Rhythm of My Heart: Speed, Book 3 (13 page)

“Brilliant. She’s so excited about turning four. She can’t wait for her princess aunty to charm all her friends.”

“I’ll do my best. Promise.”

“’Course you will. See you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

“You too.”

Eve clicked the end button and padded over to the bathroom to shower, wishing her photo had never made headline news.

She paused to stare in the mirror. The cameras hadn’t filmed the real her. Like Zachary, the images hadn’t picked up on the scars on her face which stood out now in stark relief, a lattice of red lines crisscrossed over her left cheek.

Zachary found her attractive and Bree had said she’d looked stunning in the video.

Eve’s laughter filled the bathroom, a hollow, humorless sound. Obviously neither of them was seeing her now. Because the reflection that stared back at Eve was in no way attractive. It was disfigured by thirty-seven hideous marks.

The umpteen scar reduction treatments had allowed her to fully cover those scars with her makeup. But when the foundation came off, there was no hiding the blemishes.

She almost threw herself into the shower. The sooner she washed, the sooner she could arm herself with her protective makeup. Because there was no chance, none at all, that Zachary—or the rest of the world for that matter—would be seeing her without that mask.

Chapter Eight

“I wish you’d stayed the night.” Zachary’d barely shut Eve’s door when he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her against him. “Still say we both would have slept better if you’d been with me.”

Without waiting for her reply he dropped his head and kissed her. Took her mouth with his as he’d been aching to do since he woke up.

“Mmm,” she said dreamily when they drew apart. “Good morning to you too.”

“Morning, Tiny.” He loosened his hold but only enough so he could step back to admire her gorgeous body. The lapels of her thick terrycloth robe had parted slightly at the front, revealing her pert breasts.

Zachary took a moment to enjoy the visual feast. “Perfect,” he murmured before dragging his gaze back to meet hers.

She jumped, startled. “What the…?” Her mouth fell open and she gaped up at him. “Zachary?” She touched his eyebrow, ran her finger around his eye.

“Ah. Yeah.” She’d noticed his eye color. He shrugged, liking her touch—shocked though it may be. “Maybe I should have said something last night.”

“Maybe. Brown? Is this your real color?”

“It is. The green comes compliments of colored contacts. We all wear them when we’re
Speed
.”

“You, Jamie and Jordan?”

“Yeah. Me, Jamie and Jordan. Actually, me, Nathan and Seth.”

“Their real names?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, false names, false eye color. Does it help?”

“With what?”

“Distancing your real selves from the general public.”

Smart woman. The exact reason they’d chosen contacts and stage names. “It does. To a degree.” Nathan had suggested the lenses. Zachary had recommended the color. It was his way of incorporating his future into his present.

“I like your eyes brown.” She hadn’t stopped staring at them. “They’re…softer, warmer. Make you more approachable. And…”

“And?”

“And brown looks good on you.” She shivered and pressed herself against him. “Like really good.”

Zachary growled. “If I’d known you’d like my real color better than the green, I’d have trashed the lenses before you left earlier. Maybe then you wouldn’t have gone.”

“I would have been real tempted to stay,” she confessed. “But, as I said, there was the whole sleep issue, Mr. Pace. We both needed it.”

“I needed you more than I needed sleep.” He grinned at her choice of name. “Ya know, you and I have done it.
Had sex
,” he added with a stage whisper
.
“It’s okay to drop the ‘mister’ bit.”

“Okay then…Pace.” She frowned. “Pacey.” She nodded this time.

“Pacey?”

“It’s either Pacey, Speedo or Zacko. And, well, no to Speedo. Just…no. And whacko Zacko sounds too familiar. So Pacey it is.”

“And Zac won’t work?”

“You don’t strike me as a Zac.”

He’d never been a Zac. Had always preferred Zachary.

“Besides, you’re in Australia now. We have to give you an Australian name.”

“And Pacey’s Australian?”

“Sure. In the same way sucking dingo balls is.”

“You Aussies are crazy.”

She grinned. “You’ll learn to love us.”

Zachary suspected she was right. In fact, he might already be just a little in love with her.

He took her mouth in another kiss, this one leaving him panting and aroused. When he pulled away, she melted against him. Melted into him. And lifted her head to kiss him again. A sweet, delicious kiss he felt all the way down to his toes.

She had him aroused and utterly charmed.

Eve smiled when it was over, her lips more pink than red.

No lipstick? The rest of her face was perfectly made up. Hmm, did he prefer the cherry-red look he hadn’t been able to resist last night, or the natural pink of her flesh, which made him want to spread her before him and explore other pink parts of her?

Zachary couldn’t choose. Didn’t try. They both made him hot.

“Zachary?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a father?”

He stumbled backward, still holding Eve, and had to dance around ungracefully to find his balance. “Jesus. There’s a question you don’t hear every time you kiss a girl.” He dropped his arms and took a step back.

“Shit.” She flushed and smacked her forehead. “That so didn’t come out like I meant it to. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked like that. Shouldn’t put you on the spot. In fact, I shouldn’t have asked at all.”

The woman seemed to have a flair for putting him on the spot. “Why did you?” He already knew the answer though. She’d heard the rumors. Hell, the whole world had heard the rumors.

That didn’t stop the unease from creeping up his spine.

“I…my sister mentioned it this morning.”

“You discussed me with your sister?” Zachary stiffened.

Experience had taught him to be wary. Rumors spread, fast and furious. A quick call to family or friend was all it took for the press to get involved. And when the press got involved private situations became public fodder—most of the time exaggerated beyond recognition.

