I roll my eyes. "Again, Spenser, I'm eating. I'm eating a lot. Ask Kennedy. He makes sure I eat twice what I probably should. Before long I'm going to be overweight and then what?"
"Then we make you custom clothes like we're doing for Lucy," Xander says as he walks down the hall with a hugely pregnant Lucy. I can't remember if she's six or seven months along now but, holy Hannah, she's humongous. When she punches Xan in the arm I snicker. I love that she gives as good as she gets, and I get a little extra satisfaction because it's Xander she's slugging. I still, after two months, haven't figured out what it is about him that I don't like. I just can't put my finger on it, but there's something …
"Fuck off, Xander," Lucy tells him and heads for Spenser, giving him a hug and touching his side like she's done every single day we've been on the road. "You're feeling okay?"
"Luciana, baby doll, I'm fine. I tell you this every day. Believe me when I say that that bitch didn't get to stick it in deep."
Wait for it.
"Not like Carmine and his big D."
And there it is. We all burst out laughing.
"I have to pee again," Lucy announces and she's gone like a flash.
"Gawd, you've got no shame," I tease.
"Absolutely none," he admits, closing the door in Xander's face and leading me to the makeup chair where he studies me in the mirror.
"What?" I ask, trying not to squirm under his intense stare.
"Nothing. Just looking at your beautiful face."
I make a face at him. "You're so weird."
"And you can't take a compliment," he counters.
"Touche." I wait a beat then ask, "What are you going to do to me today?"
"Hmm," he murmurs. Then, without warning, he unties the do-rag from my head.
"Hey!" I squeak.
"Oh, shush up. You act like we don't know you've only got peach fuzz under there. I just like looking at the gorgeous color. I'm beyond fucking thrilled for you that the chemo and shit they fed you didn't ruin your color or your porcelain skin. Women would kill for both."
I just grunt, arms crossed over my chest. "I don't like people looking at my nearly bald head."
"Tough. I'm looking. Deal with it."
He's so bossy.
"Now, blonde, redhead, or brunette tonight?" he hums.
"For my debut? Let's go natural with red." I'll feel better as myself. It's easy to pretend to be someone else with the wigs, but tonight I want to be comfortable and to do that I need to be me.
"Red it is."
Spenser reaches over and grabs a red wig with long, curling locks much like the hair I used to have. I won't hold out hope to ever be able to grow my hair to those lengths again. I'm a realist and realistically speaking I'd have to be without invasive treatment for a long damn time in order to have them and that just isn't going to happen. Remission, like love, is a lie. It's false hope. It's the calm, the eye of the storm, the reprieve from the shit that's about to hit the fan.
He tugs the wig into place and I blink rapidly, fighting the tears that burn as I remember how much better life had been back when I was healthy. Now, well, now I'm sick even when I'm not sick.
"This is gorgeous on you," Spenser tells me and I smirk at his enthusiasm.
The dressing room door flies open and in walks a tall cool drink of water. Long, dark hair framing an angular and spectacular face. And those eyes. I can't see what color they are from here, but they pierce and look through a person right down to the very soul. I'm not sure I like that. Especially from someone I don't know-and someone who looks as dangerous as this man.
"Knock much?" I snark.
"Nope," is his only reply as he makes his way to the chair next to mine. Spenser gets all atwitter as dark and delicious walks with total control and masculinity in his ripped jeans, combat boots, t-shirt, and leather jacket.
"Who are you?" I ask as he takes a seat next to mine.
He smirks. "There are just enough people out there who have no clue who I am to keep me humble."
Spenser rolls his eyes and tsks. "You, Lucian Cordero, do not have a single humble bone in your body."
"Sure I do, only one, but it's the one I'm not letting you touch."
Spenser snorts. "That's the least humble of them all."
