Reckless by Priscilla West
Sweat dripped from Jax’s forehead as five thousand fans roared for more. It was hard to deny the appeal. "Yeah. I guess he is," I said, surprising myself with my response. I’d been trying to avoid him all day and yet here I was, watching him from backstage, mesmerized by his performance.
Jax, stalking across stage, came to a sudden halt as did the music. He stayed in position for a few moments, still and silent. The lights dimmed, and the crowd’s manic cheers trailed to a hush. Almost imperceptibly at first, slow, quiet notes emerged from Kev’s guitar. One at a time, then closer together, the notes began to form a haunting, lonely melody, bringing a round of quiet applause from the audience. Jax’s arms fell back to his guitar and he pulled his body inward.
A single yellow-orange light glowed warmly on him. His voice dropped almost to a whisper as he sang into the microphone.
The city moon was full
on the night I met you first
we were heading for disaster right away
We wished on falling stars above
but now I know too well
Nothing holds up to the savage light of day
You can't know who I have been
Your love can never be true
We wear masks til our faces fade out
And someday your mask becomes you.
His voice stayed quiet, but with hoarse undertones of restrained urgency that made it seem like he could cry out at any moment. The notes pierced into me, hitting something deep inside my chest. My arms hugged against my torso, tight.
I’d never seen him quite like this. At the first Hitchcocks concert, Jax had been intensely seductive, animalistic, strutting around the stage like he owned it. Now, it was like he’d melded with the music. I couldn’t deny my physical attraction to him, but now, I was finding myself strangely wanting him even more. He wasn’t just a pretty face—or a gorgeous body—or even just an incredible voice. He was a passionate soul.
I couldn’t help noticing the effect he had on the crowd here and the one that night at the Wallabee. It was so extraordinary that I decided to put a name to it: The Jax Effect. And, for the first time, I felt myself starting to truly surrender to it in spite of my best efforts.
His voice was pure sex, compressed into its most elemental form, and listening to it made me unable to think of anything else. I craved Jax’s strong hands. I ached with need for his lips on mine. I found myself wishing that I could just run onto the stage and kiss him, imagining his powerful arms encircling me, his mouth hungry and eager as our tongues twisted together.
The crowd stood at rapt attention as the chorus approached, silent, completely changed from their frenzy of a few minutes before. The sudden silence was almost a sound in itself. It was like Jax had cast a spell on the entire audience, and no one was immune.
The chorus started, and Jax tilted his head back in pure rock ecstasy. His vocal cords soared into the top of their range, screaming with passionate intensity. Fireworks lit off, one after another, exploding into fiery blossoms behind his taut form.
His hands gripped the neck of his guitar roughly, and I couldn’t help but remember his strong fingers driving me wild as they pressed into my skin. I had a sudden flash of fantasy: bound in his arms, his fingers stroking my body with the passion and precision of a guitar solo. A massive firework blast fired right behind Jax as he changed keys and went into the song’s last chorus.
Breathe, Riley, I told myself as my daydreams took over despite my best intentions. Just keep breathing.
As Kev struck the final guitar chord, Jax stood in the bright arena lights like the rock god he was: arms out, eyes closed, face relaxed. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. Butterflies cascaded through my stomach, and I felt my toes curling and clinging to the soles of my flats.
It’s just a song, Riley, I tried to tell myself. It’s nothing to get worked up over. But not everyone could sing the way Jax did. His voice had been so grief-stricken, so forlorn, that it sounded like he was experiencing heartbreak for the first time. I tried focusing on the other members of the band. If I was going to watch the show, I owed it to myself not to let the Jax Effect turn me into a brainwashed fangirl.
It only made the rest of the show a little bit easier. By the time the encore was over, I felt like I’d been put through an emotional wringer. The band stood basking in the applause, and I couldn’t help reassessing my opinion of Jax.
Maybe I’d misjudged him. Maybe he was a deep human being who didn’t only have sex on his mind.
