Mandy went hot and cold at the same time. Her mind had sort of shut down halfway through and she had to remind herself to breathe and get the oxygen running through her brain again. She turned to stare at him, but all she got was his profile, his expression sober.
"I've never really had a crush before," he murmured thoughtfully. "It feels … great. But frustrating. Because now I want to be with you all the time. I want to tell you all my deep, dark secrets, want to take you all around the world and show you the beautiful places I've seen and have always wanted to share with someone special. I want to make you laugh and cry … but in all the best ways. You're the first woman to push me to extremes – half the time I want to be your hero, and the other half all I can think about is fucking your brains out. So yes, Mandy – this is all totally inappropriate."
He was still staring out onto the dark highway, his words coming out smooth and calm, while Mandy stared at him in disbelief. The lights, the movement, the speed of the car all blurred into a stream of distorted color, and she found herself fumbling for the right words, the right reaction, the right way to say it all. She came up blank.
His declaration switched on a part of her that Mandy had never imagined existed. His mode of expression was part-crude, part-factual, and countless layers of stimulating in the most elemental way possible. He'd gone for the shock factor, and if her thumping heart and hardened nipples were anything to go by, he'd certainly hit the mark.
"I … I don't know what to say."
"Just trust me, okay? I'll never hurt you. I literally would rather get my hands cut off before I do that."
Mandy wanted to melt into a puddle in her seat. Too much to process at once, it was virtually impossible for her to argue as he suddenly swung the car into the next U-turn on the highway and sped up the hilly slope till a storied house could be seen in the distance.
She could tell it was a huge, manor type of place in the middle of nowhere. Mandy's heart beat faster in a mixture of excitement, terror, and wonder. Had Ethan really just said all those things? As incredible to believe as it was, she couldn't fault her hearing. She'd known he was physically attracted to her and yet this was different. He was practically confessing he'd become infatuated with her, and it just seemed impossible to consider.
What had it been … three or four days since they'd met? She couldn't deny he'd struck her senses that first time and since then, she'd been fixated on finding out all she could about him. Just for professional reasons, she'd thought. Now things were getting real and Mandy panicked.
She hadn't signed up for this. Some women might feel flattered, but Mandy was just freaked out and terrified. What the hell was she supposed to do now?
Chapter Six
Too late, Mandy realized how easily she'd let down her guard. Big mistake with a guy like Ethan. Even with his best intentions and hers, the attraction was far too strong. She may have denied it in her heart from the beginning, but her body now had a mind of its own.
They'd taken a tour of Ethan's beautiful mansion, which had an inviting yet relaxing Zen feel to the bedrooms and a living room filled with items by the world's top designer. Andy Warhol paintings adorned the walls and the whole house shone from the beautiful, dark wood flooring. The kitchen was the most impressive that Mandy had ever seen; it was sleek and modern with stylish bar stools and contemporary lighting to set off the well-laid island and state of the art kitchen appliances. In his office, Mandy got to see his collection of custom guitars plus many awards that were displayed proudly on the walls, both from The Strum albums and personal ones he'd received for being best guitarist of the year two years in the running.
Mandy fell in love with the master bathroom, which had a luxurious marble floor, and the master bedroom, which boasted a fireplace and its own private balcony. He even had a recording studio and a game room, which looked like a gamer's paradise complete with a huge screen, consoles, and gaming chairs. She could just imagine how it must have been growing up in such a lovely house with its view of the mountains and wooded valleys.
"Robert bought this place because it was a great place to write and raise a family," Ethan said. "Now that it's all finished, I can come here and write my music and do some recordings, too. None of the guys have been here yet, not since it I'd bought it and had it redone."
"It's nothing like what I'd expect a rock star's house to be," Mandy said wryly, inwardly warmed to think she'd really been the first he'd brought here. None of his groupie girlfriends or latest squeeze and not even one of his band brothers. She still hadn't come down from the high she'd got when he'd first told her how he felt about her. She'd never been a grown man's crush either; not that she knew of and certainly no rock star's fantasy. Not her – curvy, plain-Jane Mandy. Her sisters would freak out if she told them what Ethan had said to her. They'd just die.
"Oh, there are a few rooms I could show you that pays homage to my dark, troubled side," Ethan said with a smirk as he mixed them each a dry martini. Mandy hesitated slightly before accepting her glass. She'd never been much of a drinker, but Ethan insisted. "Try it. I make the best of them this side of the coast. You need to live a little, baby."
Mandy blushed. "Don't call me that."
Ethan merely grinned even wider, leaning in to growl close to her ear, "Why not?"
And then before Mandy's lower body could turn completely to jelly from his closeness and the delicious smell of his cologne, he drew back, the blue of his eyes now darker rimmed, mysterious. He changed the subject.
"You know, Mandy, I've always been either really happy or really sad. I never actually knew how to strike a balance. For a while I thought that money and fame would be the answer to my problems. Didn't take long to figure out that I was wrong about that."
Mandy looked down to find Ethan's fingers fluttering up and over her bare arm. "If I told you all about my dark, twisted side, what would you do? Would you turn away, hate me?"
"No one's perfect, Ethan," Mandy whispered, mesmerized by the glimmer of heat in those lost-boy blue eyes of his.
"I want to show you something," he said suddenly, and he came around from behind the bar to take her hand and lead her back up the stairs. They walked through a section of the house she hadn't seen before and then past corridor after corridor to a back room. Mandy's breath hitched as Ethan's hand fell on the doorknob. He saw the look on her face and smiled a little.
"Nothing too sinister, I promise," he teased before his smile disappeared and he cupped her face. "I want you to see it. I don't know why, but I want to share this part of me with you. Because I know you won't judge me. You might even understand."
Mandy wasn't really sure she wanted to see it herself, but Ethan's eyes were too compelling. She knew now why his persona was so intriguing to his fans. Even when he didn't say a word, he could still hold the crowd spellbound. Like what he was doing to her now.
He guided her through the door before he turned on the lights. Mandy hadn't been sure of what to expect. She couldn't imagine what was so important that he had to show her.
Mandy could remember hearing a few rumors about Ethan's eccentric tastes thanks to his many kiss-and-tell exes. Now she had all sorts of wild thoughts running through her head while her heart began to pound in curiosity and excitement as her gaze fell on the interior of the room.
Oh.
Wow. Okay, Mandy thought. She'd half expected some kind of kinky sex chamber, but this was … well, nothing at all like that.
They'd entered the main room and at once she could feel that here was a place where he'd spend most of his time. Mandy felt him everywhere as she glanced around at the impressive interior that seemed to be some kind of studio stacked with programming equipment and very expensive guitars as well as keyboards, mixing boards, and computers. Basically everything one would expect to produce his kind of music.
But what really struck her were the paintings on the walls.
There had to be more than a couple dozen of them, with some even propped on the floor, against the wall. All varied in size and subject matter, but there was a recurring theme: edgy, untamed colors, dark and vibrant forms and shadowy, wanton passion in each stroke. So bold, so bad. And then she just knew.
"These are yours, aren't they? You made these," she said astutely and with awe.
He smiled at her, a flicker of pride mixed with uncertainty evident on his face.
"Yes. It's my one secret passion. No one really knows I do this. Or that I can even really do this. It's a part of me I've hidden; it doesn't exactly go with my bad-boy, crazy rocker image. But in these paintings, that's where I'm the really free to be me."