Playing Games (28 page)

I glanced up.

Two girls were giggling, and one had her
phone out and was videotaping something in the distance.

"Go ask him for his autograph," another girl
whispered, and more giggling followed.

I craned my head, trying to see what they
were staring at. To my surprise, Liam Brogan, lead guitarist of
Finding Threnody
, was heading my way, a backpack slung over
one deliciously tattooed shoulder, his shaggy hair falling over his
brow, piercings gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the
airport windows.

And he was heading directly for me.

I got up from my seat as if in slow motion,
staring at him, drinking in his tall, delicious form, the dark
eyes, the wicked glint in his gaze, the sensual mouth that I loved
to kiss.

He ignored the girls filming him and the
stares he got, and came to stand right in front of me. His gaze
moved over my hair, and his mouth quirked into an amused grin. "No
pigtails?"

"I'm done with those for now."

"Shame," he said, and the word was so low and
husky that it made me quiver. "I kind of liked those."

I blushed. "You're still here? I'm kind of
surprised."

"Why? You never came to say goodbye."

My jaw dropped. "I…Brodie said—" I snapped my
mouth shut and groaned. "God, remind me never to listen to my
brother again." I rubbed my forehead, just thinking about the
headaches that came with being related to Brodie. "He told me
everyone else flew out hours ago."

"Not me," Liam said. "I was waiting to talk
to you, but you never came."

"It wasn't because I didn't want to," I told
him softly, and to my horror, my eyes filled with tears. "I just
thought that we were done because the race was done."

Liam's arms went around me, and he pulled me
closer. "Now when," he whispered huskily, "have I ever given you
that impression?"

My hands slid around his waist and I splayed
my fingers on his back, enjoying the play of muscles against my
hands as I stared up into his face. God, he was gorgeous. I could
eat him up with a spoon. No wonder all these girls were
ecstatically taping him. "But you're a big famous rock star and I'm
nobody."

"You're Katy Short," he said with a grin.
"Smart, determined wearer of pigtails and winner of The World
Races. And I happen to be in love with you."

My breath caught in my throat. "You are?"

"I am," he said, and leaned in to brush the
lightest of kisses over my mouth.

"I love you too," I breathed against his
lips.

And then he kissed me, harder, and I felt his
tongue swipe into my mouth and my knees went weak. This felt like a
dream.

He broke off the kiss and nuzzled me, his
hands sliding to my ass and cupping me against him. "So what are
your plans?"

"I have no idea," I told him honestly. "I
guess I see what a cash influx of five hundred grand can do for my
business."

"How about a vacation?"

I laughed at that. "You didn't get enough
travel in over the past few days?"

"I wasn’t thinking about traveling," he told
me, brushing a lock of stray hair off of my brow in a tender motion
that made my heart ache. "I was thinking you and me on a solitary
beach house for about a month or so. We can sleep late, eat meals
that aren't airport food, and pretend that the outside world
doesn't exist."

That sounded like heaven. My hands tightened
around his waist. "I'd love to, but don't you have rock star stuff
to do? Like go on tour?"

"Tour's over," he told me. "The band's
breaking up. Tesla actually just finished recording her first solo
album. The label just hasn't announced anything yet. They're
waiting for the show to air. It's all been agreed upon with the
network."

I gaped at him. "Your band broke up? Oh my
god, I'm so sorry."

"I'm not," he said bluntly, and he gave me a
grin that didn't seem unhappy at all. "Tesla was miserable to work
with and I have the connections now that I can do what I want. And
I like song-writing. So if I take six months off to just write a
bunch of songs, it's no big deal."

"It isn't?" I breathed the words, barely
daring to hope.

"Nope. And then," he shrugged. "We see where
it goes from there."

"What if it goes well?" I asked him. I
couldn't help myself.

He smiled. "Then we see if you want to move
to LA or I want to move to…where did you say you were from
again?"

I laughed. "Oklahoma."

He grimaced. "Okay. Or we see if I can move
to Oklahoma. Either way, I want to be with you." He leaned in
toward me again, his mouth hovering over mine, almost kissing. "If
you want to be with me."

"Always," I told him softly, and then pulled
back. "But I have two conditions."

His pierced eyebrow rose. "Oh?"

"One - no pretzels."

Liam laughed. "I think I can manage
that."

"And two, you're in charge of directions." I
grinned.

"I don't foresee that being a problem," he
told me, and his hands squeezed my ass. I heard the girls nearby
titter, no doubt catching every moment on their smartphones. I
didn't care. "So you want to be with me even though I'm not going
to be a big shot rock star anymore and just a songwriter?"

"I want to be with you always," I told him,
sliding my arms up and around his neck to pull him down to me in
another kiss. "I think this partnership has real, long-term
potential."

"I agree," he told me, and kissed me again.
"Best partner in the race."

"Best," I breathed against his lips.

And then we kissed all over again.

The End

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Jill Myles is the pen name for USA Today
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