Текст книги "Heart of Rock"

Автор книги: Karyn Gerrard

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Chapter Seven

Carly heard the knock at her hotel room door. It was Byrne. She sensed his damned sexy aura and could smell his enticing, spicy masculine scent. If she were smart she wouldn't give him access. She had never claimed to be clever when it came to hot, handsome men. She'd made a couple of mistakes in the past, and she had the sick feeling Byrne could be her biggest mistake of all. The concert tonight had been one of his best on the tour. His glorious voice, stage presence, and performance were off the charts. Everything clicked. She basked in the love and adulation of the Montreal fans. Hell, if she had a lighter on her, she would have held it up as well. The man truly had a talent. Another knock brought her back to the present. Fuck it. Why fight it? She opened the door.

Byrne had showered, and his hair was still slightly damp. His white shirt hung open, teasing her with a glimpse of rugged, muscular chest. He wore skintight brown leather pants and held an ice bucket with cans of Pepsi and two glasses.

He smiled. "Thought we'd celebrate. It was a bloody great concert, wouldn't you say?"

Carly stepped aside and bade him enter, then closed the door behind him. "Yes, it was fantastic. Too bad the tour is almost over. You're on a roll now."

Byrne set the ice bucket and glasses on the desk. "There is only Washington DC left. I've been on the road for more than year. I don't know if I'll be able to take it easy."

Carly reached for a can, pulled the tab off, and poured it in both glasses. She handed one to him. Their fingers brushed by each other, and the electric current tore through her body from the touch. She bit her lip and clinked glasses with him. "Cheers. You deserve a rest. Relax, write some music, and continue to recover from your… ah…"

Byrne cocked his eyebrow. "Addictions? My arse-hole behavior? My selfish indulgences?"

She couldn't help but smile. "Yes, all of it."

Byrne raised his glass to her and took a drink. "You've been a support, Carly. Couldn't have got through the last two weeks without you."

She swallowed a mouthful of soda, and then set the glass on the desk. "I did nothing. You have the will to steer your own destiny, and you did."

Byrne set his glass next to hers. "I'm not much of a believer in destiny, but I'll steer it tonight. I want you, Carly, on the desk, against the wall, on your knees, and on top of me. If we can manage to do it all I'd be as happy as a pig in muck."

"Byrne…"

He held two fingers to her lips. "Love, don't think about it too hard. Let's enjoy the night and take pleasure in each other."

She couldn't argue with him on those points. She wasn't in the mood for deep conversation, not tonight. There was so much she didn't know about him. One thing she did know: He was a skilled and accomplished lover. No doubt all the practice he had. He moved his fingers away.

"Aren't you tired? I mean, the show you put on…"

"Aye, I'm a bit knackered, but the adrenaline from the concert is still pumping, and the shower only revived me more. After we make love, I want to stay with you, darlin', sleep, breakfast, the whole damned thing."

She had no willpower where he was concerned. Brogan Byrne was sweet, sexy man candy, and she wanted to indulge and gorge herself, at least for tonight. Could she walk away from him in the morning? Keep her distance? Truthfully, she didn't want to be involved with a man hanging on the precipice of sobriety. She had witnessed enough of that growing up with her own father's struggles to stay sober. Her dad wasn't a mean drunk, nor was he abusive physically or verbally. He would just withdraw. The coldness became a part of life and a part of her. She didn't want Byrne clawing past her frosty defenses. The more she let him near, the more he chipped away. He wasn't perfect, but then she always thought perfection was overrated. Regardless, after tonight she'd have to protect her heart.

"The 'whole damned thing' is only for tonight, Byrne. In the morning, we part." A pained look crossed his handsome face, but it was so brief she thought she imagined it.

"Fair play. Tonight only. But I reserve the option to revisit this later."

"Much later, if at all."

He boldly cupped her breast, kneaded it, and pinched her pebbled nipple. "A challenge. Know this, Carly: What we shared yesterday is rare, and before you say it, it's not some muck-shite lie I shovel out to all women. I mean what I say."

Byrne captured her mouth in another devastating kiss. She melted immediately. Some resistance she had. She shamelessly threw her arms around his neck and ground her body into his obvious hardness.

