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  “It’s the costume.” She ran a hand down the velvet stays of her black lace corset. “The makeup.” She drew a fingertip along her fair cheek. “The wig.” She tugged at a strand of crimson hair. “If you met the real me, you wouldn’t be beguiled in the least. You probably wouldn’t even notice I exist.”

  “Only one way to find out,” he said, wanting, needing, to see her without the makeup and costume. There was absolutely no fucking way he wouldn’t notice she existed. He was uncomfortably aware of her every expression, every move, every breath.

  Roux straightened, which made her tits look fantastic in that corset, but for once he wasn’t stupid enough to let the compliment fly.

  The fire in her gaze as she narrowed her eyes lit a corresponding one in him.

  “Mr. Aimes, if you’re suggesting I strip—”

  “You can change in the bathroom. I won’t peek. Lose the wig. The makeup. You can throw on some street clothes if you like or wear nothing at all. I would like to see you naked. Can’t deny that fact.”

  Her jaw hardened, but it was because she was trying to suppress a smile, not because she looked angry. “All right, but only to prove you wrong.”

  “Then we’re having second dinner,” he said. In his hotel suite. But he’d give her that detail after he proved her wrong. “What do you like to eat?”

  “I’m a vegetarian,” she said. “So no meat.”

  He had some meat she was sure to enjoy, but again, he withheld his inappropriate comment. “Strict vegan or lacto-ovo?” he asked, but not because he wanted to impress her with his SoCal knowledge of the different forms of vegetarianism. Unless it worked. Then that was totally what he was doing.

  “I eat the occasional egg, and I love cheese and yogurt. I just avoid meat. All meat.”

  Well, that didn’t bode well for the meat in his pants.

  “Will you hurl if I eat a steak in front of you?” He’d once gone to dinner with a staunch vegan who’d done exactly that. She also tried to change him to her ways with drawn-out speeches about ethics, and yeah, that never worked with him.

  “No, it’s fine. Just like with drinking alcohol, it’s your body—put whatever you want into it.”

  He simply could not ignore that opening. “And if all I can think about is putting something in your body?” His tongue, fingers . . . dick.

  “You should probably keep those thoughts to yourself.”

  She went to a suitcase that was lying open across one of the two double beds and scooped clothes into her arms before hurrying to the bathroom. She met his eyes just before she closed the door, and he held her gaze and his breath until she was no longer in sight.

  He blew out that breath, staring at the ceiling for a moment to center himself, and then sat on the bed. He grabbed a menu from near the phone and called for room service. The kitchen was happy to accommodate his every request, which was what he was used to. They had no problem agreeing to deliver the food to his room down the hall.

  The connecting door opened, and Raven peeked into the room. “I knew I didn’t hear enough moaning and rhythmic thumping from in here. Did she bail on you?”

  “She’s changing into something a bit more comfortable.”

  Raven grinned. “According to her, a suit of armor is more comfortable than that corset.”

  He smirked. “I personally prefer the corset.”

  “Roux’s a bit of a stiff until you get to know her.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Liar.” At a thud from the bathroom, Raven stepped back into the adjoining suite. “Be good to her, even if it’s just for tonight. Be good to her.”

  Before he could respond, the bathroom door opened, and the connecting door shut behind Raven. Steve was almost afraid to look at Roux. Makeup could completely transform a woman’s looks. What if Roux was a warty green toad under that makeup? What if that corset had been responsible for her amazing figure? He decided it didn’t matter. He wasn’t always attracted first by a woman’s looks; sometimes he was turned on by something else about her. Her smile, her voice, a nervous habit, her personality. That sexy dip above a collarbone. A scar, a stray freckle. Hell, there were thousands of things that made a woman beautiful to him. If Roux didn’t look as gorgeous as he expected, he’d just focus on the parts of her he was attracted to. Which was pretty much every part.