On the other hand, who was he to criticize a woman for talking to her sister? Didn’t he talk to his brothers about shit that happened in his life? Maybe he should view her conversation as a compliment.

A part of him would feel complimented, he acknowledged, if she hadn’t mentioned the damn baby shit.

“She phoned me to discuss the papers. We spoke.”

Wait. “What papers?”

Her face dropped. “The
news
papers.”

Never mind the unease up his spine. His whole body turned cold. “What about the newspapers?”

“Nothing much.” Her gaze wandered over his shoulder. “Just me. With you. On page one—and three—of the Australian morning newspapers. Your tongue in my mouth. Nothing huge. Oh, and maybe a video of us pashing on the Internet.”

Shit.

Damn.

Fuck it all.

“Wait, what? Pashing?”

“Kissing, mate. Frenching. Making out like teenagers.” She fluttered her hand nonchalantly towards the television. “It’s on the telly too. All the news shows are broadcasting it. And there may be a few YouTube videos making the rounds.”

She said it all very calmly, as though it didn’t affect her at all. But her eyes were huge, she couldn’t look at him and darts of panic flashed across her face. Her fingers feathered over her cheek.

“Christ, I’m sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t think. Didn’t check the papers or let Luke know.” Of course this was going to happen. He’d known it as soon as he’d worked out what the blinding flashes of light had been when he’d kissed her. He’d just gotten so caught up in Eve that he’d forgotten all about it.

For once he’d met a woman he found more important than his reputation.

The band manager was bound to have seen the papers by now. Watched the broadcasts. He was probably banging on Zachary’s door right now, attempting to initiate damage control.

Zachary hated this shit. Passionately. He’d been burned badly by the press, and had no doubt they were clamoring to burn him again. So long as they got their story, anything they wrote was okay.

Which was why any interviews Zachary now participated in were conducted on his terms. Period.

But regardless of how much he hated them, hated the paparazzi, and no matter how valid his reasons were for hating them, he was used to them. Knew what to expect. Eve had no experience at all. In her shoes, he’d also be nervous.

He grimaced. “I should have realized this would happen. Did realize. I just… Shit, with everything that happened between us, I didn’t give it another thought.”
Stupid
. Why hadn’t he tried to protect her from this crap?

Because he couldn’t? Because when it came to the media he was just a pawn to be used for another sensational story?

“Did they know who you were?” he asked. “Identify you by name?”

She shook her head.

Okay, so that was good. A lucky break, at least. But it wouldn’t last. If her sister had recognized her, chances were high someone else had too. Any member of the crew could have identified her.
Sure, I know her. She’s the makeup artist for
Speed
’s back-up singers.

Christ, now what? Did he tell her it would probably get worse? That the photos might haunt her for a while? The photos
and
the video.

Stories were going to fly. Before she knew it, she’d hear she was engaged to Jonah. Or secretly married to him. Maybe preparing for their first child. Or second. The press would scratch up whatever they could about her. Anything in her past she didn’t want known, they’d know about it.

The paparazzi would dog her every move.

Bastards.

Furious, with himself and with the press, he led her to the bed, urging her to sit on it.

She perched on the edge, and he crouched before her.

“Eve, I wish I could say differently. This might take a while to fade from the media. People are going to talk about it for some time.”

She gave a dejected sigh. “Yeah, I kinda figured that out.”

He didn’t want to scare her, but she had to be prepared. “The paparazzi are going to be searching for you. They’ll follow your every move. Bang on your door—and mine—for a photo.”

“Charming.”

She didn’t know the half of it. “The press is going to scratch around in your past, look for any piece of dirt they can dig up on you.”

Eve blanched. Her face turned pale, so white that even beneath her makeup, Zachary could make out her ghostly pallor.

Someone banged on the door.

Eve started, staring at said door in horror.

“No,” he soothed her instantly. “No, that’s not them. They can’t get to you here. Not in the hotel. There’s security posted all over the place.”

Another bang on the door. “Eve? Are you in there?”

Zachary leapt to his feet. Thank God. Not a moment to soon. He let Luke in.

“Thought I might find you here,” his buddy said in greeting.

“Luke.” Zachary knew his voice reflected his relief.

“Dry spell over?” his friend asked, a hint of amusement in his voice, although his eyes were dead serious.

“You noticed.”

“The whole world noticed.” Luke chuckled. “No small measures for you. When you break the shackles of your self-restraint, you do it in style. In front of an audience of hundreds. Millions.”

Zachary grimaced.

“We’ll deal with it. We’ll get through it. Just like we’ve gotten through other crises.” Luke’s hand on his shoulder was comforting. Or it should have been, if his knuckles didn’t look bruised and raw. His whole hand was swollen. Both his hands were.

“Jesus, Luke, what the—?”

Luke dropped his hand. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. An incident while training last night.”

Zachary searched has face. Luke looked okay. He looked…happy? No, “content” would be a better word. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He smiled then, a smile Zachary had never seen on his friend’s face.

And just like that, he knew. Seth had finally worn Luke down. Finally got him to commit. Fuck knew he’d only been trying for eight years.

Way to go, little brother.

He grinned at Luke, forgetting, for just a moment, that Luke’s hands were damaged and that the press was trying to rip his life apart. Again. His life and Eve’s. “So, you and Seth finally—”

Luke held his hand up in warning. “Don’t say it. Don’t even go there. And I swear if I hear the words
I told you so
, I will snap every one of your drumsticks in half.”