Rockstar (3 page)

"I'm in the tub."

"So you've said. One would assume that means you're naked."

"One would assume.” She breathed the words heavily into the phone, not intending such deliberate seduction to slip from her voice. It came naturally, too comfortably, when she spoke to him. “Where are you?"

"In my hotel room."

"Naked?” she asked playfully, unable to resist.

"Could be, would you like to see for yourself?"

"I'm in the tub."

"Yes, you told me.” There was something wistful in his voice. A longing to his words. “How about a drink after your bath?"

The invitation surprised her as did her urge to take him up on it. But she knew what he wanted and it wasn't the bedtime story she sought. She'd be damned if she'd end up another notch on his bedpost. She didn't need a man, even one as dangerously alluring as Anthony Phoenix. What she needed was a story. “I have one, thank you."

"I could send a car."

She let out a soft huff of laughter. She doubted very much that Anthony Phoenix was accustomed to rejection. And had she not been after the story of a lifetime she might have actually taken him up on his offer. Hell, she was only human and she had needs just like every other woman. But as it was, she sure as hell wasn't going to blow this first and only chance Spencer was willing to afford her. “You said you'd leave a ticket at the counter tomorrow night?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll see you tomorrow then.” Summer flipped the phone off without awaiting his reply.

She set her Blackberry down on the ledge of the tub and slipped completely beneath the water. It was her only hope of drowning the deep ache that flamed up from between her thighs.

Anthony stared down at the silent phone in his hand. With a half-cocked smile tugging at his lips he placed the receiver back on the cradle. Clever little minx, he thought as he rose and crossed to the wet bar.

As he poured himself a drink his thoughts were consumed by the vision he held in his head. Her long, pale body stretched out beneath the warm waters of her bath. Her skin wet, hot, the jets pulsing against her, making her back arch in pleasure.

His mouth went dry.

He drowned the shot of whiskey in one heavy gulp and then poured another. He'd need more than a single shot of Jack to douse the fire she'd lit within him.

He dipped his fingers into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a rumpled pack of cigarettes. He slipped one out and put it between his lips. Even as he drew in deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs, infect his mind, his thoughts wandered back to her. He imagined her head tilted back, her eyes closed. Her lips parting slightly as her hand disappeared beneath the water, slipping sinfully between her thighs.

He shook his head and cursed beneath his breath as his groin tugged urgently beneath his jeans.

Agitated, Anthony crushed his cigarette out. He crossed the room and picked up his guitar. He cradled it affectionately against his chest while his fingers picked at the strings. The room filled with a soft, twanging sound.

Her soft voice echoed in his memory. He traced the line of her jaw in his mind, settling on those plump, luscious lips, begging to be kissed.

His thumb strummed heavily at the strings and his fingers slid over the frets. The whine of the guitar echoed the thumping beat of his heart.

"Tony."

Trigger's voice broke into his thoughts, startling him. Anthony's fingers faltered over the strings and the guitar cried out. Anthony swore beneath his breath. Setting the guitar aside he rose and crossed the room to pour another drink.

"Sorry, boss."

Anthony waved a dismissing hand. “It's all right, what's up?"

"The boys are waiting for you."

Anthony's mind swam as he struggled to search past his fantasies of Summer. It dawned on him, drinks with the boys. “Yeah.” He downed the last of his whiskey. “I'm coming."

The last thing he needed to do was sit around his hotel room and nurse his whiskey, not to mention his dark desires.

Trigger followed him down the hallway as Anthony moved three doors down and rapped on the door. He didn't wait for an answer as he turned the knob and stepped inside.

Trigger dutifully closed the door behind him.

Anthony lit another cigarette as his gaze wandered the room. A dozen girls had joined them and he huffed out a laugh that bordered on irritation. Drinks with the boys was never drinks with the boys anymore. He missed those days. Back before the record deals had made them wealthy and the media had made them stars. Nearly ten years their senior at the age of thirty-five, Anthony had grown tired of the up-all-night parties, the drugs and even the women. Maybe he was just getting too old for this shit.

