Chapter Three
Pepper
Drinks are flowing and the air feels electric in the VIP lounge of the Paris Lá Defense Arena, where dozens of men and women are moving to the beat, as captivated by my talented twin and her band as I am. Well, maybe a little more so, given that even across the crowded room I can feel Clay’s eyes on me. The heat of his gaze has had me in a choke hold since dinner. I fight the urge to look over, and fighting it makes me worry I’ll accidentally glance in his direction and those all-seeing eyes will catch me doing it, erroneously feeding into his belief that I’m just playing hard to get.
My nerves flame with the pressure not to look over.
I know he’s with my brothers-in-law and a handful of men and women who were here when we arrived. Another group had converged on Axsel right away, but a few others had flocked to Clay and Dash, thrilled to be among the American football players. I don’t know how Amber deals with it. Dash is retired and people still consider him public territory. At least Dash kept his distance from the ladies. Clay, on the other hand, hammed it up, putting his arm around the women as they took selfies.
I try to quell the pang of jealousy that I don’t even understand. Clay is not for me, so why do I care? A voice in my head whispers, Because there’s something there. Something hot and sharp and enticing.
The roar of the crowd rises with the crescendo of the music, drawing my attention from my runaway thoughts to Sable strutting across the stage, playing the guitar like it’s an extension of her fingers. A dozen crisscrossing lights call her out like the celebrity she’s become. I get chills watching her, so confident and unafraid, living out a dream she never wanted and few could ever achieve. We shared a womb, but that’s where our similarities end. Sable is loud and rebellious. She has a gorgeous voice and an ear for music, and she has always taken what she wanted without allowing anyone’s criticism to affect her actions. I, on the other hand, speak my mind but would rather walk away than raise my voice. I just don’t see a need to fight every possible battle. On top of that, I couldn’t carry a tune if it came in a suitcase, and I pick apart criticism to see if any of it is applicable before setting it aside to overthink it later.
Sable throws her head back, her long dark hair whipping around her as wild and free as she is. Her raspy voice booms through the packed arena as she belts out the end of the song. The fans, and all of us, explode into cheers and applause.
“Listen to that crowd. Sable is killing it!” Brindle grabs her glass, holding it up. “To Sable!”
“To Sable!” we all cheer, and clink glasses before drinking our mojitos.
I usually have wine, but I’m so far outside my comfort zone tonight, I’d drink gasoline if it would take the edge off my nerves.
“I can’t believe Sable doesn’t want to live on that stage,” Brindle says.
Surge was a hometown band before billionaire Kane Bad walked in and offered them a chance to tour with his brother Johnny’s band. Sable never wanted to tour, but she agreed for her band’s sake, which was why this would be her first and only tour.
“She wants to spend time with Kane,” Amber says.
“I don’t blame her,” Morgyn says. “The man owns half the East Coast, and he looks at Sable like she’s worth more than all of it put together. He’s also generous to a fault.” Kane paid for all our rooms at the lavish H?tel de Crillon.
“You know he’s got to be all that and a whole lot more in the bedroom to have hooked Sable’s heart,” Brindle says.
“This is Sable we’re talking about,” Morgyn points out. “He’s got to be a hell of a lover in every room, on the roof, in the yard, in her truck.”
We all laugh.
I lean in so they can hear me over the music. “You know darn well she wouldn’t want to live on that stage even if she wasn’t with Kane. She doesn’t like being a public commodity.” My thoughts race back to Clay, who seems to gobble up the attention his celebrity status brings. And just like that I’m fighting the urge to steal a glance at him again, which annoys the crap out of me.
I take another swig of my drink and watch Sable burn up the stage, refusing to let Clay’s presence rattle me to the point of stealing the joy of watching her. I focus on the beat of the music and the excitement of the crowd, welcoming it as the mojitos work their magic. I dance with my sisters, giving myself over to the music until it becomes a part of me, like I did as a kid when our grandparents would take us to concerts. I had forgotten how that could happen, and as the beat thrums through my veins, I feel more alive than I have in years.
“Is it just me,” Amber says loudly, “or has Sable’s music gotten even better since she fell for Kane?”
“Haven’t we all gotten better with love?” Morgyn says. “I felt a change the minute Graham and I came together.”
Swinging my hips to the beat, I say, “That was your hormones speaking.”
“Maybe partially, but I knew he was the one when I met him at the music festival, and the universe did, too,” Morgyn insists. “That’s why it answered my manifesting and brought us back together at Grace’s wedding,” Grace is our oldest sister. She’s three months pregnant, and after suffering a miscarriage last year, she is playing it safe, opting to stay home instead of joining us.
