Heart of the Music by Kaithlin Shepherd

Heart of the Music Š 2015 by Kaithlin Shepherd All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

Heart of the Music is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing. www.hottreepublishing.com Editing & Formatting: Hot Tree Editing Cover Designer: Claire Smith ISBN 13: 978-0-9944079-8-6 (eCopy Edition)

Contents Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Acknowledgements About the Author About the Publisher

Dedication

This book is for anyone who has ever been scared to fall in love.

Chapter One

5 years ago - Patricia It had been

a hell of a week, so when she got a private invitation to attend a show from a new, upcoming band, Patricia jumped on it. After being dumped by her boyfriend and losing one of her PR firm's most lucrative clients, she figured she could use a good time…and some whiskey; okay, make that a lot of whiskey.

This band was supposed to be the next best thing, and judging by the crowd, they were definitely a hit with the ladies.

The bartender handed her a drink—whiskey straight up—just as the lights went off and the music started to play. Patricia turned around to face the stage, and the minute she saw him, she forgot to breathe. He was sexy as sin; every single one of her fantasies pulled into one irresistible package. His body was to die for and her eyes were drawn to his broad shoulders. A few tattoos peeked out from under his T-shirt. His jeans were tight—as God intended— and when he opened his mouth to sing, it was like something inside of her came alive. The man could sing; she had to give him that.

She was captivated by his voice, and after a couple of lines, he locked eyes with her. It felt like her world was being thrown off its axis. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. It was the kind of attraction she'd only read about, the kind you felt deep down in

your soul, down to your toes, one that could change your whole life.

With effort, she pulled her gaze from his to look around the room. The audience was mesmerized by the men on stage. They had that something which made them unique. Her eyes found his once again. Was she crazy to think he was singing directly to her?

Guys like that did not flirt with her, but she felt his energy like a second skin. By the time the show ended, she was blown away by their talent and knew she wanted to work with them. So she made her way to their merchandise table. In her line of work, you either had the guts to take a risk or you missed out on a great opportunity, and she wasn't about to pass up this chance.

"Hi, honey. What can I do you for?" an older man asked as she looked at the products.

"I'll take a CD, please." She handed him the twenty-dollar bill and took the CD he handed her. "Saints and Sinners‌good name."

Somehow it fit the guys she'd just spent an hour captivated by. She had a feeling they could sin with the best of them, but she also didn't doubt they had what it took to play music for a living.

"The band are going to be big someday. They just need that lucky break," the older man stated with a smile. Maybe coming here tonight had been more than just about checking out some band on the rise; maybe this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

After spending weeks feeling like she was in a rut, she found herself excited at the possibility of working with them.

She offered her hand to him. "Patricia Monroe, I'm a publicist, and I think I might be that lucky break." She took her time to observe the man's reaction. A lot could be said about the type of people a band surrounded themselves with.

"Well then, honey, go on back. These guys could use a woman like you," he said, pointing to the backstage door. He gave the security guard a heads up that she was good.

The moment she spotted him, she reminded herself that this was business and she couldn't let herself lust after this man. For heaven's sake, she didn't even know his name.

As she walked toward him, he turned around at the sound of her clicking heels. When their eyes met, she stopped dead in her tracks.

The intensity she'd seen in the man on stage was nothing compared to his intensity right now.

With a heart-stopping smile, he greeted her. "Hi." His voice was soft and raspy, like a well-aged scotch you'd want to enjoy down to the last sip. He held out his hand to her. "I'm Jarrod."

So, her fantasy man's name was Jarrod. "Patricia."

"So, Patricia, what can I do for you?" Sexual innuendo filled his voice, and judging by the flicker of lust in his eyes, he meant it that way. She could only imagine the kind of indecent proposals this man received on a daily basis.

"You guys are really good," she managed to say, without sounding like a complete idiot. Having this kind of instant reaction to someone was new for her. She didn't know why, but there was something about him that drew her forward. He was like a magnet pulling her closer and closer.

"Thanks. So, I've never seen you around at any of our shows before. Is this your first time?"

She wondered how many women had done exactly what she was doing right now.

Heat caressed her cheeks as she reeled in her lust and dirty ideas before they got the better of her, and answered, "It was. Thanks for making it painless."

"Always happy to pleasure a beautiful woman." Somehow, she didn't doubt that for a minute.

"I'm sure you are and that you're very good at it, but that isn't why I'm here, as tempting as the offer is." She prayed her nose wasn't growing, because that was a lie if she'd ever told one. She wanted this man like she wanted her next breath, but she had to focus on the task at hand.

"Sass, I like that. So if you're not back here to test my skills behind closed doors, what can I help you with?" She kept her eyes on him as he leaned against the wall; the man definitely had a body made for sinful pleasure.

"It's more about what I can do for you. Have you ever thought about getting a publicist? Because if so, I'm your girl."

Present Day – Patricia Standing side-stage like she had done more times than she could remember over the last five years, Patricia couldn't tear her eyes away from Jarrod Banks. As the lead singer of the hottest act in country music, he was one of the world's most eligible and infamous bachelors, while putting his musical traditions to shame.

The man was pure perfection. Without his shirt, she could enjoy the view of his tattoos; full sleeves on both arms, an angel over his left pectoral, and his family crest on his back. Women went crazy for those tattoos, something she understood all too well. His shoulderlength, dark brown hair dripped with sweat, and she swore the temperature in the stadium climbed a few degrees when he turned and winked at her.

She was a cerebral woman, and deep down, she knew nothing could ever happen between them. How would it look if word got out that she was having an affair with her client? It wasn't a secret that her feelings for Jarrod ran much deeper than friendship, and no amount of denying it to herself or others would ever change that, but as the band's publicist and long-time friend, it was her job to keep everything neat and orderly. However, she was also a woman, and if she couldn't touch, she could very well look, and what a fine sight it was.

The show was about to end after two encores, and all she wanted was a good night's sleep. They were on the first week of a brand new tour, and the interview schedule had been grueling for

both the guys and her. Although she wouldn't admit it to anyone, she had no idea how she was still standing. The last few days had been twenty-hour work days, and even though she loved her job, right then, all she really wanted to do was sleep. Working with Saints and Sinners was her entire life; it was all she knew anymore.

The guys had become her family, but sometimes life would be easier if she didn't have to see Jarrod every day.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she smiled at Derek, their tour manager, as he offered her a tall cup of coffee. Inhaling its scent, she couldn't remember ever being so thankful for caffeine. "Thanks, Derek. I needed this," she admitted, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"No problem, Trish. You looked like you needed it." God knows he did too. For most people looking on, this life was all glamour, but if they could only see what it was really like, they wouldn't think that for too long. Derek had been with them since the beginning, and she might be responsible for putting the guys on magazine covers, but Derek was the one who made the whole machine work.

"You have no idea. This is harder than the other tours—I must be getting old." She loved this crew, because they weren't simply that. They were a family, and there was no way she could ever walk away from them; but lately, some of the things she'd loved most about her job were the things she was starting to find less appealing. As the show came to an end, she could barely hear herself think over the screams of the 20,000 fans gathered in the stadium.

Tyler, Austin, Mike, Sam, and Jarrod stepped off the stage looking every inch like the superstars they were, all sweaty and high from the energy of the crowd. After every show, the first thing each of the guys did was walk up to her to give her a hug. It started after their first sold out show, and it was just one of those things that stuck. Tonight was no different.

Tyler Pipes was the sweetest person she knew. He had his share of dark clouds from a rough childhood, but that didn't take anything away from the size of his heart. As he approached her, she took in his six-foot frame and light blond hair, which fell to below his shoulders. His bare chest and feet were covered in tattoos, and drove women crazy.

"Good show tonight, Tyler!" she told him as he hugged her. His sweat pressed against her clothes and when she tried to push him away, he snuggled her closer, making her giggle.

"A little off beat on some songs, but the crowd didn't seem to notice." She had to agree with him. She doubted the crowd noticed anything except how amazing the band's live show was.

Austin Collins, lead guitarist for the band, was every female fan's fantasy. His dark hair and light blue eyes made women fall at his feet. "Sweetheart, I swear you get more gorgeous every show!" he said, laughing and spinning her around as he always did.

"Put me down, you big idiot, you're going to hurt yourself."

Smiling, he placed her on her feet, then before walking away, he leaned into her and whispered, "You could let me show you just how gorgeous I think you are."

She erupted into laughter, pushing him away with her hands on his chest. "In your dreams, Austin. Now go shower, you stink."

As Austin walked away, Mike Caves made it off the stage with more bras in his hands than she could count. "Popular man tonight, Mike," she said to the guitarist as he hugged her tight against his sweaty chest.

"Yeah, but I'm still waiting for yours, baby." She laughed his comment off just as Jarrod made his way to her drenched in sweat, looking so sexy she almost had an orgasm right there and then, just by looking at him.

