintages that made her eyes nearly burst out of her skull. It was the wall decorations. There were framed records all over the place, and they weren’t vinyl. Gold, silver, and platinum shone brightly along the room’s dark wood walls.

Shayna walked closer, her heart in her throat. Every album bore the same name: Deity.

Señor Deity. Dante Deity. That was where she’d heard the name, and it was why that song outside the concert had sounded so familiar.

The breath whooshed out of her body. This was why she’d met him outside of the concert. This was why he’d been dressed in leather and chains. Dante Deity was a rock star. And if his mansion and the awards on the wall were any indicator, he was a big one. She’d probably heard his stuff before she married Shawn, who always had the radio tuned to country.

Dante’s voice behind her made her heart stop.

“What are you doing? I’ve been looking all over for you. You’re supposed to be resting.”

Shayna whipped around and met his accusing stare with one of her own, hoping he didn’t see her knees shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me you were famous?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why? So you can freak out and act all scared—like you are now?” He frowned and shifted his grip on the many shopping bags he carried. “Besides, I did tell you, but you fell asleep.”

“But…but…,” she stammered, overwhelmed with this new revelation.

“But nothing.” He raised a hand to ward off her protests. “Since it’s still a little early for a drink, why don’t we go to the living room and look at the clothes I bought for you?”

Shayna gaped. “You bought me clothes?”

He nodded. “All your old stuff was worn out. Don’t worry, I wrote down all the sizes before I threw them away… Well, except for your shoes. Those got left on the bus. And since they were all bloody, ruined and didn’t smell good, I’m sure they were thrown out. So I bought three different sizes of shoes and slippers. I also got some other things you might need.”

“You went into my backpack?” She couldn’t keep the outrage from her voice at the thought of him, a famous rock star, going through her stuff. Seeing what she’d taken from her broken home. Handling her dirty underwear.

Another realization punched her in the gut. “You didn’t throw out the blanket, did you?”

“No!” he said so vehemently that she stepped back. His eyes blazed with countless emotions. For a second he even looked sad. Then his shoulders slumped and his voice softened. “I mean, it wasn’t full of holes like your clothes, so I washed it for you. And…” He broke off and shook his head. “As for my searching your backpack, you passed out in my arms outside the concert arena,” he reminded her.

Moving close, he tucked her arm over his shoulder and helped her down the hall, easing her onto the couch with aching gentleness. When he was done he asked, “How the hell else was I supposed to find out who you were?”

Mind still spinning, more from the sensation of his arm around her than anything else, Shayna forgot to bother with a response as he pulled out the clothes he’d bought and laid them on the enormous couch.

“Oh my God, that’s a gorgeous top!” A thrill of warmth spiraled in her heart at his kindness.

“Yeah, well, I can’t take credit for that,” he said with an almost shy smile. “I told the ladies working there that you’d lost everything in a fire. They practically jumped over themselves to help you, and then picked everything out.”

“Why’d you tell them that?” Her cheeks grew warm as she found a blue lacy bra.

Dante smiled. “Because I don’t think they would have believed the truth.”

Shayna conceded with a nod and went back to examining the clothes. He had bought her everything: socks, underwear, shirts, jeans, pajamas, even a swimsuit. It seemed she’d get to enjoy the pool after all. There was also a deep blue dress that was too fancy to wear anywhere. Still, that didn’t stop her from caressing the impossibly smooth fabric and longing to try it on.

The other bag contained a razor, lotions, moisturizers, makeup, and even tampons.

“This is a lot for only a week,” Shayna said, unable to hide her worry. She knew she had enough in her account to pay him back for her medical expenses, especially if the insurance covered most, but this was several hundred dollars’ worth of stuff.

“About that.” Dante cleared his throat and gave her the full force of his gaze. “I think you should stay here longer.”

His serious tone unnerved her in a way she couldn’t explain. “Why?”

“I know about the baby, Shayna.” His pewter eyes were firm and unyielding. “And I know about your husband and his affair.”

Alternate hot and cold flashes assaulted her body. “How?” she whispered, hoping she wouldn’t pass out or throw up.

“You had a nightmare. I woke you up and you told me.” Dante shook his head. “I’ve never heard anyone scream like that. I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been through.”

His gentle tone made her throat prickle with threatening tears. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“You’re going to have to talk to someone eventually.” His gaze hardened. “And until you’re better, physically and emotionally, you’re staying here. I insist.”

The vast walls of the mansion closed in on her. “I’m fine,” Shayna lied.

“You walked over a thousand miles and messed up your feet so badly you can barely stand.” Dante crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “You are not fine.”

“Why are you doing this?” Shayna cried, confused. “Why do you want me to stay with you? I mean, don’t you have more important things to do, albums to record?” Why would someone as big as you care about someone as small as me?

“I’m finished touring until next spring, so I need something to do right now.” His tone softened. “Also, I’m doing this because I care—and because I like to help people,” he said. She could tell he was sincere.

“You called me a project last night,” she pointed out, unable to help a note of accusation. Just because he was a rock god didn’t make her any less of a person, or any less in control of her own life. She was tired of being treated like she didn’t have any say.

He shrugged. “So what if you are? Everybody is at one point or another. Even me.”

His blasé attitude was infuriating. She forced a note of challenge in her tone, but it wavered. “Well, what if I leave? You can’t stop me.”

“No, I can’t,” Dante agreed calmly. “But I really hope you will stay and let me help. Either way, I won’t try to force you. But I know you should stay.”

Shayna sighed. He was the bossiest, most autocratic man she’d ever met. Still, Dante was right in that she didn’t have anywhere else to go and could barely walk.

“Fine, I’ll stay for now. And I do appreciate your help.” She managed a smile and changed the subject. “You said I could use your computer, didn’t you? Can I see if my divorce has gone through?”

“Of course.”

When he grinned, she rolled her eyes. Of course he would smile and be gracious. He’d won.

Chapter Five

Dante helped Shayna log on to his computer but stuck around to peek at her email. He knew it was rude, but his curiosity was impossible to resist.

“Do you have to hover over my shoulder like that?”

She turned away from the computer screen to give him an exasperated look, but Dante ignored her and read her jackass husband’s reply:

If this is some kind of pity game, I’m not playing. I’m taking the house and everything else I paid for. Keep your little bank account. I filed the papers already and attached the divorce decree, so you can’t change your mind. I’ll send you the finalized papers when they come.

P.S. I would appreciate it if you did not keep my last name.

“What an asshole.” Dante was surprised at his fury. He wanted to fly up to Portland and kick the shit out of the sanctimonious son of a bitch. “Am I reading this right, Shayna? Did you really sign everything over to him?”

“I sure did,” she said, lifting her chin in what she probably hoped was a formidable manner. Really, it was just cute. Especially since he’d given her polka-dotted Band-Aids.

Shayna continued. “As he said, he paid for everything and I want nothing to do with it. Besides, my bank account isn’t so little, and if he’d been paying any attention to me instead of sleeping around he’d know it. As soon as you take me to the bank, I can pay you back for all you’ve done.”

Dante closed his eyes and struggled to gather his patience. God, this woman needed a keeper. First she turned down the chance at alimony, and now she was trying to throw away part of her nest egg on him?

“Shayna, I won’t let you pay me back,” he said in the most level voice possible.

Her eyes narrowed. “But I want to do things for myself for once.”

“If you continue to argue with me, I’ll buy you a sapphire necklace to go with your new dress.”

Her horrified look made him chuckle. In his world of greedy, entitled celebrities, she was a true novelty. No, more than a novelty. She was a miracle.

Shayna gave him a mutinous glare. “You are really weird, you know that?” she said. Then she turned and replied to her ex-husband.

Thank you for taking care of the final paperwork. I hope you and your beverage vendor find more happiness than we had, she typed eloquently.

“You stupid jerk-off,” Dante added.

“I’m not going to say that!” But Shayna giggled, sending a tremor of warmth down his spine. “At least not out loud.”

Her smile enchanted him. It made her look ethereal and fey all at once. Once more, lust welled up within Dante.

He shook it off and looked at her long list of emails. It seemed housewives like her spent a lot of time online. No doubt she’d been lonely, and the next one she opened piqued his interest a little: Hi, Shayna, I know that you must still be grieving, but it’s been so long since I’ve heard from you. Are you okay? Best, Emma.

“Looks like this one was worried about you,” he commented, curiosity building about her past. “Why didn’t you go to her when—?”

“Because she’s all the way in New York, for one thing,” Shayna cut him off. “For another, I’ve only met her in person once, so that would be awkward. Seriously, can you please let me have some privacy?”

No doubt her husband’s cold response had cut her deeply. There was something off in her tone, aside from her annoyance with his intrusion on her correspondence, which of course he really shouldn’t have done. A surge of guilt washed over him. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you alone for now and see what Rosa’s making for dinner.”

Leaving her side was almost a mistake. The second he entered the kitchen, Rosa treated him to one of her signature scoldings.

“She is much too skinny,” the housekeeper began, as if it were his fault. “And she would not rest like I told her. She said you told her she could read in the library.”

That wasn’t exactly what he’d said, but Dante knew if he told Rosa that she would mother Shayna even worse. The housekeeper might be the best he’d ever had, but damn, she could be a busybody—which was probably why she got along so well with him. They had that in common. But that didn’t mean they needed to double-team their guest.

“I want Shayna to be comfortable here, Rosa,” he said carefully. “And I will make sure that she eats a big dinner.”

“What am I to do?” the housekeeper continued. “You leave me alone with this injured woman, with only a note telling about her…and a large grocery list.”

“And a large bonus check to cover the inconvenience,” he reminded her.

“Si,” Rosa said with a smile and returned to the stove. It smelled like her enchiladas. She couldn’t be too upset if she was making one of her best dishes.

But then she moved on to a new topic. “She says she is divorced. Do you know why?”

“Her husband is a stupid, philandering jackass.”

He regretted the words the minute they left his mouth, for Rosa’s broad grin made him cringe almost as much as her words. “You need a new wife, Señor Deity. Just because your last one did not appreciate you, doesn’t mean you should give up. You do not philander. You have not had a woman here since your wife left. And Senorita Shayna is very pretty. Maybe—”

“She is a project, Rosa,” Dante cut her off. “She will leave when she is well…although that will be longer than a week.”

The housekeeper chuckled as he left the kitchen, and he fought off the ridiculous notion that he was fleeing her.

As he passed his office again, he heard the rapid clicking of computer keys as Shayna answered her emails. Damn, that woman could type fast. He wondered if she’d picked up any other skills while being a housewife.

Maybe he could hire her to answer his fan mail, or be something of a secretary.

Dante immediately rejected that idea with a frown. No, her aura of innocence made him want to keep her away from the music business.

Still, his mind spun, and his nerves jumped for something to do. Besides meetings with the record company and a few interviews, there was nothing to occupy him for the next few weeks until his band joined him for work on the new album. This ennui always drove him mad. He was the kind of person who needed to be doing something all the time—which was probably why his marriage had failed, Dante reminded himself with a sneer in Rosa’s direction. Then he wandered upstairs. A wife was the last thing he needed.

Shayna’s bedroom door hung open, and the sight of the shopping bags strewn across her bed assaulted Dante’s sense of organization. He just couldn’t stand it when everything wasn’t in its place. The irony made him shake his head with a rueful smile: Last night he’d worried that Shayna was a clean freak. Then again, it wouldn’t be good for her to be on her feet so long to sort through all this stuff…

For the next few minutes he occupied himself putting the items away. When he got to the underwear, he shook his head and remembered standing in the intimate apparel section of the department store, stupefied at the selection. If he got her thongs, would she think he was lusting after her? If he got “granny panties,” would she be repulsed? Thankfully, the sales girl had saved him from his ignorance. And he was quite proud of his fire story!

Once everything was put away, he went downstairs and warned Shayna that it was almost time for dinner, holding back a laugh as he watched how fast she signed off. She was clearly hungry.

“I need to shower and change into my new clothes,” she said quickly. “Then I’ll be right down.”

“You took a bath yesterday,” he pointed out. “You need to stay off your feet. Besides, dinner’s not a formal affair. You don’t need to stand on ceremony. Especially since I’ve already seen you in what you’re wearing now. Really, you look fine.”

Shayna wrinkled her nose in disgust. “As much as I appreciate you loaning me your clothes—and again, thank you—I look like a little kid playing dress-up.”

Actually, he thought she looked rather adorable.

She blushed and added, “And I’d really like to put on some underwear.”

She wasn’t wearing panties…? The thought was all too enticing.

“Fine,” he said, and his voice came out husky as he imagined her naked in that marble tub. “But please, go easy on yourself.”

His lust died when she got to her feet and shambled out of the office, her face contorted with pain. His fists clenched with resolve. He would make her put her feet up for the rest of the evening no matter what she said.

She made it back downstairs right as Rosa set dinner on the table.

“That smells heavenly,” she said, making Rosa beam.

Despite her pronouncement, Shayna then picked at the food, darting nervous glances at him between bites. Dante was finally forced to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you mad at me for throwing away your old clothes, or hovering over you when you were checking your emails? Or are you still hung up over my celebrity status?” He frowned, suddenly worried that it was the latter. He’d so enjoyed her talking to him like he was a regular person.

To his dismay, she nodded. “A little. I’m not used to being waited upon, though Rosa is wonderful. I always did the cooking and cleaning.”

“Well, lots of people have housekeepers,” he pointed out. “And you shouldn’t be nervous around me. You don’t exactly look like you listen to heavy metal music. Hell, you didn’t even recognize me!”

Her eyes narrowed. “I recognized your voice outside of the concert last night. And I did listen to metal in high school. The only reason I stopped was because my husband didn’t like it.”

“Did you always go with his whims?” Dante asked, unable to stop himself. The more he learned about her marriage, the more his stomach churned with disgust at her jerk husband—and the more he longed to comfort her.

“I was trying to be a good wife. Besides,” she added defensively, “I listened to what I wanted when he wasn’t home, including some metal stations.”

For some reason the thought of her listening to his music made a warm tremor rush up Dante’s spine. He shook off the odd sensation and changed the subject.

“Your new clothes seem to fit.” It was a lame attempt at a new topic, but it was the best he could do at the moment. At least she didn’t seem so nervous anymore.

“They do. Thank you again.”

Her cheeks pinkened and Dante couldn’t help admiring how much better she looked after a night’s rest and new clothes. More than just better, he thought, studying her shoulder-length dark brown hair, elfin features, and the way her blue knit top clung to her breasts. A tremor of alarm crept up his spine at the growing warmth in his stomach. He would have to be careful. It really wouldn’t do to be too attracted when he was supposed to be helping her, as that would only complicate the project. And this was definitely a project.

Dante tore his gaze from her and forced his attention back to his meal. They both finished eating, and Rosa cleared their plates, firmly refusing Shayna’s offer to help clean up. Then Dante guided her into the living room and put on a movie after she took her pain medication.

He suggested Monty Python and the Holy Grail, since she’d said they both enjoyed all things medieval. He wanted to see her laugh, and he was well-rewarded as the movie played. He was reminded again of how young she was, that she had never seen it. Still, sharing the movie with her was a wonderful experience.

When the credits rolled, she was clearly ready for bed. He fought back unreasonable disappointment that she didn’t need him to carry her. Really, his back muscles should be sighing in relief, but his arms…well, they ached to hold her again.

Chapter Six

The next morning, Shayna fought back disappointment that she hadn’t dreamed of Dante singing to her again. Now that she knew he really was a singer, a small part of her wondered if it hadn’t been a dream after all. Then again, he didn’t look like the lullaby type. But he had been there and…

She supposed she’d never know, since she was too shy to ask.

“I have a meeting with my producer about the timeline of our next album and a bunch of marketing crap,” he announced after breakfast. “The damn thing will probably last several hours. Feel free to use my computer if you get bored.”

Dante gave her a long, unreadable look, and Shayna tried to interpret. Did he not want to leave her? Why not?

She supposed it didn’t matter. The second he left the house, Shayna limped to his office and turned on the computer, opening her email. She’d been dreading Emma’s reply to her own, and hoped her editor wasn’t mad at her.

She opened the email and sighed with relief at the understanding response:

Hey, Shayna. I’m simply glad to hear you’re okay. Just get better. Though, I hope you can get a pitch to me in two weeks and a hopeful manuscript turn-in by October. Regards, Emma.

Manuscript turn-in. The words used to fill her with excitement of rising to the challenge, but now they settled in her stomach like a lump of lead. October, though. She still had three months. But three months didn’t seem like very long when she hadn’t done anything since Shawn Jr. died except huddle in a ball of misery. And now, here she was in the home of a famous rock star, unable to think of anything but him! His kindness, his infuriating bossiness, his pulse-raising smile… The tantalizing glimpses of his abs when he’d yawned and stretched after that movie.

With a guilty frown, Shayna closed Emma’s email. She hadn’t exactly been honest with Dante about how far her liking to write went. But she didn’t dare tell him. Her mother’s, husband’s, and even her family doctor’s scorn had stung. If Dante mocked her for being the ultimate cliché, a housewife who wrote romance novels, she’d be mortified.

Okay, that wasn’t the complete truth. She also didn’t know if she was a writer anymore. Emma wanted a pitch? Shayna had nothing. Her well of creativity had completely dried up.

Instead of opening a Word program like a good writer, Shayna clicked off her email and Googled Dante Deity, unable to help her rampant curiosity. A blinding multitude of articles for her rock-star savior, interviews, and music videos popped up, and for the next few hours she studied him, growing more fascinated by the minute.

No wonder his voice was so familiar. His first band had been called Hurricane, and when the band broke up he joined Holy Wars. She’d listened to them constantly back in high school. About ten years ago, Dante started his solo career as simply Deity.

Shayna watched some music videos she found and was blown away by the power of his voice—and by how many of his songs she recognized. Dante wasn’t just famous. He was an icon. But it was the interviews that really caught her fascination. She didn’t know if it was his politeness and intense honesty with the interviewers, the cute way he fidgeted in his seat as if he was shy, or the appearance of that damn smile. Even on a computer screen, he made her belly flutter. And his performances held so much raw power that her pulse sped just watching him. She found herself wishing he performed topless like many other rock stars, wondering what those muscles she’d felt beneath his leather looked like.

She also read that he had a reputation for being an overbearing perfectionist, and could be hard to work with, as he was something of a dictator. A dry laugh escaped her lips. “At least it’s not personal,” she muttered.

Then Shayna saw something that made her go cold.

ROCKER DEITY AND COLLETTE DIVORCE SCANDAL.

Dante had been married? And not just married to anyone. Collette was a pop megastar. Shawn even listened to her once in a while, commenting on her “smoking hot body” every time one of her music videos came on TV. Or at least he had. She had been a big star until she suddenly decided to retreat from the spotlight around a year ago.

Shayna hadn’t even known Collette was married. Had her career ended when she and Dante got divorced? Shayna checked the date of the article. No, that news had been posted two years ago. So they’d been apart for a year before Collette’s disappearance from the public eye. But, had the divorce been the reason? And how did a metal god and a pop star end up married in the first place? Shayna would have thought that, like in the literary world, different genres steered clear of each other.

Unable to stop herself, Shayna dug deeper. Apparently Dante and Collette had met at a celebrity fundraising event three years ago. After a whirlwind courtship, including pairing for a duet that topped the billboard for months, they’d married on some tropical island that Shayna couldn’t pronounce. For the first year of their marriage, they were seen occasionally at charity events and award ceremonies, the latter of which Dante looked increasingly uncomfortable attending. To be honest, Collette’s smiles at the charity balls seemed more and more forced, too. Yet when Shayna backtracked to the article about their divorce, there was no big scandal, contrary to the headline, which must have just served as click-bait. Both parties professed that it was an amicable separation.

Though, Collette married her manager shortly afterward. That had led to speculations that she’d been cheating on Dante all along.

Shayna shook her head. How could anyone cheat on such a luscious man? Even Shawn at his most handsome couldn’t compare to Dante, who looked like sin incarnate.

Unable to help herself, Shayna clicked on a video of the famous pair singing their acclaimed duet from one of Collette’s albums. Shayna froze at the first notes. She’d had this song on her MP3 player. It was one of her favorites to listen to when she was doing housework and plotting book scenes. The longing in their voices—and now, in this video, in their eyes—was unmistakable. It was no wonder they’d gotten married.

Her stomach rolled uncomfortably. Why did this bother her so much? Was it because Shayna wanted everyone to live happily ever after and was sad whenever love didn’t work out? If so, why was it that Collette’s heart-stopping beauty and the way Dante looked at her were what made her feel ill?

Even as she scolded herself for continuing to dig, Shayna clicked link after link. Collette and Dante seemed to have quit associating after their divorce, except for an encounter shortly after she announced her retirement from music. There was a photo of him confronting Collette only last year, pointing at her, and he had the most furious snarl on his face. Shayna shuddered at the sight and prayed she’d never see him that angry. His eyes were like chips of ice.

After some searching, she found a video interview explaining the angry photo.

“I was furious that she could abandon her fans like that.”

Collette’s retirement had pissed Dante off. The anger was unmistakable in his voice, and the interviewer pushed up her glasses. “Collette didn’t tell you why she gave up music when you confronted her?”

“No.”

Dante had been really hurt by his former wife’s defection, Shayna could tell. She was outraged at Collette for causing him pain but also curious about why Collette had quit singing. So she moved the mouse to click the next link, and then the next. She couldn’t find exactly what she wanted.

A little after three o’clock, Rosa brought her a sandwich and chips, scolding her about needing to eat and rest. Shayna waved the housekeeper off and continued to read every scrap of information she could find.

Munching on the provided food, she watched more videos of Dante performing, awed once again by his powerful voice and majestic presence. Then she scrolled over to another interview, preferring the videos where she could see him smile….

“You’ve been Googling me all day?”

Dante’s voice came from behind her, making her drop a potato chip on her lap. Her face flamed as she realized it was now a quarter after four. Oh God, what if he thought she was being creepy and obsessive? Was she being creepy and obsessive?

“I wanted to know more about you!” She hated the defensive tone in her voice. “And it wasn’t ‘all day.’ I also answered some emails.”

His expression softened, making her melt. “Is your ex giving you trouble?”

She shook her head, grateful for the change in subject. “No, he’s probably moving in his girlfriend’s stuff as we speak.”

Dante’s eyes widened. “You don’t seem particularly concerned with that.”

“I’m not,” she said softly as the depth of the realization struck her. “I’m really not.”

His continued look of surprised compelled her to explain. “I think the love died in our marriage before the baby—hell, maybe even before we got married.” Emboldened, she continued. “I’m happy that it ended. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m really happy about it!”

At first it looked like he was going to say something, but then he gave her that sexy smile, making her heart turn over. He said, “Then I think we should have a drink and celebrate. That is, if you drink.”

Whatever he asked, Shayna couldn’t resist that face. “I haven’t taken my pain pill yet, so okay.”

She followed him to the bar and laughed as he bade her to sit down and grabbed two bottles, attempted to juggle them and failed miserably.

“What’re you having?” he asked with artificial solicitousness.

“I haven’t had a drink since before I was pregnant, so I’m probably a lightweight.” She giggled nervously. “I don’t know if I’m up to drinking with a rock star.”

He laughed. “How about a simple glass of wine?”

They settled comfortably on the bar stools, she with a glass of Chardonnay and he with a beer so dark and thick it looked like he could chew on it. Dante told her about his meeting with the record producer, and the satirical picture he painted of the intricate politics involved had her in stitches. Apparently the producer had told him to sound more like the band Viciöus, who were apparently close friends of his. When Dante called the singer to tell them about it, he’d discovered that Viciöus had been told to sound more like Deity.

Dante chuckled and shook his head. “We’re not even the same type of metal.”

Rosa brought them in some delicious roasted chicken, and Shayna accepted a third glass of wine. Dante offered up several hilarious stories of his mishaps, from being unable to find the stage to goof-ups on the music video sets. Shayna almost couldn’t believe them.

“So, what made you decide to become a musician?” she asked.

“I’ve loved to sing ever since I can remember. I was actually in the choir at the church my parents went to.” He gave her a wicked smile upon seeing her shock. “I took quite a turn, wouldn’t you say?”

Thinking of his dark clothing and often macabre lyrics, she nodded. A choirboy turned heavy metal? Who would have thought?

“What led to that turn?”

He stared at her. “A lot of people gravitate towards this music, especially the musicians themselves, because they had a painful childhood. I didn’t—well, except for later on, when my mom had her first bout of cancer.” A cloud of sadness passed over his features. “But I can’t remember a day when heavy metal and rock ’n’ roll didn’t lift my spirits, make me feel more alive. I started out listening to Ritchie Panic. He was really big in the eighties, but to hell with him now.”

Shayna blinked at the sudden flicker of hostility. “Why ‘to hell with him’?”

“He just up and abandoned us all.” Dante said bitterly. “I’d finally gotten tickets to see him—saved up for a year—and my friends and I waited for hours before the venue manager announced that the show was cancelled. Apparently the guy just up and quit that day, deciding he didn’t want to play metal anymore. He took his money and retired to some island in the Florida Keys to drink margaritas and laze around.”

“What if something happened to him?” Shayna asked, thinking of her own reasons for losing her creative spirit.

“I wrote him a letter after I made it big,” Dante said with a frown. “He wrote back that he’d been tired and just wanted to enjoy his money while he was still young. Not even an apology for me and all the rest of those people he let down who’d paid to see him. I get that he has the right to do what he wants, but I still think he’s a selfish asshole. Still, I have a lot to thank him for, I suppose, first for inspiring me to pick up a mic in the first place, and then motivating me to become better than him. I’d been just hooking up with a band, and Panic’s abandonment made me even more determined to become a success—and to never do what he did. We were good enough to get gigs in local clubs when I was sixteen, and the next year we signed our first record contract.”

“Sixteen? Wow.” Shayna couldn’t hide her awe. “Were your parents proud? Or did they disapprove?”

His eyes shone boyish and clear as he smiled. “My parents were great. No matter how much other people in the church complained about the ‘Devil’s music’ that I’d gotten wrapped up in, they were always supportive, even when the touring and recording schedule meant I’d have to drop out of school. They even left the church when their friends wouldn’t lay off. Eventually, the money I brought in from my gigs helped pay for mom’s medical bills, and thankfully her cancer went into remission after a five year battle.”

“So, you saved her life.”

Dante rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks coloring slightly. “I wouldn’t go that far, especially not anymore, but I was thankful that I could at least do something to help. I was afraid my parents would ask me to quit and go back to school after she was better, but they didn’t. They even came to my shows.”

“It’s so wonderful that your mom and dad stood by you and your dream,” Shayna said, thinking of her own mother. Maybe this was why he’d turned out to be so kind and selfless. “So many people have monsters for parents.”

He raised a brow. “Like…?”

“My mother,” she admitted with a shudder. “I barely knew my father.” Then she realized what she was saying, and not wanting to delve deeper into painful memories, she brought the subject back to him. “So, what made you first want to help people?”

People like me, she didn’t add.

He shrugged and refilled their glasses, hers with wine, his with beer. “Part of it was because of how I was raised. My mom always brought me to help her with coat drives and soup kitchens.” A strange look flickered across his face. “And when I first started singing with bands in high school, so many of my bandmates were living in poverty—and sometimes with abusive parents and drug addictions. I just didn’t think it was fair, you know? They were all so talented, and they had so many things holding them back that weren’t their fault. Just like it wasn’t my fault I was born into a stable, well-off family. I always did what I could to help, even if it was just giving them a place to crash in the basement and food. And some of them even made it, like Brand Kife from Viciöus.” Dante took a big swig of his beer. “I guess I’m still the same. And I guess I do it to honor Mom’s memory too.”

“Wait, she passed away?” Shayna’s heart clenched.

Dante nodded. “The cancer came back with a vengeance two years ago.” The clipped sentence belied the agony in his eyes. “This time it was quick, and nothing could be done to make it go away.”

“I’m so sorry,” Shayna said. She meant it, too. She knew all too well what it was like to lose a loved one.

“Thanks. I’m still torn up about it, but at least I have Dad. He comes to visit twice a year and I go see him in New Mexico.” He took another big gulp of beer. “But enough about me, what about you?”

Shayna took a sip of wine to delay. “There’s really not much to say. I…write.” Her gaze focused on the wood grain of the bar, silently pleading for him not to ask her to elaborate. “I don’t have many friends, and I haven’t traveled much. I haven’t worked any fancy jobs, or really many jobs period. I’m newly divorced, as you know.” A helpless laugh broke from her lips. “I’m really kind of boring.” And bound to become even more so if she didn’t get her life and creative spark back together.

Dante eyed her over the rim of his glass. “I highly doubt that. Boring is the last word I’d use to describe you.”

Shayna’s pulse jolted. Did he mean that he found her interesting? Was he just being polite—or was it a joke referencing how she’d come to be here?

As if sensing her anxiety, he allowed the question to drift away, humming to the music and tapping his foot. Finally, he poured their fifth drink, eyes suddenly serious. “What happened to the baby, Shayna?”

The world tilted for a second, and she pushed her glass away. “I don’t want to talk about it. I mean, I…” She shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

He leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. “I’m not a shrink, but I do know that talking things out is the first step to healing.” He softened the statement with a teasing smile. “Besides, since you spent all day ‘studying’ me, I think it’s only fair that I get to know you better.”

Shayna’s resistance crumbled beneath his intense gaze. “Sudden Infant Death Syndrome,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Dante said after a moment.

“I can’t help thinking it was my fault.” Shayna looked away and fiddled with a drink coaster emblazoned with the Deity logo. “I kept forgetting to take my prenatal vitamins, and if I wasn’t so busy working on my next—”

“Stop!” He cut her off, grabbing her shoulders. His eyes had darkened to a stormy gray. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“But—”

“No, we’re done with this topic. I’m sorry I even brought it up.” He gave her a brief squeeze before releasing her, making her oddly dizzy from the contact. “God, Shayna, your husband was a monster for not being there through that.”

Shayna nodded, trying to dispel the burning tears. “He lost interest in me the day my pregnancy began to show. I did some research on it, and I guess it has something to do with the Madonna/Whore complex… Anyway, no, he didn’t care—except to treat me like I was a failure as a wife. Maybe I am. I could never make him happy.”

