Heart of Rock (5 page)

He didn't hear anger in her voice nor did he hear the nails on a chalkboard cadence for once. Carly's soft, feminine voice sounded concerned and compassionate. She got on her knees and pulled him to lean against her.

He reached up and wiped the burning, unshed tears from his eyes. "She left me. She hates me—"

"Do you want Gio to put you on the bed?" she asked gently. He wasn't used to this caring tone from her. In the short time of their acquaintance they had usually argued.

Suddenly the bed seemed like a great, unreachable height. "No. Just let the room stop spinning first."

"Look, Byrne, there can't be any more drugs, booze, or broads, or it will kill you. It almost did tonight." Carly smiled at him slightly and nodded her head in the direction of Gio. "Besides, next time I'll have Gio perform CPR and mouth-to-mouth on you." She chuckled softly, and the Volkswagen snarled and crossed his huge arms.

"Love, that's just bloody great," he muttered.

"Gio, go down to the restaurant—I know it's late—ask for some chicken broth and toast, and pay them anything."

When Gio left, Carly lifted his head. "What were you thinking? Death? Finality?"

"No. I just wanted to numb the feckin' pain," he croaked. "I didn't take enough pills to kill myself."

"No," she sighed. "Instead you almost choked to death on your own vomit. Smooth move, Byrne."

Carly got him to sit upright. He leaned against her chest. Carly smelled of clean soap, baby powder, and mint. Her silk pajamas felt cool against his raging, sensitive skin.

"I'm in real trouble here, Montgomery," he rasped. His throat still burned from his vomiting. "I gave my girlfriend VD—gonorrhea to be specific. I better get tested."

"No shit. We'll see a doctor as soon as possible. I'll make the call in a few minutes. Byrne, you're a damned mess."

"Thanks, love," he said softly.

Her hand gently stroked his chest, and the motion comforted him. Her voice sounded matter-of-fact and not judgmental. "So she dropped you. Do what other broken-hearted musicians do and write a song about your torment. It sells records. When was the last time you wrote anything?"

Carly spoke the truth. He had been touring on his last album for the past year and had done nothing new. He still had one record left on his contract with Cascade. He was bloody daft. He didn't think he was a stupid gob-shite, but obviously he was. He almost choked on his puke.
Real bleedin' class.
His cheeks flooded with heat and shame.

One of Carly's hands touched his hair. When was the last time someone just held him and comforted him? He burrowed the back of his head in between her breasts. She had more there than he'd thought. He was getting turned on, but he wanted the soothing reassurance of her touch even more. He sighed deeply and contentedly. His head's insistent throbbing started to subside. He closed his eyes. He could sleep right here in her embrace.

* * * *

Dear God, but the man was stunning. Having him lean against her like this seared her skin. She couldn't stop touching him. One hand tunneled through his silky two-tone hair, and the other stroked his bare chest. Did he just sigh, or did she? She should be raging with indignant anger; instead she comforted Byrne like a lost little boy. She was going to feed him damned chicken broth. All that was missing was the bedtime story. She had told him the truth. He was a mess, and worse than she originally thought. What dramas were next—paternity suits? Carly was surprised he didn't have a couple already. Every male rock star did, and considering how careless he seemed to be sex-wise, it was only a matter of time.

Her heart hitched behind her ribs. He had come so close to dying. Yes, her original thoughts might have been cold and calculating as she thought only of the headlines and of Nigel's reaction. Deep down, however, her emotions were more complicated and muddled. Holding him like this sparked a protective feeling she didn't even know she possessed. She had to admit physically he was everything she could ever want in a man. Her interest was sparked from her first gaze at him naked face-down on a bed.

Carly's hand continued to caress his chest. Byrne's body was muscled, tight, sculpted, and irresistible. Don't get her started on his voice. She'd read his file. He had an amazing three-octave range, each note sounding crystal clear and pure. He could have sung opera, he was so damned good.
At first, Nigel wanted to go glam rock, much like Bowie did with his Ziggy Stardust persona, but Byrne refused. Probably because his vocal range and depth were often compared to Bowie, or maybe wearing glitter eye shadow and sequined jumpsuits just didn't appeal to him.

