Текст книги "Sweet Possession"

Автор книги: Maya Banks

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CHAPTER 5

Lyric flexed her hands as she navigated the busy streets back to her downtown hotel. Connor rode in silence next to her, his gaze fixed out of his window as if he found her company tedious.

She frowned. She did not want him in her hotel room. He wouldn’t fit! He was too big. Too overbearing. Maybe she could inquire about an adjoining room and he’d be satisfied with having access. Then if she forgot and locked the door, she could say oops and he wouldn’t be invading her space.

She hadn’t reserved a suite. Too much empty space with no people to fill it up and make her feel less lonely and . . . panicked. She’d taken a ridiculously small room and then filled it with all the stuff she’d brought with her because it had made her feel like she wasn’t alone.

No way she wanted Connor Malone intruding. The mere idea had her breaking out in a cold sweat. She embraced a crowd. But being one-on-one? Especially with someone like Connor?

God.

She drove up to the front entrance and the valet opened her door for her. She dropped the keys into his hand and strode around to the revolving doors that led into the lobby.

Connor was waiting and walked in practically attached to her hip. The man was tall and muscled and he took over her space to the point that with every inhale, his scent was permanently imprinted on her.

He frowned when she resisted him herding her to the elevator and headed to the front desk instead.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing if they have another room for you,” Lyric muttered. She put on her widest smile when the desk clerk asked if her if he could help.

Connor put his hand over hers and squeezed. A warning. “There’ll be no separate room.”

The clerk raised his eyebrows and glanced between Connor and Lyric with undisguised interest.

Lyric tried to wrest her hand from his grip but he tightened his fingers over hers.

“There isn’t room for you,” she hissed. “Not even on the floor! I have a single. It’s barely a shoe box.”

“Since you’re only spending tonight here, we can deal.”

“But my reservations are for two weeks!”

Connor turned to the clerk and smiled. “She’s had a change in itinerary. We’ll be checking out in the morning.”

Before she could utter another word, Connor took her elbow and propelled her toward the elevator. She had to hoof it to keep up with his pace, and the heels she wore weren’t conducive to a footrace. It was hard to look sexy and elegant when she was worried about tripping over her own feet.

“Damn it, Malone,” she huffed when the elevator doors closed. “I don’t care what you were hired to do. You aren’t staying in my room.”

“The name is Connor. Use it. And get over it. We’re going to be up close and personal for the next two weeks. My advice is to quit bitching and resign yourself to the inevitable.”

She closed her eyes and bumped her head against the back of the elevator. She knew she sounded petulant and unreasonable, but the idea of him being in her personal space was seriously freaking her out.

Her breath huffed out in jerky little spurts until her vision blurred and she grew light-headed. She was dimly aware of Connor’s frown and a muttered curse, but then, that shouldn’t surprise her. It seemed it was all he did around her.

The elevator doors opened but that didn’t relieve the tightness in her chest. She stood helpless against the wall, unable to make her legs cooperate.

Black spots danced in front of her eyes and the world seemed to get smaller and dimmer with each passing second.

Connor yanked her from the elevator and she found herself plopped onto one of the leather couches in the small sitting area on her floor.

“Breathe, Lyric. Look at me.”

When she didn’t immediately do as he’d demanded, he coaxed her chin upward with gentle fingers. “Look at me,” he said again. “That’s it. Focus. Now breathe with me. Just like this.”

She watched as he inhaled deeply and then exhaled in one smooth motion.

“Think about what you’re doing. Watch me. Do what I do. I won’t let anything hurt you. You can trust me.”

If she could manage the breath, she’d laugh. Trust him? He had no idea what he was asking. Trust was as foreign to her as the things most people took for granted. Love. Friendship. Companionship.

His fingers stroked soothingly over her cheek and it was all she could do not to lean into his touch and rub like a cat. It shocked her how good it felt to be comforted, to be touched by someone who didn’t want something from her she wasn’t willing to give.

She sighed and closed her eyes as some of the awful pressure in her chest eased. She could literally feel her lungs open up and shudder with relief as fresh air rushed in.

Her hands shook and her knees were so wobbly she’d never make it down the hall to her room. How humiliating to fall apart all because she was faced with the prospect of sharing her space with Connor Malone. Wouldn’t the tabloids have a field day with this? Superstar suffers panic attack and passes out in hotel elevator.

“Where’s your room key?” Connor asked quietly.

