Always Rayne (The ALWAYS SOMETIMES NEVER Rock Star Romance Series) (9 page)

“Let’s shake on it.” He extends a hand.

I’m not sure why I’m so reluctant to touch him. But he doesn’t hesitate to touch me. He’s not shaking my hand though. He’s actually holding it.

And as much as I don’t want to admit it I actually like it. When he lightly caresses my knuckles with his thumb a wave of shivers runs through me.

“We’re not actually shaking hands,” I manage to squeak out.

“I know,” he says as he continues to gently stroke my hand. “I pro
mise I won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable or that you don’t want me to do.”

“Okay,” I reply but my voice sounds so weak. It’s because he’s touching me and all kinds of strange things are going on inside me. Things I’ve never felt before.

When I pull my hand away from his that disappointed, hurt look that I’m starting to see more frequently crosses his features.

“Do you want to go for a ride?”

I’m a little surprised he’s asking. He usually just tells people what to do.

“Where?”

“My house.”

“
Your what?” I can’t help the shock on my face.

He smiles. “I grew up in Mesa. It’s right outside of Phoenix. I have a house here.
In Scottsdale. It’s where I stay when I’m not in LA.”

“I guess so.” I’m still trying to process what he’s saying. I’m not sure why I’m so taken aback that he has a house here. Why wouldn’t he?
After all, Raven said they all grew up here. I guess when I think about superstars I don’t actually think about them having normal lives like everyone else.

“Buckle up.”

I do as I’m told. “This is a great car. My dad always wanted one. It’s his dream car.”

“Your dad has good taste.”

I laugh. “Champaign taste on a beer budget as they say.”

“And who is they?”

“I’ve never figured that out.”

As we drive out of downtown and towards the suburbs,
Nic asks, “So what do your parents do?”

“My dad is an inventor. He has close to a thousand patents on ever
ything from mint-flavored self-brushing toothbrushes to confetti-throwing wedding announcements. Unfortunately he has yet to invent something that people actually want to buy in large quantities. He was even on that reality show
Big Fish Small Pond
. The one where inventors compete for a big contract from an investment company.  He got thrown back into the small pond on the second show. He’s never gotten that really big break. My mom is a writer. I know. Big surprise there.”

I can see
Nic is thinking because he’s biting his bottom lip. It’s subtle but it’s definitely his habit.

“Sandra Leigh.”

“How do you know my mom’s name?”

“Because I’ve read her books.
Falling Angels
and
Forgotten Angels
.”

“Then you’re one of the few. Unfortunately critical acclaim doesn’t always translate into sales.”

“But she did get
Falling Angels
optioned by Katie Lawrence. I heard it’s been lost in development hell for a while.”

“My mom’s okay with that. She keeps getting the options renewed so they have income coming in. My parents have always struggled financially to be able to do what they love. And that’s also why I have so much student loan debt. There’s no way they could afford to pay for college.”

“Now you’ve got a chance to pay off your student loans. You’ve just got to put up with me for the rest of the tour.”

And sleep in your bed
. I’m already wondering how that’s going to play out.

Seven

Nic’s house is not what I expect. It’s not one of those flashy McMansions that the newly rich seem to always end up building. His home is a lovely old Spanish Hacienda style home that’s been beautifully restored.

He
parks his car right outside the front door. “What do you think?”

“The exterior is beautiful. I really like the courtyard entrance and the tile work.”

“Let’s go inside.”

We both hop out of the car and I follow
Nic inside. The house is like a dream. The rustic Mexican décor and artwork is complimented with a wide assortment of greenery and breathtaking mountain views out of nearly every room.

“
Nic, this is fantastic.” There’s so much to look at I’m not even sure where to begin.

He frowns. “Why do you insist on calling me
Nic?”

“Because it’s your name.”

“Everyone calls me Rayne. Always Rayne.”

“Well I’m not like everyone else.”

He laughs. “There’s actually no way in which you’re like anyone I know.”

I’m not sure if that was a compliment or a dig. It could have been both at the same time. It’s hard to tell with Nic.

“Come on.” He grabs my hand. “I want to show you my favorite room.”

I follow him down a small hallway into the most massive library I’ve ever seen.
There are books from floor to ceiling. It’s even got one of those sliding staircases so you can reach the books on the top shelves.

I can’t help but touch the spines of some of the titles. Despite being older editions they’re not dusty at all. Makes me wonder who keeps them clean. I gasp when I see a copy of
The Picture of Dorian Gray
. And right next to it
The Plays of Oscar Wilde
.

