Текст книги "Insider"

Автор книги: Olivia Cunning

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 34 страниц)

with Darren Mills

When the door slid open, Toni turned and looked up from her tissue. She’d expected Logan to come reprimand her for being ridiculously unprofessional—she didn’t deserve to be comforted after the foolish way she’d acted—but the man standing in the doorway was dark-haired and green-eyed, not golden-haired and blue-eyed. He was also the last person she’d expected to cuss her out and tell her to pack her bags immediately.

Dare Mills strode into the room and slid the door shut behind him. She supposed at least they’d have a little privacy when he fired her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded, and his handsome face blurred out of focus as fresh tears flooded her eyes. On second thought, no, she was decidedly not okay. She shook her head, pursing her lips together to stifle the sob creeping up her throat.

“I must say, I never thought you had it in you.” He chuckled and approached her slowly. “You don’t get angry very often, do you?”

Actually, she rarely got mad. And whenever she did, she reacted to her own tirade by crying, which was flipping ridiculous.

She blew her nose and yanked another tissue out of the box to wipe at her eyes. “I’m so embarrassed.” Mortified was a better word, but she’d truly be showing her geekiness if she started using that kind of vocabulary. She’d actually put her hands on another human being and then she’d started spouting words that under normal circumstances she’d think but never say aloud.

“Why? Steve deserved to be told off. And I think after you give what happened a little thought, you’ll give Max the tongue-lashing he deserves as well. He should have never told you Steve’s personal affairs.”

She blinked at him, completely baffled. He’d come back here to praise her for behaving like a raving lunatic?

“Do you need a hug?” He opened his arms wide and flicked his wrists, directing her to the hard chest at his center.

She shook her head. Sniffed her nose and dabbed at her eyes. On second thought, yes, she definitely needed a hug. She nodded and took several steps in his direction. Closing the distance, he wrapped both arms around her and squeezed tightly. She relaxed against him, astonished by how quickly her cares melted away. She would have preferred Logan to be the one comforting her, but whenever she ended up in his embrace, sexual urges consumed her. Being hugged by Dare was different. It was almost like when she was a girl and her father had comforted her when the world had treated her unfairly. Except her father hadn’t had such a firm muscular chest and didn’t smell like a little slice of heaven. Being hugged by Dare was like being hugged by the gorgeous big brother she’d never had but had so longed for when the responsibility of taking care of the family had fallen on her after her father had passed away.

Dare rubbed her back, turning her muscles to butter. Toni appreciated that he kept his touch platonic and his embrace comforting. She’d done enough yelling for the day and if he tried anything, she’d be obligated to tell him off. She’d made a promise to Logan, and she didn’t take such things lightly.

“Feel better?” Dare asked, leaning back to look at what must be a tear-streaked disaster, aka her face.

She nodded.

“You’d better not be touching her, Mills,” Logan called hoarsely from somewhere in the bus.

“I don’t think we need two fights in one day,” Dare said. He released her and stepped away. “Guys like Logan don’t understand how it’s possible to touch a woman without trying to initiate sex.”

“According to him, we’re justfriends,” Toni grumbled.

Dare laughed. “Right. The two of you are much more than friends. Anyone can see that.”

The corner of Toni’s mouth curved upward. She thought so too, but she wasn’t going to press the issue with Logan just yet. She didn’t want to send him running for the Canadian border to escape her.

Dare took a seat on the sectional and made himself comfortable. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Ready for what?”

“My interview.”

She scratched her jaw. Her confidence had been completely shattered by the fiasco of Steve’s interview and the lack of cooperation during Max’s. She doubted she was capable of attempting Dare’s session today.

“I’m not sure I know what I’m doing,” she admitted.

“I’m sure that you do. Sit down. Take a deep breath. And get to work.”

If she hadn’t just been wrapped in his comforting embrace, she would have hugged him for the vote of confidence.

She sat beside him on the sofa, pushed her glasses up her nose, and took a deep breath. She released it slowly and then reached for her legal pad, flipping to the second sheet of questions so that she wouldn’t be distracted by her margin notes about Dare’s deceased fiancée. Nope. She was not asking him that. There’d be only nice, safe questions asked in this interview.

“Okay,” she said, taking another deep breath, hoping it would steady her shaking hands. “Every member of the band is listed in the songwriting credits for all of Exodus End’s songs. Do you participate equally in writing music or do certain members contribute more than others?”

