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Authors: Lexxie Couper

Steady Beat (6 page)

BOOK: Steady Beat
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She lowered her head, smiling up at him from lowered lashes. On any other woman dressed in such short hot pants it would have shouted,
“Hey, wanna fuck me?”
But on Pepper, it only spoke of a shyness Noah already found entrancing.

Rising to his feet, he held out his hand. “Shall we, then?”

For a heartbeat, she didn’t move. Her gaze stayed fixed on his offered hand. And then, with a shaky breath, she slipped her fingers around his.

Noah couldn’t stop his grin. He liked the feel of her hand in his. He normally didn’t do handholding. His fingers liked to be free. To tap out a beat whenever needed, on whatever surface was around. Heather had often called him out about it, complaining he preferred fidgeting to holding her hand. He hadn’t disagreed. Which made the fact he still held Pepper’s hand as they exited the bar all the more surprising.

Almost as surprising at the blinding camera flashes detonating in their eyes on the street.

“Noah, Noah!” a strange voice shouted from behind the white explosion. “Over here.”

“Noah!” another called, more flashes firing. “Who’s your friend? Where’s Heather?”

“Noah!” a third shrieked. “Is Blackthorne here? Why was the band all together? Are you re-forming?”

Beside Noah, Pepper froze. He shot her a look, ignoring the paparazzi. He’d grown accustomed to their particular brand of annoying years ago.

Pepper however, was unprepared. She stared at the three photographers firing shot after shot, her eyes wide. Every time a flash bleached the night, she flinched. Every time she flinched, her grip on his hand grew tighter. Tighter.

Flash. Flinch. Squeeze.

Flash. Flinch. Squeeze.

Noah snared their joined hands with his free one, wriggling his thumb between her crushing grip. “Hey, hon. It’s okay. You need to let—”

Her stare jerked to his face, her expression terrified, like a rabbit trapped in the lights of an oncoming semitrailer. “I…I can’t…” She yanked her hand from his and stumbled back a step. “I can’t…”

Without another word, she turned and ran back into the bar.

Laughter brayed out from the paparazzi. “Who’s the chick, Noah?” one of them called. “She shy?”

“Heather know you’re here with another woman, Holden?”

There were more flashes. More shouted questions.

Noah turned his back on them, struck dumb by Pepper’s abrupt departure. Holy crap, she’d run away? From some photographers? Really?

“Oh, she left you alone? Silly girl.”

The husky voice purred in Noah’s left ear. He started, swinging around to find the four women who had been sitting at the table next to his in the bar. All four gazed at him with open hunger. All four preened and pouted with provocative promise. None seemed concerned with the frenzied paparazzi capturing their every movement.

The woman closest to Noah—a tall, lush brunette wearing skintight black leather pants and a silver boob tube—slid her hand up his arm, over his biceps to his shoulder, pushing her hips forward until her groin rubbed his hip. “We won’t run away,” she murmured, her lips curling into a seductive smile. “Promise.”

Noah stared down at her. His heart thumped fast. The camera flashes fired around him. His body thrummed.

His hand, so recently held by Pepper, tingled.

Tingled.

He sucked in a slow breath, taking in the brunette’s cloying perfume, the overpowering smell of her cosmetics, even as his mind taunted him with the memory of Pepper’s delicate scent. Flicking his gaze to the bar’s open door, he studied it for a second, his gut a heavy knot, his body aching.

Wanting…

He turned back to the brunette, snaked his arm around her hip and yanked her closer to his body. “Let’s go, ladies,” he said, loud enough for the paparazzi to hear. “There’s fucking to be done.”

 

Why the hell were her hands shaking so much? Oh, that’s right. She’d blown the biggest opportunity of her life a little under an hour ago.

Pepper bit back a curse, fixed her focus on the key in her fingers and, breath held, slid it into her apartment door’s lock. Finally. After ten failed attempts.

The subway trip back to her apartment had been a ball of fun. She’d sat on a bench, head down, hugging her elbows, hating herself. Hating.