  He turned to face her, and the earth stopped spinning as he held himself suspended in that first glimpse. Her natural hair was shoulder-length and a burnished coppery red. Light danced upon the strands in shimmers. Her pale skin wasn’t flawless—no warts, thank God—but pale freckles spotted the bridge of her nose and smooth cheeks. Her lips, now a light, natural pink instead of jet black, parted slightly as she licked them. His searching gaze hadn’t even made it as far as her eyes, but he knew he was a goner.

  Her pretty lips twisted into a wry smile. “Why do you make me feel naked no matter what I’m wearing?”

  His quick downward glance took in a baggy gray sweatshirt that did her figure no favors and the delicious curve of her hip undisguised by a pair of distressed skinny jeans. Her bare toes with black-painted nails wiggled under his scrutiny. And then he forced his gaze to meet hers. Those eyes of hers were the same—rock star disguise or no—and he felt dizzy as the earth whirled back into motion beneath him.

  “Because I see you,” he said. “I don’t just notice or look. I see.”

  Her slightly trembling hand tucked a lock of her hair behind one ear. “So that’s why I’m so nervous all of a sudden,” she said a bit breathlessly, not realizing her admission allowed him to see even deeper. And as much as he wanted to taste her lips, her skin, and the heat between her legs, he didn’t want to give her any excuse to put up barriers.

  “I ordered room service. It should be delivered in a few minutes.”

  She smiled. “Good. I’m actually starving now that I’m thinking about food.”

  “We’d better go, then.”

  Her smooth brow crinkled as she drew her eyebrows together. “Go? We’ll need to be here when the food arrives.”

  “It’s being delivered to my room down the hall.”

  “Ah, so there’s your move. I was wondering when you’d make it.”

  He lifted both hands, pleading his not-so-innocence. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not that kind of guy.”

  She grinned. “You just plan to be so charming, I can’t resist you, is that it?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Good luck, Aimes.”

  She headed for the door in self-assured strides, and if her gentle beauty hadn’t already completely undone him, that confident walk of hers would have.

  “Just so you know,” she said as she opened the door and waited for him to pass her and go into the hall, “I am the epitome of self-control.”

  “Is that so?” He stopped beside her and placed a hand on her lower back.

  At his touch, her breath came out in a trembling rush, but she nodded.

  “We’ll just have to see about that,” he said close to her ear, coaxing her bare feet—which seemed to have rooted themselves to the carpet—forward.

  She stood straighter as she moved into the corridor, but without those killer boots of hers, she barely reached his shoulder. He promised himself he wouldn’t make a move on her. He would not be to blame when she tossed self-control out the window and embraced the complete lack of control that Steve typically preferred.

  “Which way?” she asked, peering down the empty hall in both directions.

  Glad he’d looked up his room number when he’d ordered room service so he could lead the way rather than have to scramble for the information, he showed her to his door. He half expected her to turn away and run to safety—not that he was a threat—but she entered his room and switched on the light. He spent the next several minutes tossing dirty clothes into the closet and empty beer bottles into the trash. There was half a pizza lying in an open box on the middle of his
bed that had seen better days, and his entire room smelled like greasy cheese and pepperoni. Every time he came to New York, he had to have a pizza, because even though he was from Illinois, he much preferred a good New York pie to a Chicago one. He was especially interested in the New York pie watching him trying to make the place presentable. Perhaps they should have stayed in her room after all. She seemed far less at ease here.

  A knock drew him to the door.

  “Room service!” the visitor announced.

  Steve exchanged the pizza remains and a decent tip for his freshly seared steak and Roux’s eggplant lasagna. Roux was staring out the window when he set their second dinner on the table in the corner of the large room.

  “At least we didn’t have to wait long,” he said.

  She glanced at the food, his king-size bed, him, his bed again. He could only guess the train of her thoughts, but they seemed to involve the bed.

  “Would you rather eat in bed?” he asked, nodding toward the wide expanse of mattress that he would love to decorate with her nude body.

