Rockstar Romeo - Abbie Zanders Page 0,3

the way a kitchen appliance worked to a moron.

In a flash of insight, I realized that such acceptance usually came from life experience. I wondered who the dickhead was that had done a number on her. Probably a musician, like me. It would explain a lot, including why she preferred hiding in the shadows and letting Ross take all the credit.

“Of course,” she continued, “I suppose it would be hard not to be when you have women throwing themselves at you all the time. You’d have to have the will of a saint to resist all that temptation.” She paused, doing that adorable head-tilt thing again. “I bet you’ve slept with thousands of women, haven’t you?”

I blinked, taken aback by the direct boldness of her question. Thousands? No, not likely. Flattering though.

She nodded, interpreting my lack of immediate denial as confirmation. As if that was exactly what she’d expected, she turned and went back to pulling papers from neatly stacked boxes atop her desk.

Her easy dismissal bothered me. Sure, at one time, I’d been blinded by the fame and the money and the women, but I’d been young. Things were different now. It wasn’t like I got it up for just anybody. I’d become quite discerning in the last decade or so.

If she knew that she was the first woman I’d wanted to take out in years, she might be flattered. No way she’d believe me if I told her that now though. She’d already lumped me in with all the other stereotypical rock front men. That was something I was going to rectify.

And I damn sure wasn’t leaving this conversation hanging on that note, not with her thinking that she was no different to me than any other attractive, warm-blooded female.

“But none of that has anything to do with my current state of arousal,” I said carefully, weighing each word, gauging her reaction.

Her shoulders stiffened, as if steeling herself before she turned around to face me. Oh yeah, someone had done a number on her. Probably lured her in with soft words and empty promises. There was a hint of innocence in those eyes, innocence that had been abused at some point but still clung valiantly to life.

This was all new territory for me, this sensitivity and speaking of raw truths. I went for it anyway. No guts, no glory. And I was all about the glory, especially if it would keep her talking until I figured out who the hell she was and why she had every last nerve in my body firing up and taking notice.

“It’s you,” I told her honestly. “The way you smell. The subtle bit of cleavage you reveal whenever you put your hands on your hips and your blouse pulls open slightly. The sexy, feminine way your hips flare out and then curve into that tiny waist.”

I heard her sharp intake of breath before she turned away. “It’s called spandex and a push-up bra, Mr. Logan,” she quipped. “Both available at Target and generally not needed by nubile, young groupies.”

Hmm. Definite bitterness there but revealing. It confirmed that the asshole who had hurt her was a musician with a weakness for groupies. Not unheard of, surely. I knew plenty of guys who lived for that sort of thing.

But if she were sporting spandex, I was wearing a thong. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t.

“I don’t think so.”

I took a chance, moving up behind her, crowding her personal space. Not touching her, but getting close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body. I caught the soft hitch in her breath and wondered how many men had managed to get this close. Not many, I guessed.

“I’ve seen enough phony body parts to be able to spot them a mile away,” I said softly. “And you, Ms. D’Agolino, are the real deal.”

My hands went to either side of her waist, a featherlight touch but enough to prove my theory. “I knew it,” I breathed against her ear. “Nothing but silk beneath silk.”

Eva stepped quickly out of my grasp and moved to the other side of her desk. A beautiful, rosy glow painted her cheeks.

“You know what? I’m late for ... something. I’m going to call Ted. He’ll take you to your hotel and make sure you get settled in.”

“I don’t want Ted. I want you.”

Again, she dismissed me with a wave of that delicate hand. “He’s a huge fan, and he’ll be able to get you whatever it is you need.”

This wasn’t going as well as