December 16
Beat paced in front of his apartment door. 5:50 A.M. and Melody still hadn’t come out of the guest room. He could hear her moving around in there. What was her plan? Walk out at six on the dot so they would be on camera and not have to talk about what happened last night?
He’d approached the door once already with the intention of knocking, so they could have a face-to-face discussion without the glowing red light blinking two feet away and Danielle’s pen scratching on her clipboard. But what the hell could he say to make the situation better? He needed to figure it out, because they had eight more days in close quarters—and he really should be less grateful and turned on thinking about that. Hours spent together in the back of a dark SUV. And later tonight, more chances to be alone.
More chances to fuck up this friendship he was valuing more by the minute.
A quiet cough on the other side of Melody’s door made his pulse skip, followed by the sound of her uncapping lipstick, if he wasn’t mistaken. God, then he couldn’t think of anything but her mouth. Kissing Melody was like a welcome home party in a place he’d never be lucky enough to call his home. It was trespassing. He’d had no right teasing open those lips so wide or sweeping his tongue that deep. Getting his hips good and notched between her thighs, so she could push down and pulse and get him so goddamn horny he’d nearly lost his grip on control.
That had never happened. Not once.
Beat always finished alone. The pleasure was measured and drawn out for maximum suffering, but he never stayed for the end. That was done on his own time. Being vulnerable like that with someone? No. He didn’t trust anyone enough. But . . . he’d never faced anyone like Melody. That darkening of her cheekbones and the stutter of her breath, the uncontrollable trembling. The trust she seemed to have in him. Their bond that was so tangible, it almost didn’t make sense. He’d felt the signs of her release straight through his pants and she’d almost ended him, then and there.
He’d hurt her feelings by backing off, withholding himself, which was the absolute last thing he would ever do intentionally. Why did he have to be so magnetized to someone he had the ability to hurt?
They needed to talk now.
This standoff was no good.
If he had to go the entire day without knowing where they stood, he was going to do something ill-advised, like give into frustration and hash it out in front of a worldwide audience.
Beat squared his shoulders and started to cross the apartment toward the guest room. Before he could take a single step, though, a knock sounded on the door.
He raked a hand through his hair. “Of course, you’re early—” He broke off when he opened the door. Because instead of finding Danielle and Joseph, his blackmailer was leaning against the doorjamb. Ice formed an immediate layer on Beat’s skin, his heart slingshotting up into his throat. Apart from shock, he had one thought and one thought only.
Keep him away from Melody.
“What are you doing here?” Beat asked, pushing him out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. “How did you get up here?”
“How else? Candy bars. Thanks to the live stream, the secret is out.”
“We agreed you would never come here.”
The man’s smug smile didn’t slip one iota. “You haven’t been answering your phone,” he drawled. “How else am I supposed to reach you?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Oh, I’ve heard. Everyone has. Your little project is all anyone can talk about.”
“Did you come here to congratulate me?” Beat asked. “After all, I wouldn’t be doing the show if it wasn’t for you.”
“Bullshit, Beat. I know the amount of cash Ovations rakes in every year in donations. It’s a matter of public record. You didn’t need to participate in some reality show to pay me.”
“I don’t use the foundation money to shut you up. I use my own.” Beat leaned in and got in the drummer’s face. “The Ovations money goes toward scholarships for talented people. Not opportunists disguising themselves as artists.”
That smile turned brittle. “I’d tread carefully if I were you.”
“You’re not me. We’re nothing alike, thank God.”
“Personality-wise? Maybe.” He stroked his chin. “Genetically? That’s another story.”
All at once, Beat felt like he’d been box jumping for an hour straight.
Melody was in the apartment and he wanted this slimeball a million miles away from her. Away from his family. Unfortunately, he wasn’t done with Fletcher Carr yet. He might never be, if he wanted to keep the secret of his paternity right here. Between the two of them. Where it couldn’t hurt anyone or drag his mother’s name through the mud.
