Victim of Love (Rock And Roll State of Mind #0.5)

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  The Rock And Roll State Of Mind series concludes with Baby Come Back

  Other works by Christa Maurice:

  Chapter One

  Chapter One

  “Hi.”

  “Not for sale, move along.” Tara waved him away without looking up from her book. Honestly, all she wanted was two weeks on a warm beach to read a book in English and in peace. She had the warm and the book, but not the peace. This what she got for taking vacation advice from boys.

  “I figured you weren't, but I was kinda hoping you spoke fluent English.”

  Tenacious bugger. Tara shielded her eyes with her hand and peered at him. The shielding only helped a little. The man standing next to her chair was entirely in silhouette. All she could make out was shaggy hair and a pleasant, growly voice that was working on her in too many ways to consider for a ten-day vacation. “I do, but I'm not a prostitute.”

  “No, they're all over there.” He gestured in the direction of the little town further along the beach. Then he crouched beside her chair. He had what could be described as an angelic face, but those dark blue eyes held more than a little wicked intent.

  Tara grabbed her yellow and white striped towel and threw it over her torso. She'd been okay with the red bikini on the beach until he came over, even though she kept getting solicited. Maybe the difference was the guys soliciting her hadn't caught her interest and this guy was flat out magnetic. Even though it was a ten-day vacation. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I just wanted to talk to someone.” He sat down on the sand next to her. Innocent and harmless, yet exuding sex. “I'm Rick. How's your book?”

  Tearing her gaze from his broad shoulders, Tara glanced at the cover. A spy novel. “Not my normal fare, but it was all I could lay hands on at school before vacation.”

  “At school?”

  Tara stared at him. He had that ideal V shape. Shoulder to hip ratio was perfect. Unless he was one of those self absorbed bodybuilder types. But if he was one of those, what was he doing sitting on the sand chatting with her when he could find sycophants a plenty in one of the clubs? “Yeah, I teach in Conception, Chile. Where do you teach?”

  “I don't.”

  Interesting. Tara sat up. Now that she could see him better, he looked familiar. “You don't? Are you a geologist?" English teachers, geologists and oil riggers, were about all that came here. Tourists didn't make it out this far.

  "No."

  "What are you doing here?”

  “Talking to a pretty girl who isn't trying to sell me anybody, especially hers.” He scanned down her towel-covered torso. “But it's a nice body.”

  She meant to smirk at him, but at the last minute, softened. It had been about five months since she'd gotten a sincere and facile compliment. “I meant in Brazil.”

  “Oh, that.” He brushed his hand through his hair. The longish strands tangled around his fingers before flicking free. “I guess I misunderstood the question. You can see how that would happen, can't you?”

  “I can see how you're not answering the question.” Tara raised one eyebrow. The exchange should have been annoying, but wasn't. It had been five months since she'd had anything like this. Most of her conversations consisted of “Mees! Mees!” and gesturing.

  “I'm not? That's kinda lousy of me.”

  “Are you going to answer the question?”

  He tossed his head. “I'm here with my band, recording an album.”

  “Your band.”

  “SendDown.” He bowed his head and started drawing circles in the sand.

  “I've heard of you.” Tara pulled her hair out of its ponytail and put it back up. Famous guy. Naturally. She looked him over more carefully. Knee meltingly good looking. Tattooed. How had she taken him for an English teacher?

  “Yeah, you don't sound like a fan.”

  “Well, if by not a fan you mean I'm not going to squeal and salivate all over you, then no, I'm not a fan.”

  “Good. Squealing hurts my ears and saliva stains.” He raised his gaze without raising his face and studied her.

  The look burned through to her toes, heating her skin, liquifying her belly and…oh yeah this bikini top was a lot thinner than she wanted it to be. “Saliva stains? The things you learn on a beach. Have you tried OxyClean? I hear it works wonders.” Being pithy took too much energy. It distracted her from fighting off his attraction.

  He grinned. “I like you,” he drawled. “Yer funny. What are you doing for dinner?”

  “Move fast, don't you?” Her thighs tensed, but she wasn't sure if she was tensing in anticipation or rejection.

  “Just wait.” He tugged the corner of her towel.

  “I don't.”

  “That mean you're not going to have dinner with me until tomorrow?”

  Tara twisted the ends of her hair around her fingers. Five very long months since she'd been hit on by anyone reasonably attractive and it had to be a guy who was way out of her league. She didn't even know how to behave anymore. “I'd have to be an idiot to turn you down for dinner tonight.”

  “I never would have said anything like that about you.” He tugged the towel a little harder, slipping it off her opposite hip.

  She grabbed the towel. “Alright. I'll have dinner with you. When?”

  “Now?”

  “I need to get dressed.”

  “Can I watch?”

  The heat in her belly collided with the chill that ran down her spine. He was so not her type and she could not be his.

  “Too fast?”

  “A little.”

  “Sorry, I'll save it for later.”