He gave a nod to his bandmates as he dropped down onto the sofa. What was he doing here?

As he expelled a breath laced with smoke two brunettes and a redhead joined him. He flashed them a half-hearted smile.

"Can I make you a drink?” The redhead bit down on her lower lip.

"Jack, neat."

As she rose to do his bidding, one of the brunettes, the lankier of the two, settled down on the floor before him while the other took a seat beside him. She dared to reach out to touch him, resting a hand on his thigh. She smiled sinfully as his muscles tensed in response. “Got one for me?” She nodded to the cigarette in his hand.

She reached out to take his from him but Anthony pulled away. Instead he slipped the pack from his pocket and offered that to her instead. Disappointment flickered in her eyes as she fished a cigarette from the pack.

More annoyed with her than he cared to admit, Anthony took out his lighter and touched the flame to the tip of the cigarette caught between her lips. She wrapped her hand over his, the touch intentional.

"Thank you."

The redhead returned with his drink. His fingertips made brief but solid contact with her hand as he took the drink she offered. He waited for that tinge of desire, that heat he had felt when Summer had touched him. But there was nothing. Just the stark emptiness of a stranger's hand.

"Tony?” Anthony cast a glance over his shoulder at his drummer, grateful for the distraction. Jeremy was stretched out on the bed, a girl on either side of him.

"What?"

Jeremy held up a small, silver pipe, letting it rest precariously between his forefinger and thumb. “You want a hit?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"Not in the mood to play, honey?” The soft female voice drew him back to the girls crowding around him.

The brunette lounging on the floor sat up. Her chin rested on the bend of his knee as she poised on all fours before him. She gazed up at him from beneath lowered brow. Seductively licking her lips as desire, or God knew what drug, made her body shift restlessly. “You seem ... distracted."

Distracted. What a perfect word. He was completely distracted. His thoughts lingered on a certain blonde, naked in the tub, waiting for his call. If that wasn't distraction, he didn't know what was. He could barely think beyond the longing that plagued him. What was it about her that stirred him?

The other brunette toyed with his earlobe while the redhead settled down beside her. “Maybe he needs us to take his mind off his troubles."

The redhead kissed her friend. Their tongues mingling, licking, tasting, sucking. She cupped her hand over the brunette's breast. Teasing her nipple beneath the clingy fabric of her shirt.

The brunette groaned in response. Arching her back, inviting a touch as her kisses deepened and she bit down on the redhead's lower lip.

Desire should have rippled down his body. Hardened his cock with an urgent, primal need, but his interest wasn't there. His thoughts were too consumed by Summer and the fucking bathtub. What was it about her that drew him? She was stunning, with her long, silky hair and those rousing jewel-tinted eyes. But that was hardly different from the dozens of other women who'd caught his fancy at one time or another. No different than the three women who pressed their bodies against his now.

No, it had to be something more because his attraction to her was more than primal. Perhaps it was her brazen tongue or brutal honesty that captivated him. The easy confidence that was almost enough to make him forget what she after.

The brunette on the floor crawled up his leg. Her fingers fumbled over the waistband of his jeans.

Anthony swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. His head settled back against the couch as he tried to give himself to the girl and let her distract him from the dangerous thoughts that plagued him. He certainly didn't need to get involved with a reporter. That was a dangerous game he'd played too many times before.

The girl tugged on his zipper, exposing the navy boxers he wore beneath. She drew his cock from the cotton fabric and stroked the head with soft, lazy fingers. Despite him, he grew rigid beneath her touch. The need for release screamed within his body.

"That's more like it, honey.” She brought her lips to his cock. Teased the head with a flick of her tongue against the velvet ridge. With a mind of its own, it nudged at her mouth, daring her to take him between her brightly painted lips.

In his thoughts he saw a bathtub.

A mouth slipped over him, taking his cock between parted lips, letting it nudge against the back of her throat.

In his mind he saw Summer's leg peek out beneath the water.

The mouth drew up his shaft making him moan.