I stepped off to the side, preparing for the band to leave the stage without noticing me back here.
As Kev, Chewie, and Sky began to walk over, Jax lingered, taking the microphone one last time. "I just want to give a final shoutout tonight. This goes out to that special girl out there who goes ‘til she’s sore. Let me tell you something, Pepper: it’s your move."
What?!
My hand flew to my open mouth. Blood rushed to my face. I couldn’t believe my ears. He was toying with me.
My head shook in disbelief. Before it had just been between the two of us, but now he was involving thousands of people into this tug of war game. All just so he could get into my pants? I began to realize that I couldn’t just avoid or ignore Jax anymore. Doing so only escalated the situation. I already had trouble focusing on my work because of him, and if he kept raising the stakes, it’d be damn near impossible.
Hiding behind another curtain, I watched the band come backstage. Chewie and Kev wasted no time getting a groupie apiece, and Sky had not one, but two hot guys fawning over her. Jax followed them, but noticeably without any groupies accompanying him. They all went into the green room together, overflowing bottles of champagne in hand. A moment after the door shut behind them, I heard through the door what sounded like a dozen people laughing.
But I wasn’t laughing. I was worried. I had to put a stop to Jax’s pursuit before things got out of hand.
Chapter Nine
ARRANGEMENTS
The next morning, the pain hit before I even opened my eyes. The muscles all around my back ached from sleeping on the hard-as-a-rock couch. I groaned, turning over onto my side for some relief. Just my luck. First the button-making, now the couch. What else was going to go wrong?
I groggily picked my phone off the floor and looked at the time. Damn it. 6:30 AM. I was hundreds of miles and a time zone away from my New York office, but my body apparently hadn’t gotten the memo. I’d slept less than four hours. Was this how it was going to be for the whole two week assignment?
Bleary-eyed and sore, I didn’t have the willpower to get up, so I checked for new emails. I was surprised to find I’d gotten one from Palmer in the middle of the night—subject line "HCs Urgent."
R: Looked at your analysis and agree. HCs budget = fucked. Needs minimum 10% cuts, not gonna be easy in 2 weeks. In recognition, got the higher-ups to approve $20k bonus for on-time completion. Don’t say I never did anything for you. Don’t fuck this up.
—P
My breath caught in my throat. Twenty thousand dollars? Holy crap. That was almost four full months of salary, enough to pay off the rest of my student loans and still have enough left over for a week of sipping umbrella drinks on a tropical beach. This, alone, could make up for my crummy luck so far. I was so excited I could’ve kissed my phone.
I stopped just before my lips made contact with the screen. There was one thing that stood between me and the biggest bonus of my career so far, and his name was Jax.
Reducing a budget was already a difficult task, but if Jax wanted to oppose my cuts, he could hold up the process for ages while we tried to hammer out the details. I had to get him on my side, which meant I needed to win him over.
But that was a whole other problem in itself. He was trouble. Serious trouble. All he wanted was to play games with me, and it didn’t help that I was drawn to him in spite of how much he frustrated me. My strategy had first been to avoid him, and now, more recently, to tell him off. But if I wanted that
bonus, it would mean I’d have to persuade him to be agreeable. How the hell was I going to pull this off?
Shaking my head at my new dilemma, I raised from the couch, and a sudden shooting pain traveled up my neck, reminding me of how terribly I slept last night. As I simultaneously yawned and groaned in agony, I figured out how I could relieve these aching muscles.
I pressed my ear up against the stairwell. Light snores greeted me from upstairs, and as I looked around, I couldn’t see any of Chewie’s telltale clouds of secondhand smoke. Perfect. I hadn’t had time to sprawl out on my own since I’d gotten on the bus.
I rummaged through my suitcase for my new bikini, taking the tags off the purple-and-green plaid top and solid green bottoms as I went into the bathroom to change. I had packed the bikini in a flash of inspiration, when I thought that we might be stopping by some hotels during the tour.