With a gesture, Dante stopped her again. “Please indulge my curiosity. Although I’m glad to know you’re happy to be free of what sounds like a bastard of a man, what made you marry him in the first place?”

Shayna shrugged and grabbed her wine glass, taking a miniscule sip. “There’s not much to say. I was stupid. My dad walked out on us when I was five, and my mom and I weren’t very well-off, so it made sense to marry as soon as I graduated high school. There’d be one less mouth to feed. That and…” She paused before the shameful admission. “Mom and I don’t get along well. College didn’t seem like a realistic option. I didn’t get very good grades in math, and I wasn’t remarkable enough at anything to get a scholarship.”

She sighed, a string of broken and unfulfilled dreams parading before her eyes. “So when I met Shawn, well, it seemed there was no other choice. He was the first guy who took me on actual dates and didn’t try to get me into bed right away.”

Dante nodded when she glanced up at him, and the compassion in his expression made her heart melt.

“How long was it before you figured out that he was a selfish asshole?”

Shayna laughed bitterly. “That’s the thing. I think I knew from day one. He was always ogling other women on our dates, and he was always controlling. Of course, I was used to that. And it’s probably why he wanted to marry me. Because I was so subservient.” A fresh burst of melancholy washed over her. “I was so stupid. I did everything to please that selfish excuse for a man.”

“No, you weren’t stupid,” Dante said, taking another swallow of beer. “You’re human. We all do stupid things. I know I have.”

“Like what?” Shayna asked.

He raised a brow. “I wasn’t there for my wife, either. I know you probably read all about that.”

Her eyes widened at his mention of his ex, and also from shock at the sharp stab of envy in her chest. Shayna knew the alcohol had loosened his tongue, and even though it was wrong, she couldn’t help taking advantage. “What happened?”

Dante sighed and ran a hand through his dark curls. “It was mostly my fault. Although we were both so busy with our careers and tours with our respective bands, I neglected her on the rare occasions when we were home together. So it really was no surprise when she left me for her manager, who, she informed me, had been there for her more than I had.”

“Do you miss her?” Shayna asked softly. Part of her dreaded his response.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, guzzling down the rest of his beer. “But as I said before, it was never meant to be. I still care for her as a friend, but…” He shrugged. “After the initial lust faded, we didn’t really have much in common. So I guess all I miss is the company.”

“The company?” Shayna cringed as the words left her mouth. “But don’t you get lots of offers from women backstage?”

Why’d she say that?

Dante shook his head. “I don’t do that. I want a deeper connection, but I don’t have the time because of my work. Or maybe it’s the energy. I’ve tried dating before, but I get itchy if I stay in the same place too long and the women want more attention from me. It’s a catch-22, and the work is more important, so…”

For some reason, the news that he didn’t sleep around made her tremble with desire. Shayna could no longer deny it. She was attracted to this man. Wholly. Heatedly. Unstoppably.

She glanced at him and was struck dumb by the sudden flare in his gaze. His eyes, now a deep dark blue, raked up and down her body, lingering at the modest display of cleavage revealed above her lavender top. When he spoke, his voice was low and husky, promising sinful delights.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Shayna, you know that?”

She blushed. “Th-thank you.”

The world seemed to halt. He leaned forward. Shayna’s lips parted.

Abruptly, he pulled away, shaking his head. “As I said, it’s been a long time. Go to bed, Shayna, while I can still behave myself.”

“But…,” she whispered, not knowing what to say, only aching with longing. “It’s not even eight.”

“Go!” he said firmly. “You need to rest, and I need to sober up. I haven’t drank like this in awhile.”

Despite her body’s protests, Shayna obeyed. It wouldn’t be good for him to kiss her because he was drunk.

Damn him for being such a gentleman.

***

Dante waited a few minutes until he was certain Shayna was safe in her room before he went up to his own. It took a cold shower to get rid of his erection, but the damn thing returned as soon as he got into bed and grabbed a book off the nightstand. Had he somehow turned into a mindless adolescent?

He reached down to take care of it but stopped as a vision of his houseguest flashed through his imagination. The thought of masturbating with Shayna sleeping peacefully in the next room made him feel sordid, even more so because she would be the star of his fantasy.

He’d seen she was interested, but seducing her, which no doubt would be easy in her vulnerable state, would not be helping her. No, having sex with her, as tempting as it was, would not be a good idea. But that didn’t stop him from having the most erotic dreams of his life. They were so real he could almost still smell the perfume of Shayna’s arousal and hear her soft moans of pleasure when he awoke.

Chapter Seven

Two weeks later, Shayna was half amazed she still resided with Dante. But only half. This was the life.

She floated in his pool, luxuriating in the feel of the cool water against her skin. After days of resting and reading, her feet felt almost good as new. Too bad her emotions were still raw and jumbled. While nothing else had happened, she couldn’t stop remembering her second night here, when Dante had almost kissed her. She had lain awake all that night, his words playing over and over again in her head.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Shayna, you know that?”

Then he’d left. And while the exquisitely sensual dreams she’d had that night were worthy of one of her romance novels, the following morning he regarded her over the breakfast table with squinting, bloodshot eyes.

“I didn’t do anything last night that I need to apologize for, did I?”

“No,” she’d answered, but her inner voice had whispered, Yes! You didn’t kiss me!

“Good,” he’d replied with a look of profound relief on his face. And then he’d returned to being the perfect gentleman caretaker. “How are your feet?”

He had insisted on changing her bandages for the first week, until she no longer needed them. To be honest, she enjoyed his touch more than was healthy. She couldn’t tell which she liked more, his soft touch soothing her wounds or the gentle strength and feel of his warm hard body as he helped her up the stairs—or caught her when she had a dizzy spell. And she couldn’t get the fantasy of his sculpted lips on hers out of her mind.

True, he was a little bossy, especially with his stubborn insistence that she eat as much as she could at every meal, or ordering her to go rest if she so much as yawned, but at least last week he’d asked nicely instead of commanding that she extend her stay a little longer. He’d ultimately been an utter angel to her, providing her with a healing haven. He’d gotten her a notebook to write in, books, and even a phone—a fancy Android that he’d tacked on to his own plan. She’d almost broken down and told him that her kind of writing required her own computer, but she’d clammed up at the last second. For some reason she still didn’t want him to know that she wrote romances. Maybe because she never would again.

While Dante worked on his songwriting in his studio, Shayna binge-watched movies on Netflix on the huge TV he’d set up in her room. Every once in a while, she cast a nervous glance at the notebook, as sometimes writing freehand helped her when she was stuck, but instead of grabbing a pen, she always went back to a movie. Or her thoughts went to her rescuer.

Despite all the comforts Dante provided, she found herself craving his company most of all. She found herself counting down the hours until he came back upstairs and ate dinner with her, and then sometimes they’d have a few drinks in the bar while he talked about his songwriting process. His presence was so amicable that it was hard to believe he was a famous heavy metal rock star. He wasn’t arrogant or wild like the usual stereotype. He didn’t seem to do drugs or throw wild parties. However, he was sexy as hell. And his voice… Oh God, his voice. She’d downloaded all of his albums on her new phone and listened to them whenever he was away.

Dante’s music stirred something within her, and she wondered if it included her creativity. Her eyes strayed more and more to the notebook as she listened. If she picked it up, could she get something down? Just one paragraph, one of her voices often prodded. Hell, even a sentence!

She’d reached for it once. Stared at the immaculate lined paper for an eternity. Then she’d thrown it on the floor and hobbled downstairs to get a snack.

At least she’d finally mustered her courage and updated her author pages on social media, giving a brief explanation of her divorce and that she was staying with a friend, recovering. The revelations made sense, as she’d been rather honest with her readers from the outset, not thinking to create a lot of personal space for herself. But the subsequent questions and demands from them filled her with impotent frustration, so this morning she’d set her phone aside and headed out to the pool. She’d had no idea so many of them would care so much. She wasn’t even a big name! Regardless, she didn’t know what to say to them.

Shayna dove off her inflatable raft. She loved swimming: Gliding through the water with no need for a destination, or floating weightless on her back, looking up at the clouds, cleared her mind and relaxed her battered muscles.

The sliding-glass door opened, and she heard Dante come outside, done for the day from working on lyrics. “I’m sick of eating at home. What do you say we go out to Sal’s for some Italian? You can wear that blue dress I bought you.”

Water closed over her head. She came up spluttering. “Okay,” she managed.

He was taking her out to dinner…in public? Sure, it wasn’t a date, but it would look like one, and on some crazy level of her subconscious it would feel like one too.

“Great!” he said, oblivious to her spinning mind. Sunlight glinted on his hair. “We’ll go in an hour. I hope you’re hungry. Their pasta is incredible.”

After Dante went back inside, Shayna clambered out of the pool as if it were boiling. She suddenly felt as if she were back in high school—only, in her case, the popular guy had never asked her out.

Dante hadn’t given any indication that he thought of her in that way since the night he got drunk and almost kissed her. Now he was taking her on a date?

No. It wasn’t really a date. They were just getting pasta.

Briskly she toweled off and walked inside as fast as her tender feet would allow; they were still a little sore, although the blisters were almost completely vanished. She showered in record time and changed into the blue dress, grateful for the low-heeled shoes with cushioned gel inserts. Dante had thought of everything.

Wanting to do him justice, she lingered on her makeup, struggling to get the eye shadow and lipstick just right.

Afterward, she surveyed her reflection, pleasantly surprised. Her long walk had definitely taken all of her baby weight, but her full meals at Dante’s house had filled her back out a little, leaving her looking svelte—or maybe it was just the dress? She shook her head in wonder. The dress was a gift from God. It somehow made her breasts look much larger than her modest B-cup, and her legs seemed to go on forever, which was an impossible feat for a woman of her height.

It was too bad she couldn’t do anything with her hair, since Dante had neglected to get any pins or clips. Still, it had grown out since Shawn first suggested she cut it short. Now it swept down her shoulders in a, dare she say, flirty manner? The only thing missing was a purse, so she stuck her ID and debit cards in her bra, not wanting to shove her whole wallet in there.

Dante knocked on the door. “Are you ready yet? I’m starving.”

“Just a minute!” she called, seizing the bottle of perfume the ladies at the department store had chosen, praying it didn’t smell awful. A cautious sniff revealed a subtle honeysuckle scent that was to die for. She hadn’t smelled honeysuckle since her childhood in Montana. Those sales girls deserved a raise.

When she opened the door, Dante stood there with the most gratifying stunned look on his face. Shayna forced a small smile to hold back the triumphant grin that longed to come out, until she noticed how gorgeous and elegant he himself looked in his navy dinner jacket. Then she was just as stunned. Had a more beautiful man ever walked the earth?

“Wow,” he said softly. “Maybe I should have called my bodyguards.”

Shayna giggled at his words until the reality sank in. “Wait, the paparazzi aren’t going to be there, are they?”

Dante laughed. “Probably not. They usually stick to the rappers and pop stars and leave us metal-heads alone.” He shook his head. “It’s almost a shame, since you look so ready for the red carpet. Well, shall we?”

He held out his arm, and with heated cheeks she took his arm. They descended the stairs. Dante led her out into the garage, and Shayna realized she’d never seen what he drove; she’d always been upstairs when he left for meetings and errands. Instead of the expected sports car or Hummer, it was a Honda Pilot—albeit a luxurious one. At least she’d imagined the color right. It was black, and tinted to the point where it was barely legal.

During the drive, he commented on the metal songs playing on the radio station he’d chosen: “That guy’s good, but he’s an asshole.” “These guys can’t play a tune to save their lives, but they’re good people.” “These guys are going places.” Then, “Hey, it’s one of my old ones!”

He cranked the volume and sang along with his gorgeous voice, and Shayna tried to absorb the surreal experience of being in the company of someone who lived and breathed music. It was incredibly surreal.

There were no paparazzi awaiting when they arrived at the restaurant, but the valet and the server were suitably star-struck enough to make up for it. Dante flashed his devastating smile at everybody, including Shayna.

She hoped her stomach would settle enough for her to eat.

***

“It’s good to be out of the house finally,” Dante said, pretending not to notice Shayna’s nervous trembling. He’d begun his plan to ease her back into the world as she recovered from her grief. Maybe once she was out and about she’d give him more insight about her interests and what she wanted out of life. This simple dinner at a nice restaurant would be a good start.

Or, it would be if she didn’t look so damn beautiful, tempting him to take her back home and to his bedroom. That dress had appeared modest on the rack, but now, molded to her curves, the garment transformed into a vessel of temptation. He cursed inwardly as his eyes strayed back to her cleavage.

He had fought an endless struggle not to think of her sexually since that drunken night. The dreams he’d had were so realistic that he’d actually had to ask her the next morning if anything happened. Now, with her looking so seductive, if he didn’t keep control of himself, something would happen.

“Oh, my God.” She interrupted his thoughts, staring at the menu with wide, nervous eyes. “This place is really expensive.”

Dante hid a smile. “Maybe I should have bought that sapphire necklace,” he teased.

That entrancing blush returned, and she hid her face with the menu. Still, her beauty speared him, and Dante suddenly felt transported back to the days before his career had jaded his romantic life. Although it couldn’t go any further than a good meal in her company, he vowed to enjoy the evening to the fullest.

And it was an enjoyable evening. Shayna closed her eyes in sheer bliss as she ate her clam linguine and nibbled on garlic bread. In between bites of his manicotti, Dante asked her about which books from his library she’d enjoyed, and that quickly turned into a fascinating conversation about the English civil war in the 10th century.

“You seem to know a lot about the subject,” he said. “Maybe you should be a history teacher.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she laughed. “I’m too shy.”

Dante only half heard. A woman from two tables down approached with a familiar fanatical gleam in her eye. Another autograph-seeker. Normally he didn’t mind this sort of thing, but tonight he resented the interruption.

“Oh no,” Dante said, pasting a smile on his face. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“What?” Shayna asked, looking up from her plate.

Before he could explain, the woman descended. Dante retrieved a pen from his pocket, ready to sign an autograph and prayed she’d depart when she got it.

“Excuse me,” the woman said in a breathy, star-struck voice. She looked at Shayna and ignored Dante. “Are you Shayna Gray?”

Dante blinked. What was this? Her driver’s license had said Jones.

Shayna’s eyes widened like a deer in headlights, but she nodded and answered. “I am.”

“Omigod!” the woman squealed. “I’m almost done reading The Duke’s Deception, and I love it! It’s even better than The Duke’s Quest. I just knew Nathaniel would redeem himself!”

“Thanks,” Shayna said with a shy smile.

“Does Dirk get a story?” the fan gushed. “Because I’d totally like to see him end up with Jenna. And what happens with Aria? Whatever happened with the King’s decree?”

Shayna looked down at her food. Was that shame on her face? “I don’t know yet. I’m, um, still working on that one.”

The fan nodded happily and pulled a book from her purse. “This is so cool! Could you sign this?”

Dante took the book from the woman, eyes wide at the sight of a couple in medieval garb in a passionate embrace—and the name Shayna Gray below the title.

“May I see that a moment?” he asked belatedly as he flipped to the inside of the back cover and saw Shayna’s picture smiling back at him. Reeling in shock, he turned the book over. “A hypnotic journey,” the Chronicle Review declared.

“Sure,” the woman said uncertainly. “Hey, is this your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I am,” Dante replied, handing The Duke’s Deception to Shayna along with his pen. If she was going to tell lies, he could tell a few of his own.

Shayna gasped, and he glared at her in challenge. He continued to glare as she signed the novel. Why hadn’t she told him she was a famous author?

The woman’s eyes widened at the look in his eyes, and she shot him a nervous glance before she took her book and fled back to her table. Dante nodded at the server for the check.

After he paid the bill, Shayna picked at her meal for a few more minutes before she murmured, “I’m ready to go now, if you don’t mind.”

Still seething, Dante said coldly, “Fine with me.”

The Duke’s Deception. What about her deception? She’d said she was just a housewife. All this time he’d been wondering how he could help her find something to do and she already had a career. He’d opened up to her the other night, told her things about himself that he hadn’t told anyone. Why had she kept such a huge secret from him?

He stood up and threw his jacket over his shoulder, doubly annoyed. His frustration didn’t stop her beauty or the curves beneath her dress from making him ache.

Chapter Eight

Shayna sat ramrod straight in the passenger seat of the Pilot. She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking, or herself from darting nervous glances at Dante. He looked furious. His white-knuckled fingers clenched the steering wheel so hard it was surprising it didn’t crack. And he hadn’t bothered to turn on the radio.

What could he be mad about? Her husband never cared about her hobby. Why would Dante be pissed that she wrote romance novels? Was it just because she hadn’t told him she was published? He hadn’t even asked what she wrote, and she didn’t want to tell him because she didn’t want to see that same look of disgust Shawn and every other man—and even some women, including her mother—got when they heard what she wrote. Even now, she figured he just would have laughed.

Well, it was coming. Dante looked like he’d explain the reasoning behind his anger in precise detail when they got home, so Shayna settled back in her seat with mingled dread and anticipation to get it over with.

Her eyes widened in surprise as he made the next turn. Instead of heading straight to his house, Dante pulled into a bookstore. After they parked, he got out and opened her door before she had her seatbelt unfastened.

“What are we doing here?” she asked cautiously.

“What does it look like, Shayna Gray? We’re here to buy some books.”

He didn’t give her a chance to reply before he was off, crossing the parking lot in ground-devouring strides.

Her cheeks burned at his mention of her pen name, and Dante’s intentions suddenly became clear. Dear God, he was going to buy her books! The thought of him reading them, reading her love scenes, made her wish there was a hole nearby she could crawl into.

Though her feet protested, she chased after him and grabbed his arm. “You don’t need any more books,” she argued pathetically. “Your library looks pretty full.”

He continued walking, but at least she got a smile out of him. “I’m always looking to add to my collection.” Sarcasm crept into his tone. “And just think, I should be able to get them signed.”

“Dante…,” she pleaded, though she didn’t know for what.

He stopped and turned to face her, voice low and ominous. “Believe me, I have a lot to say to you, but it’s going to have to wait until we get home.”

She nodded with a shiver before she followed his long strides to the bookstore.

Dante was all warm professionalism by the time they got inside. “Excuse me,” he said to the first salesperson he found. “Could you point me to the romance section?”

Ignoring the woman’s perplexed look, he headed the way she pointed like a man on an important mission. Shayna trailed behind with a sigh. Any other time this would be funny. The salesgirl probably thought he’d lost a bet.

Dante tracked down her books with the efficiency of a bloodhound. Unbelievably, the store had all five books in her mainstream series, though none of her earlier standalones. He seized a copy of each book in her Desperate Dukes series, and turned back to her.

“It’s usually best to only buy the first one or two,” Shayna ventured. “You know, in case you end up not liking the author.”

He raised a brow, and his lips quirked in a half smile despite the lingering glint of anger in his eyes. “I think I’ll like her just fine.”

Shayna opened her mouth to retort, but she stopped as a prominently displayed book by one of her favorite authors caught her eye. “Oh my God, I’ve been waiting forever for that one to come out!” She grabbed it and eagerly read the back cover.

Dante frowned. “What are you doing?”

The imp within took over at his annoyance, an imp she hadn’t released for years. If he was going to mess with her head, she could play the same game.

“I’m buying some books,” she replied, browsing for more of her favorite authors. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Come to think of it, you really do need to add to your romance collection. It is quite lacking.”

He seemed unable to form a reply. Served him right.

She browsed longer, accumulating a large stack as he stood there, holding her books and tapping his foot.

When they got in line, she pulled her bank card from her bodice and gestured. “You go ahead, sir,” she said, remembering when he’d asked her not to call him that.

The look of startled annoyance on his face nearly made her drop her books, but it was worth it. He’d been confusing the hell out of her, and if yanking his chain was her only means of retaliation, so be it.

The woman at the counter gave Dante an odd look as she rang up the novels. But then she frowned, picking up The Duke’s Quest. She glanced at the author photo next to the bar code and then looked at Shayna, giving her a double take. Then a knowing smile spread across her features.

She looked at Dante and nodded at his purchases. “You didn’t believe her, did you?”

He gave the woman his most charming smile. She visibly melted, making Shayna grit her teeth in irritation.

“No, I didn’t.”

The clerk laughed and handed him his receipt before turning to Shayna. “I haven’t read yours before, but now I have to. Our manager raves.”

Shayna stepped forward, and the woman exclaimed over every book she’d selected. “I love her! Do you know each other? What about this one? Is she any good?” Then, after the debit card was run, the clerk asked for an autograph. “Maybe you can do a signing here.”

Dante grabbed their bags and interrupted the conversation, giving Shayna an odd smile. “We’ll see if we can arrange that.”

The cashier grabbed a card from beside the register. “Here’s the store manager’s contact information. She’d love it if you called.”

Before Shayna could respond, Dante led her out of the store. Another awkward silence ensued until they arrived back home.

Dante headed straight to the bar and poured himself a beer. “Do you want some wine?”

Shayna nodded. Maybe a glass or two would settle her nerves. Or three.

He served her then sat down, piling the books on the bar. “You’re a romance author,” he said, running his finger along the cover of The Duke’s Deception.

“Yeah,” she replied, mind swimming with confusion. He acted mad at her, yet he didn’t say romance author with the same tone of scorn and disgust that so many other men had. “Why are you so upset about that?”

His eyes blazed. “Why did you lie to me about it?”

Shayna blinked. “I didn’t lie.”

“You told me you were a housewife.” His accusing glare didn’t waver.

“I was.” Her voice rose defensively. “And when you asked if I had any hobbies, I told you I wrote.”

Dante gazed at her, thunderstruck. “Hobby?” He picked up one of her books. “You call this a hobby? This says you’re a bestseller!”

Shayna sighed and sipped her wine. “It isn’t what it looks like. I only made the list for one week last year, and I was pretty far down. Number one hundred and forty-two. And my royalties are really modest. Unless they’re the big names you see on the airport racks, most authors don’t make that much. Honestly, I don’t get why you’re so angry about this.”

“I’m not angry.” He sighed. “And I’m sorry I acted like I was. I’m just frustrated because, here I was, thinking you were just a housewife, wondering how I could help you find something…I don’t know, fulfilling to do. And here you already had it and didn’t tell me. And I don’t know why you didn’t. I’ve never taken dishonesty well, even if it’s just by omission.”

“I’m sorry too.” She met his gaze. “I was afraid you’d laugh at me.”

“Laugh at you?” He stared at her, incredulous. “For being an entertainer, like I am? I’m not…” He took a swig of beer. “Never mind.”

Shayna had a feeling she knew what he wanted to say: I’m not your ex-husband. And he was right. He wasn’t anything like Shawn. And Shawn was a big part of the reason she’d been too afraid to talk about her writing. Would the ghost of his malice haunt her forever?

“Did your husband know about your career?” Dante asked suddenly.

“No.” Shayna smirked in remembrance of his scorn when she’d first started writing. “He didn’t care as long as the house was clean and dinner was ready when he came home.”

“Ah,” Dante said with deceptive calm, stroking his chin. “The ‘hobby’ label suddenly comes clear.” His gaze became intent—and inescapable. “He didn’t know how successful you are, did he? Your insistence that you’ll be able to pay me means you’ve been saving your royalties, doesn’t it?”

“He knew I was published,” Shayna said defensively. “He laughed so hard at my first advance check. After two years of rejections, it was pretty pitiful.” A chuckle escaped. “But no, he didn’t know how much my royalties have grown since then, though he would have if he’d bothered to come with me when I met the accountant to do our taxes.” She couldn’t help rolling her eyes at how little Shawn had participated in their joint responsibilities. “I planned on telling him when I was really successful, like when I earned enough to pay for our son’s college. In the meantime, he didn’t ask and I didn’t tell, and that went on for three years.” She took another drink of her wine before confessing, “There were a few times that I flew to conventions and book-signings, but I lied and told him I was visiting my mother.”

The thought suddenly struck her as hilarious. It had been such a ridiculous lie, but effective since Shawn couldn’t stand her mother. She giggled helplessly before another thought intruded, sobering her: “I think I was afraid that if Shawn knew how big my hobby had become, he would make me stop. I couldn’t take that. I loved to write.”

“Loved?” Dante arched a brow. The dangerous glint came back to his eyes.

“I haven’t had any stories in my head since my son died.” Shayna fought the ache in her heart at the admission. “I think it might be gone, the spark, and I don’t know what I’m going to tell my editor. I think I might quit.”

“Things like that don’t just go away,” Dante said. His eyes narrowed, looking like chips of pewter. “And you can’t just quit. Think of that store manager. Did you for once stop and think that when you walked out of your life you also walked out on your fans? God… First Ritchie Panic, then Collette, then Rage of Angels, now you.”

Shayna jerked back in her seat, startled. “Maybe something happened with them. Not Ritchie Panic, but, like, with Collette. Maybe she just didn’t want to tell you. I don’t know what terms you parted on. I mean, you’d been divorced for two years. And who’s Rage of Angels?”

“A band I mentored four years ago. They disappeared off the face of the planet last December. At least it was after they’d finished their album and before they were due to tour, but still, they were gone until last month and haven’t told anyone where they went. Not even me.” He glared at his beer before taking another drink. “And I was on excellent terms with them before they left. Anyway, we were talking about you.”

Shame twisted Shayna’s gut and made her ears burn. She remembered the lingering sadness in his voice when he was talking about his childhood idol abandoning his fans, and she recognized Dante was right. Until she’d made her online post the other week, she hadn’t given her readers the respect they were due. Not since Shawn Jr. died.

Dante’s frown deepened. “Your publisher knows what’s going on, right?”

Shayna nodded. “They know. Emma persuaded them to give me an extension on my deadline.”

“How much time do you have left?” he asked softly.

“A few days to write a pitch….” She finished her wine and toyed with the empty glass. “Three months before I have to turn in a first draft. But I still have nothing. Not even an idea.”

“And if you don’t make the deadline?”

His voice was low and forbidding, but she met his gaze, willing herself to be brave. “They already gave me one extension, so if I don’t make this one, they might not work with me again. But, as I said, maybe I’m done writing.”

Dante was silent as he digested her words, but Shayna wasn’t fooled by his apparent calm. There was a rigid tension in his shoulders, and his eyes seemed to burn. Suddenly she felt like part of a pack of disappointments for him. Not only had a former hero of his abandoned him as a fan, his ex-wife had done the same and never given a reason. And then his protégés. It was clear he took loyalty very seriously.

He would probably throw her out now. A stone settled in her chest, and she blinked back the tears that burned behind her eyes as she awaited the inevitable. Oddly enough, what she thought she’d miss most was his very presence.

“This is what’s going to happen,” he said slowly. “You’ve got to get your creativity back and come up with a story.”

“—I’ll pack my things,” she began at the same time. Then his words sank in. “What?”

“Tomorrow you will write something,” he said.

“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered. “You can’t just turn story ideas on and off like a faucet.”

Dante gently grabbed her arms and leaned forward until his mane of dark curls made a curtain around them. His deep blue eyes caught and captivated her. Shayna’s breath halted as a hot shiver ran down her spine.

“You will,” he said. “Inspiration never dies.” Then his lips brushed across hers.

They were whisper-soft. Shayna’s nerves tingled and sang. She melted against him, returning the kiss, but just as she reached up to caress his hair, Dante released her and moved away.

“For luck,” he said, giving her a slight smile. “Now get to bed. You have a busy day ahead of you.”

Shayna opened her mouth to whisper his name, but the word died in her throat as she watched him pour himself another drink. He kept his back to her.

Despite her trembling legs, she slid off the bar stool and fled the room. In a trance-like state, she washed off her makeup and got ready for bed, but Dante’s kiss replayed in her mind. It didn’t mean anything, the logical half of her brain protested, but her heart and body didn’t listen. Her skin continued to tingle.

“I feel like one of the heroines in my stories,” she whispered.

It took forever before sleep claimed her, and when it did, Dante strode into her dreams. He did more than just kiss her.

***

Dante sighed as he pressed his finger to lips that still tingled. “Shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered to the empty room.

It was just for luck, he feebly rationalized. Besides, she shouldn’t have looked so damn sexy in that dress.

His eyes strayed to the stack of books at his elbow. He’d never read a romance novel before, but he enjoyed all things medieval. He was curious to see if Shayna’s stories were accurate.

Polishing off the rest of his beer, he took the books upstairs. An hour later, he lay in bed with The Duke’s Bride, turning the pages as fast as his eyes could devour them. He’d heard romance novels alternately described as insipid fluff or porn for women. This was neither. Shayna’s novel was well-written, with captivating characters and a thrilling plot about a man and a woman from rival noble houses uncovering a dangerous secret to the crown and falling in love in the process. And she’d clearly done her research. Even little things, like scarcity of paper in the period, or which particular nobles were favored by the king, were accurate as far as the history books he’d read stated.

The heroine was brash and mischievous, completely unlike the Shayna he knew, and when he reached the first love scene, he was astounded by the incredibly sensual prose. To call it porn would demean the passion emblazoned on the pages. Shayna wielded great power as an author. With mere words, she had him hard and aching—and he couldn’t take care of the problem because the story had woven a spell over him. He had to know what happened next. The hero had won the heroine’s body, but would he win her heart? Dante was surprised by how much he cared. It was almost impossible to believe that the tiny, vulnerable woman in the next room was capable of creating such an intense story.

He finished the book with a satisfied smile and reached for the next. Then he looked at the clock. It was three a.m. His eyes burned with exhaustion, and reluctantly he put the novel back on the end table.

Sleep didn’t come right away. Dante couldn’t stop thinking about Shayna. After reading her book, it seemed he knew her better, yet he couldn’t help but feel he didn’t know her at all. That contradiction was infuriating.

However, there were two things he did know. One: After reading Shayna’s sex scenes, it would be impossible to think of her in a platonic manner ever again. Not that he’d been able to do so in the first place, but her sensual imagination threw a wrench in his efforts to view her as an innocent that he’d corrupt with his desire. Two: It would be a crime for her to never write another book.

