C onnor pulled under the hotel awning and stopped behind two other cars waiting to valet park. He cut the engine and sat there for a long moment while they watched the valet tend to the first car in line. She could sense his irritation, which was fine, because it wasn’t like she didn’t have plenty of her own. Finally he looked over at her. “What the hell was all that about tonight?” Her eyelids narrowed to slits as she glared over at him. “You don’t think you did anything wrong in this scenario?” “So I piss you off and you find that sufficient reason to hot-wire a car, get arrested and be hauled off to jail?” She crossed her arms and huffed. “I was not arrested. I was specifically looking for a cop. It’s not my fault he overreacted and thought I was some lunatic off her meds.” “I can’t imagine why he’d think something like that.” “Cut the sarcasm. It makes you sound like an even bigger asshole,” she muttered. He sighed. “Do you always react this strongly about everything? I mean, most people would have just called me a dickhead and been done with it. Not many people would hot-wire a car, then flag down a cop and try to convince them you’re off your fucking rocker.” She glared at him again. “I was being smart. I didn’t want to be driving around alone and I damn sure didn’t want to come back to the hotel by myself. I mean, what if the demented dude was waiting for me in my room?” He looked like he wanted to beat his head against the steering wheel. Luckily the valet walked up and Connor opened his door to collect the ticket. Lyric got out and forced herself to wait for Connor. Whatever he might think, she really didn’t want to go back up to her room alone. She didn’t want to stay alone, for that matter, but neither did she want him in such close proximity for the entire night. She was fucked either way and she was resigned to spending another sleepless night. She would be a freaking zombie by tomorrow. Connor put his hand to her back and herded her toward the door. All the way to her room, he was silent. His glower spoke volumes, and to be honest, she was happy he wasn’t talking. He’d just gripe at her some more. That deference thing she was used to would certainly come in handy right now. Unfortunately she imagined he’d cut his own nuts off before ever deferring to her. He made her remain to the side in the hallway while he opened the door and took a look inside. Satisfied that no one was going to jump out of the closet at them, he motioned her in and then shut and bolted the door behind them. She made her way to the bed and flopped indelicately onto the mattress. The message light was blinking on her phone and she frowned, wondering who even knew she was here. Phillip did. But she didn’t think she’d even let her band or crew know where she was staying yet. She leaned over, picked up the receiver and punched the button marked messages. Exhausted from the day’s events and no sleep in longer than she could remember, she flopped back onto a pillow and closed her eyes as she waited for the recording to start. “You can’t hide from me, Lyric. Your pathetic little bodyguard can’t protect you.” She bolted straight up, not believing what she’d heard. Her hands shaking, she punched at a series of buttons to replay the message but was so upset she botched it. “What the hell is wrong?” Connor demanded. He snatched the phone from her hands and put it to his ear. “There’s nothing here. What upset you?” “The message,” she stammered out. “Replay the message. I didn’t erase it. It should still be there.” He frowned and depressed the button to cut the connection and then he punched the message button again. After a moment, his expression grew stormy and his eyes went so cold she shivered. He replayed the message several times before finally replacing the receiver. He put his hand down to gently push her leg over so he could sit on the edge of the bed. “Are you all right?” She nodded but she wasn’t really. She knew she had some creep sending her weird notes, but her record label had kept her in the dark and she had only Connor’s word to go on. Not that she doubted him—she had no problem believing him at all. It was why she had been so determined not to go anywhere alone. But now that she’d heard the threat, it was much more real. It shocked her to her core. “Lyric, look at me.” The command snapped her gaze to him. “This is why I’m so pissed that you took off without me,” he said, a distinct edge to his voice. “Now will you take this seriously?” She frowned, upset and shaken by the threat but just as upset over his assumption that she didn’t take this very seriously. But she was too tired to defend herself. Too tired to argue with his ironclad opinion of her. It wasn’t as if she’d change it. She nodded wearily, too tired to say the words. There was no way she’d keep the bitterness out of her voice anyway. It was better to just shut up and take the