When I finished changing and came out of the bathroom, I spotted a set of stemmed glasses and three bottles of Dom Perignon next to the staircase, all opened. Two were completely empty, and I could see the bubbles still clinging to the sides of the third. Last night must have been crazy.
I looked around at some of the goodies the band had brought back to the bus. Part of me wanted to yell at them because of their wasteful spending—but another part of me was sorry I’d missed it.
I couldn’t stand the sight of expensive champagne going to waste, so I fixed myself a mimosa. Drink in hand, I climbed the stairs to the roof deck, and found what I was looking for: the hot tub, warm and inviting in the early morning light.
I slid the cover off the hot tub and dipped a toe in. Mmm, warm. As I set my glass on the edge of the tub and lowered my aching body into the water, an involuntary sigh of relief escaped my lips. There, that was much better.
The wind whipped through my hair as the bus rolled smoothly down the highway. I was high above the traffic, so even though I was technically outside, the roof deck still managed to seem almost private. I closed my eyes, feeling like I’d fallen into someone else’s dream.
I didn’t know how I was going to fix my Jax problem, but between his late-night party schedule and how early I’d woken up, he’d still be asleep for hours anyway. I could at least enjoy the calm before the inevitable storm.
As I sunk my body lower into the water, the warmth rose up my neck to the bottom of my chin. I turned on the bubbles and loved how the jets massaged my aching body. With each slow breath, I felt my muscles unknotting and my tension easing away.
When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was purple.
The swirling water was rapidly changing color. I realized with horror that the culprit was my own bikini top. "Shit!" I said, standing up as quickly as I could. Was it really too much to ask for a bikini, of all things, not to bleed dye when it hit warm water?
I realized immediately that I had two choices: get out of the tub now before any more dye bled in or take my top off. No matter how crazy I’d gotten, toplessness in public had always been a no-go for me, drunk or sober.
I started to get out, but cried out when a back muscle spasmed. If I got out now, I’d be sore for the rest of the day, maybe longer. I looked around as a precaution, but didn’t see anyone. The water was high enough to cover my chest, and I was pretty sure no one would be able to see me from the road. The coast was clear.
With a sigh, I untied the back of the bikini top and set it on a deck chair just outside the tub. I made sure it was within reach, in case I needed to grab it quickly.
At least it was the top, not the bottom, I thought as I sank back into the tub. The jets were working their magic, and I closed my eyes in relaxation again. Ah, wardrobe malfunction aside, this was the life. The Hitchcocks took rockstar luxe to the next level, and it was such foreign territory that I couldn’t help but be awed. Officially, I disapproved, but it was impressive in its own way to see what kind of tour bus would satisfy their requirements.
My parents had prided themselves on their frugality, and even my modest weekend warrior lifestyle had earned me a number of well-meaning lectures from mom and dad. I wondered what they’d think if they could see me today, drinking last night’s champagne at seven in the morning, topless in a hot tub that belonged to a rock band.
I made a mental note to text them later. I’d have to tell them I was busy with my accounting work in Manhattan, a comforting lie that would hopefully keep them from calling back until the two-week stint was over.
The wind picked up with a massive gale that made the bus' top deck sway. I held my glass tight, eyes closed, relishing the feel of the currents. The wind slowly died down and I opened my eyes again.
Then I saw him standing there on the roof deck.
The bikini top lay in a crumpled heap beside Jax’s black flip flops, blown halfway across the deck by the wind. His dark eyes were piercing straight into me.
"Eeep!" I squeaked as I quickly turned the bubbles to HIGH and sank into the water, mortified by the situation.
He was dressed in a t-shirt and slate gray shorts that sagged slightly at one side of his hips. His long hair was more than a little tousled like he’d been tossing and turning in bed. This new side of him was surprisingly hot and it only added to my shock.
Does he see the top? Please be no. Please be no. After the stunts he’d already pulled on me, I dreaded him discovering how much of an advantage he could have over me right now.
