Rock God (Hearts of Metal Book 3) (9 page)

***

Dante waited a few minutes until he was certain Shayna was safe in her room before he went up to his own. It took a cold shower to get rid of his erection, but the damn thing returned as soon as he got into bed and grabbed a book off the nightstand. Had he somehow turned into a mindless adolescent?

He reached down to take care of it but stopped as a vision of his houseguest flashed through his imagination. The thought of masturbating with Shayna sleeping peacefully in the next room made him feel sordid, even more so because she would be the star of his fantasy.

He’d seen she was interested, but seducing her, which no doubt would be easy in her vulnerable state, would
not
be helping her. No, having sex with her, as tempting as it was, would not be a good idea. But that didn’t stop him from having the most erotic dreams of his life. They were so real he could almost still smell the perfume of Shayna’s arousal and hear her soft moans of pleasure when he awoke.

Chapter Seven

Two weeks later, Shayna was half amazed she still resided with Dante. But only half. This was the life.

She floated in his pool, luxuriating in the feel of the cool water against her skin. After days of resting and reading, her feet felt almost good as new. Too bad her emotions were still raw and jumbled. While nothing else had happened, she couldn’t stop remembering her second night here, when Dante had almost kissed her. She had lain awake all that night, his words playing over and over again in her head.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Shayna, you know that?”

Then he’d left. And while the exquisitely sensual dreams she’d had that night were worthy of one of her romance novels, the following morning he regarded her over the breakfast table with squinting, bloodshot eyes.

“I didn’t do anything last night that I need to apologize for, did I?”

“No,” she’d answered, but her inner voice had whispered,
Yes! You didn’t kiss me!

“Good,” he’d replied with a look of profound relief on his face. And then he’d returned to being the perfect gentleman caretaker. “How are your feet?”

He had insisted on changing her bandages for the first week, until she no longer needed them. To be honest, she enjoyed his touch more than was healthy. She couldn’t tell which she liked more, his soft touch soothing her wounds or the gentle strength and feel of his warm hard body as he helped her up the stairs—or caught her when she had a dizzy spell. And she couldn’t get the fantasy of his sculpted lips on hers out of her mind.

True, he was a little bossy, especially with his stubborn insistence that she eat as much as she could at every meal, or ordering her to go rest if she so much as yawned, but at least last week he’d asked nicely instead of commanding that she extend her stay a little longer. He’d ultimately been an utter angel to her, providing her with a healing haven. He’d gotten her a notebook to write in, books, and even a phone—a fancy Android that he’d tacked on to his own plan. She’d almost broken down and told him that her kind of writing required her own computer, but she’d clammed up at the last second. For some reason she still didn’t want him to know that she wrote romances. Maybe because she never would again.

While Dante worked on his songwriting in his studio, Shayna binge-watched movies on Netflix on the huge TV he’d set up in her room. Every once in a while, she cast a nervous glance at the notebook, as sometimes writing freehand helped her when she was stuck, but instead of grabbing a pen, she always went back to a movie. Or her thoughts went to her rescuer.

Despite all the comforts Dante provided, she found herself craving his company most of all. She found herself counting down the hours until he came back upstairs and ate dinner with her, and then sometimes they’d have a few drinks in the bar while he talked about his songwriting process. His presence was so amicable that it was hard to believe he was a famous heavy metal rock star. He wasn’t arrogant or wild like the usual stereotype. He didn’t seem to do drugs or throw wild parties. However, he
was
sexy as hell. And his voice… Oh God, his voice. She’d downloaded all of his albums on her new phone and listened to them whenever he was away.

Dante’s music stirred something within her, and she wondered if it included her creativity. Her eyes strayed more and more to the notebook as she listened. If she picked it up, could she get something down?
Just one paragraph,
one of her voices often prodded.
Hell, even a sentence!

She’d reached for it once. Stared at the immaculate lined paper for an eternity. Then she’d thrown it on the floor and hobbled downstairs to get a snack.

