Rock Redemption (Rock Kiss, #3)(16)

The chiseled-jawed actor pressed a kiss to her cheek, his teeth gleaming Hollywood-white against the ebony of his skin. “You were a babe, even in green.”

“Still not dating you.”

“Why not?”

“You’re gay. I don’t want to be your beard.”

Cody wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You sure?” His dark brown eyes turned soulful. “I’d be the best boyfriend you ever had. No pressuring you for sex, willing to share chores and happy to go shopping.”

Kit snorted. “You hate shopping and you have a gazillion maids.” Hugging him around the waist, she leaned into his muscled warmth. “And sex would be nice.” Too bad her body wanted a man who’d made it clear multiple times that he didn’t want to “f*ck” her.

“If you insist.” Cody sighed. “I’ll pop a pill, get it up.”

“You’re a riot.” Leaving him with a mock punch to the rock-hard abs that decorated the bedrooms of teenage girls across the country—regardless of the fact that he was, in fact, openly gay—she went to talk to Becca.

It was an hour later that she slipped out. Cody left with her and Casey, eager to head home to his steady boyfriend. That didn’t stop the incorrigible flirt from teasing Casey—who was about as straight as they came. Fighting not to laugh as Casey gave Cody the cool Marine stare that said he was not amused, she wasn’t ready for Cody’s sudden swearing.

“Damn it to hell! Some *’s slashed my tires!”

Ice trickled down Kit’s spine. “I’m so sorry, Cody. It might’ve been my stalker.” The disturbed man had never before struck inside the studio lot, but…

“Nah, I don’t think so, babe,” Cody said, hunkering down to look at the tires. “Everyone knows I play for the home team, so no reason for your stalker dude to get his panties in a jealous knot. Probably just some f*ckwit getting his rocks off.”

“I agree with Cody,” Casey said, a frown in his eyes as he took in the damage. “Your stalker believes you two are married, and Cody’s no threat to that.” He squeezed the other man’s shoulder. “I can organize a tow for you.”

“Thanks, man.” Cody rubbed his face. “I’m gonna call my sweetheart for a ride.” He leaned into Kit’s tight hug. “Aw, don’t look so pissed, Kit. It’s only tires—gotta remember that and not let this gutless weenie ruin our night.”

“Gutless weenie?” she said on a surprised laugh.

“Yep. No guts and a tiny dick.”

Kit and Casey stayed with her fellow actor until his boyfriend arrived. As the two men were happy to wait together for the tow truck, Kit and Casey got into their respective cars to head out of the lot. Kit hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol at the party. She needed her head on straight tonight.

Taking a deep breath, she turned in the direction of Noah’s home.

She was halfway there when it struck her: she’d never actually been to Noah’s house. Back when they’d been close, it hadn’t been a big deal. Noah had said he liked the feel of her place, first at the town house, then at her current home. It had made her happy at the time, but now…

Her fingers gripped the steering wheel so tight that her bones pushed up white against her skin. “No way am I inviting myself to his house if he doesn’t want me there.” And since this was one conversation she didn’t want to have in public, she turned the car around. Behind her, Casey was probably wondering if she was lost.

Sending Noah a message at a red light, she didn’t check for a response until she was home.

On my way. –Noah

He always did that, always signed his messages. As if she might forget who he was, despite the fact he’d been one of her most frequent contacts at one time. When she’d ribbed him about it, he’d shrugged and given her that crooked smile she could never resist.

Not back then.

Heart aching at the sweet poignancy of the memory, she put her keys and phone on the kitchen counter, then hunted in her freezer until she found a couple of gourmet pizzas. Even she couldn’t mess up pizza. She turned the oven dial to the correct temperature and, while waiting for it to heat up, went into the bedroom to change into black yoga pants and a fitted dark blue T-shirt.

Hair mostly dry at this point, she combed it into a loose ponytail, her eyes on the mirror and on a face the tabloids had called “fugly” when Kit had been at the awkward adolescent stage. As in, how could two people as genetically blessed as Parker and Adreina Ordaz-Castille sire such a fugly child?

Those same tabloids now called Kit “a mix between Grace Kelly and Sophia Loren.” She snorted. Yeah, no matter how much smoke the media blew up her ass, she wasn’t about to get a big head. Neither was she about to forget that Noah would rather sleep with random groupies than with her.

A jagged breath.

Heading back into the kitchen, she slid the pizzas into the oven and began to make a green salad. She went to grab a bottle of wine halfway through, froze. No, she wouldn’t give Noah alcohol. Not until she knew if the other night had been a one-off or if he had a drinking problem.

She decided to make iced tea instead, heavy on the honey. Noah had a liking for the stuff, though she didn’t know where he’d picked up the taste.

The kitchen was redolent with the smell of bubbling cheese when Butch called to say Noah was heading up to the house.