"Take me to your bed. Have your way with me," Byrne whispered between kisses.

No way could she pass the invitation up. Taking his hand, led she him into her bedroom. The hotel suite was plush and the bed king-size, with a burgundy silk duvet and matching pillows and cushions. Carly couldn't wait to get Brogan Byrne stripped and under her. He stood stock still and watched her every move while she pushed his open shirt off his broad shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She then unzipped his leather pants and pulled them down. No underwear. Why was she not surprised? He didn't wear them yesterday either. He opened his clenched fist and dropped three packages of condoms in her hand.

"I have more, whatever we need."

"On the bed and on your back, Byrne."

He clutched her wrist. "In bed you will call me 'Brogan.' I will make sure you scream my name to the skies. You follow?"

Oh, masterful. She kind of liked it. "As you wish, Brogan."

He closed his eyes briefly and moaned. He then opened his eyes and fixed hers in a searing, desirous gaze. "Love, I've been called worse 'B' names, but hearing 'Brogan' from your succulent lips is heaven to my ears."

He let go of her wrist, stepped out of his leather pants, and lay upon her bed. His magnificent cock was erect and lying full and thick up past his navel. His eyes smoldered and locked her in a sexy, molten gaze.

"Get on your horse and ride." He slapped his thigh in invitation.

While she practically tore off her clothes, Byrne rolled on a condom and Carly wasted no time climbing onto the bed and raising herself above him. Grasping his cock, she lowered inch by agonizing inch. She was so damned wet and so eager that she took him all. The back and forth rocking motion sent sparks of intense heat through her entire body. Byrne grabbed her hips and thrust upward with decided purpose. She stared into his determined face. This couldn't be the same man she witnessed hit rock bottom merely two weeks ago. It was a remarkable recovery to be sure. It could turn on a dime, however, which made any relationship with him impossible. Enjoy tonight. Forget tomorrow.

Sweat rolled down her back. The intensity and the power of his thrusts caused purple and black color to swirl in her vision. She'd never experienced such passion before. She was in for one hell of an orgasm. Her head snapped back with such force she heard her neck crack. "Oh, Brogan. God, yes!"

Byrne pulled her down toward him and kissed her soundly. His tongue thrust matching the upward push of his cock. He pulled away as his animal growl and clenched teeth indicated his own intense release. Carly sat upright and watched the oblivious desire play out on his face while he bucked and writhed under her. Brogan Byrne was beautiful and magnificent in climax. His eyes stayed fixed on hers, and his forceful gaze seared her soul.

She cupped his cheek tenderly. "Brogan…"

"Have I told you how much I love the sound of my name on your luscious lips, darlin'? I have, I know, but say it again." His voice was raspy, husky, and sexy as hell. He was also out of breath.

"Brogan. Brogan," she whispered, stroking his smooth, freshly shaved cheek.

He smiled. "Off, love. Have to change the rubber."

"More?"

"Oh, aye, much, much more."

Carly lifted herself off Byrne. Wow, he was still hard. So the stamina part of the rumor was true. Byrne swung his legs around the side of the bed, stood, tore off the used condom, dropped it in the trash, and rolled on another. His head inclined toward the plush burgundy armchair. He sat down, and then crooked his finger, his smile teasing and sexy.

"Have a seat, love, right here. Facing me."

The chair was big enough she could easily fit her knees on either side of his slim, muscular hips. Carly moaned aloud at the feel of his cock filling and stretching her as she lowered onto his erection. His hands brushed the sweat-matted hair from her face. Byrne's fingers moved down and brushed past her swollen clit.

"So your hair is brown like mine. Never would have guessed."

"I'll dye mine back when you dye yours, rock star."

Byrne laughed. The sexy deepness of his voice caused her to gush once again. She seemed to be forever wet around this man. The smile left his face as he tenderly caressed her cheeks with the pads of his fingers. Some of them were callused from his guitar playing, and the rough feel caused sparks to roam through her body. His touch was electric, scorching, and blazing her skin in ways no other man's ever did.