“Because it couldn’t have been a coincidence that his friend was marrying our sister,” I say sarcastically. Sometimes I think about how much easier life would be if I were more like my sisters and could believe that merely existing, or manifesting, was enough to make all my dreams come true. I had some of that dreaminess in me when I was younger. I had even, on occasion, thrown caution to the wind, but that was before I knew how dangerous that could be.
I take another drink, reveling in the cool liquid sliding down my throat.
“O ye of little faith.” Morgyn points to me as we dance. “One day you’ll understand that all those facts you believe in don’t hold a candle to the power of the universe. With Graham, I’m happier and more creative than ever, and I get to live every moment with my best friend by my side. That’s the universe’s doing.”
“That’s the power of love ,” Amber chimes in. “Dash makes me see myself and the world differently. I’m stronger because I know he’ll love me through whatever else life throws at us…”
As Amber goes on about her amazing husband, I can’t imagine a man making me stronger. If anything, one particular man is making me weaker, because the draw to look at him is too strong to deny. I cave and steal a glance at Clay. He’s watching the band, flanked by two beautiful women. Maybe it’s the alcohol speaking, but I have the strange thought that he’s more beautiful than the women are.
He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, turning his head slightly, and catches me staring.
Again.
Shitshitshit . If I turn away, it’ll look like I am staring at him, which is true, but I don’t want him to know that. He grins and winks, and I tell myself to look away, but I’m like a deer caught in the headlights. Suddenly all I see is that spark of interest in his eyes, the tempting curve of his mouth, and his big hand moving up the back of his neck. I remember the heat of that hand on my thigh and imagine how good it would feel beneath the denim. My body goes hot just as he flashes an exasperated look, yanking me from my ill-timed fantasy.
I don’t know if that look is aimed at me for reacting to his wink with a blank stare, or if it’s a conspiratorial look. Like he’s letting me in on a secret that I don’t understand. In any case, I go for the nothing-going-on-here move, shifting my gaze slightly to the left, as if I’ve been looking beyond him at Axsel standing by the bar the whole time, then quickly return my focus to Amber, who’s still talking about Dash.
“He makes me want to do things and see places I was afraid of before he came into my life.” Amber glances at Dash with a dreamy expression.
“He makes you want to do him ,” Brindle says.
“ In places you never dreamed of,” Morgyn adds.
Yes, Clay does . The thought comes unbidden, and my gaze flicks back to him without any thought. My heart nearly stops. He’s still watching me, and this time there’s no hiding the fact that I purposely looked at him. I tear my gaze away, gulp down the rest of my drink, and set the empty glass on a table.
Amber blushes. “That’s the power of love, too.”
“More like lust,” I say, realizing after the fact that she was responding to Morgyn, not talking about me ogling Clay. The man really does make my brain misfire.
“To lust!” Brindle raises her glass, and they all drink as another song comes to an end.
We cheer along with the roar of the crowd, and the band starts playing one of our favorite songs. My sisters and I break into a hip-swaying, shoulder-rocking dance.
Brindle dances closer to me and says, “You and Clay looked awfully cozy in the limo, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we got here.”
“I’m sure you’re mistaken.” My nerves prickle with the lie, but thanks to the alcohol, the anxiety doesn’t take hold.
“When it comes to lust, I’m never wrong. But I guess we’re about to find out,” Brindle says just as I hear the guys behind me.
“Sable’s kicking ass out there,” Trace says as he wraps his arms around Brindle from behind and kisses her cheek. “Just like old times, huh, Mustang? Want to sneak off and find a dark corner like we used to at concerts?”
“Heck yeah,” Brindle exclaims, eyeing her ruggedly handsome cowboy over her shoulder. “Right after Sable’s done with her set.”
“I’d like to see you strutting across a stage, Sunshine,” Graham says as he drapes his arm around Morgyn.
“You find me a stage, and I’ll totally do that for you.” Morgyn goes up on her toes and kisses him.
Amber waggles her finger at Dash and says, “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t do stages or dark corners at concerts.”
Dash laughs. “That’s just one of the many things I love about you.”
As he lowers his lips to hers, I feel myself teetering on longing for what my sisters have. Not just the love, but their friendships with their husbands. The part that appears to take no effort at all for them. I realize with an unexpected pang of disappointment that Clay didn’t join us. I turn to see if he’s still with those women and see him closing in on me with a drink in each hand, watching me so intently, my chest flutters.