Holy Hannah. That's Lucian Cordero. Lucian Cordero of Burners. Lucian Cordero lead singer of Burners. Oh, but he's pretty. And the eyes I couldn't see before? The color of ice. A massive contradiction to his warm laugh and welcoming smile. When his gaze lands on me, it slowly runs down the length of my satin robe-covered body and I'm acutely aware that I'm naked-very, very naked beneath the lustrous material. Then those eyes that see too much move in that snail's pace back up my body and I straighten my spine.
His gaze meets mine and I lift a brow.
"We haven't met," he tells me with a frown.
"No, we haven't," I reply and Spenser smirks.
"I'm Lucian."
I look him over in the mirror. Pretty is an understatement. He's devastating-and I'm sure that applies to him in more ways than one.
"Coley."
He tilts his head, trying to figure out who I am. I know the second it registers. Surprise, appreciation, sympathy, and more appreciation are apparent in his perusal. Such expressive eyes. I bet he hates that.
"The Blush Baby," he announces, this time smiling a smile that can't be mistaken for anything other than genuine.
"That's me," I tell him with the first sincere smile I've felt in days.
"Lucy knows her stuff."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should. Yes, you definitely should," he answers, running his tongue along his bottom lip.
Holy Hannah. Yep. Devastating seems to be an understatement for the description of Lucian Cordero.
"Back off, Lucian. Coley's a nice girl and you-are anything but," Spenser warns.
"Of course I'm not a nice girl. And baby has nothing to fear from me," Lucian declares straight-faced.
"Sure," I say. "I know who you are and I know where you've been."
"That's handy because I know who you are and where you've been," he retorts.
I watch in the mirror as all color drains from my face and I close my eyes. How? How can he know?
"Hey, whoa there," Lucian soothes. "I didn't mean anything by it."
I meet his gaze in the mirror and he reaches out and gently urges me to turn my head with the pressure of one finger against my chin. Such self-restraint, Coley. I roll my eyes at myself. Go on and turn your chin like a fawning fangirl.
I look into those ice blue eyes-so complex. Light blues melded into grays with flecks of deeper blue within.
"Baby, I didn't mean to upset you. I just meant that I've read about the Blush Baby campaign and your history as well as Jake's," he tells me, leaning forward so his eyes are level with mine, closing the space between us.
I press my lips together-and my thighs. Seriously, this guy is hot and I'm not immune.
"Okay?" he asks.
I nod slightly.
"We've all got secrets, darlin', and as much as we don't want them to, secrets have a way of finding their way back to you and being revealed."
"Yeah," I whisper. That's the truth of it. It's going to circle around sooner or later. I hope it's been enough years that they don't recognize me as the Blush Baby.
"I'll help keep your secrets safe," he whispers.
I can't hide the shock. "You don't even know me. For all you know I killed someone."
He shrugs. "You're good people, baby. I can tell. Whatever you need, I've got your back."
I study him-really study him and see the sincerity in his words. It's not every day someone like Lucian offers to help keep you safe. Because that's what he's really offering. And like him, I can tell he's good people too.
I nod. "Thanks."
He leans in, I hadn't noticed the fingers still holding my chin lowered to brush against my cheek, and then he does it. He presses his lips to mine. Soft, so soft I barely feel it, then again a little firmer, and again. Holy Hannah.
He pulls back and looks at my mouth, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. His gaze raises to mine and I can't read what I'm seeing. All I know is it's intense.
"Oh hell," Spenser exclaims. "No, no, no. Lucian, I told you-"
Lucian cuts him a look, his thumb still resting on my lip.
"Well," Spenser announces in surprise. Well what? "Who would have thought." Huh? I must have missed something with this nonverbal man-speak.
Lucian's eyes meet mine and he smiles. "Pretty baby, you're a breath of fresh air."
"I'm not your ‘baby'," I blurt out. I have no idea why I said that and I wish I could take it back as I feel heat rise into my cheeks. A blushing redhead isn't a pretty sight.
He chuckles. "No, not baby. Baby."
"What's the difference?"
He smirks. "Not b-a-b-y. B-B."