Wanderlust (2 page)

He gripped the mic stand and bent over, belting out a note, causing his shaggy, dark hair to fall over his eyes. Sexuality, raw and unadulterated, rolled off him in waves. And now she
got
it. Got what the girl next to her was having palpitations over. Aubrey wanted to drown in that voice—fall in and never come out. She closed her eyes and let the sound resonate through her, her body swaying with the motion of the crowd around her.

A gruff voice interrupted her blissful moment. “Hey, watch it, lady.”

Her lids snapped open. The man next to her glared.

“Huh?”

“Watch your goddamned feet,” he barked. “My toes aren’t made of steel.”

She dropped her gaze to her heeled boots and assumed she must’ve stepped on the guy’s feet. “Sorry,” she yelled over the music, but the man had already turned to face the stage again. She gave herself a mental shake.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m supposed to be working, not drooling over the subject of my assignment.

She had to get a grip or her story would end up reading like a teen idol magazine.
Lead singer of Wanderlust, Lex Logan, is totally hot! He’s six foot two inches tall. His favorite color is black. Likes long walks in dark alleys. Prefers blondes who wear dental floss.
Okay, so the last part probably wouldn’t make it into
Tiger Beat
, but still. She needed to pay attention to the music, the show, and how tight the performance was or wasn’t. That was what she was getting paid to do. Not to admire how firm Lex’s abs looked through that snug black T-shirt or how his inked arms flexed when he gripped the microphone.

The song ended and the band launched into the next track. Aubrey tried to hone in on the other band members, watching Lex only when she couldn’t avoid it. She shut her eyes often so that she could listen to the notes, the quality of the vocals, the crisp sound of the instruments. By the fourth song, she had returned to some sort of professional mode, taking mental notes at a rapid clip.

When the song finished, Lex sauntered to the edge of the stage to address the audience. “How’s everyone doing tonight?”

Screams answered him. He gave an easy laugh, clearly comfortable being the center of attention.

“I’m glad y’all are having a good time. We are, too. New Orleans definitely knows how to throw a party.” He put his hand against his brow to shield his eyes from the spotlights and squinted at the sea of people below him. “Turn up those house lights. I want to see these beautiful faces.”

Female voices reverberated off the walls as the lights above the crowd switched on. A redhead a few steps away from Aubrey lifted up her shirt as soon as Lex’s eyes traveled in her direction. Nice. What was this? Mardi Gras? Lex smiled and gave a little nod of acknowledgment to Boob Job Girl, but otherwise didn’t comment.

“You know, I’m feeling mighty thirsty, and I heard a rumor that New Orleans is home of the body shot,” Lex said, continuing to survey the audience with a sly smile. “So I’m thinking, that maybe I should try one tonight. What do you think?”

The shouting of the crowd increased.

“Now all I need is . . . a willing victim,” Lex continued. Bustier Girl began her bouncing routine again and waved her hands frantically trying to catch his eye. Lex paced across the stage, taking his time, holding his finger up and preparing to point to the chosen one.

Aubrey put her money on Miss Augmentation, but he passed that section up without a glance. As he neared Aubrey’s end of the stage, his eyes landed on her exuberant neighbor. The girl’s scream turned shrill. “Pick me! Me! Me!”

Lex lowered his hand ready to point and then shifted his gaze, locking eyes with Aubrey. Her breath caught. Oh, shit. Seconds seemed to tick by, but she couldn’t pull away from the stare. She managed to wag her head slowly back and forth. No. No. No.

He smiled, lowered his finger, and pointed directly at her. “You. The sexy brunette in the black T-shirt.”

Her stomach took a nosedive.

“Come on, I won’t bite,” Lex said, waving her forward. “Unless you ask nicely, that is.”

The girl next to Aubrey shot her a glare that could have curdled milk. The sea of fans parted as if Aubrey had suddenly morphed into royalty, and she forced her leaden feet to cross the few yards to the barricade. Her heart took up residence in her throat, threatening to jump out. This was a disaster. She silently cursed the bouncer from backstage. If she had met the band beforehand, she would’ve never ended up in this position. Building a professional relationship with the band after this was going to be next to impossible.

Hands patted her back and shoulders as the two bouncers flanking the stage helped her climb over the metal barrier. Lex squatted at the edge of the stage, all wicked grin and guyliner, and stuck his hand out. He cocked his head, beckoning her closer in a way that spoke without the words.
Come on over, lamb,
said the wolf.
This will only take a minute.