Damn it, she’d run away. Not just from Noah Holden, but from…from…
life
. The walk from the station to her building had been just as enjoyable. With every hurried step, she’d not only replayed the incredible kiss she’d shared with Noah, she’d replayed his stunned shock as she fled into the bar.

Now here she was, home, and all she wanted to do was lock herself in her room and wish she could become someone else.

“If wishes were horses, chickpea,” she muttered one of her dad’s favourite sayings. Still, the dull ache in her stomach didn’t go away. Nor did she feel better.

She twisted the key in the lock, let herself into her apartment and then stumbled to a halt at the vision greeting her.

“Shit,” she choked out at the sight of her roommate’s mouth sliding up the hitching six-pack of his current object of affection. Averting her eyes, she fought to jerk her key from the lock. “Sorry, Frank.”

“Fuck,” Frank’s main squeeze burst out.

“Pepper,” Frank’s honey-smooth voice reverberated across the living area. “Don’t sweat it. We’re not worried. How was work?”

“Okay,” Pepper mumbled into her chest, shoving her keys back into her tote. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

She rushed into her bedroom, face on fire, and threw herself at her bed.

The sound of footfalls on the floor made her groan.

“Okay, Peps.” Frank dropped onto the bed beside her ankles, giving her butt a soft slap, “what’s going on? You’ve seen worse than that since we’ve been sharing an apartment. Why are you so skittish?”

Pressing her face into the silk of her duvet, Pepper ground her teeth. “I hate being me.”

“Oh, this sounds serious.” Frank swatted her butt once again. She’d shared an apartment with him for five years, and next to her father, he was the only person she never felt shy around. It may have had something to do with how outrageously flamboyant he was, how infectious his exuberance for life, how little he cared about public opinion. He was gay, an English literature high school teacher and an animal-rights activist. When Pepper was with him, she didn’t have any chance to be shy. He wouldn’t let her.

“It
is
serious,” she mumbled into the bed covering. “I suck.”

“Honey, how
could
you hate yourself? You’re kind, intelligent, brilliant at being organized, stunning to look at and oh baby, your voice. What’s got you so down on yourself?”

Pepper threw herself onto her back and glared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. “I just blew a major opportunity because I’m so freaking
shy
.”

“Ahh, this again.” Frank gave her a sympathetic smile. “Peps, it’s okay to be shy. Not everyone can be like me.”

She didn’t laugh at his attempt to soothe her with humour. Instead, she blew at her bangs and glared harder at the ceiling. “I fail at everything because I’m shy, Frank. How is that okay?”

“What did you fail at tonight? Serving drinks at Rupert’s? Not possible to fail at that. Rupert tells me you’re the best waitress he has. No one’s ever complained about you, you make buckets in tips and you’re happy to work overtime.”

Pepper shook her head. “It wasn’t serving drinks. Although Rupert told me tonight I wasn’t his best waitress.”

Frank tuttered. “He’s not going to tell you that to your face, honey. But enough of trying to dodge the issue here. What did you
fail
at tonight?”

Hitching herself up onto her elbows, Pepper gave Frank a frazzled sigh. “Nick Blackthorne’s band was in the bar.”

Frank’s eyes widened. He let out a long whistle. “God, wish I was there. Those men are serious eye candy. What did you do? Spill a drink on one of them?”

“No, I convinced the drummer to let me audition as their new lead singer.”

Frank’s mouth fell open.

“And we kissed.”

Frank’s eyebrows shot up his seamless forehead. “And this is a failure because?”

Pepper slumped back on the bed and resumed glaring at her ceiling. “Because when we walked out of the bar the paparazzi were there. They started taking photos of us, yelling at us, and I bolted back into the bar like a goddamn chicken.”

Silenced stretched in the room for so long Pepper shucked herself up onto her elbows again to frown at her roommate.

He shook his head at her. “I don’t know what to comment on first.”

Pepper snorted, dropping back to the mattress. “I so wanted this, Frank. You know how much. The closest I ever got to living my dream was when I managed Black Toad Dare, and I failed at that as well.”