  “Do.” The heat consumed the chill as she realized that she might entertain the idea of letting him watch her dress. He was hot. Very hot. Sweating confidence. She'd never been big on tattooed bad boys, but this one had a lot of appeal. Swinging her legs off the beach chair, she let the towel ride up so he could get a good look at them. She'd been told she had good legs and the miles she logged weekly walking to and from school helped. “So do you go by Richard and do you even need to know my name or will I be one of the faceless millions of girls you run through like Kleenex?”

  He laughed and stood up. “You can call me whatever you like and I'd rather know your real name, but I can make one up for you if you won't tell.” He held out his hand.

  “Tara.” She debated the wisdom of taking his hand. If she did, it gave him control. If she didn't it, sent a clear message that she wouldn't be controlled. And if all this wasn't over thinking she didn't know what was. She allowed him to help her up.

  He pulled, bringing her almost into his arms. Fingers laced through hers, he studied her over their clasped hands with a faint smile curving his lips. The towel fell on her feet and she could feel the fabric of his jeans on her legs and his shirt brushing her belly. Sweat trickled down the side of his throat and she had to resist the urge to lick it away. Over thinking? She had not thought about this enough.

  “So, dinner.” His voice had dropped to a purr that pulled at her nerves.

  “That was what you offered.” Her voice wasn't much stronger. Up close his eyes were bluer than breath. She could see the fine stubble on his chin well enough to wonder what it would feel like scraping across her skin. “After I get dressed.”

  “Naturally.” He kissed her fingers. “Should I wait here?”

  “Why don't you?” Tara stepped to the side so she wouldn't trip over her chair. She pointed to the sand a
t his feet. “Right here.”

  “Can I sit down?”

  She glanced at the beach chair she'd just vacated and back at him. Trying to use her best stern teacher face, she glared at him. “Alright, but no further.”

  “Yes, ma'am.” He sat down on the chair with his hands on his knees.

  Tara went back to her room. At least, she wouldn't have to spend hours trying to decide what to wear. She hadn't packed enough clothes to decide between. She stripped off her bikini as she turned on the water in the shower. Stepping under it she reflected once again that the shower was big enough for three people. This time, instead of making her giggle, her breath caught. The blue and white tiled cubicle had a frosted glass door and an adjustable light overhead. Perfect for sex.

  If she was going to get through dinner with any dignity, she needed to stop thinking about sex.

  After her shower, Tara dried off, pulled on a pair of jeans and a yellow tank top, debated make-up, decided against and headed back out to where she left Rick.

  He was sitting on the chair where she left him. He'd propped his feet up and put his hands behind his head. The picture of comfort. And still there. Tara hadn't realized how much she'd been hoping he'd have wandered out of her life the way he wandered in. As soon as she came into his line of vision, he scrambled to his feet. “You look great. Ready?”

  “Wait.” She put up one hand. “I have a question first. Why me?”

  “You looked like you spoke English.” He shrugged and the ripple of his muscles nearly distracted her from her goal.

  She waved her hands. “No, all the girls speak English. It seems to be a job requirement.”

  “Yeah, but they yell in Portugese during sex.”

  “I'm not having sex with you tonight.” Tara folded her arms because that seemed to be the best way to keep her hands to herself.

  “Okay.” He shrugged again, shifting those lovely muscles.

  A fine sweat blanketed her. She wanted to believe it was the sun, but couldn't. “Why are you so agreeable?”

  “Because I'm that kinda guy.”

  ***

  Rick watched her across the table. Watching her from this distance was nicer than watching her from the bar all afternoon, but it was still watching. He wanted to be touching. When he spotted her earlier he'd thought she was cute, but he figured she must be a local girl and there were plenty of them around. Six at the house right now.

  But then he'd watched her blow off a guy who approached her. And then another one. He couldn't hear her voice over the sound of the water, but she didn't act like any local girl. The guy tending bar said she was an American tourist. At that point he hadn't even seen her face. His view of her body wasn't great either, but just the glimpses he got from that angle and the fact that she spoke English was enough to make him take a minute to check her out. Even if she'd been ugly it would have been worth it to talk to somebody who spoke English and wasn't one of his bandmates.

  She wasn't ugly. Long legs, excellent curves, teeny weeny bikini that didn't make him guess about anything, including her interest level. Dark hair he could get lost in, equally dark eyes. Plus, funny. He loved a funny girl.

  “So listen.” He reached across the table and picked up her fingers. She didn't have on any nail polish. All the women who circled the band were made up to the absolute hilt so her short unpolished fingernails fascinated him. “About tonight.”

  “What about tonight?” She set down her spoon. She'd eaten dessert. He liked a woman who ate like a human being on a date too.

  “What are you doing later?”

  “Going to bed. Alone.” She gave him that one eyebrow raised superior look that made him really look forward to having her screaming underneath him.

  “Sticking to that, are you?”

  “Yup.”

  He nodded, cursing silently. The hard on he'd been dealing with all afternoon had gone raging watching her eat ice cream. Licking it off the spoon with her tongue and sucking at the hot fudge with her pink lips. She ate ice cream like a porn star and she hadn't been doing it as a come on either. He was going to have to walk her back to her room in a weird crouch because he wouldn't be able to stand up straight. “Yeah, okay.”