She shook off the foreboding feeling. This was only a silly stage stunt. She’d survive. And maybe it would give her an in to talk to the band later, proving that she was a good sport. She took a deep breath and reached out to him. The bouncers hoisted her up as if she weighed nothing, which was definitely not the case, and set her on the stage. Lex’s hand wrapped around hers as he pulled her to a stand. As soon as she was solidly on her feet, he turned them both toward the audience. The cheers bounced off her eardrums, echoing through every part of her like some sort of external heartbeat.

The lights blocked her view of the balcony, but she could see the first few rows of faces on the main floor smiling up at them. Her entire body trembled. The combination of stage fright, the energy of the audience, and Lex’s fingers curled around hers threatened to send her into full-scale hyperventilation.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Lex asked, holding the microphone out toward her.

She cleared her throat, trying to get her vocal cords to cooperate, and mumbled her name, but he heard “Bree” instead of Aubrey. She didn’t have the chance to correct him.

“Everybody, give Bree some love. She’s a brave woman to come up here on stage with us.” He turned to her and shoved the bangs of his shaggy hair to the side, his mouth tilted at the corner. “You ready?”

Seeing him up close sent her mind into some pre-verbal state. Those blue eyes of his seemed to cut through everything, the haze of smoke on the stage, the glare of the spotlights. It was a look that said,
I see you, don’t try to hide
. And the curl of his lips—a soft, sensual curve that seemed almost at odds with the strong and angular lines of his face. She had the completely insane urge to push up on her toes and press her mouth to his, just to see what that mouth felt like.

His eyebrow lifted, reminding her that he’d asked her a question.

God, what the hell was wrong with her? He probably thought she was shitfaced drunk or something. Her tongue had become some useless muscle taking up space between her teeth. She managed a nod. Lex gave a flash of a smile, secured his microphone in the stand, and then led her by her hand to the side of the stage where a row of large speaker stacks stood.

“All you need to do is lie across these and relax,” he whispered to her. “I’ll be gentle.”

She wet her lips and nodded again.
Just do what he tells you and this will be over quickly.
That’s what she kept telling herself. The quicker this was done, the less opportunity for her to make a complete ass of herself. She sat on the speakers and swung her legs onto them—a few inches of her five eight frame hanging off the end. She felt like she was at a magic show about to be sawed in half. She took a deep breath and laid back.

The blond lead guitarist took up the post by the microphone and called out, “Get this man some tequila!”

A female bartender from the club stepped onto the stage with a tray holding a shot glass, a saltshaker, and a slice of lime. She shimmied across the stage, inciting catcalls from the audience and then placed the items on a speaker near Aubrey’s feet.

“All right Lex, she’s all yours,” the guitarist announced.

Lex leaned over Aubrey, his eyes meeting hers with a
here we go
look. Then he eased the bottom of her shirt up to reveal her navel. She sucked in her stomach on instinct, wishing she hadn’t eaten that Lucky Dog on the way over. Hot fingers brushed against her skin, and everything went shivery inside her. Lord, have mercy. She swallowed hard, gritting her teeth to maintain her composure. She’d never done a body shot before, but she knew what would happen next. Panic seized her. What was she thinking? She couldn’t do this. She was working. This guy was her assignment. Having his tongue on her skin was so very not okay. Plus, she was on stage in front of a thousand people. She needed to stop him.

Lex’s cobalt stare met hers. “Still okay with this?”

Now was her moment to back out. He was giving her the chance to say no. She told herself to say no.

“Definitely,” she whispered.

What?

Her voice had finally decided to return, and
that’s
what she’d said?

His mouth lifted into a slow smile, and blood rushed to her cheeks. He placed the wedge of lime, pulp side facing out, between her lips before her brain could reboot and give the correct answer. “All right, let’s do this.”

Her fingers curled, her nails imprinting in her palms as Lex bent over. Just seeing that dark head move downward to the lower part of her body had really, really inappropriate things surging through her. Every muscle in her body tensed and readied. His tongue, warm and wet, glided over the spot above her belly button. She closed her eyes, her nerve endings seeming to quake as a flood of heat burned a path through her, lighting up places long dim. He sprinkled salt across the damp patch on her stomach, and took another lazy lick. She almost bit through the lime rind to keep from making some embarrassing, desperate sound. The men in the crowd whooped in encouragement.

Lex straightened and knocked back the shot. Before she could blink or process what was about to happen, he was inches from her face. His eyes held a glint of dark promise, and they didn’t move from hers as his lips closed over the lime. His mouth grazed hers, sending electric need sparking over her skin and heat gathering between her thighs. She resisted the urge to grab his shaggy hair and pull him down for a real kiss. She gripped the sides of the speakers with all her strength instead. God help her. Two minutes on stage and she’d turned into one of those fan girls in the audience.