path of least resistance. For once. “It’s been a long day. It’ll be another long day tomorrow. You should get some sleep,” he said. “I need to check with the hotel to see if we can get a trace.” As if that was going to happen. Still, she wouldn’t mind getting comfortable and laying her head on her pillow. Without a word, she got up, rummaged around in a still-packed suitcase until she found a pair of cotton pajamas and then headed for the bathroom. Her pajamas were her comfort item. Much like a security blanket or a special stuffed animal. They were old and probably had holes, but they were soft and comfortable and they made her feel safe. Connor would probably laugh, and she’d be lucky if he didn’t sneak photos to send to the tabloids. What a blow to her image if she were photographed in pajamas with faded smiley faces on them. When she came out of the bathroom, she blinked in surprise to see Connor shirtless on one side of the bed. He wore a pair of sweat pants—thank goodness—because she couldn’t handle seeing him in nothing but his underwear, although it did bring up the tantalizing question of whether he wore briefs or boxers. Or... boxer briefs. She’d bet money he was a boxer brief kind of guy. Or maybe she just really liked the image of him in tight cotton, butt-molding briefs that hugged those muscular upper legs. Mmmmm. Okay, she had to stop because this was just ridiculous. She trudged to her side of the bed, pleased to see that he’d already erected a barrier between them using cushions from the sofa. She wouldn’t have to forfeit any of her pillows to the cause. He watched her as she pulled back the covers. She could feel his gaze resting on her, but she refused to look up. She crawled onto the mattress and turned her back to him as she pulled the comforter up over her shoulders. There was a pregnant silence and then, “Good night, Lyric,” he murmured. She heard the click of the lamp and the room was plunged into darkness. Only a thin beam of light from the street squeezed through a tiny gap in the room darkening curtains. Her heart thumped in her throat and she lay there so wound up and tense that her muscles ached. She hated this. Hated that being so close to Connor—in the same bed—made her so nervous she wanted to puke. She forced her breathing to even out because even she could hear it stuttering past her lips. She gripped the covers protectively around her and huddled there, staring at the opposite wall. She was never going to sleep. “Connor?” There was a brief pause. “Yeah?” She gripped the covers a little tighter until her fingers went numb. “Why do you hate me so much?” There was an uncomfortable pause. Then she felt him turn toward her on his side. She lay still, her fingers wrapped tightly around the sheet she held to her chin. “I don’t hate you, Lyric.” “You decided before you ever met me that you despised me. Nothing I do or say is going to change that.” He sighed. “You didn’t exactly help your case when we met.” “You looked at me like I was scum. No one is going to react well to that kind of judgment.” “I don’t hate you,” he said again. “You don’t like me either,” she said softly. “I was a jerk tonight. I’ll be honest. I didn’t want this job. And you’re right. I had my mind made up about you before we ever met. That wasn’t... fair.” “You’re wrong, you know.” “About what?” “I do take this seriously.” Connor shifted again, and the next thing she knew, light flooded the room as he switched the lamp back on. She glanced over her shoulder to see him sit up in bed. “Turn over so we can talk,” he said quietly. She rolled and clutched one of the cushions between them to her chest. “You need to consider the possibility that someone close to you is involved in this.” She frowned. “But no one knows I’m here. I gave my band and my crew two weeks off. I was careful, Connor. I know you don’t think I was.” “What about Paul? And your two... bodyguards?” At least he hadn’t called them her fuck-buddies again. She sighed. Her head hurt. She wasn’t sure she’d ever gotten rid of the headache she’d had earlier. “Lyric?” “I think Paul knew too,” she said wearily. “And Trent and R.J. too. Don’t say it. I already feel like an idiot. But no one else knows. Or rather I didn’t tell anyone.” “And you think the cops you introduced yourself to will keep your cover?” She flushed and hugged the pillow a little tighter. “I was angry. You humiliated me.” “Do you always react so outrageously when someone pisses you off?” “Do you always allow people to get under your skin so badly?” “Touché. So we’ve both reacted badly. I’m more at fault than you. This is a job. I’m supposed to be a professional. No matter how much you irritate me, it’s my job to keep cool and protect you.” She glanced up, watching the soft glow of the lamp slide over his muscled shoulders. He had a great chest. He was a tall man. Lean but tightly muscled. Not in a bulging