Dante was lost as to how to handle the former, but he had a plan for the latter.

Chapter Nine

Shayna woke to the sound of knocking on her bedroom door.

“What?” she called groggily, rubbing her eyes.

“Are you decent?” Dante called.

“Yeah.” The bedside clock read ten a.m.

Dante opened the door and turned on the light. He held something in his hands, but Shayna was blinking too much from the sudden brightness to see what it was.

“Happy early birthday,” he said, flashing that smile that made her belly flutter. Then her eyes widened as she saw his gift. It was a new laptop. From the look of it, the thing was ten times more expensive than the ancient monstrosity she’d broken over the head of the thug outside the stadium where they met. Jeez, that seemed so long ago.

“Now you can get started on your next book.” Dante’s grin broadened, accentuating his dimples. “I’m going to take a nap. I stayed up too late reading.” His smile remained, though he spoke in a somewhat stern voice. “By the time I get up, you better have something for me.”

He sounded just like her old critique partner, who’d motivated her to write every day, no matter how bad she felt. After Shayna’s world collapsed, she’d broken contact with the woman, not wanting to hear a word about writing when all happiness had died.

Before she could respond, Dante left the room. Shayna closed her eyes and opened them. The laptop was still there. She hadn’t dreamt it. And, last night wasn’t a dream, either. In one evening, Dante had learned more about her romance-writing career than her husband had known in their almost four years of marriage.

He’d also kissed her. The brief touch of his lips on hers may have been chaste, but it had filled her with a desire that she’d before only thought existed in her imagination.

For luck, he’d said. To find inspiration—today, he was now saying.

She got out of bed and yanked open the dresser drawers, at a loss for what to wear. At a loss, period. Dante expected her to write today, and she had nothing. Her characters hadn’t spoken to her in months. And here she was, somehow supposed to face a blank page.

Why did he care so much about it, anyway? she wondered again. It’s not like he reads romance novel—

She paused, fingers frozen on the button of her jeans as his earlier words sank in.

“I stayed up too late reading.”

He’d read one of her books. Dante Deity, heavy metal icon, had read one of her novels.

Another horrifying thought followed: He read my love scenes!

Did Dante now think she was a sex-starved nympho? Although she didn’t write erotica, her books had some steamy pages. Shayna was well aware of the opinion most men held of her genre. They thought it was sappy crap or porn for women. Like all other romance authors, she’d challenged them to read one before passing judgment, but now that one had risen to the challenge… She agonized over his possible reactions to her work as she yanked off the jeans and threw on a pair of yoga pants. Then she propped the laptop on a pillow and fired it up. There was no way she had the courage to go down to his office.

Taking a deep breath, she set up the computer and opened the word-processing program. The white screen was like liquid nitrogen, freezing her instantly, cutting off all potential ideas. For what seemed like an eternity she sat there shaking, fingers poised over the keys, trying to summon a noun, a verb…anything. Finally, she let out a huge sigh, slumping her shoulders in defeat. Her eyes darted around the room to look at anything but that damn white screen, the bane of all writers.

Damn him for telling her to do this! Why was she even trying to follow his orders? Did she have some kind of complex that drew her to bossy, controlling men? He was just like her husband, always telling her what to do.

No, he wasn’t.

Dante might be an autocrat, but only about things pertaining to her well-being. And he really hadn’t even been that autocratic about that. When Shawn told her to do something, it was always to please or benefit himself in some way. Dante saved her when she was about to be raped. Shawn likely would have walked away from such a situation. When Dante found out she was hurt and had nowhere to go, he’d taken her in. Shawn wouldn’t have taken in a stray cat. Dante had told her to rest so she could heal. Whenever Shayna was sick, Shawn had still wanted her to cook him dinner and bring him beer. Dante wanted her to write because it was important to her. Shawn would have been happy if she quit. In fact, Shawn had thrown a fit when she tried to write in bed. Dante wouldn’t care where she wrote as long as she did it.

Shayna closed her eyes and pictured the man who’d saved her, who was helping her still. Aside from sometimes being pushy, he was almost too good to be real. He was too…chivalrous. Truly like he was a knight of old reincarnated. And he was far too handsome, too.

Unbidden, she relived the feel of his kiss. He’d said it was only for luck, but it had felt like so much more.

Slowly, a new thought arose. How would one of her heroines react to a kiss like that, from a man like that? What would a man like Dante be back in the days she wrote about? He was so noble, but music was an integral part of him.

Recent events had broken through the barriers of her grief. Piece by piece, The Disinherited Duke formed in Shayna’s mind. She typed up the notes at a feverish pace. When the duke—she couldn’t think of a name for him yet—lost his title and lands, he consoled himself with music and became a minstrel. Why did he lose his title? Because, she wrote, an evil duke framed him, leading the king to believe the hero was plotting against the Crown. Then the hero fell in love with the daughter of one of the king’s favored earls, and the lady was to become betrothed to none other than the evil duke. Now the minstrel had to win back his title or the lady would be lost to him and suffer a dreadful fate at the hands of his enemy!

Three hours later, Shayna had three pages of notes and the first chapter written. Her neck cramped and her stomach rumbled, but she leaned back against the pillows with a blissful sigh. She’d done it! She’d written! She had a story!

She saved her work, checked it for typos, then emailed it to Emma, praying she’d like it. She headed to the kitchen then, suddenly famished and surprised Rosa hadn’t popped in with something to eat. Still, the story continued to weave in her mind, and her minstrel knight spoke to her in Dante’s voice. And God, that felt so good.

It had been his kiss; she knew it. Never before had she been so inspired. With her previous books she’d researched some sexual content through online forums where women discussed their sex lives and exchanged tips, but most of her scenes had been from her own longings and imaginings. Shawn had been more of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am type, which wasn’t very inspirational. But now she had experienced real desire with Dante’s kiss. That made all the difference.

Rosa greeted her with a broad smile. “Hello, Senorita Shayna. Would you like breakfast or lunch?”

“Lunch would be good.” It occurred to her again that the housekeeper hadn’t interrupted her while she was writing. Dante must have told her not to. She wondered if he was still napping or if he was down in his studio working.

Her suspicions about his direction seemed confirmed as Rosa prepared a quesadilla. “Señor Deity tells me you are a romance writer.”

“Yeah.”

Shayna braced herself for an outpouring of matronly disapproval, but the housekeeper grinned and placed a plate on the table. “Good, he needs some romance in his life.”

Shayna didn’t respond, but her cheeks burned. It seemed more like it was Dante who’d brought romance into her life. Thanks to him, she had her writing back.

She had to do something to thank him. As she finished eating, an idea occurred to her. She got up and looked around in the fridge and cupboards, taking stock of the ingredients. If she could just…

“What are you doing, Miss Shayna?” Rosa asked.

“I want to cook something.”

Rosa’s voice was muffled when it reached her in the spice cupboard, but it clearly rang with confusion. “You are still hungry? You may ask me anytime if—”

Shayna turned and smiled. “No, thank you. I want to make something special for Dante, to thank him for all he’s done for me.”

Rosa grinned. “Ah. The best way to a man’s heart is his stomach.”

“No, that’s not why,” Shayna said quickly, though the thought of reaching his heart made her knees go weak.

Rosa ignored her protests and hummed cheerfully while Shayna tried to decide what to make. The choice was obvious. There were cream cheese, eggs, sugar, graham crackers and the other necessities…

Cheesecake!

***

Dante put down the second book in Shayna’s series with a frown. He’d meant to check on her progress hours ago, but this novel had sucked him in. He gave the paperback a baleful glare and headed downstairs.

She wasn’t in the office. Dante frowned again. If she had ignored him and was in the library or the pool procrastinating… A sudden whiff of heaven distracted him. He followed the scent to the kitchen and froze at the sight of Shayna’s delicious rear as she bent over the oven.

“Something smells good,” he said, straying further into the room.

She jerked upright, eyes wide like a startled doe.

“Stay out,” she commanded, charging forward and putting a hand on his chest to stop him. Heat flared at the contact, though she jerked away. “I want it to be a surprise,” she added in a murmur, her cheeks turning an adorable pink.

Lust ignited Dante’s loins. After being aroused by her sex scenes, her presence now bordered on physical torture. He forced himself to focus on his priorities. If she’d been wasting time in the kitchen, he’d have to give her the same lecture he gave his bandmates when they slacked off.

“How much writing have you done?”

Instead of wide-eyed denial or excuses, her face lit up with a brilliant smile, the first pure one he’d seen from her. “I have a rough three-page outline and the first chapter!” Then, without warning, she threw her arms around him. “Thank you so much for pushing me, Dante. It was exactly what I needed.”

He hardened instantly. Damn, she felt so right in his arms. Dante gave her a brief squeeze and pulled away. “I have some work to do, so I guess I’ll see you at dinner. And I’ll want to read that chapter.”

But as he headed to his private music studio, the thought of keeping Shayna around longer than this recuperation intruded. Not just keeping her here, but also kissing her, making love to her, doing the thing on page 184…

Though he shook his head to clear it and got out his songwriting notebook, he didn’t get much work done. Not with the smell of Shayna’s culinary surprise permeating his senses. And after dinner, when she presented him with the best cheesecake he’d ever tasted, Dante couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to taste her. To date her, then. It was a shame that relationships weren’t for guys like him. Collette and every woman before her had proven that.

His heart warmed as they discussed her book pitch, and a thrill of satisfaction filled him when she said the hero would be a musician. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d inspired that.

“And what’s great is, the unresolved threads from the previous books fit in like they’re meant to be there,” Shayna announced, licking the last bit of cheesecake from her lips. The shine of creative bliss in her eyes suffused Dante with a joy more intense than his usual pleasure at helping someone, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been his kiss that inspired her.

She rose from the table and hugged him once more. “I’m going to see if I can get more words down. If I don’t see you until tomorrow, thank you again. Oh, and I’m helping Rosa cook dinner tomorrow. I forgot how much I like cooking!”

Dante sighed, as the room seemed to dim when she left. She had no idea how close he’d come to kissing her again.

The feeling just got worse. As the week progressed, the thought of pursuing Shayna continued to haunt him, and it was no wonder, since the two of them were beginning to act like they were married. She spent the day in the office, typing away at her manuscript while Dante worked down in his studio until dinner, at which point she’d present him a delicious meal that she’d helped Rosa cook. At first the housekeeper grumbled about Shayna’s intrusion in the kitchen, but now it appeared she enjoyed the company.

In the evenings, Shayna and Dante would watch movies or hang out in the living room while she told him about the progress of her book. It was a relaxing routine he could definitely get used to.

Reality returned on Friday. It came like a thunderbolt, when Alex called to say he had his flight booked and was eager to start work with the others on the new album. Problems began to arise in Dante’s mind. Shayna had told him she was sheltered, and though at first he’d thought her nervousness around people was just a side effect of her trauma, he was beginning to suspect that she was naturally shy. How would she tolerate his boisterous and sometimes wild colleagues? And when he went on the road… He shook his head.

Of course, things had changed for him. When he’d been with Collette it was a whirlwind of parties, travel, fights and make-up sex, but long before they ended the marriage that lifestyle grew tedious. He much preferred his days with Shayna: drama-free and peaceful.

Wait. Was he entertaining the idea of a permanent relationship with her?

When Dante told Shayna they would soon have company, she made a valiant attempt to hide her nervousness. He wondered if her bully of an ex had made her afraid of men, or maybe she was just intimidated by the idea of even more rock stars underfoot.

She managed a smile. “O-okay, I’ll make steaks, then.”

“That’ll be great,” Dante said, heartened by the response as she straightened her shoulders as if pleased to have control over some element of the upcoming visit. She’d come so far in these last few weeks. The sadness and uncertainty had faded considerably from her eyes.

Of course, whether or not she’d be able to handle the work side of his life remained to be seen.

Chapter Ten

Shayna continued to stir the marinade for the steaks, though it didn’t need it anymore. Her hands were shaking and she had to do something to hide her nervousness. Tonight the other members of Dante’s band were coming over to begin work on their new album, and they’d be staying for a couple days. Would they laugh at Dante for taking her in? Furthermore, why did she care so much about what they thought? She’d be moving on soon. She just didn’t know where.

Dante wasn’t fooled by her calm act. “Don’t be scared, the guys are cool.”

“I’m not scared,” she insisted. I’m embarrassed. These guys had seen her at her most pitiful. These men had seen her filthy, bedraggled, and helpless. And not every man was as compassionate as Dante.

“That’s good. You shouldn’t be.” He dipped his finger in the pot and licked it. “Mmm, that’s delicious. To tell you the truth, there is one thing I’m worried about.”

“What?” Shayna whispered.

He gave her that melting smile and leaned forward. “I’m afraid that, after they taste your cooking, they’ll try to take you away from me.”

The inherent possessiveness of his words should have infuriated her, contradictory as it was—he’d done nothing since his kiss to make any romantic claim on her—but instead she felt a warm thrill in her lower body. Then the gate buzzer rang, dousing the moment.

“They’re here,” Dante said, leaving her alone.

They all entered the house. Shayna knew it was cowardly, but she remained in the kitchen listening to the boisterous male voices as she seasoned the steaks. The voices faded as the band headed downstairs, and she let out a relieved sigh that their meeting would be postponed. She wished Rosa was here, but the housekeeper had taken the night off.

Her reprieve was only long enough to finish the cooking, which took less than an hour. Just moments after she’d finished setting the table, Dante and his band appeared back upstairs.

“I’m fucking starving,” a bearded man in torn jeans and a faded shirt said as he strode into the dining room, followed by the rest of the motley crew. He saw Shayna and froze. The others bumped into him, and four pairs of eyes raked her up and down, likely imagining her undressed. She hated when strange men looked at her like this. Shayna glared over their shoulders at Dante. This was not a good start.

“Who is this?” the guy asked, still ogling her.

Dante chuckled. “This is Shayna, the woman we rescued after our last show.” He glanced over and introduced his band. “Shayna, this is Julian, the bassist, Alex, my guitarist, Zander, the drummer, and Dom, keyboard player extraordinaire.”

Julian shook his head, his brown eyes wide. “You brought her home?”

Zander laughed. “Yeah, he’s got a thing for strays. After all, he took you in when your wife threw you out.”

The man named Alex stepped forward. He brushed a lock of long blond hair from his face and extended a hand. “I’m obviously the most civilized one here. Nice to meet you, Shayna.”

Shayna shook his hand and smiled shyly as the others followed suit.

Dante pulled out her chair, giving her a lazy smile. “When you try her cooking, you’ll see why I want to keep her around a little longer.”

Shayna’s eyes narrowed. After being called a stray, the talk about his keeping her was a little much. “You do know I’m a person and not a dog, right?”

His gaze remained level with hers until her face flushed. Then he glanced at the floor. “Yes, Shayna, I am well aware of that. I apologize.”

He sounded sincere. Shayna glanced over to see if the others were laughing, but they were too busy piling food on their plates and digging in.

“Oh my God,” Julian said through a mouthful of food. “This is the best steak I’ve ever had. Can I have her when you’re done, Dante?”

Shayna shook her head with a combination of amusement and horror. It was no wonder the guy’s wife threw him out. He had the manners of a caveman.

The rest just laughed.

Dante gave her an apologetic smile. “He’s one hell of a bassist,” he said, as if that excused everything.

There was something off about his look, actually, almost as if he were daring her to argue. Then Shayna figured it out. This was a test of some sort. She had no idea why he was testing her, but with her newly discovered stubbornness she determined she’d pass. Then she could decide if Dante passed her tests.

“Gentlemen.” She steeled her nerve and gave the band a brilliant smile. “I want to thank you all for rescuing me that night. I dread to think of what would have happened if you didn’t intervene when you did.”

To her surprise, they all blushed.

“Hell,” Zander said. “We didn’t really do anything. Security scared ’em off.”

“Besides, it was Dante’s idea,” Alex added.

“And you did fine yourself, braining that guy with your backpack,” Julian said.

The one named Dom remained silent, but he smiled and gave her a respectful nod before turning back to his meal.

“So, what were you doing there, anyway?” Zander asked. “I mean, why were you…?”

“Homeless?” Shayna said helpfully, though her gaze dared him to scorn her.

He coughed uncomfortably, but nodded.

Dante put a hand on her shoulder, and she took a deep breath, gathering her courage. The truth would set her free. “First my baby died of SIDS, and then”—she borrowed Dante’s words—“I discovered that my husband is a philandering jackass.”

“Damn…,” Alex breathed.

Shayna shrugged and looked down at her plate. “Whenever I was upset, a walk would make me feel better, so I just walked…and walked.”

“So that’s what happened to your feet.” Zander’s hazel eyes widened. “They were all kinds of messed up. How far did you walk?”

Dante answered. “All the way from Portland, man. And she managed to get divorced on her way.”

“Holy shit!” Julian said.

Alex offered a high five. “You are one tough lady.”

Dom finally spoke up, looking at Dante. “Why didn’t you tell us about her when we first showed up?”

“Because you would have been too busy asking questions and we wouldn’t have gotten any work done,” he told them.

Alex laughed and turned to Dom. “That’s Dante, all right. Always about the work, even with this pretty thing around. If it were me—”

“That’s enough, Alex,” Dante said with a raised brow, though he was smiling.

It occurred to Shayna that Dante hadn’t mentioned that her stay was a temporary situation, though, just how temporary had grown vaguer every day. Why would he do that? She pondered the question while they finished up the meal. At least now they were being polite and not ogling her. Maybe that was why.

They headed to the bar. As Shayna sipped her wine, she looked around in awe. Here she was, partying with rock stars in a private room. If only Shawn could see her now. Her lips curved in a satisfied smirk.

“So, Shayna,” Zander said after his umpteenth shot of whiskey. “Where were you planning on walking to?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I would’ve had to settle down somewhere. I do have some money,” she added defensively.

“Yeah.” Dante grinned. “I forgot to mention that you’re in illustrious company. Shayna’s a bestselling romance author.”

Her cheeks burned, and she glared at him. Now they would all laugh at her.

When his response was another challenging look, she lifted her chin. Sure enough, his band exploded laughing.

“And you believed her?” Julian said as he grabbed another beer.

Dante set down his glass. “I’ll go get her books.”

After he left, the four others turned wide eyes upon her. “No shit, really?” Zander asked as he opened a bottle of Corona. “You’re an author?”

“Yeah.” Shayna blushed. “But I’m not one of the really big names or anything.” Of course, her fans’ enthusiastic response when she’d posted notes about her new book sure made her feel like one.

Alex smirked. “So, you basically write porn for women.”

Shayna rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t. For one thing, my novels have plots. For another, porn is solely about lust—and often the degradation of women. In my stories, the characters love and respect each other.” She smiled as she realized they were actually listening. “Although, there is plenty of lust involved. Still, as the phrase goes, don’t knock it until you try it.”

“Yeah.” Dante returned with her books. “I liked her books. The stories are amazing and well-researched. I’m almost done with the series.” His powerful gaze challenged them all, daring them to laugh.

Instead, all four seized a different book. Dom immediately flipped to the author picture and glanced back at Shayna with a slight smile. Zander started on the first page, actually reading the story, while Julian and Alex flipped pages, obviously looking for the sex scenes.

“I still need to get those signed,” Dante told her as he sat next to her. “Luckily, I brought a pen this time.”

“Wow, this is hot,” Alex said suddenly, looking up from his copy of The Duke’s Bride. “It’s giving me wood.”

Julian met Shayna’s gaze with a leer. “So, um, how do you go about researching the sex scenes?”

“I have my ways,” she answered with what she hoped was a mysterious smile. Surprisingly, she wanted to laugh. Her reviewers had praised her love scenes, but none had gone so far as to comment on the scenes’ physical effects on them—or to speculate whether they’d come from the author’s personal experience.

For the next hour Shayna was bombarded by sex questions. Some were legitimate, but most were just obscene. Shayna surprised herself and refused to be annoyed or give the band the satisfaction of showing embarrassment, and she answered the questions with cool professionalism. She felt like Dr. Ruth.

“So, what’s your favorite position?” Julian asked, licking his lips.

“That’s enough!” Dante said, glaring at them all with those pewter eyes. “Where’d Zander just go?”

“To bed,” Julian told him, and waggled his eyebrows as he finished off another rum and coke. “He took his book with him.”

Shayna’s eyes widened. Was the guitarist going to read the whole thing too?

Dom yawned and headed off to bed as well, handing his book to Dante on his way out. Julian handed over his as well. Alex looked up, a little shamefaced.

“Give me a minute. I can’t get up just yet.”

Dante laughed and handed Shayna a pen to autograph the remaining books. His palpable presence at her shoulder made Shayna dizzy. She’d never autographed a book for a man before. Especially not a rock god—and one who’d done more for her than any man she’d ever met.

Unable to think of anything else, she inscribed them, To Dante. Thank you so much for all you’ve done for me. You are a true hero. It seemed trite, but maybe she could come up with something cleverer on the last book when she got it back from Zander.

Alex and Dante kept talking. The conversation shifted to preparations for the next Deity album. Shayna thought it would be an interesting subject, but after what felt like an hour of hearing about riffs, measures, and bridges, her eyes glazed over. The two men didn’t notice when she headed upstairs to bed.

Loud snoring greeted her as she opened her door. Zander lay in her bed, with her book still in his hand, drooling on her pillow! Quaking in outrage, she shut the door.

“’Night, Shayna, nice meeting you,” Julian slurred as he stumbled past. He crashed into the other bedroom and shut the door.

Shayna stared down the dark hallway, frozen. She remembered only seeing four beds when she’d explored on the second day there. The house’s other original bedrooms had been used for the bar, the library, the office, the room for the foster cats, and one was crammed with antiques. Dom had to be in the last room with a bed, which meant that the only unoccupied space was Dante’s.

Did that mean that she’d share it with him? Her belly fluttered.

Part of her desperately wanted to, but she didn’t want to be forced into it by circumstance. And yet, even worse would be sleeping on the couch.

Chapter Eleven

When Shayna went back downstairs, Dante was alone at the bar scrawling notes on a pad of paper. She shook her head. Although he normally paid attention to every detail about what was going on around him, his music made the exception. Once he really got deep in writing, the rest of the world just fell away.

Like when she wrote.

He looked up and smiled. “There you are. Maybe you can help me with these lyrics, since you’re a writer and all—”

“Zander is in my bed,” she interrupted, vying for courage despite her quaking knees. Did he want her with him or away?

He blinked. “Oh, shit, I didn’t even think of that.”

“The others are filling the other rooms.” Her stomach gave another flutter at the intensity of his gaze. “D-do you have an extra blanket? I could take the couch.”

“Alex just took it.” Dante ran a hand through his hair. “They must think we’re sleeping together—which is totally my fault with how I’ve been acting tonight. I’m sorry. Don’t worry, though, you can stay in my room and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

She only half heard him, as half of her melted at the thought of sleeping in his bed.

It’s just your hormones spinning out of control, she tried to tell herself. You’ve been celibate for over a year and, in the presence of an obscenely gorgeous man, it’s understandable. Shayna closed her eyes. But I don’t want him to sleep on the floor.

“I still can’t believe that you have a freakin’ mansion but only one couch,” she said in a half-hearted protest before she did something crazy and voiced her real thoughts.

“I like chairs. Their craftsmanship—”

Shayna cut him off before the prospect of his bed could tempt her to give in to her desire. “Fine, I’ll take the recliner.”

Dante grabbed her arm before she could head to the living room. “That wouldn’t be safe with Zander in there. He only joined the band a year ago, so I don’t know him that well.”

Shayna’s skin burned with pleasure at his touch, but she retained her composure. “Oh. And sleeping in your room would be safe?”

Good God, I hope not, her inner imp remarked.

He sighed and released her. “It’ll be all right, Shayna.”

She took a sip of the wine she hadn’t finished and frowned as she recalled what he’d said earlier. “Why do they think we’re sleeping together?”

She realized the question was dumb even as it left her mouth.

“Well, let’s see.” He scratched his temple in a parody of deep thought. “I’m a single man and a rock star. You’re a beautiful woman who’s been alone with me under my roof for two weeks.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips, even as her pulse rose at him calling her beautiful. “So they think I can’t resist you?”

The words were too close to the truth for comfort.

Dante smiled, and her belly began its familiar dance. “Actually, I think it’s the other way around.”

His words made her shiver.

He saw and leaned forward. “Really, you don’t need to be afraid. I’ve slept next to you before and behaved myself.”

Her breath halted at his admission. “When?”

“That first night, when you had that nightmare.”

The words hung in the air for a captive eternity.

“You mean, that wasn’t a dream?” Shayna met Dante’s gaze as goose bumps broke out all over her body. “You sang to me, didn’t you? I didn’t dream that.”

Slowly, he nodded. If Shayna didn’t know better, she’d think he was shy about it. Then he opened his mouth and sang a verse. “‘We believed we’d catch the rainbow.…’”

“That was beautiful,” Shayna whispered as he finished. “Is it one of yours?”

“No. It’s ‘Catch the Rainbow’—sung by Dio when he was in Rainbow. It’s an old song, but one of my favorites. Did you like it?”

Shayna nodded, and his gorgeous features struck her full-force, almost as painful as the memory of his song. Those glittering blue eyes, his lustrous dark curls, those kissable lips…

“Thank you for doing that,” she said softly. She ached to touch him. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was his unbelievable beauty. Maybe it was the way his brief kiss haunted her dreams. Shayna couldn’t bear it any longer. Time seemed to freeze as she tangled her hands in his hair, leaned forward, and pressed her lips against his.

At first he didn’t move. Shayna started to pull away and apologize, but then his arms locked around her, yanking her off her bar stool. Before she fell, he grabbed her rear, lifting her against him. Her knee bumped the bar, but Dante swallowed her cry, devouring her lips as she ground herself against his hardness. His tongue darted into her mouth to tangle with hers, and her senses swam. If it weren’t for his iron grip, she would have fallen.

He dragged his mouth from hers—after a blissful eternity.

“Shayna,” he whispered, his eyes dark blue velvet.

“Hmmm?” she murmured, still reeling.

“It’s not safe in my bedroom anymore. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered in reply, not meaning it. “I couldn’t help myself.”

His brow arched. “Do you want to know what I can’t help?”

Captivated by both his beauty and the feel of him against her, she was barely able to mutter, “What?”

He gave her The Smile. “Come upstairs with me and I’ll show you.”

At Dante’s words, reality made a weak attempt to intrude, but his masculine scent and the heat of his body beat it back.

Shayna shifted off his lap, and he sucked in his breath.

“Hold on,” he said. His lips caressed her neck as he whispered, “I want to carry you again.”

Shayna clung to him and wrapped her legs around his waist. He slid off his bar stool, and it rocked dangerously as he got to his feet. Dante made it a few steps…then pinned her against the wall, kissing her until she trembled in his arms. He stopped and carried her to the stairs, but there he stopped to again kiss her senseless.

Eventually, they made it to his room. How he was able to get the door open between kisses, Shayna had no idea. Dante kicked it shut before they made their way to the bed, collapsing on its plush surface. The feel of his weight upon her was a delicious, long-lost sensation, and a rush of longing seared through her body.

His hair brushed across her cheeks as he kissed her. “Shayna,” he whispered against her lips. “I want to see you.”

Dante’s meaning became clear as he reared up and grasped the buttons of her shirt. As she nodded, a smile came to her lips. His shirt buttoned up too, and slowly she reached for his top button.

They undressed each other with torturous slowness. Shayna forgot her usual modesty as she leaned up on her elbow and stared, awestruck at Dante’s body. He was only the third naked man she’d ever seen, and he was a wonder to behold. Whereas her ex-husband had been bulky and barrel-chested, Dante was lean, toned, and had a body that cried out to be licked.

Her cheeks heated, and when her eyes met his they scorched. She started to shrink back, shifting to cover her breasts, but Dante seized her arm and gently moved it.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, placing his hand on her back and pulling her against him. Then he kissed her again.

His hair tickled her shoulder, and she plunged a hand into the silken mass, reveling in the feel. She’d doubted she’d be able to go back to short-haired men after this.

Dante’s kisses trailed down her jaw line and to her neck, sending frissons of electric bliss pulsing through her body. Shayna’s core became a throbbing, aching thing. She’d die if he didn’t touch her there soon.

But he was not yet ready. For an eternity his hands and mouth lavished erotic torture upon her breasts. Shayna arched up with a surprised moan at the new sensation. Her breasts weren’t very large, so her husband had pretty much ignored them except for the occasional painful squeeze. Now their existence was a revelation. Her breasts came alive under Dante’s ministrations, tingling and sending bursts of sensation to her hot center.

Her own hands roamed down his taut body, exploring exotic new territory. Shayna’s fingers wrapped around his hardness, and she bit back a cry of wonder at how large his shaft was, and how solid its heat felt in her grasp.

Finally, his fingers slid down to cup her slick core, gently squeezing and caressing at the same time. Her cries escaped, only to be swallowed by his mouth.

“Dante,” she moaned between drugging kisses. “Please…”

He rolled her onto her back and leaned over her to rummage in the nightstand, giving her an excellent view of his backside. Her hand reached out to grab his rear, but she restrained herself at the last moment, not wanting to startle him.

Dante lifted a foil package and frowned, tossing it away.

“Expired,” he murmured, grabbing another. “Expired. Expired. Ah, here we go.”

Shayna sighed in relief that at least one of them was thinking clearly. If he’d forgotten and she got pregnant… The thought vanished as he poised above her, a true god of earthly delight.

He pressed against her entrance, finally guiding himself inside with excruciating slowness. Her core pulsed and throbbed with every inch, and by the time she could feel his pelvis against her clit, Shayna was writhing. Dante withdrew, and then, with one powerful thrust—

An earthshaking orgasm tore through her, bringing a small scream.

Dante froze. “Did you just come?”

Humiliation washed over her, even as she pulsated around him. “It’s been awhile,” she whispered, turning her face away. “I’m sorry.”

He grasped her chin and turned her back to meet his gaze. “Don’t be sorry. It’s a good thing, especially for my ego.” He chuckled before releasing her, his voice deep and husky. “Let’s see if I can make you do it again, shall we?”