“They hit the indie charts because of you, honey. Your skills launched them above all the other generic grunge-rock garage bands. And then they dropped you like a hot potato for some Ferrari-driving prick,” Frank pointed out, his fingers plucking at the laces of her boots, “after which
they
were never heard from again. You didn’t fail with them, Pepper. They failed you, by not listening to your brilliance. Why you didn’t sing with them still confuses me. You could have kept them on the right track at the same time as wowing the world with your voice. But this is not important right now and has nothing to do with Nick Blackthorne’s band. Nor kissing its drummer. Who kissed who?”

Pepper rolled her eyes and pulled herself upright to hug her knees to her chest. “Can you be serious for a moment, Frank. I blew my chance at auditioning for Nick Blackthorne’s band. That’s more important than a kiss.”

Frank shook his head. “No way. A kiss tells you everything. How did the drummer kiss you? A peck? A chaste smooch?”

Heat flooded Pepper’s cheeks.

“Ah-ha.” Frank smirked. “Was this before or after he agreed to let you audition? And by the way, oh my God. You’re going to replace Nick Blackthorne. Way to bust out, baby.”

Pepper scrunched up her face and shook her head. “I’m not replacing Nick Blackthorne, I’m auditioning, that’s all. And after the way I behaved tonight, it’s unlikely I’m doing that. And even if I did, I’d probably choke and fail.”

Frank cocked an eyebrow. “The kiss, Peps. When did the kiss take place? Before or after he agreed you could audition?”

“After.”

“So he agreed to hear you sing.”

Pepper nodded.

“And then kissed you.”

Pepper nodded again.

“With tongue?”

“Frank!”

Triumph beamed from Frank’s face. “With tongue. See? He wants to hear you sing. I guarantee he will call. I take it he has your number?”

“But I ran away.”

Frank scowled at her. “Honey, you are gorgeous, and I will bet a month’s rent he won’t let you slip away. Especially after kissing those lush lips of yours.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “I would kill for lips like yours. If only I were straight, I’d be kissing those lips of yours every—”

Pepper’s cell phone burst into life, which saved her from shoving a pillow over Frank’s face to shut him up.

Reaching for her tote, she withdrew the trilling thing from its depths and looked at the screen.

And gasped.

In a blur, Frank snatched her cell from her loose grip. “Drummer Boy? Is it him?”

Pepper’s mouth grew dry. She nodded.

Frank crowed with laughter. “See? See? The kiss reveals all.” He held her phone out to her. “Answer it, honey. Before I do.”

Hand shaking, Pepper took it from his fingers, swiped her thumb over the screen and raised it to her ear. “Hello?”

“You don’t like having your photo taken, eh?”

Her heart skipped a beat as Noah’s deep, smooth voice slipped into her ear. “I’m not good with…I’m…” She dragged her fingers through her hair and let out another sigh. “Why are you calling me?”

“I thought you’d like to know where to go tomorrow.”

“For what?”

If he said sex, she wouldn’t be able to say no. She may have lost her chance to sing, but at the sound of his voice, her body was doing an awesome job of reminding her how amazing his kiss was. How incredible it was to be kissed by him.

Instead, he laughed and said, “The audition.”

Pepper’s heart slammed into her throat. “Really?”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

Heat prickled up the back of her neck. “Because I ran away when the paparazzi took photos of us.”

“Hell.” His warm laughter made her tummy clench. “I damn near threw up the first time I appeared on TV. Nick, Strings and I were playing live on a breakfast show in Australia. The host decided to do an impromptu interview after the performance and I thought I was going to bring up my cornflakes on national telly. Cameras are scary, especially when you’re not prepared for them. But there’ll be no cameras at the audition tomorrow. Promise. Reckon you can be at the Loft on Wooster, in SoHo by ten a.m.?”

Her heart thumping so hard in her ears she could barely see straight, Pepper shook her head. And then flinched when Frank slapped her leg and mouthed,
“He can’t see you.”

BOOK: Steady Beat
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