Rockstar (10 page)

"You don't know that. You don't know what's in his heart."

Summer let out a huff at that. “I know his kind."

"That's not fair."

"Life's not fair.” Summer threw up her hands. “If it was then I wouldn't have ever written that damn article. I wouldn't have stupidly sent it to my boss and I wouldn't be standing here right now arguing with you about it."

"I raised you better than that, Summer Staite.” Ann moved slowly, lifting her coffee cup to her lips and sipping before setting it back down with fluid ease. “I raised you to fight for what you want."

Summer shook her head. Tears stung the back of her eyes though she refused to let them fall. “I won't fight for a man who won't fight for me."

She turned then and headed down the hall to the guest bedroom that had once been her domain.

"You have to give him a chance to,” her mother's words echoed down the hall after her.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Anthony turned up his collar then donned his dark sunglasses. Without a word to Trigger, he threw open the car door then slammed it shut behind him. He crossed the sidewalk and slipped into the café.

It had been nearly a month since the whole ordeal with the
Stripped
article, and thankfully, interest in that area of his life was dwindling. He'd gone home. Retreated to his sister's house outside of Seattle to take some time off and get his head back in the game.

There had been no further mention of his name in
Stripped
, no articles published under Summer's name, and he'd noted with a hint of retribution that a new editor's name graced the inside cover.

Without kindling for their fire the story had burned out and the media lost interest. There were other celebrities to be caught with their pants down around their ankles. More willing participants for their game.

He pulled open the door to the café. Kara greeted him with a pretty smile.

"Morning, handsome, your table is open.” She flashed him a knowing wink then turned and let him be.

His celebrity status had never fazed Kara. She didn't care who he was or what he did. To her he was just Tony. The same old Tony she'd always known. The Tony he had been before he'd become a rockstar. The thought gave him pause.
Rockstar
. His thoughts wandered back to Summer. Why was it that whenever he was able to get a few moments peace from thoughts of her something always popped up to remind him of her?

Anthony turned toward the back then stopped mid-step, nearly stumbling over his own feet. There sat Summer, deeply engrossed in a book, her attention focused solely on the page.

He was drawn forward, his steps slow and purposeful as he crossed the distance to her. He stood for a moment. Silent and still before she finally tore her gaze from the page to look at him.

Recognition flickered in her eyes and the book dropped to the floor with a thud.

She bent down to pick it up.

Anthony noticed the tremble in her hand as she slipped it onto the table then let her gaze draw up to meet his once more.

"Hello.” Her voice trembled like her fingers.

"Hello.” He didn't wait for an invitation as he pulled out a seat and sat down across from her. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out his pocket. He tipped the pack toward her in offering.

Summer shook her head. “I quit.” Her voice held more conviction than the first time she'd said it over a month ago.

Without taking one for himself he tossed the pack on the table between them. “What are you doing here?"

Summer looked around the café before returning her gaze to rest on his face.

"Having coffee.” Her eyebrow cocked in question. “What are you doing here?"

"Same,” he said. “You visiting someone?"

Summer shook her head. “No."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I live here."

"Here, in Seattle? Since when?"

"Since about two weeks ago."

"Why?"

"I like the rain."

"No one likes the rain that much."

"I do."

"Seriously?"

She let out a half sigh. “I was offered a job here, I took it."

"Seducing men for a story?” There was a bitter edge to his voice, more prominent than he had expected.

"No, I'm an editor for a local magazine."

"Aren't writers supposed to write, not edit?"

"I don't write anymore."

"Why?"

"Just don't.” She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and sipped. “What do you want from me?"

"I don't know.” It was the truth. He didn't know what he wanted. All he knew was that he couldn't seem to make himself get up and walk away.

"Was it meaningless?” The words slipped out from his lips before he'd even realized he'd said it.

"What?” She set her coffee cup aside as though she'd lost the taste for it.

"You said an article was like sex, meaningless and empty. So I'm asking, was what you wrote meaningless?"

Summer rose. She shook her head as she dug a ten dollar bill out of her purse and dropped it on the table. She scooped up her book.

"It wasn't an article,” she said before turning to walk away.

Summer stormed out of the café, angrier at herself than him. She turned down the street, past little shops and down the back alley, putting purposeful distance between them. Why had she gone there in the first place? There were a hundred other cafes. Three of them were within a five minute walk from her new apartment. Just because this one was adjacent to her office building ... She seriously needed a find new place to get her morning coffee.

God, she hadn't wanted to see him. Hadn't wanted to be reminded of how her heart ached for him, how her body craved him ... how fucking guilty she felt whenever she looked at him.

No matter how she much she might like to blame Spencer, and yes he did deserve a huge part of the blame, the fault was hers. She shouldn't have written the damn thing in the first place. Sure as hell should have been more careful when she had hit send. She really had no one else to blame but herself.

"Summer.” Anthony's voice boomed from across the street, making her pause mid-step and turn about.

He crossed the distance to her.

She couldn't speak, couldn't walk away, could only stand and stare.

He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as he dragged a hand through his hair, perhaps buying himself time to formulate his words. At last he spoke, breaking the silence between them. “Tell me you didn't mean it."

Her lips parted as she drew in a shaky breath. She searched his face for understanding. “Didn't mean what?"

"What you wrote in the article."

Her shoulders dropped as she let out a heavy breath. What the hell did he want from her? She'd already tried to apologize, already tried to explain. What more could she say? What more could she do? What was done was done.

She wasn't even sure why he was so upset. It wasn't like she meant anything to him. They had a piece of paper between them to attest to that. And it sure as hell wasn't like he'd suffered any real damage from it. Rumor had it that his sales the week the
Stripped
article dropped had nearly tripled. Not a bad return for one night of passion. While she had watched her career die, had taken a lower-level editorial position at a small magazine and had given up on the one thing she truly loved, her writing.

