Rock Redemption (Rock Kiss, #3)(50)

“Deal,” he said and took a deep breath, then released it. “If we want to keep the media on our side, we have to give them a bite.”

Kit felt her jaw muscles lock but nodded. “Let’s drive out, grab a coffee.”

“I’ve got a better idea. How about I take you to breakfast at Pierre Baudin?”

“I think you have delusions of grandeur,” she said, relieved to be back on a normal footing. “That place is booked up months in advance.” Even though it had only opened six months ago, Chef Pierre Baudin’s cafe and restaurant was quickly becoming “the” place to see and be seen.

Noah’s eyes sparkled. “Watch and learn.” Pulling out his phone, he made a call, said, “Bonjour, mon ami.” A pause. “Fuck you, JP, you know that’s the only French I know.” It was said with the ease of a man who knew the person on the other end wouldn’t take offense. “Yeah, yeah. So, can you fit in my girl and me today?”

My girl.

The words stabbed at her.

Kit forced herself to breathe past it. She’d have to do that in public, couldn’t afford to betray just how much the charade was hurting her. The media saw everything, and if this was going to work, she had to put on the performance of her life.

“Thanks—and oh yeah, we come with a paparazzi entourage who’ll splash your place everywhere you want it splashed.” Hanging up on a stream of what sounded like curses on his birth, Noah grinned. “And we’re in.”

“Since when do you know temperamental chefs who’ve taken restaurants to the coveted third Michelin star? And what’s with calling him JP?”

“Remember the whole boarding-school-as-networking thing? JP was there—his full name is Jean Pierre Baudin.” He scowled. “Christ, that means my father was right.”

“Ah well.” She patted his hand. “At least he need never know that you networked your way to a table at the hottest place in town.” Getting up, she said, “Let me change.” While Noah could turn up in disreputable jeans and a plain black T-shirt, his feet clad in heavy black boots with more than one scar and scuff, she had to be done up to the nines or the gossip blogs would immediately start printing tut-tutting stories about how it was a shame she’d let herself go.

Life really was unfair.





Chapter 18


The next three days were surreal. Kit had had no idea just how many people had secretly been hoping for a hookup between her and Noah. “It’s like this giant underground network of Noah and Kathleen shippers,” she said to Thea and Molly when she met the two women for coffee later that week. Becca hadn’t been able to make it, so Kit planned to catch up with her the following morning.

Today, she, Thea, and Molly were at a cafe down the road from Thea’s office, seated around a sunny outdoor table. The odd photographer had snapped a shot, but for the most part, they were left alone. Kathleen Devigny with girlfriends wasn’t as good a score, financially speaking, as Kathleen Devigny with Noah St. John.

“They call themselves the NoKats.”

Mouth falling open at Thea’s response, Kit shoved her sunglasses to the top of her head. “NoKats? Are you kidding me? We already have a nickname?”

“You always did,” Thea said, sanguine and in control as always, her sleek black hair in an elegant twist at the back of her head and her golden-skinned face expertly made up. “It was low level, nothing worth bothering about. People love shipping fantasy couples, and most of the time it doesn’t go anywhere.”

“But—”

“All these years while you hung out with Schoolboy Choir,” Thea said, slicing into her blueberry muffin, “you had to know fans were starting to imagine things.”

“Why with Noah?”

“The chemistry, babe,” Thea said after chewing and swallowing a bite of her muffin. “But it wasn’t just Noah. The AbKats are bummed. The KatiDid and DeFox groups already threw in the towel since Molly and I had the bad form to come between you and David and you and Fox.”

Eyes narrowed, Kit glared at a laughing Molly. “Your sister is making this up to screw with me, right?”

But Molly shook her head, her brown eyes teary with laughter and her creamy skin flushed. Pushing her beautiful tumble of black hair behind her ears, she spoke through her amusement. “Thea showed me one of the forums on the way here.” A hiccup as she tried to catch her breath. “I reckon the AbKats are still holding out hope you’ll dump Noah for Abe.”

“Oh for God’s sake.” Kit wished she’d ordered wine rather than iced green tea. “And who the hell came up with NoKats? At least you and Fox got Foxy.”

“Fox hates it, but I tell him at least it’s better than Folly.” Molly’s eyes danced as she reminded Kit of her suggestion. “David and Thea don’t have one though. How come?”

“Because I’m a PR specialist who doesn’t like to be in the media myself,” Thea said. “I quashed that little bug before it sprouted.”

“You couldn’t do the same for the NoKats?”

“Sorry, Kit, but the NoKats and co were good for your brand.” Thea checked an incoming e-mail. “They were just waiting to believe. Now they’re lighting up the Internet.”