Changing the Key: A Detrimental Rock Star Romance (Book 1) Page 7

  The only time she had been uncomfortable was when Pops had stopped the music to introduce her to the crowd. His booming voice pronounced her the newest member of the crew, and his retelling of her heroism was met with loud cheers and a toast in her honor. Embarrassed by all of the attention, she tried to hide her face behind her hands. Little did she know that his words would assure that she would be accepted and adored by everyone.

  Still, I was restless and more consumed with thoughts of Anna than ever. I had an innate need to take care of the people around me, and every time I thought about what might have happened to her earlier today, my chest constricted and my hands started to sweat. Knowing that I had driven her back to that fucking hotel, putting her in danger, tore a hole in my gut and amplified my regret over treating her so poorly last night. Even though none of us had any way of predicting the turn of events.

  Taking a deep breath, I watched her playfully dunk Lance as I mentally ran through the checklist assuring me that she was safe. I’d gotten there in time. I’d done all I could to protect her and sever her ties with Bryce. I’d provided her employment and a way to get back home. Still, I wasn’t satisfied.

  Anna had accepted my apology but remained guarded around me in a way that she wasn’t with anyone else. It was subtle, but I saw it. And I deserved it. I had grown accustomed to strangers assuming I was an asshole, thanks to my public image, and it had never really bothered me. With Anna, I felt the need to prove myself beyond that persona.

  To complicate things further, my attraction to her had only grown with each passing hour. Without meaning to, I looked over to see her bikini-clad body stepping out of the pool and nearly swallowed my damn tongue. Her tits in that top would be ingrained in my mind forever, but the added visual of her rounded hips and ass, barely covered in fabric, was enough to make my pulse spike. Imagining myself tugging on the string that precariously held her bikini bottom in place, I felt myself growing hard. But, as much as I wanted to act on my impulses, that would have to wait. After everything she had been through today, the last thing she needed was another pervy boss hitting on her.

  Shit. I was her boss. Or at least one of them. Anna would be working for the band, and I didn’t regret that decision except that I now had to reconsider any seduction plans. Since she was a temporary employee, it would probably be best to keep our relationship professional. Right?

  That was going to be a monumental challenge if my ongoing reaction to her was any indication. To redirect my thoughts, I scanned the crowd around me. Drinks and conversation were flowing as music poured out of the house. The moment the first notes of Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” came on, several groups stopped to initiate a raucous singalong, complete with award-worthy air drums and guitar.

  Across the pool deck, Pops reclined in a lounge chair with his foot propped up on a cushion. He was truly revered, as evidenced by the swarm of people making sure he was taken care of. It was a reminder of how incredibly lucky we had been to hire him as our tour manager and the reason we often begged him to never leave us.

  Despite our fame, we remained humble kids from a small town in North Carolina and knew that we were only as strong as those under us. It took a lot of hard work to pull off a successful show night after night, and we respected the hell out of our entire crew. As a result, our reputation for being great employers made us a highly sought-after gig.

  Wrapping herself in a towel, Anna walked back inside the house, making me keenly aware of the fact that my eyes had sought her out again. Who was I kidding? They’d barely left her all night. Yeah, keeping things professional wasn’t going to work. I couldn’t even make it through one night without wanting more of her. But, first and foremost, I needed to gain her trust.

  Anna wasn’t in the kitchen as I grabbed a glass of water or in the great room as I passed through, averting my gaze from the couple making out on the sofa. Instead, I found her coming down the stairs in her dry clothes. Her hair was still wet and she was completely free of any make-up or jewelry. It was her natural beauty that drew me in.

  “Having a good time?”

  Her shy smile hit me in the chest. “Yes. You?” She wrapped her arms around herself as goosebumps covered her skin.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Almost always,” she laughed.

  “How about something hot to drink? I think there’s some coffee made.”

  She scrunched her face in an adorable pucker. “Coffee is strictly a source of caffeine in dire circumstances.”

  I smirked at her declaration, not ready to admit my obsession with flavored creamers. “Okay. Any strong opinions on tea?”

  “Only if it isn’t freshly brewed. Tea should never come from a can or a fountain dispenser.”

  “On that, we can agree one hundred percent.”

  Back in the kitchen, I offered her a selection of tea bags while we waited for the water to heat. Looking them over, she nibbled her lower lip, and I began imagining how her mouth would taste along with the spiciness of the tea she had selected. Luckily, the beeping of the microwave pulled me back. With her mug in hand, I led her back outside to a quiet area by the fire pit. It was farther from the house and lights, allowing the sound of surf crashing along the shore to surround us. With the warm summer air, the fire had been lit more for ambiance, but Anna perched on the edge of a chair and leaned into the heat.

  I sat next to her and couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. “How do you survive winter in Chicago?”

  “Layers,” she said seriously. “All of the layers. And I hibernate as much as possible.” She carefully took a sip of her tea and sighed. “This is perfect. Thank you.” She continued to bite her lip and kept her gaze anywhere but on me.

  Needing to clear the air, and hoping it would make her more comfortable around me, I tried to express myself more clearly than I had done earlier at lunch. “I feel like I owe you more of an apology now that we can speak privately.”