He nodded at my mimosa. "You start drinking early, I see."
His eyes were on me rather than his feet, which made me think that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t see the purple bikini. "You’re awake," I said, as if to confirm to myself that this nightmare was really happening. "I thought you’d be sleeping for a long time." My arms hugged against myself tight. I was silently praying he’d leave soon so I could get my top back.
"Never got the hang of sleeping," he said casually. His feet shifted slightly as he ran a hand through the sexy mess of his hair, fixing a problem spot.
My heart was pounding in my chest. I swallowed to clear a lump that had developed in my throat. "Okay, well . . . if you don’t mind, I’m trying to relax. If you want to talk about counting sheep or something, we can do it later in the day."
He paused for a moment, staring at me with a skeptical look. I kept a firm expression on my face until he eventually shrugged then turned to leave. I watched in anticipation as he got as far as the sundeck entrance, where he stopped.
"You know what," he said, "drinking in the morning does sound like a good idea." He turned back around and walked toward the bar. He inadvertently stepped on my top as he did so, sending a spike of fear through me. He flashed a smirk at me. "I think I’ll join you."
My stomach sank. Goddammit, Jax! He approached a barstool a few feet away from me and plopped his ridiculously nice ass down on it, making himself comfortable while I stared ruefully at the purple fabric like a child who’d dropped a prized possession down a grate. "Jax, I’m kind of busy right now—"
"So am I," he said with a heart-stopping smile as he poured from two bottles of amber liquid into a cocktail glass with ice cubes in it. "What are you drinking?"
"A mimosa," I said through gritted teeth, "since your band doesn’t seem to think good champagne is worth finishing."
He smiled nonchalantly. "Sounds delicious. Mine’s a Godfather. Scotch, amaretto. Brando’s favorite. Want some?" He took a sip of the drink, never taking his dark eyes off me.
"No," I said, barely concealing my irritation then nodded toward the towel cabinet beside him. My voice lightened. "Hey, can you throw me a towel?"
He looked briefly at the stack of towels. "You’ve got arms, grab one yourself." He raised the drink back to his lips and took a leisurely sip.
That asshole!
"Why are you up, anyway?" he asked. "I’m usually the only one awake at this hour."
"Yeah, well, makes sense since you’re a vampire," I snapped, feeling like I was cornered and running out of options. I focused on keeping my eyes away fr
om the bikini top, no matter how much I was tempted to make sure it didn’t blow further away. I had one last resort and that was to keep him distracted. "No need for sleep."
He nodded toward the rising sun with a wry half-smile on his face. "Your theory’s got some holes in it."
"No it doesn’t. Sun or not, you still suck."
His smile widened. "So why aren’t you asleep?" he reiterated, ignoring my barb.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. I sensed that the more I pushed, the more his interest in me grew. "Can’t really get a good night’s sleep on the couch, at least not yet. Combination of my internal clock and the hard seats."
"You could always sleep in my bed," he said so matter-of-factly that he might as well have been saying, you could always get a Diet Coke from the fridge.
"In your dreams," I replied, the memory of the crazy New York concert and Jax’s run from an angry mob still fresh in my mind. "I don’t get in bed with guys who almost get me killed twice in a week."
The wind picked up again, and the bikini top rolled end over end further away. Damn it. Fate was so cruel.
"You’re kidding yourself. I know you liked the danger. After all, you’re the most badass tour accountant I’ve ever met."
"Save the lines for someone else." I rolled my eyes again even though a small part of me was delighted by his compliment. Whatever game Jax was playing, it wasn’t one I wanted in on. Besides, if we played now, I’d be starting with a handicap of one item of clothing and a whole lot of dignity.
Without warning, he set his drink down, stood then walked over to the scrap of purple-and-green cloth. A wave of dread passed over me as he casually bent to pick up the bikini. He looked at it curiously as he dangled it between two fingers.
