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CHAPTER TWO

Jade

Holy hotter-than-the-surface-of-Mars-in-the-middle-of-summer-without-sunscreen.

My skin tingles just looking at Royal freakin’ Ewing.

I mean, where in the there-are-hot-guys-all-over-Los-Angeles-but-this-one-is-spectacular has he been hiding?

Okay, I know the answer but it’s a little hard to think with him just a few feet away from me.

I’ve been a huge fan for a long time, and have always found him handsome, but nothing prepares me for the hotness he exudes in person. I had no idea he would be here tonight, much less hanging out in my dressing room.

“Hi,” I say, when I finally find my voice. “I’m Jade.”

“I know.” He slowly gets to his feet, eyes locked with mine.

My heart does a little staccato dance in my chest as he approaches me, left hand outstretched. “Royal Ewing.”

“Believe me, I know.” I put my hand in his and the sparks are so strong I almost jump.

What is happening here?

“Congratulations on Song of the Year.”

Our hands linger much longer than is appropriate.

Except I don’t want him to stop touching me.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

A lazy shrug. “I just wrote it—you made the song come alive.”

Deep blue eyes search my face and I’m a little mesmerized.

“Th-thank you.”

Finally, I pull my hand from his.

Before I do something stupid.

“I apologize if I’m not supposed to be here.” He looks around. “My assistant said she got permission for me to sit in here while we wait for our car to come around.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” I wave a hand. “I wasn’t planning to come back here but my limo’s stuck in traffic and I wanted to powder my nose.”

“If you’d rather I leave…” His voice trails and I quickly shake my head.

“Not at all. Make yourself comfortable.” I move to the small dressing table and plop down on the stool. Well, as much as someone wearing a full hoop skirt can plop. What was I thinking, wearing this contraption? My agent thought it would be elegant and classy, which it is, but it’s uncomfortable. I have to pee but there’s no way I can get to the bathroom by myself.

I open my tiny evening bag and pull out some lip gloss. My lipstick stain has held up well but my lips are a little dry so I dab on the gloss and pucker in the mirror. Tall, dark, and ridiculously hot is watching, but I don’t care.

I’m excited to simply bask in his presence.

Royal Ewing is a legend.

One of the most talented guitarists in rock and roll.

Well, he was.

Until a car accident robbed him of the use of his right hand.

My heart breaks for him every time I read something about the accident, and I notice that his right arm hangs limply at his side. I can’t help but wonder if it hurts. If he spends all day everyday thinking about the fact that he’ll never play guitar again.

His accident was big news when it happened, the gory details all over the media.

Then his divorce had been so ugly, and so very public.

I can’t imagine what he went through.

We’ve never met but I feel for him every time I read another news article about him.

Now he’s in my dressing room.

And even more intoxicating than I imagined.

I catch his eye in the mirror and he is, indeed, watching me, as if he’s reading my mind.

A warm flush covers my body.

Not because I'm embarrassed or doing anything wrong, but because his gaze is dark, penetrating, almost as titillating as his touch was.

And I’m completely under a spell.

“Are you going to any after parties?” I ask, desperate for some semblance of normal conversation.

“No.” He pauses. “You?”

“My producer, Rico Galagos, is having a small get-together at his place, so I’ll head over there for a while. After I change out of this dress. I don’t know what I was thinking wearing something I can barely move in.”

“You look beautiful.” His voice is deep and it sends shivers down my spine.

“Thank you.” I turn, cocking my head slightly. “If I’d known you were going to be here, I would have brought you on stage with me.”

His brows furrow. “I’m glad you didn’t. I prefer to stay out of the spotlight.”

“Why?” The word pops out before I can stop it, and I immediately back pedal. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”

“It’s all right.” He leans against the door. “I just get tired of the Hollywood bullshit sometimes. It’s all so fake.”

“But you came tonight.”

“I knew you were going to win,” he says softly, “and I wanted to be here for it.”

“Well, I appreciate that. I’m so glad we got to meet. Our song changed my career—my life. It’s been the craziest year.”

“Good crazy or bad crazy?”

“A little of both, to be honest. There’s been a lot of good. Money, success, an incredible tour, TV shows, interviews—all the things we dream of before we’re successful. But the down side is…the constant attention. The lack of privacy. I can’t even relax at home now because the press is camped outside twenty-four seven.”