Her fingers trembled so much she nearly dumped her clutch on her feet.

He took the purse, and, after a moment of digging, he flashed the room card. He handed her back the bag. “We need to get you to your room. Can you make it if I help you?”

She nodded, furious with herself for allowing this to happen. Embarrassed. Gutted for making such an idiot of herself.

Gritting her teeth, she clutched at his arm as she rose from the couch.

“What room number?”

“All the way to the end,” she whispered. “Last one on the left.”

“Okay, take it nice and slow. Hold on to my arm and don’t get in a hurry.”

With each step, she regained more of her strength and some of the panic abated. By the time they reached her room, her knees had stopped shaking. Connor slid the card into the slot and opened her door. A rush of cool air blasted her in the face and gave her a much-needed shock.

“Christ, it’s like a meat locker in here,” Connor said as he ushered her inside.

“I like sleeping in the cold,” she mumbled. “With the covers up to my ears.”

Connor sat her on the edge of the bed. “Do you have anything to drink in here?”

“There’s water in the fridge.”

“You need something a little stronger than water.”

“I don’t drink,” she said defensively. “No matter what you might read about me.”

“I wasn’t suggesting alcohol,” he said dryly. “If anyone will be drinking, it’ll be me. I was thinking more along the lines of something with caffeine in it for you.”

“Caffeine makes me jittery and I don’t sleep well.”

He went over to the fridge and returned with a bottle of cold water. He opened it and shoved it toward her. “Drink.”

She sipped at the refreshing liquid and took in several steadying breaths. “I’m fine now. Really. I’m sorry. I feel like an idiot for losing it like that.”

He sat beside her on the bed and was silent for a long moment. He seemed to be studying her—or the issue—she wasn’t sure which. The idea of him analyzing her made her twitch. Enough shrinks had done that to last her a lifetime.

“Why did you lose it, Lyric?”

She frowned. She hadn’t expected him to be so . . . blunt. Most people danced around her. The few times she’d ever had a panic attack in front of someone else, they’d pretended it didn’t happen, and she was more than happy to do the same.

He cocked his head sideways, and she could feel his gaze boring into her. Lifting and peeling back layers that she was helpless to defend against.

“Does my being in your room scare you that badly?” he asked softly.

Her nostrils flared and it was on the tip of her tongue to deny that anything scared her. But that would be pretty stupid, and Connor Malone wasn’t stupid.

“I’ll deal,” she said. “I won’t like it. I doubt you’ll like it. But I get it. My record label thinks I’m in danger and they hired you to babysit me. I’m not the idiot you think I am. I have no desire to die at the hands of some lunatic. Or be kidnapped and forced to live in a basement somewhere as a sex slave.”

Connor let out a chuckle. “You have a vivid imagination. That’s good. The more hideous a fate you can imagine if this guy gets his hands on you, the easier you’ll make my job because you’ll stick like glue to me.”

She turned so that their gazes met. “I thought you were supposed to stick to me like glue.”

“That too. If we stick to each other, then we won’t have to worry, now, will we?”

Coming from him, in his sexier-than-sin voice, the innocent words sounded like seduction. She’d never been wooed and seduced in her life and damn if he didn’t make her want to be.

She’d be willing to bet he was one of those rare males who took his time with his lover. Coaxing, pleasuring. Unselfish. She’d bet money he’d give a woman complete and total satisfaction.

Chill bumps danced down her arms, raising the tiny hairs on her skin. She could feel the heat radiating off him and it made her want to burrow against his broad chest and absorb him.

What would it be like to lie in his arms? To have him hold her. Nothing else. Just . . . be.

It was a ridiculous fantasy given the fact she didn’t want to be that close to anyone. The only thing worse than being alone was being one-on-one. Allowing someone to see inside her. To see the truth.

Connor stood, shaking her from her reverie. “You were right about this room. It’s barely bigger than a closet. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be caught dead in anything smaller than a suite. You have so much stuff stacked up in here that you can barely take a piss in the toilet.”

She smiled faintly. “I was supposed to be here for two weeks. I need my stuff. I didn’t bring my tour bus and I don’t have anywhere else to put everything. I gave my crew time off. I’m doing the show with a skeleton band. It’s just a few songs. The rodeo isn’t a full concert and they do the stage.”

“It’s going to be a bitch to move all this stuff,” Connor muttered.

She looked up sharply. “Why are we moving it? Why did you tell the clerk I was checking out tomorrow?”

“Because you are.”