Lex rose, finished sucking the lime, and then put his hand out to help her to her feet. She yanked her shirt down with trembling hands and joined him in front of the cheering crowd, giving silent thanks that she hadn’t acted on her ridiculous impulse to kiss him. As they stood side by side, Lex tucked his arm behind her and slid his hand into her back pocket. She stiffened at the feel of his hand on her ass. While still looking at the audience, he moved his mouth next to her ear, his voice fraught with wicked intention. “That’s a pass. Why don’t you come backstage and visit me after the show?”

Her attention snapped toward him and he flashed a cocky grin—one that said he had already carved a notch on his mental bedpost in her honor. Oh, hell no. So now he thought her willingness to do the body shot meant she was ready to be the groupie of the night? Was that how things worked in his world? Of course it was. The thought instantly cooled her body’s hair-trigger reaction from a moment earlier. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her gaze back to the crowd. Well, Mr. Rock Star was in for a rude awakening. He may have managed to get her all hot and bothered during her momentary lapse of sanity.

But she wasn’t some Wanderslut.

The blonde on Lex’s right placed her hand on his thigh and leaned into him. The pleather couch squeaked as she adjusted herself, allowing him an unencumbered view of her assets. “The show was
amazing
, Lex.”

He lifted the corner of his mouth into a wry smile. People had used the word “amazing” so many times around him over the last two years that it had lost all resonance. Very few things in life were truly amazing. His mom’s fried chicken? Definitely. Slash’s opening guitar riff on “Sweet Child O’ Mine”? Absolutely. The show tonight? Not so much. The band had sounded like four strangers trying to imitate Wanderlust songs, a cover band version of their former selves. Lex rested his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. They were falling apart, and he had no idea how to fix it.

“So what are you doing after you leave here?” asked the redhead on his right, her voice one note shy of purring.

Lex shrugged and lifted his head to look at her. She handed him a beer and he took a swig. “I don’t know. It’s been a long night already.”

“We could keep you company.” A hot pink fingernail scraped across his jeans, moving upward. Even the simple sound of that nail against denim was irritating his senses. “Both of us. Right, Candace?”

The blonde nodded.

He clamped his hand over the girl’s, stopping its progress. Both women were so close it was as if they were sucking up all the available air. He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. The groupies were nice to look at,
Maxim
cover-worthy bodies, but he wasn’t feeling it tonight. Hell, he hadn’t been feeling it for months. His eyes darted around the dimly lit room. He’d hoped the body shot girl would come backstage to visit, but he hadn’t seen her. Why wouldn’t she use her pass? He’d never had a woman not take advantage of a backstage pass he’d personally delivered.

He turned his head to check on Jared, the drummer. The guy consumed brunettes like an alcoholic downed cheap vodka. Lex would kick his ass if he’d intercepted body shot girl before she could get to Lex’s side of the room. But she wasn’t with Jared, either. Instead, a girl with curly dark hair was sitting next to him, fondling one of his drumsticks in a not-so-subtle manner. Jared appeared to be completely enthralled. Unlike Lex, the guy never tired of the endless stream of groupies.

“What do you think, sweet thing?” Candace asked.

“Huh?”

Candace rolled her eyes. “About the three of us having some fun tonight?”

He sighed. The offer was tempting—at least on some level. A few mindless hours with two women, two women whose only mission was to please him in the most lascivious ways, could probably help him forget the nightmare of a show. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the girl he’d pulled onstage—the way she’d trembled when he’d tasted her skin, the heat in her pale green eyes as they’d brushed lips. He’d barely been able to keep his dick from standing at attention right there on stage. That was what he was in the mood for. Someone with raw reactions, not the over-exaggerated fawning of well-practiced groupies. He scooted forward on the couch and away from their pawing. “Excuse me, ladies. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think it’s a good idea tonight. I need to chat with my manager and then get some shut-eye.”

They pouted in unison. “Let us know if you change your mind, baby,” one said as he walked off.

Lex tossed his beer in the trash and prowled the catering table. Finger sandwiches, bags of chips, and drinks sat next to a fishbowl of condoms. He grabbed a bottle of water and surveyed the room one last time. No body shot girl. Just the same generic companionship of the last dozen cities. Groundhog Day. He snuck off to the dressing room for some space.

The plum-colored walls and the smell of stale cigarette smoke did nothing to alleviate his claustrophobia, but at least the room was quiet. He sank onto the plush sofa and propped his feet on the arm of it. His gaze traced the water stains on the ceiling.
What the hell am I going to do now?

