NicenEasy

Lynne
Connolly

Nightstar, Book 3

Heart-stoppingly sexy Donovan
Harvey, bassist for Murder City Ravens, is also a writer. At his first fantasy
convention, he wants to launch his new book, not find the love of his life. He
gets both.

Allie, unabashed fan and book
editor, can’t believe she’s locking lips with the bassist for the hottest band
ever, but sometime during their first searingly hot encounter she discovers
Donovan the man, not the rock musician, and she’s even more smitten.

They can’t get enough of each
other. In the shower, against the wall, even in bed, Donovan talks during sex,
leading Allie through erotic fantasies, presenting her with scenarios she can’t
resist, setting her alight with steamy stories he’ll never share with anyone
else. She inspires him. He gives her ideas.

But Murder City Ravens is on a
world tour, and Allie needs to stay in New York if she’s to make a success of
her career. When her company asks her to poach Donovan from his current
publisher, Allie hesitates, but her boss makes it impossible for her to refuse
without losing her job.

A
Romantica®
contemporary erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Allie shot a startled glance at the man at the bar, then
looked away again as quickly as she could, only to encounter her boss’s knowing
grin. “You recognize him?” Nancy asked with a raise of one well-shaped brow.

“I-I think so. What’s he doing here?” She risked a glance
back at the man, who had turned around to face the mirror behind the hotel bar.
Between the bottles of triple sec and brightly colored liqueurs, she could make
out his features—clean-cut, blurred by a beard line of stubble, startling
light-gray eyes, lanky frame. Yes, it was him.

One of their authors stared at the man at the bar with frank
interest. “Well, he’s damn sexy, but who is he?”

Allie refrained from rolling her eyes. How could the woman
not know? They’d been all over the media lately. “He plays bass for Murder City
Ravens.”

“Ohhh,” Helen said. “British band. Yum. A gorgeous body and
an accent too.”

Allie mentally reached for her patience. “They’re not all
British. Two British, one Swedish and three American. Hottest band around.
Innovative, exciting, different. You can’t put Murder City Ravens in a box,
although the nearest is probably rock band.” She leaned forward and lowered her
voice. “That guy over there is Donovan Harvey. Gorgeous.”

Nancy wagged a finger in mock admonishment. “Oho. So we have
fantasies about him, do we?”

Allie found her drink and took a healthy sip of the
bright-pink concoction, draining the glass. “Sometimes.” That was all she’d
admit to in present company. In fact, she’d melted the moment she’d seen
Donovan Harvey on TV. As if she were a teenager with her first crush, she’d
imagined him doing the things they sang about in
She’s So Sexy
. That
would remain a guilty secret, one she shared only with her B.O.B. Which she’d
left at home because she was here to work, not play.

“Not a bad thing, considering I can’t remember seeing you
with a man,” Nancy said.

Allie growled, irritated by the comment. “Like I’m a recluse
or something? I decided on a break from men for a while, that’s all.”

“So end your break now, girlfriend.” Nancy gave her a nudge.
“Go talk to him.”

“They don’t like all that fangirl stuff.” She wouldn’t get
far with Donovan Harvey if she tried that. “I’m one of your greatest fans” was
a surefire way of persuading him to walk away. She knew that because she’d gone
on the internet and downloaded every interview she could find, telling herself
that she just didn’t have time for a real man right now and a fantasy would
work for the time being. “Maybe he’s just staying at the hotel. If they’re
playing San Fran, he might not like where he’s staying.”

Nancy showed her disbelief with a scoffing laugh. “As if.
This place has been fully booked for two months now. The convention hasn’t been
to California for years, and the fans are crazy for it.”

Allie tore her gaze away from the sexy man at the bar to
take in the other occupants. Some had broken out the costumes already, and
aliens, fairies and superheroes packed the place. “You think they’d wait for
the ball on Saturday.” She needed a distraction, something to take her mind and
her body away from staring at the man at the bar.

Nancy shrugged. “Probably last year’s costumes.” She eyed a
green-horned alien. “After all, where else are they going to wear them?” Nancy
had attended the convention before but Allie had never been to anything like
this. She loved the fun and the atmosphere, didn’t know if she liked the
frenetic schedule. Nancy leaned closer. “Want to pop your convention cherry? Go
talk to the guy. Maybe… You know.” She waggled her hand, indicating doubt.