“That’s a loaded question,” Dare said.

She hadn’t meant it to be. Though now that she’d read it aloud, it did sound kind of rude. The undercurrent of who works hard and who skates along accepting undeserved credit was definitely there. Surely Susan, with her years of superior interview experience, could have worded the question better. The trembling of Toni’s hands intensified.

“I’m going to answer it anyway,” Dare said. “But I’m not naming any names. We basically lock ourselves in a room for twelve hours a day for several weeks. We start out with brainstorming and our ideas are practically flying from our mouths and fingers and everybody shows enthusiasm for each other’s thoughts. Then someone disagrees with someone else, we take sides, we argue, everyone decides they hate each other, sometimes we try to kill each other. One of us always threatens to leave the band—usually the same person. We don’t see each other for days or weeks, depending on which of us stubborn assholes was the most insulted by the fighting. Eventually one of us either gets tired of the bullshit and forces apologies or the jerk who started the disagreement decides his butt hurt isn’t worth losing everything over and he eats crow. We then lock ourselves into a room again and start over, this time with fewer stars in our eyes and more compromise in our spirit. And somehow songs come out of that chaos.”

Toni wondered which one of them usually started the arguments, which one threatened to quit the band, and which one of them was likely to get them back together. She was almost positive that Dare was the one who made them compromise and get over their differences. Or maybe Max.

“Which one of you threatens to quit the band?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Dare lifted a brow at her. “I said I wasn’t naming names.”

She lowered her gaze. There she went again, shoving her foot in her mouth. His answer had been vague, but a lot more descriptive than the answers she’d pried from Max and Steve.

“You really don’t know?” Dare asked after a moment.

She had a suspicion. “Logan.”

“When the going gets tough, Logan goes.”

Why did that sound like a warning?

The door slid open. “Sorry to barge in,” Logan said, rubbing his neck. “Just making sure I don’t have to punch Dare in the nose again.”

Dare’s look of annoyance sent Logan back a step.

“Everything looks fine back here to me.” Logan closed the door as he left them alone again.

“He’s different with you, though,” Dare said. “I never realized he was such a jealous son of a bitch.”

Toni didn’t particularly like Logan’s behavior when his jealousy got the better of him, but the idea that he was so possessive of her made her heart smile. She couldn’t deny it. Even if they were justfriends.

She turned back to her questions, hoping the next one was better.

“You supposedly own a legendary Flying V guitar that you use to compose all your guitar solos. Is that true?”

“It isn’t exactly legendary,” he said with a chuckle. He nodded to the guitar on the wall. “Does it look legendary to you?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the guitar in question. “Well, it doesn’t glow with a godly power or anything, but if it’s really responsible for the amazing guitar work you create, then yeah, I’d say it’s totally legendary.”

“It’s not even a quality guitar,” Dare said. “By my current standards, it’s a piece of shit. I’d never use it onstage or in the studio. But something about holding it takes me back to my roots. Back to when creating music was new and fun and magical instead of expected or required. Back when there were no expectations of quality. Back when I had no experience and very little raw talent. Back when everything I played came from the heart even if it sounded like shit. That’s where I always want my music to come from. That’s why I still use that cruddy guitar to compose.”

“Oh,” she said breathlessly, completely swept up in his words. In awe of him. This guy was the real deal. “Can I take a picture of you holding the Flying V for the book?” she asked a bit too enthusiastically. She was already picturing a video clip of it glowing on the wall and flying into his hands. A bit cheesy, perhaps, but she could have a lot of fun with it.

“I guess so.”

“I would love to be a fly on the wall when you guys are writing a song. I’d be the most privileged bug on the planet.”

“Maybe I can talk the guys into writing a song for your book while we’re on tour. We’ve got the guitar, after all.”

Every molecule in the room seemed to stop moving. She was so stunned by his suggestion, time had ceased to move forward.

“You okay?” he asked, his brow crumpled with concern.

“Are you serious? Oh my God, Dare, that would be amazing! I can’t . . . I can’t even . . .” She covered her thudding heart with one hand. “Oh!”

He smiled and reached over to pat her on the head. “That’s the heart I’m talking about, when excitement for your work isn’t fabricated. You’re still young enough that it comes naturally. I hope the real world never wears you down.”

She hadn’t really experienced enough of the real world to know how she’d fare. So far, she wasn’t doing particularly well in the career department. And her love life was a sham. But at least she was trying.

