Drive(86)

“Yes. But I meant every word.”

We shared a smile. “It worked.”

He kissed me deeply and didn’t stop until Sierra knocked on the door.





The Flame

Cheap Trick



It’s amazing what can happen in three years. The man I was on my way to interview had made my first months in Austin bleak. He’d been a literal starving artist and I had no choice but to watch him grow as the tabloids took a special interest in his progress, but with good reason. A master of his craft, Reid often played gigs with other bands for various charities. Along with Ben, he’d also recorded songs with a few other high-profile musicians. Their talent was limitless, and Rye and Adam were praised with their own accolades. But together, the four of them soared. At least the last time I checked. And though I told Reid I’d watched it happen, I found myself a liar. I was still selfish when it came to the band. I listened to their first album alone in my SUV without interruption and knew the majority of the songs by heart. It was surreal to hear them again, improved so much in execution and sound. I’d listen to every beat, every note, and lyric, and tried in vain to find Reid and me in that album. Lexi was present, and so were the desperation-laced songs Reid had written in his journal while we were together. I made peace with the fact that I wasn’t there. In his own words, I was never supposed to be. But the underlying resentment grew, and I found myself avoiding any new articles or music that had to do with the Sergeants. I hadn’t lied when I said I was unprepared. I had done all I could to erase Reid from my radar.

The visit from him that New Year’s three years ago had devastated me. I’d been blindsided. But as my relationship grew with Nate, I had to chalk his visit up to Reid being Reid. A man who was trying to be better and wanted to apologize for all his mistakes, including me. I was in Reid’s oops box.

I’d let my emotions win with him and that proved to be a very dangerous thing. But twenty-four-year-old Stella Emerson was no longer a grenade. She was a levelheaded journalist who didn’t let her personal feelings rule her life and had a gold pathway rolled out before her.

I was irritated more than anything about being dragged into that part of my past. At least that’s what I told myself as I rode the elevator up to the top floor.

The penthouse.

I wondered what Reid thought about that. Maybe I would ask him on my podcast recording. Maybe the most secretive man in rock ‘n’ roll would finally let his audience know of his trials and triumphs. But I knew better, he would forever be that guarded man. Jaded in a way that couldn’t be shaken off even with all of his success.

My cell phone buzzed with an incoming message.

Paige: Did you pick up the cake knife?





Yes.


Paige: When will you be here?

You’re welcome. Seven.

Paige: Be here at six.

I let out a breath of frustration. I couldn’t let her rattle me that close to an interview.

I’ll try.

Though Paige and I had made amends, she was quickly nullifying our truce with her outrageous demands on her maid of honor. The phone rattled in my purse and I silenced it without looking at the message. I checked my appearance in the hall mirror. My face was still a little flushed from my office romp with Nate. I was practically glowing. I had to admit my outfit was killer, and so were the heels I swore I would never wear. I looked every bit the part of a serious reporter. My hair was tidy and pulled back into a double braided bun. The collared, low-cut red blouse I wore accented my cleavage just enough to be both sexy and business casual. Aside from that, heavy mascara and deep red lipstick were all I wore. I was as ready as I would ever be.

I knocked on the door with my equipment bag in hand. And then the warm needles tickled the skin beneath the nape of my neck and goose bumps spread up over my scalp.



Look up, Stella.



Mere seconds after that mental whisper, Reid Crowne knocked the wind out of me.




Reid ushered me inside the penthouse while the rest of me froze at the sight of him. He’d had his hair cut short to frame his face. It was still thick but gelled back slightly as if it annoyed him. He was clean-shaven, his masculine jaw on clear display, and he seemed . . . taller, even as I stood in heels. I pressed through the door as I processed.

“Look at us, all grown up,” I said as I set my bag down on a table in the foyer and looked back at him with a grin. He shut the door and leaned against it, sliding his hands in his pockets. He had on gray slacks. Slacks? Business slacks, his signature boots, and a black V-neck T-shirt that looked like it should be paired with jeans, not half of a two thousand dollar suit. I had to admit, even in the odd pairing, it was sexy as hell.

“Where’s the tie, Crowne? You have a meeting later?” I chuckled.

My smile slipped as his eyes trailed down my face, swept my body in a caress that had my stomach fluttering and warmth spreading. When he got to my heels, his gazed flicked to mine in a collision. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

My mouth parted as my heart stopped and then resumed with that foreign yet familiar beat. I opened my mouth to speak and then closed it, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t going to make this easy. We stood a foot away from each other, just . . . staring at the similarities and the differences. I didn’t know the man in front of me anymore, and I wondered if I ever truly did. Still, in his eyes I saw the undeniable flame and knew without a doubt, I had never imagined our pull. I wanted out of that room, deeming myself an idiot that moment to think space and time had made me a safe woman.