  “No, it’s fine. I promise.” Based on her quick protest and forced smile, she was uncomfortable with the conversation, but I pushed on.

  “Just hear me out. When I saw you at the hospital-”

  “I looked like a homeless criminal. I get it. No explanation necessary.”

  I shook my head in disbelief, realizing how badly I had screwed up our first meeting. “You were beautiful.” Her eyes shot up to lock on mine, the flickering light from the fire just enough to make the blush covering her cheeks visible. “You were an angel and did nothing to deserve the way I treated you. I regret it more than you know and wish we could go back to start over. It bothers me that you think of me as that asshole at the hospital.”

  “I prefer the word jerk.” Her lips were pressed together to hide a smile.

  “I really was a jerk,” I laughed, appreciating that she could make light of the moment. “Seriously, we’re going to be living on a bus together for the next six weeks. I don’t want any awkwardness between us.”

  Anna tilted her head and carefully chose her next words. “First impressions can be tricky. Even though you were a jerk, your heart was in the right place. You were protecting Pops, and I can’t blame you for that.”

  “Kind and beautiful,” I said, making her blush reappear. “I’m truly sorry for assuming the worst of you. Can you forgive me?” I could barely forgive myself and held my breath, worried that she wouldn’t either.

  “I’m not keeping score, but you’ve done more than enough to make up for it. Yes, I forgive you.”

  Hearing the words was a relief, loosening something in my chest. It went far beyond lust and fed hope into my dormant heart. “So we’re good?”

  “Yeah, we’re good.” Her body relaxed, the guarded look in her eyes instantly evaporating.

  I stood, reaching out for her hand to pull her upright. We were chest to chest as the moment stretched out. Anna licked her bottom lip, and I nearly groaned aloud. Instead, I lifted my thumb to follow the path her tongue had made. Her eyes remained locked on mine, f
illed with want. Just as I considered leaning in and gauging her reaction to the idea of me sampling those perfect lips, we were inundated by a swarm of people. Anna stepped back, breaking the connection.

  Various chairs, coolers, and towels were being dragged into the sand and placed around the fire for everyone to sit on while a few of the guys carried acoustic guitars. Though I wanted to pull her back to me, I was content to watch her in the firelight as we all sang and laughed and shared stories about life on the road.

  “There’s a new reality TV series in the works called Cold Hearted. It films people who want to break up with someone but are too soft to do it. Instead, they get a guest celebrity to do their dirty work for them. With your history, it would be perfect for you. What do you think?”

  I watched the DJ and schooled my expression, trying not to give anything away behind my blank stare. What did I think? I thought he was a jackass. I thought it was the most asinine idea for a television show that I’d ever heard. I thought slapping the arrogant smirk off his face would feel especially rewarding. However, I didn’t say or do any of that. Why? Because a shit ton of people depended on me for their livelihood. So, unless I wanted to risk the backlash of my publicist and record label, I followed orders. No matter how much I hated them.

  But it hadn’t always been that way. Our first album had been wildly successful. We had been on top of the world, loving every minute of it. Then when our second album had been in the works, new management had taken over the record label. And everything went south. Worried about the dreaded sophomore slump, the new management had amped up their focus on us. A new publicity strategy was formulated, with Bianca singling me out as the face of the band despite my insistence that we were all equal parts.

  The changes to my image had not stopped there. Bianca had arranged a sappy crossover duet with Krissy Karlisle, a rising country singer. The media quickly speculated about a possible relationship, and our publicists had done everything they could to encourage it. Krissy seemed nice enough, and being part of a celebrity couple had its benefits, so I didn’t put up much resistance.

  We both recognized the PR stunt for what it was and didn’t put too much stock in the relationship. But when we broke up, I was crucified in the media, portrayed as a heartless asshole. Rather than doing damage control, Bianca exploited the bad boy image. It would help album sales, or so she claimed. Management agreed, insisting that our new album include darker, angrier songs to fit the new image. Everything had spiraled so quickly, and before I could try, it was too late to stop it.

  I’d become a fucking puppet.

  But everyone from the catering manager to the sound engineer to the bus driver depended on the band’s success, so I played my part to keep the momentum going. My orders included playing up the bad boy image, going along with all of Bianca’s disgusting schemes, and helping the media fan the flames surrounding my break-up without actually telling them anything. It was a lot of work and caused more misery than it was worth if you asked me. And even though I wanted to believe that they knew best, because that was their job, my gut told me differently. Unfortunately, my gut was overruled by an iron-clad contract, which our lawyer had reviewed thoroughly. Lucky Greene Records owned my ass.

  So I sucked it up and tolerated insolent DJs like Raging Richard, who looked fresh out of college and barely past puberty.

  Utilizing my limited acting skills, I feigned interest.

  “What do I think? I think that the idea has a lot of potential.” Potential to cost the network millions, but whatever. I had become an expert at giving half-assed answers to keep an interview moving forward. Next topic, Dick.

  “Speaking of potential, you haven’t been linked with anyone special since Krissy. What are the chances of finding someone willing to overlook your dating history enough to try and reform the infamous Heartless Hartley?”