“Real heartwarming scene last night, the whole family gathered for your mother’s annual ego trip. Your”—he performed air quotes—“father still has the wool pulled over his eyes when it comes to your mother. If only he knew.”
“Get out,” Beat clipped. “Get out of the building and don’t come here again. Whether I have to secure a loan or we make this gig happen, I’ll have the money by Christmas, as agreed upon. There is no reason for you to keep contacting me.”
“Isn’t there?” The blackmailer stepped into Beat’s space and his skin shrunk in around his bones. “One of these days, you’re going to think about getting brave, maybe letting the truth come out. I think these little visits from me remind you exactly how little you want people to know that I’m your real father. Not the man everyone thinks it is. Not the man who thinks your mother was faithful from the day they met.”
A ring tightened around his jugular. “I said, get out.”
Beat’s blackmailer sauntered backward with a skin-crawling laugh. “Have fun with Trina—that crazy bitch.” He spun toward the staircase and threw open the door. “I’ll be watching with a bowl of popcorn.”
The blanket of silence after the stairwell door snicked shut was deafening. Instinct begged Beat to go back inside the apartment, knock on the guest room door, and tell Melody everything. The relief of having her on his side would be incredible. He could almost feel the burden toppling off his shoulders. But it would land right on top of hers—and he couldn’t do that. Not after he’d already brought Wreck the Halls to her doorstep. Not after last night, when he’d hurt her by backing off at the last second. Melody was a rare, perfect bright spot in his life and if he piled too much of his shit on top of her, he’d dull that luminous glow.
No, he’d keep his mouth shut and handle Fletcher on his own, thank you very much. This was his problem pertaining to his family. She didn’t need this on her plate.
Beat was in the middle of a deep breath when the elevator doors slid open. Danielle and Joseph stepped off midargument. The camera was down by Joseph’s side, Danielle backing off the elevator with hands planted on her hips. And she continued to back up until her back met the wall of the hallway, the cameraman towering over her, looking very much like he was thinking about kissing the producer.
At least, until they simultaneously noticed Beat standing there.
“Beat!” Flustered, Danielle smoothed her hair and sidestepped her way free of the trap Joseph was creating with his body. “Good morning. What are you doing out here?”
“I was just speaking with one of my neighbors,” he said, briskly, already turning the knob to let himself back into the apartment. “I’ll let Mel know you’re here.”
Beat drew to a halt when he found Melody standing in the foyer, overnight bag in hand.
“Consider me informed,” she breathed, looking at his chin. Not his eyes.
Sweet hell, she looked hot. She wore a white T-shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans, and the curve of those hips belonged in a man’s hands. His. He’d squeezed them at the gym and again last night. His palms recalled the shape now, flexing at his sides. What would it feel like to grip them from the back? Or dig his thumbs into them while he used his tongue between her thighs? Because he had a lot of regrets from last night, but very, very close to the top of the list was not getting on his knees in the hallway. If last night was the only chance he’d ever get to touch Melody, he could have at least lived his life knowing what one of her orgasms tasted like.
“Are we okay to start filming?” Danielle asked, hesitantly.
“No,” Beat said.
“Yes,” Melody chimed in at the same time.
“We should talk,” he said, shaking his head at her.
“We can talk on the plane, right?”
Danielle laughed nervously. “Everything okay with you two?”
“No,” Beat growled.
Melody widened her eyes at him. “Yes.”
“Melody.”
She set down her overnight bag and slipped past him to take her coat off the rack, shrugging it on. When she couldn’t seem to locate one of the armholes, Beat stepped up behind her without thinking and helped, her gingerbread scent making him feel light-headed. “Thanks,” she murmured, walking away to retrieve her bag once again.
Everyone was silent, Joseph obviously not sure if he should start recording, trading a surreptitious glance with Danielle.
“You’re all staring at me.” Melody laughed.
Who would ever want to look anywhere else when she’s in the room?
“You seem uneasy,” Danielle pointed out, instead.