Neanderthal way, nor did he look like he worked out a bazillion times a week. But his body was tight and there wasn’t a spare ounce of flesh anywhere on his waist. He had a great jaw. Firm and determined. Already he had a shadow of a beard that only made him look sexy in a scruffy, totally male way. He wasn’t pretty and polished. He had a quiet arrogance that suggested he was comfortable in his skin and didn’t much give a damn what others thought. He wasn’t impressed by celebrity. He thought she was a spoiled jerk. He was right, but it still bothered her. “Do I irritate you that much?” He cracked a grin and glanced over at her. “Yeah. You do.” The acknowledgment was more of a dry laugh at himself and the smile took the sting out of his words. “We’re going to work this out,” he said. “Tomorrow I’m meeting with the firm your label hired. You’ll be surrounded by security at all times and I’m going to stick to you like glue for the next two weeks. If someone wants you, they’ll have to go through me.” She took great comfort from the vow. It didn’t come across as a boast. There was complete and utter confidence in his voice, and his eyes sparked with determination. She bit her lips and met his gaze again. “I know I’m not... easy.” “No, you’re definitely not easy,” he said in a lazy voice. “But I can handle difficult.” He reached over to touch her hair. It was a simple brush. He didn’t even make contact with her skin, but an electric sensation snaked all the way through her body. “You should get some rest,” he said. “You’re exhausted and you’ve had a headache all day.” She grimaced. “I won’t sleep.” One of his eyebrows went up in question. “Why not?” She looked away and clutched the covers to her chin again. “Lyric?” His voice gentled and there was a soothing lilt to the way he said her name. “You make me nervous. It’s not just you,” she rushed to say. “It could be anyone. I don’t like having someone so... close.” When she peeked up to gauge his reaction, his brow was furrowed. “It’s my understanding you always have people around you. That you’re never alone. I’d think if that was the case, you’d be glad to have me here with you so you aren’t alone.” “I don’t like being alone,” she admitted. “You’re making no sense.” She sighed and turned onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “If I have a choice between alone and being alone with one other person, I choose alone, no matter how uncomfortable it makes me.” She could feel his stare burning over her skin, like he was trying to peel back the layers even further and see her darkest secrets. To her surprise he sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. She watched from the corner of her eye as he reached for the hotel directory on the nightstand. He rotated back around and began flipping through the pages. “Well, if we’re going to be up all night, I’m going to order room service. I’m starving.” She wrinkled her nose. “But you ate a huge supper. I mean, it looked like it was the entire cow. Or pig. Whatever we ate.” “I’m a growing boy. Need food.” “You’re really going to stay up just because I can’t sleep?” He glanced over at her. “Yeah, sure.” He held up the menu. “You want something?” She slowly sat up and arranged one of the cushions behind her so she was propped against the headboard. Then she smiled. “Yeah. I could eat.” CHAPTER 12
“ H ey,” Connor said softly. His voice was a tickle in her ear and she scrunched up her nose in her sleep and batted at the offending sensation. A husky chuckle blew a strand of her hair over her cheek. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We have things to do today and Damon Roche is sending a driver to collect you in an hour. I thought you’d want to take a shower and put on something killer before he arrives.” She cracked one eye open and stared at Connor’s face just inches from her own. For a moment she was confused and then realization pushed aside the veil of sleep. “I slept,” she said in wonder. Connor nodded. “Yeah, you did. You crashed around five.” “What time is it now?” “Eight. I would have let you sleep longer, but I’ve got to get your security squared away today and then we have to move you.” “Okay.” He eased back and she struggled to push herself up, her brain clouded and fuzzy. She blinked to try to clear the cobwebs and for a moment she simply stared around the room, amazed that she’d fallen asleep with him next to her in bed. Maybe her exhaustion had finally caught up to her and she’d simply passed out. Even more surprising was the fact that she really wanted to lie back down and sleep for several more hours. She should be jumping at the opportunity to surround herself with people for the day. Being on her own and with Connor had been a strain, and she was starting to show signs of cracking. She rubbed at her face and then glanced over at Connor, who was sitting at the end of the bed watching her. “Are