Page 17 of Hard Rock Tease

"Noah…"

He whipped his head around, looking unsettled. "What are you doing here?"

"You said you wanted to start work at eleven."

He flicked his eyes to a clock on the wall. "Oh. Right."

"You seemed frustrated," I said tentatively. "Is there something wrong with the song?"

"Everything."

"I liked it."

"Of course you liked it."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means it sounds like every other piece of drivel anyone else has ever written."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying I have no taste?"

He stared me for a few moments, before slumping his shoulders, looking almost exhausted.

"No," he said grudgingly. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying you like it because it's marketable."

"Isn't that what you want?"

He looked down at the piano, playing a few quiet notes. "Maybe."

"Just maybe?"

He buried one hand in the hair at the back of his neck. "The others are going to write songs that sound like them. I don't want mine to just be another Darkest Days song. I want it to sound…" he trailed off, the words barely audible.

For all that Noah talked a good game, he obviously wanted this song to be different from his usual work.

I was resolved. I was going to get to know this man, no matter what. Even if he tried to shut me out, I was going to crash my way through those guarded walls and find out what he was truly like.

"You want it to sound like a Noah Hart song. I can help with that."

"How?"

I sat next to him on the piano seat. He didn't shuffle over to make room for me. We ended up pressed hip to hip. My inner muscles clenched and throbbed as our thighs brushed together. The rough scratch of his jeans against my leg nearly had me reeling. I could smell him, leather and spice. It was intoxicating.

I snuck a glance at Noah to see if he was as affected by our closeness as I was. His gaze was turned in the other direction, not looking at me. His lips were pressed together firmly.

I took a moment to breathe deeply and compose myself. I only succeed in breathing in more of his scent. I felt myself flushing. I scooted away as far as I could on the piano bench, putting distance between us.

"We want your song to sound unique," I told him, proud that my voice was smooth, not giving away my inner struggle to contain myself. "So why don't you tell me about yourself?"

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "Why would I want to do that?"

Despite his bad-tempered personality and penchant for needling me, there was something about the way Noah Hart looked at me that made me want to swoon. Those rare moments of curiosity, like he was trying to figure me out. Those heated moments when he would zero in on my lips.

I inhaled and exhaled deeply to calm myself. I couldn't get so worked up. Yes, I wanted Noah Hart to tear off my dress and take me on the piano right then and there. No, I wasn't going to let that fact affect my work. I could be professional.

I picked up the sheets of music notes he'd been working on, avoiding his gaze before I did something stupid.

"If we're going to be working on a song together, then I'm going to need to get to know the real you. If we want this song to sound authentic to your fans, it needs to sound like something you wrote. I've listened to your lyrics millions of times—"