She raised her hands in exasperation. “But why? Where am I going?”

“Someplace safe. No one but Phillip will know and the only reason he will is because he’s making the arrangements.”

She frowned. “But that’s ridiculous. I can’t just fall off the face of the earth. I have things to do.”

He leaned against a stack of luggage and eyed her. “Like?”

“I don’t know. Yet. But I’ll need Trent and R.J. You’ll need them too. They’ve been my personal bodyguards since I began touring.”

“Bodyguards or fuck-buddies?”

She flushed and looked away, and then it infuriated her that she allowed him to shame her.

“If they’re fucking me, then someone else can hardly hurt me,” she taunted.

“If they’re fucking you, they aren’t doing their job,” he said through tight lips. “Their first and only priority is your safety. If they’re focused on you and the next time they can get in your pants, they aren’t watching what’s going on around them.”

She didn’t want to acknowledge that he had a point. Trent and R.J. weren’t around for their security skills. She didn’t even know if they had any prior experience before coming to work for her. They were glorified male prostitutes and the truth of it hit her like a punch to the face.

She paid them. They slept with her—or at least they used to. She wasn’t about to admit to Connor that she hadn’t had sex with them for the last few shows because it would seem too much like she wanted his approval.

Oh, it wasn’t as if she’d hired them for the purpose of sex, but it had dissolved into that and nothing more, so really what were they if not prostitutes?

Nausea swirled in her stomach. When had her life become such a sad mess? When had she become so desperate not to be alone that she paid people to surround her? And then anyone who got too close was quickly shoved as far away from her as possible.

“I can’t fire them. They have a contract,” she said in a low voice.

“They can have their duties reassigned,” Connor said with a shrug. “I don’t give a shit whether you pay them or not. But they aren’t going to be trusted with your safety.”

She closed her eyes, aware of the headache that was intensifying rapidly. She was tired. She hadn’t lied when she’d said she hadn’t slept the night before, and it wasn’t for the reason she’d led Connor to believe.

She’d lain awake in this very room, like she did so many other nights, afraid of monsters from her past, afraid to turn out the lights because she was alone.

Giving her crew vacation time had been a necessity. They were as burned out as she was. But right now, she’d sell her soul to have them with her, surrounding her, to lose herself in the noise and chaos of so many people.

But no, she’d sworn to herself that the next two weeks were going to be a test of her mettle. She was going to step out and face her fears. Even if it killed her.

Only now, if Connor was telling her the truth, someone might do the job for her.

“I’m really just supposed to step back and let you take over.”

It wasn’t a question and she didn’t phrase it as such. It was more of a resigned statement that she already knew the answer to.

“That’s exactly what you’re going to do,” he said. He didn’t even attempt to soothe her and offer platitudes. But then, that would have shocked her, and strangely, it would have disappointed her.

She swept out her hand to the piles of luggage and boxes. “Where do you propose to sleep tonight?”

He studied her for a long moment. “That depends. If it won’t frighten you, we can sleep on the bed. You under the covers. Me on top of the covers. We can put pillows between us. If that idea scares you, I’ll make do on the floor.”

She managed a smile although her heart started thudding painfully as adrenaline spiked through her veins. “I thought you didn’t do floors.”

“For you I’ll make an exception.”

She cocked her head. “You don’t worry about boundaries much, do you? I mean, most people would never dare to push like you have. I can’t decide if you’re really stupid or just plain ballsy.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter as long as I do my job.”

She glanced at the bed, judging how much of it Connor would take up. It was a king bed stuffed into a really small room and Connor was a really big man. He’d need at least half the bed, and then the pillows would take up a fourth, which left her with the remaining fourth.

Or she could just make him sleep on the floor.

All she had to do was say the word, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him she was afraid.

“You can sleep on the bed,” she said before she changed her mind.

“Lyric.”

She looked back up at him and saw something other than scorn or irritation in his eyes.

“I won’t hurt you.”

She nodded and a hundred butterflies were released into her belly.

He surveyed the room again with a grimace. “I had planned to hole up in your room for the afternoon, but I think we’ll both go crazy if we have to spend too much time here. It’s probably not your speed, but I thought I’d take you over to see some friends. I don’t want you out in public. You’re going to keep an extremely low profile for the next little while.”

“Not my speed?” she murmured.

He shrugged. “We get together, have some beer and shoot the shit. You met them all today—or most of them.”