At least she’d finally mustered her courage and updated her author pages on social media, giving a brief explanation of her divorce and that she was staying with a friend, recovering. The revelations made sense, as she’d been rather honest with her readers from the outset, not thinking to create a lot of personal space for herself. But the subsequent questions and demands from them filled her with impotent frustration, so this morning she’d set her phone aside and headed out to the pool. She’d had no idea so many of them would care so much. She wasn’t even a big name! Regardless, she didn’t know what to say to them.

Shayna dove off her inflatable raft. She loved swimming: Gliding through the water with no need for a destination, or floating weightless on her back, looking up at the clouds, cleared her mind and relaxed her battered muscles.

The sliding-glass door opened, and she heard Dante come outside, done for the day from working on lyrics. “I’m sick of eating at home. What do you say we go out to Sal’s for some Italian? You can wear that blue dress I bought you.”

Water closed over her head. She came up spluttering. “Okay,” she managed.

He was taking her out to dinner…in public? Sure, it wasn’t a date, but it would look like one, and on some crazy level of her subconscious it would feel like one too.

“Great!” he said, oblivious to her spinning mind. Sunlight glinted on his hair. “We’ll go in an hour. I hope you’re hungry. Their pasta is incredible.”

After Dante went back inside, Shayna clambered out of the pool as if it were boiling. She suddenly felt as if she were back in high school—only, in her case, the popular guy had never asked her out.

Dante hadn’t given any indication that he thought of her in that way since the night he got drunk and almost kissed her. Now he was taking her on a date?

No. It wasn’t really a date. They were just getting pasta.

Briskly she toweled off and walked inside as fast as her tender feet would allow; they were still a little sore, although the blisters were almost completely vanished. She showered in record time and changed into the blue dress, grateful for the low-heeled shoes with cushioned gel inserts. Dante had thought of everything.

Wanting to do him justice, she lingered on her makeup, struggling to get the eye shadow and lipstick just right.

Afterward, she surveyed her reflection, pleasantly surprised. Her long walk had definitely taken all of her baby weight, but her full meals at Dante’s house had filled her back out a little, leaving her looking svelte—or maybe it was just the dress? She shook her head in wonder. The dress was a gift from God. It somehow made her breasts look much larger than her modest B-cup, and her legs seemed to go on forever, which was an impossible feat for a woman of her height.

It was too bad she couldn’t do anything with her hair, since Dante had neglected to get any pins or clips. Still, it had grown out since Shawn first suggested she cut it short. Now it swept down her shoulders in a, dare she say, flirty manner? The only thing missing was a purse, so she stuck her ID and debit cards in her bra, not wanting to shove her whole wallet in there.

Dante knocked on the door. “Are you ready yet? I’m starving.”

“Just a minute!” she called, seizing the bottle of perfume the ladies at the department store had chosen, praying it didn’t smell awful. A cautious sniff revealed a subtle honeysuckle scent that was to die for. She hadn’t smelled honeysuckle since her childhood in Montana. Those sales girls deserved a raise.

When she opened the door, Dante stood there with the most gratifying stunned look on his face. Shayna forced a small smile to hold back the triumphant grin that longed to come out, until she noticed how gorgeous and elegant he himself looked in his navy dinner jacket. Then she was just as stunned. Had a more beautiful man ever walked the earth?

“Wow,” he said softly. “Maybe I should have called my bodyguards.”

Shayna giggled at his words until the reality sank in. “Wait, the paparazzi aren’t going to be there, are they?”

Dante laughed. “Probably not. They usually stick to the rappers and pop stars and leave us metal-heads alone.” He shook his head. “It’s almost a shame, since you look so ready for the red carpet. Well, shall we?”

He held out his arm, and with heated cheeks she took his arm. They descended the stairs. Dante led her out into the garage, and Shayna realized she’d never seen what he drove; she’d always been upstairs when he left for meetings and errands. Instead of the expected sports car or Hummer, it was a Honda Pilot—albeit a luxurious one. At least she’d imagined the color right. It was black, and tinted to the point where it was barely legal.

During the drive, he commented on the metal songs playing on the radio station he’d chosen: “That guy’s good, but he’s an asshole.” “These guys can’t play a tune to save their lives, but they’re good people.” “These guys are going places.” Then, “Hey, it’s one of my old ones!”