My eyes widened in horror.
"Did you see this?" he asked, waving the bikini.
Shit shit shit.
I was a wreck of negative emotions. "What?" I spluttered.
He tilted his head to the side for a moment, studying it. "One of the groupies must have left it behind."
Jax, stalking across stage, came to a sudden halt as did the music. He stayed in position for a few moments, still and silent. The lights dimmed, and the crowd’s manic cheers trailed to a hush. Almost imperceptibly at first, slow, quiet notes emerged from Kev’s guitar. One at a time, then closer together, the notes began to form a haunting, lonely melody, bringing a round of quiet applause from the audience. Jax’s arms fell back to his guitar and he pulled his body inward.
A single yellow-orange light glowed warmly on him. His voice dropped almost to a whisper as he sang into the microphone.
The city moon was full
on the night I met you first
we were heading for disaster right away
We wished on falling stars above
but now I know too well
Nothing holds up to the savage light of day
You can't know who I have been
Your love can never be true
We wear masks til our faces fade out
And someday your mask becomes you.
His voice stayed quiet, but with hoarse undertones of restrained urgency that made it seem like he could cry out at any moment. The notes pierced into me, hitting something deep inside my chest. My arms hugged against my torso, tight.
I’d never seen him quite like this. At the first Hitchcocks concert, Jax had been intensely seductive, animalistic, strutting around the stage like he owned it. Now, it was like he’d melded with the music. I couldn’t deny my physical attraction to him, but now, I was finding myself strangely wanting him even more. He wasn’t just a pretty face—or a gorgeous body—or even just an incredible voice. He was a passionate soul.
I couldn’t help noticing the effect he had on the crowd here and the one that night at the Wallabee. It was so extraordinary that I decided to put a name to it: The Jax Effect. And, for the first time, I felt myself starting to truly surrender to it in spite of my best efforts.
His voice was pure sex, compressed into its most elemental form, and listening to it made me unable to think of anything else. I craved Jax’s strong hands. I ached with need for his lips on mine. I found myself wishing that I could just run onto the stage and kiss him, imagining his powerful arms encircling me, his mouth hungry and eager as our tongues twisted together.
The crowd stood at rapt attention as the chorus approached, silent, completely changed from their frenzy of a few minutes before. The sudden silence was almost a sound in itself. It was like Jax had cast a spell on the entire audience, and no one was immune.
The chorus started, and Jax tilted his head back in pure rock ecstasy. His vocal cords soared into the top of their range, screaming with passionate intensity. Fireworks lit off, one after another, exploding into fiery blossoms behind his taut form.
His hands gripped the neck of his guitar roughly, and I couldn’t help but remember his strong fingers driving me wild as they pressed into my skin. I had a sudden flash of fantasy: bound in his arms, his fingers stroking my body with the passion and precision of a guitar solo. A massive firework blast fired right behind Jax as he changed keys and went into the song’s last chorus.
Breathe, Riley, I told myself as my daydreams took over despite my best intentions. Just keep breathing.
As Kev struck the final guitar chord, Jax stood in the bright arena lights like the rock god he was: arms out, eyes closed, face relaxed. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. Butterflies cascaded through my stomach, and I felt my toes curling and clinging to the soles of my flats.
It’s just a song, Riley, I tried to tell myself. It’s nothing to get worked up over. But not everyone could sing the way Jax did. His voice had been so grief-stricken, so forlorn, that it sounded like he was experiencing heartbreak for the first time. I tried focusing on the other members of the band. If I was going to watch the show, I owed it to myself not to let the Jax Effect turn me into a brainwashed fangirl.
It only made the rest of the show a little bit easier. By the time the encore was over, I felt like I’d been put through an emotional wringer. The band stood basking in the applause, and I couldn’t help reassessing my opinion of Jax.
Maybe I’d misjudged him. Maybe he was a deep human being who didn’t only have sex on his mind.