you done in the bathroom?” He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve already showered. It’s all yours.” “Good. I’ll need a bit to get ready.” She threw the covers aside and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Damn, but she was tired. As she trudged toward the bathroom, Connor said, “You want breakfast? I was going to order room service. I’d rather you not go down and eat. More chance of you being recognized.” She covered a yawn and nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.” “Eggs? Bacon? Pancakes? What’s your poison?” “Yes, yes and yes.” He laughed. “Okay, I’ll order everything they have. It’ll look like a buffet because I’m starved.” She shook her head in amazement. “You put away a lot of food just a few hours ago. How can you possibly be starving again?” He ignored her and picked up the phone. Fifteen minutes later, she stepped out of the shower feeling somewhat revived, and after drying herself, she put her hair up in a towel, pulled on one of the big, fluffy robes the hotel provided and padded back into the room to figure out what to wear. She was back in the bathroom drying her hair and fluffing it out when Connor hollered that the food had arrived. She didn’t have makeup on yet, but she was tempted to go au naturel. She didn’t often go without full treatment, hair, nails, outfit and makeup because she literally never knew when and where she might be photographed. Today she just wanted to be... normal. Unrecognized. Anonymous—and not only because she had some lunatic freaking her out. Okay, so that was the biggest reason, but the other was simply she was looking forward to being around people she could actually be herself with. She walked back into the hotel room to see Connor putting a dent in the array of food arranged on the serving cart. If she wanted to eat, she needed to wade in and rescue something before he ate it all. “Do you always eat so much?” she asked once she was cross-legged on the bed, her plate in front of her. He frowned and stopped chewing for a minute. “I haven’t eaten much in the last couple of days. Been too busy with you.” Her eyes widened. If he considered what he’d eaten “not much,” she’d hate to see what he considered a normal appetite. “I bet you ran your parents ragged trying to keep you fed. You probably ate them out of house and home.” He grinned. “Pop may have complained a time or two.” Her gaze roved up and down his lean, muscled body and she shook her head. “I don’t know where you put it. I think I hate you.” “I work out,” he defended. “Not like all I do is sit around and eat.” She snorted. “Yeah, I bet you work out like once a week. It’s obvious you’re one of these people blessed with good genes.” “And what about you? You aren’t exactly a delicate miss when it comes to eating and what are you, a size two?” She nearly choked on her food. Maybe this guy didn’t have as much experience with women as she thought. “I’m a twelve. Sometimes a ten. I’ve been as high as a fourteen. No, nothing huge but not bone-thin either. I have to work hard to keep it under a ten. When I’m on tour I keep my weight down because performing almost every night keeps me fit. But when I’m not on tour and writing songs or in the recording studio, I gain weight just looking at food. I have to have a strict exercise regimen to keep it under control.” He frowned. “I think you’re pretty damn perfect as you are. You don’t need to be any thinner.” Then again, maybe he had plenty experience with women, because he sure knew what to say. “I’m straining the waists of my size twelves right now,” she admitted. “I’m at the end of my tour and the shows are further apart and I’ve been stress-eating. Not the best habit in the world, but there you have it. I have a weakness for salty and sweet. Carbs. I love carbs.” His eyes narrowed and she could feel his gaze examining her. His frown grew fiercer as he met her eyes. “You look just fine like you are.” Warm pleasure bathed her cheeks until she was sure she glowed. In her world she was never perfect. She had fitness trainers telling her she needed to shed pounds. Her manager telling her what she could or couldn’t eat. Even her stylist waded in with her opinion and clucked at Lyric whenever her outfits got too tight. And yet Connor was positively glowering at the idea that she needed to lose weight. She beamed at him and polished off her breakfast, then chugged down an entire glass of orange juice. She nearly groaned with pleasure. She loved juices but had been forbidden to drink pretty much anything but water. “Better?” Connor asked when she pushed her plate away. “Yum. That was fantastic.” He checked his watch. “You have a few minutes. Micah and the driver are coming up for you. I don’t want you standing around in the lobby where you’re visible while you wait.” “Okay. I need to brush my teeth.” She bounced off the bed feeling better than she