WMIS 04 Rock With Me (3 page)

But I can’t seem to stay away from her.

“You’re kissable.”

“There you are!”

We jump apart guiltily at the sound of Meg’s voice in the doorway. She’s smiling happily,
not at all angry for finding me in a compromising position with her friend, and I
exhale in relief.

“Dinner’s ready,” Meg tells us.

“Good, I’m starving.” I wink at Sam, enjoying the blush on her cheeks. “Seven tomorrow.”

“Seven,” she murmurs as I saunter inside, looking forward to tomorrow.

Chapter Two

~Samantha~

I plug my earphones into my ears, que up the playlist that I’ve titled
sweat
on my iPhone and tuck it into my bra, pin my condo key in there as well so it doesn’t
fall through my cleavage and pull my front door closed behind me. I’m in black yoga
pants, a pink tank and a light pink hoodie to ward off the chilly Seattle winter day.
I’ve already stretched, so it’s time to run and clear my head.

As I jog down the stairs, rather than take the elevator, I can’t help but think of
Leo. I knew he wouldn’t show up this morning to run. Who the hell was he kidding last
night? And what in the name of Moses was up with him kissing me like that?

It’s best if I just forget all about that kiss and focus on finding a job.

I jog through the lobby of my building and wave at Frank the doorman; turn left on
the sidewalk and set out, Adam Levine’s smooth voice heavy in my ears, asking me to
give him one more night.

No problem, Adam.

Suddenly, there’s movement on my right and I startle, my heart climbs into my throat
and I let out a yelp and stumble. Strong hands grip my upper arms, keeping me upright,
and I look up into humor-filled gray eyes.

“What the hell?” I stammer and pull the plugs out of my ears.

“I told you I’d meet you this morning.”

“I didn’t think you’d show,” I respond and resume running, tucking my ear buds in
my bra.

“Interesting storage system you have there,” Leo remarks with a grin, blatantly looking
down at my breasts and I can’t help but laugh with him.

“I can’t carry a purse while I run.” I shrug and look at him out of the corner of
my eye. Really? Does he have to look this good at seven in the damn morning?

He’s much taller than my five foot two; at least a foot taller. He’s in basketball
shorts and sneakers and a black long-sleeved t-shirt under a red short-sleeved t-shirt.
I’m a little disappointed that only the tats on his hands are visible.

I’d like to trace his tattoos, with my fingers and my tongue.

Enough!

We run in silence for about four blocks.

“Do you want to know how far I’m going?” I ask him, pleased that I’m barely panting.

“Doesn’t matter,” he responds. He’s also barely panting.

Well, hell.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because I’ll run as far as you want.”

“Okay.” I smirk and pick up my pace, my body warmed now and ready to just go. He easily
matches my pace. I wouldn’t admit it to him right now, but it feels good to have someone
next to me while I run. No one has ever been interested in running with me before.
It does make me feel safer, even if we aren’t talking, just breathing and running
side-by-side.

“You can plug your tunes back in if you want.” He smiles over at me.

“It’s okay.” I wave him off and continue running. I kind of like hearing him breathe.

“What were you listening to?”

“It was a Maroon5 song.” I smile at him. What is it about this guy that makes me feel
so comfortable?

“Maroon5 fan?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

“Who’s your favorite band?” He asks with a curious grin.

Nash.

I am so not telling him that. Instead I shrug again and try to think of another band.
Damn, it’s hard when he’s so close I can smell him.

He smells bloody fantastic.

“I like all kinds of music. No one band in particular.”

“Me too,” I hear the smile in his voice. “You were right, running at this time in
the morning is great.”

“I know. It’s relatively quiet, and I don’t even mind that it’s rainy. Are you ready
to speed up again?”

“Of course, I’m just following your lead.”

I pick up the pace once again, and we are now running at a fast clip. My breathing
is coming fast enough that it’s difficult to talk, and I can hear that it’s the same
for him, so we fall silent and just enjoy the run, the constant thud, thud, thud of
our feet hitting the pavement in perfect sync. I don’t care that it’s drizzling lightly,
that my cheeks and the tip of my nose are cold. I wipe my nose on my hoodie and keep
going.

I told myself last night while in bed thinking about this sexy rock star and his delicious
kisses that I’d give him a run for his money today, but damn if I’m not enjoying myself.

Three miles in, I start to slow down, feeling the burn in my thighs.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern on his face.

Why is he so nice?

“I’m fine, I thought you might be getting tired,” I lie. I’ll die before I tell him
my thighs burn.

“I’m fine,” he frowns.

“Okay,” I shrug like I’m fine and pick the pace up again. My thighs and calves cry
in protest, but I keep my face blank and instead concentrate on my breathing and sound
of our feet.

If he can do it, so can I. I’ll go another two miles.

Finally, I breathe an inner sigh of relief when I start to slow. My legs are a little
rubbery. I do usually run every morning, but I haven’t trained for a marathon in a
long time, thanks to my job.

My ex-job.

My body shows the lack of training.

Leo slows with me and leads me into a park with picnic tables. He leads me to the
nearest table.

“Sit on top of the table,” he directs me, his voice hard.

I follow his orders and frown up at him. “Why?”

“Why did you do that?” He pulls my right leg straight and begins working his thumbs
and fingers into my thigh muscles and I barely hold my moan of pleasure in.

Dear God he has great hands.

“Do what?”

“You obviously went farther than you’re used to. Your legs are shaking.”

