Sultry Groove (Reckless Beat #4) (5 page)

Sean squeezed his
eyes shut, fighting off the bright daylight and wishing he’d had the sense to close the curtains before he stumbled into bed. His skull pounded, threatening to explode. His brain felt like it was trying to wring itself of the toxic liquid he’d consumed in abundance the night before.

He groaned into the silence. Why had he fallen into the old habit of drinking beyond his body’s capabilities? Ahh, that’s right. Sidney. Mason. Bright smiles. Happiness. Wedding bells. Christ. No wonder he felt like someone had gone at his head with a blow torch.

He rolled over, smothering his face into the pillow and wondered where he should go from here. Back to New York, he supposed. At least for a little while. Until he started working on the music video.

Music video
. Oh, shit.

He pushed up on his hands, and his head protested with the sudden movement. “Motherfucker.” He scowled against the pain, trying to bring clarity to the parts of last night he couldn’t piece together. There’d been a woman. A cute little pixie with big beautiful eyes and a lithe body.
Red.

He smiled at the vague recollection. Surely the image in his mind had to be a drunk hallucination. The woman he’d met couldn’t be as gorgeous as his beer goggles led him to believe. The flawless, strawberry-blonde hair, the petite figure, the smile. The need for her still flowed through his veins, even though he couldn’t clearly recall her image. She had to be an illusion.

He rolled onto his back and winced at the light smothering his vision. The brightness was sucking the life from him. What little he had left. Thankfully, he lived in the penthouse. Nobody would be able to see his morning wood standing tall and proud, completely immune to his epic hangover. However, he wasn’t sure if his virtue made it home safely intact. He’d lost his clothes somewhere along the way and could only pray they wound up inside the safety of his apartment.

He’d driven to the engagement party vowing not to rely on alcohol to get him through the night. Then, as soon as Sidney hugged him—her warm body sinking into his—he’d known there was no way he could remain sober.

This morning, he had a renewed stance on never drinking champagne again. Or wine. And maybe beer had to be scrubbed off the list, too. Alcohol was the devil, and he was sick of feeling like hell.

Dragging himself to sit on the side of the mattress, he rested his elbows on his knees and sank his head into his hands. From his vague recollection of the night before, he hadn’t made a great first impression on Red.

Shit
. He may have even kissed her. He wasn’t entirely sure.

Instead of lingering on his stupidity, he dragged himself from the bed, pulled on a pair of boxer briefs from his bedside table, and slunk to his home gym on the downstairs level. He’d exercise the demonic liquid from his system, starting with a five mile run.

It took all his willpower to climb onto the treadmill. He had to scrounge around for more every time he sprinted off the conveyor belt to throw his guts up in the adjacent bathroom. By the time he finished, the liquor was out of his system and he’d rehydrated himself with enough water to flood a canyon.

He showered, ate, kept hydrating, and crashed on the sofa to catch up on television he’d missed. Despite the hangover, the day didn’t turn out to be as bad as some he’d recently faced. His mind wasn’t heavy with regret. His chest didn’t ache from loss. He kept seeing Red, her lips lush and glistening, her cheeks pink with the cutest blush.

He wanted to see more of her. To determine if the alcohol had been fucking with him last night, making her into something she wasn’t. God knew he’d been blindsided by the conniving effects of intoxication before.

Pushing his lazy ass off the sofa, he dragged himself to the kitchen and grabbed his cell off the charger to dial Leah’s number. No point waiting around. Their first dance rehearsal wasn’t for another week, and he couldn’t let those big Bambi eyes haunt his memory that long. He needed to know,
now
, if the vague recollection of her was real.

“How’s the head, big guy?”

Damn
. Not the greeting he was looking for. He must’ve put on one hell of a show last night. “Not too bad,” he muttered. “I actually need to ask you a favor.”

“After tucking your naked ass into bed, I think you should be the one owing
me
favors.”