  She hurriedly sat at the table and folded her hands in her lap. To keep her from seeing his smirk, he walked around the table and behind her, leaned over her narrow back, and lifted the cover from her plate. He blew a breath over the side of her neck, and she squirmed, tilting her head into the sensation. Okay, so he couldn’t resist making a few moves on her. He wanted her, after all. He refused to be overly aggressive, but it didn’t hurt to prod her in the right direction.

  “I hope the eggplant lasagna is to your liking,” he said. Her food actually looked better than he’d anticipated when he’d ordered it for her. The dish had come highly recommended by the guy who’d taken his order.

  “It smells delicious.”

  She turned her head to offer him an appreciative smile, and her mouth was so close to his, he could feel her breath against his lips. He waited, hoping she’d take the kiss he so desperately craved, but she turned to find her fork, used it to cut through the cheesy layers on her plate, and delivered a bite to her delectable mouth.

  Disappointed, but far from ready to give up, he slid into the chair across from hers and lifted the lid off his own plate. The mouthwatering aroma of well-seared beef made him reach for his utensils and saw off a healthy-sized bite of his ribeye.

  She didn’t comment on his meal, but he noticed she kept her eyes averted from his plate and the puddle of bloody steak juice pooling at its center.

  “So are you vegetarian for moral reasons or health reasons?” he asked.

  “Both,” she said. “But honestly, I just don’t like the taste.”

  “Perhaps you’ve had the wrong kind of meat in your mouth. Maybe some trouser sausage would be more to your liking.”

  She pursed her lips and held them together until she got her grin under control. “Does that line actually work for you?”

  “All my lines work.” Though he seldom needed them. He only had to show a bit of interest in a woman, and he got what he wanted. Of course, he’d become quite the expert at spotting easy lays over the years, and he’d gotten himself into a pattern of going after that type of women, so why was Roux such a draw for him? She didn’t seem overly receptive to a little casual sex. Perhaps she’d be more interested in a lot of it.

  “I’m not going to sleep with you, Aimes,” she said, cutting into a thick slice of eggplant with the side of her fork. “It would be a stupid idea to get involved with you while on tour, and I won’t be responsible for causing problems for my band.”

  He swallowed another bite of steak and washed it down with a swig of beer. “Why would sleeping with me cause problems for your band?”

  “This tour could make or break our success, and I’m the jealous type.” She shrugged and lifted her amazing green-gold eyes to meet his. “So when you find a new piece of tail to chase, I won’t take it well.”

  “What’s to say I’ll even be looking for a new piece of tail?” Maybe he was tired of all the meaningless sex. Maybe he was ready to find a more substantial relationship. One that lasted more than a few hours. The very idea had him hyperventilating, but he didn’t back down.

  “Guys like you are always looking for a new piece of tail.”

  She had him pigeonholed. He aimed to prove her wrong about him. He sure as hell wasn’t prepared to admit she was right.

  “You seem to be speaking from experience,” he said.

  “I’ve dated some men in this business. I know what can happen on tour.” She held his gaze steadily. “And I know how you treated your first wife.”

  Ah, so she believed the stories that had been printed during his nasty divorce.

  “I treated her like a goddess,” he said, and he wasn’t exaggerating.

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  Bianca had once been his entire world. And if she hadn’t found someone new, she still would be. Of course, the tabloids had placed an entirely different spin on their breakup—little of it true. Recently discovering that she headed one of those tabloids made Steve wonder if she’d planted those initial false leaks all those years ago to make him look bad and herself the victim. He’d been too heartbroken to even attempt to correct the stories, not even in court during the divorce proceedings. He’d heard the tales of his infidelity so many times that even he sometimes believed they were true.