“No need to tell him you know who he is. Don’t go fangirl on
him. He’s sitting at the bar having a quiet drink, so my guess is he doesn’t
want anyone to recognize him. Maybe he’s a fantasy fan, maybe he reads books
and comics on the road and he wants to see the con for himself. Go order
another round of drinks. Charge them to our room. Don’t come back.” She made a
shooing motion. “Go, baby girl. If you don’t get back to our room tonight, I
won’t ask questions. Be sure to stand close to him when you order, you hear?”
She flicked back a swathe of her long blonde hair and smiled sympathetically
before pulling out her phone, no doubt to check on him now she knew his name.

Allie took a deep breath, mustering her courage and shoving
the teenage fan inside her right to the back of her mind. Yes, she should go,
if only to get Donovan Harvey out of her dreams. He might turn out a real shit,
and that would kill her fantasies stone dead. Good thing too. Time she shook
off this immature obsession.

Allie knew how stupid quailing at the thought of facing one
of her idols was. She encountered people, authors others would die to meet, on
a daily basis. Her company had sent her here to look after one and get some
convention experience, but meeting him tomorrow held none of the terror she
felt now. One thing to deal with people for the job, another to try to act cool
in front of somebody who turned her sex to molten heat.

Taking the three empty cocktail glasses, she headed for the
bar, trying to ignore her shaking knees. The trouble was, the closer she got to
Donovan Harvey, the more delectable he became. His long limbs wrapped around
his chair as he leaned against the bar behind him and defiantly surveyed the
room, chin up, daring someone to say something. She could have told him he was
safer here than most other places. If he didn’t create fantasy games, appear in
fantasy films or write fantasy novels, most of the attendees crammed in the bar
tonight wouldn’t give a flying fuck about him.

The bar was three deep with people trying to get served.
Conversation was growing louder, a sign that some of the participants had let
their excitement blend with their alcohol consumption, sending them hyper. She
should be drinking this experience in, but somehow all her concentration homed
in on one person right now. She squeezed next to him, giving him an apologetic
smile.

His arm, corded with muscle, felt hard against hers and his
scent, a mixture of a light cologne and him, male, musky and intensely
exciting, seeped through her system, past any stupid barriers she might have
considered putting up. Right into her heart.

Dumping the glasses on the bar, Allie tried to catch the eye
of one of the bar staff who was frantically keeping pace with the orders yelled
at them. She dared another look at him. He was watching her, pale eyes amused,
a slight smile tilting the corners of his mouth. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s a bit
crowded, isn’t it?”

“I’ve known worse.”

The British accent, lazily drawled, flowed through her.
She’d heard it before, of course, when she searched for interviews on the music
video channel, but up close it had a burr that drew her right in. He surveyed
her, eyes alert, watching for something. She took a guess that he was waiting
to see whether she recognized him and knew he wouldn’t like it if she did.
“You’re not here for the convention, are you?”

“What makes you think that?” His gaze turned from mild
interest to full attention and she blinked, temporarily blocking out the
intensity that shot through her with the force of an electric shock. A flash of
fire streaked through her, heating her to readiness in an instant. This was no
schoolgirl crush. It was full-on lust.

Suppressing a gasp of shock, she fought for control and a
suitable reply. What had he said? Oh yes. “You’re not dressed up or shouting
about
Star Trek
’s third series and why it’s better than the fourth. Or
vice versa.”

He glanced around then back at her, still smiling. “No I’m
not. But I am here for the convention.” He swung around on his stool so he had
his back to the crowd. It gave her the illusion of intimacy, as if he wanted to
talk to her alone. Maybe he was good at doing that, but he didn’t have to be.
Women flocked to him anyway.

“You like fantasy stories?”

His smile widened and a tidal wave surged inside her,
playing havoc with her senses. He seemed oblivious to all this and merely
answered her. “I do. I’ve enjoyed it for years. I’ve even written one.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re here to find a publisher?”

He shook his head. “I have one. I’m here to promote it.”

Oh. My. God.
Donovan Harvey had a book out? How cool
was that?

Questions raced through her head. What would happen when
word spread? Why didn’t he want to advertise his presence? He could have the
full Monty—promotion, the VIP table, workshops, appearances, anything, but
she’d heard nothing of any of that. He sat here on his own, not surrounded by
an entourage, as most of the stars at the cons tended to have. Not to mention
rock stars.

“What’s the name of your book?”

“
Struck By Stardust
.”

“That’s a great title. Who’s publishing it?”

“Edsel Press.”

Small but respectable. She couldn’t help wondering why he
hadn’t gone with the bigger presses. They’d snap him up and then, if the book
wasn’t right, they’d get it ghosted because of who he was. Eminently bankable
right now. “What’s your name?”

“Donovan.”