“So do you always compose here in this room?”

“We usually hole up at my place. But we could try to compose here for your book.”

“So why do you bring the Flying V on tour?”

Dare laughed. “This is going to sound stupid . . .”

Toni shook her head, doubted that anything the man said could possibly sound stupid. If he said two plus two was five, she’d have started a campaign to spread the word.

“I like to bring her out on the road so she remembers why we’re working so hard and what we’re trying to accomplish.”

Toni laughed. “You make it sound like it’s a living being, not an inanimate guitar.”

“Her name is Genevieve. And she never fails to come alive in my hands.” He scratched his jaw, smiling broadly. “I told you it would sound stupid.”

Toni shook her head. “I get it. Some people name their cars. Why not name an iconic guitar?”

“I also have a tattoo of good ol’ Genevieve on my back.”

“Okay, you’ve crossed a line. That’s definitely stupid,” she teased.

“Hey! I bet you have a tattoo of your precious camera on your ass cheek.”

“You would be wrong,” she said, her face flaming.

“Are you willing to prove it?”

Oh lord, Dare Mills was flirting with her. Completely harmless flirting, she was sure, but still, definite flirting. First Max and now Dare. Maybe guys had always flirted with her and she’d been too dumb to realize it.

“You could ask Logan,” she said. “He’ll vouch for me.”

“What?” Dare covered his mouth, pretending utter shock. “Logan has seen your ass cheek?”

Toni drew her eyebrows together. “I think he has. I’m not sure. He spends most of our naked time staring at my boobs.”

At Dare’s unexpected bark of laughter, Toni nearly jumped out of her boots.

“I’m sure they’re an eyeful.” He lowered a pair of invisible shades to give them an appreciative look.

Toni swatted at him. “Stop. These are supposed to be serious, professional interviews.”

“I thought you were looking for the real us.”

Rattled, she lifted her notebook against her chest like a shield. “Right. That’s the idea.”

“Then you’re going about it all wrong,” he said. “Just talk to us. We don’t bite.”

She nodded, knowing he was giving her good advice, but also realizing she’d be as exposed as they were if she just talked to them. She wasn’t sure she was prepared to open herself up to the scrutiny of four worldly men.

“Unless you really do have a tattoo on your ass,” Dare said. “Then I will bite.” He made a biting motion and produced a little growl.

Toni stood abruptly and headed for the nearest exit.

“Where are you going?” Dare asked.

“To the tattoo parlor. Where else?”

He was still laughing when she entered the bathroom and shut the door.

with Logan Schmidt

When Toni returned from the bathroom, she found Logan sitting with Dare in the lounge.

Logan noticed her standing in the doorway and smiled at her. “Is it my turn now?”

“Yes, Logan. You’re next.”

“We’re already finished?” Dare asked, his green eyes wide with surprise.

“Our interview completely deteriorated. There’s no way we’ll ever get it back on track today.” She looked at Logan, who was grinning rather smugly. “I hope you’re more serious about this process than Dare was.”

She’d wager the chances of that happening were less than her chances of winning Olympic gold in the decathlon.

“I’ll try my best to behave.” He plastered his most angelic look on his face and pressed his hands together in a prayer pose. With all those soft golden curls framing his face and those pale blue eyes of his, he actually looked sweet.

“Let me know how that goes,” Dare said with a laugh. He rose from the sectional and headed toward the door. Toni caught his arm and pulled him outside the room so Logan wouldn’t overhear.

“I’ve decided you’re right about how to get the best answers for my questions. I’m going to ditch the formal interviews entirely and just talk to all of you.”

“So you’re not going to interview Logan? He’s going to feel left out.”

“I have other plans for Logan’s interview. So if he asks if my questions were about your sex life, just play along, okay?”

Dare grinned and shook his head at her. “I think that man is a bad influence on you.”

“And I will be forever grateful.”

She released Dare’s arm and patted his biceps before returning to the lounge and sliding the door shut. Logan sat with his left ankle resting on the opposite leg, hands linked around his bent knee. She took a moment to admire the cut of his shoulders and arms and chest, having a deeper appreciation for his musculature now that she’d seen how much effort went into looking as good as he did. His toe began to tap, as if he struggled to contain his seemingly boundless energy.

She crossed the room and sat beside him, picking up her legal pad to pretend she was reading her prepared questions as she messed with him.

