Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4) (25 page)

His voice is heavy. Is he worried about me or about himself?

I keep my eyes on the pastel bedspread. "I'm not alone. Miles and Meg are here."

"You know what I mean."

I try to wait him out. Nothing. For a full minute, the room is filled only with the sound of our breath.

Finally, I break the silence. "Are you going to apologize?"

"I got carried away."

"That's not an apology."

"Come on, Jess." Frustration breaks through his calm voice. "We'll talk at home."

"At your home."

"It's our place."

"No, it's your place. I have a corner of a room. It's not even decorated with my stuff. It's still Tom's because you'll kick me out as soon as I stop being useful to you."

"If you want another room, you can have it. Decorate however you want. I don't care about that house."

"It's easy to offer things if you don't care about them." I pull the blanket tighter around my chest.

Pete leans closer. He brushes my hair behind my ears. "What do you want?"

I turn, so we're eye to eye. There's all this intention in his deep brown eyes, but I've got no clue what it is he's intending.

I swallow hard. My voice is a whisper. "You knew what you were doing."

His gaze goes to the blue light falling through the window. "I'm sorry if I led you on."

"There's no if."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Is that what you do when you forget your inhibitions—you call me baby?"

"It was dirty talk." His posture stiffens. "Didn't mean anything."

I push myself to a seated position. I need some semblance of power here. Even if being inches from him is doing things to my concentration. Damn body is fighting with my heart again. It doesn't need to respect itself in the morning. It doesn't care about anything but getting its satisfaction.

I allow myself a second to consider it. If it's all physical, if I use him to get
my
pleasure and give him nothing—

No. Even that won't work. I can't separate love and sex. Not with Pete. Not right now.

"You said you'd never lie to me." I stare into his eyes. "Don't start now."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Explain why you're playing with my feelings."

"I don't want to lead you on." He shifts off the bed.

"Do you love me?"

"No."

His voice is utterly to the point. He didn't even have to think about it.

"Are you falling in love with me?"

"This isn't going to be a relationship."

"That's not an answer."

"I'm not answering. It doesn't matter." His stoic facade breaks. For a second, his expression fills with vulnerability. He runs his hand through his hair. It's like the words are on the tip of his tongue. Like he's desperate to tell me how he feels. "This isn't going to be a relationship."

"Why can't it be a relationship?" I swallow hard. "You tell me things you don't tell anyone. You get carried away calling me baby. You have feelings for me too. Give me one good reason why you can't throw away that idea and let yourself fall in love with me."

"I can't."

That's it. He can't.

No. I shake my head. "Bullshit. You don't want to."

"Fine. I don't want to." He takes a step backwards.

"That's a choice you're making."

"Yeah."

"I can make choices too."

He stares back at me.

"I'm not going home with you tonight. That's my choice. I..." I thought I could trust him. I was wrong.

Pete holds strong. "They're gonna—"

"Miles already knows. He more or less told me." I smooth my skirt, but the gesture doesn't soothe me. "If they don't want me here, I'll take a cab somewhere. I'm not going home with you. Not tonight."

"You said you could handle this."

"You didn't mention that you'd lead me on." He certainly didn't mention that he'd be fucking perfect in every fucking way. "How do you expect me to feel when you hold me and whisper
you'll be okay
in my ear, with that sexy, reassuring voice?"

His expression hardens. "Fine. I'll see you tomorrow. What do you want me to tell them?"

"I don't care. You think of something."

He takes a step backwards. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

Yeah, but he's succeeding. "It's only another week until your brother's wedding. I'll be fine as long as you stop pretending."

"Pretending what?"

"That you care about me."

"Jess. I do—" He runs a hand through his hair. "Okay. You're right. It's better if we don't hang out for a while."

My stomach rises up in my throat. He's barely fighting this.

I manage to nod. Manage a poker face. "Glad we're on the same page. Have a safe drive."

"Call me if you need anything."

"I won't."

"But if you do. Promise." His expression is demanding.

