Authors: Desiree Holt
Aftershock
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Aftershock
Copyright © 2014 by Desiree Holt
ISBN: 978-1-61333-678-6
Cover art by Fiona Jayde
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
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Aftershock
By
Desiree Holt
~Dedication~
Jackie. You will always be my Number One Guitar.
I hope you enjoy your role in the story.
Remember they’re excited. Jacked up about it. Cut them a little slack.
But not too much.
Rick Trajean, acknowledged leader of the hot rock band Lightnin’, knew how jazzed they all were. Excitement snapped and crackled in the empty theater where they were rehearsing. Rick looked out at the seats and imagined them filled with a cheering crowd. His pulse accelerated and his breath caught in his throat.
Danny and Garrett are younger than Marc and me. This is their first real taste of celebrity
.
Yeah
, the other half of his brain said,
but they need to grow up in a hurry so they don’t screw this up
.
Then we damn well better get to rehearsing.
Okay, so act like the top dog you are and pull them together. Time to set the mood and get everyone revved up.
The voice in his head was on full throttle, reminding him this was their future. Right here, right now.
Danny Chavez, the lead singer, had his earbuds in, listening to the most recent rehearsal of a new song. Newlywed Marc Malone, bassist extraordinaire, tuned his bass, back to everyone.
Lucky son of a bitch
.
Not that Rick begrudged Marc and Emma one minute of their happiness. If not for Marc and his family, Rick, along with his mother and his sister, would have been dangling in the wind when Rick’s dad walked out on them. He just…. He just….
He just yanked himself back to the situation at hand.
“Okay, guys.” He rapped his knuckle on the stool next to him. “Stop gabbing like a bunch of women. We have some hard, hard work to do.”
“We got the idea, oh mighty leader,” Garrett joked. “You can put away the whip.”
Rick grinned. “I’m glad to see you acknowledge my exalted position.”
Laughter broke the rising tension and all eyes focused on him. This was the first day of the rest of their lives, and Rick wanted to make sure there weren’t any missteps. A month ago, they had been just a band on the rock-club circuit in L.A. Now they were about to cut a CD, were opening for best-selling Deep Blue River on national tour, and DBR’s manager Butch Meredith, had them under contract. “You’re the one who brought us here,” Marc pointed out. “Gave us the drive and the discipline.”
The others added their own affirmations. Emotion threatened to swamp Rick, forcing him to take a deep, steadying breath.
“Then let’s get this rehearsal started. ‘Low Down Man’
is first up
.
I think a couple of the passages are still a little mushy.”
“You like it because you wrote it,” Danny teased.
“He likes it because it’s good.” Marc adjusted his bass. “Rick? I’m set to go here.”
Garrett tapped the beat on the rim of a drum, Rick hit the downstroke on his guitar, and they swung into the opening bars of the song. He moved his body to the beat, foot tapping to the hard-rock rhythm. The heavy bass vibrated through his body along with the rhythm of the drums. Danny’s voice had exactly the right sound of huskiness for the words, supported by Marc’s rich baritone when he came in on the harmony. It continued to amaze Rick that after all this time he could still so easily lose himself in the music. Transport himself to a different place. They stopped two or three times when a particular passage didn’t sound right or a riff was off, then took it from the top again.
Click, click, click
.
The sound distracted him and he missed the next riff. Irritated, he lifted his gaze and looked out into the semidarkness.
And nearly swallowed his tongue.
A vision straight from his wildest fantasies marched down the aisle between the empty seats.
Holy shit!
He almost drooled at the curves her tailored business suit didn’t hide very well. Thick auburn hair held by a clip swept back from her face, the rich cluster of curls tumbling past her shoulders. The style accentuated the planes of her face and highlighted her rich, full lips and the thick lashes framing her eyes. And her legs! Jesus! Emphasized by the high heels she wore, those legs seemed to go on forever.
As she closed in on the stage, she looked up at him, and every bit of breath left his body. His muscles tightened and, unbelievably, his cock swelled and pushed against his fly. Stunned by the intensity of his reaction to her, he blinked in an attempt to clear his brain. Not that it did him any good. Not even the obvious
Attitude
with a capital
A
tamped down his response. He opened his mouth to speak, only his brain seemed to have quit functioning.
Without his lead guitar in the mix, the music stopped completely and he heard the shuffling of feet behind him.
What the hell does she want?