"Let her breathe, Mike. You're suffocating the poor woman, and it's my turn!" Just the sound of his voice made her skin burn.

Over the years, her attraction to Jarrod had become something she couldn't deny, but she would fight it until her last breath. When

she looked up and saw him leaning against the beam, wearing nothing but those tight-as-sin jeans, her whole body shivered.

There was a look in his eyes she had never noticed before a few months ago, something animalistic that made her ache with need; primal, almost possessive.

Standing there, he looked so lost in his own thoughts that she almost didn't want to bother him. Whatever he was thinking about, he looked beautiful and at peace. "Where were you just now, Mr. Rock Star?" she finally asked him.

Walking over to her, he hugged her tightly against his chest.

"Sorry, I was just taking a trip down memory lane, but this right here is much better," he told her, kissing the top of her head. She loved it when he did that; it made her feel cherished.

"All right, smooth talker, get your sweaty paws off me before I'm the one who needs a shower." Her voice was shaky to say the least. She hated how he had the ability to get to her with his words or just by being near her.

She was a professional, grounded woman, yet one word from this man and she was reduced to a pile of lust and dirty fantasies, which she had no right to have about someone she worked for. But Jarrod's pull on her was something straight out of a movie. She just couldn't draw away from him no matter how hard she tried.

He lowered his head to her ear and whispered, "You could always join me."

Images of the two of them in the shower made her shiver. She knew she had to get a handle on her emotions before they controlled her actions, because nothing good would come of that, especially for the people around them. "You think you could handle me, Banks? I'm not one of your groupies," she said, running her hands up and down his bare back.

She loved touching him; the feel of his skin against her fingers always captivated her. She was pretty lucky in that department, as he ended most shows shirtless. But tonight there was something in

the way he held her, something different in the way he made her feel. She felt desired, like she was the only woman he had eyes for.

He pulled away from her just enough so he could look into her eyes. "I don't know, babe, but if you keep doing that, we're going to find out; because feeling your hands on my skin is making it fucking hard to control my impulses right now." At the sound of his words, she stopped moving her hands, but didn't pull them away.

For what seemed like an eternity, they stood staring at each other, their breathing getting heavier with lust and sexual tension surrounding them.

"Hey, you two, go get a room." At the sound of Sam's voice, Patricia pulled away from Jarrod's embrace.

Jarrod let her go and gave Sam a quick hug before turning his attention back to her, making her shiver as his voice washed over her. "One day."

"What was that all about? You two looked mighty flushed," Sam said, pulling her into his embrace. Since the first night she had met Sam Brooks, he'd become like the big brother she'd never had.

Her confidant and best friend, she told him everything, including how she felt about the infamous front man.

"That was just us being us," she said, pulling away from him.

"Come on, let's walk."

As they strode toward Sam's dressing room, he put his arm around her waist. "You know you should just tell him how you feel, right? And don't give me some nonsense about professional ethics and how you're not his type, because, sweetheart, if you don't see the way he looks at you, we need to get you some glasses."

"You know it's more complicated than that, Sam. He's Jarrod‌.

He dates supermodels and actresses, and has a wild reputation. I'm little ol’ me, who works for the man and hasn't been on a date or gotten laid in over fourteen months," she said with exasperation in her voice, remembering how long it had been since she'd felt a man's hands on her. Working around the clock didn't leave much

time for a personal life—one of the many sacrifices she had to make to enjoy their lifestyle.

"And why is that? It's because you compare every man to Jarrod, and God only knows why, because the man is far from perfect."

"He doesn't need to be perfect, Sam. He just needs to be himself," she explained as they arrived in front of his dressing room. The band had come a long way in the last five years; from sleeping in sleazy motels and playing dive bars to staying in the best hotels and playing stadiums, and traveling in two buses. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge in Sam's dressing room and sat down beside him on the futon. "The show was good tonight. The crowd was crazy, and every reporter I spoke with during the show, loved it."

Sam was one of the best-looking guys she knew. He was tall, dark, and drop-dead gorgeous, but he wasn't the type to flash it around like Mike did. He was the quiet kind, never got hung up with groupies, never made the tabloids. He was the perfect country star; but it was easy to see that beneath his hard surface, there were demons fighting for his attention. "We were a little off at some places. We're still getting our bearings for this tour. It's crazy to think there were 20,000 people out there waiting to see us perform.

I still remember when we had a hard time getting a hundred people to come see us live."

"You guys have earned it, Sam. You've worked your asses off to get to where you are. This is what you've always wanted, what you guys have dreamed about for years." This tour was the biggest steppingstone of their career, making it hard for her to bring up the fact that she was considering changing professions. She couldn't drop that on them in the middle of the tour and not with a new album in the works on top of everything else.

"So have you, Trish. We wouldn't be here without you. You forget that, and it pisses me the fuck off when you do. Hell, you've put more energy into this band than anyone else, including us.

You've made us your life, and don't think we don't know all the sacrifices you had to make and all of the opportunities you've turned down for us."

"I've believed in you guys since the first night in that crappy bar, Sam. That's never going to change."

"It's a shame you can't put that kind of faith in Jarrod, Trish.

You've been putting your life on hold for the last five years for us.

Don't you think you deserve to be happy? And don't tell me Jarrod isn't what would make you happy, because we all know that's a damn lie. I love you like a sister, Trish, but one day, he's going to get sick of waiting around for you to trust him, and he'll either take what he wants or he'll walk away. What happens then? What happens when you can't fight it anymore?"

"I don't know. I just can't think about it, all right? Now, enough talk. Go shower, you stink. I'll meet you on the bus." How was she supposed to tell him that working in PR wasn't making her happy anymore? What if they hated her for wanting to do something else with her life? They were her family, and there was no way she could lose them.

Sam took off his shirt and dropped it on the floor, looking at her with a smile that told her this conversation was the furthest thing from over. "Fine, I'll drop it for now. Get some sleep, Trish. You look like shit. Whatever is going on in that head of yours, we've all noticed that something has been off with you lately. So when you're ready to trust us with whatever that is, we'll all be here for you." She hated how he could read her so well. It made it so damn hard to hide things from him and the rest of the band.

As she made her way to the bus to wait for the guys, she said hi to every member of the crew she came across. She loved every single person on this tour, and she knew they worked ten times harder than she did to make sure every show happened without a hitch. She made sure to treat everyone as she would like to be treated, and they all loved her for it.

"Miss Monroe? Miss Monroe, wait up." Patricia turned around to see the youngest member of their crew, David, the son of one of the sound engineers. As he approached, she knelt down to be at the same height as the six-year-old. As soon as he reached her, she opened her arms and he walked straight into her embrace. "Hey, David, how's my favorite sound assistant doing tonight?"

The little boy pulled away and tugged something from his backpack. "I made this for you today. You can hang it in the bus to make it more pretty." David handed her a piece of paper, and when she opened it, she almost cried. This was why making this tour as family friendly as possible was so important to them. Their crew members all had families now, and making them feel like they were family, not just mere employees, was why they stuck around.

He had drawn her a beautiful butterfly. "Ah, David, this is beautiful‌. I'm going to hang it on the fridge for everyone to see."

From afar, Patricia could hear David's dad, Eric, calling for his son.

"You should go see your dad, but thank you so much for this, honey." And just like that, the little boy went running back to his dad.

Jarrod He watched as she talked to David, and it didn't matter how many times he watched her interact with their crew or their family, she still blew his fucking mind away. She had the kind of beauty that made a man want things he didn't deserve. Every time he saw her, he thought about the first night he'd met her and how she'd changed his life. The only thing he hadn't planned for back then was for her to fight their attraction so much. She had transformed it into an art form, and no matter how hard he tried to push his way in, she seemed determined to keep him out. However, over the past couple of months, something had changed. She'd become more responsive

and open, and he loved that about her, but she was still holding back a part of herself.

"Man, you have that kid wrapped around your fingers," he yelled from the sound blocks he was leaning against.

When she heard his voice, she jumped, and he couldn't hold back his laughter. "Oh, my God, you scared me. What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?"

"Sam texted, asking me to drive you to the hotel so you could get some sleep. So here I am, your knight in shining armor." He saw the look in her eyes, the one that said Sam was going to get a piece of her mind. He had been just as surprised as she was when Sam's message arrived, but he would be a fool to pass up the chance to spend time alone with her.

"I can wait for the other guys. I don't need a babysitter, Jarrod."

He hated the way she always insisted on being treated like one of the guys, because to him, she was anything but. She didn't want them to treat her any differently, but right now, all he saw on her face were signs of exhaustion.

With one long stride, he stood inches away from her. "You may not need a babysitter, but judging by the dark circles under your eyes, you need to sleep. So I'm taking you straight to the hotel."