Melody expelled a breath. “Of course I am. I’m going to see my mother. At her compound. She has no idea that we’re coming, as far as we know. And I have no clue what I’m going to find when we get there. Compound could be code for cult. They could be praying to a statue of Chester Cheeto when we arrive.” She paused. “It’s not even February.”
Danielle’s phone rang. She didn’t answer it right away, the ring going off three times in the quiet apartment before she apologized and tapped the screen. “Hello?” She listened. “Okay, thank you. We’ll be there shortly.” She hung up, her gaze darting between Beat and Melody. “Our private charter came through. I didn’t think it was wise to fly commercial after last night, but it took some sweet-talking to get the network to approve it.” She pocketed her phone. “Unfortunately, we need to move. A lot of rich people are traveling at this time of year and our pilot is on a tight schedule.”
Vaguely, Beat registered what Danielle was saying, but mainly he replayed Melody’s words. How she’d said them, her anxiety and apprehension clear. Yeah, they were far from done with the Trina conversation. Today was going to be hard enough for her without him forcing her to talk about their encounter last night, however. They’d get there. But right now, all he wanted to do was relax her nerves.
He was dying to walk straight to Melody and wrap her in his arms, but holding her without resolving last night first would be too much, right? Still, he had to do something to ease her worries. After shouldering his duffel, he closed the distance between them and picked up her bag. Then he took her hand and twined their fingers together, squeezing.
Looking into her troubled eyes, he quickly replayed their conversation from last night.
“Do you need to see my Springsteen impression, Peach?”
At the very least, he’d distracted her. “Um. What?”
He raised an eyebrow.
She blinked. “I mean, who could turn an offer like that down?”
Maintaining a serious expression, Beat cleared his throat. He was a god-awful singer, but the growling was hereditary and that’s all he needed for a proper Bruce imitation. Lowering his forehead until it was an inch from hers, he drawled the opening lines to “Born to Run.”
Slowly, her entire face brightened.
Her jaw dropped, the twinkle returning to her eyes, along with the little dimple on her right cheek. Even as he stumbled over the lyrics, he’d never felt more like a hero in his life. Eventually the impact of her delight became too great and he was forced to trail off. With a cough to ease the pressure in his throat, he added, “Your mother isn’t in a Chester Cheeto cult.”
Melody’s lips twitched. “You can’t guarantee that.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I can.”
She let out a breath. “When I’m around her, I’m sixteen again. You know? That awkward girl you met a million years ago who thought choosing teal rubber bands for her braces was living life on the edge.”
“That awkward girl was the best.”
She gave him a grateful half smile. “That’s easy to say when you weren’t her.”
“I was awkward, too. But I’d already gotten really good at hiding it.”
She studied him with a slight indent between her brows, as if trying to read into the revealing statement. “For the record, my orthodontist implied clear rubber bands were a boring choice. I’m pretty sure he was a sadist.”
She’s so wonderful, my stomach is going to fall out. “I’m telling you, Mel. You looked great in teal.”
“My sixteen-year-old self is smiling down on us. With wax stuck between her teeth.” She bit her lip. “That was a solid Springsteen. A boss Boss, if you will.”
“I will.” It took an effort not to promise her the moon. “Any time you need it.”
“Mics on. We have to go, kids,” Danielle said, answering another call and speaking to someone on the other end while walking out of the apartment. She held the door for them and waited as they hooked their battery packs to the smalls of their backs, feeding the mics through their shirts and pressing the almighty button that would pick up their voices more clearly for the home audience. When Beat turned around, he saw that Joseph had been filming and wondered how much he—and everyone watching—had overheard. Did it even matter anymore? Hiding things from the camera only reminded him how privately he normally lived. Letting everyone close, but never close enough. Never revealing anything too deep or important.
With Melody’s hand tucked into his, Beat wondered for the first time if maybe he could learn to be a little more trusting. And what could be waiting for him on the other side.