"See me, feel me…"

Oh, God. It was a song from The Who. "See Me, Feel Me." He sang to her in such a poignant way tears clustered in the corner of her eyes. He repeated the opening lyric three times, each occasion with more feeling. He managed to sound even better than Roger Daltrey, at least to her. If it was in her power to heal him, she would. Carly got the distinct impression he needed healing. This was not hollow sex, and it scared her but also touched her in ways she didn't think she was capable of feeling. A couple of tears escaped her eyes and trailed down her cheeks.

"Oh, Brogan—" She kissed him with everything she had and with everything she was feeling.

Her unspoken response to his heartrending singing was, I see you, I feel you, and I touch you. If only I could heal you.

Carly moved her hips. Byrne's hands moved up to cup her breasts. He flicked and pinched her erect nipples. She moved faster, and her tongue explored every inch of his hot, sexy mouth. He lifted his hips to go deeper. It was too much of everything, physically and emotionally. She was building up to a burst-a-vein-in-your-head orgasm. Byrne broke away from her swollen, burning lips and clamped his mouth on her breast. That did it. She screamed.

He was right, the arrogant rock bastard. She did scream his name to the skies and more than once. She squealed in the chair facing him, against the wall, and the icing on the damned cake, on her hands and knees while he pounded his cock into her pussy. She wanted fast and furious, and Byrne gave it to her, everything she wanted and needed from him. He held nothing back. Her groans, cries, and shrieks could shatter glass. Her voice was raw and ragged like it had been pulled across a cheese grater. Hours later when she fell asleep in his warm embrace, she was sure she had died and gone to sexual heaven.

* * * *

The tour was at an end. A week had passed since the concert in Montreal. Luckily, Brogan Byrne was allowed back into the States even though his drug arrest hung over his head like the sword of Damocles. As for his drug charge, he had to appear in Toronto court in November. He would get a record and a fine. He was lucky; it could have been worse. The latest issue of Rock Reportsall but painted him as the Caligula of the rock world. Overstated to say the least. Truthfully speaking he was embarrassed and perhaps ashamed. Lying low was really the only option.

Nigel Winwood, the British expat who owned Cascade Records, encouraged him to take a long rest. So much for a West Coast tour. The record and promotions companies agreed this was not the time for publicity. Nigel put the brakes on the plans and postponed it until the next year. Nigel also hinted about music for a new album. Cascade wanted it sooner rather than later.

He had not seen Carly since the concert in Washington DC the night after the Montreal show. He stood in his little-used office at Cascade and gazed out the window. It was late summer. A streetcar clanged loudly as it passed by the window. The sounds of city traffic intermingled and created an urban symphony. Brogan heard music in everything, even water dripping from a tap.

Instead of heading home to Dublin maybe he would spend the winter at his private beach house in Ocean City on Maryland's Atlantic coast. Brogan was ready for a little down time. Maybe he would write some music. He had to stay nearby for his court appearance in Canada at any rate.

He had to admit, he felt better than he had in several months. Staying sober was a struggle, but it lessened with each day. Still, how would he handle the next drama in his life? Would he turn back to sex and stimulants? Carly was right. He had to steer his own destiny. However, perhaps a little help of the therapy kind was in order. Everyone seemed to be seeing a psychiatrist, why not him? Now he just had to say his good-byes to Carly. Brogan could hear her in the outer office talking to his assistant.

* * * *

Brogan Byrne never ceased to stun her afresh every time she laid eyes on him. It had been almost a week since they had seen each other, but somehow it seemed longer. They had to part. Carly had thought of nothing else since Montreal. Oh, God, the night in her suite… it never left her thoughts. In fact, what they shared had such an impact on her heart and soul she needed more time to think and consider her next move, if there was one. She pasted a non-committal smile on her face.

"What are your plans?"

"Spend some time with my brothers. Write some music. Stay sober. Not necessarily in that order," Byrne said.

They stared at each other, not knowing what else to say. She would be keeping in contact with Byrne by phone, but it wouldn't be the same. The last month they had been in each other's pocket. She was surprised to find she would miss his cute, tight Irish ass.

Byrne laughed and backed her up against the wall. "Remember this? Maybe you want to put a vise grip on my balls again." His voice was light, teasing.

Carly laughed in return, but his nearness affected her anew. Her fingers lightly touched his arm. "You were a pig that night."