“This is incredible. Have you read all of these?”

“Most of them. Some of them I’ve read multiple times. And I’ve got a bunch of signed first editions.”

“I love Oscar Wilde. He’s one of my favorite writers.”

“Me, too.”

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” We both say the Oscar Wilde quote at the same time.

It’s hard for me to reconcile the guy who I caught getting a blowjob in the back of his car with the person standing next to me who reads Oscar Wilde. Even Jackson hasn’t read his work and he was an English major in college.

Nic
raises an eyebrow. “Guess we have more in common than you thought.”

I shake my head. I’m still not willing to admit that he may be right. 

“Come on, Shakes. Throw me a bone.”

“Fine.
We both like books. Are you happy?”

“Not yet.”

I want to ask him what will make him happy but I’m not sure I want to hear the answer. “How many books do you have?”

“Close to ten thousand.”

“I can’t believe there’s a person on Earth who’s read more books that I have. I didn’t think it was possible.”

He grabs a book from one of the shelves and hands it to me. “I told you I’d give you my copy.”

It’s
The Pilgrimage
. When I open the book I notice it’s signed by Paulo Coelho. 

I try to hand the book back to him. “I can’t take this. It’s aut
ographed.”

He smiles. “I want you to have it.”

The book is in mint condition. I’m sure it’s worth a bit of money. But the real value to a book lover is in the fact that the author signed it. “Are you sure?”

He frowns. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

I hold the book to my chest like a baby. I’ve never had a signed book unless you count my mom’s. And I didn’t think I’d ever acquire Coelho’s autograph.

“I also wanted to show you something.” He reaches for a book on another shelf and holds it up for me to see. It’s one of my mom’s books:
Falling Angels
.

“I can get her to sign it for you.
If you’d like. I feel like I owe you.”

He points to
The Pilgrimage
. “That was a gift. You don’t owe me anything. And I’d rather ask your mother to sign the book myself.”

That strikes me as odd. How is he ever going to meet my mom? “Are you planning on spending time with my parents?” I mean it as a joke but
Nic looks serious.

“I hope to someday.”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond and I’m not sure what to say anyway.  

“Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

Nic gives me a whirlwind tour. Every room seems to be more fabulous than the one before it.

“Did you do the decorating?” I ask as we look at one of the guest bedrooms. It’s decorated in a motif that reminds me of a Georgia O’Keefe painting.

“Why? Do you like it?”

“This room is what I imagine a room at a bed and breakfast in New Mexico might look like.”

“I had a little help with the decorating.”

I’m surprised that I feel a twinge of jealously. I’m not sure why. But I don’t want him to tell me he had another woman help him decorate the place.

“And who was that?”

He laughs. “His name was Raul. Apparently he’s a highly sought after interior designer. And he cost a fortune.”

“Whatever you paid it was worth it.”

“Thanks.” He opens the door at the end of the hallway. “And this is my bedroom.”

I can feel my heart start to beat a little faster. Being in his bedroom is making me so nervous. I know it should be like every other room in the house but it feels different. Especially the way Nic is looking at me…like he wants to get me naked in his bed as soon as possible.

Nic’s
bedroom is uber-masculine, which doesn’t surprise me a bit. He’s definitely not one of these metrosexual guys—and I hate to admit it—like Jackson. Nic is all male. The room even holds a hint of Nic’s masculine scent. 

“We’re staying here tonight.”

“What?” I swallow. Hard. “But what about your hotel suite?”

He gives me that smug little grin of his. “I’m sure Leo and
Xander will put the suite to good use.”

I look at Nic’s massive bed. I can’t help but wonder what kind of a
ction that bed has seen. The thought of other women sleeping in the bed with Nic kind of makes my stomach churn. Especially because I know I have to sleep in the same bed if I ever hope to see the money.

When I glance over at
Nic he’s eyeing me again. Like he’s trying to read my thoughts. “No one has ever slept in that bed but me.”

I actually laugh.
A big one. I can’t help it. “Yeah, right.”

He
closes the distance between us. He’s so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “I don’t let just anyone in my home, Harper. Leo, Xander, Raven, and Brad. That’s about it. And no one sleeps in my bedroom but me.”

My throat feels incredibly dry. I want to ask him why he wants me to sleep with him here in his bed when no one else ever has
, but no words will come out.

“If you’re worried about your stuff, I’m having Brad bring everything from the hotel.
Even your books.”