Jesus.
He winced, and contemplated being a chicken-shit and hanging up. “Umm, yeah, sorry ’bout that.”

Leah laughed, not a sound she allowed him or any of the other Reckless Beat band members to hear all that often. “You’re forgiven. Now what can I help you with?”

“I remember meeting the choreographer last night.” Somewhat vaguely.

“Yeah…” Her voice lowered in warning. “And?”

“Can you give me her number?”

“No.” There was no pause for contemplation. She slammed down her answer in a matter of milliseconds.

“Because?” He cringed, anticipating a reply that would point out a myriad of stupid things he’d done at the engagement party.

“If she wanted you to have her number, she would’ve already given it to you,” she grated in the motherly tone she used to chastise the band members when they fucked up. “And I suspect the best thing for both of you is a little distance. At least until she’s had time to stop hatin’ on you for pouring your drink all over her.”

Fuck.
He remembered now. Closing his eyes, he rested against the kitchen counter and ran his fingers along the bump permanently marring the bridge of his nose. “I need to apologize.”

“Then do it next Sunday at your first rehearsal.”

“Leah…” He sighed. She wasn’t the type of woman to be swayed, but he needed this. He needed Red, at least to keep his thoughts away from Sidney. “Please. I can’t recall much of last night. I need to know…”
If she’s as gorgeous as I remember. If my mind would continue to steer clear of Sidney if I saw Red again
. How did he explain that without sounding like a pussy?

“What do you need, Sean?” Her voice was softer now. Comforting. Sparking to life a memory of her trying to sober him up by pouring a shitload of water down his throat. What had she said? There’d been something important. Something he’d identified with. He couldn’t remember; it was smothered under a blur of fuzzy flashbacks.

“I need…” He opened his eyes and glanced around the emptiness of his apartment. He didn’t do the alone thing very well. Mason had always been close by to fuck around with. Now, Sean tried to avoid spending time with his best friend because he was literally always fucking with Sidney. “I need a distraction.”

Leah remained quiet for a moment, letting him stew in his miserable life. He really was pathetic. For years, he’d been hidden in Mason’s shadow. He was a slave to the music their band created, yet he received no credit for it. While Ryan, Blake, Mitch, and Mason were recognized almost daily for their contributions to Reckless Beat, Sean could probably count on one hand the times he’d been stopped for an autograph while on his own.

His hatred of social media didn’t help. He couldn’t work the virtual crowd like his friends, and nobody seemed to give a fuck about what he ate for breakfast. There was no gift of gab in these bones. Especially not for strangers. In contrast, the hardcore fans went batshit crazy over every post or tweet Mitch made. The asshole could strum for ten seconds on Instagram and get thousands of likes, not to mention blowjob offers and marriage proposals in the comments.

When Sean did make tabloid headlines, it was for the wrong reasons—the sex scandal or the brutal shooting in Mason’s New York apartment. Very few reporters wanted to focus on him as a musician. He’d never been the big draw card, and he supposed over time he became complacent with standing in the shadows of his friends’ success.

Not anymore. After all his hard work, he deserved the same recognition.

He deserved happiness, too. All his friends were hooking up with beautiful women. Creating perfect futures while he was stuck on his own. Most of them hadn’t even been looking for love. And here he was, secretly wishing he’d had someone to share his ups and downs with, receiving nothing in return. He’d practically prayed for a relationship, just so he could have at least one person in his life to see him for who he really was. Instead, he kept attracting females who considered him a stepping stone to scoring with one of the more famous members of the band.

Fuck that.

It was his time now. And he wanted Red. At least the drunken version of her. If she had changed from a pixie to a dragon with his sobriety, then he’d chalk it up to karma and continue on with his miserable existence. But while he had hope, and a thankful distraction from the majority of his hurt, he didn’t want to lose it.

“It’s not my place to tell you her private cell number,” Leah started. “However, I’m sure if you checked the online phone directory, you’d find her studio.”

