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He frowned. “That sucks. You should always make out to music. It’s one of the reasons it exists. What did you—”

  “You,” she said, before he could ask the question she already knew the answer to. Christ, she was nervous. So nervous her blood roared in her ears like a thrumming drum. Which was ironic, really. “I made out to you, Noah. The very first time I made out ‘Tempest Soul’ was playing on my CD player. The very first time I made out was to your eight-minute drum solo track on Nick Blackthorne’s third album. The very first time a boy kissed me, I was thinking of you.”

  Noah Holden blinked. “You win. I haven’t got a fucking hope in hell of thinking about anything else now except you and me moving together to music.”

  Chapter Three

  Noah couldn’t move. Which, given the fact he rarely sat still for more than a few minutes at a time, was pretty damn incredible.

  He watched the woman opposite him, a tight coil of heat gripping his gut. He wasn’t joking. The very notion of thinking about answering music-trivia questions had deserted him. All he could think about was Pepper and her lush, full lips moving against his while the best drum solo he’d ever played filled the air around them.

  Fuck, he’d love to discover every inch of her body while “Tempest Soul” throbbed from the speakers of a state-of-the-art sound system. It was the one true piece of music he called his own. It was truth, his truth. To this day he still couldn’t believe Nick put it on the album and would love him forever for doing so.

  Knowing the gorgeous, contradictory woman sitting opposite him experienced her first sexual awakening to the rhythm born from his soul shook Noah to his very core. And stirred something even deeper.

  He didn’t just want her now. He needed her. He needed to feel his rhythm in her body, to see if his soul was still there in her pleasure.

  Christ, he sounded like Nick when the singer wrote lyrics. Why he was surprised by the fact was beyond him. All musicians had romance in them, even attention deficient drummers.

  But what shook him more was how quickly he was growing ravenous for a woman he barely knew.

  Drawing a deep breath, he waited for Pepper to say something.

  Her blue eyes shone in the bar’s muted light, damn near luminous and completely mesmerizing.

  Long moments stretched between them. A distant part of Noah’s mind noticed the women at the table behind Pepper were staring at him. He didn’t give them a second glance. They didn’t snare his focus. It was fixed on Pepper.

  She frowned at him. Chewed on her bottom lip. Rubbed her elbows with her palms. “What do you mean, I win?” she finally asked.

  “You win,” he answered, his voice strained. Probably because his throat was so bloody tight. “I can’t think about anything now except f…kissing you. Which means, you could ask me my middle name and I wouldn’t know it.”

  “Rodney.”

  His middle name fell from her lips in a hushed breath.

  He chuckled, the sound equally soft. “Is it?”

  She nodded. “So I get to audition? In front of the band?”

  He nodded. A hot ball sat on his chest. His groin throbbed. He couldn’t look away from her. “You do.”

  “And I don’t have to kiss you?”

  He swallowed, the question shearing into the mounting ache for her. “You don’t.”

  Fuck, harder words had never been spoken.

  “What if I want to kiss you?”

  He pulled a slow breath. Studied her. She studied him back, a pink tinge in her cheeks, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip. She was such a mix of confident calm and hesitant uncertainty. If it weren’t for the fact she’d approached him in a bar with such an unbelievable proposition he’d swear she struggled with being shy. Yet even that thought twisted the tight interest building in his groin. There was something about her. Something he really, really wanted to get to know.

  Without uttering a word, he rose from his chair and lowered himself into the one beside Pepper. She frowned. And then gasped when he leant forward, bringing his face a breath away from hers. “Then kiss—”

  She cut off his gentle command by brushing her parted lips over his.

  Jolts of hot tension shot through Noah, sinking into his very soul. He groaned, the feather-light contact more electric than any kiss he’d experienced before.

  Holy fuck, yes.

  She moved away a little, her breath a rapid pant against his lips, but before she could straighten completely in her chair, he cupped her face in both his hands and captured her mouth with his.

  He wanted more.

  Swiping his tongue over the velvet softness of her bottom lip, he dipped into her mouth. She didn’t fight him. Her tongue met his, timid at first before taking control. He surrendered to her kiss, his head spinning, his gut clenching. Damn, if they weren’t in a bar, he’d—

  She snaked her hands up his chest, behind his neck and into his hair, and Noah decided he didn’t give a fuck they were in a bar. He thrust his tongue deeper into her mouth, challenging her to meet his desire. She did, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip with fierce urgency.

  Noah groaned again, snaring her hips with his hands and yanking her closer to him between his spread thighs.

  She whimpered. He ravished her mouth. The heat of her bare knees so close to his balls—swollen and heavy with lust—drove him insane. Her hands tightened in his hair. She sucked on his tongue. Noah bucked his hips forward, aching for contact of her body with his groin, even if it was just her knees. Hell, he’d pay everyone to leave the bar right there and then if it meant her knees would press to his groin.

  Hell, he’d fucking buy the bar if it meant he could press his groin to her—

  She raked a hand down his chest, cupped his engorged cock through the denim of his jeans and Noah’s sanity shattered.

