Gorgeous eyes of light brown she’d seen turn gold with his mood, rich mahogany hair with strands of bronze, a strong, muscled body, and warm-toned skin that made her want to run her hands all over him—he couldn’t be more delicious. Throw in that heartbreaking smile and his personality, and David was a bitably perfect package of man.
He was also a client.
Schoolboy Choir as a group was her biggest client by far. Even more importantly, they were clients she liked.
Fox, Noah, Abe, and David had their moments, but for the most part, the four were amazing to work with—they took their music seriously and extended the same courtesy to her. Even when one or more of them bitched about the publicity she organized, they were consummate professionals on the day. Okay, so Abe had gone off on a reporter last year, but the little weasel had been asking for it.
In no universe was it a good idea to shove a picture of a man’s not-yet-ex-wife under his nose after he’d come off a turbulent red-eye flight, especially when that picture showed said not-yet-ex-wife pregnant with another man’s child. Thea would never admit it to Abe, but she’d cheered a tiny bit inside when he slugged that reporter.
And she was babbling inside her head because she didn’t want to think about what had happened in her office.
“David asked me out,” she said to the eggshell-white walls that had been a screaming pink when she moved in. That had been six months ago, three hours after she found her fiancé with his face buried between the thighs of an ex-cheerleader shopping for a corporate husband.
Slamming the door shut on that ugly memory because she refused to allow Eric and his bimbo to steal any more of her emotional energy, she rubbed her hand over her face. Damn it, why did it have to be David?
Four Months Later…
Chapter 1
David didn’t bother to tell any of the others he was heading out. The rest of the band, as well as the long-term crew, all knew he liked to take a long, quiet walk the night before a show. Sometimes it took a bit of fancy footwork to slip out unnoticed, but on the whole, it wasn’t too bad. He was lucky; he tended to attract far less media attention than Fox, Noah, and Abe.
Tonight it had been even easier than usual. Most of the media hounds had gone home, and the ones still hanging around weren’t going to waste their time tailing the “Gentleman of Rock” when they might get a titillating shot of one of the others doing sexy things with a beautiful woman.
Leaving the area immediately around the Sydney hotel where the band was staying pre-concert, he flipped up the hood of his dark gray sweatshirt, shoved his hands into the pockets of his black pants, and started walking. He should’ve changed from his tailored white shirt and black pants to jeans and a tee, but he’d wanted to get out of the hotel too much to waste even five more minutes.
He could remember exactly when he’d begun to take these walks—way back during Schoolboy Choir’s first ever national tour. Overwhelmed by the attention and the constant demands from people who wanted a piece of him, he’d just needed to breathe. Ironic how that was. When he’d been a kid in a tiny apartment in the Bronx, he’d dreamed of a shiny car and a big house, and when he could afford all that and more, the only thing he wanted was the anonymity of walking the city streets.
Sydney was a city he’d visited before with the band, so instead of sticking to the main drags, he wandered off the beaten path. It was on his way back to the hotel over an hour later that he found himself on what appeared to be the fringe of a red-light district. The shadowed and slightly seedy streets filled with strip clubs and hole-in-the-wall bars suited his current mood.
“Get over her, David,” he told himself, not for the first time. “Take a woman home and fuck it out.”
Except even as he spoke, he knew it wasn’t that easy. He’d tried after Thea made it clear she had no interest in him. Two nights after her rejection, he’d found himself at a party overflowing with leggy models who had a soft spot for rock musicians. A raven-haired beauty with pillowy lips and generous breasts had draped herself all over him, whispering an explicit invitation in his ear. It had involved the bathroom floor and her on her knees in front of him.
How fucked up was it that he’d turned her down? As fucked up as the fact that he was being faithful to a woman who didn’t want him. Frustrated with himself for still being so damn hurt, he shoved a hand through his hair, pushing off the hood as he came within sight of another random bar with a beat-up black door and no bouncer.
Deciding he might as well get a beer if he was going to brood, he walked into the dark and dingy place full of scarred wooden tables and hard men. They looked like the construction workers and bricklayers he’d run errands for as a boy, before he’d won the scholarship to the boarding school where he’d met his best friends.