He imagined Summer settling her silken leg on the ledge of tub as he traced the long line of her calf with his tongue.

Wet and warm, the mouth slipped down once more making need build like a volcano within him.

Droplets snaked down her naked thigh in his fantasy, his tongue following the trail.

As her teeth scrapped gently against the soft tip of his cock Anthony pushed the girl away. That wasn't what he wanted. Who he wanted.

The girl let out an aggravated grunt as she drew her drug-induced gaze over him. “What's the matter, baby? Don't you want to play?"

The room seemed to spin about him. Cool air wafting up the floor vents felt like icy waters against his exposed prick. He couldn't do this. Didn't want to do this. He wasn't sure what he was looking for. What he needed. But it certainly wasn't a quick release from some drugged-up groupie.

He rose and yanked up jeans. As he headed for the door he heard Jeremy's voice echo through the room. “Where you going?"

"Bed.” Anthony shot the word at his drummer. He didn't expect the kids to understand. He didn't even understand it himself. He'd spent years spitting his seed into the hot mouths of a hundred willing groupies. He wasn't sure why it had suddenly lost all appeal. He wasn't sure why he needed to get the fuck out of there. All he knew for certain was that this wasn't where he longed to be.

"Awww,” Jeremy drew out the word drunkenly. “It's early yet."

"Yeah, well, I'm an old fucker."

Jeremy burst into laughter. “All right, Grandpa, go to bed."

The room exploded with drunken laughter behind him as Anthony made his escape. Damn kids, he thought bitterly.

Outside in the hall, Trigger cast a sidelong glance at him. “Everything alright, boss?"

"Fine,” Anthony dragged his fingers through his hair. “Bloody fantastic."

He retreated to his hotel room. Flopped down heavily on the bed. What the fuck was wrong with him?

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Summer dragged her purse strap up over her shoulder as she stepped out of the cab in the heart of downtown Seattle. Anthony's name was spelled out in bold red lettering on the neon sign board above the venue. A show of colored spotlights danced about the sky around the towering brick building.

A line of people littered the sidewalk three blocks away. There was an almost electric pulse coursing through the crowd as they waited to shuffle beneath the neon façade and filter into the theater. Girlish giggles and excited chatter filled Seattle with an erratic thumping hum. It was as if the whole damn city had crammed itself into this single corner of downtown.

Her heels clicked against the concrete as she wound her way past the people.

She'd donned a black sleeveless blouse that wrapped about her breasts, making them peek out over the neckline. A cool autumn breeze rustled her long golden hair. It sent a shiver running down the length of her bare arms, making her wish she'd grabbed a sweater. The flirty thigh-high skirt didn't help any against the chill either.

Summer wove her way through the crowd toward the box office windows flanking the front of the building. A dark-haired woman sat behind the middle window. Her gaze drew up from the computer screen as Summer approached. “Can I help you?"

"My name is Summer Staite. I was told there would be a ticket left for me."

The woman sorted through a stack of papers on the counter behind the window pane that created a barrier between them. She selected a small white envelope then slipped it into the shallow bowl-like tray beneath the window.

Summer took it and turned the thin, narrow envelope over in her hand. Her name was scrawled across the front in bold, black ink. Summer ran her thumb over the hand-printed letters of her name and wondered if it had been penned by Anthony.

She flipped the envelope over and pried it open. Instead of a seat ticket she found a laminated card that dangled from a length of heavy nylon cord. His album cover had been printed in full color on thick card stock. “ALL ACCESS” was printed across the front in white bold-face lettering.

A second piece of paper was stuck to the inside flap. She fished it out. No bigger than a business card, a short message was written on it.

Details: Floor seats, stage left. Find Jenny.

A smile curled Summer's lips. For a man who proclaimed to detest games he certainly seemed to enjoy playing with her. She tucked the note back into the envelope and slipped it into her purse. Once scanned into the computer the note would make a fabulous graphical element to accompany her article.

She pressed the laminated card into the palm of her hand. Without an actual ticket for the show she was counting on the Plain Jane pass to get her inside.