He didn’t have long to wait to find out. The mouthwatering vision climbed the steps to the stage as if she owned them and came to stand in front of him. Up close, he got an even better view of how well her tailored suit hugged her figure. How the jacket, so carefully buttoned, dipped casually at the waist before coming to rest on her hipline. His gaze was drawn to the upper swell of her breasts, just visible above the vee of her jacket. It was all he could do not to lick his lips.
But some invisible thread had morphed out of the atmosphere and connected them.
Warning bells clanged in his brain.
Trouble.
She smiled and held out a hand. “Sydney Alexander. Full Moon Promotions.”
Full Moon. Oh, yeah. Butch had explained they’d handle the promo for the tour and someone would get in touch with him. But now? In the middle of rehearsal? Without calling first? What kind of a nitwit was she? Biting back a quick retort, he took the offered hand, then didn’t know which bothered him more. His irritation that she’d popped in like this, or the sudden voltage that zapped him.
Well, shit
.
“Rick Trajean. But I’m sure you know who I am.”
She nodded. “Butch gave us photos of all of you. And, of course, I’ve seen the videos.” She looked around. “Where’s the best place for us to sit down and talk?”
Rick stared at her. “About what? In case you didn’t notice, we’re in the middle of a rehearsal. If I’d known you planned to show up, I would have arranged our schedule to accommodate you.”
Her tongue wet her full bottom lip, colored a rich ruby red, and again Rick had to stop himself from staring.
Crap!
“This is important, Rick.” She smiled at him. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first, but I’m excited about this assignment.” She looked at the others. “It has to do with the upcoming tour.”
That smile. For a long moment, he stood there, trapped by an emotion he couldn’t name. And didn’t want to.
Then he glanced at the band. Everyone stared at the little tableau, eyes agleam with avid curiosity. Part of it, no doubt, because of Sydney herself.
He shook his head. “Understood. But rehearsal is at the top of the list for us. If we go out on the stage and we suck, that’ll be the end of everything. So whatever you’ve got will have to wait.”
He made his voice as firm as possible, but he wished his body would behave itself. Not like he hadn’t seen a hot woman before.
She chuffed a sigh. “Fine. Fine. I’m anxious to get started, is all. I thought this would be the best time to get together.”
Rick managed to pull his brain together. He had a very strong hunch this was Sydney Alexander’s first major assignment with Full Moon, and she wanted to make her bones with Lightnin’. On the one hand, it ticked him off a little to have Full Moon send a neophyte to handle them. On the other, she had to have been with them a while to get this assignment. Plus, she might work extra hard to get the job done.
“Okay, rehearsal comes first, but yes, we need to talk about what the agency has in mind for us. I’ll be the one you discuss it with, and I take it back to the band.” He looked at his watch. “We’ll be working about two more hours. I’m sure you must have some very important things to do in the meantime. Then we can meet and go over…whatever it is you have to talk to me about.”
“Fine.” She managed another smile, even while drawing the attitude around her like a cloak. Fire, so bright it scorched him, glinted in eyes greener than emeralds. “Two hours. Do you know where Coffee and More is?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll meet there.” She turned away, then stopped and looked back at him, giving him that smile again. He thought his heart would stop. “Be prepared to spend some time with me. Okay? We have a lot to discuss.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her his best slow grin. “Miss Sydney Alexander.”
She marched down the steps and up the aisle, her skyscraper heels tapping harder with each step. Rick’s eyes were drawn involuntarily to the sway of her hips and the smooth stride of those long legs. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull her into his arms and taste those sinful lips or tell her to get lost. How could one woman incite such an emotional conflict in so short a time?
Well, he’d take care of their business in the appropriate manner. If nothing else, when it came to the band he was all business, all the time.
“Wow!” Danny said into the silence. “I’d like to get me some of that.”
Rick spun around and pinned him with a look. “This has to do with our careers, you idiot. And you don’t shop in the company store.”
Danny, always irrepressible, seemed unfazed by Rick’s attitude. “I’m just sayin’. You know?”
“Well, say something else.” He shifted his gaze to Garret, his look questioning.
Garret held up his hands. “I’m set to work, boss. That’s all.”
Rick knew he didn’t even have to check with Marc. He couldn’t see any woman but his fiancée. He hoped whatever role Sydney Alexander played in their lives, his musicians would remember the tough climb to get to this point and not fuck it up in some stupid manner.
“All right. I’ll meet with her and find out what this is all about. Meantime, we have work to do. Let’s run through ‘Hot Doggin’.’”