Byrne's voice softened. "Aye, I know. I'm sorry, Carly. I'm sorry for a lot of things. I couldn't have got through this without you. Thank you." He moved closer. "For everything."

It seemed like good-bye, a permanent one. She didn't like it. Her hand trailed up his arm and caressed the ridges of his wool sweater. The muscles clenched underneath her touch. God, she wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

"Carly, what are you thinking about? Are you thinking about our first kiss on the beach, or are you thinking you want to kiss me right now?"

Arrogant rock star bastard. He was right.

"Kiss me. Kiss me now." His voice sounded husky, the invitation too good to pass up.

She gazed up into his eyes. There were swirls of intense passion mixed in with the greenish-brown colors. They were clear, alert, and also swimming with desire. The heat, the need, and the fucking want. He pulled her closer, and her hand went to his shoulder to steady herself, for her knees shook. Byrne cupped her ass through the leather skirt and brought her in tight against him. He was hard. Very hard. He rolled his hips so she got the message. She did.

"Kiss me—"

Slowly she rose up on her toes, and her lips moved closer.

They kissed. Deeply, thoroughly, and it was as earth-shaking as their previous kisses. Except this one had a hint of sadness mixed in as they were parting. Carly tasted every inch of his mouth, caressed with her tongue, wrapped it around his and pulled him deeper. She didn't want it to end. The kiss went on and on. Her lips were swollen and red from his aggressive kisses. Byrne would push, demand, then back off, and the kiss would be tender and gentle, then demanding in its desire again. Talk about a damned roller coaster. Finally, she pulled away. Her lips skimmed his chin. Byrne stepped back. It was over.

"Well. Not bad. Better than a vise-grip to the bollocks."

Byrne wanted to pretend the kiss meant nothing. A part of her throbbed with hurt, but she smiled nonetheless, though she imagined the smile did not go all the way to her eyes.

"It was all right, as kisses go."

"You take care, Carly."

"Yeah, you too, Byrne. Stay out of trouble."

She watched him stride away. Carly wanted to call him back and throw herself in his arms, but she wouldn't. Her pride wouldn't let her. The time wasn't right for them, and she knew it deep in her heart. Maybe it would never be right, and that was what hurt most of all.

Chapter Eight

November, 1974

Carly headed toward Ocean City. The drive was a little over three hours from her apartment in Baltimore, so she left at the crack of dawn. She sat behind the wheel of her brand new 1975 Mustang II, a bonus from Nigel for her work with Brogan Byrne. The car rode like a dream and seemed easy on gas, a plus during this energy crisis. It was a cool, late fall day and slightly overcast. She had the heater turned on low as she headed to the coast. The radio played top forty rock softly in the background.

She was nervous as hell. Carly had talked to Byrne exactly twice since their kiss good-bye in the Cascade offices in September. Both conversations were polite and professional. He'd called three days ago to inform her he was back from his court appearance in Toronto. She had offered to go with him, but he had politely refused.

Byrne wouldn't have a record, and she was relieved. He was on probation and had to pay a small fine. The judge also issued a stern warning. Byrne said he would tell her more when she arrived. She had packed a small overnight bag, wishful thinking perhaps as he had given no invitation for her to stay. There were lots of hotels along the highway, and she didn't fancy a three-hour drive home in the dark.

"(I've Been) Searching so Long" by Chicago played on the radio. The ballad was perfect background music for her thoughts. She had been searching for an answer. Just what were her feelings toward Byrne? Carly had thought of little else since they parted. Maybe it meant more to her than it did him. He was a man, after all, and a rock star. She'd never had these feelings before, the need to be with someone always and to protect them and to care.

Fate could be cruel. The next song was Byrne 'N' Flame's rock ballad "I'm on Fire." She had purposely avoided Byrne's music since they parted. His crystal clear voice soared and cut her heart clean in two. She wiped the tears from her eyes. Damn him for making her feel.

"The time is now, how I need you, love…"A sob escaped her lips. She reached to snap the radio off, but she couldn't. His voice had her in a trance. How many women did he do this to? It certainly explained why he was famous, why women fell at his feet, and why she had walked away. She had to protect her heart. As soon as he called and asked her to come to his beach house, Carly found she couldn't say no. He had things to discuss. He wouldn't elaborate. Damn her curious nature, but she had to know.