“John Entwistle,” he blurted.

Toni blinked at him in confusion. “Huh?”

“The musician alive or dead I’d want to spend the day with.”

She sat up straighter, excited to discover some common ground between them. “Oh, I love the Who. My dad and I used to sing ‘Love, Reign O’r Me’ to my mom and dance her around the kitchen every morning before she went off to work. It never failed to make her laugh.” She hadn’t thought about that for years. The memory was equally warm and heart-rending. She wondered if her mom missed those silly moments with Daddy as much as Toni did.

“Your dad sounds like a lot of fun.” Logan grinned.

“He was. He and my mom were so different yet so perfect for each other. He was so affectionate and tender and fun-loving. She’s ambitious and innovative and beautiful.”

“So you got the best of both of them,” Logan said.

Toni rubbed at one eye beneath her glasses. “I can only aspire to be like either of them.” She smacked Logan on the foot with her legal pad. “How could you?”

“What did I do? I’m being perfectly charming over here.”

Honestly, he was, but how could she tease him with her pretend questions if he knew the real ones in advance? “You read through my questions, didn’t you?”

“Just a couple. So now you’re supposed to ask why I chose John Entwistle.”

“It’s obvious. He was an amazing bassist.”

Logan nodded in agreement. “He was. But that’s not the only reason why.”

“Then why?”

“The night before the first the Who reunion tour concert, the man died with a stripper in his bed at the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas. If that isn’t the most rock star way to die, I don’t know what is.”

Toni shook her head at him in disbelief. “I do hope you’re joking.”

“Seriously. The dude was fifty-seven years old and still rocking the mattress with hot chicks.”

Toni smacked his foot with her legal pad again. “That is so crass, Logan.”

“Maybe, but it’s still an awesome way to go.”

“I thought he died of a cocaine-induced heart attack.” When her father had learned of Entwistle’s passing, he’d been devastated and even used the tragedy to press his Just Say No agenda on his impressionable daughter.

“Yeah, but he had a stripper in his bed. So after I fist bump him for not dying on a toilet—”

“Logan!”

“I’ll spend the rest of the day staring at him in awe and begging him to show me his fingering.”

“That’s what she said,” slipped out before Toni could help herself.

Logan burst out laughing and grabbed her, hauling her onto his lap. “I can’t show you his fingering,” he said, “but I can show you mine.”

“Later,” she said, her eyes drifting closed as he found the sensitive spot on her neck. Her body shuddered as waves of pleasure coursed down her spine. “We need to finish our interview first.”

“The entire time you were back here alone with the other guys, I was going crazy for my turn to answer your questions.”

“That’s why you were going crazy?”

His soft chuckle stirred strands of hair against the suddenly sensitive skin of her throat. “You got me,” he said. “I just wanted to be near you and not let anyone else enjoy what I have.”

“Oh, so you have me, do you?” He totally did, but the more time she spent with him, the more she realized she wasn’t the only one who was completely infatuated in this pairing. She had him as much as he had her. She loved the way that knowledge made her feel: desirable, resilient, capable, confident. She never would have guessed that falling in love would make her a stronger person. Now if she could just get the man to stop using the f-word when referring to her; they were so much more than friends. He had to realize that as much as she did.

“I hope so. One-sided love affairs suck.”

“So this is love,” she pressed, her heart thundering in her chest. She wanted him to admit he had deeper feelings for her. Needed him to admit it so that she felt confident enough to tell him how much she already cared about him. He’d want to hear that, wouldn’t he?

She instantly found herself sitting on the sofa beside him when he shoved her off his lap. Her heart sank.

“Don’t be naïve, Toni. We haven’t known each other long enough to put a name on what this is. Why can’t we just be friends for now?”

She turned her face from him, struggling to keep her tears in check so he wouldn’t know how deeply his words affected her. She was naïve and stupid about love, but he didn’t have to be such a dick about it.

“Let’s get this interview over with,” he said.

She wasn’t in the mood to interview him now. What had begun as a playful interaction had turned sour. Why had she insisted on getting him to admit he loved her? It made him defensive and cranky. It made her feel rejected and unworthy. If he loved her, he’d tell her when he was ready. And if he never did . . . Her chest tightened, and one of the tears she’d been trying to hold back slid down her cheek. She couldn’t bear the thought.

“Toni?”