Tonight was the last of the club shows, and now the deadline for the second album loomed like some black hole ready to crush him for good. Their packed tour schedule wouldn’t fly as an excuse anymore. He’d been trying to write and rework the final songs for months now. Nothing had clicked. The tracks for the first album had poured out of him, as if he would burst if he didn’t get the words on paper fast enough. Easy. Quick. Effortless. The band loved them. The fans ate them up. Even the goddamned critics deemed the singles worthy of positive reviews.

Now everyone was expecting a sophomore album that didn’t just equal the first but blew it out of the goddamned water. They were all waiting for him to perform another miracle—a record that would push them into the stratosphere of arena-size shows. Lex Logan, their own personal Jesus. And the more time that went by without new songs, the more restless everyone became. The record label was making threats, he and the other band members argued nonstop, and his manager was drinking liquid antacid like it was Gatorade.

“Lex.” He heard Pete’s voice followed by knocking.

He didn’t open his eyes. “Go away. I’m busy.”

As usual, his manager didn’t listen. The door swung open.

“Lex, I need to talk to you for a minute,” Pete said, looking harried. He pulled a rubber band from his pocket and wrangled his unruly salt and pepper hair into ponytail. “What are you doing in here anyway?”

“Avoiding women who are only after me for my superior screwing skills.”

Pete snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Lex sat up and rubbed his palms on his jeans. “I needed a break. I’m over this whole scene tonight. All I want to do is grab a burger and go to the hotel.”

“Look, you can do that in a little while. The reporter from the
NOLA Vibe
is here to talk to you.”

“Nick’s here?” Lex smiled. “Awesome. I totally forgot we were doing that thing with him.” Nick Jackson was a high school buddy. Lex hadn’t seen him in more than a year, but he had promised to give Nick a story when Wanderlust came to New Orleans. “He’ll be up for a burger.”

Pete glanced at the closed door and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, Nick isn’t here.”

“What do you mean?” He didn’t like Pete’s tone. He had used that same tone to tell Lex he had one month—four lousy weeks—to finish the songs for the second album.

“Nick’s in the hospital.”

Lex shot to his feet, dwarfing Pete. “Holy shit, is he okay?”

Pete put his hands up, shrinking back. “He’s fine. Exploded appendix, I think, but okay. It’s just that, they’ve sent a replacement reporter.”

“Thank God he’s all right.” Lex raked his hands through his hair and then registered the second part of Pete’s statement. “Hold on, I don’t need a replacement reporter. The only reason I agreed to the exclusive was because Nick’s my friend. If he’s out, I’m out. You know I don’t have time to do a weeklong deal with some magazine, especially with all this crap going on.”

Pete approached the mirrors lining the back wall and rested a hip against the counter. “Man, I’m with you. I don’t want some reporter nosing around when you guys are at each other’s throats. The last thing we need is rumors about a breakup leaking out. But we agreed to an exclusive with the magazine, not with Nick. We’re obligated.”

Lex groaned. “The hell we are. This is supposed to be my mental vacation or whatever, right? Isn’t that what the label suggested? Take a breather, get inspired, pull a few number-one songs outta my ass. How am I supposed to do that with some reporter tagging along?”

“How were you going to do it with Nick?”

“Nick’s my buddy. It wouldn’t be like an interview. We’d hang out. He’d be one of the guys, like an honorary band member, no big deal. Plus, I trust him. If I asked him not to put something in a story, he wouldn’t.”

“Lex, I don’t think there’s a way out of this unless the magazine voluntarily pulls out. You’re going to have to figure out how to make it work.”

There was a light tap on the door, and both men turned their heads toward it.

“Come on in,” Pete said.

The door cracked open and Body Shot Girl stepped in. “Hey, I’m sorry to interrupt, but one of the guys told me I could come back here.”

Lex’s scowl morphed into a predatory grin as he scanned the sexy visitor. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a total loss. “Hey there, I didn’t think you were going to make it. If you give me just a minute, I’ll be right with you, sweetheart.”

She frowned and looked to Pete.

Pete cleared his throat. “Um, Lex, this is Aubrey Bordelon. She’s the reporter from the
NOLA Vibe
.”

“What?” Lex shook his head. “No, this is the chick I did the body shot with on stage.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Aubrey said dryly, “reporter and stage prop.”

“Shit.” Lex scowled. Of all the goddamned luck.

Aubrey crossed the room with a graceful, confident stride and stuck out her hand to him. Her smile seemed strained, though, like it was hurting her face “Hey, no big deal. You didn’t know, and I didn’t want to be a bad sport in front of the crowd. Why don’t we pretend it never happened and that we haven’t met yet? I’m Aubrey.”