His penetrating gaze never wavers from mine as he hands me a glass. Our fingers brush, and a zing of electricity shoots up my arm. He leans in so close, his breath warms my cheek as he says, “You were looking a little thirsty .”
The way he said thirsty made it sound like an innuendo, sending my thoughts back to when I googled him and found pictures captioned Thirsty Thursday . He was shirtless, wearing those tight football pants, pouring water over his head after a game like some kind of fan porn.
Now I really do need that drink.
“Thank you. As a matter of fact, I am thirsty.” Still caught up in the image of him shirtless, it comes out flirtier than I intend, but I kind of like the way I sound. I haven’t flirted in so long, I’d forgotten how uplifting it can be, so I go with it and take a sip of my drink, telling myself not to overthink the situation. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“I had to heal my bruised ego after offering to be your date and getting turned down.”
“I didn’t realize you were so fragile,” I tease.
“Am I? Or was I trying to make you jealous?”
“I can’t imagine Mr. Perfect trying to make anyone jealous.”
The muscles in his jaw bunch, but in the next second he cocks a brow in amusement. “I guess that means it didn’t work.”
I shake my head, laughing softly. He steps closer, sliding his hand to my lower back, sending my pulse sprinting. I eye him curiously. “What are you doing?”
“Entering your personal space.”
“I can feel that. The question is, why ?”
“Because I want your personal space to be mine.”
God , this guy is never at a loss for a comeback. “That’s not really how personal space works.”
“It is now.”
As cheesy as his lines are, I find the fact that he never runs out of them oddly intriguing. “You’re awfully cocky.”
A playful grin appears. “Thank you. I don’t usually get such bold compliments about my body so early on in conversation, but I appreciate you noticing.”
My cheeks burn, but I laugh. “I didn’t mean it like that .”
“Oh, I think you did.” He lifts his brows and takes a drink.
Applause erupts around us, startling me out of the moment. I was so focused on him, I lost track of everything else.
I kind of liked that, too.
Clay
That little startle was so fucking cute. I like a woman who can give as good as she gets. I’m glad I accepted Dash’s offer to join them. Even on the heels of that devastating loss, I feel lighter than I have since spending the holidays with my family. Pepper is watching her sister with pride in her eyes as Sable thanks the audience, and not for the first time, I’m drawn to Pepper’s love of her family. She’s as close with hers as I am with mine.
“They were awesome,” I say, leaning closer so she can hear me over the roaring crowd.
She beams. “Yeah, they were.”
“It’s hard to believe Sable’s going to give all this up.” My older sister, Victoria, who goes by Victory, owns Blank Space Entertainment and reps Bad Intentions. Last year she offered to sign Surge to her label, but Sable turned her down. She ended up signing several of Sable’s bandmates, and Sable walked away without her band, or a deal.
“You probably can’t relate to this, but she doesn’t like the limelight.”
“I can relate to that more than you know.” It’s not something I want to think about, and I’m glad for the distraction when Sable announces Bad Intentions. The crowd goes wild as the other band takes the stage.
“Hello, Paris!” Johnny Bad’s voice booms through the arena, inciting more excitement. “This song is for my beautiful fiancée, Jillian, who’s holding down the fort with our three kids back in the States. I love you, baby!” Jillian is Graham’s sister.
Johnny breaks into “Star Crossed,” and the crowd goes wild again.
As Pepper’s sisters and brothers-in-law couple off to dance, I set down my drink and take Pepper’s glass from her, placing it beside mine on a table.
“Hey,” she complains. “I need that.”
I draw her into my arms. “Not while you’re dancing with me, you don’t.”
“I need it even more if I’m dancing with you.” Her gaze darts around us nervously.
“Why is that? We’re both good dancers.” I hold her tighter, keeping her focus on me.
She doesn’t respond, but as I sway more seductively, she moves with me. I dip my head, speaking into her ear. “Why are you fighting our connection? You feel incredible in my arms. Doesn’t it feel good to you?”
“Reasonably good,” she says breathily, but there’s no missing the battle between desire and rational thinking looking back at me.
“It’s okay to admit we feel phenomenal together.”
Her eyes narrow. “Why are you even dancing with me? Didn’t your pickup lines work on your other lady friends?”
I grit my teeth against the accusation, but I can’t blame her for saying it, and it confirms the hint of jealousy I thought I sensed earlier, which I fucking loved. “Do you really think I’d come all the way to Paris to see you and then try to pick up other women just because you’re playing hard to get?”
She gives me an incredulous look. “You’re not here for me.”
“Do you think I came all this way to hang out with Dash and see a concert? I love the guy, but this wasn’t a two-hour plane ride.”