His heart rate kicked up a notch. “I don’t know the business name.”

Leah released an annoyed sigh, the one she continuously used on Mason and Mitch. “Maybe, if you stop referring to her as Red, and actually put an effort into remembering her given name, you’d find it easy enough.”

Fuck.

“But—”

“
Sean
,” she growled. “She’s an extremely beautiful and talented woman. If you can’t remember her name, you don’t deserve her number.”

The line went dead.

Typical Leah. She always had the final word. Clearing his cell screen to the main dashboard, he clicked on the online phone directory and then searched for local dance studios. Eleven results displayed on screen.
Fucking fantastic
. He scrolled through the list, mentally crossing off the businesses that didn’t spark familiarity. Then he found her, and his chest constricted at the name—Melodic Dance.

That was her. Melody. Such a suitable description for a mesmerizing woman. Well, his intoxicated version, anyway.

He saved the number, and committed the address to memory. He knew how to get there. The neighborhood was familiar. All he had to do now was figure out all the ways he’d embarrassed himself last night so his apology sounded legit.

Melody stood in
front of the class of youngsters and clapped her hands to mark the end of the session. “Great job, everyone. I’ll see you all next week.”

A chorus of disappointed grumbling filled the room, and parents stood from their seated positions along the wooden benches lining the front wall. Melody loved the five-to-eight-year-old hip-hop class. It was all about fun and freedom, smiles and slip-ups. The older kids messed around with the young. It was one of the few classes immune from rivalry. It was also the last class of the week, which was an added bonus.

“Come on, kiddos. Don’t get the grumps. I’ll meet you here next Sunday with a new song to mess around to. In the meantime, practice your step-touches and ball-changes. You’ll need them for next week.”

Melody wiped the sweat from her brow with the hem of her shirt and smiled in farewell to some of the parents. It was time to put her feet up and relax. Two days with no classes went by too quickly, and she needed to make the most of tonight when the Monday and Tuesday she usually had off would be spent working herself ragged on the Reckless Beat choreography.

“Did I do good today, Mel?” A sweet voice rose up from beside her before small hands tugged at her shirt.

Melody faced the child and lowered to one knee, grinning at the beautiful six-year-old in front of her. “Of course. As always, you were my best student. Do you know why?”

Juliet’s face brightened with a contagious smile. “Because I have the biggest heart.”

“That’s right, sweetheart.” Melody clutched Juliet’s upper arm and gave a squeeze. Of all her students, this beautiful little girl with brown curls and dark-chocolate eyes was the only one with special needs. Down syndrome. Not once had it affected the child’s ability to illuminate the studio.

Juliet felt the music. She danced without a care for anyone’s opinion. Unlike some of the others, she didn’t blush when she made a mistake. The beat was in her veins, her moves were an extension of her soul, and yes, by far, she danced with the most heart. That was the reason Melody adored the child so much. They had a kinship with dance not everyone understood, especially at Juliet’s age.

“I’ll see you next week. Make sure you practice your tutting.”

Juliet sprang forward, wrapping her tiny arms around Melody’s neck. “I will. I promise.”

“Good girl.” Melody stood, letting the thankful smile of Juliet’s father sink under her skin. There weren’t many moments when her current life held a candle to the professional career she’d lost, but this was one of them. Giving hope to a parent, bringing a smile to a lonely child’s face, it made the harsh reality of her demise the slightest bit easier to bear.

“See you next week, John.” She clapped Juliet’s dad on the shoulder and started scouring the edge of the room, picking up empty food packets her students had left behind.

Once the building was empty, she went through the usual routine of packing up—turning off the surround-sound system, flicking off the lights in the main studio room, and then jogged up the stairs to make sure nobody had snuck up there during the day. When she reached the top step, she stopped, inhaling the dank air as she scanned the wide expanse.