I hate how much I want to reassure him. "Fine. Goodnight."

"You too."

His eyes cloud with frustration.

Still, he steps into the hallway. I can hear him at Miles's door, talking about something, then he's making his way down the stairs.

Then the front door slams shut.

And he's gone.

––––––––

M
eg and Miles go out of their way to convince me I'm not a third wheel. I claim a need to do homework away from my overwhelming attraction to Pete. Neither of them buys it, but they still leave me alone for most of the day.

I hang out in the guest room, getting ahead on my coursework. The wedding is in two weeks. I need to stay ahead of things if I want to keep the three day trip to Hawaii from derailing my studies.

I don't mind massive homework. Actually, I enjoy it. Not just because school makes sense, but because it's exciting. I already love law school. I love studying precedent. I love rearranging and twisting rules to fit my argument. And God how I love making arguments.

Sometime after sunset, Miles knocks on the door and steps into the guest room.

"As much as I'm impressed with you for getting a
rise
out of Pete, you should head home if you want to make your morning classes." He nods to the hallway. "We picked up dinner. You like sashimi?"

"I've never had it."

He smiles and calls downstairs. "Jess has never had sashimi."

Meg's shriek of delight pierces my ears. Damn, the girl is loud. She should be the singer.

Ugh. Singing. I try, hard, to push the memory away, but my brain refuses to cooperate. Instead, it replays Pete singing again and again and again.

My stomach tenses.

You're right. It's better if we don't hang out for a while.

Maybe some food will convince my stomach to shut up.

I power down my computer and follow Miles to the kitchen. He's a tall guy, but he only has an inch or two on Meg. She looks like a model—long legs, slim frame, dramatic features. If I didn't know better, I'd assume he was another celebrity who only cared about appearances and she was another wannabe actress who was using her sexuality to curry fame.

There's nothing fake about them. They're clearly in love.

He slides his arm around her waist and pushes her against the counter. His mouth goes to her neck. A moment later, she's groaning.

Okay, they're clearly in lust too.

"Miles, don't you think Pete teased her enough?" She can barely get the words out.

"Mhmm." He squeezes her then takes a step backwards. Miles turns to me with an apologetic look. "Always figured he was a tease."

I'm not entertaining this line of conversation. The two of them talk. A lot. I go with the first subject I remember. "So how about the new
Star Wars
movie?"

Meg screws her face in distaste. She shakes her head.

Miles chuckles. "She's still upset about Han and Leia getting divorced."

"They're the perfect couple." She sets the table and unboxes the takeout. "You should appreciate it. You're a scoundrel."

He smiles. "You're my princess, babe."

"Am I your princess or your babe?" she teases.

"Princess, you're a total babe." He presses his lips to hers.

It would be tacky to ask them to can the affection. I'm at their house. I'm enjoying their hospitality.

Still, I'm considering it.

Meg catches me watching and clears her throat. She takes a seat, motions for Miles to do the same.

He does.

Meg takes me through the different dining options—red-purple ahi tuna, soft coral salmon, firm ono, glassy fish eggs, octopus. I take one of everything. I'm about to drench a piece of salmon in soy sauce when she grabs my hand.

"Try it plain first. That way you can taste the flavor of the fish," she says.

"You're religious about this," Miles teases.

She shoots him an accusatory glance. "Every single server at Nobu knows your regular order."

"Only because you want to go every Saturday night."

"Nuh-uh."

He smiles and nods. His eyes fill with affection.

It's funny. I've never had a peek into what love really looks like. My parents never even liked each other. My high school friends were casual with their relationships—having fun, screwing around. Even our friendships were casual, surface level. I liked it better that way. I didn't have to worry about revealing too much.

I didn't know how deep love could go, how much another person could free you or tie you up in knots.

Again, my stomach clenches. I sample the salmon sashimi. It's a little soft but it's good. Fresh. I try dipping it in soy sauce, but I like it better plain. There's nothing hiding the flavor.