I stepped off to the side, preparing for the band to leave the stage without noticing me back here.
As Kev, Chewie, and Sky began to walk over, Jax lingered, taking the microphone one last time. "I just want to give a final shoutout tonight. This goes out to that special girl out there who goes ‘til she’s sore. Let me tell you something, Pepper: it’s your move."
What?!
My hand flew to my open mouth. Blood rushed to my face. I couldn’t believe my ears. He was toying with me.
My head shook in disbelief. Before it had just been between the two of us, but now he was involving thousands of people into this tug of war game. All just so he could get into my pants? I began to realize that I couldn’t just avoid or ignore Jax anymore. Doing so only escalated the situation. I already had trouble focusing on my work because of him, and if he kept raising the stakes, it’d be damn near impossible.
Hiding behind another curtain, I watched the band come backstage. Chewie and Kev wasted no time getting a groupie apiece, and Sky had not one, but two hot guys fawning over her. Jax followed them, but noticeably without any groupies accompanying him. They all went into the green room together, overflowing bottles of champagne in hand. A moment after the door shut behind them, I heard through the door what sounded like a dozen people laughing.
But I wasn’t laughing. I was worried. I had to put a stop to Jax’s pursuit before things got out of hand.
Chapter Nine
ARRANGEMENTS
The next morning, the pain hit before I even opened my eyes. The muscles all around my back ached from sleeping on the hard-as-a-rock couch. I groaned, turning over onto my side for some relief. Just my luck. First the button-making, now the couch. What else was going to go wrong?
I groggily picked my phone off the floor and looked at the time. Damn it. 6:30 AM. I was hundreds of miles and a time zone away from my New York office, but my body apparently hadn’t gotten the memo. I’d slept less than four hours. Was this how it was going to be for the whole two week assignment?
Bleary-eyed and sore, I didn’t have the willpower to get up, so I checked for new emails. I was surprised to find I’d gotten one from Palmer in the middle of the night—subject line "HCs Urgent."
R: Looked at your analysis and agree. HCs budget = fucked. Needs minimum 10% cuts, not gonna be easy in 2 weeks. In recognition, got the higher-ups to approve $20k bonus for on-time completion. Don’t say I never did anything for you. Don’t fuck this up.
—P
My breath caught in my throat. Twenty thousand dollars? Holy crap. That was almost four full months of salary, enough to pay off the rest of my student loans and still have enough left over for a week of sipping umbrella drinks on a tropical beach. This, alone, could make up for my crummy luck so far. I was so excited I could’ve kissed my phone.
I stopped just before my lips made contact with the screen. There was one thing that stood between me and the biggest bonus of my career so far, and his name was Jax.
Reducing a budget was already a difficult task, but if Jax wanted to oppose my cuts, he could hold up the process for ages while we tried to hammer out the details. I had to get him on my side, which meant I needed to win him over.
But that was a whole other problem in itself. He was trouble. Serious trouble. All he wanted was to play games with me, and it didn’t help that I was drawn to him in spite of how much he frustrated me. My strategy had first been to avoid him, and now, more recently, to tell him off. But if I wanted that
Shaking my head at my new dilemma, I raised from the couch, and a sudden shooting pain traveled up my neck, reminding me of how terribly I slept last night. As I simultaneously yawned and groaned in agony, I figured out how I could relieve these aching muscles.
I pressed my ear up against the stairwell. Light snores greeted me from upstairs, and as I looked around, I couldn’t see any of Chewie’s telltale clouds of secondhand smoke. Perfect. I hadn’t had time to sprawl out on my own since I’d gotten on the bus.
I rummaged through my suitcase for my new bikini, taking the tags off the purple-and-green plaid top and solid green bottoms as I went into the bathroom to change. I had packed the bikini in a flash of inspiration, when I thought that we might be stopping by some hotels during the tour.