One day, this dark, dreary space would be another studio. The plans were already set in her mind. She would remove the dirty old shutters from outside, letting the sun shine in. The floorboards needed to be sanded and re-polished to sparkling perfection. Then a pretentious chandelier would be installed in the center of the newly painted room, just to appease her deflated ego and give her a daily dose of the glamour she’d lost.

It would take time. Even though the likelihood of her being old and riddled with arthritis before her dream became a reality was more than likely, it didn’t stop her from aiming high. She needed the goal to occupy herself. Silent moments made her compare where she’d been to where she currently was, and those thoughts weren’t pretty. Glitz and glamour, to the burbs and kids. The contrast woke her up in a cold-sweat sometimes. The best years of her life were over, well before she’d anticipated. The only thing dulling the taint of failure was the upcoming project with Reckless Beat.

Working on the choreography for their
Fighting Against Attraction
clip would be a thrill. Spending time with a guy like Sean while doing it was even better. She hadn’t anticipated being enamored by him. Her career on stage had been spent with some of the biggest names in the music industry, so she had first-hand knowledge of how self-absorbed famous musicians could be. Yet, this morning, she’d woken with a smile on her face and a picture of a handsome man in her mind.

Sean was fun, flirty, and sexy as hell in a scary, threatening kind of way. His appearance would fit well with the mafia, yet that smile and those eyes… She sighed aloud. The differing contrasts of his facial features intrigued her.

They were going to share a lot of laughs together, and hopefully having her name associated with the world famous band would gain exposure with more music bigwigs for her to obtain similar work in the future. All she had to do was sit back and try not to hyperventilate while another dancer performed her moves.

Easier said than done.

With a sad smile, she dragged herself downstairs and retrieved her handbag from the kitchen cupboard before flicking off the light. She did the same in the bathrooms, and finally the hall. There was no use sulking. She’d wasted enough of her life feeling sorry for herself. Her family, despite backing off somewhat, wouldn’t let her continue along that path, and their pestering was a big enough deterrent to remain strong.

She had to deal with the changes in her life. In this new existence, stepping foot on another competition dance floor wasn’t an option. Neither was touring with one of the many singers she’d had the pleasure of working with. She no longer had the desire to have people watch her. The thought of the world seeing her in a skimpy outfit, judging every inch of her skin, made her break out in a cold-sweat.

Never again.

Rummaging through her handbag, she retrieved the studio keys with one hand and switched off the air-conditioner with the other. Outside, the summer heat would be unrelenting, even with the sun mere hours from setting. Her already sweat-slicked skin would swelter on the short walk around the corner to her house, and the inability to dress for the climate was yet another flaw she had to deal with on a daily basis.

With a tug, she flung open the front door, squinting at the bright late-afternoon daylight, and locked the deadbolt behind her.

“You’re good with kids.”

She sucked in a breath at the deep voice directed her way and swung around in alarm.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sean?” Shock and an uncontrollable rush of excitement made her voice high. “What are you doing here?” She held a hand to her chest, trying to calm her heartbeat as she stole a brief moment to enjoy the man leaning against an electric-blue pickup parked on the side of the road. “Oh, crap, did I get the dates wrong? I was certain we weren’t starting rehearsals until next Sunday.”

She hadn’t even listened to the track yet. Hold up, Leah only gave her the song last night. She frowned, eyeing him skeptically.

“No.” He pushed from the side of the truck and swaggered toward her. “I came to apologize for the way I acted last night. Well, what I can remember, anyway.” He shot her a sheepish grin that made her toes curl in the most delicious way.

“No need to apologize.” She waved away his comment and lowered from the front step onto the sidewalk. “I was honored to be your
distraction
.”

He groaned, the deeply masculine sound sending a shiver down her spine. “Did I say that?”

She inclined her head, and chuckled when he winced. “Honestly, don’t give it another thought.”

“I feel like the biggest asshole. Leah reminded me of the pixie comments, and pointed out you weren’t too impressed. Then I spilled my drink all over your pants.” He broke eye contact, glancing at her studio. “I was kinda hoping I could get them dry-cleaned for you.”