  Under the table she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, bumping his in the process. Not on purpose, but because the damn table was tiny. He should have taken her someplace nicer, but she wanted to stay at her moderately priced resort. In town there were nicer places.

  He kept toying with her fingers. “So what about the rest of the evening?”

  “My original plan was to walk down the beach. Then hang out at the bar to see if there was anything interesting going on, followed by TV in my room.”

  “TV?”

  “I need some kind of entertainment before I go to sleep.”

  Like he needed that image in his head right. He wasn't going to be able to walk her back to her room at all now.

  She leaned on the table, thrusting her breasts forward. The tank top wasn't as helpful as the bikini top, but her nipples pressing against the fabric in a way that made him wonder if they were the same color as her soft lips.

  “I could provide that entertainment.”

  She ran her tongue over her lips like she was readying herself for him. “No. You will not see the inside of my room tonight.”

  What about tomorrow? How much patience did he have for this experiment? He studied her face, glossing over her high cheekbones and full lips. He wanted to swim in her dark eyes. No wonder all those guys had approached her on the beach. She was like those mythical sirens he'd read about in school, the one sailors crashed into rocks trying to get to. She might not be the hottest chick in the world, but there was something about her that drew eyes. Like the eyes of every man in this restaurant.

  “What about that walk on the beach?” She stood.

  Well, this could be really painful or really rewarding. At least he hadn't worn tight jeans today. As they walked through the bar to the sand, every man in the place turned to watch her pass, even the ones with women in their laps.

  And then they were on the sand headed out of the pool of light spilling from the resort.

  He was walking on the beach in the moonlight with a woman. How dorky was this? Tara wasn't even holding his hand. The moonlight on the water was nice and the sound of the surf. Nothing like the way he normally hooked up. “You said you were a teacher or something?”

  “I teach English in Conception, Chile.”

  Where hell was Conception, Chile? “Is it nice?”

  Her lips twisted. “It has its moments. Very few moments.”

  “If you hate it that much, why do you stay?”

  “I have an obligation to finish the year.” Her voice had the same tone as when she said he wasn't getting into her bed tonight.

  “And that's the only reason you're staying is because you have this obligation? Is it like a contract? Can they sue if you skip out?”

  “They could sue me in Chile, but it's not really the kind of thing you get extradited for.” She hugged her arms to herself. “But I made a promise and I'm going to complete it. The kids are great, but it's freaking cold all the time.”

  She was stubborn. No point in trying to talk her out of it. “How did you get that job?”

  “A professor in college used to talk about it a lot. It sounded more interesting than settling into a job at home right away.”

  “So you're a teacher?”

  “No, Business Admin, but they really just need somebody who speaks fluent English, had a bachelor's degree and was willing to live through a little hardship.”

  “And that's you.”

  “That's me.”

  “Are you cold or something?”

  “No, why do you ask?” She turned to him.

  He gestured at her. “You keep hugging yourself like you're cold.” She'd had her arms wrapped around herself since they set off from the resort and it was not only robbing him of getting to watch her nipples, but of at l
east holding her hand.

  She dropped her arms and shoved her hands in her back pockets. He still couldn't hold her hand, but her breasts were thrust forward enhancing the view. “You're recording an album down here?” she asked.

  “Yeah. We thought it would be good for us to get away from distractions at home.”

  “And what do you play?”

  “Bass.”

  “And how come you're not recording?”

  “It's not my turn.”

  Tara nodded, not impressed.

  “We have to record each instrument separately and then we mix them later.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Not really.” This one was getting away. He had moonlight, balmy breezes, the waves lapping at their feet, and he was striking out. Unbelievable. Even fame wasn't reeling her in. He needed to be kissing her. “It's nice here.” He stopped.

  “Pretty nice. Not what I was expecting though.” She stopped too. Step one.

  “What did you expect?”

  Looking up at him in the moonlight, she was amazing. “More beach, less hookers. One of my co-workers gave me the recommendation.” Step two required touching her. She still had her hands jammed in her pockets, leaving hand holding out as an option. Where else was she vulnerable?

  He hooked his fingers into the soft angle inside her elbow. A nice tight little corner. Her arm tensed, squeezing his finger. A wave washed up to his feet, as it pulled away it took some of the sand he was standing on with it. Step two was working on him more than he liked. She was supposed to be all breathless and smiley by now. Instead, he couldn't get a deep breath and the ground was literally and figuratively disappearing under his feet. Tinny dance music from the resort competed with the sound of the water.

  Parting her lips, she licked them. “What are you doing?”

  He slid his fingers further around her elbow. “Nothing.”

  “It doesn't feel like nothing,” she said as she allowed herself to be towed closer. She was a little breathless, but not enough. He needed her dizzy with desire. Why wasn't she dizzy with desire?

  “My animal magnetism wasn't working at a distance so I decided you needed to be closer.” He slipped one arm around her back.