When she hesitated, he added, "Plus, I really don't feel like getting the third degree from Sam for not doing as he asked. So if you won't do it for you, please do it for me. The man scares me."

Heat radiated through his chest when she didn't argue, and he didn't hold back his smile. He had to admit, using the Sam card might have been pushing his luck, but the man was her best friend, and Jarrod wasn't against using any weapon at his disposal.

The car ride back to the hotel was made up of small talk about the show, the children's hospital visit that was coming up in a few days, and chatting with their driver for the night. She kept their conversation about work, which he knew was something she did when she felt vulnerable. "Did Derek fill you in about the changes in the schedule for next week?"

"Yeah, he did. You know, you don't have to work yourself into the ground, Trish. And don't start with how you're not and all that crap, because I've got eyes that work perfectly fine. You look like you haven't slept in days," he told her, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

He hated seeing her so damn tired all the time, while doing something he knew she didn't love anymore. It was as clear to him as the sun in the sky that she didn't love her job as much as she used to, but something was making her hold back from telling the band—more specifically, him—about it, and he couldn't put his finger on what it was. They would support her, no matter what, she had to know that.

"The beginning of a new tour is always crazy, you know that.

It's going to calm down in the next couple of days, and I'll be able to get more sleep." He laughed because they both knew that was a lie.

"Trish, it never calms down. When it's not interviews, it's shows and travel time. When was the last time you went out on a date?"

He realized it was a selfish thing to ask, but he didn't care. This thing between them was getting out of control, and it was becoming harder and harder not to act on it. Finding reasons not to take what he wanted had been easy five years ago, but justifying staying away from her wasn't as easy as it used to be.

"I date…," she whispered, looking at him from the corner of her eye. When he stared back with a look that said, 'Don't bullshit me,' he watched her swallow her pride. "Okay, so maybe I don't actually date. It's not like men are falling at my door here, Jar." "Maybe one would if you would give it a shot," was all he said.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Round one was definitely his tonight.

The rest of the ride to the hotel was quiet. When they got to her room, she took out her key and opened the door. Before she got the chance to kick him out, he leaned against the doorframe, one foot inside her room.

"Okay, you brought me back to the hotel, saving yourself from Sam's wrath. Now you can go see what the bar has to offer in terms of female diversity tonight."

He didn't give her a chance to stop him; he pushed his way inside, smiling from ear to ear. "Nah, I'm good right here. Plus, Sam said you hadn't slept since the tour started, so I'm going to stay right here until you're sound asleep." And there it was, the look that gave her away every time, the one that said being alone with him was a test on her control and restraint.

He watched her walk to the chair by the window, his eyes glued to her swaying, tempting hips. When she took off her jacket, a wave of lust hit him, making it fucking hard to breathe. "Damn."

Her entire back was on display for him, calling to him like a siren's song.

As soon as the word was out of his mouth, she spun around to look at him "What? What is it?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and narrowing her eyes. He walked toward her, took her hand in his, and turned her around so that she faced the window.

"Thank God you had a jacket on, or else I would have been late for the show." She tried to turn, but he held her in place. He took his time letting his hands roam over her bare back. God, she had the softest skin he'd ever felt. He could spend the rest of his life touching her and he would die a happy man.

"It's just a shirt, Jarrod, not a Victoria's Secret runway show," she whispered.

"This shirt has got to be one of the hottest things I've ever seen you in. You're so damn sexy, and you don't even seem to know it."

And that pissed him off. Her body made him want to do things he shouldn't, but he was just a man, and there was only so much temptation a man could resist.

"Okay, enough, Romeo," she said, pulling away from his grip.

"Seriously, you are not staying here until I fall asleep. I'm not a child," she argued, walking to the bathroom.

Still facing the window, he went in for the kill. The one good thing about waiting for five years for her was that he knew exactly what made her tick. "Afraid to be alone with me?"

He heard her laugh from the bathroom. "You wish, Banks, you wish." She could deny it until her last breath, but he knew she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

When she came out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later, Jarrod thought his heart might jump out of his chest. She wore his old Alabama T-shirt that he had given her years ago. He kept quiet, aware she would be uncomfortable if he spoke; but that didn't stop him from admiring the vision standing in front of him.

Patricia She had never felt more stupid in her entire life. Of all the things to sleep in, the only thing that wasn't on the bus was his old Alabama T-shirt. When she saw him lying on the bed, the silliness of what she was wearing quickly morphed into lust. He had taken his shoes and socks off, as well as his shirt. And boy, it was a sight she would never tire of seeing.

"What are you doing half-naked on my bed?" she asked him, wrapping her hands around herself, hoping it would somehow cover her body. She knew how ridiculous she was being, but the man was pure perfection, and, well, she had curves.

"I'm tired, you're tired‌. After all of these years, I know for a fact you sleep better when there's someone in bed with you, sharing a bus with you has taught me a few things, so I'm volunteering."

He had his hands behind his head, leaning against the pillows, and she knew he wasn't going anywhere. Damn him and his stubborn attitude.

"Oh no, hell no! Jarrod, get up, get dressed, and go sleep in your room. I am not sleeping with you." There was no way she could handle sleeping in the same bed as him.

He sat up on the bed and looked at her from head to toe. She felt his eyes on every inch of her skin, slowly setting her body on fire.

"I promise I'll keep my hands to myself. Trish, you need to sleep. I need to do the same. What's the problem?"

"Where do you want me to start?" she said, moving to the side of the bed, feeling the body heat rolling off him in waves.

She was so tired that she considered not arguing with him anymore. She knew he wasn't going anywhere. Five years of dealing with the man told her that once he had his mind set on something, there was no changing it.

"You know that no matter what you say, I'm not leaving this bed. So why don't you quit thinking I'm going to take advantage of you, climb into bed, and get some sleep." The hint of laughter in his voice made her weak in the knees. Silent and defeated, she climbed into bed and slipped under the covers. Before she could turn on her side away from him and put some much needed distance between the two of them, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her flush against him. With her head on his chest, she felt his heartbeat against her cheek. She fought hard to remember why staying away from him was for the best.

"Don't try anything, Banks," she whispered against his skin.

Chapter Two

4 1/2 years ago – Patricia Patricia woke up

to the smell of coffee, and more importantly, she was fully rested. She didn't know what time it was and, if she were being honest, she didn't care. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so refreshed. She climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she washed all traces of makeup from her face and made her way to the kitchen.

When she walked in, she almost stopped breathing at the sight that greeted her. Jarrod was cooking breakfast wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, which were resting low on his hips. She couldn't tear her eyes from the way the muscles in his back moved every time he reached for something. The man had a body that was made for a woman's pleasure, she couldn't deny that. As if he sensed her staring at him, he turned around and gave her a wink. When his eyes traveled down her body, she felt underdressed in nothing but his shirt, but now wasn't the time to let her insecurities get the best of her.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he told her as he handed her a cup of coffee, her drug of choice. It was the one thing she couldn't live without—okay, make that the second thing, if you considered Jarrod himself.

HEART OF THE MUSIC

"Good morning. What time is it?" she asked before taking a sip of coffee, which, of course, was brewed to perfection.

"It's a little past eleven. Okay, so we have: pancakes, bacon— and, yes, it's turkey bacon, God help me—fresh fruit, and orange juice," he said, putting everything on the breakfast counter on display in front of her.

She picked up a strawberry before turning to him. "Okay, I'm going to have breakfast here every day. I didn't know you could cook." There was nothing the man standing in front of her couldn't do. It was unsettling to think that some other woman would get this treatment the next time they were home. That stung, even though she had no right to claim this privilege.

"My mom figured we could use some skills to impress women.

So, impressed yet?" She knew he was teasing her, and she loved every second of it. She wasn't about to tell him that anything he did impressed her, so she took a bite out of one of the pancakes and moaned softly. "I'll take that as a yes."

"These are so good," she said blissfully, shoving another piece into her mouth. "Now that I know you can make these, I'm going to ask for these every morning." The man could seriously cook; she would have to remember that and make use of it any chance she got.

"Anytime, babe, just ask." Jarrod’s sole focus was on her, his gaze intense; it felt as if he were seeing right through her. She tore her eyes away from him because if he saw what she was hiding, if he caught a glimpse of her feelings for him, nothing would ever be the same, and that just couldn't happen.

Present Day – Patricia She woke up the next morning sprawled across a warm, toned body, her head on a solid chest with an arm around her waist and their legs intertwined. For a minute, she thought she was dreaming, 2

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and then the memories of the night before hit her. With one swift movement, she was off the bed. Frozen, she stood and watched him as he slept. How was this a good idea? The barriers around her heart crumbled as he stirred and his eyes opened, and that scared her to death. This was exactly what she had been avoiding for the past five years.