It actually sounded fun and she felt a twist of jealousy that he had friends—good friends—that he kicked back with.

“I’ll go.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to behave. Micah, Gray and Nathan are all very attached. To women I care a lot about. I don’t want you upsetting them.”

She swallowed the hurt and bit back a scathing remark. Every time she thought Connor might be different, he said something to make her remember that to him she was a spoiled, bratty diva who went through men like most people went through toilet paper.

She was a job. A job that he obviously didn’t want but for whatever reason had agreed to. She needed to remind herself of that before she did something stupid like care what he thought about her.

CHAPTER 6

Lyric didn’t argue when Connor walked her to the passenger side as the valet brought the car around. After she was in, she laid her head back on the rest and closed her eyes.

The car rocked when Connor got in and shut his door.

“Head still hurt?” Connor asked as they drove away from the hotel.

She cracked one eye open to look at him. “How did you know?”

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. You’ve been sensitive to light and sound all afternoon. Have you taken anything for it?”

She shook her head.

He made a sound of exasperation. “Why not? Are you a masochist?”

“I don’t like to take anything unless it’s necessary,” she defended.

“I’d say a headache deserves an Excedrin or two. I’ll stop by a drugstore on the way and get you something.”

Dumbfounded, she watched as he pulled into a CVS and parked at the front entrance. He glanced over with a regretful expression. “You probably don’t want to get out, but where I go, you go, so you’ll have to come in.” He switched off the engine. “Sit tight. I’ll come around.”

She was used to a certain amount of deference. People tended to fawn over her and kiss her ass. She didn’t have any illusions it was anything personal to her. You could be a complete asshole and be famous and people would still line up to bow and scrape. She wouldn’t lie and say she didn’t enjoy it. Who wouldn’t like being treated like a rock star?

But Connor’s consideration meant something, and she couldn’t even say why. Maybe it was because he wasn’t the type to give a damn about her fame. It was obvious he wasn’t impressed with her as a person. And yet he did things he didn’t have to do, and it gave her more pleasure than she would have guessed.

He opened her door and extended his hand. She slid her fingers into his, enjoying the warmth and strength of his grip. He helped her from the car and held her elbow so she was flush against his body as they walked inside the pharmacy.

They fit, which was stupid of her to notice or to dwell on. But they fit perfectly. His body shielded hers like it was made to do so.

Never once did he actually look at her, which was fascinating because she was used to people staring at her and watching her every move. No, Connor looked at everyone else. He sized them up, assessed the potential threat and hurried Lyric toward the back of the store.

Not that anyone would recognize her. Out of deference to Connor—and because she was too tired for a fight—she’d dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore no makeup. With a pair of sunglasses to shield her eyes from the sun that made her head pound, she could be anyone and no one.

Connor stopped in front of the array of pain relievers. “Do you have any drug allergies?”

She couldn’t even believe he thought to ask. Was there anything he didn’t think of? She shook her head in response.

Nodding, he selected the box marked “tension headache,” then touched her arm and herded her toward the checkout.

“I can’t figure you out,” she said a few minutes later when they’d gotten back into the car.

He opened the box, shook out two pills, then handed her a bottle of water he’d also bought at the checkout. “What can’t you figure out? I’m a pretty straightforward guy. We aren’t hard to learn. Women, on the other hand . . .”

“Oh no, you’re anything but simple. One minute you act like I’m below pond scum, and the next minute you’re nice to me.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to like you.”

Okay, he had her there. Or so she thought. Did she want him to like her? It was obvious she did from the ridiculous way she acted around him. She hadn’t been this aware of her actions and how they were perceived by others in years. Not since her last stint as a ward of the state where she finally learned that she was just another case number in an unending stack of paperwork.

Not giving a damn was freeing. If it didn’t matter whom you hurt or whom you offended, then you never felt bad when you did so.

“I didn’t say I wanted you to like me,” she said carefully. “Just that you do and then you don’t. Thank you for the headache medicine. It was thoughtful of you.”

Connor shrugged. “It was obvious you were hurting and you didn’t have to be. You need to learn to take better care of yourself.”

She frowned at that assertion but let it go. “So where is it we’re going exactly?”

“To my sister and brother-in-law’s house. They’re having everyone over for beer and barbecue. It’s practically the law down here that you have at least one a week.”

“Life in the South, huh.”

She couldn’t help the disdain or the way her lip curled. She tried to hold it back. Really, she did.