She wiped her face on her upper arm, hoping he hadn’t noticed she was so upset. Being with him might make her stronger, but thinking of losing him turned her into an invertebrate. She had to find a way to harden her heart. She didn’t want to be one of those desperate creatures who needed a member of the opposite sex in order to feel worthwhile. She wanted the kind of love her parents had shared. Where each person was whole and strong on their own and yet being together made their natural awesomeness shine. That was what she wanted.

“Dare warned me this would happen,” Logan said with a sigh.

“Dare warned you what would happen?” she snapped.

“You’d confuse our sexual relationship with a serious, romantic one.”

“If you just kept our interactions sexual, I wouldn’t be confused,” she shouted, her hurt rapidly changing to anger. “But you don’t. You act like you want to be around me constantly. You get jealous of other guys. You’re attentive and say some truly loving things to me. I know you care about me.”

“As a friend.”

Toni’s jaw hardened. How was it possible to find such an affectionate word so odious?

“I don’t think I’m the one who’s confused at all,” she said. “I think you’re the one who’s mixed up.”

“Me?” He lifted his hands defensively. “Babe, you have no idea how many women I’ve banged in my life.”

“Just because you’ve banged dozens—”

“Hundreds.”

“Hundreds?” Her stomach lurched.

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “I lost count.”

She scowled at him. “Just because you’ve banged hundreds of women—really, hundreds?” She shook her head, trying to comprehend his claim. He had to be exaggerating. “That doesn’t mean you know the first thing about love.”

“Next you’re going to claim you know more about love than I do.” He snorted derisively.

“I haven’t ever been in love,” she admitted. Until I met you. “But I’ve seen it. I saw it between my parents every day for the first fifteen years of my life. I know what it looks like.”

“Lucky you.”

He glanced down at his lap, and for the first time Toni realized that Logan had never told her about his family. She’d talked about hers—Logan had encouraged it and even seemed to crave her mundane stories. But the only thing she knew about his family situation was that his parents had divorced.

“Didn’t you recognize the love between your parents?” she asked. “Before they split up, I mean.”

“The love between my parents?” He chuckle was cynical and cold. “There was no love between my parents. They hated each other. The best decision they ever made was to get a divorce. I don’t know why they even got married in the first place.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? It’s not your fault they couldn’t get along. The blame for that lies on my bratty older brother.” His lips twisted slightly, and she figured he was joking. About which part, she wasn’t sure.

“What’s your brother like?”

“I hate him, so it doesn’t matter, does it?”

Toni couldn’t imagine hating a sibling. Her sister meant everything to her, and she missed Birdie terribly.

“Why do you hate him?”

Logan lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Why do you care? Is all of this going to end up in your book? Poor Logan has never been in love, you’ll write, and then you’ll offer up some sob story about a broken home and an irreconcilable feud between brothers.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” She didn’t know whether she should be hurt or angry that he thought she would betray him.

“Go ahead and include it. I might get some sympathy pussy out of the ordeal.”

Toni scowled. “You can be a real jerk when your feelings are hurt.”

“But I don’t have feelings. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

She shook her head at him. “I don’t believe it for a second.”

“All those loving things you claim I said? I only say things like that to get in your pants.”

Toni’s face went numb with shock. That couldn’t be true, could it?

“I say things like that to every girl I meet.”

“Hundreds of them,” she said dully.

“Exactly.”

She stared at him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the crease in his normally smooth forehead, and the way his eyes refused to meet hers.

“You’re lying.” She hoped.

“Why do you say that?”

“You can’t even look at me, Logan.” She touched his hand, surprised when instead of drawing away, he turned his hand over to clutch hers in an iron grip. “At least look at me while you break my heart.”

“I don’t want to break your heart, Toni.” He lifted her hand and pressed it into the center of his chest. His heart thudded against the back of her hand. “Not when seeing you upset breaks mine.”

And she wasn’t supposed to take those words as him having deep feelings for her? Maybe he simply wasn’t ready to admit how he felt. Or maybe she was thinking wishfully.

“I know you don’t like me to refer to you as a friend,” he said.

She cringed automatically. Her dislike was that obvious, was it?

“Hear me out, Toni.”

She nodded, resisting the urge to shield her delicate heart with her hand. As if that would help.