had in days despite the fact she hadn’t caught up on her sleep. She brushed out her hair one more time and left it loose. Then she cleaned her teeth, gargled with mouthwash and checked her appearance in the mirror. She wouldn’t stop traffic but she didn’t look all bad. And there was a lightness to her eyes she hadn’t noticed in a long time. She smiled back at her reflection, decided she’d survive being seen without makeup again and then left the bathroom. Connor was on the phone. He turned and held a finger up to Lyric and then said, “I’ll have her right down.” She raised an eyebrow as he shoved his cell phone back into his pocket. “I thought they were coming up?” “Sam is parked at the side employee entrance. We’re going to go out that way. You won’t even be outside a second.” “And you?” “I’m going to my office to meet with the security team your label hired. I want to make damn sure they’re competent enough to do the job. I’ll come get you when I’m done. In the meantime, I’m having a few guys come in and clear out your hotel room, so if there’s anything you need, get it now.” She scooped up her purse, looked to make sure her wallet, sunglasses and phone were still in it and then slung it over her shoulder. “I’m ready.” Five minutes later, Connor rushed her into the back of a Bentley and she blinked at the sumptuous leather and the obvious expense of the luxury car. She was a freaking rock star and she didn’t get to ride around in vehicles like these. Any wannabe could hitch a ride in a limo, but these wheels cost some serious cash. The driver was a broad-shouldered boulder of a man who filled the driver’s seat. The steering wheel looked small in his hands, like it would break off if he turned it too hard. He flicked a glance at her in the rearview mirror but his eyes were covered with dark shades, and his bald head gleamed like he’d just shaved it that morning. Micah Hudson slid into the backseat next to her and Connor slammed her door. The driver roared off down the side street and pulled into traffic. “Everything all right?” Micah asked conversationally. She eyed him warily, not comfortable with the fact that it was he and not Connor who was riding with her. “Where is Angelina?” Micah’s eyes narrowed. “No way I’d let her come along. I don’t want her anywhere near potential trouble.” Lyric shrugged. Like she wanted to be near “potential trouble” either? A half hour later they drove through the entrance of a sprawling estate. She glanced back to see the heavy security gate swing closed behind them. To her further surprise she caught a glimpse of a big dude who looked suspiciously like he was carrying an automatic rifle. Holy hell, was she at some compound for a crazy cult? They pulled around the circle drive and parked directly in front of the palatial house. Micah got out and the driver opened her door and hovered protectively over her as he escorted her the few steps to the entrance. Okay, she liked safety as much as the next person, but this seemed a little... overdone. It wasn’t as if she was rolling up to a concert and had thousands of fans all pushing to get a glimpse or a piece of her. There was... no one. The grounds were so quiet that she could hear birds chirping. She was ushered inside the McMansion and the driver took her into the living room where she saw women sprawled all over the furniture. Lyric relaxed and smiled. She recognized Faith, Julie and, of course, Angelina right away, but there was another woman, long and sleek and so freaking beautiful that she made Lyric take a step back and curse the fact she hadn’t worn makeup. She was tempted to pull the shades over her eyes, not that it would hide the fact she wasn’t even wearing concealer. To cover up her nervousness, she spread her hands out, palms up, and announced, “I’m here!” The women turned and Faith shot up from the couch and hurried over to give Lyric a hug. Which was kind of weird but at the same time gave her an honest-to-God warm fuzzy. Lyric was a little shell-shocked as Faith dragged her over to the others. “You’ve met Julie and Angelina, of course, but you haven’t met Serena Roche yet.” Tall and elegant, Serena rose from the couch, her long black hair swinging like silk down her back. Lyric couldn’t help but stare. The woman had such an exotic beauty and startling blue eyes to contrast the midnight hair. She extended her hand and for a moment Lyric just stared at it—and the glittering, huge-ass diamond ring that adorned her third finger. “I’m so glad to meet you, Lyric.” “Likewise.” A tall, extremely handsome man walked into the living room, and when his gaze rested on Serena, he lit up. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out this was her husband, Damon Roche. He had that rich GQ look. Polished, arrogant and extremely confident. He came up to stand beside Serena, his hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. “Ms. Jones,” he said smoothly. “Welcome to our home. Serena and I are happy to have you.” “Thank you. I’m sorry to be a bother.” “You’re no bother. Micah tells me you’ve had some trouble. I can assure you that while you are here, nothing will bother you.” Strangely enough, she absolutely believed him. He didn’t strike her as a man who made empty boasts. He was too damn self-assured. “Can I offer you refreshment, Ms. Jones?” Damon asked. Remembering just how much she’d eaten at breakfast, she shook her head. “Come sit,” Faith urged. “We have a complete girly day planned. Julie’s even going to give us massages later.” “I want to know who the hell’s going to give me a massage,” Julie grumbled. “Oh, hush. You know Nathan will be more than happy to give you one later,” Serena said impishly. “Not that girly fun isn’t high on my list of priorities, but us menfolk are going to excuse ourselves,” Damon said dryly. He drew Serena to him and kissed her forehead. There was such a look of possession in his eyes that Lyric shivered. Did every one of these women have a man who absolutely adored her? Lyric had never wanted to stab anyone more in her life. And now she had to spend an afternoon with them, and they’d probably go on and on and on about how wonderful their husbands or significant others or whatever the hell they called them were. Damon and Micah departed, talking among themselves, but the driver remained conspicuously behind, taking position in the doorway to the living room. The women retook their positions and Lyric plopped on the couch next to Angelina, who had her feet curled beneath her and was propped against a pillow. “When are you due?” Lyric asked as she glanced down at Angelina’s belly. Angelina grimaced. “I still have three months if you can believe it. I swear I’m ready to burst now.” Lyric’s eyes widened. Maybe it was because Angelina was so petite but she looked like she’d swallowed enough helium to float a hot-air balloon. “So tell us what’s going on with this freak who’s stalking you, Lyric,” Julie said. Lyric sighed. “Well, since my record label didn’t see fit to tell me anything and Connor just informed me day before yesterday, I don’t know a whole lot. Apparently he’s been sending me creepy notes and putting them in places he shouldn’t have access to. Then yesterday he called and left a message on my hotel phone.” “So what is Connor going to do?” Faith asked anxiously. Lyric shrugged. “He’s meeting with whatever security firm my label hired, which is why I’m here. Makes more sense for me to be there, but I think Connor is afraid I’ll throw some tantrum.” Julie eyed her with a glimmer of humor in her eyes. “Would you?” “Maybe. Depends on what they had to say. Or how brainless they thought I was. And I don’t throw tantrums. I just voice my displeasure in a loud manner.” Serena and Angelina laughed. And then Serena leaned forward. “I have to admit you look a lot different than I expected. Damon and I saw one of your shows in Vegas. You were so flashy and glamorous.” Lyric winced and Serena put her hand to her mouth. “Not that you aren’t now. Oh hell. I’ll shut up now.” Lyric laughed. “I don’t usually go anywhere without full makeup and wardrobe, but Connor seems to think the lower profile I am, the better. I haven’t even colored my hair since my last show. The first time Connor met me, I had pink hair. I don’t think he was impressed.” Faith snickered and Julie rolled her eyes. “That’s because Connor has a stick up his ass,” Julie retorted. “Julie, he does not,” Faith defended. “You’re always accusing him of being uptight.” “Pretty good assessment, I’d say,” Lyric muttered. “He’s a total sweetheart,” Angelina said. Lyric rolled her eyes. “Oh sure, sweetie.” The other women burst into laughter. “She totally has you there,” Serena snickered. “You know, I could do your hair,” Julie said thoughtfully. “Ice blue would look awesome with all that black hair. If you don’t want to be too noticeable, we could just do the tips.” “Really?” Lyric asked. “She’s a terrific stylist,” Faith said in a proud voice. “She owns her own business. She does hair, nails, massages.” Serena nodded. “Yeah, she’s our Jill—or Julie—of all trades.” “Connor would have a kitten if I left here. Maybe we could work it out one day when you’re free,” Lyric said. Julie grinned. “Oh, we could send Sam out for what I need and we could do it here. One of you might have to forfeit a massage, but it could totally be done.” Lyric twirled the ends of a thick strand and pulled it up to look, imagining how it would look dyed blue. She shrugged. “Hell, I’ll try anything once.” “Oh, I like her,” Angelina said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You would,” Serena said. “She’s our resident wild child,” she explained to Lyric. Lyric’s brows went up. Sweet, angelic-looking Angelina? Beneath Angelina’s dusky skin, color bloomed and she ducked her head. “Boy, that