He lifted a brow as they stopped for a light. “You have a bit of a drawl. Bet you were born south of the Mason-Dixon.”

She looked at him, aghast. No one had ever commented on an accent. She’d worked damn hard to remove any instance of it in her speech.

“I do not have a drawl!”

He nodded. “Yeah, you do. It’s subtle, but it’s there. More of a lazy lilt to your words than a distinct accent. You definitely have the flavor of the South, though.”

She was utterly appalled. Her stomach churned and her head throbbed painfully. “Where do you think I’m from?” she croaked.

“Oh, I dunno. Like I said, it’s just a hint. You don’t have to look quite so disgusted. We’re not all backwoods hicks, you know.”

She could still hear the drawn-out, slow drawl in her nightmares. Whispered in her ear. It made her physically ill. For some people, a Southern drawl was like brown sugar. For her it was like nails on a chalkboard.

“Hey, no reason to get uptight. It was just an observation. I’m wrong once or twice a year.”

She tried to smile at his joke but her face felt too tight. She decided a change in subject was the best course before she did or said something to make an even bigger ass of herself.

“So all your friends are married?”

“Micah’s not. Not for lack of trying. Angelina is pregnant, and he’d like to get her to the altar before she pops the kid out.”

“Good for her,” Lyric said. “Just because a guy gets you pregnant doesn’t mean he’s the right guy to marry.”

“Apparently he was right to sleep with,” Connor said dryly. “And it’s not like a guy gets a girl pregnant by himself. There’s definitely some cooperation on the egg’s part.”

“Oh huh-uh. The boy sperm chases down the girl egg and throws himself on her.”

“More like the girl egg crooks her finger and then when the poor unsuspecting sperm comes near, she sucks him in.”

Lyric wrinkled her nose. “I think this is perhaps the most unromantic reproduction talk I’ve ever had.”

Connor chuckled. “Micah loves Angelina, and she loves him. They’ll get married. She just wants to make sure it’s what he wants.”

They pulled into a neighborhood that had all the hallmarks of middle-class suburbia. The entrance was manicured and mowed, trimmed to the nth degree. All the lawns looked like showcases.

The houses were cute cookie-cutters and it was like a scene from Currier and Ives with children playing in an idyllic setting. She’d never been to a scarier place in her life.

“Good God, it’s a Stepford neighborhood,” she muttered.

Connor snorted and pulled into a driveway at the end of a cul-de sac. Lyric’s brow went up as she viewed the Welcome sign just off the walkway to the front door. She burst out laughing and got out.

“Your sister and brother-in-law can’t be all bad,” Lyric said as Connor motioned her to go in front of him.

There in the middle of a neighborhood filled with houses without so much as a grass blade out of place was a house with a sign that read: Beer served here daily.

“I’m impressed. The grass looks like it’s gone a week without cutting,” Lyric said with a grin.

Connor rang the doorbell and laughed. “Yeah, it’s Gray’s way of rebelling against the Homeowners’ Association. It pisses him off that they presume to tell him what to do with his house and lawn, so he waits until he says the neighborhood watchdog starts twitching and foaming at the mouth before he mows the lawn.”

“I think I’m going to like your friends,” she said just as the door opened.

“Well, I hope so,” Gray Montgomery said. He gestured at Connor. “You can’t judge us by this knucklehead.”

Again Lyric was struck by how out of her element she felt. And how intimidated she was by these people. Average, everyday, normal people. It didn’t compute. She should have all these good ole boys kissing her ass just like the rest of the country.

She winced even as the belligerent thought crossed her mind. It was a natural reaction, one she had to fight with increasing regularity. When threatened, lash out. Cover up. Never let them see you at a disadvantage.

“Would you like to come in?” Gray asked.

It was then she realized Connor had already stepped inside the house and she was still on the doorstep gawking like a moron.

“Yeah, thanks,” she said lamely.

She followed the men inside the house and heard distant laughter. Her palms went damp and she rubbed them down her jeans when they entered the living room.

She recognized Faith, and she remembered Nathan Tucker and Micah Hudson from her meeting at Malone’s. Sitting on Micah’s lap with Micah’s hand splayed possessively across her swollen belly had to be Angelina.

Micah was more her usual speed with his floppy hair that hung to his shoulders and the earring glinting in his ear. Nathan Tucker was just downright yummy, though, with his bald head, earring and total badass body. If the woman sitting next to him didn’t look like she could kick Lyric’s and Connor’s asses both, she’d allow herself to drool over the man.