His hips rocked against hers in a slow, powerful rhythm, and Shayna was carried off in the waves of Dante’s lovemaking. Her hands tangled in his hair as he nibbled on her neck, drowning her in ecstasy. His hot skin slid against hers, and it seemed they were in a world of timeless pleasure.

Suddenly, Dante sped up, simultaneously deepening his thrusts. “Come for me, Shayna.” His voice was soft and imploring. “Please, come for me, now.”

Instantly, her body obeyed. Every cell of her being seemed to explode into trembling, electrical light. Dante let out a rough groan, and Shayna felt him spasm inside her, bringing the aftershocks of her climax to a new plateau.

For the longest time, they lay trembling in each other’s arms. Shayna sighed, running her hand across Dante’s back. He had goose bumps, she noted with a smile.

Eventually, the spell was broken. Dante gave her one last kiss before his weight lifted from her, and he headed to the bathroom to clean up. Realization at what they had done sank in, and Shayna yanked on her underwear. She fled to the bathroom as soon as he returned, not daring to meet his eyes. She couldn’t stop trembling, either. Maybe it was because of the cool air on her bare skin, but she thought it had more to do with what had happened.

Would everything change between them now?

She buried her face in her hands as confusion overtook her. Her hair fell forward, and his scent overtook her, making her mind swim.

I’ll think about it tomorrow, she said silently, tossing her hair like Scarlett O’Hara as she tried to muster her courage. For now it would be enough to savor the pleasure of his embrace.

She emerged from the bathroom, surprised to see that Dante was still awake. After sex, which she didn’t even bother deluding herself to call lovemaking back then, her ex-husband had always rolled over and was snoring within seconds.

Her cheeks burned as she met Dante’s slumberous eyes. “I, um, don’t have any pajamas,” she said lamely.

Dante’s chuckle was low and sensuous. “I don’t mind.”

He lifted the blanket, and she climbed in beside him, startled when he put his arm around her and pulled her close. Though her book characters often cuddled afterward, it had never happened to her in real life.

I should be taking notes, she thought drowsily, but the warmth and safety of Dante’s embrace carried her off to sleep before she could savor the experience for very long.

Chapter Twelve

Shayna awoke the next morning to the sound of the shower running. Dante’s scent of subtle spice was everywhere. In the sheets, in her hair, in the very air. Memories of his lovemaking crashed down on her with earthshaking force. Today she’d have to face him and endure his reaction. What if he regretted it?

Sweat broke out over her skin. She wasn’t ready yet. Before Dante emerged, she jerked on her clothes and darted out of the room.

Her bedroom door was open. Instead of Zander being there, one of the Rosa’s daughters—the three came once a week to help with the dusting and heavier work, and also apparently when Dante had guests—was finished making the bed. She greeted Shayna with a shy smile on her way out.

Shayna showered and dressed, then went down to the dining room. Her heart froze in her chest as she saw Dante seated at the table with a cup of coffee and a plate of bacon and pancakes. His damp hair glinted in the morning sunlight, and she wondered where the other guys were.

“Good morning.”

He gave her a broad smile and gestured at a platter of enough food to feed an army. Though her stomach revolted at the thought of eating, Shayna filled up a plate, desperate to keep herself occupied. She sat and forced herself to nibble on a bit of bacon, occasionally darting nervous glances at Dante, waiting for his reaction to their intimacy and dreading it.

Dante’s eyes met hers, and her stomach clenched.

“About last night,” he began.

Oh God, here comes the regretful apology and it’ll-never-happen-again speech. Maybe he’d even ask her to leave.

Suddenly, Dante’s cell phone rang. He gave Shayna an apologetic smile, which darkened when he glanced down. His brows drew together as he swiped the screen to answer, and then he put the phone to his ear.

“Collette,” he said flatly.

Shayna jerked in her seat, feeling like she’d been punched in the gut. Her breakfast churned in her stomach as she heard the famous Collette’s musical voice trilling faintly through the phone speaker.

Dante’s expression softened, and he suddenly looked contrite. “Yes, I didn’t forget. I booked a room and I’ll meet you at the White House two hours before the ceremony.” He paused as Collette said something else. “Yes, we’ll make it so romantic they won’t forget.”

Cold chills marched down Shayna’s spine. Dante and his ex were doing something with the President? He’d “booked a room”? And how could he talk about making it romantic after what he’d done with Shayna last night?

Her heart shrieked with so much pain that she didn’t hear what Dante said after that. She inwardly debated asking just what he and his ex were doing together or remaining silent, but then the band saved her from making a decision as they came in through the door, carrying holders loaded with coffee from some place she’d heard them raving about last night. Dom and Alex passed out the cups, and everyone sat at the table, grabbing food off the platters.

Dante hung up and looked over at Dom. “Did you remember to book your flight for the wedding?”

Shayna’s frown deepened. Wedding? What wedding?

Dom nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right.” Dante looked down at his coffee but didn’t drink. “Collette just called.”

The keyboard player gave him a surprised look. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

A slight flush crept up Dante’s face. “Yeah. I feel like a total ass. It’s just that I’ve been distracted lately. And I’d appreciate it if you kept that information to yourself.”

Alex stroked his lower lip. “So, I meant to ask. Collette really agreed to do this? That’s a surprise. I thought she was set on staying retired.”

“Yeah, well, Quinn’s a close friend of ours, and she can’t resist a bride’s wish.” Dante shrugged. “Still, he didn’t tell Kinley about it. He wants to surprise her.”

“Cool,” Alex said through a mouthful of bacon. “Then we better get back to work. If we hope to have that new song ready in time. If you want to use it.”

“Okay, but I want to talk with Shayna for a moment,” Dante said. Shayna felt like it was almost an afterthought. He rose from the table and beckoned her.

Oh, God, he and his ex were doing something at a wedding at the White House. And they were leaving in a couple days. What if that meant he was now going to tell her to leave? What if he’d only slept with her because she was available, but now he and Collette were getting back together? With dragging steps and an aching heart, Shayna followed Dante upstairs.

He led her into his bedroom and sat on the bed, patting the spot next to him. She sat down, too, inhaling his subtle but intoxicating cologne, prepared to have her heart broken.

Dante sighed. “Some close friends of mine are getting married, and the guys and I are going to be part of the live music.”

“And your ex,” Shayna said. The words slipped out without her thinking.

He raised a brow before nodding. “Yeah. Our duet’s one of Kinley’s favorite songs. The bride. I’m honestly surprised Collette agreed to do it. She and I haven’t talked in years. But maybe she does think of others besides herself.”

Some of Shayna’s tension eased. So, this is what he’d meant about romantic?

She couldn’t keep from asking, “Your friends are getting married at the White House?” What kinds of prestigious people did he associate with?

Dante laughed. “Not the President’s home. It’s an old mansion in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, where people hold weddings and stuff.” He leaned forward and placed his hand on hers, and heat filled her at his touch. “Would you like to be my date?”

Giddiness swirled in her belly at his words even as relief washed over her. He didn’t want her to leave. “I would be honored.”

Dante spoke once more. “Before we were interrupted, I wanted to discuss last night.” He turned to her, his eyes cobalt-colored and penetrating. “I’m sorry things went that far and complicated our arrangement.”

Arrangement? The clinical way he said the word made chills of dread ricochet through her.

“However,” he continued. “I can’t say I’m sorry about what happened, and I wouldn’t mind repeating the experience.”

His little half-smile, and the memory of his incredible lovemaking were almost enough to undo her. Shayna wanted nothing more than to throw herself at him, but instead she blurted, “What about Collette?”

Dante’s brow arched. “What about her? She’s my ex for a reason.” His expression sobered. “Don’t worry about any of that. Just focus on your work, and I’ll focus on mine.”

He was apparently done discussing it. He bent down and placed a quick kiss on the tip of her nose, and then he headed downstairs, leaving Shayna’s mind spinning. He was sorry he slept with her, but he wanted to do it again? He was taking her to a wedding, where he and his ex would be singing together? His flawlessly beautiful, endlessly talented, celebrity ex?

How could Shayna compare?

***

Dante frowned as he listened to Julian’s bass line, trying to see if it fit the mood of the song. Alex had come up with a riff that had a medieval sort of flavor, and Dom did some effect with his keyboard to sound like flutes.

But…he was finding it hard to concentrate. He still couldn’t believe he’d forgotten all about Quinn’s and Kinley’s wedding. Aside from that making him feel like a total asshole, it was unnerving. He always knew what was on his calendar, sometimes six months or more in advance.

Shayna had held him completely engrossed. His quest to help her heal, his determination to get her writing again, and his desire to get to know her better had made him distracted and forgetful. He was never forgetful. But after last night he’d fallen deeper under her spell. Memories of her naked body stretched out beneath his, the scent of her skin, the way her tight sheath had pulsated around his hard cock washed over his mind and—

“Dante!” Zander broke off his thoughts. “Did you get that?”

He nodded and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Let me sing the opening verse and see how it gels.” He grabbed the microphone. “From the top.”

After another two hours, they had a rough version of what could turn out to be their next hit. Dante wasn’t sure it was ready to test out at his friends’ wedding, though. Too bad, since both and Bleeding Vengeance would be there, and he could count on them to give honest feedback.

But, suddenly, only one person’s opinion really counted. And she was no musician.

“I think this is going to be great!” Zander said when Dante called a break. “It really hearkens back to our old-school stuff.”

Julian nodded. “Yeah, it still needs some work, but I think it’ll be a hit at the wedding if we get it ready in time.”

“Speaking of.” Dom wiped down his keyboard and looked at Dante. “What are you going to do with your guest while we go?”

“I’m taking her with me.” The words left Dante’s mouth without pause, and he was surprised at how firmly he voiced them. He’d never had a problem with his ex-wife or girlfriends staying home when he had a gig before, but for some reason, the thought of leaving Shayna alone was unthinkable.

Zander gaped. “Really? Some random homeless chick you rescued from the streets—”

“Who is an intelligent, talented author and not some bum,” Dante reminded him. Even if she wasn’t, he wasn’t sure there’d be any difference. He’d probably have fallen for Shayna anyway.

“I still say you’re moving awfully fast.” Zander narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t even get like this with Collette. You’ve been distracted, forgetful, missing your cues…. I’ve never seen you like this. I get that Shayna’s cute, but she’s really young—and she’s been through a lot.”

Dante nodded, rankled that his distraction was so obvious. “Yes, I’m aware of that. What’s your point?”

“My point is that you need to be careful, man. Shayna may be intelligent, but that doesn’t change the fact that she was so emotionally traumatized that she walked until she almost died. Her feet might be better, but the mind takes longer to heal from shit like that.” The drummer shrugged. “And even if everything is hunky-dory in her psyche, that doesn’t change the fact that she’s recently divorced. What if you’re just her rebound? Slow down a bit! I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be alright,” Dante said. Then he left the studio before he got any more of the third-degree.

Of course, Zander was right, he admitted grudgingly. There was a possibility that, once Shayna’s grief stabilized, she’d no longer need or want him in her life. Then again, she clearly didn’t harbor any attachment to her ex, which Zander seemed worried about. So, instead of being wary, he was more determined than ever to savor his time with her.

He went to the kitchen and grabbed some sandwiches that Rosa had set out, taking one to Shayna, who’d completely taken over his office. Pages of hand-scrawled notes, history books, and even printouts of people he assumed modeled the characters littered his desk. She was thoroughly engrossed in her writing, typing furiously on her new laptop, and he couldn’t wait to read the next chapter. She’d left the hero in quite a bind, and he couldn’t imagine how the character would get out of it.

Despite her focus, Shayna glanced up at him with such a dreamy smile that he couldn’t help but bend down and claim her lips.

The kiss left them both breathless. He was playing with fire, but he didn’t mind getting burned.

Chapter Thirteen

As Shayna rode with Dante and Dom in a luxury shuttle to the Coeur d’Alene resort, she felt like a rock star herself. The thing had a flatscreen TV and a fridge full of drinks. And this had been her first time flying first-class.

Ever since Dante announced that he was taking her to his friends’ wedding, he’d been giving her the celebrity treatment. Before they left Sacramento, he took her shopping at an upscale store for something to wear to the wedding, as well as to buy a few other outfits for the trip. As she’d stood before the dressing room mirror in a burgundy Sue Wong gown that made her look like Roman royalty, she couldn’t help but hope it was as nice as whatever Collette would be wearing. Now, pulling up to the Coeur d’Alene resort, her worries and insecurities came back full force. Would Collette be staying here too? Would Dante just dump her off in their room and meet up with his ex? What if they reconciled despite what he’d said? What if, what if?

Dom leapt out of the shuttle, grabbed his bag and took off, muttering something about finding out how he could go fishing. Was he trying to get away before something awkward happened?

Her racing thoughts halted once they rode up the elevator to the penthouse and entered the resort suite. The place looked more like a high-class condo than a hotel room, with its separate kitchen area, living room with a fireplace, and adjoining bedroom. The white and blue chairs and ottoman, and the cream-colored walls accented the swanky, resort vibe. There was even a Jacuzzi on the balcony overlooking the lake.

She couldn’t suppress a gasp. “Wow. Do rock stars always get to stay in places like this?”

Dante laughed. “No. When we’re on tour, the record company deducts expenses like this from our royalties. A lot of new celebrities end up in debt if they’re not careful. The smart ones share one room and either rent cars or take cabs. Dom’s staying in one of the regular rooms. I’ve gotten to the point where I always get my own, and this time I felt like spoiling us.”

Us. The word made a tendril of heat coil in Shayna’s belly.

With a low growl, Dante pulled her into his arms and trailed hot kisses along her neck. His hot breath blew over her sensitive flesh as he whispered, “Let’s try out that big bed, shall we?”

“Mmm-hhhm,” she murmured, dizzy with desire.

His fingers locked on the waistband of her pants, slowly pulling them down her hips. His lips trailed along every new inch of exposed flesh.

The phone rang.

“Fuck,” Dante said through his teeth.

Just as Shayna had dreaded, Collette’s voice came from the phone when he answered. This time she didn’t sound so dulcet and pretty, either. Whatever she said was rapid-fire and shrill with irritation.

Dante covered the microphone on his cell and laughed. Regaining composure, he told her levelly, “You’re at the wrong White House. That’s in Post Falls. Damn good place, though. I ate there after a show in Spokane a few years back.”

Collette’s tone sharpened, and Shayna was able to hear her say, “Get to the point, Dante!”

Dante chuckled. “Calm down. You just need to head east on I-90, take the Sherman exit, and turn right. It’s an old Victorian mansion, and it’ll be on the right.… Yeah, on the corner of Seventh, I think.”

This time, Shayna couldn’t decipher the response.

“We’re at the resort,” Dante said. “Where are you staying?”

Shayna prayed silently. Please not here. Please not here.

Again, he covered the phone and laughed before speaking again. “I hear that’s a nice place. But could you meet me in a couple hours? We just got into town. Dom’s scoping out the lakes and rivers in the area—you remember his obsession with fishing—and I want to shower and grab something to eat first. Okay, so five-thirty then? Great, I’ll see you there.”

After he hung up, he was still laughing.

Fighting back the urge to prod him about how great it would be to see Collette again, Shayna opted for a safer topic. “There’s another White House in this area?”

“Yeah, it’s a Mediterranean restaurant. If she even walked into the place for a second, she’s going to reek of garlic. No wonder she sounded pissed.” Grabbing Shayna’s wrists, Dante pinned her on the bed. “Now, where were we?”

Just as he bent to kiss her, the phone rang again. They both groaned.

Dante’s weight lifted from her as he got up and grabbed it. “I swear to God, if it’s her again, I’ll—” He glanced at the screen and grinned before answering. “Quinn! What’s up?”

Shayna heard a deep voice talking excitedly.

Dante nodded. “Yeah, we’re in the Jagger suite. The pass-code is 0919.” He set the phone down and sighed. “The groom and best man are coming up to visit.” He kissed Shayna long and hard. “I guess I’ll have to ravish you later.”

Shayna bit back a frustrated whimper and jerked her pants back up. The news that more famous rock stars were on their way up had her hurrying to the bathroom to fix her hair and makeup.

She was just touching up her lip-gloss when there was a knock on the door. Dante’s excited voice rang out as he greeted his visitors.

“Quinn, Klement! Long time, no see.”

Slowly she opened the door to see Dante hugging two men. One was about Dante’s height, with wavy black hair and brilliant green eyes. Shayna had seen him on a magazine cover before. The other was freakishly tall and lean, with blonde hair and blue-green eyes. Both carried themselves with confidence and authority.

“Thank you again for agreeing to do that song with Collette,” the black-haired guy was saying. “I know it must be awkward, but—” He broke off as he saw Shayna. “Oh.”

Dante beckoned her forward. “This is Shayna Gray, historical romance author.” He grinned at Shayna and pointed at the two men. “Shayna, this is Quinn Mayne, lead singer of Viciöus and the groom-to-be. And this is Klement Burke, bassist of Bleeding Vengeance and the best man.”

Shayna offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Congratulations on your wedding.”

Quinn shook her hand with only cursory interest, but Klement stared at her like she was a newly discovered species. “No fucking way! My girlfriend is a huge fan of yours. All she wanted for Valentine’s Day was your latest book. She’s gonna freak when she meets you.” He headed for the door and beckoned for Shayna to follow. “Come on, she just headed down to the spa to meet Kinley and Christine, Quinn’s sister…” He trailed off and gave a gleeful grin. “I can’t wait to see her face!”

“Hold up,” Dante said, laughing, and he turned to Shayna. “Sorry, Klem doesn’t have the best social skills.”

“It’s fine,” Shayna said, chuckling, wondering if she should point out that Dante also often presumed to decide what she was going to do. Really, maybe that could wait for later.

“Is that okay with you, Shayna?” Dante continued. “We guys just have some pre-wedding plans to make before we meet up with Collette. You’d probably have a better time in a spa day with the bride and her friends.”

“Okay,” Shayna said. What else could she do without sounding like a clingy bitch? Besides, getting a spa treatment and meeting a fan really did sound more appealing than being stuck in a hotel room listening to guys talk about things she knew nothing about—and then being left alone while he met with his ex.

“Just charge everything to the room,” Dante told her.

Klement shook his head. “No way, it’s my treat. It’s the least I can do for kidnapping her and dragging her down to meet Kat.”

Dante rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

They all left the room and headed to the elevator.

“So,” Quinn asked, “how did you two meet?”

Dante laughed. “Let’s wait on that. It’s a long, crazy story.”

They all rode the elevator down to the main floor and headed to the spa the back way to avoid the other guests. Four women waited in its lobby. They were all so gorgeous and glowing with happiness that Shayna couldn’t tell which one was the bride.

The shortest woman gave Klement a mischievous grin. “What did you forget this time?”

“Your favorite author.” He nudged Shayna’s elbow.

Blushing like an idiot, Shayna offered her hand to the person who must be Kat. “Hi, I’m Shayna Gray.”

“I’m Katana James, but you can call me Kat.” Then Shayna’s words registered. Kat’s brown eyes widened, but she peered up at Klement she shook Shayna’s hand. “No way! But how?”

Her boyfriend grinned. “She’s with Dante, so I had to bring her down to meet you. Is it okay if she joins your spa day?”

“Are you kidding? This is a dream come true!”

Kat grabbed Shayna’s hand and dragged her over to the other women, Dante trailing behind them. At the same time she asked, “When’s the next book coming out? There are so many hints and set-ups in the last one!”

Dante greeted the other women then gave Shayna a quick kiss. “I’ll meet you up in the room when you’re done.”

After the three men left, Shayna found herself being studied by four pairs of eyes. Kat finally broke the silence with introductions.

“Dude, you guys, this is Shayna Gray, that author I’ve been obsessing over.” She looked at Shayna then introduced her friends, first pointing to the tallest woman, one who had waist-length dark brown hair and an athletic figure. “This is my best friend, Kinley, who’s the lead guitarist of Viciöus and going to be marrying Quinn tomorrow.”

Kat gestured next to an older woman with strawberry blonde hair and a friendly smile. “And this is Tanya. She’s married to Tony, the drummer of Viciöus. Kin and I just met her, but she’s awesome.” She pointed finally to a woman with Quinn’s green eyes and black hair. “And this is Christine, Quinn’s sister, but everyone calls her Chrissy.”

Shayna’s gaze scanned these beautiful, self-assured women who were in the heavy metal world and suddenly wanted more than anything to fit in. Smiling to conceal her nervousness, she waved and managed a murmured, “Hi.”

The women surveyed her curiously, and thankfully with no hostility. All three gave her warm smiles, and Kinley, the bride-to-be, patted the seat next to her. She said, “I guess it’s time to confess that I’ve read all of your books too.”

Kat plopped down in the chair beside her. “Really? After all the crap you flipped me for reading romance? You called it ‘girly fluff’ as I recall.”

“Hey,” Tanya interjected, “I read romance too.” She glanced at Shayna. “Though I haven’t read yours yet, I’d like to.”

“Thank you,” Shayna said. Her mind spun with dizzy amazement that actual rock stars had read her books and enjoyed them. She fought back a bitter laugh. And to think, her mother and husband had convinced her that her writing was just a silly hobby!

Kat went into a gushing description of Shayna’s books until Shayna’s ears were burning in embarrassment and the receptionist at the spa ushered them in for their treatments. There they were led to a locker room to strip and change into terry-cloth robes before each was treated to a mineral spray that left Shayna’s skin tingling. After that, they were rubbed head to toe with a scented exfoliating lotion and massaged until she turned into a puddle.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this girly shit,” Kinley grumbled once their faces were slathered with some sort of goo.

Kat laughed. “It’s okay to be girly once in a while, you know. Especially on your wedding day. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow when they do your makeup and style your hair.”

“No talking,” the spa lady admonished. “The mask needs to dry with your skin relaxed.”

When the facials were completed, Shayna marveled. Not only did the mask and lotions relax her skin, it felt softer and smoother than it had been in ages.

They moved on to the manicures and pedicures, and Kat resumed her chatter. “How did you meet Dante Deity?”

Shayna gave them the edited version, but all four of her companions still gasped.

“I would kill Quinn if he ever did that to me,” Kinley snarled when she heard about Shayna’s ex.

Chrissy shook her head. “Quinn worships the ground you walk on and you know it.” She looked over at Shayna. “And Dante would never pull anything like that. In fact, I hear his ex-wife was the one who cheated on him.”

Tanya nodded. “Then she married the guy, but they divorced six months back.”

Shayna’s stomach lurched. Collette was single? The realization made her shiver.

Kat mirrored her wide-eyed look…then gave her a subtle but firm headshake. The reaction reminded Shayna that Collette’s appearance was supposed to be a surprise, so she rushed to change the subject.

“So, what are you doing for a bachelorette party?”

“This is the party.” Kinley crossed her legs as soon as her pedicure was finished. “After this, we’re just going to hang out. You’re invited, of course.”

Shayna gasped. “Oh, but you should have a party.” She still fondly remembered her own. Even though Shawn’s sister had thrown it, and it was mostly Shawn’s friends’ girlfriends who’d come, Shayna had reveled in the female camaraderie of her bachelorette party. The male stripper hadn’t been too shabby either.

“It’s probably too late for me to find a stripper,” she thought aloud.

Kinley laughed. “I don’t want one anyway. Unless it’s Quinn.”

Chrissy made a face. “Ewww, I don’t want to see my brother naked.” She grinned at Shayna. “Though I’m not opposed to strippers.”

Kinley shook her head. “Nah, I just want to stay here. We only barely got done with our tour. I’m sick of crowds and parties.”

“Oh yeah.” Shayna hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe we could have a little celebration in our suite. It has a little hot tub on a balcony.”

“A little party does sound awesome.” Kinley grinned.

“Let me text Dante and make sure he’s okay with it.” She pulled out her phone and texted him. Would he be okay with it?

As if reading her mind, Kinley leaned forward in her chair. “We can go to ours if he’s not. Quinn and I have a pool in our suite.”

While her nails dried, Shayna waited for interminable tense minutes, trying not to picture Dante with Collette. Finally her phone buzzed and she jumped, almost dropping it. She took a deep breath and clicked on Dante’s response.

Sure, but don’t be mad if the guys and I crash it.

Shayna read the reply aloud, and Kinley laughed. “That’s fine. I don’t believe in that silly segregation shit.” Then she frowned. “You looked nervous. Is Dante really as serious and strict as people say? I’ve only gotten to hang out with him a few times when we toured with him, but Quinn says he’s a dictator.”

Shayna remembered Dante’s irrefutable command for her to get back to writing and smiled. “Sort of, but not in a mean way. I just… I was just relaxed from the massage and the phone startled me.”

Kat gave her a knowing look.

Sure enough, as they left the spa and after Kinley headed back to her room to grab her bathing suit, Kat pulled Shayna aside in the hallway. “You’re worried about Collette, huh.”

Swallowing, Shayna nodded. “She’s so beautiful and…” She shrugged helplessly.

Kat patted her shoulder. “God, I can’t imagine. It’s going to be awkward for you tomorrow, watching them sing that sappy song. If Quinn had known that Dante had a girlfriend…”

“I don’t know if I’m his girlfriend,” Shayna blurted. “He was just helping me out, but then two nights ago we”—she blushed—“slept together.”

Ugh. Why couldn’t she phrase these things as eloquently as she did in her books?

Kat nodded, her brown eyes warm and compassionate. “I’ve been there before. The uncertainty’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

Even though Shayna daydreamed about a happy future for her and Dante, she knew that real life wasn’t a romance novel.

Chapter Fourteen

Dante allowed Klement to have shotgun in Quinn’s Escalade and sat in the back seat. Unfortunately, the six-block drive to the White House was too short to brace himself for seeing Collette. She’d told him she’d never sing again the last time they’d spoken, refusing to say why. He’d called her a traitor, which was admittedly harsher than she probably deserved, and she’d called him a cold-hearted bastard. And now they were going to sing together and give off a performance that conveyed romance.

Quinn interrupted Dante’s pondering. “So, how’d you end up with a romance author?”

Dante dodged the question. “Some romance authors like metal.”

Klement gave him a wry look, but Quinn eyed him in the rearview mirror and shrugged. “Well, she’s pretty cute, anyway. So I guess there’s no chance of a reconciliation with Collette then? I’d wondered if that was why you both agreed to this.”

“There wouldn’t be a chance either way. Shayna has nothing to do with it.” His voice came out harsher than he intended.

“All right, it’s cool, man.” Quinn ran a hand through his hair. “Except, now I feel like an ass for arranging for you to sing with your ex-wife. Having your new girlfriend there will be awkward for you guys.”

“It’s fine,” Dante said firmly. “This is a romantic song perfect for a romantic wedding, and your bride’s favorite. It will be about you and Kinley, not Collette and me. I’m just surprised Collette agreed to do it. She couldn’t have blown through her alimony this quick.”

“She’s doing it for free,” Quinn said. “Even though I offered a big chunk of change, she refused, just like you did. That surprised me, since I never got to know her well when you two were together.”

Dante was too shocked to respond. It wasn’t like Collette to perform for free. She had only done so for a few charities that she really believed in; they’d had countless arguments over which were worth it. A wedding was not a charity, so what was her motive?

The Escalade pulled into the driveway of the antique white mansion, and Dante froze as a thought occurred. What if she really did want to get back together? That was the last thing he needed to deal with right now.

As Dante got out of the Escalade, a rental Mercedes pulled up behind them and a pair of long, tanned legs swung out of the driver’s seat. He used to love those legs.

Collette walked toward him, her expression unreadable beneath mirrored sunglasses. Her golden hair sparkled in the dappling light through the trees, a goddess come down to Earth. Some people in the restaurant parking lot across the street had noticed her. A few pointed, recognition lighting their gazes. Cell phones emerged from pockets to take pictures.

“Dante,” Collette said in that sultry voice that used to give him chills. Now he felt nothing but exhaustion and a touch of suspicion.

“Collette. Thank you for doing this with me.”

“Of course.” She inclined her head toward the house. “It’s a beautiful venue. Shall we go in and see where we’ll set up?”

He nodded and looked to Quinn to lead the way. The sooner they were out of range of those cameras, the better. Though it was probably too late. The only time he ended up in the tabloids was when he was with Collette. Now that they were divorced, the coverage would be even more sensational.

The owner of the venue greeted them and led them into a cozy yet opulent manor with antique furnishings, hardwood floors, and damask wallpaper. A small raised platform was set up by the wide picture window, already loaded with amps and microphones.

Dante, Klement, and Collette examined the equipment on the platform. The microphones were tolerable, but both he and Collette winced at the quality of the PA system.

Klement looked at them with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’ve got the PAs and amps covered. We’ll also get an additional one for Dom’s keyboard.”

The owner gave them a wary frown. “It won’t be too loud, will it?”

“We won’t violate the noise ordinance,” Klement said simply, a tiny impish spark visible in his blue-green eyes. Dante bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. They’d certainly push it to the limit.

The woman nodded. “Good. Now I must speak with the planner about the catering.”

As soon as the set list was recounted and the equipment inspected, Dante practically jogged out of the mansion with the rest of the guys. He didn’t want to spend any more time with his ex than necessary. He wanted Shayna again.

Just when he thought he was home free, Collette placed a hand on his arm. “Dante, may I speak with you a moment?”

He wanted to refuse. Instead, he gave her a brisk nod and allowed her to lead him to the gazebo in the center of the manicured lawn. If she thought for a second that she could waltz back into his life she had another thing—

“I’m ready to get back into music,” she said.

His jaw dropped. “What?” This was almost as insane. Admittedly, he still felt relieved she didn’t want to get back together.

Collette nodded, blue eyes wide and pleading. “Yes, I miss singing, the stage lights, the creation. I need—”

Date cut her off. “Do you really think it’ll be that easy to get back on stage after you abandoned your fans? Not to mention your agent and the producers and record company you bailed on? Are you even done paying off the lawsuit for all of those concerts people paid for?” Fury at the betrayal of her fans and colleagues rose anew. He’d never expected her to pull the same stunt that his childhood hero had. Just like he’d never expected it from Rage of Angels.