She was working herself up into a stint of hostility, ready to lash out at him but he rendered her speechless as he clasped his hands over her arms.

The clouds grew dark above them. Rain filtered down from the sky to splash over them, bathing them in a cool, autumn shower.

"Tell me you didn't mean it,” he whispered.

"No.” Her voice was as desperate and ragged as his.

"You have to tell me you didn't mean it because I can't deal with knowing that the words you wrote were ripped from your heart.” He let his hands fall away and they slid down her arms lovingly. “That you meant every word for me alone. That you were falling...” His words trailed off silently.

"How did we get here?” Summer's head hung limply as she stared down at the rippled reflection of the moonlight in the puddles at her feet. Fat droplets of warm rain fell around her, hiding the tear tracks that stained her cheeks.
Breathe
, she reminded herself. She inhaled deeply, drawing her breath between lips that ached for one last kiss.

"I have to go.” She turned her back to him.

"Tell me.” He touched her lightly as his fingertips trailed up the length of her arm. Goose bumps pricked her skin beneath his touch. She closed her eyes as he drew up behind her and pressed his hand against the flat of her stomach, spreading warmth through her body.

"I have to go."

"Tell me.” His breath was hot against her skin as his lips feathered the nape of her neck.

Please stop.
The fire burning in the pit of her stomach spread slowly through her veins, consuming her body with an aching desire that refused to subside whenever he was near.

His kisses burned into her skin a brand she would forever bear.
Please stop.
Her tears, like the rains above, fell in sheets. Her heart ached painfully. Tightening like a vice with each unspoken moment that passed.

Please.
The plea played in her thoughts like a prayer. “I can't tell you what you want to hear,” she whispered.

She broke free of his grip, put distance between them with each step she took away. The rain pelted angrily against her as though punishing her for the betrayal. She reached her car. Watched her keys tremble in her hand.
Get in. Just open the door and get in.

"Summer.” His echoed calls lingered in the alley behind her then faded into silence. She cast a glance over her shoulder. The rain beat down on him. Drenched his clothes and matted his dark hair to his face.

Her hand stole out and she took hold of the door handle. Yet she paused. Was she really going to walk away? When all she could think of for the past month was having one more moment with him? One more chance to tell him how she felt?

She whipped back around and crossed the distance toward him even as the rain poured down on her. She paused before him and lifted her chin to meet his dark gaze.

"You want me to lie to you? To tell you that I didn't mean every damn word that I poured into that story? That I could even for one moment pretend that I wasn't falling for you?” She shook her head, fighting back the onslaught of tears that wanted to fall. But she wouldn't let them. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction. “I won't. I won't lie to you just to appease you. Just to make you feel better about yourself. I think I've stroked your ego enough for one lifetime."

He took hold of her then. Pulled her forcefully into his arms. Dragged her wet body against his. His breath was heavy with want as it fanned over her. His eyes tinged with a deep hunger as they searched her face.

"Damn it, woman, how is it you can be so fucking cold?"

"Me? What about you? How could you have reduced what we had to just another one of your flings?"

"I didn't.” She tried to turn away but he held her. “I didn't. My manager filled it out beforehand. He always does, no matter the girl, no matter the circumstances. But I wasn't going to give it to you, Summer. I wasn't."

"There will always be something. Some contract, some story, something to get in the way. Something to tear us apart. I could tell you that I love you, that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But what kind of a life would that be? I'm just an ordinary girl and you're...” She couldn't even fucking bring herself to say it anymore. Even the idea of the word brought a sickness to her stomach.

"I'm just a boy,” he said finishing her thoughts with a sentiment of his own.

She shook her head. “No you're not."

He pulled her closer, their lips were but a breath apart. “I am. Underneath it all, just a boy in love with a girl."

Tears trickled down her cheeks making tracks unseen beneath the rains that slipped down her face. She didn't want to cry. Didn't want to be that weak, but God she ached.

As he pressed his lips to hers she melted against him. For one breathless moment she forgot about the world around them.

A brilliant flash exploded around them, intruding on their moment and tearing Summer's gaze away.

She tipped her head to the sky as she searched for lightning, but the flash pierced the gray evening light from her peripheral vision.

A man in a dark overcoat let his camera drop away then turned and fled the alley. He'd captured their stolen moment on his film. No doubt she'd see it in the pages of a magazine by morning. She pulled back.

"Don't you see? There will always be somebody in the way."

"Yes,” he grumbled. “There will always be somebody in the way. I can't help who I am. If I could take it all back, wish it all away, I would. For you. But then, if I wasn't who I was we wouldn't be here, Summer. We would have never met. The world would have never known about our affair and we wouldn't be standing here in this alley arguing about a fucking story."

Her mouth felt dry and raw despite the rain drops that moistened her lips. What could she say?

"Let them print what they want. Let them make up lies and post their pictures. All that matters is our story, Summer, the one written just for you and I.” He pulled her to him again. She didn't fight him as she fell into his arms and let him offer his strength. He brushed a kiss across her forehead. His lips pressed softly against her wet skin. “You wanted a story, Summer, this is it."

Summer tipped her chin up to meet his gaze and found herself swimming in his eyes. Dare she dream for even one moment that she could find happiness here? She drew out a long breath laced with a heavy sigh. “I meant it,” she said at last. “Every last word I wrote."

"I know.” He pressed his lips to hers.

Her lips parted in invitation. Her tongue tangled with his as he drew his arms about her. His hands roamed her back, trailed over her wet clothes while the rains pattered softly on them.

Summer pulled back slowly. A smile curved sinfully on her lips. “Do you always get what you want?"