When I finished changing and came out of the bathroom, I spotted a set of stemmed glasses and three bottles of Dom Perignon next to the staircase, all opened. Two were completely empty, and I could see the bubbles still clinging to the sides of the third. Last night must have been crazy.
I looked around at some of the goodies the band had brought back to the bus. Part of me wanted to yell at them because of their wasteful spending—but another part of me was sorry I’d missed it.
I couldn’t stand the sight of expensive champagne going to waste, so I fixed myself a mimosa. Drink in hand, I climbed the stairs to the roof deck, and found what I was looking for: the hot tub, warm and inviting in the early morning light.
I slid the cover off the hot tub and dipped a toe in. Mmm, warm. As I set my glass on the edge of the tub and lowered my aching body into the water, an involuntary sigh of relief escaped my lips. There, that was much better.
The wind whipped through my hair as the bus rolled smoothly down the highway. I was high above the traffic, so even though I was technically outside, the roof deck still managed to seem almost private. I closed my eyes, feeling like I’d fallen into someone else’s dream.
I didn’t know how I was going to fix my Jax problem, but between his late-night party schedule and how early I’d woken up, he’d still be asleep for hours anyway. I could at least enjoy the calm before the inevitable storm.
As I sunk my body lower into the water, the warmth rose up my neck to the bottom of my chin. I turned on the bubbles and loved how the jets massaged my aching body. With each slow breath, I felt my muscles unknotting and my tension easing away.
When I opened my eyes again, all I saw was purple.
The swirling water was rapidly changing color. I realized with horror that the culprit was my own bikini top. "Shit!" I said, standing up as quickly as I could. Was it really too much to ask for a bikini, of all things, not to bleed dye when it hit warm water?
I realized immediately that I had two choices: get out of the tub now before any more dye bled in or take my top off. No matter how crazy I’d gotten, toplessness in public had always been a no-go for me, drunk or sober.
I started to get out, but cried out when a back muscle spasmed. If I got out now, I’d be sore for the rest of the day, maybe longer. I looked around as a precaution, but didn’t see anyone. The water was high enough to cover my chest, and I was pretty sure no one would be able to see me from the road. The coast was clear.
With a sigh, I untied the back of the bikini top and set it on a deck chair just outside the tub. I made sure it was within reach, in case I needed to grab it quickly.
At least it was the top, not the bottom, I thought as I sank back into the tub. The jets were working their magic, and I closed my eyes in relaxation again. Ah, wardrobe malfunction aside, this was the life. The Hitchcocks took rockstar luxe to the next level, and it was such foreign territory that I couldn’t help but be awed. Officially, I disapproved, but it was impressive in its own way to see what kind of tour bus would satisfy their requirements.
My parents had prided themselves on their frugality, and even my modest weekend warrior lifestyle had earned me a number of well-meaning lectures from mom and dad. I wondered what they’d think if they could see me today, drinking last night’s champagne at seven in the morning, topless in a hot tub that belonged to a rock band.
I made a mental note to text them later. I’d have to tell them I was busy with my accounting work in Manhattan, a comforting lie that would hopefully keep them from calling back until the two-week stint was over.
The wind picked up with a massive gale that made the bus' top deck sway. I held my glass tight, eyes closed, relishing the feel of the currents. The wind slowly died down and I opened my eyes again.
Then I saw him standing there on the roof deck.
The bikini top lay in a crumpled heap beside Jax’s black flip flops, blown halfway across the deck by the wind. His dark eyes were piercing straight into me.
"Eeep!" I squeaked as I quickly turned the bubbles to HIGH and sank into the water, mortified by the situation.
He was dressed in a t-shirt and slate gray shorts that sagged slightly at one side of his hips. His long hair was more than a little tousled like he’d been tossing and turning in bed. This new side of him was surprisingly hot and it only added to my shock.
Does he see the top? Please be no. Please be no. After the stunts he’d already pulled on me, I dreaded him discovering how much of an advantage he could have over me right now.
He nodded at my mimosa. "You start drinking early, I see."