She shook her head, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “No, I don’t. That’s why I want you to help me.”

He glared at her. “What the hell do you think I can do?”

Her lower lip quivered, but she held his gaze. “You’re one of the most respected and influential people in the industry. You know people. And those people listen to you.”

She had a point. Still… “They’ll stop listening to me if I recommend they take back an unreliable artist. Especially if you bail again.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Collette reached for him. “Please, Dante?”

The desperation in her gaze held him captive. He sighed, remembering how he’d freaked out on Shayna when he found out she was an author and how her writer’s block had stemmed from grief. Maybe Shayna was right and something had happened to Collette as well. And she didn’t really owe him an explanation.

“I’ll think about it.”

“What’d she want?” Klement asked when Dante climbed back into the Escalade.

Dante shook his head. “Nothing, just asking about a few colleagues she lost touch with.” He knew how Klement would react to the news that Collette wanted to make a comeback. The bassist did not look kindly on unreliability of any kind.

To his relief, Quinn changed the subject. “I’m glad that’s over. After tomorrow I’ll never have to deal with that coordinator again. I knew I should have taken Chrissy up on the offer to handle her.” He fired up the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. “But now we have a bachelorette party to crash.”

Klement stroked his chin. “Although I’m delighted at the prospect, are we sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course,” Quinn said. “Kinley thinks segregating parties is sexist.”

The bassist smirked. “Or maybe she’s worried we’ll go to a tittie bar.”

Quinn chuckled. “That too.”

“But what if they got a stripper?” Worry crept into the bassist’s voice.

Quinn grinned. “Then we’ll pay him for his troubles and send him out the door.”

Klement rubbed his hands together. “I like this plan.”

Dante did too. He called Dom to see if he wanted to come, but the keyboard player declined, sounding genuinely terrified at the idea of attending a bachelorette party. He was almost as bashful as Shayna, who was so shy that he was curious to see how she was handling tough, energetic women like Kinley and Kat. Tanya and Chrissy also looked like they had wild streaks of their own.

Any worries he might have had fled the moment they entered his suite and heard giddy, feminine laughter and beheld Shayna’s sparkling grin as she handed something to a blindfolded Kinley. His eyebrow rose. Was that a poster of a naked man on the wall? And what was that in Shayna’s hand? It looked like a…

Kat’s voice made him turn. “I’m so glad you guys made it! Do you want to play ‘Pin the cock on the—?”

“No!” Dante, Quinn, Tony, and Klement chorused.

Shayna laughed. “How about some of this?” She held up a platter with a giant pink-frosted phallus cake.

“No!” they repeated firmly.

Kinley laughed before lifting her blindfold. “You guys are no fun.” She turned back to the poster that was covered with multiple dicks. “Damn, I missed again! This time I got him in the eye! Your turn, Shayna. I need another beer.”

Dante couldn’t stop smiling as he watched her laughing and enjoying herself with the others. Shayna had been able to handle his band’s crudeness, and she seemed to be getting along with Kat and Kinley. And he toured with Bleeding Vengeance and Viciöus fairly often. Maybe he’d been worried for no good reason about…

Quinn passed him a beer, and he bit back a startled laugh. Only a month ago Shayna had been a homeless, unconscious woman in his arms. Now he was pondering a serious relationship? It was ridiculous. Flat out insane.

And yet he liked the idea more and more every day.

As the celebration continued, Dante barely paid attention to the conversations around him. He was far too occupied watching Shayna. She’d changed into that tantalizing blue bikini she was wearing in the pool when he first asked her out to dinner, and sat with the other women in the hot tub, sipping a glass of wine and occasionally peeking at him with one of her sexy shy smiles.

Tony and Tanya made excuses and left for their room. As they did, Quinn followed Dante’s gaze to the hot tub. He said, “It’s not fair. We all can’t fit in there with the ladies.”

“Dude,” Klement laughed. “We have the same hot tub in our suite, and you and Kinley have a pool.”

Dante gave them both a pointed glance. “That’s right.”

Quinn paused for a moment then nodded. “Right. And”—he winked—“we shouldn’t stay here too late. I don’t want to be hung over for my own wedding.”

Klement toasted him with his coffee. “Then don’t drink.”

Quinn gave him the finger, went out to the balcony and got Kinley out of the hot tub. He bundled her into one of the resort’s terrycloth robes, and the pair gave quick high-fives goodbye before heading out the door. Chrissy, Quinn’s little sister, climbed out of the hot tub with a disappointed frown, clearly not wanting the party to be over.

Klement laughed as she headed for the door. “He has his hands full with that girl. She wants to do her master’s thesis on band dynamics, and she keeps asking bands is she can tag along on the road with them so she can study them. Quinn keeps asking them to tell her no. I’m really half tempted to let her come with us. It’d piss her brother off, but at least I could keep an eye on her. Unless she’s already asked you?”

Dante shook his head. “She’s scared of me.”

Klement laughed. “Man, we’re all a little scared of you. You’re a goddamned legend. The first time we opened for you, I was so awestruck I don’t think I said more than two words to you.”

Dante shrugged. “I’d let her tag along on my next tour, except there’s a few things I want to see work out first.”

Klement followed his gaze to Shayna then nodded. “I think Kat and I will take off, too. We’ll see ya back at the venue for sound check and rehearsal tomorrow. Oh, and don’t forget to tell Shayna to do what she can to make sure Kat catches the bouquet. Even if she has to swat it at her like a volleyball.”

Moments later, everyone was gone and Dante finally had Shayna to himself. Just how he wanted her.

He strode out onto the balcony, stripping off his clothes with every step. He’d forgotten swim trunks, so his boxer briefs would have to do. From the hot tub, Shayna’s gaze roved over his body in undisguised fascination, and the open, guileless admiration in those wide blue eyes made his breath catch. Sinking into the blissfully hot water, he pulled her into his arms, savoring the feel of her wet flesh pressed against him.

“Mmmm,” she moaned as he kissed her neck.

Hot jets bubbled around them as Dante caressed her breasts through the scant material of her bathing suit. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and her hot center melded to his aching hardness, only thin layers of fabric separating them.

He had the animalistic urge to tear off her bikini bottom and plunge inside of her right then and there. Only the fact that he didn’t want someone with binoculars in one of the many boats on the lake to watch stopped him. At least this town was so secluded that he didn’t have to worry about paparazzi.

Instead, he kissed and caressed Shayna until she panted and moaned with raw need. No music sounded sweeter. Carefully, Dante lifted her out of the hot tub and carried her back into the suite. She shivered as the cool air whispered over her water-beaded skin, and Dante kissed every inch of exposed flesh as he peeled off her suit.

Shayna’s trembling fingers slid into the waistband of his soaked boxer briefs and pulled them down. Dante sucked in a breath at the unrepentant hunger in her gaze. His erection sprang free, and he gasped as her delicate fingers curled around his throbbing shaft. With tentative shyness she explored his body like she’d never touched a man before.

Suddenly, the moment felt sacred. The observation made his chest tighten.

As if sensing his scrutiny, Shayna peered up at him through her lashes, cheeks delightfully rosy. “I’ve never done it with so many lights on. And you’re just, well, beautiful.”

Her fingertips caressed the sensitive tip with a feather-light touch, and his cock hardened further. She’d make him come if she kept it up.

With a low growl, Dante scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He rolled over so that she was on top, straddling his hips and purred, “I like having the lights on. That way I can watch your face when you come.”

Her blush intensified until her entire body was encompassed with a rosy glow. For a moment, Dante froze in awe at the sight of her glorious body, those high, taut breasts, her slim waist, those exquisite legs, the faint silver scars on her hips that she’d borne to bring life into the world, and that little treasure between her thighs. She was a banquet for his eyes and he was starved for her.

Gripping her hip with one hand to make sure she didn’t move, he reached into the bedside table drawer where he’d already stashed the condoms. He grabbed one, but before he put it on, he rubbed the tip of his cock along her clit, reveling in her wetness, which intensified as she gasped and squirmed.

Finally, when he thought he’d die if he didn’t get inside her, Dante rolled on the condom, lifted her hips, and lowered her onto his shaft. He watched her face as he slid inside her inch by inch: the way her breath hitched, her pupils dilating, those lush lips parted with a sigh of pleasure…

Shayna arched back, her tightness gripping him with blissful completion.

“Yes, ride me,” Dante hissed through his teeth.

She moved in a rolling rhythm that made them both shudder. Dante gazed up at her, drinking in the sight of her dark silken hair sweeping her shoulders. He couldn’t refrain from reaching out to touch her. One hand caressed those small, perfect breasts, the other gripped her firm little ass, guiding himself even deeper.

He watched her blushes and bit back a growl, her heavy-lidded gaze filled with an entrancing combination of shyness and heat, her lips parting with sighs and moans of pleasure. Electric ecstasy filled him at the sight of her open passion, completely without pretense, and as the tempo of their mating quickened, Shayna threw back her head and closed her eyes.

No, Dante shouted in his mind, look at me! He wanted to see her face when she came.

But then he felt her clench on his cock. The universe exploded into unfathomable bliss as his own climax came pouring forth, and a white haze obscured his vision as their voices and bodies melded into pure liquid heat.

Shayna collapsed on top of him, gasping and trembling as her body continued to spasm against his. Dante held her tight, not wanting this sublime feeling of oneness to go away just yet. His fingers threaded through her silken hair, and a sigh of pure contentment escaped his lips.

It took every vestige of his will to finally leave her embrace and clean up. Not bothering to get new boxers, he got back into bed naked and gathered her in his arms. Claiming her lips in a hungry kiss, Dante savored her taste and the feel of her in his embrace, so fragile and yet so potent.

Incandescent wisps of their future flitted through his dreams. Could they ever be tangible?

As they drifted off to sleep, he knew he was nowhere near ready to let her go.

Chapter Fifteen

Shayna stretched languorously as Dante kissed her awake.

“It’s time to get ready for the wedding,” his velvety voice rumbled beneath her ear. “We have to show up a couple hours early for the sound check and rehearsal.”

Sound check. The word woke her like a splash of ice water. The sound check for Collette and Dante’s love song. “What time are we leaving?”

“In about two hours,” he answered, rolling out of the bed.

“Oh, good. I have a hair appointment in a half hour.” Shayna wanted to look as good as possible for the wedding—and before coming face to face with Dante’s ex. Shame coiled in her belly at her jealousy and insecurity, but she couldn’t help it. She darted to the luxurious waterfall shower, wishing she could take a bubble bath in the giant jetted tub instead.

Dante echoed her sentiment. “I wish we had time for me to join you.”

At least she and the other women had soaked in the hot tub to their hearts’ content last night. Though, Shayna wished she could try out the hot tub with Dante. Or this magnificent waterfall shower—which she enjoyed so much she was almost late to her hair appointment.

The moment she plopped into the seat, the stylist groaned over her split ends and neglectful regimen, but the complaints and product sales pitches Shayna endured were worth it because the woman in the mirror at the end looked more like a famous actress than a dowdy writer. Even more gratifying was the look on Dante’s face after she put on her dress and makeup. He’d been to a barber or something, with his long curly hair trimmed and shining, and his face so smoothly shaved that she had the urge to rub her cheek on his.

All worth it.

They met up with Dom and rode in the resort limo, and for a moment Shayna again imagined that she was a rock star too.

The daydream shattered when they stopped at a gorgeous white Victorian mansion and she saw Collette stepping out of an even sleeker limo with a snobbier-looking driver than theirs. She was even more elegantly coifed and couture, with upswept golden hair and a shimmering ice blue gown. Despite her fancy garb and salon treatment, Shayna suddenly felt awkward and gauche. She took a deep breath and prayed her hands weren’t sweaty as Dante helped her out of the car and led her over to his ex-wife. She cast a glance at Dom, who’d unloaded his keyboard and was already carrying it into the house, wishing she could follow.

“I’m glad you made it on time,” Dante said, though thankfully he didn’t sound glad.

Collette nodded and locked sapphire blue eyes on Shayna, giving her a look that was either curiosity or something else that Shayna didn’t want to dwell on. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Her southern accent trickled over Shayna like warm honey. Or maybe cold honey.

Dante put his arm around Shayna and nudged her forward. “This is Shayna Gray. She’s an author.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Shayna stammered, suddenly hating her stilted and bland voice that lacked an interesting accent.

Something in the pop star’s eyes dimmed. Then her lips stretched into a fake smile. “You’re an author? Oh, how delightful.” A nobody, her tone said. Her gaze flicked dismissively past Shayna and back to Dante. “Shall we go inside and rehearse?”

Dante nodded. He released Shayna, leaving her bereft and aching, and Shayna frowned as Collette positioned herself so close to Dante’s side that Shayna had to walk behind them. At least Dante looked over his shoulder at Shayna and rolled his eyes apologetically.

Klement, Kat, Tony, and Dom were already on the raised dais that served as a stage, setting up their instruments. All four musicians gave Shayna and Dante broad smiles, ignoring Collette. Shayna couldn’t suppress a twinge of glee at that. Yet once Dante and Collette mounted the stage and positioned themselves behind microphone stands that were painfully close together, her wisp of solidarity with the others vanished; they all resembled gods, high above the reach of mere mortals like herself.

Tanya and Chrissy entered the room and stood beside Shayna as Kat strummed the first notes on her guitar along to Dom’s opening melody on his keyboard. Collette’s angelic voice trilled out. Dante joined her in the next verse, their voices blending like lost souls reuniting. Melding together like a sublime elixir.

As the two sang, they stared into each other’s eyes. Their bodies swayed in tandem as if fighting the inches that separated them, and Shayna’s gut knotted painfully. Her chest tightened until she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t sing. She could never share something like this with Dante, and surely a union through music was deeper than anything she’d ever be capable of.

Chrissy’s voice broke through her pain. “Well, this has to be uncomfortable for you.”

Shayna bit her lip, trying to blink away the spots in her vision. The lump in her throat made it nearly impossible to speak. “A little.”

Tanya nodded and leaned over to whisper, “They’re not together anymore. Remember that. This is just a display. Take a look at the bass player and guitarist. That’s what real love looks like.”

When Shayna managed to tear her eyes from Collette and Dante, she saw Klement and Kat strumming the melody on their guitars and she was taken aback by the way they also moved together, the way their eyes constantly met with tangible flickers of heat. Tony, too, kept stealing glances at Tanya over his massive drum kit. It seemed all of these couples were smitten.

“Klement really loves her,” Shayna said softly, managing a smile as she looked back at Tanya. “Is he really expecting everyone to dodge out of the way and let Kat catch the bouquet?

Chrissy giggled. “Yeah. He’s going to pop the question any day. Don’t tell her, but Kinley, Tanya, and I have a betting pool going on.”

For the rest of the song, Shayna focused on Klement and Kat instead of Dante and Collette’s soulful display. It was only a display, right? Still, her taut muscles relaxed as Dante left the stage and returned to her side.

But then Kat played a sultry tune, and Collette’s exquisite voice soared up into another song. The small audience froze and stared at her, rapt, those liquid notes flowing over them like molten chocolate. Shayna’s stomach squirmed again, and her limbs turned to water. The beauty of Collette’s voice gave her goose bumps. How could Dante have let such an unearthly goddess go? Stranger yet, what was he now doing with a mousy nerd like Shayna?

As if sensing her turmoil, Dante grabbed her hand and held it tight. A measure of her anxiety ebbed away. His thumb grazed her knuckles, moving in a soothing circle as if he knew she needed comfort. Shayna basked in that solace, falling for him even more with every stroke despite the danger of losing her heart to someone like him.

The song ended, and Shayna applauded, genuinely impressed no matter how she felt about the singer. Collette bowed and left the stage. Dante gave Shayna’s hand another squeeze before returning to the spotlight. He walked from Kat to Klement to Tony, whispering something to each before he approached the microphone. Then he announced, “We wanted to do a new song, but we don’t have it quite right yet so we’re doing a different one. This one’s an oldie, but I hope you still enjoy it.”

Kat began to play a soft melody, and the rest of the band joined in. Dante’s gaze met Shayna’s, and he began to sing, his voice pure, sweet bliss. Shayna’s pulse throbbed in remembrance even as the intent look in his eyes compelled an inescapable memory. It was “Catch the Rainbow,” the song he’d sung to her that first night to chase away her nightmare, the beautiful song she couldn’t believe had been real.

Dante’s eyes imprisoned hers. He wanted her to remember, just as he wanted it to be clear that he was now singing only to her. The poignancy of the moment brought tears to her eyes, and Dante became a blurry archangel—but his voice remained clear, each note lifting her higher, carrying her away from her troubles.

He and the others played two more songs before leaving the stage, as guests had begun filing in. Collette went upstairs to hide from the bride, chatting softly with Tanya and Kat, who were leaving to change into their bridesmaid gowns.

Dante touched Shayna’s elbow. “I need to go up with the band. Would you like to come too, or do you want to stay here and watch?”

“I’ll stay here.” Not only did she not want to stand there like an outsider while the musicians did their thing, she was genuinely curious to see everything. What would a heavy metal wedding be like? What would Kinley wear? She didn’t strike Shayna as a traditional bride.

“Okay,” Dante said. “I’ll see you soon.” He gave her a gentle kiss and left with Klement and Tony.

Shayna sat and watched a female minister arrive. After the seats filled, Quinn entered the room, followed by Klement and Tony. Both Quinn and Klement had their guitars slung over their shoulders, and Tony was twirling drumsticks in the air as they all approached the dais. Reaching their positions and grinning at the minister, they began a rhythmic, steady riff as Kat and the bridesmaids came in. Kat also carried her guitar, looking strangely ethereal with her cream-colored strapless dress. She picked up the melody that Quinn and Klement played and then everyone lapsed into the wedding march.

An answering melody trilled from across the room. Everyone turned to see the bride. She wore a full-skirted crimson wedding gown, playing her guitar as she approached her groom. A little girl in a matching red dress led her, scattering red rose petals. Only one man frowned as Kinley passed, and Shayna guessed that it was her father. Kinley had said she would be giving herself away, not wanting to bow down to patriarchal standards.

Shayna shook her head. She couldn’t help but admire Kinley for insisting on choosing how her wedding went. Shayna’s uncle had given her away, a man she’d met only twice before, and Shawn’s family had organized the whole thing. If Shayna were ever to remarry, she wanted to decide exactly what kind of wedding she wanted.

In awe she watched as Kinley and Quinn met, their fingers moving in blurs along the necks of their guitars in an impossibly furious melody. Finally, when their mixed guitar solo faded away, the minister smiled and began a short, sweet ceremony. At the end she pronounced them husband and wife.

Quinn and Kinley turned and shared a kiss so passionate and tender that Shayna almost felt guilty watching. Her wedding had been nothing like this.

Dante and Collette made their way onstage, and Kinley gasped in shock. Then, unbelievably, she turned and found Shayna with her eyes, clearly concerned. Shayna hurried to smile and give her a knowing nod, assuring the bride it was all okay. And, actually, watching Dante and Collette perform their song was more tolerable the second time, the wedding atmosphere reinforcing that the passionate mood and longing lyrics weren’t about them.

After Collette left the stage, Dante did his “Catch the Rainbow” cover, staring at Shayna the entire time. Only for a fleeting moment did she wonder why Collette hadn’t done the other song she rehearsed, but then her eyes and ears were Dante’s alone. And when he took his bow and crossed the room to sit by her side, Shayna’s heart swelled with warmth.

Everyone soon filed out of their chairs to join the receiving line, and Shayna felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned and almost gasped when she saw it was Collette. The pop star’s pale blue eyes studied her intently without giving anything away.

“Shayna, right?”

“Yes?” Shayna nodded cautiously.

“Can I talk to you for a moment in private?”

The pop star’s voice sounded shaky, and too startled to do anything else Shayna gave her another tentative nod. “Um, okay.”

Collette led her up the stairs and into one of the White House’s old bedrooms. From the mirrors and hangers and Kinley’s discarded clothes it seemed to have been used as a dressing room. The pop star sat in one of two antique chintz chairs and gestured for Shayna to take the other.

A hundred speculations about what Collette would say roared through Shayna’s mind: “Go away. Dante and I are getting back together.” “Stay away from my man.” “Oh, you think you can date a rock star? How cute.” What the singer actually said nearly made Shayna fall out of her seat.

“I overheard the other women talking about what happened to you.” Her sonorous voice held an undercurrent of some familiar sorrow.

Shayna blinked. “Excuse me?”

“That your baby died.” Collette’s eyes glimmered with genuine compassion. “I am so sorry. I had a miscarriage, myself, and I completely fell apart.”

Shayna’s chest tightened in sympathetic agony. “Oh…that’s terrible. Is that why…?” She trailed off, not wanting to be rude. And it would be even more rude to ask if the child had been Dante’s.

“Why I quit singing?” Collette said pointedly. “Yes. When I finally convinced Michael to start a family, I intended on taking a hiatus. But I lost the baby only three months after I got pregnant, and I also lost the will for…well, everything.”

The pop star sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, a surprisingly human gesture given her image. “All Michael cared about was me getting back to work. My producer and record company were the same. They wouldn’t understand my refusal. But…how could I sing? How could I want to prance around on stage in a skimpy outfit when my heart was breaking?”

Shayna thrust aside her relief that it wasn’t Dante’s baby and nodded, remembering her editor, agent, and readers clamoring for the next book when she could barely muster the will to get out of bed. “I completely understand.”

“I know,” Collette said flatly. “That’s why I told you.”

“Okay.” Shayna’s mind continued to spin in confusion. Sure, she understood the pain of losing a child, but so did other women—likely even women who weren’t complete strangers, especially one who wasn’t involved with Collette’s ex-husband. “But why did you tell me? I mean, as far as I’ve heard, nobody knows.”

Not even Dante.

“Because you went through something even worse.” Collette met Shayna’s gaze, her lower lip trembling. “I lost mine when I was three months along. I can’t imagine how awful it would be to carry my baby full-term, give birth, get to hold him and feed him and tuck him in at night, only to wake up one morning and find him dead in his crib.”

Shayna closed her eyes, drowning in memories. She barely heard Collette’s next words.

“Yet somehow I hear you got back to your writing. I read online that your next book comes out in eight months.” Her voice broke, and the pop star took a shuddering breath. “How did you do it?”

It was more of a demand than a question, and Shayna looked up. “Do what?”

“How did you get back to writing?” Collette leaned forward until Shayna could see the fine granules of her face powder. “How did you not have a breakdown and give up?”

“Actually, I did, but I don’t want to go into those details.”

Collette sighed and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief that had materialized from her designer handbag. “I understand. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve done. But…you’re back to writing now. How did you make it past the grief? I want to get back into music and, well, I’ll take any advice I can get.”

Shayna nodded, please. So this was what Collette had been talking with Dante about. And that was probably why she’d agreed to do this performance for free, too. Relief filled her that Collette wasn’t trying to hook back up with Dante, quickly followed by guilt for suspecting something so petty.

She smiled at the singer. “I actually didn’t do anything. Dante did.”

Collette snorted. “What, did he make you? He thinks he can ride out of the sunset and save the day by bossing people around. Like he’s some kind of white knight or something.”

Shayna giggled despite herself. Yes, Dante could be bossy, but he had saved her in more ways than one. “I actually kind of like that about him. The knight part. Not so much his bossiness—though sometimes that helps too. After all, I did get back on track with my writing.” A smile tugged at her lips. “My next book hero is a minstrel knight.”

The singer burst out laughing. “That figures. Maybe there’s hope for you being able to handle him. I sure couldn’t. All of his causes got tiring.”

“Did you ever discuss babies when you two were married?” Shayna blurted.

Wait. What had possessed her to ask that? Surely she wasn’t considering… Her cheeks flamed.

Collette shook her head. “With his workaholic tendencies and constant obsession with furthering our careers? I didn’t dare think about it. Plus, we barely even spoke after the first six months of our marriage. Our tour schedules didn’t line up, and when he was home, he was always working. I got lonely. Michael was there for me, though.” Bitterness crept into her voice. “At least back then.”

“Dante blames himself for your marriage not working out,” Shayna said quietly.

“As well he should,” Collette replied, matter of fact. “But that’s all water under the bridge. He can make it up if he can get an agent to speak to me. And thank you for talking with me.”

“You’re welcome, though I’m not sure I was very helpful. The only advice I have is that if you really love doing something you need to force yourself to get started again. That’s the hardest part. It gets easier when you get your groove back.” Shayna looked down at the floor. “And maybe you can, um, channel your pain through your music? It worked for my writing anyway.”

She’d decided to make her heroine a wealthy widow who’d lost both her previous marriage and child due to an illness.

“Yes, I’d thought of that,” Collette said. “When I first started out, other people wrote my songs. But Dante started to teach me how to write my own, and I think I can do it. I have an idea…”

Tremulous excitement reverberated from the pop star, and Shayna couldn’t help but be happy for her. She herself knew that feeling whenever she came up with a book plot or a perfectly matched hero and heroine.

“I’m sure you can,” she said. “Your talent hasn’t vanished.”

She met Collette’s gaze and found herself amazed. She’d wanted to hate Dante’s ex-wife. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? Instead, all she felt was compassionate understanding and a genuine hope for the woman to succeed.

Collette stood. “I’m glad I had the chance to speak with you. Now we’d best head back to the party. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dante’s looking for you. The man watches you like a hawk. I’ve never seen him like that before.”

A warm thrill went through Shayna at that. Could she and Dante actually have something permanent together? Or would his attention dwindle away?

Shayna shook off the thoughts. She was being stupid. She’d only been with Dante for a month. She was supposed to be just a “project” to him. Just because they were now having a fling didn’t mean it could lead into anything serious. It really didn’t.

Yet, part of her couldn’t help but long for more.

Chapter Sixteen

When he was done congratulating the couple, Dante searched the room for Shayna. Her absence from his side was a palpable thing, making his chest writhe with some unidentifiable feeling—the need to see her again.

Protective concern also welled up within his gut. He’d seen how shy and uncomfortable she looked among strangers. At least she’d warmed up with Kinley, Kat, and the others. Still, it must be wretchedly uncomfortable for her to be in the presence of his ex-wife. Dante hadn’t missed Shayna’s intimidated glances at Collette. He prayed she didn’t think that he had any interest in reconciling.

As if conjured by the thought, Shayna emerged down the stairs—with Collette behind her. Dante blinked in surprise. What had they been talking about? His brows drew together. If Collette had been trying to intimidate Shayna or play catty games with her, he’d…

Collette gave him an unreadable smile before strolling past to speak with the bride and groom.

“What was that about?” he asked Shayna, trying not to sound too worried.

She gave him a vaguely guilty look before she shrugged. “Just girl-talk.”

She didn’t look like Collette had intimidated her, but a pensive line formed between her eyebrows. He wanted to press further, but then it came time to toss the bouquet.

True to their word, everyone acted determined for Kat to catch the bouquet. The women batted the bouquet towards her like a wacky game of badminton, and Dante grinned as he watched Shayna almost fall over laughing.

Kat got her revenge for being singled out, though. When Quinn tossed the garter, the men dove away from it like it was a live grenade, leaving Klement alone on the floor. But he just picked it up with a grin, strode across the room, and gave Kat a big kiss.

They all headed outside for the wedding photos. Shayna stuck close to Dante’s side, smiling as the photographers crowded around Kinley and Quinn, directing them in various poses. Collette appeared on his other side with a wistful smile.

Suddenly, more photographers strode onto the manicured lawn. Far more than usual for a normal wedding. They snapped a few shots of the bride and groom before turning to take pictures of…Dante and Collette. Dante’s gaze whipped over to his ex-wife in disgust as he saw the press badges.

“Oh shit,” he said to her. “How’d the fucking paparazzi find us all the way up here?” He frowned at the lack of surprise on her face. “You tipped them off, didn’t you?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “I thought a little publicity would help me, but I’d given them a later time for the wedding.” Her brows drew together in irritation. “They weren’t supposed to be here so soon.”

“Oh?” Dante snapped. “Which time zone did you use?”

Inviting the press to her first public appearance in over a year was a good strategy, he reluctantly admitted. However, it was also rude and inconsiderate to the bride and groom, and Dante’s frown deepened as he felt Shayna trembling next to him. It didn’t surprise him that she’d be intimidated by the press. Authors were known to be introverts.

Honestly, he didn’t care for the media attention either. Not anymore. That was part of the reason he’d gradually begun avoiding going out with Collette when they were married. She attracted cameras like flies to honey.

Collette beamed at the press as their cameras fired off like machine guns. He heard Shayna suck in a breath, and he forced a smile so fake it hurt his jaw.

“You do realize they’re now going to speculate that we’re back together, right?” he asked his ex.

Shayna cringed.

“Oh,” Collette said, completely unrepentant. “I hadn’t considered that.”

Dante growled through his smile, “Damn it, Collette.”

“Shake my hand,” Collette hissed under her breath.

Dante’s feigned cheer faltered. He blinked at her in confusion. “What?”

She beamed serenely at the cameras as she spoke through glistening white teeth. “Lovers don’t give each other handshakes.”

Understanding dawned, and Dante took her hand and pumped it once like they’d just made a business deal. The cameras flashed.

“Good,” Collette said coolly. “Now give Shayna a big kiss.”

She was a genius.

He turned to Shayna and whispered, “Is that all right with you?”

Her eyes were large and scared, and camera flashes reflected in her pupils like lightning bolts, yet still she nodded. So Dante gently pulled Shayna into his arms and squeezed her tight before claiming her lips in a devouring kiss. She trembled, and a low moan vibrated in her throat. Despite the posturing, desire roared through his body.

The cameras continued going off while the reporters began shouting questions. Dante dragged his mouth from Shayna’s, his mind struggling to form some professional response.

“Collette!” a voice rang out. “Is it true that you’re poised for a comeback?”

Collette gave them a mysterious smile that rivaled the Mona Lisa’s. “I only came to do Dante’s and my song for Quinn Mayne and Kinley Black’s wedding, but we’ll see what the future holds. It felt so wonderful to perform again. It made me think of all the fans I abandoned. I miss them.”

“Dante!” another reporter shouted. “Who’s the mystery woman?”