"Good morning." Jarrod's voice sent shivers racing through her body. Primal hunger darkened his eyes, and in that moment, she realized she was standing in front of one of the sexiest men in country music with tousled hair, no makeup, and wearing an old Tshirt, which didn't hide much. She couldn't help but think back to that morning years ago when he gave her the shirt. After a long night in the studio, she had fallen asleep on the sofa and he had tucked her into bed in his spare bedroom with one of his old tees.

In the morning, she hadn't been able to make herself give it back.

Since then, every time she felt lonely or sad, she wore it.

"You know, I don't think I've ever woken up with such a beautiful woman. I might get used to waking up with you, Miss Monroe." She wanted to believe him, God, she wanted to believe him with everything she had, but images of him and the multiple women he'd dated over the years flashed in front of her eyes, reminding her that she was nothing like them.

She started laughing and she couldn't get herself to stop. "Until a Victoria's Secret model comes along maybe." She knew it was a low blow, but she needed some emotional distance from him. He threatened to tear down all of her resistance, and she knew if he succeeded, there would be no going back. The only thing that scared her more than taking this chance with him was the possibility of a broken heart she would never recover from.

"Glad to see you think so highly of me there, Trish." The hurt on his face made her ache. Even if he had his share of women, supermodels or not, she knew he never cheated, never led women on, and she admired that about him. He might have been with a lot of women, but he always made sure they knew exactly what to 3

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expect going in, and not once did he ever make any of them feel cheap or small.

She climbed back into the bed and kissed him on the cheek, her body on autopilot. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

She sat back, and was startled when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, her cheek touching his.

There was something deeply intense about the way they held on to each other in that moment. She hadn't expected this, but it felt too good and too right to fight him or pull away. Her lips brushed his neck as she felt the warmth of his body through her old T-shirt. His fingers dug into her hip, as if he were trying to hold on to the moment. Her body responded to every touch, every breath he took, like it had been made for him.

Without being aware of it, she rocked her hips toward him and felt his fingers tighten on her skin. She would probably have a bruise on her hip, and instead of scaring her, she relished in the possibility of having his brand on her. Jarrod turned his head slightly and whispered her name like a prayer, sending an ache through her body she knew only he could fill. Their eyes met and she knew he was going to kiss her. But before he could, there was a knock at the door, and Sam's voice calling her name, which broke the spell. The moment she'd done everything to avoid and would give everything to have again.

"Trish? Are you in there? Come on, open the door." Sam's voice made her aware of what she was getting ready to do, and she shook her head as the lust-filled haze around them disappeared. She could not have sex with Jarrod; it would change, and jeopardize, everything they had all worked so hard to build. Most importantly, it would mean risking her heart, and she knew if things went wrong, she would never recover.

Without saying a word, she walked to the door and opened it to find Sam standing there with three coffees and croissants. "I'll take the flush on your face as an indication that Jarrod is still here?"

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When she didn't argue, he stepped inside. "Good, then we can all have breakfast."

"Sam, your timing is probably the worst ever," she heard Jarrod say from the bed.

Acting like he didn't know he had just interrupted something, he laughed and said, "Because yours is so much better there, buddy.

Five years and you couldn't find the right time."

Patricia looked at both of them. God, she couldn't handle this right now. "I'm going to go take a shower. Think you guys can behave?"

Before she closed the bathroom door, she heard both of them say, "Nope," and then laughter filled the room.

She closed the bathroom door and leaned her back against the cold surface, wondering what would have happened if Sam hadn't knocked when he had. With her hands in her hair, she shook her head. "Shit." She knew something had changed between the two of them in the last couple of months. They had always been flirty with each other, but the intensity of their connection had increased to a boiling point.

Jarrod When she had climbed into bed with him the night before, it had felt like he had been handed a gift so precious he was afraid he would destroy it. Then this morning, when she pressed her lips against his cheek, he almost lost it. The urge to throw her down, get on top of her, and explore every inch of her body with his hands and tongue was almost too much for him to resist. But he knew her and her body language better than anyone, and in that moment, she'd been vulnerable. He knew he would hate himself if he made a move on her when she was like this. He wanted her fully on board, mentally and physically, when they took their relationship in that direction, and he wouldn't take anything less from her.

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When Sam knocked on the door and interrupted the moment he had been anticipating for such a long time, he wanted to fucking punch his friend and thank him at the same time. With Trish locked away in the bathroom, he looked over at Sam, who had taken a seat by the window, giving him a look that said everything, causing them both to laugh.

"What did I interrupt just now?" Sam asked while taking a sip of his coffee. Jarrod loved the man like a brother, but there was no way he was sharing such an emotionally charged moment with anyone, not even him.

Jarrod took a bite of his croissant and smiled. "You don't want to know, trust me." They both laughed again. "I felt her walls drop last night, Sam, and fuck, it felt so fucking good to have her with me like that."

"You've both been dancing around each other for a long-ass time. It's bound to blow up." He knew Sam was right, but getting Trish to see it that way wasn't easy.

"Has she talked to you lately? There's something on her mind, but she won't open up to me about it," Jarrod asked, knowing Sam was the only other person she would confide in.

"She'll talk to you when she's ready. Give her time." So Sam knew what was going on with her. Well, at least she was talking to someone.

Twenty minutes later, Trish walked out of the bathroom, her hair still wet from the shower, wearing jeans and a George Strait T-shirt.

It didn't matter what she wore, if she was dressed up or dressed down, she was so damn beautiful. He could look at her all day and never get tired of her. Her wavy brown hair went down below her shoulders, framing the most beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen on a woman before. He had heard so many times that the eyes were the window to the soul, but before meeting Trish, he hadn't 6

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understood just what that meant. Her eyes told him everything he needed to know. They told him when she was sad, when she was happy, and when she doubted herself. His eyes traveled down her curvy body. Fuck, he loved her curves. She wasn't thin or heavy.

She had curves in all the right places, and a body toned by her workouts.

When both he and Sam looked at her from head to toe, she tossed her hands in the air. "What? It's a travel day. Give me a break."

Sam snorted and walked over to the door. "And on that note, I'm going to go check out. Jar, your stuff is already on the bus. Derek is waiting in the lobby. It's not pretty outside, so don't be late. We're on a schedule."

Jarrod watched her as she walked over to Sam and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the coffee." Her voice barely registered over the ringing in his ears. He knew it was ridiculous, but he wanted her lips on him and him alone—no one said he was a rational man.

When Sam left the room, he got out of bed, and when he caught her looking at him and licking her lips, he swore this was some sort of test. It was a test he wasn't opposed to failing if it meant having her look at him that way for the rest of his life. "If you keep looking at me like that, we are definitely going to miss bus call, and you know how Derek gets when we're late."

Half an hour later, they were both ready to head out to the bus.

Standing in the hallway, waiting for the elevator, she looked out the window. "It got bad pretty quickly out there. It's pouring now."

They could hear the wind had picked up against the hall windows. "Damn, that's some storm," he agreed.

"No? Really? I hadn't noticed," she mocked him, punching his arm as she laughed. God, he loved her hands on him. When the doors opened, he let her go in first. She dropped her overnight bag on the floor and pressed the lobby button.

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Looking straight at the door, she whispered, "Thank you for last night. I really needed that."

Her words took him by surprise. She never expressed gratitude for taking care of her; hell, she barely let him take care of her in the first place. "Never thought I would hear those words coming from you," he said jokingly.

"Funny, very funny, Jar." As she said the words, the elevator came to a complete stop, jerking her forward, straight into his arms. "What the hell was that?"

"That was me saving your gorgeous face from hitting the floor," he said as he steadied her back on her feet, even if all he wanted to do was keep her body glued to his.

"Be serious for a minute here. What was that? Oh, God, the elevator isn't moving," she said in a panic.

He knew she didn't like confined spaces, so he put his hands on each of her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Breathe, sweetheart, everything is going to be fine." The minute he felt her calm down, he pressed the emergency phone, and a few seconds later, a man's voice came on the intercom.

"Is everyone all right?" the man asked. He looked at Patricia, who fought hard to keep herself calm, and he shook his head, hating to see her like that.

"We're fine," Jarrod replied. "What happened?" he asked the man, desperate to know how long they would be stuck in the elevator.

"The storm blew out the power source, sir. We're trying to get it fixed now, but it might take a while." The man sounded just as annoyed with the situation as he was, but when he looked at Trish, he had to admit there were worse things in life than being stuck in a confined space with her.

He saw panic rise in her again when the man's words registered. "How long is a while?" she asked.

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"Ma'am, our mechanical team says that it should take about an hour for us to get the power back on. Is anyone else in the elevator?" the man asked.

"No. It's just us two. Listen, this is Jarrod Banks. Is there any way you could let the guys, who are probably all in the lobby right now, know what's going on?"