  He tore his mouth from hers, struggling to control his breathing. “Jesus, you really know how to…” He stopped. Swallowed. His head spun. He stared into her eyes, reveling in the desire fogging their blue depths. “Come back to my hotel room with me.”

  She didn’t move. Nor say a word.

  He smoothed his hands over her outer thighs, unable to stop touching her. Her skin was soft and silken and warm. He liked it a fucking lot. “Please?”

  Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, long enough for Noah to notice she wore no colour on their lids, before she looked at him again. “No.”

  His heart smashed into his throat with painful force. “Why not?”

  She let out a shaky breath, her teeth catching her bottom lip. “I want to sing for you, not sleep with you.”

  Noah’s heart thumped harder in his throat. “Not sleep with me? Bullshit. With the way you just kissed me, you want to sleep with me. Fuck, I can barely think with the sexual energy sizzling between us.”

  “If I sleep with you, I’m going to spend the rest of my life thinking that’s why you let me sing. But if I don’t…if I sing…” She shrugged, torment etching at the corners of her eyes. “I’m not…I don’t…”

  Noah straightened, holding out his hand. “Give me your phone.”

  “What?”

  He wriggled the fingers of his right hand. “Your phone. Give it to me.”

  Confusion pulling at her eyebrows, Pepper reached into her bag, withdrew an iPhone and handed it to him. “Why?”

  Noah grinned at the Han Solo frozen in carbonite cover protecting her mobile, a swelling wave of happiness rolling through him at the geeky sight, before tapping the phone icon. “I get what you’re worried about,” he said, keying in a number. “You think if we sleep together now I won’t hold up my end of the bargain and let you audition. Or, if I do let you sing and you take Nick’s place, that the only reason you got the gig was because we had sex.” Returning his focus to her face, he smiled and handed her back her phone. “Ring that number there.”

  Pepper shot him a puzzled frown before pressing her thumb to the screen.

  The sound of Darth Vader’s heavy, mechanical
breathing vibrated from Noah’s hip. He squirmed on his chair, tugged his own iPhone from his pocket and held it up for Pepper to see her number on his screen. “Now you know I’m serious about you singing for me. I never give out my personal number to someone I’ve only just met. In fact…” He leant forward and plucked her phone from her fingers again, chuckling at her surprised gasp as he opened her contacts. It took him a minute to enter the info, during which Pepper watched him. He could feel her steady inspection like a warm caress. “There.” He handed her phone back to her, not even trying to control his grin.

  Pepper’s frown knotted deeper. “What did you do?”

  “I added Samuel, Jax and Levi.”

  Blue eyes locked on his face, wide with shock. “You did what?”

  “Look up Strings, Ax and L.L. in your contacts.” He chuckled. “I’m in there as well now. I’m Drummer Boy, in case you didn’t work out who it was.”

  She smiled at him, a little smirk he found wickedly delightful. “I did.”

  He nodded. “Good. Now, I give you permission to call every one of them if you don’t hear from me tomorrow. Which you will, Pepper. Promise. In fact, I give you permission to call the media. Want me to put Perez Hilton’s number in there? If I renege on our deal, you can call him and play this message to him.” He dialed her phone, shaking his head and holding up a finger at her when she went to answer it.

  “Hi, this is Pepper,” Pepper’s smooth voice came through the connection, tickling his ear. “Please leave a message after the beep.”

  “G’day, Pepper. This is Noah Holden, the drummer in Nick Blackthorne’s band. I’ve just made a deal with you to audition as lead singer. I won’t back out of this deal if you agree to come back to my hotel room, even if it’s only for coffee and ice cream.”

  Pepper’s mouth fell open.

  Noah ended the call and smiled at her. “See? I’m serious about hearing you sing.” He leant forward, holding her stare with his. “I want to hear you sing. You intrigue me. And I haven’t been intrigued for a long time.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “When?”

  Noah’s heart quickened at the way her lip glistened with moisture. “Tomorrow. I’ll call the guys and get them together tomorrow arvo.”

  “Arvo?”

  He smiled at her frown. “Sorry, afternoon. So, want to go now? From here, I mean?”

  Apprehension flicked over Pepper’s face.

  “Only for coffee and ice cream, remember?” he said with a chuckle. “No sex. You’ve got that on record. Although you have no idea how much I want to make love to you right now.”

  A pink blush painted her cheeks. She studied him, her head turned slightly, her elbows tucked into her sides. He waited, his heart thumping in his ears, his feet jiggling on the floor. God, let her say yes.

  Pepper nodded. “Okay. Coffee would be great.”

  Noah had to stop himself from fist-pumping the air. “Excellent.”

  “I know a really good, quiet café around the corner,” Pepper said before the image of him laying her naked on his hotel suite’s bed finished forming in his head. “They have amazing apple pie. Would you like to share a slice with me?”

  Swallowing at the rapid beat in his throat, Noah smiled. “I’d like to share anything with you, but am happy to start with pie.”

  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 he
rself 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.”