I wasn’t even thinking about my stuff until he just mentioned it. I was still thinking about the massive bed and being in it with Nic.

“We don’t have to be back on the road until tomorrow morning. We have the whole evening together.”

“What am I doing here,
Nic?”

“I hope you’ll want to join me for dinner. And maybe a swim in my infinity pool or take a dip in the hot tub. We could also go for a walk in the desert. It’s beautiful at night. You can see all the stars.
How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart.
”

“Quoting William Butler Yeats isn’t going to score brownie points. Just so you know.”

“And just how many guys are quoting W.B. Yeats to you?”

“Just one.
Jackson. He was an English major. And prelaw.”

I can see
Nic bite his bottom lip. He’s thinking again. “I know you have some hesitancy towards me. You’ve made that pretty clear. I just want the chance, even if it’s a small chance, to change your mind about me. I want you to get to know the real me.”

I shake my head. “You don’t think I’ve seen the real you? You’re all the things people say about you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Reme
mber?”

“Name me one guy on the planet who wouldn’t take whatever girls are willing to give? I just happen to have a lot of girls willing to give it up. I’m sure even Harvard takes what he can get whenever he can get it.”

“You don’t know anything about Jackson,” I fire back.

“And you think you do? I have no doubt he’s playing the field and getting as much Harvard snatch as he can.”

“He’s not like that.”

“Trust me. If he’s got a dick, he’s like that.”

“You’re right about one thing. I don’t like you very much.” I’m not even sure how true that is anymore but I say it anyway just because he’s making me so mad.

Nic
looks down at me with his gorgeous brown eyes and part of me wants to melt right into them. Another part of me is just as ready to slap his face. I’ve never felt so many different emotions towards one person in my entire life.

He
gets really close. So close I can feel his breath on me. “Are you sure you’re not attracted to me? Not even a little bit?”

I’m overcome by a wave of electricity rushing through my entire body. I can’t even respond to his question. 

“One shot. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“Fine.”

He smiles. That sexy little grin of his.

Wait a minute.
Sexy
? Where did that come from? I meant that smug grin that I hate so much.

“So when do I get to interview you?”

He furrows his brow.

“I’m a reporter, remember? I’m supposed to be doing a story on you.”

“I take all my interviews in the hot tub.”

“Seriously?
And just how many interviews have you had in the hot tub?”

“This will be the first,” he admits.

“I can’t do the hot tub.”

“Does it have anything to do with that little trip to the store Brad made for you?”

“God, no.” I can feel my face getting hot. Why did I think it was a good idea to see if he’d actually buy me tampons? “I don’t have swimsuit with me.”

“That’s not a problem. We don’t need swimsuits to go in the hot tub.”

I shake my head. “There’s no way I’m going into the hot tub with you without a swimsuit.”

Nic
grabs the cell phone from his pocket and dials. “Brad, I need for you to run to the mall and grab Harper a swimsuit.”

“A bikini,” he adds.

I try to wave but he ignores me. I’ve never actually worn a bikini before.

“Great. Thanks.”

“Brad will have a swimsuit here for you in a couple of hours. Just enough time for us to have a nice dinner.”

“I’m actually more of a one-piece kind of girl.”

“Are you saying this is going to be your first bikini?” He grins.

“Is this the only way I’m going to get an interview?”

He nods. “New rule. I only interview with reporters in bikinis.”

“Great.”

“So what do you think about sautéed chicken and mushrooms?”

“That actually sounds good,” I admit. And thinking about it I can feel my stomach growl.

“Good. Come on.”

I follow him into an enormous gourmet kitchen.

“Wow,” I stammer as I look around at all the brand new stainless steel appliances. It’s got to be the most amazing kitchen I’ve ever seen. This kitchen gives most cooking shows a run for their money. “You must really like to cook.”

“I can get around a kitchen.”

He reaches over to a speaker dock on the counter. “Would you like to hear some music while I cook?”

“I’m not sure my ears have fully recovered from the concert last night.”

“I promise not to play anything too hard. How about Diana Krall?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Do you have some kind of private invest
igators who researched everything about me? How in the world did you know I like Dianna Krall?”

He shrugs. “Call it a hunch.”

“That’s some hunch.”

“Maybe I know you a lot better than you think I do.”

I watch as Nic removes chicken and mushrooms from the refrigerator.

“Why do you have so
much fresh food when you’re on the road?”

“My housekeeper keeps the fridge full for me. She stays here when I’m out of town.
Takes care of the place.”

“Where is she?”