He cranked the volume and sang along with his gorgeous voice, and Shayna tried to absorb the surreal experience of being in the company of someone who lived and breathed music. It was incredibly surreal.

There were no paparazzi awaiting when they arrived at the restaurant, but the valet and the server were suitably star-struck enough to make up for it. Dante flashed his devastating smile at everybody, including Shayna.

She hoped her stomach would settle enough for her to eat.

***

“It’s good to be out of the house finally,” Dante said, pretending not to notice Shayna’s nervous trembling. He’d begun his plan to ease her back into the world as she recovered from her grief. Maybe once she was out and about she’d give him more insight about her interests and what she wanted out of life. This simple dinner at a nice restaurant would be a good start.

Or, it would be if she didn’t look so damn beautiful, tempting him to take her back home and to his bedroom. That dress had appeared modest on the rack, but now, molded to her curves, the garment transformed into a vessel of temptation. He cursed inwardly as his eyes strayed back to her cleavage.

He had fought an endless struggle not to think of her sexually since that drunken night. The dreams he’d had were so realistic that he’d actually had to ask her the next morning if anything happened. Now, with her looking so seductive, if he didn’t keep control of himself, something
would
happen.

“Oh, my God.” She interrupted his thoughts, staring at the menu with wide, nervous eyes. “This place is
really
expensive.”

Dante hid a smile. “Maybe I should have bought that sapphire necklace,” he teased.

That entrancing blush returned, and she hid her face with the menu. Still, her beauty speared him, and Dante suddenly felt transported back to the days before his career had jaded his romantic life. Although it couldn’t go any further than a good meal in her company, he vowed to enjoy the evening to the fullest.

And it
was
an enjoyable evening. Shayna closed her eyes in sheer bliss as she ate her clam linguine and nibbled on garlic bread. In between bites of his manicotti, Dante asked her about which books from his library she’d enjoyed, and that quickly turned into a fascinating conversation about the English civil war in the 10th century.

“You seem to know a lot about the subject,” he said. “Maybe you should be a history teacher.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she laughed. “I’m too shy.”

Dante only half heard. A woman from two tables down approached with a familiar fanatical gleam in her eye. Another autograph-seeker. Normally he didn’t mind this sort of thing, but tonight he resented the interruption.

“Oh no,” Dante said, pasting a smile on his face. “I’m really sorry about this.”

“What?” Shayna asked, looking up from her plate.

Before he could explain, the woman descended. Dante retrieved a pen from his pocket, ready to sign an autograph and prayed she’d depart when she got it.

“Excuse me,” the woman said in a breathy, star-struck voice. She looked at Shayna and ignored Dante. “Are you Shayna Gray?”

Dante blinked. What was this? Her driver’s license had said Jones.

Shayna’s eyes widened like a deer in headlights, but she nodded and answered. “I am.”

“Omigod!” the woman squealed. “I’m almost done reading
The Duke’s Deception
, and I love it! It’s even better than
The Duke’s Quest
. I just knew Nathaniel would redeem himself!”

“Thanks,” Shayna said with a shy smile.

“Does Dirk get a story?” the fan gushed. “Because I’d totally like to see him end up with Jenna. And what happens with Aria? Whatever happened with the King’s decree?”

Shayna looked down at her food. Was that shame on her face? “I don’t know yet. I’m, um, still working on that one.”

The fan nodded happily and pulled a book from her purse. “This is so cool! Could you sign this?”

Dante took the book from the woman, eyes wide at the sight of a couple in medieval garb in a passionate embrace—and the name Shayna Gray below the title.

“May I see that a moment?” he asked belatedly as he flipped to the inside of the back cover and saw Shayna’s picture smiling back at him. Reeling in shock, he turned the book over.
“A hypnotic journey,”
the
Chronicle Review
declared.

“Sure,” the woman said uncertainly. “Hey, is this your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I am,” Dante replied, handing
The Duke’s Deception
to Shayna along with his pen. If she was going to tell lies, he could tell a few of his own.