“I’m fine.” I set my jaw and try to pull out of his grip, but he leans in and braces
himself on his hand at my hip, his face a few inches from mine and tight with anger.

“Don’t ever lie to me, sunshine. I don’t ever want you to run until your legs give
out on you like this again. The only time your legs will shake like this is if I’m
inside you.”

My mouth drops open and my eyes go wide. He glares down at me for another heartbeat
and then resumes his work on my legs, pampering them and massaging them.

When was the last time someone wanted to take care of me? I don’t even remember.

If I’m inside you.

Damn.

As tempting as that sounds, that just can’t happen.

He rubs my other leg, and as I start to feel better, I pull away from him and stand
up.

“Thanks, I’m fine.” I can’t meet his eyes. It’s too easy to like this guy, to want
to give in to his touch and his kindness.

He’s family.

He’s a celebrity.

Not going there.

He walks with me back toward my condo. We ran in a circle, so my place isn’t far.
As we pass my favorite café, Leo grips my elbow to pull me to a stop and I can’t help
the flinch as I pull away.

His eyes go hot as he scowls down at me. I clear my throat. He’s watching me, like
he wants to ask me something, but he just sighs.

“Let’s grab some breakfast.” He gestures to the café and loses his scowl. I shouldn’t
spend any more time with him. But the thought of going home with no job to go to and
really nothing planned for today doesn’t excite me.

“Okay.”

He leads me to a booth and we settle in across from each other.

“Coffee?” the waitress asks as she approaches the table.

“Sure,” Leo responds.

“No thanks,” I murmur and grab the menu. “Just orange juice.”

“No coffee?” Leo asks as the waitress leaves.

“No,” I wrinkle my nose in disgust and read the menu, as if I don’t already know what
I want. “I hate coffee.”

“You do realize that you live in Seattle, right?” He chuckles and takes a sip of his
black coffee. “I think enjoying coffee is a law.”

“Don’t call the coffee police. I never developed a taste for it. I love this place.”
I close the menu and sit back in my chair and can’t avoid looking at him anymore.

My insides do a double flip. It should be illegal to look like him. His hair is wet,
but his style is a messy feaux-hawk anyway, so it looks fine. He’s casual in his running
clothes, tattooed hands wrapped around his mug, and it’s easy to forget that he’s
a celebrity.

He’s just a guy.

The waitress brings my juice and takes our orders and leaves us.

“So.” He leans back and braces an elbow on the back of the booth. “Why aren’t you
working today?”

“How do you know I’m not?” I ask.

“You said last night that you’re not working any more. Why not?” His eyes narrow slightly,
and he’s watching me closely.

No lying.

“I got fired,” I answer and take a sip of juice, trying to clean the bad taste that
word left behind.

Fired.

His eyebrows climb into his hairline in surprise. “Why?”

I shrug and look down at my juice. I don’t want to tell him this.

He leans in and takes my hand in his and I can’t stop the instinctual jump that comes
with being touched.

What is wrong with me?

“Why do you flinch every time I touch you?” he asks in a low, tight voice.

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

“Look at me.” His voice leaves no room for argument, so I look up into his angry gray
eyes. “Tell me.”

I shrug again and shake my head. “It’s stupid. I’m no victim, Leo. You don’t know
me well, but I would think you’d know me well enough by now to know that I don’t take
shit from anyone.”

“Okay, go on.” He keeps my hand in his and rubs his thumb over the back of my hand.

God, that feels good.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” And that’s the truth.

“Okay, fair enough. We’ll save it.” He smiles reassuringly, but doesn’t release my
hand.

Where is our food?

Not that I’m hungry now, but I’d really like to have my hand back. He runs his thumb
over my knuckles again, sending a tingle through me. I slide my hand out and away
from his against the table and grip my juice in my hands. My hand is cold not just
because of the cool juice but because of the loss of contact.

He smiles softly, and I find myself smiling back.

“You are beautiful when you smile, Sam.”

“Um, thank you.”

“Tell me about your job,” he demands and sits back as our food is delivered.

“I was the editor at Seattle Magazine for eight years.” I sprinkle pepper on my omelet
and take a bite.

“That’s a long time.”

“Yeah, I liked it. I was good at it.”

“So what happened?”

“About a year ago, my boss wanted me to run a piece on Luke. He figured since Luke’s
my brother, I should be able to get an exclusive with him, his new wife, run a spread
in the magazine.”

“But you’re not a reporter,” Leo interrupts with a frown.

“No, but he wanted me to make an exception, since he knew I wouldn’t let anyone else
do it.” I lower my fork to my plate and take a sip of juice. “I told him absolutely
not.” I shake my head as I remember the anger on my boss’s face when I told him I
wouldn’t do the piece.

“What made you tell him no?” Leo asks.

“Luke is fiercely private. There is no way in hell I’d put him in my magazine. Besides,
it’s insulting to ask me to write a piece on my family, and then get pissed when I
say no.” I scowl, pissed all over again.

“Okay, so what does that have to do with you getting fired now?” He asks and eats
his pancakes.

“How can you eat pancakes and stay thin?” I ask before thinking.

He smirks, that piercing catching my eye. “Genetics.”

“Lucky bastard,” I mutter, earning a belly laugh from him and my whole being just
stills.

My God, he’s amazing when he laughs.

“Anyway,” I continue, shaking myself awake. “Last week the same boss came to me and
ripped me a new asshole for not telling him before that I’m linked to Will Montgomery
through my family.”