“I remember that show,” Logan said. “It rained buckets. Everyone was drenched and muddy. Max got shocked by his microphone.”

“He did?” the guy said, eyes wide. “I never knew that.”

“Yeah, just a little jolt,” Logan said, glancing at Max, who was too busy interacting with a female fan to know he was the topic of their conversation. “But the way he talks about it . . .”

“Dude!” the fan said to Logan, apparently just realizing who he was speaking to. “Duuuuuude! Will you sign my arm too? I’ll get all your names tattooed on there. It will be fucking awesome.”

He bellowed awesome like a demon-possessed death-metal singer. This guy was a riot. Toni simply had to interview him for the fan section of the book. She hoped he’d agree to answer a few questions.

Logan signed his name on the man’s forearm and then turned his attention to the giggling young woman holding a life-sized poster of him.

“Will you sign this for me?” Giggle. “I’m going to be at the concert tonight.” Giggle. “If you wanna hook up with me backstage, I’ll rock your world.” Giggle giggle.

Toni had no idea what Logan would have said if she hadn’t been standing right there, but she was relieved when he said, “There’s no after-party tonight, doll. We have to get on the road again as soon as the show ends.”

“What if I follow the bus to your next show? Will there be an after-party there?”

Logan scratched his head. “I think our next party is in Salt Lake.”

Giggle. “I’d follow you anywhere.”

Toni scowled. She wondered if she had any chance at keeping this man’s interest. Did she want to even try? He lifted his sexy eyes to meet her gaze and smiled suggestively. Her mismatched socks melted in her loafers. Oh yeah, she definitely wanted to try.

Through three hours of autographs and hugs, squeals and duuuudes, all the members of the band kept their cool and gave each fan a bit of personalized attention. When Butch announced it was time to go, there was a roar of outrage outside the store. People were still waiting, but the band had to get to the stadium to assist with sound check. Toni wondered how they had the energy for music with all this other stuff clogging up their schedules. Logan stretched his arms over his head, giving Toni a delicious view of his belly. She wondered if he’d like her to lick those abs of his.

Logan caught her drooling over his bare skin and offered her a little wink. Heat flooded her face, and she decided now was a good time to interview the record store employees. She needed to get her mind off Logan’s fascinating body and back on the job she was there to do.

All the store clerks raved about the band. The co-owner, who happened to be the owner’s wife, was particularly eager to share her enthusiasm.

“We usually only get unknown bands in here. Maybe twenty people show up to their signings—usually the band members’ moms and girlfriends. This is beyond awesome. I love how an act as huge as Exodus End is willing to take time for little record stores like us.”

“It’s because you have the best water,” Steve said, tilting his nearly empty glass in her direction in an informal toast. He downed the rest of his water in one gulp and then signed the bass drum skin that some wanna-be drummer had just slid onto the table in front of him.

“You, dude, are the god of drummers,” his fan proclaimed. “No one tears up a set of skins like Steve motherfucking Aimes.”

Interesting middle name. Toni wondered if the guys ever tired of fans calling them gods. If she had a dollar for every time she’d heard them called gods today, she could retire to the Caribbean and spend her days on the beach sipping mai tais.

“We really need to leave, guys,” Butch said, obsessively checking his watch now.

“Then we’re taking the long walk around the building,” Max said.

“Absolutely not!” Butch said.

Toni wasn’t sure what was meant by “the long walk,” but she followed the band as they stood, thanked the record store owners—smiling for pictures with them that were sure to grace the store’s walls in gilded frames before nightfall—and then headed out the front doors, where the waiting crowd was still milling.

“We have another engagement,” Max yelled over the screaming crowd. “We have to do the rest of this like sluts.”

Steve tilted his head, his brow crinkled. “Fast and easy?”

“Exactly.”

And thus began the assembly-line signing. The band started at one end of the crowd and signed anything shoved in their face—music scores, guitars, CDs, posters, boobs, T-shirts—if it had a surface, it got a signature. There wasn’t time for much personal interaction, but none of the band members seemed to mind all the touchy-feely going on. Toni would have taken a swim in a vat of hand sanitizer after being grabbed by that many strangers.

The band reached the end of the line, lifted hands of farewell to the enthusiastic crowd, and dove into the limo like a synchronized swim team. Toni scrambled in after them, followed by Butch. The rest of their security team got into a minivan and they all headed off to sound check.

When they arrived, crew members were putting the final touches on the stage assembly. So much was happening all at once that Toni didn’t know where to start with her data gathering, so she mostly gawked.

“Close your mouth or you’ll attract flies,” Steve said.

Her jaws snapped shut, and she shoved him.

“Where did Logan go?” Steve asked. “Didn’t get to see much of him yesterday. I have to tell him about the twins I meet at the bar Monday night.”

“Female twins?” She was teasing, but Steve scowled.

“Yes, female twins. I thought I made it clear that I’m one hundred percent heterosexual.”

“I didn’t mean to insinuate . . .” She cut off her apology and slapped him on the arm. “Don’t be so sensitive. I was just joking.”

“Oh.” His gorgeous face lit up with a smile. “Good one, Toni.” He returned her slap on the arm.

“What time do they start setting up the stage?” Toni asked. It was an amazing work of engineering. Assembling the hydraulics must take hours. Disassembling must take just as long. And then they had to load it, drive it to the next destination, and assemble it again. Toni suspected the road crew needed those days off even more than the band did.

“Hell if I care,” Steve said. “Why don’t you talk to Colby? She’s the head engineer.”

Toni’s eyes widened. “You have engineers?” She wondered just how many hands it took to put this tour together.

“I wouldn’t step onto that moving drum platform without them. So where’s Logan?”

“I don’t know. He said something about going to the dressing room.”

“Thanks.”

He turned to go, but Toni called after him. “When you find him, give him a kiss for me.”

Steve stopped in his tracks and turned to scowl at her. It must have occurred to him that she was teasing again as a grin soon replaced his frown. “With extra tongue,” he promised and strode toward the backstage area.

Toni went off in search of Colby the engineer. After asking around, she was directed under the partially assembled stage. She located the woman cussing up a storm under Logan’s platform.

“These things aren’t designed to carry that much extra weight.” Bang! Bang! Bang! A hammer ricocheted off a metal bar. “Next time one of them wants to bring a guest up on their goddamned platform, they’d better fucking ask me first.” Bang! Bang! Bang! Colby shifted the hammer to her other hand and wiped the first hand on her grease-smeared coveralls. “Fucking thing!” Bang!

Toni cringed, realizing she was the extra weight the engineer was cursing about. Toni started to back away. She probably shouldn’t bother the woman. Especially when she was busy repairing Logan’s hydraulic lift.

“Did you need something?” Colby asked, apparently catching Toni’s movement when she attempted to slink off.