Carly had recently re-listened to his debut record,
Within the Flames
. The heights to which his voice soared gave her goose bumps and sent thrilling shivers down her spine. He was killing her softly with his song. She smiled at her own music pun. If Byrne's singing voice wasn't mesmerizing enough, when he spoke she swore hot liquid gushed from the deepest parts of her. The smoky, sexy Irish lilt only enhanced the undeniable appeal. His voice was musical in its cadence and smooth as dark chocolate. His damned unique scent was as appealing as his come-to-bed voice. Byrne exuded a spicy aroma that went beyond the generic hotel soap Gio had just used on him. No way. She wasn't going to let this egotistical rock monster get under her skin.

No fucking way.

Chapter Four

The odor of roast turkey filled his nostrils as soon as he opened the door. Brogan stepped across the threshold into the private banquet room of the Fairmount Plaza in Boston. The concert was tomorrow night at the Boston Garden, and then on to Newark. Three days had passed since his 'puke incident,' as Carly referred to it. His gaze fell upon the huge buffet laid out in front of him. As if he wanted to eat anything. When was the last time he had a decent meal with veg and the works?

Brogan's eyes grazed over Carly. He had to admit she was a hot chick. Besides the shapely, trim figure she had the loveliest expressive hazel eyes. The purple leather pants and matching purple leopard jacket were a turn on. She dressed the part of rock manager. Brogan thought she looked the most appealing in her oversized silk pajamas with her face fresh scrubbed like a little girl ready for bed. The way she'd held him…

What the hell was he doing? Abbie had thrown him aside only three nights ago, and already he was on the prowl? No, he really wasn't, if the insistent ache in his heart had anything to say about the matter. If he were to admit it, the ache had always been there since the night Tarrah was killed brutally in front of him. A surprising development since he supposedly willed his heart to turn to rock the very same night.

* * * *

Carly sucked air between her teeth as she watched Byrne stride confidently toward her. Good God almighty, the man was a stunner. She had to stop this inward drooling. She couldn't put her finger on why he appealed to her outside the obvious good looks. There were layers of hurt and heartbreak in this man, and not just his recent smash-up with the Malibu Barbie girlfriend. There was more. It fueled him, drove him, and maybe fed the demon inside him. She knew he had one. The tortured look she caught in his eyes was proof. Damn, it made him even more appealing. She could not show her interest, ever. So much for her determination to keep her emotions tightly masked. She would have to try harder.

"Hope you're hungry, Byrne. I expect you to chow down here," she said.

Byrne picked up a plate and served some food for himself. "Who in the feck is going to eat all this? The turkey is the size of a small child."

"Funny, Byrne. Didn't know you could be. The crew can do mop-up. I said for them to come in an hour." She ladled string beans onto his plate. "Don't forget your greens, baby."

He snarled quietly but took the food to the table.

Carly sat at the opposite end. She observed Byrne eyeing the white wine sitting on the table. Damn, she should have made sure there was no alcohol of any type. His eyes were wide and full of temptation as if he could drink the whole bottle. She observed his hands trembled slightly.

"Did you take your meds?" Carly asked.

"Aye, I'm a walking Walgreens. I'm taking two different types of antibiotic, Bennies for the alcohol withdrawal, and anti-anxiety pills. And let's not forget the sleeping pills. What is the feckin' difference between these drugs and what I was taking?" he growled.

"These ones are legal and prescribed from a doctor. You can't have any wine, no alcohol at all, Byrne. You heard the doctor; your liver enzymes are out of whack. Eat your turkey." Carly lifted a forkful of whipped mashed potatoes to her mouth.

"Thanks, mum. Want to wipe my arse too?"

"No, I'll leave that for Gio," she said sweetly.

She gazed down the table at Byrne. Jesus, did she have to cut up his meat too? He looked so forlorn and lost. He reached for his fork and began to eat. The doctor had said his blood sugars were screwy as well. He wasn't healthy, and he had just turned thirty. Frankly, she was worried. Maybe too much so.

"I don't mean to nag," she said in a gentler voice. "Believe it or not, there are people concerned about you."

"Worried I won't make them money, you mean," he snapped.