"Of course, Mr. Banks. You two just sit tight and we'll have you out of there in no time." The pitch of the man's voice told Jarrod he knew exactly who he was. He was happy to use his celebrity status to get things done, but for the first time, he hoped the guy wouldn't rush to get them out.

"Where the hell are we going to go?" Patricia mumbled under her breath. He couldn't help but smile at God's sense of humor for sticking them in a broken elevator after the night they had spent together. He needed time alone with her, to break through that shell of hers. He knew she had the same feelings for him as he did for her, and this game they were playing had lasted long enough.

"Trish, stop pacing. You're giving me a headache." Jarrod sat on the elevator floor, watching her walk back and forth, and if she didn't stop soon, she was going to burn a hole through the floor. It was something she always did when she was nervous; it was fucking adorable.

"How can you be so calm about this? We're stuck in an elevator, Jarrod!" She almost screamed the words in her panic while still walking the elevator floor.

"I know where we are, Trish, but burning a hole in the floor, and yelling at me won't make the elevator start working any sooner," he told her, a bit aggravated with her attitude.

"I'm sorry," she said, sitting down beside him. "I didn't mean to scream at you. I'm just freaking out a little." He put his hand on her thigh and felt her shiver at his touch. It was now or never.

Patricia 9

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Stuck in an elevator with Jarrod. What had she done to deserve this? Especially after the moment they'd shared that morning. Her senses were on high alert, and being so close to the man responsible for her heightened sexual need was not helping. The moment his hand made contact with her thigh, she bit back a moan of pleasure. A simple touch from him always had her melting and the need for relief of any sort became overwhelming. How was she going to survive this?

"Do you remember the night we first met?" he asked her, his eyes focused on the wall in front of them.

"Jar, what are you doing?" she asked with tremors in her voice.

She couldn't help but wonder where he was going with this. The one thing she did know was that taking a trip down memory lane would not help her get her feelings under control.

"I'm making conversation, so indulge me, okay?" he said, squeezing her thigh harder. She closed her eyes, memorizing the way his touch felt.

For a minute, they both stayed silent, until finally, she decided to end the building suspense. "I remember that night. I'd had one of the worst weeks of my life at work, and I was really looking forward to going out. It was the funniest thing because when you all stepped onto that stage to play, it was like everything that had gone wrong just vanished into thin air. You guys were so good. I just knew you had what it took to make it. Not even two songs in and I had already made up my mind to work with you."

"You want to know something funny about that night?" he asked, not moving his hand. He locked his eyes on her, knocking the breath out of her lungs with the pure lust in them. "You were the first thing I noticed when we stepped onto that stage. I saw you at the bar, a drink in your hand. You caught my eye from the getgo." He didn't give her a chance to say anything; instead, he continued this trip down memory lane.

"You were so damn beautiful that night. You had your hair up in a ponytail with painted-on jeans and a red silk top that was so 10

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damn hot. Every guy in that bar was looking at you, but you seemed so clueless of all the attention you were getting. I sang every song for you that night, and when you came backstage, I was feeling so slick thinking you were feeling what I felt. Do you remember the first thing you said?"

The only thing she could think about was how could he even remember all of that? It had been five years, and though she remembered every detail about that night, she would never have imagined that he did too.

She took a deep breath and tried to keep herself calm as she spoke. "I said, 'It's more about what I can do for you. Have you ever thought of getting a publicist? Because I'm your girl.' You looked so shocked that for a minute, I thought I had something in my teeth." She laughed at the memory of his face when she'd spoken to him. It was the night when everything changed. Her career and her life transformed, because meeting Jarrod had ruined her for any other man.

"You were so damn sexy and confident. I don't know why, but I just knew you were the right fit for us. And then it hit me: I couldn't hit on you or sleep with you if you were going to be working with us." She couldn't quite decipher the look on his face, which was strange, because before that moment, she thought she had known his every expression. But the one he was giving her was new, and made her heart beat faster.

She couldn't do anything but laugh. He was making her nervous, and when she was nervous, she laughed. It was her way of dealing with feelings she didn't know how to handle. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally stopped chuckling, and the look on Jarrod's face went straight to her core.

"You want to tell me why that's so funny to you?" he asked her, making sure she knew he was annoyed by her reaction.

"Come on, Jar, you wanted to sleep with me? There were so many beautiful women there that night that I didn't even have a chance with the bartender, and you expect me to believe that you, 11

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Jarrod Banks, wanted to sleep with this?" she told him, running her hands in the air over her body.

"You're serious, aren't you?" he questioned her in disbelief, taking her aback. "You were the single most beautiful, sexy woman in the bar that night. I didn't want to sleep with you; I wanted to fuck the hell out of you. When you came backstage that night, the minute I saw you, I was rock hard with only one thought running through my head: Where was the closest room I could fuck you in?"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She cursed him for doing this now when she couldn't escape the conversation. "Why are you doing this now, Jar?" He didn't answer her question; instead, he just kept reminiscing.

"Do you remember that first show we did in Florida during spring break?" Whether she liked it or not, he seemed determined to do this. When Jarrod was firm in getting something done, she knew trying to stop him was a waste of time.

"You were so happy we got the gig and didn't give a damn that we had to stay in a cheap motel on the side of the highway, because we got to play, and that was all that mattered. When we went to the beach, you looked so damn cute wearing that coverall, big hat, and sunglasses while sipping on your cold beer. You lay there, watching us as we played volleyball and went for a swim, but you never got in the water. I didn't understand why, because it was so damn hot that day. I knew you and Sam were close, so I asked him. I thought maybe you were scared of the water, and then he told me it was because you didn't want any of us to see you in a swimsuit. I couldn't believe it, and I sure as hell didn't understand it, because you were the sexiest woman on that beach. Do you remember what I did?"

When she got out of this elevator, the first thing she was going to do after taking a cold shower was kill Sam in a very slow and torturous way. She remembered that day like it was yesterday, not four and half years ago.

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She didn't know what possessed her to answer him, but she did.

"How could I not remember what you did? I was sipping on my beer, enjoying the view of you guys shirtless, sweating, and playing volleyball—" He laughed at her comment, and she noticed he blushed. "Come on, as if you didn't know you were the hottest guy on the beach that day—you guys probably still would be today, too. Anyway, you came over to me asking me to go swimming with you, and I told you I was fine staying right where I was, but you weren't having it. After a few tries, you stopped asking and went back to play volleyball. I thought I was good, and then you came back to ask me if I wanted to go scuba diving. You knew I wouldn't be able to say no to that." She took a moment to gather her thoughts as she relived that day. He had been relentless, and looking back, she was thankful for it because it had turned into one of the best days of her life.

"But you know what got to me most that day? It was the fact that you remembered how obsessed I was with scuba diving. After you said those words, I didn't care one bit about what I looked like in a bathing suit. I put my beer down, took my hat and sunglasses off, and slipped out of my cover-up." That day had been so special for her. It was one of the first times in her life where she fully let go of her insecurities about her curvy body. It was a day that changed how she looked at herself. She still had those moments of doubts, but she was happy with her body now. He had helped her accept her curves; he'd made her feel beautiful.

He gripped her thigh tighter and pulled her leg closer to him.

"When you took off that cover-up, I forgot how to breathe. I had pictured your body so many times before then, but nothing measured up to the real thing. To this day, that is one of the best days of my life. We went diving, and the look on your face was priceless. Then we spent time on the boat catching some rays, and you were so at ease that you forgot all about your insecurities of me seeing you in a swimsuit. When we got back to shore, we

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changed and went out for a drink at this little roadside dive bar. We talked until 3 a.m. It was perfect."

They both sat there in silence for a few minutes until she spoke up. "You do that to me."

"I do what to you?" he asked her.

For a minute, she let herself be vulnerable. "You make me forget all of my insecurities. It doesn't matter what they are or who created them. Every time you look at me or touch me, they disappear." She took a deep breath as she waited for him to say or do something.

When he didn't speak, she decided that since they were going down memory lane, she would clear up some of her own questions.

"Why did you stop that night?" She didn't have to tell him what night she was talking about; she knew he would know exactly what she was referring to. But just in case, she went on, "All night, I was watching you with that blonde bimbo, and I couldn't see what you saw in her. Then you came over and we started drinking. We were having fun, but then you…you…" She couldn't look at him as she continued reliving one of the most humiliating moments of her life.

"And then you kissed me and I…."

"And you what, Trish?" He took her face in his hands and turned her, so she had no other choice but to look at him.

"Damn you, I was so turned on. It was like you were reading my mind that night, like you knew what I wanted, what I needed, but then you stopped. I was so angry. I was so hot and you left me like that. You said you wanted me sober and alert when you fucked me, as if you were ever going to fuck me. I went home that night and I…oh, never mind."

Jarrod "What did you do, Trish?" He knew what she did, because he went home and did the same thing. But he wanted, no, needed to hear 14

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her say it. His original plan had been to get her to admit her feelings, but they were doing so much more than that. They were clearing up the past to make room for the future.