Before he could answer, Collette did. “That’s Shayna Gray, the romance author!” she told them cheerfully. “Don’t they look darling together?”

The reporters turned on Shayna. She shrank away, trying to hide behind Dante, and he held her tight, every instinct dedicated to protecting her. His words were clipped with the effort not to roar at the invasive reporters. “She’s not used to you guys. Could you please back off?”

To hell with the reception dinner. He would get them the hell out of there. Quinn and Kinley would understand.

Gripping Shayna’s hand, he led her toward their waiting limo. He gave Quinn an apologetic look. As expected, his friend nodded knowingly.

“Have you read her books, Mr. Deity?” one of the reporters asked, shoving his microphone forward as they tried to move past.

“I have. They’re very good.” He knew he would come under fire for admitting to reading romance novels, but it was better him than Shayna. Besides, he’d quit giving a damn what people thought of him a long time ago.

The two of them reached the car, and the driver opened the door, ushering a grateful Shayna into the backseat. Dante followed.

Shayna’s face was still bloodless as the limo drove away. She whispered, “Oh, my God, that was awful! How do you guys stand that?”

You’ll have to learn to stand it if you’re going to stay with me, Dante worried silently. And I want you to stay.

Aloud he said, “It’s not so bad. It’s the actors and pop stars like Collette who really get harassed.” He squeezed her hand and changed the subject. “Well, since we missed the wedding dinner, would you like to check out the other White House?”

Shayna nodded and gave him a forced smile. “That sounds great.”

It was. The darkly-lit, eccentrically decorated Mediterranean restaurant seemed to have a calming effect on her. Her lips quirked at the intentionally crooked pictures on the cream-colored walls, and she even laughed when the servers passed out flashlights so they could read the menu because the owner insisted on dimming the lights and dancing around the tables. Only one group of fans approached, and they were just two wealthy couples on a double date. One of the men, in an Armani suit, and who, despite his long black hair did not seem to be much of a metal-head, offered with a mild Scottish accent to pay for their dinner as his wife stared at Dante with hero worship in her deep purple eyes. Dante hesitated, only to have the other man protest with an even thicker Romanian accent while his red-haired wife gave Dante a sympathetic smile. After Dante signed two autographs—one made out to an Akasha, the other to Razvan—he and Shayna were left in peace.

They devoured their appetizer of deep-fried feta, and the tremble in Shayna’s hands disappeared. However, she remained quiet, deep in thought, and Dante longed to penetrate the shell she’d erected, but he didn’t want to be forceful.

When they returned to the resort, a few fans waited in the lobby. After the previous hullaballoo, it wasn’t hard to guess where a celebrity was staying in a small town like this. Doubtless they were also lying in wait to bother Kinley, Quinn, and the rest. No wonder Collette had booked a different hotel.

Dom passed by then, wearing his favorite fishing hat and carrying a tacklebox, clearly having escaped the wedding reception as fast as possible. The fans didn’t spare him a glance as he gave Dante a pitying look and made a beeline for the elevators.

Dante’s fans exchanged wary looks with Shayna, sizing each other up.

A scantily clad drunk girl asked him to sign her chest. Resort security guards were already marching toward the small horde, but Dante broke away from the group and led Shayna toward the elevator.

Upstairs, she fired up her laptop and began typing furiously. Dante relaxed slightly, satisfied that she was working on her book. He’d hoped for something a little more romantic with her after the wedding, but he understood that it had been a trying day in many ways.

He opened his own laptop to see how much hype had resulted from Collette’s stunt. Even though it had only been a few hours, there was already quite a bit. The forums on his website were particularly clogged, and footage of the encounter had gone viral. For the most part, all speculation about any romantic reunion with Collette was discounted due to him kissing Shayna—though a few posters suggested there was a ménage a trois going on.

What concerned Dante most was the rabid scrutiny about Shayna. Links to her website were referenced everywhere, and some enterprising individual had dug up her divorce records. People wondered if she’d left her husband for Dante, and one teasing commenter asked if Shayna’s subject matter would change from “dashing dukes” to “rakish rock stars.” Plastered all over the Web were pictures of their kiss, which he didn’t mind, and of her terrified face while they stood next to Collette, which hurt him to look at.

Shayna was uncomfortable because she had gotten to know him as a person, but the events of the day—from Collette’s arrival, to seeing them perform together, to finally the press assault—had slapped her in the face with his celebrity status. That was why she’d been so quiet even after they escaped, and why they weren’t cuddled up together now. Dante cursed himself for not realizing it sooner.

His fame was a curse. Even after their years of marriage, Collette still looked at him with awe and hero-worship, and Dante realized something: He didn’t want Shayna to look at him like that.

He was going to do his best to make Shayna see him not as a rock star but as a man.

Chapter Seventeen

Shayna’s lips still tingled from Dante’s kiss in front of the paparazzi when they arrived back at their suite, no matter that it had happened hours ago. Her mind raced and spots still danced before her eyes from the flashing cameras, and she tried to focus on her manuscript, which seemed odd after the wedding but safer by far. Had Dante kissed her purely for the media’s sake, or did it mean something more?

Crazy. A little over a month ago, she’d been listening to that song Dante and Collette sang on her MP3 player while washing dishes and praying the casserole would be done before Shawn came home. Now…

A sinking feeling engulfed her stomach. A feeling of displacement. This wasn’t her world. She didn’t belong here. She never had.

Her hands shook as she remembered that banzai charge of paparazzi, the assault of flashing cameras, the frantic, hungry, shouted questions. Collette and Dante had handled them with primarily amused professionalism, but Shayna had felt like a terrified rabbit. No, she certainly didn’t belong in this place.

But she did belong in the writing world. Dante had reminded her of that. And it had been a solace and an escape for much longer than she’d realized.

With a resolute breath, she forced all the overwhelming thoughts about the day from her mind and transported herself back in time, with her minstrel duke and her witty heroine who had ten times Shayna’s own spirit. Unfortunately, she’d barely gotten several pages done before her phone buzzed.

It was a text from her editor: Wow! You’re famous!

What do you mean? Shayna texted back.

Her phone buzzed again, and Shayna could picture Emma shaking her head, even though they’d only met once at that conference.

Girl, have you checked your social media? Much less your sales rankings?

Hand shaking on the mouse, Shayna clicked on her Facebook author profile. People had tagged her page multiple times with pictures, articles, and even a video of Dante kissing her at Quinn and Kinley’s wedding, and her mind swam with dizziness. It had only been a few hours, and already the incident was going viral?

She skimmed the articles.

Rocker Dante Deity Snubs Pop Idol Collette for Popular Romance Author, one of the blog links read.

Shayna snorted in disbelief. Popular? Her? And Dante hadn’t snubbed his ex-wife. He was too civil, too chivalrous for that. How she loathed clickbait titles.

Rapt, for a while she stared at the picture of herself garbed in her elegant burgundy dress, visibly melting in Dante’s arms as his lips claimed hers. The photo could almost pass for the cover of a romance novel, itself.

Is that really me?

She could barely believe it—until she looked down to assure herself that she was still wearing that gorgeous dress. Honestly, it wasn’t very comfortable to write in, but she’d been too flustered from the wedding to think of changing when she sat down at the desk to try to clear her head by diving into the fictional world of her characters.

Heat crept up her cheeks as she read the comments beneath the shared post. It seemed her readers had bigger imaginations than she did. They all virtually squealed and sighed over a romantic courtship that hadn’t even happened. Of course, what did they truly know about her? She’d been honest to them but not that honest. She hadn’t told them about the baby….

She shook off drowning depression at the thought and giggled at one of her readers’ candid observations about Dante’s figure—and at another who asked if he was helping her research her love scenes.

In a way, I suppose, the imp within compelled her to respond, adding a smiley face and a wink.

Closing her eyes, Shayna allowed herself to imagine her readers’ guesses at her introduction to Dante. Instead of him carrying her out of the hospital, homeless and stinking, he’d swept her off her feet at some gala they were both attending, maybe some charity founded by artists, musicians and writers. They’d danced and talked about books and music as they sipped wine and looked into each other’s eyes with growing heat.

Instead of him caring for her like an invalid and the fact that they may have possibly only started sleeping together due to convenience and proximity, as Shayna’s mom voice occasionally suggested, they’d engaged in a tender courtship, romantic dates, and finally that one magical night where they concluded a romantic evening with a steamy night between his sheets.

Instead of accompanying Dante to this wedding as a burden that he likely just didn’t want to leave behind, as the mom voice suddenly insisted, Shayna had come here with him on equal footing with the women she’d met. A real girlfriend, a partner, one of them.

And instead of their kiss being orchestrated for the media, Dante had pulled her into that passionate embrace because he’d wanted to, and the press had just happened to catch pictures of it.

The what-ifs were making her maudlin, so Shayna did as Emma advised and checked her sales rankings.

Holy wow. She gaped at the impossibly high spike. That would definitely make for her biggest royalty check yet. Though, part of her wished she could have done something on her own to make this happen. Still, she stared at the graph on the screen as if hypnotized.

She jumped as Dante came out of the bedroom and strode over to the little desk where she wrote. He’d removed his suit jacket and tie, and the cuffs of his dress shirt were unbuttoned.

“I hate to interrupt, but I haven’t heard you typing for some time. Are you okay?” He gave her that impossibly sexy smile, but it seemed something else was there, something new that made her shiver.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to control her fluttering stomach. “I was done for now, anyway, just answering emails. My editor saw a video of you kissing me,” she added, dropping her gaze.

“Are you in trouble?” Dante asked worriedly.

His concern brought a thrill of warmth to her heart, even as it filled her with amusement. “No, quite the opposite. She’s thrilled. My sales have suddenly skyrocketed.”

“Shayna, that’s great!” Dante said.

It sounded like he meant it. Shayna’s pulse raced even as a twinge of regret intruded. If only things weren’t so confusing; if only she could leap into his arms, confident that he would twirl her romantically in the air and kiss her tenderly. If only their relationship was forever.

He wouldn’t do that, the mom voice sneered in her head. Even if he was romantically interested in her, no real man would do such a thing as twirl his woman in desperate glee. Gestures like that were reserved for movies and novels like the ones she wrote. She even remembered what Dante had said before they left Sacramento: “I’m sorry things went that far and complicated our arrangement.”

Those weren’t the words of a man in love—and why should he be? They hadn’t known each other very long, and besides, she was just a project to him. He’d said as much! And men in real life were terrified of commitment.

“However…I can’t say I’m sorry about what happened, and I wouldn’t mind repeating the experience.”

What exactly was she to him? If she didn’t ask him soon, she would go crazy.

“Shayna?” Dante interrupted her thoughts. “It’s getting late. We’re supposed to meet Kat and Klement and the guys at the Dockside Restaurant in the morning, for breakfast and huckleberry milkshakes. With the way they rave about ’em, I’ve been dying to try one.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’ve never had a huckleberry milkshake?” Those were a summer tradition during her Montana childhood. She’d forgotten that it would be the same in northern Idaho.

He shook his head. “No, but your expression makes me even more eager to rectify that. So what do you say? Let’s go to bed.”

Her email dinged, and Shayna saw that her publicist had sent her a notice that they were going to do a promotion on her last book, but she could barely register the details as heat trilled through her body at him saying the word bed.

“I’m coming,” she said. Oh, that sounded dirty. Her blush deepened.

She swiveled her chair back around to type a reply, and Dante leaned in the doorway, giving her another slow smile. He said, “I’ll wait. I know how I can be when I’m working, so I think I’ll make sure you don’t get sucked back into it.”

She stiffened. It was like he could read her. She still needed to answer her editor’s text too.

With some quick work, she replied to Emma’s text about her sales, hoping she conveyed excitement and didn’t end too curtly. Then she clicked on her Word document to minimize it, darting a furtive glance at Dante to make sure he couldn’t read the screen. In her last scene she’d recreated her memory of their lovemaking almost exactly…too exactly. In the next draft she’d have to do some editing to place it back in the realm of fiction, and certainly before she allowed Dante to read it. Her cheeks burned as she saved the document and pulled free her flash drive.

Stretching, she rose from the chair and walked toward the living room area of the suite. Dante had settled on the couch, taking off his shoes in readiness for bed. Shayna plopped down on the loveseat and followed suit. As her feet throbbed in relief, she wondered why she hadn’t taken the damn things off sooner.

Dante got up and sat next to her, his eyes dark blue and intense. He leaned forward and kissed her neck, and Shayna leapt up from the couch as if burned. Electrical currents darted through her body, but they were anything but unpleasant.

“What are you doing?” she gasped. How was she supposed to muster the nerve to ask him to clarify their relationship when he was making her melt like this? The mere touch of his lips made all coherent thoughts flee her mind.

“Kissing you,” he said with a smile, and he ran his fingers through her hair, making her shiver. “I’ve been waiting to do this since the wedding. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Yes!” Shayna rose from the couch and stepped back, struggling to think. “It’s too confusing. I don’t know what to do about this, or where we stand.” The mom voice in her head had gained volume. “I don’t want to be just a cheap fling to you. You know, just a wh—”

In a flash, he was upright. Before she could back away further, he growled, “Don’t ever say that! It’s not like that at all.”

“What’s it like then?” she asked, unable to hide the desperation in her voice.

He frowned, eyes wide and hurt. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this. I publicly declared that you’re my girlfriend after all. That kiss was—”

“To keep the press off your back about your ex,” she murmured weakly. Was she wrong about that?

He blinked as if startled, and a small, humorless smile curved his lips. It was surprisingly potent nonetheless. “You didn’t believe me?”

She backed up and shook her head, her heart racing. It pounded faster as he slowly stalked toward her, an intent look in his eye. Liquid heat pulsed between her thighs.

With impossible speed, he pulled her into his arms. His lips came down on hers, stealing her breath, and when he broke away he whispered, “How about now? Do you believe me now?”

He kissed her again, and Shayna’s breath fled her body. Shivers ran up and down her spine, and a soft moan was all she could manage. Dante’s hands crept down her legs before sliding up the skirt of her gown, caressing her bare legs. His teeth scraped lightly across her neck.

“How about now?” he said just as his fingers reached her core, stroking her through the satin of her panties.

“Dante,” she gasped, trembling in his arms. “I…”

Her words trailed off as he moved behind her, reaching down the front of her dress with one hand to tease her breasts and cupping her hot center with the other. His hardness ground against her rear. Her knees weakened.

“Now?” he whispered again.

“I…”

Both of his hands were under her gown now, gripping her panties, sliding them down her legs. He moved in front of her again, claiming her lips. And as Dante kissed her, he slowly walked her back to the couch. It was as if they were dancing.

“Believe me now?”

His voice was husky and teasing as he laid her upon the cushions, lifted the skirt of her dress, and before she could reply he knelt between her legs and plunged his tongue inside her wetness. Shayna cried out, shocked, and her hips bucked but he restrained them with a firm grip on her thighs. She thrashed and moaned as he licked and sucked her throbbing arousal. The first and last time her ex-husband had done that, it had felt slimy and gross. Dante’s ministrations, however, were sweet torture.

When she was on the verge of screaming from the intensity of her pleasure, he stopped and turned her around, hoisting her over the back of the couch. The sound of his zipper made her breath hiss inward, and delicious tension at the tearing of a condom wrapper was palpable in the air. Hiking up her dress, Dante put a firm hand on her hip, and Shayna’s fingers dug into the cushions as she felt his cock rubbing against her slick heat.

“Do you believe me now, Shayna?” he growled.

“Yes!” she cried out.

He entered her in one long thrust, sheathed himself to the hilt, impossibly deep. For an endless moment he remained still, and Shayna reveled in the feeling of fullness.

A low moan escaped her throat as he began to move in a slow, intoxicating rhythm. She could feel every inch of him sliding inside her, and clinging to the sofa she spread her knees farther apart and lifted her hips, needing him deeper, harder. Dante was happy to oblige. He pounded into her with a fervent tempo that sent shockwaves of pleasure careening through her being. His touch and scent overpowered her consciousness, weaving an inescapable spell over her.

Suddenly, his hand reached under her body to stroke her core. Shayna cried out at the sensation and writhed beneath him, but he was merciless; his other hand slid up along her breasts, pinching her nipples. He caressed and teased her clit until orgasm roared through her, electrifying her cells with earth-rocking force, bringing a scream past her lips. Still Dante continued the exquisite torment, thrusting into her as she squirmed and pulsated around him.

Just as she was beginning to see white spots behind her eyes, Dante let out a harsh cry. His hands moved upward, and he cradled her gently in his arms. He pulsed within her, shuddering, and the sensation drew out her climax until she couldn’t bear it any longer.

They lay motionless for some time. He slowly withdrew then, making her quiver with each pulsing inch. Shayna collapsed onto her side, panting with blissful exhaustion as she gradually came back to herself, and swimming with dizziness she struggled to sit up and work her skirt back into place. Her panties were only a few feet away, but in her boneless state the distance seemed like miles.

Dante appeared at the bathroom door. She hadn’t known he’d left. His eyes were full of sensuous knowledge as he looked at her, and a satisfied smile curved his lips, making her cheeks blaze.

He sat down on the couch and pulled her onto his lap. The scent of him and their lovemaking made her dizzy.

“Well,” he said conversationally, “I’m glad that’s settled.”

For the longest time they held each other, then, basking in luxurious afterglow.

Finally, Shayna found her voice. “We didn’t even get undressed.”

Dante’s wicked smile returned. “We can do that later—before we try out that waterfall shower. And I have some ideas about the bathroom in my master bedroom back home.”

After his impassioned words and passionate lovemaking, Shayna finally dared to speak of their future. “You’re going to love the huckleberry shakes tomorrow. We’ll have to ask Kat where they are in this area, so if we ever come back I can take you huckleberry picking. Or if we ever go to Montana, I’ll show you where I used to go.”

“I think I would like that.”

He kissed her forehead, and Shayna’s heart soared with hope. Maybe her fantasized courtship was coming true after all.

Chapter Eighteen

Two months later, Dante reached out with one hand to open the curtain of his office window while he held the phone with the other. His relationship with Shayna had just passed into more serious territory, though she didn’t know it yet.

He had just told his father about her.

“You’d really like her, Dad,” he finished, watching Shayna lounging beside the pool with a book in her hand. His eyes devoured her curves, again accented by that blue bathing suit. He felt a twinge of regret that summer was ending.

“Good, so when’s the wedding going to be?”

Patrick’s gruff voice was teasing, and Dante rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Dad, we’ve only known each other for three months.”

His father laughed. “I only knew your mother for a week before I knew she was the one.”

A dull pang of wistful grief washed over Dante. His mother had been dead for almost two years, but he still missed her every day. He just tried not to fixate on it. “Times were different then.”

“Well, you’d better not take too long to figure things out. Neither of us are getting any younger, and I’m still holding out hope for a grandkid or two.” Before Dante could argue, his father continued, “Anyhow, I’d best get going. Joe’s gonna be here any minute to watch the game. Nice talking to you, son. I’m proud of you, and I look forward to hearing your next album.”

Dante sighed and hung up the phone. That was his dad all right: terse and to the point. And he had a valid point. These months with Shayna had been the happiest Dante had ever had. Their days formed a blissful perfection now as if they’d been together forever, and their nights were just as intense—as if it were always their first time in bed.

His eyes roved over her again, an appreciative smile curving his lips she stretched. She had started off as a project to him, and in some ways she still was one. So far it was a successful endeavor. After returning from the wedding, Shayna had finished her manuscript a month before deadline, signed with an agent and gotten an impressive advance from her publisher for a new series. Dante was so proud of her he could burst.

And the last was an excellent book, too. Possibly her best. He’d cajoled her into letting him read her final draft, and he had finished it one sitting. He was even able to help her with some esoteric historical details. But the tale of the sword-wielding nobleman-cum-minstrel had stuck in Dante’s mind like very few other books ever had.

He watched Shayna set her book down and frowned as that distant look of sadness marred her beautiful face. She wasn’t out of the woods yet, he realized, although she’d made definite progress in recovering from her grief. Dante smiled as he remembered the joy in her eyes when she’d taken her divorce decree to the Social Security office to change her name back to Gray, and then went to her bank to change her name on her account and get new checks. But she’d waved off his offer to take her to get a California driver’s license.

With a sigh, he reminded himself to be patient. These things took time. With all she’d been through, he couldn’t expect her to fully commit to settling down with him, especially not after such a short period of time. Hell, she still had nightmares sometimes. Dante ached whenever he heard those agonized whimpers, though he was relieved to be there to hold her.

Outside, Shayna was staring off into space with that melancholy frown on her lips. She’d been doing that a lot lately, though she’d been trying to hide it from him. Dante’s fists clenched impotently at his sides, because he hated seeing her in pain. Was this love then? He supposed it was.

Letting the curtain drop, he paced across the floor of his office, overcome with anxious frustration. The recent honeymoon period was quickly drawing to a close. No matter how much he wished their blissful peace could remain, reality would soon intrude. For one thing, his usual antsy urge to be back on the road was creeping in, killing his appetite and making sleep difficult. The songs for his new album were all written, and the band would be heading into the recording studio next week. Dante was always on edge at these times, and now the feeling was worse than usual.

Work. His devotion to his craft and his fans. Because of that, none of his relationships had ever worked out. Part of it had been mistrust and jealousy about groupies on the road, but most of the problems surfaced when he was recording an album. The women always felt neglected. And though he couldn’t blame them, there was nothing he could do about it. The work always came first. It had to.

Would Shayna understand? He’d found himself hoping. He prayed she would understand why he was anxious to get back into the studio and onto the road. It had nothing to do with her. He truly got itchy if he stayed at home too long and away from the music. Would she be able to handle being alone for this first challenge, the week or three that it would take for him and the band to record their project?

He hoped so. At least she had her writing to occupy her. But what would happen when he came back and then went on the road? Some of his tours lasted as long as eighteen months.

Actually, to his surprise, his concern was not so much with whether she could take such a long separation, but whether or not he could.

You could take her with you, a voice whispered, and Dante nodded, conceding the possibility. After all, she could write on the road.

But would that be fair to her? another voice asked. Could he expect Shayna to deal with the rough company of the musicians and roadies, sleep in the often less than glamorous accommodations—often the cramped tour bus—and deal with the constant noise and flashing cameras? Because he loved her, he didn’t want to make her unhappy.

The sound of the sliding glass door pulled him from his thoughts. He heard Shayna walk to the kitchen to start dinner, and Dante sighed. Those practicalities just didn’t reduce his wanting to take her with him.

Maybe he should just present it like it was a done deal.

***

Shayna watched Dante toy with the pasta on his plate. He’d only eaten half of his dinner again. Had she suddenly become a bad cook? Rosa had ceded the duty to her two nights a week after Dante promised that there’d be no reduction in pay. In fact, the housekeeper had smiled. And of course Shayna cooked on the weekends when the Rosa was off.

“Did I put too much garlic in the sauce?” she asked, hoping her worry wasn’t too pronounced.

He shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. “No, it’s delicious. I’m just not very hungry when I have work on my mind.”

Shayna managed a sympathetic nod and poured him some more wine. It probably was just the work. He’d been distant and fidgety for the past week. God knew she felt on edge and out of her skin when her writing got especially intense, but still, she couldn’t help but worry that there was something else.

The conversation she’d had with her mother that morning echoed in her mind, and she tried to drown it out with more wine. After the usual guilt-injecting remonstrations for not calling more often, her mother had said plainly, “I saw you on TV over two months ago kissing some rock star. Is that the ‘friend’ you’re staying with?”

“It is,” Shayna had said firmly, though her grip on the receiver trembled. She should have just sucked it up and called last month and gotten this over with, but she hadn’t wanted anything to intrude on her happiness.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place, Shayna?” The hurt accusation in her mother’s voice was plain as a stab to the heart. “Why did I have to learn on a gossip show that my daughter is shacking up with a big-shot rock star? And you’re only now telling me?”

“He doesn’t act like a big-shot, Mom, he’s very nice.” A pleading little girl voice had crept into her tone, and Shayna hated it. Gathering her breath, she’d told her mother all about Dante’s rescuing her and getting her to write again. And had then brought up her recent success.

Janet Gray was merciless as ever. “You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”

Shayna had sighed. “Yes, Mom, I am.”

Her mother had then launched into an acerbic monologue full of contradicting and ever cynical witticisms: “Isn’t he a little old for you?” “Why should he buy the cow when he’s getting the milk for free?” “Well, that type isn’t usually the marrying kind, and even if they are, it’s never permanent. I mean, look at how many times Paul McCartney has been married!”

The urge to slam down the phone had grown stronger each second, but she’d fought back. “We’ve only been involved a little over three months. It’s a bit early to be thinking of marriage,” she’d claimed. Though she’d had to fight the little pitter-patter of her heart at the word.

“I know, dear. I just worry about you.” Her mother sighed. “You’re not getting any younger, after all. And what are you going to do when he goes back to doing his concerts? Are you going to stay at his house and wait while tramps from every city paw at him backstage?”

Those words had hit her like a bucket of ice water, dousing every vestige of her good mood. She’d struggled to remember why she even called in the first place.

“Shayna? Shayna, are you there?”

“I got a six-figure advance on my latest book,” she’d announced when she remembered. Her voice was cold, emotionless, as if she were describing a sale on toilet paper. “I received the contract and signing payment today.”

“Oh, dear, that’s wonderful!” Her mother’s enthusiasm had remained for a nanosecond before… “You’re not sharing it with him, are you? All that money—”

“No, it’s going in the bank.” Shayna didn’t bother explaining yet again the process of installments, taxes, or her new agent’s cut. The conversation had soured enough to ruin her entire week and reinforce her policy of calling her mother as rarely as possible. “Anyway, I have to go. Edits, you know.”

“Wait, Shayna. I almost forgot to tell you.” And, here, Janet had delivered a final unsettling blow. “Shawn called. About a month ago. He wants to know your new address.”

A mixture of cold dread and squirming disgust had washed over Shayna like a bucket of scummy pond water was dumped on her head. Shawn had been emailing her almost every day for the last month and a half, actually. She’d been deleting the messages, taking bitter joy as they disappeared unread.

She’d sighed. “It’s none of his business, Mom. No part of my ever will be again.”

“But maybe he wants to reconcile,” her mother said, her voice wheedling. “He’ll be more likely to stick with you than some rock god. Marriages aren’t always easy, and people make mistakes, especially during hard times. Maybe with what happened to the baby…well, maybe it was Shawn’s way of…” She’d sniffled, unable to finish the sentence, and it was the first time Shayna had felt shared emotion between them. But her next words put everything back to normal. “I think you’re old enough for me to tell you that your father wasn’t always faithful. No man can be faithful. And—”

“I really have to go now. Goodbye, Mom.”

Somehow she’d kept her voice level, and completely sapped of energy she’d hung up. Minutes before the call she’d been full of joy at freedom from Shawn, her new success with her novels, and how she felt alive again in Dante’s arms. After the conversation, all was ashes.

Your father wasn’t always faithful…

Shayna futilely put her hands over her ears. She felt sludgy, and now there was radioactive poison mixed with the sludge.

She sipped her wine and regarded Dante with growing worry across the table, her mother’s words continuing to seep in like venom. He’s losing interest already, that bitter voice taunted. He’s just trying to find a nice way to tell you to leave.

The phone rang, and for a panicked moment Shayna thought it was her mother calling back. Her mouth opened to beg Dante not to answer, but no sound came.

“Ash!” Dante said with more cheer than she’d heard from him in weeks. “How are you?”

She sighed in relief even as she wondered who Ash was. Stupid, really. Mom wouldn’t waste the money on a long distance call.

“That’s great!” Dante’s voice practically trembled with excitement. “I just have to call the guys, but for now count us in.

“Well,” he said when he hung up. “It seems we’re going on the road sooner than I expected.”

His eyes met hers, suddenly expectant, and a needle of panic dug into Shayna’s spine. What did this mean for her? What did it mean for their relationship? She tried to keep her voice calm and mildly curious.

“Oh?”

“You ever heard of the band Niteblade?” When she shook her head, Dante continued. “I’ve been working on organizing a charity tour. There’ve been a few setbacks, but it looks like it’s finally going to happen. It’s going to be called ‘Metal Feed,’ and half the proceeds will go to food banks and homeless shelters across the nation. And Niteblade has joined the roster! It’s going to be an amazing show!”

“That’s wonderful!” Shayna said, meaning it with all her heart. The more she learned about the heavy metal subculture, the more she discovered that most involved were the kindest people.

Dante’s eyes were wide with excitement. “It’ll be a pretty small tour, being that it’s only in the western half of the US. But that makes it easier. If everything works out, we could be on the road in as soon as two months.”

Two months…? He could be leaving her in two months. Less, even, since he was heading to the recording studio the day after tomorrow. A thousand questions burned through her mind, but she didn’t dare ask any of them.

“Are you okay?” Dante said.

The concern in his voice helped. Still, she avoided his gaze as she picked up her plate and went to the dishwasher. “I’m fine. I just need to get back to editing this manuscript. Congratulations on your tour.”

He raised a brow and gave her a stern look. “You can’t fool me. Something’s bothering you. Is it the tour?”

She couldn’t bring herself to ask the main question on her mind: Are you tiring of me? Instead, she brought up another worry that had plagued her since Coeur d’Alene. “Has your association with me hurt your reputation or career? Has there been any fallout since the wedding?”

Dante laughed. “No, in fact, I think it’s helped. Going by my website, many of my fans are expecting that dating a romance author has improved my sex life.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I must say that it has—though a gentleman never tells.”

Warmth filled Shayna, but then he spoke again.

“Honestly, most of the news is about Collette, like it always was. It seems she’s now being paired on and off with an old flame, Allejandro Garcia, one of those radio-friendly singers. I don’t know whether she’s getting involved with him for the publicity or if she just enjoys having men chase after her…” His lip curled in scorn. “She tried that game with me before, but I would never play. I don’t chase.”

Shayna nodded. If Dante pursued her, she’d think it was incredibly romantic. The thought gave her a sudden urge to defend Collette. “She quit music because she had a miscarriage last year and was too heartbroken to sing—like me with my writing.”