"Well, yes. Byrne, there are dozens and dozens of people relying on you for their welfare and their income. You have to keep it together."

"Jaysus, put more bloody pressure on me, why don't you?"

"I don't mean to," she replied softly.

Byrne glared down the table at her. Yikes, he looked pissed off. He grumbled something about not needing her pity, then shoveled food into his mouth.

"So it's really over with your girlfriend," she ventured.

He slammed his fork on the table. "I gave her VD, cheated on her dozens of times, and lied. What do you think?" Byrne picked up his fork and began to eat again. "I'll live. I'll get over it, I always do."

Yes, there was more going on here than his so-called broken heart, and damn her eyes for being a curious kitty, but she wanted to know everything about this man. Yeah, she was remaining real detached here.

"So sluts are also off the menu." She cringed. Did she just say that?

"I guess I won't be fucking you then," he snarled.

Carly gasped aloud in shock but came right back. "Not with that diseased cock of yours!" Oh, God, her mouth was working before her brain again. "Look Byrne… I—"

"Kick a man while he's down. Thanks for reminding me I'm a messed up male whore."

She glanced up. His expression showed his pain, and she felt like shit. "You brought up the VD first! You wouldn't have caught VD if you… you… Damn. It's none of my business. I don't care, Byrne. You infected the beautiful princess and there are consequences. Do you want the health department coming after you for wantonly spreading a disease? God knows how many you've infected. You don't even know their names. Sounds like a male whore to me."

She'd done it again. She stuffed turkey in her mouth—anything to shut herself up. Why was he stirring such emotions in her, enough that she blurted whatever came to her mind? She had more control than this.

They ate quietly for the next ten minutes. Carly's insides were quaking. What possessed her to lecture him on his moral behavior? If he wanted to screw a brown paper bag it wasn't her concern. She was too involved with this man and his messed up life. She broke her own rules to stay removed, detached, and professional. She didn't dare ask Nigel to reassign her as this was a plum assignment. Nigel liked to use his own people as managers for his acts; the codicil was written in the contracts. The good of the record company came first. It wasn't exactly fair, but Nigel did treat all his people well. No one dreamed Byrne would become so famous. Capitol Records and some of the other bigger labels were already sniffing around him. Carly's job was to see to it Byrne was happy and stayed with Cascade, and she was screwing it up.

A snarl, almost animal-like in tone, came from the end of the table. Byrne leapt out of his chair, grabbed her arm, and pulled her against the wall. "Stop. I can see the pity on your face. Don't you ever feel pity for me," he saidangrily.

She shoved at his chest. "I don't, you Irish shit! Back off."

He stood way too close, and his nearness affected her. Byrne's potent presence surrounded her and made her body react, damn him. She could feel the anger and annoyance come off him in waves. Her hand brushed his rock hard chest. No wonder he went shirtless on stage. She ached to touch him again, but she pulled her hand away.

He leaned in close. "Why is your hair red and black? Couldn't make up your mind?"

"You're a fine one to talk," she mumbled.

"I like changing my hair color and style. It's like trying on a new persona." He laughed huskily.

"Yeah, you know all about that." She snorted.

"Come on—tell me the real color of your hair and I'll tell you mine."

"Enough games. Let me go. You're acting drunk." But she knew he wasn't. She had touched a nerve, and he gave her the full arrogant 'Rock God' façade.

He grabbed her wrists in one hand and held them against the wall above her head. Byrne's eyes scanned down her body. She was angry now, and her chest heaved in irritation. He looked down between her legs. "Love, I know a way I can find out your true hair color."

"Jesus, your brother was right: You
are
a pig. Going to take me against the wall like you do those groupie whores? Just try it and I'll have Gio tear you to pieces."

Byrne began to laugh. "You know, Montgomery, I haven't been this entertained in ages."

"Let me go or I'll whistle for him."

He released her and backed away. "Just having some fun—"

"I'll show you fun." Carly reached down and grabbed his balls in a vise grip capable of cracking walnuts. Holy shit… her fingers brushed past quite the erection. He was turned on? He
was
a pig! She squeezed tighter because, damn him, she was turned on as well. This man had her confused six ways from Sunday, and she didn't need this. Byrne cried out with a definite girly scream.