"Oh, God, I went home and I got myself off to the thought of us finishing what we started, okay? Are you happy now?" she told him, sounding out of breath.

"Did you imagine it was me touching you? 'Cause I imagined your mouth on my cock as I got myself off that night." He was hard as a rock right now, and his erection was pushing against the zipper of his jeans, threatening to embarrass him if he didn't get a handle on things.

"Jar, we can't do this. I can't go down this road with you, because if I do, I won't be coming back."

That was all she needed to say, and with that, he made his move. "Then don't come back." He didn't give her a second to think about what they were doing. He crushed his lips onto hers, finally taking what he'd been dreaming of since that night five years ago.

He wasn't asking permission to kiss her; he took everything she had to give him and demanded more. She pushed him against the elevator wall and surprised him by straddling him. He took her face in his hands and kissed her with all the passion that had been building up. When she rocked her hips into his erection, he moaned her name as he took the kiss even deeper. He could smell her arousal in the air. When she bit his bottom lip, he groaned into her mouth and lost it. He took her ass in his hands and pressed her against his erection, giving her what she was silently begging him for. When she moaned against his lips, it told him all he needed to know. She needed this as much as he did.

With one swift move, he had Trish on her back and his body covering hers. He took his time kissing the hollow of her neck, and as he nibbled where her collarbone met her neck, she called out his name. Fuck, that was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard. He didn't care where they were, he needed her, and he needed to make her

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feel as desperate as he was. He unzipped her jeans and slipped his hand beneath the material to find her hot and wet.

"You're so wet," he whispered in her ear, and she moaned his name again. His name coming from her lips was something that would forever be engraved on his memory. She writhed beneath him, and he realized his little wildcat liked her dirty talk. Well, who was he to deny her what she wanted? He was a giver, after all. He teased her, stroked her, but never gave her what she really needed.

"Do you like it when I tease you like this?" he whispered against her ear before nipping her earlobe with his teeth. He slid a finger inside her just to make his point. "You're so fucking tight and wet. Do you like me finger fucking you?"

"Jarrod, please, I'm so close." It blew his mind how responsive she was to his touch. God, he knew she would be perfect, but he never imagined she would be this beautiful. She was everything he could ever want, and the way she demanded her pleasure turned him on more than she probably knew.

If she wanted it, she was going to have to ask for it. "Tell me what you need." He couldn't believe how good she felt. It took every ounce of self-control not to strip her naked and plunge into her.

"I need to come. Please, make me come," she begged him, her voice laced with desperation. As soon as the question left her lips, he added another finger and started moving them in and out of her.

When he rubbed her clit, she shuddered beneath him. She was so damn hot, and seeing her fly almost had him coming in his jeans.

Jarrod didn't stop moving his fingers. Pressing down on her clit, he sent her spiraling into an orgasm as she screamed his name.

"Fucking beautiful," he told her before kissing her like his life depended on it.

"Mr. Banks, Miss Monroe, we got the power back on, so we should have you out of there in no time." He knew the second he heard the voice on the speaker that the spell was broken. Her whole body tensed under him. He cursed the interruption. But now that 16

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he'd had a taste of her, there was no way he was letting her close herself up again.

"I guess playtime is over‌for now," he said as he stood. He helped her to her feet. As she zipped up her jeans, the elevator started moving again. He steadied her when she stumbled, but she quickly moved out of his hold and to the other side of the elevator.

They both stood there in silence, and when they reached the lobby, she looked at him. Her next words challenged him to make her see what they could have. "That should have never happened. It was a mistake."

Before he could respond to her, the doors opened, revealing all the guys, who were waiting for them. Jarrod grabbed her by the arm, spun her around, and leaned into her ear to whisper, "That was anything but a mistake." With that, she pulled away and walked right past the guys, who were all fussing about her, while Sam stayed behind studying him with a million questions in his eyes.

"What happened in there?" Sam asked with a smirk on his face.

"Us," and that was all he said before he walked straight to the hotel bar, needing to cool off before he had to be in close quarters with Patricia again. They weren't done, not by a long shot.

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Chapter Three

4 years ago – Jarrod "Come on, it

won't be that bad! It's just a few houses, and you know how little I know about electricity and plumbing…. Pretty please." He was such a sucker when it came to the woman in front of him; he couldn't tell her no. It didn't matter what she needed, he would always give it to her, and nothing could ever change that.

She had been dreaming and talking about buying her first house for months now, and today, she looked like a kid who had just received a smiley face in kindergarten.

He wanted to be the one responsible for that look every day, but he would settle for little moments like these— for now.

"You owe me for this, Trish. I'm not kidding. There are a million other things I could be doing right now on my only day off this month." Who was he kidding?

There was nowhere else he would rather be than right here with her.

When they pulled into the driveway of the lakeside country home, her eyes went wide and a smile spread 18

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across her face. "Now this is way more like it," he said, parking the car at the side of the house. After the disastrous visit at the last house, this was definitely more like her.

"Oh, my God, this house is beautiful." Before he knew it, his little firecracker was out of the car and running to the backyard. By the time he got there, she was sitting in the grass, staring at the lake. She looked so beautiful and peaceful; he knew this was the house she had been looking for.

Content, he sat down behind her. "This house is perfect," she told him as she leaned into his body, making him feel things he had no right feeling.

He refused to name the reasons he cared so much about doing this with her. "The house is perfect, Trish. Is this what you were looking for?" he asked while running his hands up and down her arms. If it was up to him, they would stay here, like this, forever.

Looking straight at the water, she said on a sigh, "Yes, it is." There was so much more to those words than having found the perfect house, but he knew better than to push her. He didn't want to ruin this moment by asking what he knew she wasn't ready to answer yet.

They toured the house, and he watched her expression brighten even more as she fell in love with the property.

It was even more perfect than she expected. The kitchen and dining room were all modern, but with a rustic feel, which suited her perfectly. There were two bathrooms, and three bedrooms, including a gorgeous master bedroom with a walk-in closet and a master bathroom attached, both of which made her sigh.

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As they made their way around the house, he loved how her face kept lighting up every time they went into a new room. When they entered one of the smaller bedrooms, he couldn't help but imagine living in this house with her and having their child in this room. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. He was in love with her. He had been attracted to her since the first night they'd met, but standing in this room, thinking about his future with her, he knew he fucking loved her.

She walked straight up to the real estate agent waiting for them and with a big smile on her face, stated "Amy, I need this house!"

"Well then, let's all sit down and we can make an offer. Will you be buying it by yourself, or will your husband be buying it with you?" They looked at each other and erupted in laughter.

After what seemed like an eternity of chuckling, Patricia looked at Amy and smiled. "We're not married‌. I mean, we're not a couple. We're just friends." He hated the sting of her words because to him, this was a lot more than friendship, but he knew she needed time, and he wasn't going anywhere.

"I am so sorry. I just thought, well, I mean, I assumed you two were a couple. The way you looked at each other and all‌. I am so sorry." The poor woman looked horrified as she spoke, which just made the whole situation funnier.

He smiled as Trish reached for the older woman's hand. "It's okay. You're not the first one to think so, and you won't be the last either," Jarrod told her.

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Present Day – Jarrod "Kinda early for whiskey." Sam sat down beside him at the bar and signaled the bartender to bring them another round. "Want to tell me what happened in there?" As much as he wanted to tell Sam, he was still trying to make sense of it himself.

"What happened in there is that woman is the most stubborn human being on the face of this fucking planet.

That's what happened in there. She acts like she doesn't fucking care or doesn't have feelings for me, but I know that's bullshit, Sam. Fuck, everyone knows it's bullshit.

And then I got a taste of something in that elevator I can't block out of my mind. She opened up to me in there. She also drives me fucking insane." Jarrod downed his whiskey in one gulp and tapped his glass, asking the bartender for a refill. He doubted enough fucking alcohol existed to numb his feelings, but he wasn't immune to trying.

He knew he was about to get one of Sam's famous life talks. "You know, about four years ago, after we celebrated the record deal, she came over to my house.

She was flushed and looked confused, but most of all, she was fucking angry. When I asked her what happened, she told me you two kissed after we all left and how you pushed her away. Man, she was so pissed at you for doing that, but you know what she was more ballistic about? That she let it happen because it opened a door to something she had been holding back for over a year. That girl has been in love with you since the first night she met you, and it scares the living shit out of her, 21

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Jar. You need to break through that fear. She has a lot of pressure on her back right now—from the label, from management, hell, even from us. Add her feelings for you to the equation, and you've got one hell of a confused woman, who's afraid of letting anyone down. If you love her as much as I think you do, you'll have to fight for her, man. We both know she's worth it." Sam got up and left him alone at the bar, leaving him more determined than ever to make her his.