Dante’s eyes widened. “Really? I had no idea she even wanted children.” His features softened with sympathy, and then he frowned. “I don’t get why she didn’t just fucking tell me, though. I mean, I know I’m not the easiest guy to deal with, but she should have known she could trust me. And I wouldn’t have snapped at her like I did if I knew that.” Thousands of unreadable emotions passed across his face, and he rose from the table. “Why are you just telling me now?”

“I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you at all. Collette didn’t tell you. She only told me because she’d heard about my baby and wanted some advice.” She looked down and fidgeted with her napkin. “I just wanted to defend her, what with you judging her so harshly.”

“I suppose I did.” He looked chastened. “Damn it, I’d apologize, but since I’m not supposed to know…” He trailed off. “And this makes me feel bad all over again for snapping at you about your writer’s block. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Shayna said softly.

He rose from the table and kissed her forehead. When she didn’t say anything else, he stared at her. “I gotta get back to work. I have one more song to finish.”

Shayna blinked at his retreating form, unable to tell if he was mad. She hadn’t wanted to guilt trip him or anything. Was that what had happened?

She took care of her dishes and headed back to the office, trying to fight off the feeling that she was fleeing Dante and retreating into herself. Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, however, sounding triumphant.

“Are you going to sit at his house and wait while tramps from every city paw at him?”

Shayna shook her head, but then her ex-husband’s voice spoke in her head, low and mocking.

“He’s tiring of you, Shayna-baby. Just like I did.”

Chapter Nineteen

Dante frowned as he sat in his basement studio. He should have been more tactful with Shayna in his announcement that they were going on the road. Likely he’d scared the hell out of her, saying it so casually. But he’d been so excited that Niteblade was getting onboard.

He’d decided for sure before he even got off the phone with Ash that there was no way he was leaving her behind. Being away from Shayna for the weeks at the recording studio would be agony as it was, secluded as he always made sure those days were. He was half-tempted to bring his cell phone to the recording this time, but he didn’t want to risk being tempted by calls he’d get other than hers—not to mention the fact that his timeless Do Not Disturb policy at the studio during sessions would be completely undermined if he did. Instead, he reminded himself that his hotel room would have a phone. He’d call her every night and try to wrap up early.

Yet, she’d been seriously bothered. And although she’d said that it wasn’t the tour causing her grief, her eyes said different.

Dante wrote out the last verse of the song that had finally come clear during dinner, and he started upstairs to reassure Shayna, but he stopped as he heard the clattering of her keyboard through the door of the office. She was really working. It wouldn’t do to bother her. She worked as hard as he did, he realized, and hated interruptions at crucial times.

Actually, maybe it would be better to avoid discussing it at all—at least for now. Maybe he’d give her some time to get used to the idea. That would also give him time to think of ways to make the trip easier on her.

He went to fold laundry, humming various potential melodies for a song and pondering the quandary. If there was a way to make the tour beneficial to her writing career… Well, he could take her to museums and domestic historical sites for research if she finally set a book in the States, but there had to be something more.

An idea struck him. It was so obvious that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. More than that, it was too good, too perfect for it not to be a wonderful surprise if he could get all the details right. The look on her face would be exquisite. He knew it. He would have to make several phone calls…but that could wait. The rapid click of Shayna’s typing had slowed, and a break would do her good if he could lure her out of the office.

A slow, devilish smile spread across his lips as he headed out to the pool, singing as he slowly slipped off his clothes. Carefully, he peered over his shoulder at the office window, gratified to see the curtain twitch. Singing louder, he slid his boxer briefs down past his hips. The fence was too high for his neighbor, some TV actor, to see, but it didn’t matter anyway since the guy was off filming.

Dante jumped into the pool and swam a quick lap before looking back at the window. Shayna’s wide eyes stared back at him. She’d given up pretending not to watch.

Dante waved.

Shayna waved back. It seemed he could see her blush even in the twilight. He crooked his finger, beckoning for her to join him. Her lips parted, and the hungry look in her eyes made him grow hard despite the coolness of the water. She turned and left the office, and he smiled in triumph.

Her slim form appeared behind the sliding glass door. Dante licked his lips, watching her hesitate a moment before coming outside.

“Would you like to join me?” he called.

She shivered a little, and he felt a thrill of delight that she was so affected by him. He prayed she always would be.

“My bathing suit is in the wash,” she said with a little stammer as she came out.

He chuckled. “That’s exactly my point.” He swam by her, floating on his back. “After all, I’m not wearing anything. And I’m ready for you. Look.”

Her eyes widened and her rosy blush glowed faintly under the outside lights. “But…but…”

“No one will see,” he prodded. “The walls are high enough.”

She gazed at him pointedly. “You’ll see me.”

“Oh, yes,” Dante agreed, resting his arms on the edge of the pool. “And I’ll enjoy it very much.”

Shayna gave him a shy smile, one adorable dimple appearing before she stepped out of her sandals and pulled off her shirt. Her shorts came next, dropping past her hips in a tantalizing whisper of fabric, and Dante realized that this cute little striptease was far more arousing than that of any professional dancer he’d ever witnessed.

For the longest time she stood there in her bra and panties, hips swaying as she shifted nervously.

“Go on,” he said. His gaze roved over her, letting her know how much he appreciated the view, and with shaking hands she reached back and unfastened her bra, holding the cups in place for a moment before at last letting them drop. A blissful sigh escaped Dante’s lips at the sight of her beautiful, softly rounded breasts, and when she slid down her panties, he couldn’t hold back a groan of yearning.

She moved closer, an ethereal goddess with the body of a sinful pixie. Her time with him had healed that malnourished and damaged body; the unhealthy starved angles and hollows had smoothed into gentle curves and her skin was gold from the summer sun.

Impatience seasoned his lust at her slow progress down the pool steps. “If you don’t hurry, I’ll swim over there and pull you in,” he teased.

Instead of a blushing smile and immediate compliance, Shayna splashed him. The act was a dare if he’d ever seen one.

Pinning a forbidding frown on his face, Dante growled ominously, then swam over to the shallow end, his body cutting through the water like a blade. Shayna shrieked as he seized her, but he detected a giggle beneath the feigned horror.

The moment her silken flesh pressed against his chest, his erection bucked with excitement. Dante resisted the urge to ravish her on the spot, wanting to draw out the fun a little longer.

He carried her to the deeper end of the pool. As he did, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, her hot center pressing against his cock and driving him mad. His hands cupped her delicious rear, pulling her tighter to him as he took her lips in a long, deep kiss, and his tongue darted into her mouth, savoring the taste of wine and the unique flavor that was Shayna’s alone.

For an eternity, they kissed and touched, twirling in lazy circles. At one point Dante looked at the water nymph in his arms, awed by the power of his feelings for her, and unbidden, he mouthed, “I love you.” She couldn’t see, though. Her head was thrown back in ecstasy as she gyrated against him.

He watched her expression and fought the urge to say the words aloud, not sure if she was ready to hear them. He kept hearing Zander’s long-ago words about all she’d been through, and he didn’t want to force her to face any commitment she wasn’t ready for. And then it didn’t matter. He felt a slick wetness that had nothing to do with the water, and his throbbing cock could take no more teasing.

His hands held Shayna firmly while he worked himself inside her. The aquatic environment required a little more effort, but the mind-bending pleasure of her tightness made it well worth the work. Shayna’s low moan reverberated through his being, intensifying the depth of his thrusts, and the contrast between the coolness of the water and her tight heat drove him closer to the edge. Her thighs gripped his sides as she rocked against him, the water lapping against their bodies in hypnotic waves.

Her breath came in hot little pants, her back arched, and beads of water trickled down her heaving breasts. Dante felt her grow tighter around him, and he knew she was getting close—

With the next thrust, Shayna came with a scream, her core squeezing his shaft with pulsing tremors, bringing his own orgasm with soul-ripping force. Dante’s legs went weak and he and Shayna both almost sank into the water, but he regained his balance, still trembling from the aftershocks.

“Wow,” he breathed when he finally recovered.

“Uh-huh,” Shayna panted, still shaking.

The lovemaking had been more powerful than ever this time, he thought as he eased them back to the shallow side of the pool. There had been something about it, and it wasn’t just the water.

Dante froze in realization.

“What’s wrong?” Shayna asked. The worry in her tone increased his guilt.

“I didn’t wear a condom this time,” he whispered. An image of her holding their baby suddenly flashed behind his eyes, and it was incredible. His chest tightened before he forced the feeling away. “Shayna, if—”

She cut him off. “I started the pill last month. We should be okay.”

“Oh,” he said, surprised to be more disappointed than relieved; to be thinking of such things this soon was too much. He shook off the unsettling feeling and attempted a little humor. “Well, the pool cleaner will need a bigger tip at any rate.”

“Eww.” Shayna giggled in embarrassment. “I need to go take a quick shower.”

“I’ll start some popcorn for a movie,” he suggested.

“That sounds nice,” she agreed. Then she headed for the bedroom, cheeks crimson as she hid her breasts in her bundle of clothes.

Dante watched with bated breath as Shayna disappeared down the hall, reminded of his previous plan. He headed into the library and grabbed a copy of her book, The Duke’s Deception. He carried the book to his office, skimmed one of the pages, grabbed a piece of paper, jotted a few notes, and returned the book.

Excellent. He had everything he needed.

Chapter Twenty

Six days after Dante left to record his new album, which had been two days after he ravished her in the swimming pool, Shayna found herself with too much time on her hands. The final edits of The Disinherited Duke had been finished and sent off to the publisher last week, and though she had a new story marinating in her mind, it wasn’t quite ready to come out on the page.

Rosa was on a two-week vacation, but with Dante gone there was little housework to do. Yesterday Shayna had dusted the house from top to bottom, though it didn’t need it. She tried to occupy herself with movies and books, but more often than not she found herself lying on the couch, aching with missing him. Dante had left his cell phone at the house because he was strict about eliminating all distractions during the recording process. Although he called her on the house phone every night from his hotel, he sounded so clipped and distracted that Shayna found herself rushing the conversations in fear of annoying him.

The trilling of the gate buzzer jerked Shayna out of her daze. Rubbing her eyes, she headed over to the call button.

“Who is it?” she asked. Dante had told her not to let anyone in unless she’d met them.

“I have a summons for a Ms. Shayna Gray,” a crisp, cool voice said.

The world tilted, and Shayna’s finger moved seemingly of its own volition to push the button to open the gate.

It righted itself a moment later. A summons? That meant someone was suing her. Had she unknowingly plagiarized something, or was someone accusing her of stealing their idea? She’d heard of that happening.

Robotically, her feet carried her to the front door just as there was a knock. The man on the porch looked yuppie enough to keep company with her ex, and as he handed her the papers, he gave her a smarmy smirk as if he already assumed she was guilty of whatever his court papers suggested.

“Have a nice day,” the guy said, walking back to his idling Buick with shoulders lifted as if in pride at a job well done.

With trembling hands, Shayna looked at the document. It wasn’t a plagiarism suit or an angry fan trying to cash in. It was possibly worse. The plaintiff was Shawn Jones, her ex-husband.

Pulse pounding with dread, she read on. Shawn was suing her for half of her royalties on the grounds that she’d been unfaithful to him with Dante Deity, and also due to her “misleading” him about her profits during their marriage. A bitter chuckle erupted from her throat like broken glass as she closed the door behind her and paced through the living room; the part about Dante was utter bullshit…and almost funny, really. Shawn was the one who had been unfaithful. But she had deceived him about her profits in a way. Still, she thought she’d covered her finances legally in the divorce papers.

Apparently she hadn’t.

Still shaking, Shayna headed to the phone and dialed the number of the studio Dante had left her in case of emergencies. He’d told her the studio clerk wouldn’t take calls unless it was dire, but this fit the bill.

“Thrash Records,” a bored voice answered.

“I—” Shayna swallowed, her mouth dry. “I need to speak with Dante Deity. It’s…it’s an emergency.”

“And who are you?” the guy asked with a note of impatience.

“This is Shayna Gray. I’m his girlfriend.”

A biting sigh of scorn reverberated across the phone line. “Are you dying or giving birth to his baby?”

“No, but—”

“Listen, little lady,” the man said. “Music is an important business that takes concentration and long hours of hard work. Artists like Dante can’t afford to be interrupted by their girlfriends at all hours of the day. If you want to be his sweetheart”—the word came out full of bile; he might as well have said whore—“you’re going to have to get used to that as well as all the things that happen on the road.”

The salacious tone of the guy’s voice made quite clear the implication of what things were happening on the road—if they hadn’t been before.

“I’ll let him know you called,” the voice continued, radiating insincerity. “But unless you’re dying or in labor, don’t call again. Hopefully, in a couple more weeks we’ll have an album that will make enough money for him to buy you something pretty. Bye now.”

For a long time Shayna stood listening to the dial tone. Little flecks of light flickered across the corners of her vision like dust motes. She needed to breathe.

At last she found her voice. “That asshole!” she confided to the empty house, quaking in outrage as she slammed the phone back into its cradle. Here was one benefit over cell phones.

More than ever she longed for Dante’s comforting presence, to feel his arms around her, but a kernel of misgiving lodged in her throat. Was this how it was going to be for them? Would he always be too busy when she needed him? That dick at the recording studio’s words had underlined their problems: “If you want to be his sweetheart, you’re going to have to get used to that as well as all the things that happen on the road.”

Shayna’s mother’s voice took that moment to chime in, too. “Are you going to sit at his house and wait while tramps from every city paw at him?”

A sickening image of said tramps, all younger and more attractive than Shayna, crept into Shayna’s mind like an insidious stench. They laughed at her and writhed on Dante’s lap as he gave them his special smile.

“No!” Her voice echoed so loud in the empty room that she jumped. “He’s not like that!”

Her heart cried out for Dante to be here to hold her, to reassure her that everything would be okay.

But he’s not here, the confident voice reminded her. And you know what? You need to handle this yourself. This is the first time he hasn’t been here for you, but it likely won’t be the last. After all, he is human, not a knight in shining armor. Not one of your fabricated dukes. He’s a man, Shayna, a man with his own life to live just as you have yours.

Shayna nodded. Where had that voice been these past few months? She rarely heard it, but when it spoke she knew such clarity and strength. It had been the first voice to suggest she write a book of her own. When her son died and she’d sat on the kitchen floor cradling a knife, it had told her to quit being a selfish bitch and that suicide would dishonor her child. When she’d learned of Shawn’s affair, and after he said he’d file for divorce, that voice had been the one to tell her to pack up and leave and cheat him out of the satisfaction of hurting her anymore. She wouldn’t give it credit—or rebuke—for the haphazard manner of her following that advice.

You need to deal with this problem with Shawn now, the voice continued. And you can handle it alone, despite what your mother has led you to believe, despite what Shawn trapped you into believing.

“Believing what?” she whispered aloud, mildly embarrassed to be talking to the voices in her head. Still, she didn’t want them to get lonely.

Believing that you need a man to take care of you for everything. You let Shawn handle every detail of your life, and you’ve been doing the same with Dante since you first met him. Look around. You’ve become totally codependent…again. You have no car, the house is his, and everything you’re wearing is what he paid for.

“I have my own money…,” she murmured.

Yes, but how have you paved your own way with it? I repeat, look around. Is there anything here to indicate that this is your home? More importantly, is this your home?

“I don’t know.” Her voice cracked in the empty room.

That’s right. You don’t. At first you were supposed to be here for a week, then it was “until you are better,” and now that you’re sleeping together it’s a big unknown. He hasn’t told you he loves you, and do you remember how on edge he was before this recording thing? Maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome. Do you want to be at his whimsy?

The thought of leaving Dante caused her heart to shriek a keening wail of grief. The voice in her head had a speck of compassion, however, and didn’t push. We’ll worry about that later. Right now, we need to take care of this lawsuit.

Taking a few deep cleansing breaths, Shayna agreed. She squared her shoulders and called her agent.

Judy listened carefully as the lawsuit was described then said, “It sounds doubtful that he has a case. However, I am not an attorney, and even if I was Oregon’s divorce laws are different from ours, I’m sure.” There was a sound of rapid typing in the background. “I can ask around and see if I can find a good lawyer in your area, but you’d probably be better off calling one of your old friends in Portland for a recommendation.”

What old friends? Shayna thought bitterly. Then the implications of the words struck her. “Wait, you mean I’m going to have to go back to Oregon for this?”

“It’s very likely—for the hearing at least,” Judy replied calmly. “I’m sure you can handle the rest over the phone and by fax.”

“Thanks so much,” Shayna said, quivering with dread at being forced to leave her safe haven so soon. And of facing her former husband. This event would be like being locked in a room with one’s worst schoolyard bully.

“By the way.” Judy’s voice suddenly sounded strange. “Has your rock star boyfriend said anything about the tour yet?”

Shayna felt a prickle on the back of her neck. “He told me it starts in six weeks, why?”

“I was just curious. My husband and I got tickets to the Vegas show. I was a metal-head in my day, you know. Maybe you can see about getting us backstage passes. I’d love to meet the Dante Deity.”

“Um, sure,” Shayna said, although the idea of asking such a thing was frightening. What if he thought it was out of line to ask for backstage passes for her agent? “He’s out of town now, but I can ask when he gets back.”

“Great!” Judy said. “I’ll call you back in a few minutes, okay? And I loved your last book. That scene with the minstrel’s song? Amazing.”

Shayna tucked her cell phone in her back pocket and headed upstairs to the room she’d slept in until the night she and Dante first made love. She still kept her clothes there, and she opened the dresser drawers and began to pull them out. If she was going to have to go back to Portland, she needed to do it now before she lost her courage and dropped to the floor to huddle in the fetal position.

As she piled shirts and pants on the unused bed, an immediate problem occurred to her. She had no backpack or suitcase. She’d packed her things in Dante’s when they went to Coeur d’Alene, and a surge of fury flared up at the further evidence of her codependence.

See what I mean? the strong inner voice spoke up again. Not even a simple tote bag! Good Lord, woman!

With a sigh she searched the house, but the only suitcases she could find were an ungodly expensive-looking monogrammed luggage set. It felt wrong to take something so fancy, especially with his initials embroidered on them in gold thread.

“I’ll just use pillowcases,” she grumbled. “They’re not that expensive to replace.”

After packing her clothes, makeup and toiletries, Shayna felt like an overenthusiastic trick-or-treater, but she also felt like she’d accomplished something in her quest to take action for herself and solve her own problems. By the time Judy called back with the name of a good attorney in Portland, she felt even more confident. She called the lawyer, set up an appointment, then booked an immediate flight home and scheduled a cab to take her to the airport. There was only one thing left to do.

She had to write Dante a note.

Trepidation seeped in, locking her in place like a deer in headlights. It would have been so much easier to talk to him, but thanks to that jerk at the studio it was impossible. A flare of resentment settled in her belly like a hot coal. If she ever came face to face with that piece of shit, she’d show him an emergency.

For hours Shayna sat in the office, begging for inspiration, alternately staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of her and at the photos of Dante. Explaining the situation would be easy, but after that the unknowns swirled around her so thick she felt like she was drowning. Would he want her to come back? Or would it be better for her to get her own place and see how the relationship progressed from there?

Don’t be silly, her mother’s voice intruded. He’s a big-shot rock star. It could never last. You had a nice little fling, but by now he’ll surely be relieved to be rid of you. His sort aren’t the marrying kind, after all.

Still, a thread of hope curled around her heart with wispy warmth. She indulged in a brief fantasy of Dante reading her note, coming up to Portland and punching Shawn in the nose before they drove off together in the sunset.

Then a memory flowed over the daydream with the darkness of thunderclouds. “I don’t chase.”

Shayna sighed. No, he wouldn’t come riding to her rescue.

Nor should he, the strong voice in her head countered. Besides, it’s better this way. You need to stand on your own two feet. Now, quit being a coward and tell him what’s happening. Thank him for all he’s done for you and assure him you’ll contact him when you get the chance.

Squaring her shoulders, Shayna scrawled out the letter as quickly as possible, lest she lose courage. With a quaking heart, she reread it. It sounded rather curt and bland, but at least her fear and desperate heartache weren’t revealed. She picked up the pen and added, I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me, and for all that you are, then thought that was a little sappy so she scratched out a final line that would at least give Dante an escape if he didn’t want to stay with her. She owed him that and so much more.

Last of all, Shayna pulled out her new checkbook and wrote a draft for four thousand dollars. Hopefully this was enough to cover the things he’d paid for. She wasn’t sure how much he’d spent on her laptop.

After placing the check and the letter on the coffee table in the living room, Shayna spent her last few hours curled up in Dante’s bed, hugging his pillow and savoring his scent as she fought off tears. When she headed out to the waiting cab, struggling with the pillowcases and locking the door behind her, Shayna heard the phone ring from inside. Dante was probably calling from the studio.

For a moment she froze, tempted to run back inside and answer. If she did, she’d be tempted to cry to him and ask him to fix everything. So, no. She had to do this herself.

The cab driver honked his horn impatiently, and Shayna reluctantly carried her bags down the paved drive, the ringing fading away, and she knew the wetness on her cheeks wasn’t from the falling rain.

Chapter Twenty-one

Dante sang as he strolled up to his house, every cell of his being thrumming with anticipation of seeing Shayna again, of holding her in his arms. She’d be so surprised that he’d finished early. He’d tried to call and tell her last night that he’d be coming home, but there had been no answer on his house phone or when he’d tried her cell. Maybe she’d been shopping or too engrossed in her writing to hear….

Fighting back a twinge of unease, Dante focused on his plans for her. He’d take her out to Sal’s, he decided, and shamelessly tease and flirt with her until her cheeks turned crimson. Then he would take her home, lay her on the dining room table and have her for dessert. Then, finally, when she was panting and boneless in his arms, he would present her with his surprise plan for the tour, when she would be helpless to argue.

The front door was locked. Dante smiled and reached for his keys, glad she’d taken his advice seriously. But when he got inside, he frowned. The house was completely dark.

“Shayna?” he called, reaching for the light switch.

Maybe she’d gone out… But where would she go? She didn’t even have a car.

Light flooded the room, and he saw two pieces of paper on the coffee table. The tightness in his chest loosened a little. At least she’d left a note.

Dante headed toward the table and stopped, his heart plummeting when he saw the check. Shayna had left him. He didn’t even have to read the note to know that. With shaking hands, he seized the check and tore it into pieces.

At last he picked up the note:

Dear Dante,

I have to go back to the Portland because Shawn is trying to sue me for half my royalties. He’s actually trying to claim that I was with you when I was still married, among other things. My agent and my new lawyer are pretty sure he has no case, but we’ll see.

I tried to call you at the studio, but I was unable to reach you. I’ll try to call you later when you’re home.

Problem was, she didn’t know he was home now. But he’d call her immediately and find out what this was about.

He felt a surge of hope that was quickly dashed away when he read the next lines.

As for what happens after this trial, I don’t know. I know you’re very busy with your new album and the upcoming tour, and I think I became too codependent on you and overstayed my welcome. I hope I wasn’t too much of a burden. I’m going to try to become more independent, starting off by paying you back for all you’ve given me. Please find the attached check.

I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me, and for all that you are. If we never see each other again, we’ll know it was fate, and I had my time with a rock god. I will treasure the memories of our time together.

Love, Shayna.

“What the hell?” Dante growled. He strode into his office, grabbed his cell and dialed Shayna’s number, but the call went straight to voicemail. “Shayna, call me. I got your letter and I need you to explain.”

The tone of the letter all but shouted that she wasn’t coming back. But why? Shoving the letter into his pocket, he headed to his bar. His throat was suddenly parched.

Two shots of rum and four beers later, Dante still had no answer for Shayna’s exodus from his life. There had to be more than just dealing with this lawsuit. She would have just written when she was coming back if that were the case. So, he had a few theories. One was that the prospect of facing her ex-husband had brought back memories of his oppression and now she was somehow associating that relationship with theirs.

Good God, he hoped not. His stomach revolted at the thought. His head ached. She’d said she’d been codependent on him. Yes, he’d taken care of everything for her, but was it a bad thing when he’d only wanted to help and make her happy? Apparently some part of her thought so.

His second theory was that she was just like all the other women he’d been with. She couldn’t handle waiting around for him while he was working. But he’d thought her writing would be enough to occupy her. Had a week alone really been so bad?

Dante set down his unfinished beer and stumbled out of the room, his mind still racing. Something was missing in that letter. Something was off.

Clinging to handrail, he made his way back up the stairs and into the guestroom where Shayna kept her clothes. Everything was gone except for the shoes that hadn’t fit. She’d even taken all the pillowcases. Dante suddenly realized that she’d likely used them to carry her stuff, since she didn’t have a suitcase and wouldn’t want to “burden” him further by using his. And no doubt she’d reimbursed him in the check.

For the first time in weeks, Dante laughed. He laughed so hard that he collapsed on the neatly made bed with its denuded pillows. Oh, she’d paid him back all right. She’d abandoned him and gone to throw herself to the wolves of the legal system, scorning the idea of asking him for help as an independent woman should. And she’d left him a check.

The laughter died on his lips. His sides ached, but not as much as his heart. Why had she left him?

The room spun slightly when he stood up, and he cursed himself for drinking on an empty stomach. When he made it to his room, he saw that the bed was rumpled. It gave him a warm thrill of satisfaction to see that the sheets hadn’t been changed. Oh, yes, Rosa was on vacation. Not bothering to take off his shoes, he lay down and grabbed a pillow, his throat tightening as he inhaled Shayna’s scent.

God, he missed her. Again, the question came: Why did she leave?

He reached out to grab the bedside phone. He missed the first try and nearly knocked it to the floor. Once he had it, he dialed Quinn’s number. The phone rang six times, and Dante almost hung up before his friend answered.

“What’s up?” Quinn asked, voice radiating cheerful contentment. Clearly the honeymoon period hadn’t worn off.

“Shayna left me,” he said thickly, closing his eyes against the spinning room.

“What?” Quinn sobered. “Why?”

With a sigh, Dante told him about coming home to find Shayna gone and recited the letter she’d left behind. “I’m starting to think she never cared for me in the first place,” he finished. Was that really true? “Or maybe I’m an idiot because I didn’t tell her I love her.”

Quinn’s voice was suddenly accusing. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“A little,” Dante admitted.

“Dude, she’s head over heels for you, all of us could see that. And yeah, you probably should have brought up the L-word before taking off for the studio. But my guess is that something spooked her. Something besides this stuff with her ex. She was alone the whole time while you were recording the album, except for your maid.”

“Housekeeper,” Dante corrected. “And no, Rosa gets time off when I’m recording. She did offer to stay, but Shayna said she could clean up after herself.” Another drunken chuckle escaped. “But she left the bed a mess. Shayna, not Rosa.”

“So then she was even more alone,” Quinn said. “Maybe one of your other exes called and started some shit. I don’t know. It’s hard enough to have a relationship with someone in the business even when you’re in it. Shayna’s not.” Quinn sighed. “Ask her about it when she calls. That’s the best solution. But whatever it is, you’re not going to be able to figure it out when you’re wasted. Get some sleep, and hopefully you’ll figure everything out in the morning. I gotta go now. We almost got this new song nailed down. Kinley says hi.”

Dante managed a smile. At least love was working for someone. He wondered if Klement had proposed to Kat yet. “Tell her ‘hi’ back.”

He hung up and fell into a drunken doze, and when he woke the morning light from the windows pierced his eyes like rusting nails. His head pounded, but a line from Shayna’s letter was whispering in his mind:

“I tried to call you.”

Slowly he sat up and reached for the phone, dialing the number from memory.

“Thrash Records,” Kevin answered.

Dante’s skull throbbed as he spoke. “Hey, it’s Dante,” he said. “Did my girlfriend try to call while I was there?”

“Shit, I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“And what did you say to her?” Dante’s voice was low and dangerous. Kevin sounded more bored than apologetic.

“Fuck, man, I told her what I tell all the girls. That this is a business and you were too busy to talk.”

Dante doubted that was all he’d said. “And did she say it was important?”

Kevin sighed. “Fuck, it’s always an emergency with them bitches. And you’re the one who said that you weren’t to be interrupted.”

“Well, in this case, it was an emergency, asshole.” Dante’s fist clenched on the receiver. “And if I have my way, you’re going to be looking for work soon.”

He slammed down the phone, barking out a string of curses. He could get Kevin fired if he wanted, but that didn’t change the fact that it really was his own fault. If he hadn’t been so militant about not being disturbed when he was working, Shayna’s call might have gotten through. He’d always put his work before his relationships.

For the first time, he regretted it.

The phone rang again. His heart leapt. Maybe it was her.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Is Shayna there?” a woman’s voice demanded.

“No, she went back to Oregon,” he grumbled, but he couldn’t hide his curiosity. “Who is this?”

“Ah, so you’re done with her already,” the woman said smugly, ignoring his question. “I told her so.”

A bitter smirk spread across Dante’s lips. It seemed he’d discovered what else had spooked Shayna. “Who is this?” he repeated, though he had a pretty good guess.

“This is Shayna’s mother,” the woman answered in a petulant voice. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh, I think it is,” Dante said silkily. “For one thing, you called me. For another, I could be calling you ‘Mom’ someday—or did you not take that possibility under consideration?”

Shayna’s mother gasped, whether in surprise or outrage because she didn’t like being wrong, Dante didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He continued before she could speak.

“Now that we’ve cleared that up, what exactly did you say to Shayna to imply that I was done with her?”

“Well…” The woman faltered, obviously unused to having a chink in her armor. “I was just trying to keep her head out of the clouds. After all, young man, I do read the tabloids. I know all about your type and I don’t want my little girl to be hurt. She’s just endured a tragedy and a failed marriage, after all, and some fantasy fling with a celebrity cannot be healthy for her, and furthermore…”

Dante sighed as he was subjected to a bilious outpouring of cynicism and thinly veiled insults. How Shayna had survived growing up under such formidable negativity he would never know, but the reasoning behind her exit became clear when Shayna’s mother began sketching a scene of her poor daughter patiently waiting at home while he toured and indulged in orgies with his groupies. What the hell was wrong with this woman? Had she dated a member of Led Zeppelin or something?

