Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (bill gates best books TXT) 📗

have a family that encouraged him to be himself? Unlike my own.

Enough! Turn off the brain.

“Don’t sound so startled. Did you think rock musicians were hatched like chickens?” He laughed.

She lowered her gaze, embarrassed. “No, I…I mean…I didn’t think at all, I guess.”

“Well, now you know.”

In front of a wide window, she saw a dining table and chairs and in the middle of the table, a piece of statuary representing a band.

She grinned. “Is that supposed to be Lightnin’?”

“Yeah. I have a friend who does this kind of work.”

Emma didn’t want to ask if the friend was male or female. She didn’t want to know. So she just smiled and said, “It’s a beautiful piece.”

He dragged her into the kitchen, cleaner than anyone’s she’d ever been in, including obsessive/compulsive Andrew. The countertops were gleaming granite, the stove and refrigerator brushed aluminum, and an array of appliances stood precisely on one counter.

“Wow! This is beautiful. Do you actually use it?”

He nodded. “My family’s big on cooking. Everyone one of us gets into it.” One corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile. “Except my mother. I think she’s missing the cooking gene. But she makes killer casseroles.”

“This isn’t some kind of a joke?” She could hardly believe what she was hearing. But then she remembered running into him at the grocery store. If she’d thought about it at all, she figured he was there to buy a week’s supply of frozen dinners. But he cooked?

He shrugged. “What, you don’t think rock musicians can prepare food from scratch?” He touched the tip of a finger to her lips. “Shh. It’s a big secret. Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my image.”

“Too late,” she said, only half joking. “Your image is already changing.”

And it was. Family, a cousin who painted, and now cooking? What else didn’t she know about him? What else had she deliberately chosen not to find out because it was the safest way?

His face became dead serious. “Good. That’s what I want.” He took one of her hands and rubbed his thumb over her knuckle. “I’m not just the guy you see on stage, ML. That’s who I am in public, but in private I’m a lot more.”

Was he really? She wanted to desperately to believe it. A kaleidoscope of images collided in her mind—her cooking in his magnificent kitchen, curled up on the couch with Marc watching television (anything but war movies), rocking a baby…A baby? Reel it in, Emma. Don’t get ahead of yourself here.

She sucked in a deep breath to steady herself and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

He cocked his head. “Does that damage my sex appeal?”

“No. Not at all.” It actually made him seem more real to her. And somehow even more dangerous. Because she couldn’t pigeonhole him, couldn’t keep him in a little slot marked “not real”. It was easier to let herself go with a living figment of her imagination. Seeing him as a real person whipped up the emotional whirlpool to a dangerous level. Especially when his thumb was caressing her with a slow sensual movement.

She eased her hand out of his and glanced around again, trying to distract herself.

“I can’t believe how neat this kitchen is,” she commented.

“My mom taught me always to clean as you go,” he explained. “That way you never have a mess when you’re done. Meanwhile, we haven’t finished the tour. Come on.”

He took her hand again and led her down the hallway toward his bedroom. Opening a door opposite his, he turned on a light. “Guest room.” He waved his hand at the space. “But as you can see, I haven’t exactly been planning for any guests.”

A quick look told her the room was filled with workout equipment, various pieces of electronic equipment, and some unopened boxes.

“I work out as often as I can. Helps me keep in shape. The rest of this is junk I haven’t figured out where to put yet.” He indicated a door to the right. “That’s a second bathroom, one of the things that sold me on the place. So if I ever put this room to use as a bedroom, it has its own bathroom.”

“It’s…nice. More than I expected.”

Far more. That first night she saw him as a free spirit, immersed in his music and hotter than a furnace in bed. But this man was putting down roots. Creating a solid life for himself. Not at all what she expected. She didn’t think Marc would want these kinds of things.

So maybe you misjudged him, you idiot.

He turned her toward him and brushed his fingers against her cheek. “Good. I wanted you to like it.”

She sensed the pride of ownership that he was trying to be so casual about.

“Okay, tour’s over.” His voice was husky, edge with hunger and need. “My self-control’s about at an end. If I don’t get a taste of you in the next sixty second I might expire.”

Her pulse raced and her blood heated. Shivers of excitement skated along her spine. Deep in her sex, hunger and need throbbed for this man who made her body sing like his music.

Yes. Hurry, hurry, hurry.

He tugged her into his bedroom where the only light came from the bedside lamp and the moonlight shining in through the wide window. Emma could feel the tension of restraint radiating from Marc’s body as he pulled her tank top over her head then ran his fingers deliberately through the fall of her hair. He studied every feature on her face before his gaze lowered to the swell of her breasts above the lace of her bra.

Oh, yes, her lingerie was new, too, also courtesy of Annie.

Not that she’d been addicted to dull cotton before, but these undies had real pizzazz. She couldn’t wait for him to get a load of the thong.

Resting his hands on her shoulder, he bent his head to trail a line of kisses across the upper slope of her breasts then licked the fullness with the tip of his tongue.