was a guilty look of acknowledgment if I ever saw one,” Lyric said. “I guess it’s true what they say. It’s the innocent-looking ones you have to watch out for.” “Oh yes,” Julie chimed in. “Faith being a very close second in the heathen department.” “Julie! Hush!” Faith had turned bright red as a flush crept all the way up her throat and into her cheeks. “I’m starting to feel frighteningly boring and normal,” Lyric said in bemusement. “I assure you that never happens. I’m usually the one people are looking at like I just lit my hair on fire.” “If we’re going to do hair and whatever else we get inspiration for, I say we need wine,” Serena spoke up. “Oh, I don’t drink,” Lyric was quick to say. “What?” Julie scowled. “How can you be such a famous diva and not drink? Haven’t you ever gotten drunk and been arrested for indecent exposure or something?” Lyric smirked. “Depends on which tabloid you read.” “Seriously? You don’t drink?” Faith asked. “Today you do,” Serena said as she turned and motioned for the driver. “Sam, can you bring us a few bottles of wine? Ask Damon for a suggestion. He’ll pick something good.” As Sam departed, Serena turned and shrugged. “I’m pretty wine stupid. I mean, I love it, but know nothing about it. Damon, on the other hand, knows what wine you’re supposed to have with what food and what occasions, et cetera.” “He does serve good wine,” Faith agreed. “I’m not happy with any of you,” Angelina pouted. “I can’t have any wine, which means you all will have all the fun while I’m sitting here as big as a house.” “I’ll make sure you get the first massage,” Julie soothed. Two hours and six wine bottles later, Lyric couldn’t remember what her aversion to alcohol was. The wine was good. The world was good. The company was good. Everything was good. And the room was spinning like a merry-go-round from hell. She was sitting dutifully still as Julie worked on her hair. “How much has she had to drink?” Lyric asked, gesturing over her shoulder to Julie. Julie reached over Lyric’s shoulder and plucked a half-full wineglass and drained it. She set it back down with a thump. “Not nearly enough.” “I’m watching her. She hasn’t had so much that it would impair her hair-doing skills,” Serena said in a solemn voice. Faith giggled. “Hair doing?” “Well, what else do you call it?” Serena asked in exasperation. “You look like an alien with all the aluminum foil, Lyric. Very impressive.” Lyric smothered her laughter. Of any of them, Serena had drunk the most, and the girl was flying high. Although Lyric had to be close behind her because Serena kept filling her glass. And then the wine disappeared. It was the damnedest thing. “I’m done here,” Julie announced. “Well, for the next twenty anyway. Then we’ll rinse you and dry you and voila, you’ll be Smurftastic.” Angelina shot Julie a baleful look. “Smurftastic?” “Yeah, you know, the Smurfs. Little blue people? Smurfette? Get it?” Angelina’s expression was blank. “You’re too young,” Julie grumbled. “And clearly your education is lacking.” “Smurfette was hot,” Lyric said gravely. Faith nodded. “Agreed. Maybe we should all get our hair blue.” “Oh, that would be fun!” Serena exclaimed. “It would be worth it to see the looks on the guys’ faces. How long does the color last, Julie?” Julie scowled. “Like I want Damon kicking my ass?” Serena waved in Julie’s direction like she was an annoying insect. “Come on. We could do it in support of Lyric. Our sister from another mother.” “Just how much have you had to drink, Serena?” Julie asked. Serena paused to pour another glass and tipped it in the direction of the other women. “Not nearly enough!” “I’ll do it,” Faith said slowly. “Would blue tips look good on blond?” Julie arched an eyebrow in Faith’s direction. “Are you serious?” “Yeah. It could be fun. We could be like Lyric’s fan club, and if Connor tries to give her shit, we could beat the crap out of him.” “Weren’t you the good sister defending him a while ago?” Angelina asked, her eyes dancing with merriment. “Just because I don’t think he has a stick up his ass doesn’t mean he can’t be a typical mule-headed male. Oh, I know! We could even get tickets to go see Lyric at the rodeo. We’ll be all in the know since we’d have hair just like hers.” “Her concert is sold out,” Julie pointed out. “Oh I could get you guys tickets if you really wanted to come,” Lyric said and then promptly hiccupped. Then she giggled. Then everyone started laughing. Lyric hiccupped some more and the room dissolved into fits of laughter. Why hiccups were so funny, Lyric wasn’t sure, but the more she hiccupped, the more she laughed. “Okay, well, if we’re going to get this done, I need to get you girls started pronto. Otherwise Damon and Micah are going to come lurking to be nosy and then we’ll be busted. You in, Angelina?” Julie asked, looking over at her. Angelina grinned. “Yeah. I think it will be fun.” CHAPTER 13
