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Early the next morning I pull into the parking lot of the discount and grocery store and yawn. After rolling my shoulders, I exit my car and yawn again. I was restless last night and didn’t sleep well. Even after chasing the lingering sensual need with my favorite battery operated buzz toy, Mars’ presence in my mind kept me awake.
I need to figure out why he affects me the way he does. How to counteract those tingling emotions. And definitely how to stay away when everything within me wants to be closer. Shit, why can’t life be easy. I thought I was past all that when I came here. I will not allow another man to distract me.
Before filling my cart with groceries, I wander through the office supply section and pick up a couple plastic clipboards to use for Mars’ shopping lists and meal planning. This will be a great way to keep communications open without being in the same room. Avoidance? Yes, but I need to do what I can to protect my work. And myself.
While I wait in the checkout line—because I try not to use self-checkouts whenever possible—I study the variety of magazines displayed there. I have no interest in the new and improved diet and exercise regimes each cover promises to be the best ever. I’ve come to terms with the shape of my body and try to celebrate it rather than starve myself into someone else’s ideal. Not that attempting that ever worked anyway.
Ready to turn away and unload my cart, a photo on a glossy entertainment magazine catches my attention. Leaning closer, I peer at the oversized headline. Where is Mars Kane hiding?
Mars Kane? I stare at the photo of a concert stage, the singer bending to allow a cluster of screaming fans to touch his hand. His skin glows with…
At the sound of a clearing throat, I glance back at the growing line behind me. “Sorry,” I say to the man with crossed arms and hurry to put my items on the short conveyer belt. At the last minute I toss a copy of the magazine on top of a bunch of bananas.
I have a cooler in my trunk where I stow the refrigerated and frozen items. Then I sit behind the wheel with the magazine to read the article. This is the man I met? The man taking a break from public life? I had no idea.
Oh my god. I’m in lust with a rock star. The absurdity of the notion haunts me the entire drive back to the ranch.
As—bad—luck would have it, Mars approaches my car as I’m getting ready to unload the small haul. He looks different this morning. He’s not wearing those tight, I can see every muscle jeans. I’m not sure whether I’m happy, or a bit disappointed. Not that he doesn’t look damn fine in normal jeans and a chest hugging tee shirt. The breeze tosses his hair to a sexy mess.
But it’s his grin that shakes me to my core. The photos in the magazine show only a posed and wicked twist of his lips. Today his smile is easy and relaxed. “I saw you pulling in. Figured since these are my groceries, I should help get them put away.”
I hadn’t planned on seeing him today and now that I know who he really is, I don’t understand why he’s so… nice. The article certainly didn’t paint him in that light. Their take made him out to be more of a self-important asshole. Someone who abandoned his fans on a whim by disappearing with no warning. The author of the piece made it sound like he’s done this before.
Deep in my gut I sense there must be a good reason for his actions and I long to help.
It’s none of my business. I don’t have time for celebrity histrionics. I would, however, appreciate help carrying in the heavy bags. “Sure,” I finally answer and press my key fob to open the trunk.
Standing with his hands at his hips, Mars stares at the cooler surrounded by numerous bags and shakes his head. “I didn’t order all this, did I?”
“No. I had a list of my own, too. We can sort it out inside.”
“Where do you live?” he asks casually as he gathers a number of bags in each hand and follows me into the kitchen.
Last night I’d waited until half an hour after he left the kitchen to climb the stairs to my apartment. I even kept the lights off in the rooms facing his accommodations. I won’t be able to keep this a secret though. He’ll find out soon enough. “There’s an apartment upstairs.”
“Oh. That’s convenient.”
“It is. I’ll unpack the bags and you can put your stuff where you want it.” I hand him a pair of bags with frozen items. “Put these in the freezer, please. I’ll get my stuff when I go upstairs.”
We work in silence until he notices the magazine and pulls it to his side of the counter to study the cover. Tilting his head, he arches one eyebrow and his nose scrunches just the tiniest, sexiest bit. “So. Checking up on me?”
five
Archer
My question causes an instant reaction, and pink fills Bailey’s cheeks. Her skin is fair and the color travels down her neck and below the edge of her neckline. I resist licking my lips at the tantalizing sight and force myself to remain where I am rather than embracing her to chase the pink and discover how far it covers her full breasts. All the way to her nipples?
Fuck. I’ve got to find out. If not today… soon.
Her golden-brown eyes go wide. “What? No. Of course not. I thought… there’s an article that looks interesting.”
In a gossip rag? I guess. Casually I slip my hand over the headlines that edge one side of Mars’ photo. “Hmm, what about?”
“About? Well, I…” Her gaze darts to the magazine and she frowns. Drumming my fingers against the slick paper, I bite back a grin. Finally she huffs out a breath. “Okay, you caught me. I don’t listen to music much.”
My overly dramatic gasp startles her then I leave Mars behind and ask as myself, “Why not?”
Her shoulders lift in an elegant shrug. “I need to focus on my work. On the wines I’m creating.” Then her brows draw together and pain dims her eyes. “Truthfully, there are things in my past that have music associated with them. Things I’d rather forget.”