Her eyes widen as understanding hits.
“Now that we’re clear, do you really think I was trying to pick up those women?”
She schools her expression. “Based on your reputation, I’d be remiss to think otherwise.”
“That stings,” I admit. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your honesty. It’s refreshing, since most women don’t give a damn as long as they get a piece of me. But I’d think an intelligent woman like you would know better than to believe the rumors.”
“They’re rampant. They can’t all be unfounded.”
“I didn’t say they were. It sounds like I need to give you reasons to believe I’m not a total scoundrel. I didn’t try to pick them up. They’re fans of the game. I was just giving them something to post about on their social accounts. It comes with the territory.”
“Well, I’m not on social media, so you don’t need to do that with me.”
“I know. That’s just one reason I find you so intriguing.”
Her brows knit and her eyes narrow, like she’s weighing my response.
The song ends, and she tries to pull away as applause rings out, but I keep her close, forcing her focus to remain on me. “That’s right, Pepper. I searched for your nonexistent social accounts in an effort to find another way to connect with you after you ignored my attempts last year.” I let that sink in as the next song begins and sway to the beat, enjoying the feel of her against me. “Why are you so determined to avoid me?”
“Because we have nothing in common.”
“How do you know unless you give me a shot?”
“I’m a scientist and you’re an athlete ,” she says, as if that should explain it all.
“Which means I’m dedicated to my career, a hard worker, and a team player. I’m determined to be the best, and I’m in great shape because of it. From what I’ve read about you, and from what I’ve seen, we’re not so different.” I skim my hand down her back and wrap my fingers around the curve of her hip, keeping her close. A sexy gasp escapes her lips, and I can feel her heart hammering against me. “Does my touch make you nervous?”
“Maybe a little,” she admits. “I told you I need my drink.”
“You make me a little nervous, too.” I take her hand and press it over my heart so she can feel how fast it’s beating.
Surprise rises in her eyes, and she looks like she’s going to say something, but she just skims her teeth over her lower lip, looking innocent, and too fucking sexy.
“Damn, Pepper. You’re killing me.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. I’ve been thinking about kissing that sexy mouth of yours for a long damn time.”
“I… You …” She presses her lips together, tensing in my arms. “Don’t tell me that.”
“Why not? Does it embarrass you?”
“What do you think?”
“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you the other things I’ve been thinking about doing to you.”
Her cheeks flame. “If you’re going to say things like that, I definitely need my drink.”
I chuckle, but I’m relieved and thrilled that she didn’t slap me or walk away.
“I bet you say that kind of thing to all the women.”
“I don’t,” I say firmly, biting back my annoyance at continually having to fight my reputation. If she were anyone else, I might walk away. But she’s finally right here in my arms, unable to run away, and whether she wants to or not, she’s looking at me like I’m a decadent cake she wants to gobble down but knows she shouldn’t. I’m going to hand her a fucking fork and feed myself to her if that’s what it takes. “How about we make a deal?”
“What kind of deal?”
“Give me one night to show you who I really am. Let your guard down. Allow yourself to have fun with me tonight. Pretend I’m not an athlete with a reputation that scares you, but just an incredibly good-looking guy you met through Dash.”
“Not that you’re conceited or anything,” she teases.
“Confidence is not conceit. You’re a beautiful woman. You must know that.”
Her cheeks pink up. “I don’t think I’m beautiful, but if I were, I wouldn’t go around saying it.”
“You’re either incredibly humble, or you don’t see what I see. I’ll tell you what. You leave my reputation out of tonight and see me for the man I show you I am, and I’ll try to look uglier.”
She laughs. “Lucky me. Remind me what I’m getting out of this deal.”
“You mean besides the best night of your life, sexy arm candy, and most importantly, debunking the myth that I’m nothing but a dumb jock?”
“I never said you were dumb, and that’s not what I was implying. I meant we have nothing in common.”
“I’m glad to hear that, and again, you can’t know if we have anything in common until we spend some time together. As I was saying, give me tonight to prove myself. If you don’t have fun, you can tell me to get lost.” The song ends, and she tries to step out of my arms as applause and whistles ring out around us, but once again, I hold her tighter. “Do we have a deal?”
“Why does it feel like I’m making a deal with the devil?”
“Because I’m devilishly handsome.”
That earns a genuine smile and a reluctant, “ Fine . I’ll make a deal with a dimpled devil, but don’t make me regret it.”
“You’re really fucking cute.” Before letting her go, I lean in and say, “For what it’s worth, there’s not a woman in here who can hold a candle to you.”