“This can’t be where the party is.” As she turned to go back, she came across a room with the blinds pulled down, covering the windows, but she still didn’t hear any music. “Maybe it’s one of those soundproof rooms,” she said as she opened the door and stepped inside the dim space.
Immediately, she knew she was in the wrong place. There was no raging party. In fact, it was another empty room.
“I shouldn’t have eaten my packet of chips. I could have used them as a trail to find my way out of this maze. Now I’ll get so lost I’ll never find my way out, and then someone will find my bones in an old janitor’s cupboard,” she mumbled as she turned to leave.
“Is there room in that cupboard for two?”
With a gasp, Jade spun around and came face-to-face with trouble.
* * * *
Nathan Harvey dropped heavily onto an old, leather lounge in a dark office he’d stumbled into. Far enough away from the party his band was having. He blew out a long breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. Why after every show did they need to party like they were still twenty-one-year-old kids? For Nathan, the shine had worn off years ago.
In fact, he never liked the backstage scene. It wasn’t like he could get involved in the party. He didn’t drink excessively or do drugs, not that he allowed anything illegal at them, and he couldn’t get close to anyone they invited to join them in case they discovered his secret. Eventually he learned it was easier to hide in an empty room to get away from it all. But lately not even playing music—what he loved to do most in the world—was worth the isolation. Touring became a lonely gig.
With jerky movements, he shrugged off his leather jacket and threw it on the floor. How much longer could he keep going, pretending to be someone else?
Music is in your blood, just like it’s in mine. Promise me you’ll never let it die. Whenever the urge to quit clouded his thoughts, his father’s words blew them away.
Tonight was the last show for their Australian leg of the tour and the start of a much-needed break in his hometown for a few weeks before they headed to Europe and played more sold-out shows. Nathan often wondered if his dad could see how far he’d come, would he be proud? He’d never know. But deep down, he hoped so, because he was the reason Nathan played in a heavy rock band. Did that little boy who once yearned for his father’s approval think he’d get it now in some freakish spiritual way?
A noise from across the office stopped his musings, and a petite redhead stumbled into the room. Man, how did these women find him? He made sure no one spotted him leaving the party.
He was about to ask her to leave when she mumbled something about chips and a janitor’s cupboard, and instead of getting rid of her, he rose from the chair and asked if there was room in that cupboard for two. Because for a moment hiding away with a cute redhead sounded more appealing than being alone.
The light shining from the hallway into the open doorway showed curls from a messy hairstyle bouncing around a creamy, smooth face clear of makeup. She had sparkling blue eyes, and a dusting of freckles spread along her nose and cheeks. Not the typical groupie with skin-tight clothing and a made-up face. He liked the simplicity of this woman, and he couldn’t deny she was cute, but a groupie was a groupie, and Nathan didn’t indulge in them. So why did looking at her blast a surge of heat through his body?
“It’s you…the singer guy.” Her eyes grew wide, and her breath got a little choppy.
And suddenly, the heat disappeared, and a chill blanketed over him. There were different types of groupies. The ones who acted surprised when they accidentally ran into him. And the ones who brazenly told him exactly what they wanted to do with him. She fell into the first category.
“Don’t act so shocked you found me. I should have known I couldn’t sneak out undetected.” He turned away to dismiss her.
“Found you? No, I was looking for the party—”
He swung back around. “Look, Freckles.” She gasped at the reference and covered her nose with her hand. “No offense, but I’m not into groupies. If you go back to the party, I’m sure Mike or Chris will be happy to take you on.”
The hand covering her nose dropped, and she frowned. “Take me on? You think I want… I want…”
Some women tried to deny it, but they were always after the same thing. A hook-up with a band member. “If you go back down the hall and take the other timber door, you’ll find the party.”
Her posture stiffened, and she puffed out her chest. It wasn’t Playboy magazine worthy, but with it heaving like she’d run a marathon, it drew his attention, and the heat worked its way back.
“For your information, Mr. Grunge Band on Steroids, I got separated from my cousin, and I’m trying to find her. I’m not a groupie looking for who knows what with Mike or Chris, nor am I interested in you. And I spend a lot of money on creams to lighten my freckles, so how dare you point them out!”
Nathan let out a surprised bark of laughter. This woman was as fiery as her red hair. He ambled closer to the little spitfire. She’d caught his attention, and if she meant what she said, he’d have no chance getting anything from her. Time for the test.
“I happen to think your freckles are sexy.” When he took another step closer, her cheeks flushed pink and she sucked in a breath. He fingered a loose curl on her neck, making sure he touched the exposed skin. “Maybe I won’t send you to Mike or Chris. I’ve never had a hot redhead before.” He cupped her face and pretended to lean in as if to kiss her. She’d soon show her true colors.
But instead of her claiming his kiss, one of her hands slammed a palm onto his forehead and the other wrapped around the wrist touching her hair. “What the hell are you doing?”
For a moment he was stunned. This woman who was small enough to fit in his pocket held him back like she was double his size. “Honey, you’re playing the shy fan a little too seriously.”
“I told you, I’m not here for any groupie gangbang. I’m looking for my cousin!” she said, and flung her hand away from his head. Some strands of hair got caught in a ring on her finger, and the wig he was wearing went flying from his head and hung from her hand like a dead, black cat.
With wide eyes, the woman looked from her hand to his head and back down to the wig. “Ummm, I think this belongs to you?”
Slowly, she held it out, and he snatched it from her grasp. It was still tangled around her fingers, and the force made her stumble into his chest. She clasped his arms to steady herself. After a beat she rubbed her hands along his arms. Not in a flirty, trying to feel him up kind of way. More like trying to figure out why he felt like stocking mesh instead of smooth skin.