  For some reason, that undeserved nasty reputation had helped his sex life, not hindered it, but the effects on his love life? He hadn’t had one of those since Bianca left. He’d never believed her capable of betraying him, hurting him, but at least by taking the blame he hadn’t been publicly humiliated. Only those closest to him knew the truth. He hadn’t been man enough to keep her from straying. He hadn’t been enough to love.

  His appetite suddenly lacking, he pushed his half-finished meal aside and watched Roux eat. He wasn’t sure why he decided to open his mouth; it was probably better that she thought he was a complete ass. Those types of opinions kept women at a safe distance, where he wanted them to stay.

  That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

  Maybe not.

  “Shit does happen on the road,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “but sometimes it happens back home when a band’s on tour. Exodus End has had a long-standing rule about bringing significant others on the road.”

  “You see,” Roux said, dabbing at a bit of sauce at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “That kind of policy makes it easier to fool around.”

  “Having your woman on tour makes it hard to focus on the job twenty-four hours a day. Logan’s recent girlfriend-caused lobotomy is proof of that. The four of us have dedicated our lives to our fans for the past fifteen years, and when we’re on tour there’s no time for anything else.”

  “I completely agree.”

  “So maybe Bianca was lonely.” Steve shrugged. “I understand how it could have happened. Maybe my phone calls and gifts and spending as much time with her when I wasn’t touring wasn’t enough. That’s why I went home to surprise her when a show got canceled due to the stadium’s flooding. That’s how I caught her with another man in our bed.”

  Roux’s eyes lowered. “I guess she figured what’s good for the gander—”

  “I never cheated on her.”

  “But the tabloids and ET and . . . Hell, I think it’s even on your Wikipedia page!”

  He snorted. “You believe everything you read on Wikipedia?”

  “Mostly,” she admitted. Her lashes lifted, and she met his eyes. “If it’s a lie, then why haven’t you set the story straight?”

  “Because the truth makes me feel impotent.”

  She rubbed her lips together and reached across the table to rest her fingertips on the back of his hand. That simple touch sent a jolt like lightning through his system, setting every cell in his body into a heightened state of excitement.

  “I know how that feels.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You know how impotence feels?”

  “Yes,”
she said earnestly. “I had a boyfriend once who could never get it up. I’d suck on his dick for hours and . . . pfft.” She turned her thumb downward. “Nothing.”

  She laughed, and then her expression stiffened into seriousness again. He instantly missed her laugh. Her smile. Her teasing.

  “I’m sorry. Your impotence isn’t funny.”

  “I’m not impotent. I can prove that to you at this very moment.” And he couldn’t believe any man would have difficulty getting hard for this woman. He was more likely to have the opposite problem—to always be hard for her. “Did you really date an impotent guy?”

  “I don’t think you’re impotent—no need to prove it. And no, it’s not true. That was a joke. I don’t know how impotence feels. I know how it feels to be cheated on. How worthless it makes you feel. How unwanted. How unattractive.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  She flushed, and her fingers stroked the back of his hand. Just once, but the sensation sizzled up his arm. He tightened his thigh muscles to keep from springing from his chair and dragging her to the bed. He refused to let his oversexed libido give her an excuse to push him away.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said. “When you’re not being an ass.”

  He snorted. “So you have to qualify my . . . beauty?”

  “Oh, you’re always hot, sexy, and too gorgeous for your own good, but just now, when you let me in here . . .” She reached across the small table and tapped the center of his chest. “You were beautiful.”

  His hands slid to cup her lovely face, framing it and those soul-searching eyes of hers between his palms. She made him feel something he never thought he’d feel again. Hope. Hope that someone on this dark and twisted planet might be able to see him for who he truly was and love him because of it, not despite it. Her lashes fluttered to conceal her eyes, and she strained toward him, her mouth too tempting to be denied. He kissed her, trying to keep the caress of his lips on hers sweet and tender. He didn’t want the heat of his desire to drive her away. Not yet. Maybe not ever. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to feel anything but lust for a woman, that emotion clogged his throat.