She picked up the piece of paper she had scribbled directions to his house on. After a multitude of twists and turns she was on a private drive sitting before an imposing wrought iron gate. Carly turned off the motor, climbed out of the car and hit the buzzer on the intercom.

"Yes?"

Oh, there was no mistaking his sinful, melting chocolate voice. "It's Carly—Carly Montgomery." She cringed, like who else would it be unless Carly Simon came to call. Wouldn't be surprised.

"Come ahead."

The high-pitched buzzer nearly burst her eardrum, so she scrambled back into the car and started the motor as the gates rumbled open. She drove up the hill and gasped as the house came into view. The home wasn't overly large but was very impressive. The two-story building had a light gray brick exterior. Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded most of the lower level. The structure had a sloping white roof, and overlooked the ocean. The grounds were immaculate. Obviously a landscaping crew tended to the property. She pulled in next to a dark green MGB and turned off her motor. Carly took a couple of deep breaths, and then slowly exhaled. Yeah, she was nervous. Maybe he'd called her here to dump her as his manager.

She shook her head, grabbed her purse, and climbed out of the car. The sounds of the ocean and the bracing salt air breeze slammed her senses as soon as she opened the car door. God, she loved the sea. She headed toward the double door entrance, her heels clicking on the marble walkway. Before she could even knock, one of the white wood doors swung open. Carly gasped aloud. She hardly recognized Byrne. The shoulder-length white and black hair was no more. He had it cut into a long shag that stopped at his collar. The hair was a glorious deep brunet, the color of freshly brewed coffee. He wore crisply pressed dark brown slacks with russet dress boots. A white shirt lay open halfway down his chest, while a beige wool cardigan sweater completed the neat, casual appearance. His signature Celtic cross dangled between his impressive pectorals. He had put on a few healthy pounds. Gone was the haunted, gaunt look he'd had on tour.

Look at him with the cardigan sweater and hair. He resembles a sexy professor. She couldn't help but smile.

"You look good, Byrne. More relaxed than I've ever seen you. This button-down college thing works for you."

"You think? It will do for now." Byrne grinned.

He appeared the furthest thing from a rock star. In fact she couldn't think of him as Byrne any longer. He was Brogan. Always Brogan. He made no move to embrace her. Instead he held out his arm to escort her. She took it. Her skin started to sizzle as it always did when she touched him, even through the damned wool.

Brogan led her into a large living room. The wall facing the ocean consisted of windows, and the scenery was breathtaking to observe. The furniture was sparse and the decoration minimal. It was obvious he didn't spend much time here. The room was tastefully furnished in a modern look with black leather sofa, chairs, and silver space-age lighting. A solitary framed gold record hung above the gray stone fireplace.

Carly sat on the plush leather sofa, and Brogan sat next to her. She clasped her hands as they started to shake, not like her at all.

"I've missed you."

His words were stark, affecting, and honest. How tempting to say the words right back but her cautious heart wouldn't allow it. Carly crossed a line. She had sworn she would never become personally involved with her clients. One touch, one kiss from the Irish rock god, and she had melted. She would ask Nigel to assign her elsewhere. She should have done it right after the tour. Hell, she should have done it the first time they kissed.

"You have? You even missed all the bossy nagging? I can scarcely believe it." She tried to keep her voice light and teasing, but it wasn't working.

"Maybe I need your bossy nagging. I like a lass with spunk."

"You really do look good, Brogan. Healthy, vigorous, and calm. Definitely at peace."

"Ah, so I am Brogan now? I like that. Not sure about the peace part, but I'm working on it. I've been in therapy these last months."

Really?What a surprise… but, it was the fashionable thing. "It's helped, then?"

Brogan gazed out the window toward the gray, overcast skies and tumultuous ocean. "Aye. I carry a shite load of guilt. I am learning to deal with it and forgive myself. I want to tell you, but I know I'll wind up sounding like some weak-arsed wanker."

His honest, deeply felt words cut clean to her soul. So much for remaining detached, professional, and for trying to guard her heart. With two fingers she touched under his chin and turned him back to face her.

"I want to know."