  Fuck, I was so sick of this. It had been six months since we’d broken up. Yet the media was still determined to paint Krissy as a victim and me as an evil villain. Of course, all of the information they’d been given supported that, so I couldn’t blame them even if they seemed to get a sick thrill out of it. If they only knew the truth, they would be singing a different tune. But my hands were tied and my lips were sealed.

  Playing the game, I laughed as though the idea was preposterous. “All I can say is that it takes a very special person to be a part of my life.”

  Automatically, I looked up, holding Anna’s gaze. She stood just outside the soundproof booth, though I knew she could hear our interview through the overhead speakers. She and Callie had come along so she could learn her new responsibilities as she accompanied me to all of my publicity shit. And damn if that didn’t make me hate the situation I was in even more.

  While forced to maintain my public image, I had been careful to keep it from ever bleeding into my personal life. There was a dark side to being in the music business, and we had all seen firsthand what the pressures of this industry could do to otherwise healthy, morally sound people. There was no denying the powerful effects of wealth and fame, but I refused to let them completely change me. Which made my encounter with Anna at the hospital that much more alarming.

  Fortunately, Callie and I had prepared Anna during the ride to the radio station so she had known what to expect. Still, I wanted to make Raging Richard take back every awful comment and negative innuendo that had spewed from his mouth since the start of this interview. Part of me was just tired of feeling like a fraud. More importantly, I didn’t want Anna’s opinion of me to be clouded by all of the bullshit PR and lies that had been spread as part of an effort to sell records. Last night, I had finally convinced her that I wasn’t an asshole and regained her trust. Yet, here I was, in all my asshole glory.

  During the trip back to the house, Anna remained quiet. Though there was no judgment, I could practically hear a hundred questions running through her mind. She didn’t ask a single one the whole time we packed up our belongings to check out of the house. A few times, it seemed like she was going to say something but always stopped herself. I didn’t expect her to understand all the ins and outs of my career and the insanity of PR. Hell, half the time, I didn’t understand it either. I just hoped she could see beyond the image. I’m not an asshole, I just play one from time to time.

  She handed me her bag to add to the intricate pile in the back of the van and paused to study my face. “Is it always like that?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “But it’s all an act?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you didn’t ruin that animal shelter’s fundraising event by not showing up?”

  A defeated sigh escaped me as I rubbed a hand over my face. “My grandpa had a massive stroke and wasn’t going to make it. I flew home to say goodbye and to be with my family for the funeral. Technically, I didn’t make it to the fundraiser. The rest of the band went and auctioned off the autographed guitars and VIP packages that we donated. Then we all went back to help build their new kennels the following month.”

  “Seriously? Out of all of that, your publicist chose to manipulate the one detail that would make you look bad?”

  “Yep. That was the only part that fit her agenda.”

  “That makes absolutely no sense,” she mumbled as she shook her head and walked back towards the house.

  “Welcome to my life.”

  Chapter 8

  Anna

  The meet-and-greet with the band passed in a whirlwind of activity. I was so busy helping Callie check passes and streamlining the crowd of adoring fans that I only had a brief moment to dwell on my new reality.

  Jaxon Hartley was a rock star.

  Until that moment, I had only acknowledged the concept of it, but watching him in action took things to a whole new level. With so many people around, it was difficult to see him, but the few times I did, I was in awe. Dressed in skin-tight jeans, a snug black t-shirt, and edgy leather and silver accessories, it took considerable effort for me not to s
tare slack-jawed. And his freshly shaven face, displaying his features in sharper detail, made my palms itch to caress that smooth skin.

  On top of being undeniably attractive, he carried an air of confidence that was sexy as hell. Waiting to take the stage, he greeted passing musicians and crew members alike, calling them by name and adding a manly hug or handshake. Also very sexy. And definitely not asshole behavior.

  I remained off to the side, avoiding the constant flow of roadies and equipment cases. If that happened to give me the perfect vantage point to ogle a particularly gorgeous lead singer while taking in all of the action, so be it. I was still dissecting the many sides of Jaxon to identify what was real and what was fake.

  It was ironic in a way. I was used to dating guys who pretended to be nice and then turned out to be assholes. Jaxon was pretending to be an asshole but was actually a nice guy. Not that we were dating. And I refused to count that almost kiss by the fire as anything more than a moment of lust.

  If I’d noticed Jaxon’s eyes shifting my way when he thought I wasn’t looking, I reminded myself it didn’t mean anything. After all, I had witnessed the endless number of eager women coming on to him throughout the day, and I had no interest in being one of the many. I had learned that lesson. No, I would stay focused on my job and getting home to Chicago.

  The sound of the crowd chanting the band’s name sparked a surge of energy in the guys as they lined up and began making their way onto the darkened stage. Hoping for a decent view, I followed them to the side of the stage. Butterflies filled my stomach and had me wondering if they ever got nervous before a show. When Jaxon was the only one left to go on, he turned to me.

  “Can I get a hug for good luck?” He held his arms open for me to step into, fitting as perfectly as I remembered. I soaked it up, still half-starved for any kind of affection.