“I’m Allie.”

“Hi, Allie.”

She gave a silly grin. “Hi, Donovan.”

“You’re British,” he said.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that?” She smiled again, nervous but
hanging in there. “Actually I’m not. I guess I picked it up from you. I’m an
army brat, went to school in England and sometimes it comes out.”
Stop
babbling, you idiot.

“I see. Nice to meet you, Allie.”

A thought occurred to her. Maybe he didn’t want a ghost and
the star package. Maybe that explained why he sat here alone. “Is this your
first fantasy convention?”

He smiled and that wave inside her, which had quieted to a
manageable ripple, welled up again. She had the hots for him, wanted this man.
She forced herself not to fidget. “So you’re launching it here?”

“This is part of the launch, yes. Actually, it came out last
month, and it’s doing a lot better than expected.”

Well, duh.
So if this book was on the shelves, how
come the fans hadn’t come running? “Are you writing any more?”

A wary look came into his eyes. “If this one takes off,
maybe. They’re illustrated novels, and I draw the pictures as well.”

“Oh wow. That’s really hot right now. Comic books and
illustrations I mean.” She looked away, embarrassed. Where was her cool?

Over the hubbub of the crowd, she distinctly heard him say,
“I think you’re really hot too. How about I take you for dinner?”

That broke into her mood and she burst out laughing. “At
11:00 p.m.? Isn’t it a bit late for dinner?” Probably not for rock stars. “I
ate hours ago.”

He grinned. “Sorry. My internal clock is out of sync, I
guess. And it was a way of getting you out of this chaos.” He leaned closer and
her senses swam. Her adulation for his band and music melted away. All she
wanted now was him, this gorgeous man. She resisted the urge to squirm, to ease
the wetness gathering between her thighs. Forced a semblance of civilization.
“I’ve done everything I need for tonight, but I’d like to talk to you somewhere
we don’t have to shout.” That was true enough. She should tell him she knew who
he was, but what the fuck? He’d leave and then she’d only see him at a
distance. Much as questions about the band and the music crowded her mind, she
wanted to talk to him about anything. Wanted to breathe in his essence, watch
him smile, listen to that lyrical voice.

More people arrived and swelled the already crowded bar.
They’d probably come from a pre-convention meeting, since they all arrived at
once and wore buttons and badges, if not full costumes. Someone jolted Donovan
and he lost his balance, putting out his hands and grabbing her before
steadying himself against the bar. Ignoring the muttered, “Sorry, man,” from
the culprit, he snatched a kiss in a gesture so fast she’d have missed it if he
hadn’t left her lips tingling from the impact.

So a hot man kissed her. So what?

Telling herself that didn’t work. The hot man was Donovan
Harvey, he of the British swagger and amazing guitar skills. What he could do
with those fingers! She didn’t dare imagine, but heat pushed deep inside her
and she wanted more.

In any case, he didn’t give her time. Grabbing her hand, he
tugged her away from the bar and in the direction of the door. Nearly there,
she planted her feet on the floor. Starstruck, yes. Pushover, no. Well, not
completely. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we can talk. There’s a smaller bar on the fifth
floor. We can probably get served there.”

She couldn’t remember seeing a bar, but she’d take his word
for it. He held her hand until the elevator arrived, seemingly not noticing
that he still retained it. Warmth suffused her, and a sense of helplessness she
didn’t feel very often, something she could learn to savor in the right
quantity and situation.
This
situation.

He was right and wrong. There was a bar on the fifth floor,
but it was closed, the lights out, nobody home. He gave her a wry smile.
“Sorry. I suppose that’s why the one downstairs is so full.”

“I love your accent,” she said before she thought out what
she was saying. It just came out. “Real English. Mine is a kind of hybrid.”

He drew closer. “You do? What could I persuade you to do if
I carry on talking?” He tugged on her hand and she went, letting their bodies
touch, just barely. “Another kiss?”

She feigned surprise. “What, you kissed me?”

He laughed, a long, low rolling chuckle. “Maybe I should
make sure you recognize this one.” Dragging her against his chest, he banded
one arm around her and bent his head.

He took her mouth with an instant thoroughness, as if he
knew what she liked and how she liked it. Shocking, to realize that nobody had
kissed her properly in her life before. Because nothing compared to Donovan
Harvey’s kiss. She opened her mouth and immediately he took possession,
sweeping in to stroke her lips, her teeth, the roof of her mouth and then her
tongue, caressing it with the same gentleness as he was rubbing her back with
the palm of one hand, fingers outspread, making her feel fragile and cared for.