Then I think of Pete, and my stomach is in knots again.

I'll deal with my feelings later. Once I've held down dinner for an hour. I fill my plate with salmon sashimi, turn to Meg and Miles, and bring up science fiction films until I stumble on something that makes one of them gush.

Turns out it's
Jurassic Park.
Pete's favorite book. Exactly the topic that will help me not think about him.

***

A
fter a long, painful goodbye—Meg and Miles will be apart until Thursday evening—Meg gives me a ride back to Pete's place.

Mercifully, we converse only about local radio stations.

The drive goes quickly. She pulls into the driveway of the Hollywood place with a wistful sigh.

"There's a lot of memories here. It's a shame the label is finally kicking Sinful Serenade out," she says.

They are? I try not to let my surprise register. "Oh?"

She nods. "After Thanksgiving. Miles said it has something to do with that asshole manager. Aiden." She turns to me. "Are you and Pete looking for another place?"

"Uh..." Thanksgiving is well past our expiration date. No reason why he needed to tell me. I keep up my poker face. "I can't decide if I want to get an apartment close to school or if I want to find a place on the beach."

"Do the beach. Downtown is dead on the weekends and it's nearly as expensive as Santa Monica." Her gaze goes to the house. "You're from Long Island, right?"

I nod. "That means I have to love the beach and Billy Joel."

She laughs. "The guy who does
Piano Man?
"

"Exactly."

"Then definitely do the beach."

I allow myself a moment to fantasize about living on the beach with Pete, at some luxurious place like the one Miles has. The house doesn't matter to me. Just his arms, the sun, the sand, the crashing waves, his voice in my ear as he whispers
baby, I love you
.

I clear my throat. "I should get going. Early class."

She groans. "My first class is at eight." Her dramatic features soften as her expression fills with concern. "I'm terrible with relationship problems. The worst. But. Um. Pete's really hot."

I laugh. "So is Miles."

"Yes, but if you try to sleep with Miles, I'll have to kill you."

"Would you really?"

"In a hot second." She laughs with evil glee. "But I don't think you would. The way you look at the quiet bassist... You're smitten."

"I can't help it."

"Same thing happened to me." Her voice gets serious. "Pete... he really keeps things to himself. He and Miles, they're pretty close. I've gotten to know him. And he's... he's a really great guy. A great brother to Tom. A great friend to everybody. Whatever is happening, I'm sure he wouldn't hurt you on purpose."

"I know."

"Okay. Fuck guys. They're the worst." She turns to me. "And clothes—just as bad. Your dress is cute. You might not need help, but Kara and I are shopping next Sunday. For dresses for the wedding. We have our shit together, getting our dresses five days before we fly to Hawaii."

"We're grad students. We don't need to have our shit together."

"I like the way you think." She laughs. "You should come. On Sunday."

"Sure." Anything that will get me out of the house and away from Pete.

She claps her hands together. "Awesome. I'm sure, uh... Well, I don't think we'll need to worry about coordinating or anything. Since Drew is the maid of honor."

"He is?"

She laughs. "Yeah. He's cute about it." The joy falls off her expression. "I'm happy for Tom and Willow. Really. But... Not your problem. Nevermind."

"No. It's okay. I don't have any friends out here." I curse the desperation in my voice, but maybe it's okay to sound desperate if I'm being earnest. I want to stop bullshitting everyone all the time. "You're more than welcome to talk to me."

For a minute, Meg is silent. When she speaks, her voice is barely more than a whisper. "It can be hard, seeing all these close siblings who care about each other."

"My sister cheated with my ex-boyfriend."

"So you know the feeling."

"Yeah." I play with the strings of my backpack. "What about you?"

Her voice drops. "My sister overdosed last year. She's... gone."

"Oh. I—"

"You didn't know. You can't top an overdose. I always have the saddest sibling story."

I laugh. She has a really dark sense of humor. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't be. Laughing helps."

"You must miss her a lot."