He carried the cordless office phone to the kitchen and set it on the counter as the grating voice rambled on. As he brewed some coffee, his mind reeled out an epiphany. When he’d told Shayna about the tour, she must have misunderstood him and thought he was leaving her behind—or worse, that he was possibly hinting that he was done with her, if these snide comments from Mommy Dearest were any indicator.

By the time the coffee was ready, the woman was still yammering. His patience gone, Dante cut her off.

“I have to go now, but if you haven’t completely poisoned Shayna against me, maybe we’ll drop by your place for a visit,” he told her. He heard another outraged squawk just before he hung up.

Dante sipped his coffee, a jubilant smile taking the edge off his hangover. No matter what Shayna thought, he was far from finished with her. And as for her dear old mom, he would deal with her later. She was a cantankerous broad, but maybe he could grow to like her. After all, she had called him “young.”

Dante took a quick shower and spent the next few hours making phone calls and packing his bags. On his way out the door, he glanced at the torn pieces of Shayna’s check on the coffee table. Inspiration struck, and he scooped up the shreds and put them in his pocket. He would have to make a short stop on his way to the airport.

Chapter Twenty-two

At Multnomah County Courthouse, in Portland, Oregon, Shayna shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench and took another sip of water. If she didn’t knock it off soon, she would have to pee in the middle of the trial and thus endure the wrath of the court for wasting more of their time, even though this whole situation was her ex-husband’s fault.

She watched the proceedings as if they were a TV program completely distant and unrelated to her. The stenographer dutifully typed away as the judge peered through his spectacles at a printout of Dante’s tour dates.

“As you can see, your honor,” Shayna’s lawyer said, “Dante Deity hasn’t performed anywhere near the Portland area in the last year, so it would have been impossible for them to have met before the time my client stated. Furthermore, he was still touring in Europe during the timeframe the plaintiff accuses.”

The mention of Dante’s name was like a spear to the heart, making her ache with longing. Her flight to Portland had been a disaster. The airline wouldn’t let her carry the pillowcases on the plane, so she was forced to leave them behind. She hadn’t realized her phone had been hastily shoved one of them. After an excruciatingly long layover in Las Vegas, she finally made it to Portland and purchased another, only to realize that she didn’t know her old number so she couldn’t have it ported. Even worse, she’d never bothered to memorize Dante’s house or cell number. She’d called the hotel that Dante was staying at, only to learn that he’d checked out the day after she’d left Sacramento.

Did that mean he’d finished early? Had he been calling to tell her that as she left his house? Had he later tried to call her on her old phone which was now being held at the airport? And when she didn’t answer, did he think she was done with him?

Dejected, she’d taken a cab to her hotel, lightened with hope as she got her agent’s number from her email and called Judy to see if she could track down Dante’s agent. He or she would have Dante’s number. Judy was able to get the agent’s number, but unfortunately, the guy refused to give out Dante’s. At least he’d promised to give Dante Shayna’s the next time they talked. But he didn’t sound like he was in a hurry.

Impotent fury made her want to throw her phone across the room. Dante had to think she was avoiding him by now.

Look, we’ll figure that out with him when you go back to Sacramento to get your bags, her strong inner voice reasoned. But at least it looks like you’re going to win this case, and at least you’re finally learning to stand on your own feet.

Yeah, Shayna answered silently, but it’s been lonely.

Her first two days back in Oregon had been a whirlwind of activity and frenetic self-indulgence. When she wasn’t meeting with her attorney, she’d been shopping and test-driving cars. She’d even got a tattoo of a little rainbow because it reminded her of that wonderful song Dante sang. Her mom voice balked at that choice, but the other voices cheered it on.

Despite Shayna’s attempts to stay busy, she couldn’t get Dante out of her mind. No matter how tired she was, dreams of him haunted her as she slept and lingered long after she woke. She’d begun obsessively checking her phone to see if he’d gotten her message from his agent and called, or if her ringer was broken.

Her hope of hearing his voice was dying a little every day. By the end of the week, she could no longer pretend that she was happy with her independence. Unable to stop herself, she re-downloaded all of his songs so that he could sing her to sleep every night, and her desperation rose to a furious peak when, due to a cancellation, her hearing was moved up three days before she anticipated. That means it would be over sooner, too.

Where would she go afterward? She had been renting a car and living in a hotel room, intending to go back to Sacramento and get a house and her own car as soon as the trial was over; then maybe she and Dante could date on more equal footing. But since she’d been unable to get hold of him, that idea was fading. What if, by the time she made it back to him, he’d already moved on? The thought of moving back there only to have him reject her made her stomach churn with humiliation.

The trial was underway. Soon she would be cast adrift, with only the keening wail of her heart for company.

“Just because he didn’t perform here doesn’t mean he didn’t come here for other purposes,” Shawn’s lawyer was saying. “After all, I’m certain he has a life outside of his work.”

Not really, Shayna countered silently, remembering with a fond smile Dante’s long hours locked away in his basement studio. It had been such a blissful time, actually, she in that office writing while he wrote his songs below. Another stab of pain gripped her chest. It was doubtful she’d ever have such ideal working conditions again.

“We’ve been over this ad nauseum,” Shayna’s attorney replied. “My client—”

The door suddenly opened, and loud gasps filled the room. Shayna turned, and her heart lodged in her throat. Dante Deity strode in, dressed in a tailored Italian suit that likely cost more than the judge’s wardrobe. Rubies glinted on his cufflinks. His hair was pulled back, accentuating his sculpted cheekbones.

“Dante!” Shayna gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“I want my pillowcases back, among other things.” He gave her that melting smile then and moved to take a seat.

Shawn’s eyes bulged and his face reddened. He quivered so alarmingly that Shayna felt a pang of concern despite her utter loathing of the man. Her lawyer visibly vacillated between glee and confusion.

The courtroom echoed with shocked mutters and whispers. The judge picked up his gavel but then sighed and set it down. “I call a twenty-minute recess, so the court can return to order and the council can determine if they want to call another witness,” he boomed through the noise with as much authority as he could muster.

Shayna tried to make her way to Dante, but her lawyer intercepted him first, leading him out the door. A throng of spectators blocked her path, temporarily preventing her from following. When at last she did make it outside, her belly leapt as she spotted Dante and her attorney. They were tucked away in an alcove.

She pushed her way forward. When she reached him, he tucked his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. She drowned in his gaze, her heart pounding. He looked back at her, and the world seemed to fall into a soft silence.

Her lawyer sighed. “You two can get a room later. For now we need to win this. To do that, you’re going to have to focus so I can ask Mr. Deity a few questions.”

It was difficult for Shayna to think of the case in the warmth of Dante’s presence, but she somehow managed, even though she was dying to explain about her stupid mistake with the pillowcases and to ask if he’d gotten her message. Dante told the story of how he’d met her, and how the relationship developed as he took care of her. When he was done, her attorney nodded.

“Well, it will be good to have a sworn statement that you two met after Shayna and the plaintiff were divorced, reiterating the fact that she was not committing adultery with you before he took his, ah, lover, as I am certain Mr. Jones’s counsel will try to imply.” Shayna’s lawyer’s expression sobered, making him look like a basset hound. “However, the circumstances in which the Ms. Gray came to Sacramento…well, I don’t know how to put this kindly, but there is a good chance that if those details come to light there could be an issue with Ms. Gray’s mental competence or stability.”

Shayna’s jaw dropped. “You mean they’ll say I’m crazy?”

“Well, in a legal sense…yes.” That hound-like face managed a weak smile. “However, I must say you appear perfectly sane to me, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I think the worst that could happen is the judge would then order you to undergo a psych evaluation. But that would tie things up longer.”

Dante put his arm around her. “It’s going to be okay, Shayna.” He looked at the lawyer. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Of course.” The attorney looked at the floor before looking back up and meeting his eyes. “Is there a chance I could get your autograph later? I used to be a huge fan.”

“Used to be?” Dante raised a brow, but his smile was teasing.

The attorney shifted uncomfortably. “I, well, my wife, you know…”

The rock star grinned. “Of course. As long as you keep doing Shayna good.”

The lawyer nodded and headed to the restroom. “Well, I’ll leave you alone for now.”

Finally alone with Dante and trembling, Shayna met his gaze, taking in his beautiful features as if she would be blinded at any moment.

He spoke before she could. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

A self-deprecating laugh tumbled from her lips. “The stupid pillowcases. They wouldn’t let me take them on the plane. My phone was in there. And when I got a new one, I didn’t know the old number.” She shook her head. “I need to catch up to the world and get the hang of that cloud backup thing the guy at the phone store was lecturing me about. Then I would have had your numbers too. Anyway, did you get the message I left your agent?”

Dante shook his head, visibly relieved at her explanation. “I just decided I wasn’t letting you go so easily. Anyway, I have something for you,” he said softly, reaching into his pocket. “Hold out your hand.”

She obeyed and frowned when he placed several pieces of torn paper in her outstretched palm. Closer scrutiny revealed that it was the remains of the check she wrote him. Shayna looked back up at Dante in confusion, her lips moving, struggling to form a response.

He silenced her with a level stare. “We’ll discuss that later, but for now I’ll just say that I warned you what would happen if you tried to repay me.”

Shayna reeled in puzzlement.

He held a velvet-covered box. She gave him a questioning look, which he returned with a knowing smile. Her hands shook as she opened the box, revealing an opulent sapphire necklace.

Memories of his joking threats to buy her jewelry returned, and a lump in her throat formed, eyes burning with unshed tears. “But…,” she whispered.

Dante took the box back and grinned. “If you argue with me, I may have to buy a ring sooner than is appropriate.”

He fastened the pendant around her neck as she clamored for a response. Her heart pounded and her skin tingled in exhilaration at his touch. A ring, did he seriously mean that—?

“You do still have that blue dress, right?” he asked as casually as if they were acquaintances at a dinner party.

“But you said you’d never go chasing after a woman,” Shayna whispered, drowning in his gaze.

Dante shook his head. “I said I’d never do it as a game.” He reached out and brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “This isn’t a game, Shayna. You need me to be here for you, don’t you?”

“Yes!” The gasp tore from her throat.

“Say it again.” The command didn’t match the pleading look in his eyes.

Dante needed to be needed, she realized. So, in a way, he needed her too. That understanding swelled warm feeling in her heart, blossoming like the most beautiful rose in the world.

“I need you,” she said firmly, and launched herself into his arms, tears of happiness brimming in her eyes. “I need you, Dante.” She stiffened as a thought came to her. “But what about your tour?” she asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for it?”

“Shhh. I’ve been a selfish ass for too long. You come first now.” He inclined his head toward the courtroom door where her lawyer was beckoning. “We need to take care of this first.”

His warm, strong hand grasped hers, filling her with renewed confidence. No matter what happened, everything would be okay. Better than okay, since Dante was with her.

Chapter Twenty-three

The moment they entered the courtroom, Shawn leapt to his feet and snarled at Dante. “Who do you think you are, you devil-worshiping freak? I bet you’re just with her to leech off of her money.”

Dante just laughed and stared him down until he reddened and looked away, aware of the stupidity of his statement. Dante then turned to Shayna and smiled. “We have yet to frolic naked in the moonlight like proper devil-worshippers. I shall have to correct that oversight.”

Shayna giggled as her ex’s eyes bulged. “Shayna-baby,” he said cajolingly, desperately, “Why—?”

She cut him off, and that strong voice in her head finally came from her lips. “Don’t you ever call me that again. I always hated it. In fact, I think I hated everything about you. You’re a selfish bastard, and you treated me like shit. When this is over, I hope I never see you again.”

Barely resisting the urge to spit on Shawn, she took Dante’s arm and marched to her seat, feeling like an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“Well,” Dante whispered in her ear, making her tingle. “Seeing that made it all worth it.”

The judge took his seat, and Dante was immediately called to the stand. He had to pound his gavel several times due to the excited whispers of the spectators; news traveled fast and there were twice as many as before.

Eventually, Dante was able to testify. He said that he hadn’t met Shayna until after her divorce was finalized. He did a beautiful job glossing over the facts, really, and over the circumstances leading up to the night they first met, but his effort was to no avail. With a smug smile Shawn’s lawyer approached the bench, holding two pieces of paper.

“I believe you are forgetting something, Mr. Deity. Please tell the court what condition the defendant was in when you first met her, and do remember that you are under oath.”

A chill ran down Shayna’s spine. This was what they had feared. Would the judge now look at her like she was a lunatic? What would that mean for the disposition of the case?

Dante didn’t flinch. He answered the question calmly, as if he were discussing the weather. “She was exhausted and had blisters on her feet. I took her to the hospital.”

Shawn’s lawyer grinned like a rabid shark. “But it was a little more serious than that. Allow me to refresh your memory.” He showed Dante the papers. “My client received this insurance claim report in the mail two weeks after the incident. Attached is a copy of the hospital’s treatment statement. This is your signature on the copay receipt, correct?”

When Dante nodded, the attorney presented the papers to the judge. “Ms. Gray was treated for extreme fatigue and multitudes of blisters from walking a great distance. From the enormity of the sores, it could be speculated that the defendant actually walked from her former home in Portland all the way to Sacramento.”

The judge’s brows rose almost to his hairline, and he lowered his spectacles to look at Shayna. “Did you?” he asked.

Shayna didn’t think anyone was supposed to ask her anything unless she was on the stand, but this was the judge and she wasn’t about to make him mad. Oh God, now I’m going to lose this thing.

“Yes, your honor,” she said weakly, so embarrassed she wished she could sink into a hole.

Shawn’s lawyer swiveled his pudgy neck to give her a smirk before turning back to the judge. “I believe this new evidence should lead us to question the defendant’s mental capacity at the time she filled out and submitted the divorce papers.”

Dante was questioned briefly on Shayna’s sanity and emotional stability. He declared that she had been mentally competent from the moment they met, and talked about her professionalism and dedication to her writing. “Any mother would suffer a bout of depression after losing a child, especially if her husband was not supportive…and was in fact having an affair in the midst of a tragedy like that. I think leaving such a selfish and disloyal spouse like Mr. Jones was the sanest thing she could do,” he finished with a smile.

Shawn leapt up from his seat. “You’re one to talk, you fu—”

“Silence!” the judge thundered. “Mr. Jones, you will be silent or you will be charged with contempt of court. The witness is dismissed from the stand and we will take a half hour recess while I deliberate.”

Everyone’s eyes seemed to bore holes in Shayna’s back as Dante led her out of the courtroom, holding tight to her hand. She clung to his grasp like a ship at anchor in a whirling storm. It was the longest half hour of her life.

“What if he wins?” she asked, huddled with Dante on a bench outside the door.

He shrugged and traced his finger in lazy circles on her palm. “So what if he does? It’s not like we can’t afford whatever he’s asking. It’s only money—and it’s not going to make him happy. Only your humiliation and degradation would, and we’ve cheated him of that. We’ve even given a little back.”

We. The word made Shayna’s heart surge with warmth.

Dante looked up and frowned. A woman with a plastic ID tag on her lapel was walking towards the courtroom, giving them an avid stare, and he clearly didn’t like it.

“The press is here,” he said. “No doubt they’re gathered outside with their cameras.” Giving her hand another reassuring squeeze, Dante continued, “Now, you don’t have to comment them, but you should do your best to look happy at the end of this.” With a wicked gleam in his eyes he added, “And maybe I’ll give Mr. Jones something to watch on TV tonight.”

Shayna smiled back. “I am happy, Dante…now that you’re here. I missed you so much that it hurt.”

His smile faded as he took her hands. “When I came home to find you gone, I thought it would kill me. I should have brought my cell so you could call me. I should have told you how I felt about you from the start. I should have been clearer in communicating with you and told you all of my plans.”

“Plans?” she inquired.

“Well, now that I’m here, I suppose I’ll still surprise you when this trial is finished.” He gave her the smile that she’d despaired of ever seeing again. His eyes smoldered, sending heat to her lower body before he brushed his lips across hers. “I can’t wait to get out of here so I can really kiss you.”

She felt like one of the heroines in her novels, at the verge of swooning from his words. A movement in the corner of her vision brought the world back into clarity, but it wasn’t Shawn’s baleful glare from across the hall that caught her attention. It was the sight of the woman with him.

Shawn must have made the girl wait outside. Shayna almost didn’t recognize her without her Pepsi uniform—or nude, as she’d seen in the pictures emailed to Shawn. Too bad Shayna hadn’t saved them. Shawn’s lawyer had regaled their affair to hearsay. Her name was either Laura or Lauren; Shayna couldn’t remember which. Not that it mattered.

For a moment, the two women’s eyes met. Then Laura-or-Lauren’s gaze flicked to Dante and then back to Shayna. The woman’s face was full of envy and a touch of regret. But then Shawn turned to her and said something in that scolding tone that never failed to turn Shayna’s stomach, and Shayna was unable to feel any triumph. She only had pity for the woman who would now be subjected to his bullying.

They all filed back into the courtroom. Shayna studiously ignored the news reporters, knowing it was only a temporary reprieve.

Dante held her hand tight, imparting his strength as the judge read his verdict.

“From the evidence gathered, it is revealed that if the defendant were to pay the plaintiff half of her royalties earned during the time of their marriage, the total would add up to approximately twenty thousand dollars.” The judge adjusted his spectacles. “However, the defendant signed away property, joint income, and assets totaling over ten times that. It seems to me that if this case is pursued it would only be fair for the parties to renegotiate a fair distribution of said assets.”

He glanced at Shayna and coughed. “And, as for the issue of Ms. Gray’s mental capacities at the time the divorce agreement was signed, they wouldn’t change the fact that the plaintiff did indeed sign said papers.”

“But I didn’t know that—,” Shawn sputtered.

The judge silenced him with a level stare. “Mr. Jones, there is sufficient documentation here to prove that you were aware your former wife was receiving royalties. It is your own fault that you were not paying attention when you signed your joint tax returns. Thus, besides providing the novelty of a celebrity appearance”—his irritated gaze implied that Dante’s appearance was anything but—“you wasted the court’s time.” His gaze encompassed the rest of the room. “I hereby order this case dismissed. Mr. Jones is required to pay court costs within ninety days.” He tapped his gavel. “Court is adjourned.”

Dante gave Shawn an evil smirk before taking Shayna in his arms.

Time vanished. Shayna savored the bliss of his embrace. Unfortunately, that embrace ended too soon as they made their way out of the building and were intercepted by a reporter. Shawn was already ensconced with another down the hall, speaking heatedly as Laura-or-Lauren looked on with an increasingly worried expression.

“I’m with the Portland Press,” the reporter said to Shayna, cradling an iPad and stylus in her hands. “I was hoping you’d like to say a few words about the case.”

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Shayna told her. “As for everything else, I have no further comment.”

Dante gave her an approving nod. Feeling like a pro, she took his hand and walked away.

A new mob greeted them outside the courthouse, despite the fact that there were only two news vans parked there. Most of the masses were…fans? And to Shayna’s surprise, the majority of them were her fans, if the books in their hands were any indicator.

Dante held up his hands, also clearly surprised. “I had nothing to do with this, I swear. When it comes to you, I’m done with surprises.”

After so many years of her mother and ex-husband trying to convince Shayna that she was worthless, that no one would ever truly care about her, she finally fully accepted the fact that they had lied. Her work was important and her readers did care. Lots. At the sight of the smiling women holding copies of her books, being an author had never seemed more rewarding.

Although Shayna wanted nothing more than to be alone with Dante, she couldn’t turn away from the kind words of the multitudes of women approaching her, nor refuse their shy requests to sign their books. Several people were there to ask for Dante’s autograph as well, and Shayna looked up from her pen for a moment to smile at a leather-clad metal fan and a prim middle-aged woman mingling cheerfully on the courthouse lawn. Judging from the heat in their eyes, Shayna was betting they would continue their discussion privately later. It seemed she and Dante’s union might have an impact on the metal-music and romance-reader cultures.

Shayna’s fans formed a protective huddle around her while Dante said a few words to the reporters. Shayna sighed. Soon she would have to learn how to handle these sorts of things herself. Her heart swelled in gratitude when they acted as an honor guard while she and Dante made their way to her car. Cheers echoed around Shayna and Dante as they got inside.

Shayna glanced at Dante as she drove off. “How did you get here?”

“I took a cab.” He fixed her with an intent stare. “This was a fast trip. I bought you a plane ticket back to Sacramento for Friday if you want to come with me.”

Her heart soared. “I’d planned to anyway—to get the pillowcases full of my stuff that the airport’s holding, and to talk to you to see if you still wanted to be with me.”

“Of course I still want to be with you,” he said as the cab pulled up to the hotel and they got out. “When you didn’t answer my calls, I was afraid that you were done with me. That you wouldn’t let me come up here and help you with the trial.” He frowned, his expression suddenly foreboding. “I can’t believe my agent didn’t give me your message. Maybe I need to find another one.”

“No,” Shayna protested. “He was only looking out for your best interests. For all he knew, I could have been some crazy, lying groupie—or we could have broken up and I was looking to get back at you. This mix-up was all my fault.”

Dante’s vengeful look vanished as he chuckled and shook his head. “I still can’t believe you took my pillowcases.”

They laughed as they entered the hotel and took the elevator up to her room.

“Yeah, it’s not the first impulsive, idiotic idea I’ve had.” She sobered. “I’d honestly thought that you’d be too busy getting ready for your tour anyway.”

“About the tour…” Dante gave her a mischievous grin. “I know I said I was done with surprises, but I have one more for you.” He pulled out his wallet and took out a folded sheet of paper. “I meant to give you this when I came home from the recording studio, but I suppose a lot of trouble could have been avoided if I’d not kept it secret.”

Shayna frowned as she unfolded the paper. It was a list of his concert dates and locales coinciding with romance conventions and bookstores available to do signings.

Her eyes widened. “You want me to come with you on the tour?”

He nodded. “I’d meant for you to come with me all along, and I thought you knew as well but were just scared.” He frowned. “And then your mother called and I—”

“Oh my God,” Shayna interrupted in shock. “My mother called? She usually never calls. It gives her an excuse to nag at me for not calling her.” She stopped, the implications of Dante’s words becoming clear. “Wait, what did she say to you? And what did you say to her?”

Dante sighed. “Well, I was hungover and in a shitty mood, so I kind of ignored most of the vitriol. The basic gist was she assumed I’d thrown you out of the house and was importing a harem as we spoke.” He gripped her shoulders with a horrified look on his face. “Good God, Shayna, how did you survive growing up with her?”

She chuckled. “I ask myself the same question every day. How did you survive your encounter with her?”

“I asked her if she considered the possibility that I could call her Mom someday and suggested that we may pay her a visit.”

Shayna’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t!”

Dante nodded, smiling wickedly. “We don’t have a show booked anywhere in Montana, but I’m sure I could have that arranged. Besides, you said you’d take me to pick huckleberries sometime.” He shrugged and sat on the bed. “Anyway, about this…” He pointed at the list she held. “All you need to do is call your publicist and let her know which of these you’ll be able to do and they can help you set things up.”

Shayna thought he couldn’t surprise her more, but this statement proved her wrong. “You talked to my publicist?”

He nodded. “The acknowledgements section in your book helped.”

Her brow rose slightly as her agent’s words suddenly made sense. “Has your boyfriend said anything about the tour yet? My husband and I got tickets to the show in Vegas. I was a metal-head in my day, you know. Maybe you can see about getting us backstage passes.”

“God, I feel so stupid,” she said finally. “Judy even asked me about the tour, but with the lawsuit and the way the guy at your recording studio talked to me, I almost thought she was making fun of me.”

Dante frowned. “You were under a lot of stress. Still, we really need to work on your confidence.”

He’s right, her childish inner voice said.

We’re getting better, the strong voice retorted.

Shayna nodded at Dante and couldn’t help asking, “Are the groupies that bad?”

“Not as bad as they used to be. Still, they can get a little overzealous at times. But there is one way we can fend them off.” He seized her and pulled her onto his lap. “You can be my groupie,” he said, nibbling on her neck.

Before she could melt in his arms, the strong voice made itself known again. “Only if you’ll be my groupie at the romance conventions.”

He laughed as he removed her jacket. “Are men even allowed at those things?”

“Yeah, but they’re usually outnumbered.” She leaned over, him, brushing her breasts against his chest as she picked up his list. “This one will have a historical costume ball. If you don’t come, I’ll be stuck dancing with the topless cover models. Then again,” she teased, “maybe that won’t be too much of a hardship.”

“I’ll show you a hardship,” he growled as he gripped her hips and ground them against his. Then he took her lips in an all-consuming kiss and there was no more to say.

Or so she’d thought. In moments they’d pulled off each other’s clothes, but when Dante saw the small rainbow tattooed just above her right hipbone, he sucked in a sharp breath.

“It made me think of that song you sang to me,” Shayna whispered, then she gasped as his tongue flicked across the tiny bands of color.

His smile eclipsed the vivid hues. “Shayna Gray, I love you.”

He entered her in one smooth thrust. “I love you,” he repeated.

Shayna clung to him, her eyes welling up with tears of joy. “I love you too, Dante Deity—Rock God.”

Hours later, when they were panting and replete, Shayna ran her fingers through Dante’s hair. Her heart continued to thud in awe of her new happiness.

“Thank you, Dante,” she whispered.

“For what?” he asked sleepily.

She smiled. “For giving this romance author a real happily-ever-after.”

Epilogue

Shayna stood beside Kat and Kinley, behind one of the sound engineers, watching Dante and his band take the stage after Rage of Angels took their bow. To Shayna’s surprise, after a long talk with their lead singer Dante had forgiven the band and allowed them to join the tour. Her heart fluttered at his nobility and kindness as she fixed her gaze on him. He looked so beautiful and godlike that she couldn’t believe he’d been snuggled up with her only this morning.

As the crowd roared and Dante’s rich voice filled the arena, Kat laughed at the blissful look on Shayna’s face. “No one will ever do it quite like him.”

Shayna grinned and admired Kat’s gorgeous engagement ring. Her band and Klement’s, Bleeding Vengeance, had played the last set, and Klement had shocked everyone when he nudged the singer away from the microphone and publicly proposed to her.

Kinley nodded. “Yeah, but Quinn’s voice will always be my favorite.”

“Duh,” Kat said before turning back to Shayna. “Are you still taking notes on the show?”

Shayna nodded and held up her notebook. Kat and Kinley ran a heavy metal fan website and had hired her to be a guest blogger, along with Quinn’s little sister. She’d learned a lot about a journalist’s perspective, which had improved her posts on her own author website.

Truly, her relationship with Dante and her involvement in the metal world had wrought unfathomable results to her career. She’d toured countless cities for book signings, and this weekend they’d also be attending a romance convention. Her appearances gave her more opportunities not only to interact with her readers, but also to overcome her shyness. Now that confident voice came consistently from her mouth instead of remaining in her head. That left more room for her book characters to talk to her.

After Dante finished the opening song, she cheered along with the crowd. He turned to give her a heart-melting smile before returning to the microphone.

“This next song is a new one I wrote, inspired by an awesome book I read. I dedicate it to the author, Shayna Gray.”

He looked back at her again and winked at her startled expression as a medieval style guitar melody played. Then Dante’s velvety voice poured forth like warm rum. He sang of a knight whose lands had been seized and how he’d taken up a lute and become a minstrel, though never losing sight of reclaiming his birthright and the heart of the woman he loved.

Shayna gasped. He’d written a song about her book! Tears filled her eyes as she watched him raptly. Was it possible to fall even deeper in love with him?

After the set was finished and Dante lifted her into his arms and claimed her lips in a mind-bending kiss, she concluded that it was.

“Did you like my song?” he asked.

“It was incredible,” she breathed.

“Good, because I’m going to perform it at the costume ball at the convention tonight.” He chuckled as she gasped. “If pictures get out in the metal magazines, I’ll probably get teased, but I don’t care. Your publisher thinks it will be brilliant.”

“I think you’re brilliant.” She caressed his cheek.

“Well, I couldn’t let Klement be the king of romantic gestures.” He pulled her into his arms. “Not when I’m with a romance author.”

Thinking of Klement’s proposal, Shayna wondered when her own was going to come. Rosa had asked Dante if they were engaged yet when she texted him about his mail and told him which rooms she’d dusted while they were gone. Dante had read the text aloud to Shayna with a secretive smile.

“Not yet,” he’d said before texting her back.

He kissed her one more time before heading backstage to greet his fans and sign autographs while Shayna posted pictures of the concert on Facebook and Twitter.

Finally it was over. As Dante led her out to their rented car to head to the convention, she couldn’t help but think of the first concert where they’d met. How far they’d come.

He stopped so suddenly that Shayna almost tripped. “Son of a bitch,” he whispered.

Shayna followed his gaze to see Quinn’s sister, Chrissy, getting into Bleeding Vengeance’s tour bus with none other than the lead singer, Cliff Tracey, who was reputed to be a total manwhore.

Dante continued to glare at the bus. “Quinn’s going to be furious.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Shayna asked.

“The old me would have,” he said. “Now I think I’ll let him handle his own business. I’m occupied with you.” He grinned. “Besides, Chrissy’s a grown woman—and who ever knows how this sort of thing will work out?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Formerly an auto-mechanic, Brooklyn Ann thrives on writing romance featuring unconventional heroines and the heroes who adore them. An author of historical paranormal romance in her critically acclaimed Scandals with Bite series, urban fantasy in the cult-favorite Brides of Prophecy novels, and contemporaries in the Reader’s Choice Award–Winning Hearts of Metal series, she provides love for the broken and strange.

She lives in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho with her son, miscellaneous horror memorabilia, and a 1980 Datsun 210.

ALSO BY BROOKLYN ANN

The Hearts of Metal Series

Kissing Viciöus

With Vengeance

Did you enjoy this book? Drop us a line and say so! We love to hear from readers, and so do our authors. To connect, visit www.boroughspublishinggroup.com online, send comments directly to info@boroughspublishinggroup.com, or friend us on Facebook and Twitter. And be sure to check back regularly for contests and new releases in your favorite subgenres of romance!

Are you an aspiring writer? Check out www.boroughspublishinggroup.com/submit and see if we can help you make your dreams come true.