The next morning, Jarrod woke up feeling like shit, and spending the day on a bus with Trish ignoring him the day before hadn't helped either. He forced himself out of bed and changed into workout clothes. The one thing that had always helped him focus while on the road was working out. There was something satisfying about pushing your body beyond its limits. When he walked into the hotel gym and he saw her on the treadmill, he was convinced she would tuck tail and run. But when she saw him, she smiled at him like nothing had ever happened, and just for that, he knew he would have to run a couple extra miles to get that look out of his system.

"You look like you've been at it for a while," he told her as he climbed onto the treadmill next to her. He always loved watching her exercise. There was something captivating about the way her body moved.

She had a woman's body with curves in all the right places, and he loved that they shared a passion for healthy living.

"I had some extra energy to work out before we hit the bus." Her answer shocked him. He grinned because it

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meant what happened in the elevator was affecting them both.

"I know the feeling," he said as he started running at a steady rhythm.

"What happened in the elevator can't happen again, Jarrod. I let myself go yesterday. I should have had more control. I work for you, and I just can't."

"You have all these excuses for why this shouldn't happen, but what about all the reasons why this was meant to happen? What do you do about those? Because I can't deny the way I feel when we're together, and if that makes me an asshole, I don't care. You can keep telling yourself this shouldn't happen, but we both know it needs to. I fucking care about you, Trish, and I know you feel the same about me. So when you're ready to admit it, I'll be here, but don't think, for one second, that I'm going to stop pushing for what we both want." He didn't give her a chance to say anything. Instead, he put his earbuds in and blasted the band's new album mix in his ears as he watched her walk away—again.

Patricia She had never been more thankful in her life to have five shows in a row. Staying busy was the only thing keeping her mind off what happened in the elevator and their run-in at the gym the following morning. Jarrod's words were on replay in her head, and the intensity on his face haunted her dreams. She couldn't get a break from the man. So far, she had managed to avoid being alone with him, but she knew it couldn't last forever. They shared a 23

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tour bus and were together more than any married couple.

She was aware that the guys had noticed the fact that she was avoiding him, but none of them asked about what had transpired in the elevator. As much as they shared every detail about their lives, she loved them for giving her the space she needed and not pushing the issue. Sam kept asking her if she was all right, and every time she told him she was fine, he gave her a look that said bullshit, but he didn't push the matter. She suspected Jarrod had told him what had taken place in the elevator, or at least part of it. She wanted to forget about how it felt to come undone under him, but she couldn't do it because no matter how many times she had fantasized about it, nothing had ever come close to reality.

After a long stretch of back-to-back shows, the guys had insisted that they all go out to dinner. She had tried to talk them into not making her go, but the one downside about working with friends was that they knew exactly when to call her out on her crap. She had been surprised when the guys had picked a really nice restaurant since they usually went for burger joints—not that she minded. She had gone shopping earlier in the day and found a gorgeous purple, one shoulder strap, lace dress that showed a lot of her back and ended just above her knees. She knew she shouldn't have bought it, but when she'd seen it, all she could think about was the look on Jarrod's face when he saw her in it. She treated herself to some time at the spa. After all, she deserved a little reward every now and then.

She was putting the final touches to her make-up when someone knocked on her door. She expected it to 24

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be Sam coming to tell her they were all ready to go, but when she opened the door, Jarrod was standing in front of her, wearing a black button-down shirt and dark jeans.

He looked like something out of a GQ magazine, sporting a five o'clock shadow. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him. He looked so good, she almost forgot she was trying to avoid being alone with him.

"Are you going to let me in or make me stand out here?" She hadn't realized she had been staring at him for longer than she should have. She actually considered making Jarrod stay outside while she finished getting ready. She didn't know if she could handle being in close quarters with him, not with what had happened in the elevator.

"Sorry, come in. I'm almost ready to go," she said, stepping out of the doorway to let him in, catching the smell of cologne as he brushed by her. Yeah, she definitely should have made him wait outside.

"Take your time. We're still waiting on Mike, anyway," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving her.

She opened one of the shopping bags and took out a black box containing silver earrings. "I swear that man takes longer to get ready than I do."

"Yeah, but he never looks as gorgeous as you do right now. That dress is something else." She felt her whole body blush as he complimented her. Damn, the man was good with words. It was great when he used it to write hit songs, but when he used it to charm her, it threw her off her axis.

"It's just a dress, Jarrod. It's nothing fancy," she told him in her best serious voice as she turned around to 25

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face him. She put her hand in her hair, pulling it up, and before she realized what she was doing, she asked for his opinion. "What do you think? Up or Down?"

"Up." She nodded as she clipped her hair in a simple updo. As she was distracted, he asked her the dreaded question. "So, are we going to talk about what happened, or are we going to keep avoiding each other and the subject all together?"

Patricia knew the moment would come when they'd have to talk about what happened, but she really didn't want to have the conversation tonight. His words at the hotel gym were still fresh in her mind. She didn't think she could handle much more at the moment. "There's nothing to talk about, Jarrod. Let's just forget it ever happened."

She was facing the mirror, putting the final touches on her lipstick, when she felt him walk toward her. She could see his face in the mirror, and the intensity in his eyes made her yearn for his touch.

"Only one problem with that plan, sweetheart, it did happen." The scent of his cologne filled her senses, almost making her knees buckle. God, she had it bad if smelling him got to her this much.

A knock on the door interrupted them and Jarrod threw his head back. "If it's Sam again, I will kill him."

When she opened the door, she wasn't surprised to find Sam standing there. He leaned into the door and saw Jarrod. "Good, you're both here, saves me a floor.

We're all ready to go, so if you two are done doing whatever dance you're doing with each other, can we please get going? Because Austin is about to eat the cocktail waitress for dinner, if we don't feed him first."

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When they arrived at the restaurant, she was surprised to find the guys had rented the whole restaurant. They weren't the type to go all out or to spend this much money on a night out. It was one of the things she loved most about them. Some bands rented pools in Vegas for a night, but her guys preferred to have barbeque and throw down some beers. It made her job as a publicist that much easier. So when she noticed the empty restaurant, she was confused. She turned to Austin and asked, "What's going on?"

"You'll see," was all he told her. She went through today's date in her brain, trying to see if she forgot a birthday or a special occasion. That was when it hit her, four years ago to the day, they had signed their record deal. She had been so caught up in her problems with Jarrod it had completely escaped her.

"You know you're like family, right?" Austin pulled her in for a hug and kissed the top of her hair.

Okay, now she was officially nervous about what they had planned. As they walked past the entrance, she took off her jacket and handed it to the concierge.

Walking into the dining room, she was shocked. The restaurant, which normally sat two hundred, could now only seat six at a round table with a piano in the corner, and all the guys' musical gear was set up. "Okay, someone needs to tell me what the hell is going on before I start freaking out."

They all laughed together. "I think you're already freaking out," she heard Mike say as they made their way to the table. Could they blame her?

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When everyone was settled, Sam stood up, and started talking. She knew she should have opted for waterproof mascara. "I would like to propose a toast to the most amazing publicist and best friend anyone could ever ask for. Today, four years ago, we signed our first record deal because of all of your hard work, and for that, we could never thank you enough. Over the last five years, you have become the sister I never had, and every day I am so proud to call you my friend because you make us all want to be better men. Thank you!"

When Sam finished his speech, tears had filled her eyes. "You're going to make me cry, Sam. I love you, you know that, but all of this was completely unnecessary." Before she could get her emotions under control, Austin stood up, smiling from ear to ear when her eyes widened in surprise, "Oh no, you're not all going to do this, are you?"

When none of them replied, she knew she was in for it. "Dammit, I should have worn waterproof mascara."

Austin lifted his champagne-filled glass. "I never thought a woman would be able to stand all five of us together in one room, so never in a million years did I expect some gorgeous little thing from North Carolina— sorry, Jar, it had to be said—to be able to withstand all of us on a bus 24/7. It has been pure joy to have you with us and for me to be able to look at your beautiful ass every day for the past five years. When we signed that record deal four years ago, you could have walked away, but you stayed and helped me scare hundreds of women away, so thank you!"

Leave it to Austin to make his speech about the number of crazy ladies she'd chased away over the years.

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The man drew more women than a man could ever dream of, but again, just like all of the other guys, he was never disrespectful and upfront about not giving them more than one night. "Count on me to check IDs and chase the crazies away for you!"

"I guess it's my turn now," she heard Tyler say. "You know I'm not good at this stuff, so I'll make it short. I don't know where we would be as a band if you hadn't walked into that bar five years ago. You are truly a gift to us. It doesn't matter if it's 1 p.m. or 2 a.m., you are always there when I need you. I never had that outside of these guys before, so thank you." She loved these guys more than life itself, but right then, she hated them for making her cry.