Free from the scrutiny of his gaze, she grimaced. Her reaction to his drunken slip-up was the only part of the night she regretted. She’d flipped out, panicking at his touch, and caused more of a scene than necessary for the minor accident.

“I’ve been called worse, and don’t worry about my pants. They’re already on the clothes line.”

He remained silent for a moment, his focus turning back to her, scrutinizing. “Damn, Red, you make it hard for a guy to redeem himself.”

She laughed, almost nervously. That was a first. With any other gorgeous man, she would’ve sank into the seduction, flirting and making her interest known. Life was different now. She had scars, mental and physical, and apparently her mojo was no longer equipped to proceed with her usual gusto. “No redemption necessary. I promise.”

“At least let me buy you a coffee. Do you have anywhere you need to be right now?”

Tempting. Oh, so tempting. With the evening sun bearing down on her, making her clothing burn, the only place she needed to be was out of the heat. She contemplated her exhaustion for a moment, the sleepy part of her brain announcing this was going to be a hectic week. Rest was necessary, and her attention-starved ego needed to remember that.

“I shouldn’t.”

Really, she should. It had been an eternity since she enjoyed the company of a man, and apart from his drunken behavior at the engagement party, Sean seemed nice. Last night, his attention empowered her. An addictive sensation she wouldn’t mind experiencing again. She just wasn’t sure if she could handle the repercussions.

“I can’t even buy you a cup of joe?” He frowned. “Seriously? I’m begging here, Red.”

Her grin increased at the nickname, which was funny because in school she would’ve shoulder-checked anyone who made note of her strawberry-blonde hair. The way Sean referred to her long locks made her feel giddy.

“OK, OK.” She held up her hands in surrender. “You can buy me a coffee. I just have to go home and freshen up first.”

“No problem.” His eyes sparkled with mischief she wasn’t sure she should be excited or nervous about. “Have you got a car, or can I drive you?”

She pointed to the left, indicating the start of her street. “My house is around the corner. I’ll get there before you have a chance to start the ignition on your truck. Drive to number five. I’ll leave the front door open. All I need is enough time for a quick shower and a change of clothes.”

His eye sparkle turned into a predatory gleam, making her rethink the offer to leave herself at the mercy of his integrity. “On second thought, maybe you should wait in your truck.”

He released a bark of laughter. “That might be a good idea.”

Eepp
. Her heart did a two-step, threatening to explode under the excitement of his flirting. Had it really been that long since a man paid her attention?
Christ.
She needed to get a grip. She also needed to remember she had too much baggage to take this flirting to another level.

“It was a joke,” she muttered, feeling embarrassed all over again. “I’ll meet you at home.”

She strode past him, determined to get under the spray of a cold shower before she made a fool of herself. When she reached the street corner, she chanced a glance over her shoulder, immediately regretting the decision.

Sean was still on the sidewalk, watching her, melting her with his interest. The grin hadn’t left his features. His predatory gleam still made her belly flutter. It was torture to drag her gaze away from him. The need to break into a jog as she crossed the road was pure humiliation.

It wasn’t until she was in the sanctuary of her house, the wall of pictures taunting her in the living room, that reality sank in. She strode to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. This was last night all over again. She was playing a role, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Someone she couldn’t be anymore. It wasn’t right. So why did it feel so good?

Sean’s interest washed away the aching, grey depression she’d been harboring. For fleeting moments, she was transported back in time, to a place where men adored her and women wanted to be her.

It was thrilling. A rush.

She yanked her shirt over her head and threw it to the floor, along with her bra. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to continue the charade. She’d shower, put on a little lipstick, perfume, and a revealing top and pretend she was the hypnotizing, successful dancer from her past. She was kidding herself that it wouldn’t compound her problems for a later date, but the pain of the last year had been never-ending. Sean gave her a glimpse of excitement. She was strong enough to know she needed what he had to give.