Page 2 of Hard Rock Temptation

“It’s not the questions I’m worried about,” I said. “You’ve never been able to get through an interview without saying or doing something shocking or scandalous.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Finn spread his hands wide with a look of mock sincerity on his face. “I’m a reformed man.”

I snorted a laugh.

“All right then,reformed man, are you planning on making a scene at this interview or not?” I asked.

“As if you care, troublemaker.” Finn gave me a shit-eating grin. That was all I needed to know. Some things never changed.

I began to bounce on my tiptoes, anticipation getting the better of me again. I’d kept an eye on the entrances but the only people who had come through were television staff preparing for the show. I checked my phone again. No texts. Not that I’d expected any.

“Did you want to talk to Micah before the show?” Finn asked. “Is something up?”

“No, it’s fine,” I replied quickly with a vigorous shake of the head. “We’re fine.”

Finn raised an eyebrow at me.

“Everything isfine,” I emphasized.

“Okay. If you say so.” He spoke carefully, as if trying not to upset a skittish cat. I didn’t much like the comparison but couldn’t deny it was apt.

“I’m going to go check on Anya!” I said, making sure to sound like my usual upbeat self. “See if she needs help with her breathing exercises.”

I turned to go, then paused, fiddling with my drumsticks.

“If I run into Micah I’ll send him your way,” Finn promised.

There was a knowing glint in his eyes. I hated it.

I scurried off to the green room, twirling my drumsticks again, but I didn’t get far before I heard a voice call out my name.

“Kaylee.”

It was a deep voice, with an undertone of calm and confidence. It was a voice that resonated in my very bones.

I gripped my drumsticks tight in my fist. My heart sped up. I resisted the urge to whirl around.

“Micah,” I said, greeting him as I turned slowly.

Despite myself, I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my lips when I saw his tousled hair, dark waves falling over his forehead.

“Lost your hairbrush again?” I teased.

“Hair and makeup said they’re going for a windswept look.” He took off his black rimmed glasses and ran his fingers through his hair self-consciously, ruining all their work. “Your hair is perfect as always,” he noted with a small smile of his own.

I tried not to preen. My hair used to be a frizzy mess growing up, until I’d learned to use hair product. Now I took pride in my natural red curls.

“Hair and makeup already got to me, too,” I said.

I ran my eyes over the long-sleeved black Henley he was wearing, hiding his toned arms covered with a multitude of tattoos. I wanted to comment on it, to tease.

Won’t all your fans be disappointed they can’t ogle you?

The truth was closer to the surface than I would have liked.

I’m the one who’s disappointed.

I didn’t say anything. It would have drawn attention to a topic that I needed to tread through carefully. A topic that would have popped our easy camaraderie, something I desperately cherished.