“But I’m not interested, Nikki.”

“Duh. I know that. That’s why it’s a ruse. I didn’t think you’d actually want to sleep with him. Or me.”

Nikki’s bottom lip jutted forward, and she gave Melanie her please forgive me, bestest best bestie look, her I can’t help but be impulsive look, followed by her you know you love me look. The bitch. She knew Melanie would forgive her because Melanie did love her and worried about her impulsiveness getting her into big trouble someday.

“I can’t believe you’d use me just to meet some rock star, Nikki. I’m not sure why I’m friends with you. All you do is cause me grief.”

“But I’m a good kisser, right?” Nikki winked at her and laughed. “I never realized what great tits you have, Mel.” Nikki lifted both perfectly manicured hands and made squeezing motions in front of Melanie’s boobs. “Can I suck on them?”

Melanie crossed her arms over her chest. Nikki was always making stupid remarks like that. Good thing Melanie didn’t take her seriously.

“Don’t be mad.” Nikki dropped her hands and released a heavy sigh. “I got us backstage didn’t I?”

“I didn’t even want to come backstage.”

“Sure you did. Let’s go find some alcohol. I’m going to need a little liquid courage to approach Shade.”

“Go by yourself. I’m going to go wait in the car.” Melanie turned to find the nearest exit.

“No, you’re not.” Nikki wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll just end up worried about me in here with a bunch of—what do you call them again?”

“Freakish assholes?”

Nikki laughed. “Among other things. Just do this one thing for me, Mel, and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

Melanie snorted. “Uh huh. Yeah. Sure.”

“I won’t.” Nikki hooked Melanie’s pinky finger with her own. “Pinky swear.”

Melanie released a frustrated sigh. “Where’s the booze?”

Gabe climbed out from behind his drum kit, both thighs weary with fatigue. He stretched his aching back, wincing as he twisted to one side. Thirty years young and he could safely say he was getting too old for this shit. Jack tossed him a hand towel, and Gabe wiped the sweat off his face.

“Great show, man,” Jack said. He took the towel and offered Gabe a handful of used drumsticks to throw into the audience.

“Thanks.”

Gabe joined his band mates at the front of the stage. He flung a dozen sticks into the crowd, took a bow to the screaming fans, and made a beeline for the dressing room. He needed a beer, a nap, and a shower, not necessarily in that order.

“Don’t forget we have an after-party tonight,” Owen said as he handed off his bass guitar to one roadie while another disconnected his wireless transmitter.

Gabe had forgotten about the after-party. That meant the first thing on his agenda had to be a shower. No one wanted to smell him after he’d been swimming in his own sweat for an hour. And maybe if a hot piece of ass caught his attention at the party, he’d add get laid to his list of priorities.

“See you there,” Gabe said and headed for the dressing room to shower.

The steamy water felt like heaven against his weary flesh. He considered blowing the party and just hanging out in the shower by himself for the entire night. His bunk on the tour bus sang a siren’s song to his exhausted body. Gabe was proud to be known as one of rock’s fastest drummers, but his signature aggressive style wore his ass out at every live performance. Still, he knew the guys would give him hell if he didn’t make an appearance at the party, so he’d show his face for five minutes, have a beer, and then catch that nap. Alone. He was much too exhausted to chase pussy tonight.

He found his bag among the pile of the band’s overnight luggage and tossed on a pair of well-worn jeans, a T-shirt, and his favorite boots. He didn’t bother spiking his still wet hair as he planned to go to bed soon, so he tugged on a baseball cap and headed to the conference room at the end of the hall. The room was packed wall-to-wall with guests.

Gabe headed for the bar. One beer. That was all he needed to unwind, and then he could disappear. He made a concerted effort to greet everyone who recognized him. Shake hands. Pause for a photo. Smile and bullshit. Sign an autograph. Laugh at a joke. Accept praise. Enjoy the excitement. Seek out the familiar faces of his band mates in a sea of strangers and exchange a nod of recognition. Finally, he reached the bar.

“Corona?” Jordan asked.

He knew damned well that’s what Gabe wanted. He’d been with the crew all summer.

“Yeah.”

Jordan disappeared beneath the bar and emerged with a bottle. He popped the cap and handed it to Gabe, who took a long swallow. It went down smooth. Good stuff.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his gaze on the sweet piece of ass beside him at the bar. Long, brown curls fell to the middle of her back, and her jeans clung to her curvy backside in a most distracting fashion. High-heeled sandals accentuated her long legs, which would look perfect wrapped around his hips. If the front of her looked half as spectacular as the back, he was definitely interested in hanging around a while longer. He wasn’t that exhausted.

Melanie took the glass of whiskey out of Nikki’s hand. “You’ve had enough.” Even though they’d arrived in Nikki’s car, Melanie realized she’d be the designated the driver tonight, so she’d stopped drinking after one apple martini. They had a three-hour drive just to get home. But while Melanie showed restraint, Nikki used the open bar to its full potential. She had yet to request one of everything, but each time Shade laughed or said something loud enough for her to hear, Nikki ordered another drink.

Nikki stole a glance over Melanie’s shoulder at her current obsession, who had yet to notice her. Probably because she was standing out of his line of sight. His inattention had Nikki reliving her college party days—get drunk, sleep with some jerk, wake up not knowing where she was, call Melanie to come get her, cry on Melanie’s shoulder, eat chocolate ice cream, rinse and repeat. Melanie had thought Nikki had finally outgrown the pattern. Apparently not.

Melanie’s patience was at its limit. Nikki had behaved like a lunatic to get backstage and now she was too chicken to even approach the guy. Maybe if Melanie introduced her to Shade before she was completely wasted, she wouldn’t start throwing herself at the nearest dick, which happened to be attached to the greasy bartender. Determined that her friend would set her sights on more attractive man-meat, Melanie took her by the arm. She knew Nikki would lament for the next thirty years about how she’d missed her chance if she didn’t at least talk to Shade.

“Wait, wait,” Nikki pleaded as Melanie dragged her away from the bar. “I need to check my make-up first.”

When Melanie stopped in front of the lead singer of Sole Regret, Nikki’s elbow began to tremble uncontrollably in her hand. Shade paused in midsentence, his handsome face turned in their direction, and then he took a nonchalant swig of his beer. Melanie watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. She couldn’t tell for sure if she had his full attention because he was still wearing sunglasses. Indoors. At night. He was taller than she’d imagined—over six feet—and built. Between all the booze and women, Melanie wondered how he found the time to work out. But he had to. Black leather pants clung to muscular thighs, and his white T-shirt strained to contain his well-defined chest as he moved his beer bottle away from his sensual mouth.

“Hi,” Melanie gushed before she lost her nerve. She now understood why Nikki had needed copious liquid courage. Intimidating? That was an understatement. “I’m Melanie and this is my best friend, Nikki.” Melanie tugged Nikki forward. Nikki tripped over her own feet, and Shade took her by one shoulder to steady her.