“Hi, Lyric!” Faith called out. “I’m so glad you came.”

The blond woman walked over and took Lyric’s hand before Lyric could draw away. She tugged Lyric forward until she stood in front of the other two women.

“Guys, this is Lyric Jones. Superstar pop singer Lyric Jones, just in case you’ve been living on another planet.”

Lyric had certainly been introduced in more glowing terms than that, but for some reason the implied praise in Faith’s voice discomfited her.

“Lyric, these are two of my best friends, Julie Tucker and Angelina Moyano. I’m just sorry Serena isn’t here to meet you. She and her husband, Damon, are fans. They caught one of your shows in Vegas.”

Lyric smiled and fidgeted under the other women’s scrutiny.

“Nice to meet you,” she offered.

“Hi, Lyric,” Angelina said with a sweet smile. “I’d get up but it would require a forklift.”

Julie snorted and rose from her perch beside Nathan, though Nathan’s hand lingered on her hip. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Julie. It’s nice to meet you, Lyric.”

Lyric shook her hand and smiled again. Now came the awkward part where either uncomfortable silence fell or they made inane small talk about nothing. She hated both options.

To her surprise, Connor came to her rescue. He touched her arm and motioned her back toward Faith while Julie took her seat next to her husband.

“Connor said you haven’t eaten today, Lyric,” Faith said. Her brow creased with concern. “He also said you have a headache. I wanted to ask you what you’d like to eat. Connor wasn’t sure you liked barbecue. Are you a vegetarian? I can make you a salad.”

Lyric threw a puzzled look in Connor’s direction. It was really nice that he’d noticed the fact she hadn’t eaten and that he’d spoken to his sister about her potential likes or dislikes, but where had she gotten the idea that Lyric was a vegetarian?

“No, I’m not a vegetarian. And barbecue is fine. Really.”

“Faith, you dork,” Julie said. “Just because she’s a celebrity doesn’t mean she eats tofu and bean sprouts.”

Faith’s cheeks reddened but guilt flashed in her eyes. Lyric laughed. She couldn’t help it. Of all the assumptions made about her, this was by far the tamest one yet. She wanted to hug Faith.

“You’re very sweet to think of me,” Lyric said sincerely. “But to be honest, I’m a huge carnivore. I don’t eat vegetables. I think I’m still rebelling against my childhood when I was told to eat my veggies or go to bed without eating. More often than not, I snuck crackers and cheese after everyone went to bed.”

Julie grinned. “My kind of woman.”

Faith hooked her arm through Lyric’s and pulled her toward the kitchen. “Then how about a little snack before dinner? Gray just fired up the grill before you and Connor got here, so it’ll be a while yet before the meat is done.”

“Snack?” Lyric asked hopefully. “It’s not carrots or celery sticks, is it?”

Faith’s eyes twinkled and her smile broadened. “No, I made cupcakes.”

Lyric decided she was really a lesbian and immediately plotted to steal Faith away from Gray. She loved anyone who offered her a cupcake.

“I’d love one,” Lyric said with a little too much excitement.

The two women entered the spacious kitchen and Lyric caught her breath. It sounded silly, but this was the first time she’d been in an actual home in a long time. The kitchen was cheerful and warm and it reminded Lyric of long-ago moments with her own mother.

“I have strawberry with cream cheese frosting, or vanilla with chocolate frosting,” Faith said.

Lyric hesitated and stared at the perfectly iced cupcakes on the platter in the center of the island.

“Or you could have one of each,” Faith offered.

“Sold!”

Faith laughed and handed over two of the cupcakes.

Lyric bit into the strawberry cupcake first and sighed. It had been a long time since something so simple as a cupcake made her happy, but at the moment she couldn’t imagine anything better.

“Would you like something for your headache? I have ibuprofen and Tylenol.”

Lyric licked frosting from her lip and shook her head. “Connor took good care of me. He bought some Excedrin.”

“I’m glad,” Faith said softly, “that he’s taking good care of you. Connor . . . He can be difficult.”

Lyric cracked up. She couldn’t help it. Faith gave her a bewildered look and Lyric set the chocolate cupcake down on the island.

“Most people would say I’m the difficult one. You know, spoiled pop star diva? I’m sure it’s all been said more than once.”

Faith frowned. “We women have to stick together. Never admit you’re more trouble than a man even if it’s the truth. It’s better if they get it in their heads early that they are the source of all angst in this world.”