He gripped her hand. He didn’t want to pretend it never happened. The moment that had passed between them on stage had been the only interesting moment of the whole drag of a night. “Lex Logan.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, dropping his hand and taking a significant step backward, as if he were contagious or something. “I guess Pete told you about Nick.”

Lex nodded.

“Yeah, so my boss asked me to take over. Nick’s going to be out of commission for a while.” She tucked her wavy, coffee-colored hair behind her ears, and Lex let his eyes roam to her jawline and the delicate curve of her neck. Her skin looked like the kind of pale that would burn rosy red if touched the right way. He wanted to reach out and test that theory, but he forced his eyes back to her face. She was still talking. “He said that the piece was supposed to be a slice of life kind of thing. A week in the life of a rock star. Is that what he had talked to you about?”

Lex stuck his hands in his back pockets and shrugged. He had no idea what she’d asked. He was suddenly too focused on the soft pink of her lips.

Pete jumped in. “Yeah, that’s what we discussed, Ms. Bordelon. A weeklong exclusive.”

Pete’s words dragged Lex back to reality. Why was he standing here like an idiot thinking about how beddable this girl was? She was a reporter, a reporter who would be trailing after him like a gnat while he tried to get his head and band back together. No way.

“Look, Aubrey,” he said, trying to sound as polite as possible. “I’m sure you’re a great music journalist and all, but I think I’m going to have to decline. I need the next few weeks to focus on my music and the next album. This is supposed to be a sort of inspiration vacation, if you will.”

He grinned at his clever term.

Her sweet smile disappeared and a no-nonsense look took its place. “Mr. Logan, I’m sorry you feel that way, but your manager signed a contract with the magazine guaranteeing the exclusive.”

“For an interview with Nick,” Lex said.

“You signed it with the magazine, not a specific reporter. Now, I can promise you that I will be as accommodating as possible. I don’t plan to get in the way of your
inspiration
. I simply need to observe and ask a few questions as we go along. I can be one of the guys just as much as Nick would be.”

He snorted. “Yeah, sure you can.”

She crossed her arms and a tinge of color crept from her neck to her face. “I assure you I’m qualified to handle the story.”

Lex tried to ignore how the flush in her cheeks made her look even more enticing. She was off limits. Not only off limits but trying to force him into a miserable week of interviews and hiding the truth. “Are you now? What other bands have you done interviews with?”

Her green eyes shifted away briefly. “I’m . . . just moving into the music portion of the magazine. I’ve been focusing on culinary articles up until now.”

Lex let out a loud laugh and turned to Pete. “They sent the goddamned restaurant reviewer. Can you believe this crap? They must be on some major drugs if they expect me to spend a week with a food and wine debutante. She doesn’t even write about music.”

Pete crossed the room and placed a hand on Lex’s shoulder. “Lex, calm down. Ms. Bordelon, I’m sorry. Lex is under a lot of pressure right now. He doesn’t mean to be so rude.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you always have your manager apologize for you, Mr. Logan?”

“Only when the apology isn’t genuine,” Lex replied.

She blew out a breath, clearly frustrated. “Fine. Look, I don’t want to argue. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, which is unfortunate. But, the fact of the matter is, you have a contract and I have a job to do.”

“Can’t the magazine back out?” Lex asked. “Cancel the contract from that end?”

“Sure, but we’re not going to do that. There’s too much buzz around you, Mr. Logan. Our readers are just
dyin’
to know every little thing, and we won’t let them down.” Sarcasm oozed off her sweet southern accent.

He smirked. “There are no little things about me, Ms. Bordelon. Just ask any of the girls out there.”

She pressed her lips together in a hard line, but color appeared high on her cheeks. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

Sure, she could be “just one of the guys.” She couldn’t even handle a dirty comment without getting flustered. Lex wet his lips. Okay, so he needed her to back out. Maybe getting her to do that would be fun. Based on her reactions so far, it certainly wouldn’t take long to get her annoyed enough to drop the whole thing. “Fine,
Miz
Bordelon, I’ll do the story. But I’m not adjusting anything to accommodate you. I’m going to do my thing, and you can follow us around. But just know, this ain’t a fine dining experience.”

She gave him a bored look. “Yeah, I get it. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Don’t worry about me. You’ll hardly notice I’m there.”

He grunted. Yeah, like that was possible.

Pete put his hand out to Aubrey. “Thank you, Ms. Bordelon. We look forward to working with you. I’m sure the guys plan on sleeping late in the morning, but why don’t you stop by the studio tomorrow afternoon? They’ll be working on a few tracks for the next album.”