Mike handed her a tissue before he took his turn.

"Man, we made her cry." Everyone laughed, including her. "We had a rocky start, me and you. I didn't think a woman could do this job, or what we couldn't do, but you stuck to your guns and you proved me wrong. I was an ass back then and you stood toe-to-toe with me and put me back in my place. You, shorty, are one helluva woman."

Everyone went silent and all eyes at the table landed on Jarrod. She suddenly felt dizzy with anticipation.

"Everyone at this table knows that five years ago, when you walked into that bar, I had every intention of putting my famous southern charm to work; but looking back now, I'm sure glad I didn't because I have gotten to know the most incredible woman I have ever met. You are smart, beautiful, compassionate, driven, and you are always there for each of us. Every day, I discover something new about you—like how you don't like 29

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anchovies, you love reading Tolstoy, you twitch your nose when you're nervous, and you would fight for any of us until your last breath. You are my perfect fit."

No one said a word. It was so quiet you could hear the wind hit the outside window. When he told her he wasn't going to back off, he wasn't kidding. Damn, the man knew exactly what to say to make her heart break right open. She knew she had to break the silence and awkwardness before it got out of control. "You guys are the best. You might drive me crazy from time to time, but you are my family, and nothing is ever going to change that…. Now let's eat because I'm starving."

The food was beyond amazing, and she felt more relaxed than she had in a long time. They ate and talked about everything and anything from Austin's date the night before, to the new songs they were working on, which she got a glimpse of. She loved watching them play acoustic; there was something so intimate about hearing songs this raw, the way they were created. She felt Jarrod's eyes on her most of the night and caught some of the looks he and Sam exchanged. Patricia knew she wouldn't be able to avoid the conversation much longer, but tonight she didn't want to think about it.

As the waiters brought dessert—her favorite, chocolate cake—she got hit with the big question of the night from Mike. "So, since no one is asking you, I will break the ice…. Why did you say no to the job with Universal?" She shouldn't be surprised they knew about that, but this was another conversation she couldn't avoid, and apparently the guys didn't want to either.

She took a deep breath before explaining why she'd turned down a job offer most people would die for. "I 30

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didn't take the job because I don't want to be in an office, only hitting the road once in a while. That's not who I am."

She took another bite before she added, "Plus, you guys would be completely lost without me." With that, the tension melted and laughter erupted. Jarrod was staring at her with a look that told her he knew there was more to the story than she was letting on, and he wasn't going to drop it. The truth was she hadn't accepted the job because the passion she'd once had for her job wasn't quite there anymore. She was stuck in a rut, and taking a job in the same field wasn't going to solve that. Plus, the guys wouldn't be the only ones lost if she left.

The night went on; they drank some more, the band treated her to some new songs, and when the time came to go home, Jarrod pulled her aside. "Stay with me."

Patricia knew she shouldn't, that she should get in the cab with the guys, head back to her hotel room and sleep. But she wanted—no needed—to stay with him.

And without even looking at the other guys, she made her choice. "You guys go ahead. We'll catch you in the morning." And with that, they found themselves alone in the restaurant.

Jarrod Jarrod hadn't meant to put her on the spot, but he wasn't ready for this night to end. And, if he were honest with himself, he didn't want to let her go either. When he'd pulled her aside and asked her to stay, he hadn't expected her to say yes, but lately she was full of surprises. He 31

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had no idea what he wanted to do, but he honestly didn't care, as long as she was with him. Having her near him quieted the noise and chaos in his head. No matter where they were or what they were doing, she made him happy.

He would do anything just to spend time with her, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it.

"So what did you want to do with the rest of the night?" she asked while putting her jacket on.

As he was doing the same, he suggested, "The concierge at the hotel told me there was this really great outdoor café in the park a few blocks away. We could go check it out." As much as he wanted her to like the idea, they could be in a dive bar and it wouldn't matter to him because she would be there with him.

"That sounds great," she said, sounding happy as he held the door open for her.

They walked in silence for a few blocks, and while they were waiting to cross at a red light, he looked at her.

"You look beautiful tonight, by the way." A blush stole across her cheeks, and he found it so incredibly sexy.

He expected her to disregard his comment, or to say some silly thing, but what she said surprised him.

"Thank you. You look pretty handsome yourself."

Then she did the most unexpected thing—she took his hand in hers and linked her fingers with his. In that moment, he knew their relationship was changing. That little gesture told him her guard was down, and he loved how he could affect her that way.

They talked about the tour, how much they missed a home-cooked meal and their own beds, and to Jarrod, it was perfect. When they arrived at the outdoor café, he heard her gasp as she took in her surroundings, and with 32

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reason. The scenery was beautiful with a cafĂŠ in the middle of a garden, lit by some lanterns. It was almost as beautiful as she looked, but not quite. They waited in line, and when their turn came, the server recognized him instantly. He loved meeting his fans, but tonight he wished he was just a normal guy on a date. Regrettably, lack of privacy was part of the job.

"Shit, man, you're Jarrod Banks," the server said loud enough for the few people around to hear him, gathering a few camera flashes and gasps.

"Indeed I am," he told the kid, before looking at Trish with a smile. They were used to people recognizing them, but tonight, the only person he wanted to be around was the woman holding his hand and smiling at him like he was her whole world. He had waited so long for this, and he didn't want anything to ruin it.

"I am, like, your biggest fan," the teenager said, almost crawling out of his skin with excitement. This was why Jarrod loved what he did and the reason he didn't mind the cameras and the traveling. Knowing his music could touch someone's life was one of the best feelings ever. "Can I have your autograph?"

"Yeah, what's your name?" he asked the kid, as he took the napkin he was handed.

"Eric." He looked between Trish and Jarrod. "Are you his girlfriend?" Eric questioned her, smiling as Jarrod signed the napkin. He felt her tense up for a few seconds, and he couldn't wait to hear what she was going to say.

It took her a few seconds to reply, "I'm just a friend."

Her response shocked him. She didn't say she was his

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publicist; she said she was a friend. This was progress he could work with.

Jarrod gave Eric their order, and when he came back with their coffees, he looked at Jarrod and declared, "She's pretty," which made Jarrod laugh because pretty was an understatement to describe Trish.

He took the coffees from him and said, "Yes, yes she is."

They walked to an empty table, and he was fucking thrilled when she sat down beside him. He loved having her close to him. They stayed at the cafĂŠ for over an hour, talking about everything and anything. She was more comfortable with him, and he couldn't remember a time he'd spent with a woman that came close to what he was feeling tonight.

"I don't want to fight this anymore, Jar. I'm exhausted," she told him as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"We don't have to fight this, Trish. I don't care what anyone has to say about us. No one gets to tell me how to live my life‌apart from my mom." He laughed, and when he heard her giggle, he knew they would be okay.

It might be a long process to get her to where he was, but he never backed away from a challenge.

When it became too cold to stay outside, they headed back to the hotel. The need to feel her, to hold her, was overwhelming. He pulled her into his body, and as her head rested on his chest, she relaxed in his arms. In terms of best days of his life, this one ranked pretty high on the scale.

Patricia pulled away from him slightly, moved onto the tip of her toes, and pressed her lips to his. In that 34

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moment, he knew he was done for. Her kiss was gentle, unlike the other ones they'd shared. She let herself be vulnerable, and he did the same. She wasn't just kissing him, she was opening her soul to him, and he was taking everything she had to give. Her arms went around his neck as she pulled him closer, and he groaned into the kiss, desperate to feel more of her. She pulled away first.

Eyes locked, they stared at each other for a few seconds before he lowered his mouth to hers.

He didn't care that they were kissing in the middle of the street, or that anyone could see them and take a picture. As he took her mouth, all he fucking cared about was claiming her as his, and with every passing second, that was exactly what he did. When he pulled away, her lips were swollen from his kiss and her face was flushed.

He took her hand and neither of them said a word as they continued walking back to the hotel. They were greeted by a few fans who wanted autographs and photos.

It took him about half an hour to get through the crowd and make his way back to her. "You ready?" she asked him. He gave her a quick kiss, took her hand, and walked toward the elevator.

When they arrived on her floor, they headed silently to her room. Reaching her door, he leaned against the wall and waited for her to say something.

"What happens when this ends, Jarrod? What do we do after one of us ends up with a broken heart? We work together. It's not like we can escape each other after it all goes to hell."

Fear laced her words; hell, he was scared too. To ease her worries, he'd play by her rules, for now.

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"The only problem with that, sweetheart, is that you're afraid we'll end before we ever got started. But trust me when I say, you and me, we're never going to quit each other. We're already in it. I'm in so deep I feel like I'm drowning. So, when you realize you're right there with me, let me know." He kissed her forehead, and smiled when she shivered under his touch, before walking away from her. She might not be ready yet, but he wasn't going anywhere. He was ready to wait for as long as it took.

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