His eyes were on me rather than his feet, which made me think that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t see the purple bikini. "You’re awake," I said, as if to confirm to myself that this nightmare was really happening. "I thought you’d be sleeping for a long time." My arms hugged against myself tight. I was silently praying he’d leave soon so I could get my top back.
"Never got the hang of sleeping," he said casually. His feet shifted slightly as he ran a hand through the sexy mess of his hair, fixing a problem spot.
My heart was pounding in my chest. I swallowed to clear a lump that had developed in my throat. "Okay, well . . . if you don’t mind, I’m trying to relax. If you want to talk about counting sheep or something, we can do it later in the day."
He paused for a moment, staring at me with a skeptical look. I kept a firm expression on my face until he eventually shrugged then turned to leave. I watched in anticipation as he got as far as the sundeck entrance, where he stopped.
"You know what," he said, "drinking in the morning does sound like a good idea." He turned back around and walked toward the bar. He inadvertently stepped on my top as he did so, sending a spike of fear through me. He flashed a smirk at me. "I think I’ll join you."
My stomach sank. Goddammit, Jax! He approached a barstool a few feet away from me and plopped his ridiculously nice ass down on it, making himself comfortable while I stared ruefully at the purple fabric like a child who’d dropped a prized possession down a grate. "Jax, I’m kind of busy right now—"
"So am I," he said with a heart-stopping smile as he poured from two bottles of amber liquid into a cocktail glass with ice cubes in it. "What are you drinking?"
"A mimosa," I said through gritted teeth, "since your band doesn’t seem to think good champagne is worth finishing."
He smiled nonchalantly. "Sounds delicious. Mine’s a Godfather. Scotch, amaretto. Brando’s favorite. Want some?" He took a sip of the drink, never taking his dark eyes off me.
"No," I said, barely concealing my irritation then nodded toward the towel cabinet beside him. My voice lightened. "Hey, can you throw me a towel?"
He looked briefly at the stack of towels. "You’ve got arms, grab one yourself." He raised the drink back to his lips and took a leisurely sip.
That asshole!
"Why are you up, anyway?" he asked. "I’m usually the only one awake at this hour."
"Yeah, well, makes sense since you’re a vampire," I snapped, feeling like I was cornered and running out of options. I focused on keeping my eyes away fr
He nodded toward the rising sun with a wry half-smile on his face. "Your theory’s got some holes in it."
"No it doesn’t. Sun or not, you still suck."
His smile widened. "So why aren’t you asleep?" he reiterated, ignoring my barb.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. I sensed that the more I pushed, the more his interest in me grew. "Can’t really get a good night’s sleep on the couch, at least not yet. Combination of my internal clock and the hard seats."
"You could always sleep in my bed," he said so matter-of-factly that he might as well have been saying, you could always get a Diet Coke from the fridge.
"In your dreams," I replied, the memory of the crazy New York concert and Jax’s run from an angry mob still fresh in my mind. "I don’t get in bed with guys who almost get me killed twice in a week."
The wind picked up again, and the bikini top rolled end over end further away. Damn it. Fate was so cruel.
"You’re kidding yourself. I know you liked the danger. After all, you’re the most badass tour accountant I’ve ever met."
"Save the lines for someone else." I rolled my eyes again even though a small part of me was delighted by his compliment. Whatever game Jax was playing, it wasn’t one I wanted in on. Besides, if we played now, I’d be starting with a handicap of one item of clothing and a whole lot of dignity.
Without warning, he set his drink down, stood then walked over to the scrap of purple-and-green cloth. A wave of dread passed over me as he casually bent to pick up the bikini. He looked at it curiously as he dangled it between two fingers.
My eyes widened in horror.
"Did you see this?" he asked, waving the bikini.
Shit shit shit.
I was a wreck of negative emotions. "What?" I spluttered.
He tilted his head to the side for a moment, studying it. "One of the groupies must have left it behind."