The Problem With Heartache (15 page)

I raised my hand to the back of my neck and rubbed at the muscles there that had suddenly become tight with tension. “Oh, I’m paying attention, all right.” I widened my eyes. There was absolutely no doubt about that right now.

“Get back-stage, Lee. Seriously. This is your last warning.”

I swallowed again, and the clamminess of perspiration beaded against my brow. Was it hot in here? It sure felt
hot
.

She stepped closer to me, till her chest was almost touching my chest. Shit, she smelt like soap and hairspray and … apples. How the hell did she smell like apples when Sam told me she’d been helping the sound guys lug some of our gear into the venue, despite me telling her not to? By all accounts, she should smell like ass.

But no. Apples.

“I …” My gaze flicked to her lips, and I wondered if it would really be that bad if I kissed her. After all, that was hardly promising her marriage, and no one had to know. Just one taste. And her lips—they were so red, and plump, and—oh God, she just licked them with that sweet-as-hell little tongue, and—

The palm of her hand made contact with my face before I even registered her arm moving. Five elegant fingers stung my cheek and I jerked backward, cupping my jaw in pain. “What the hell?”

Kate walked over to where her shirt lay on the floor and picked it up, casually shrugging it on. She had the biggest shit-eating grin on her face, and I couldn’t help but give a little smile myself. I’d not seen her look so animated since she first boarded the bus.

“I told you it was your final warning,” she said, doing up her buttons, then turned to the door, wrenched it open and made a sweeping gesture with her arm, allowing me passage through. “Now, Mr Collins, if you please.”

I turned my head so I could see my cheek more clearly in the mirror. The side she’d hit was definitely pinker than the other. I shook my head. I guess I should be thankful she wasn’t wearing rings.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, walking past her and out into the corridor. I passed Xander’s door, and a thought flashed through my mind. What if she stripped for all the guys to get them on stage? I couldn’t have her just—

“Lee?” The voice halted me in my tracks. I spun to face her.

She threw my black shirt at me, the one I’d had hanging over the chair by the mirror. “Put some clothes on.”

I shrugged the shirt over my head, but as I walked out on stage to the thousands of screaming fans, my mind wasn’t on the notes I was about to play, the lyrics I was about to sing.

My mind was fixed firmly on Kate. Who stood up to me like that?

There was something about that girl …

We played a one-hour set, and it was another successful gig. At the end, the crowd was on its feet, cheering. It seemed even the dancing girls that I was once so unsure of were actually worth their weight in gold, as we left to the shouts of “one more song” and the chicks ran back out to shake what their mamma gave them one last time. It was a 50/50 split crowd of guys to women, and having the girls with us seemed to get the blokes on side, especially during some of the slower numbers. They’d dance and sway their hips seductively in a manner that would have made my parents blush. Luckily, my folks they didn’t come to shows anymore.

Huh. That was the first time I’d ever thought of that as a good thing.

The girls spun and gyrated in a variety of barely-there outfits, black and red lace numbers that left very little to the imagination.

I wonder what Kate would look like in an outfit like that …

“Not bad for a bunch of ex-strippers,” Xander said, slapping me on the back as he saw my eyes still focused on stage. He didn’t know that I wasn’t seeing a second of what was going on there. All I was seeing was Kate’s body, which I had committed to memory, and wondering what sizes we had spare in those lingerie sets.

“Leave them be,” I managed to spit out. Still, he was telling the truth. When Tony told us we needed to get some dancers to help “flesh out our act” a bit—with real flesh, mind—I’d suggested we hire strippers, to try and give them a new life. Well, for those who wanted out of the game, anyway. And much to my surprise, the concept was sexy enough without being too risqué for Tony to agree.

There was a fine line between being a sexy rock star and downright scandalous. A line that we seemed to tread far too often.

“Ah, good ol’ Lee.” Michael came up and ruffled my hair. “He’s trying to save the world, one loose woman at a time.”

“Knock it off.” I pushed him away, but there was a smile on my face. It was true; I’d thought we could help get a few reluctant strippers out of that life, not because I wanted a private show in my room post-gig. Although that hadn’t stopped them offering the first few times, mind.

We walked back down the corridor together to our separate rooms. It wasn’t always like this; sometimes we had to share, but having our own space before we went on stage was nice. It gave me time to focus, and to warm up, something the other guys loved to give me shit about. It wasn’t like I was singing opera, after all, but I still thought it important to keep my voice in good shape, and I was still always worried I’d stop hearing the music. Six years of lessons as a teenager … I shuddered, thinking what could happen if it all went away. Thank God I had my tone deafness under control.

As I reached my door, I couldn’t help but think back to Kate before the show, how she came and …
motivated
me to go on stage. “Hey, Xan?”

Xander stopped with his hand on his door. I glanced up the corridor. A few security guards were loitering, and I could hear the thuds and grunts of our road crew as they loaded our gear off-stage. “Yeah?”

“When Kate came to get you to go on stage … did she …” The words stuck in my throat. I didn’t want to embarrass her, if that was special treatment just for me.

Or maybe I’m afraid to tell him in case she doesn’t do it again
.

“What, bro?” Xander asked, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Did she … do anything different?” My brows drew closer together as the words escaped my lips.

“No, man.” Xander shook his head. “Oh, wait; maybe, yeah.”

“Yeah?” My pulse thudded in my wrist. I swear to God, if she was stripping for my boys, I was going to kick her ass from here to next Tuesday. I’d call her folks, I’d turn her over my knee and spank her so hard I—

Images of an entirely different sort infiltrated my mind, and I huffed out a breath. What was wrong with me?

“She was a little more tetchy than usual.” Xander nodded. “Wouldn’t stick around for a drink or anything.”

Air deflated from my lungs and my shoulders lowered.
Thank fuck.

“You okay, man?” Xander walked over to me, his big hand wrapping around my shoulder. “You look like you’re losing it.”

“It’s nothing.” Nothing that I could pinpoint, anyway. Why was I so weird about this chick? Was it because I knew I couldn’t have her?

Because she challenges you?

I ignored the voice in my brain. Having someone who you connected with, who made you think, with whom you had stuff in common, and who didn’t just throw themselves at your feet didn’t mean shit.

Carly had shown me that.

“You need to get laid, man.” Xander shook his head and walked into his room, and as I turned to face my own door, I couldn’t help but agree.

But I knew that I wouldn’t.

Not while she was watching.

Dear Lee,

I do hope my little impromptu strip show was outrageous enough to help keep you clothed around me more often, but not so outrageous that it means I’m going to lose my job. After all, this is quite a fun and non-taxing position. And as much as I hate to admit it, one of the perks of being employed by a guy who rarely wears his shirts is that at least I don’t have to worry about you going out on stage with mustard, or some tramp’s red lipstick all over your clothes—not that you’d be fraternising with tramps, of course.

I also thought you should know that I didn’t take my top off for any of the other band members tonight. So if you could please keep that little strip private, it’d be great. I don’t get half-naked for just anybody.

Kate

After the show the boys showered and changed, and I monitored the road crew bumping all the gear out, my clipboard pressed tightly to my chest. Or at least, that’s what I appeared to be doing. What I was really doing was alternating between freaking out that Lee Collins was going to fire me for inappropriate shirt-removing behaviour, or that worse—he was going to ask me to do it again.