“Wherever you’re living when you hit it big,” he says quietly, “has to become your former residence. Or a secondary residence. You have to move or they’ll never give you any peace.”

I haven’t even considered selling my Nashville farmhouse. “But I love my home.”

“You’ll love the newer, bigger, more private house just as much,” he says drolly.

“I go to my farm to unwind, relax, write songs…”

“How’s that working out for you now that you’re famous?”

I chuckle. “Not that well, I guess.”

“Would you like a little unsolicited advice?” he asks as he strolls toward me.

“Absolutely.”

He stops in front of me, his body mere inches from mine, his voice soft when he says, “Surround yourself with people you trust. Really trust. Not just the people who got you where you are—because they don’t always have your best interests at heart —but honest-to-goodness smart, loyal people who will put your career, and your needs, first.”

“How do you know who those people are?” I ask just as softly. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the good from the bad.”

“And it’ll only get harder from here on out. That’s why the people you surround yourself with are so important. There’s a price to pay for each level of success. And the more successful you are, the higher the price.”

“Why does that sound ominous?”

He shrugs. “It can be. Like I said, get the right team around you. That’s the only way to navigate it.”

“There are a lot of moving parts in my career right now, and it’s probably only going to get worse after tonight. I trust my team, but I’m not really close to any of them. If that makes sense? From where I’m sitting, I don’t think they put my needs first. I’m just a name on a talent roster to them.”

“That’s going to change after tonight,” he says. “Make sure you don’t reward them for mediocre effort.”

“That sounds great in theory, but how do you put that into practice? Because the reality is, I’ve had this team since I got my first record deal. Now, I win this big award and I suddenly dump everyone? How does that make me look?”

He takes my hand in his, squeezes lightly. “Like a smart, successful young woman taking control of her career and doing what’s best for her future.”

“Is that what you did?” I ask quietly.

He pauses and then shakes his head. “No. I didn’t. And that’s why I’m giving you the benefit of my experience. I was stupid. And now I’m paying the price. But that’s another story for another night.”

“Maybe you’ll tell me someday.”

A long moment of silence falls between us.

“Maybe I will,” he finally says, voice quiet, the words gentle fingers stroking along the bare skin of my wrist.

Our eyes are glued together, as if neither of us can look away.

And I really don’t want to.

He’s enigmatic, gorgeous, mysterious, and the complete opposite of the kind of guys I usually go for. Standing here in this little dressing room, it feels like the outside world doesn’t exist. It’s just us. And I can’t explain why I’m so drawn to him.

The way he’s looking at me—like a starving man about to have his first meal in a long time—I know he feels it too.

I just don’t know what to do about it.

Any minute now, my assistant Rosie is going to come in and tell me the limo is here.

Royal will most likely be heading to his ride as well.

If I don’t say or do something to prolong our time together, I may never see him again.

And for some reason, I’m not okay with that.

“Come to Rico’s party with me,” I blurt out. “I’d like to talk to you some more. I have so many questions…”

He looks away, his eyes suddenly hooded. “I don’t do parties.”

“Rico has the guest list locked down. No cameras, no press, just a group of close friends and their dates. I—” I nibble at my bottom lip. “Please come with me. I’m not ready to stop talking to you.” It feels a little awkward, putting it out there like this, but what choice do I have?

He gives me another of those penetrating stares.

He’s thinking about it.

And I’m practically holding my breath.

I’m not usually so bold with men, but there’s something about him that makes me want to know more.

“I could come for an hour, I guess,” he says in a gruff voice. “I’d like to talk to you more too.”

“Jade?” Rosie sticks her head in the door. “There you are. Are you ready to go? Limo’s here.”

“Yes.” I turn to Royal. “Come in my car? My driver can take you home whenever you’re ready.”

A nod. “I just need to text my assistant to make sure she gets home all right.”

“Perfect.” I grab my purse and move toward the door as he types into his phone.

Glee fills me and it’s all I can do not to skip my way over—well that, and the miles and miles of dress weighing me down. It’s just…

Holy guacamole.

Royal Ewing is coming to a party.

With me .