Brogan grasped her fingers and laid a warm kiss on them. He clasped her hand tightly as if she were a lifeline. "It's a long story. I was in Belfast in the summer of seventy…"

She listened. Carly was riveted and moved to tears.

"Tarrah died because of me. She stepped in front of me and took the brunt of the knife attack. Then she died in my arms. I loved her, and I couldn't protect her. I can't live with her sacrifice. I'm not worth her giving up her life for."

"So you let your life become worthless."

"Aye, I used the sex and stimulants as an excuse not to feel and to sink into a rubbish life. It is what I deserved. Pathetic, I know. The drug arrest was the final straw."

"Did Nevan go with you to Toronto?"

"Aye, and Reese and Abbie."

Abbie? The Malibu Barbie girlfriend? He was back with her?An ice pick slid into her heart. The pain was intense, and she struggled to hide the devastating ache.

"I see," she said coldly.

Brogan smiled. "No, darlin', I don't think you do see. Abbie and Reese are dating. It's very serious. She will be going back to Dublin with him in January. They've both forgiven me and Nevan as well. It's more than I deserve. Abbie and Reese are better suited."

The relief made her giddy. A couple of hoarse giggles escaped her lips. "Sorry," she whispered. "Brogan, why am I here?"

He reached for her other hand and held them both tight. "You understand why I needed this time to be alone, to regroup and to heal?"

She nodded. The warmth from his touch singed her skin, like a Zippo lighter with the flame turned on full tilt.

"I want you to also understand, there's been no women in my life since the tour. I've been living as a Benedictine monk. I've been abstaining from a variety of vices, and it's helped with my healing process. I wrote some music too. I have five songs completed. The lads were here last week, and we had a few jam sessions. I worked things out with them as well. Derek even has a song he wrote. It's all good, Carly. For the first time in four years my life is back on the rails, and I'm in control."

"I'm so glad, Brogan."

He let go of her hands and stood. "I want to play one particular song for you."

Brogan strode to the corner of the large living room. In a stand were three guitars, a Gibson Les Paul 55, an acoustic Yamaha FG 160, and a classic '60s Fender. She recognized quality rock equipment. Next to the stand was a desk covered with notepads and sheets of music. Brogan reached for the Yamaha, turned the desk chair to face her, sat down with his leg crossed, and then cradled the guitar in his lap.

Carly's heart sat in her throat. He was going to sing for her. If only Brogan knew what his voice did to her—perhaps he did know. From the opening strums of his guitar she was aware the song would be a ballad. His voice wrapped around her like a lover's caress.

As this day follows the night.

Know that you are my only light.

Let me start my life anew,

My sins are plenty, forgiveness few,

As seed becomes flower,

Your love gives me power

To break this heart of rock, this heart of stone,

All bitterness has flown.

Joy, peace within my reach,

I implore you, teach,

Break this heart of rock, this heart of stone

My love for you has grown

Because only you can break this heart of rock…

Carly could not stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. The song, his words, and his damned glorious voice smashed down the last of her stubborn resistance and the last of her doubts. She was in love with Brogan Byrne.

* * * *

Brogan set the guitar back in the stand and walked toward Carly. She was crying.

She stuttered the word 'beautiful.' Carly covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders heaved as she continued to sob.

He sat next to her and pulled her into his embrace. Damn, he didn't want to upset the lass like this. "Don't cry, darlin'. I wrote the song for you. I love you with every feckin' part of my broken heart and soul. You heal me, Carly."

She cried harder, so he just held her close until the tears stopped. He had known in Montreal that he loved her, but he'd spoken the truth: He needed the time to piece his life together. He had to be sure of his emotions and also be sure he could stay sober. In the grand scheme of things, three months was nothing. He would struggle with sobriety the rest of his life. With Carly, he could face anything. With his trembling hand he lifted her chin. She had stopped crying and gazed at him with wide, shocked eyes.

"Do you think you could love this damaged man, be my partner in business, life, and in my heart? You are all the woman I want or need. It may not always be easy, but I promise you this, love: It won't be boring."

Carly laughed through her tears. "Good. I hate boring. Brogan, I love you too, so very much."

Brogan captured her lips in a solid, claiming kiss. Carly gave the intensity right back as she always did. She was his rock, his heart, and he would love her the rest of his days.

~The End~