“All the relationships in my life have been fucked up. All of them except those with my friends. My friends have always been more like family to me than my actually family ever was. So when I call you friend, I don’t want you to take it lightly.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. She hadn’t realized he’d attached special meaning to the word. She’d assumed it was his way of forcing her to keep her distance, not his way of drawing her close.

“It’s not a marriage proposal either,” he added, giving her hand a squeeze.

She laughed hollowly, more from tension than any semblance of good humor. “I’m sorry for pressuring you.”

“You are?” He lifted his eyebrows at her, meeting her eyes now, making her heart thud and her belly quiver with just a stare.

“Uh, well, I’m sorry you didn’t react the way I’d hoped.” She bit her lip, searching his face for answers she didn’t find. “Are we still friends?”

“And lovers.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and the tension melted from her muscles. She took a steadying breath. He hadn’t dumped her. They were okay.

“So do you want to finish the interview,” he asked with an ornery grin, “or learn to appreciate anal sex?”

Her buttocks clenched automatically, causing her spine to lengthen and her to sit ramrod straight. Ram rod? He would not be ramming that rod up in there if she had any say in the matter.

He snorted at what must have been her most horrified expression.

“Interview it is,” he said, inclining his head in her direction.

Flustered, she touched her overly hot cheek with cool fingertips, tucked a poof of hair behind one ear, and then licked her lips. Okay, let’s see how he likes to be thrown off guard.

Knowing him, he’d probably relish every moment.

She pretended to read from her legal pad. “Rumor has it that anatomically correct robot prototypes have been crafted in the images of each member of Exodus End,” she said in her most professional voice. “Can you explain why there is so little going on in the pants of the Logan Schmidt model?”

He blinked and gaped at the wall.

“Uh, they ran out of android-making materials trying to generate a life-sized rendition of my love hammer,” he said.

Toni managed not to snort at his ridiculous euphemism, but just barely. “That’s not what I heard.”

“What did you hear? If you’ve forgotten the size of my pool noodle, I’d be happy to offer it up for your journalistic inspection.”

At this rate, she’d never keep her composure. But she was going to try.

She stared into his eyes and said, “I heard engineers feared that life as we know it would come to a standstill as all under-sexed women on the planet became addicted to your life-sized mechanical beaver cleaver—”

His bark of laughter startled her to silence. “Did you seriously just call it a beaver cleaver?”

“I’m sorry. Do you prefer yogurt cannon?” She tilted her head to peer at him over the top of the rim of her glasses. “Got it. Logan’s . . . yogurt . . . cannon,” she said as she wrote the words in the margin.

She waited until he stopped laughing before she continued.

“I also heard somewhere that you were the original lead singer for Exodus End; care to sing me a few lines?” She stared at him hopefully, her heart fluttering in her chest with romantic anticipation. She was dying to hear his singing voice.

“And who told you that? Was it Max? Because he seems to think understating his vocal talent earns him more compliments or something. I can’t sing. Never could. I have the harmonics of a drunken crow.”

“Prove it.”

He squawked out a few lines of their first-ever hit, “Rebel in You,” and he did indeed sound like a drunken crow. She was pretty sure he was singing horribly on purpose, but that didn’t stop her from cringing and covering her ears with both hands.

“So you see,” Logan said, “we needed Max whether I liked it or not.”

She blinked at him. “You didn’t want Max in the band?”

“I thought we were just fine with three members. I was fortunately outvoted by the other two, and we sought an additional band member.”

“Fortunately outvoted?”

“I was devastated at the time, but you’ve heard me sing. Do you think we would have been at all successful with me as a front man?”

She shrugged. There was no way to know for sure.

“There are those occasional instances in your life when you’re glad you’re proven wrong. I was wrong. We needed Max to make us a better band. But never tell him I said that.” He winked at her, and she smiled before glancing down at her notes. It was time for her to get a little silly just for fun.

“Are you ready for more questions?”

He recrossed his legs so his ankle rested on the opposite knee and leaned back against the cushions to get comfortable. “Shoot.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Seriously?”

She nodded, feigning extreme interest in his answer by holding her pen at the ready and staring at him as if on the edge of her seat.

“Pink,” he said.

She dropped her pen. “Pink?”

“It’s the color of your nipples.”

“Are you thinking about my boobs again?”

“I’m always thinking about your boobs.”

She slipped her hand under the sofa and pulled out what she expected to be her dropped pen, but what she'd grabbed was a lot longer, made of some flexible purple material, and slightly enlarged at one end.