“Take Noah. Fashion plate likes shopping.”

“You’re the fashion plate, not Noah,” Molly pointed out. “Anyway, he’s keeping Fox distracted while I go shopping. And David,” she said, cutting off his next excuse, “is with Thea.” Her sister had flown in this morning and disappeared into David’s room; the two had gone through a tough time over the past week, needed alone time.

“What’s up with David and Thea?” Abe narrowed his eyes. “They sort out the BS over that ridiculous claim?”

“Come with me and maybe I’ll share what I know.”

He still looked surly as he hauled himself out of the armchair he’d been sprawled in. “Now I have to put on my disguise.”

Curious, Molly watched as the usually sleekly dressed male disappeared into his room and returned wearing an honest-to-God one-piece jumpsuit in black fleece with yellow smiley faces. He’d paired the monstrosity with sheepskin boots and donned a wig with knotted dreads that hung about his face. Each dread was capped off with a tiny pink barrette shaped like a butterfly.

Her jaw fell open. “No, seriously? You’re going to walk out on the street in that?”

“People run when they see me coming. It’s a repeller disguise.” Grinning, he slipped his hands into the pockets of the one-piece no one should’ve ever made for a grown man. “Where’s your disguise?”

“I don’t need one.” Thankfully, her elevator-photo notoriety had faded quickly, especially with the gossip sites and magazines focusing on the “secret” Carina-Fox relationship. Grr… “Ponytail, sunglasses, cap, and I’m set.”

 “Then I dare you to walk with me.” Abe crooked his arm.

“I’m no chicken.” Sliding her arm into his, she headed out into the noise and color and vibrancy that was Manhattan.

Abe was the band member she’d spent the least amount of time with, but he proved good company, even when a bus full of international tourists swarmed him for photos. Posing patiently, he told them he was a clown on his day off, his expression deadpan, while Molly attempted not to collapse in a fit of giggles. The photos she took were priceless.

 It was on the way back to the hotel that he said, “You trying to become my friend, Molly?” A laid-back comment with a steely undertone.

“Yes.” He was too smart for anything but honesty. “I know the band is tight, but you’re guys. You’d rather shoot yourselves in the family jewels than talk about feelings, and sometimes even big, tough guys have feelings.” As with her mother, Abe’s problems seemed to result from an attempt to drown emotional pain.

 “You got balls. No wonder Fox likes you.” Slinging an arm around her shoulders, he held her to his side. “I had a shrink at the rehab center. Didn’t talk to him. What makes you think I’ll talk to you?”

 “You don’t have to talk to me, Abe. I just wanted you to know I’m here if you ever decide to acknowledge that you do in fact experience these mysterious things called feelings.”

“You think that’ll stop me ending up in the hospital?”

“Only you can do that,” she said bluntly. “If you manage to mess up in spite of a rock-solid support network, then you’re a self-destructive idiot.”

“Don’t hold back now.” A hard-eyed comment as they snuck into the hotel through a back entrance.

“Lies don’t help anyone.”

He walked with her to the suite she shared with Fox. “I’ll try not to be an idiot,” he said at the door, no humor on his face. “Hey, Moll.”

She stopped with the door partly open. “Yes?”

“Why bother?”

“Because you’re my family now.” She’d lost one already, couldn’t bear to see this one fall apart too. Last time, she’d been young and scared and alone. This time, she was an adult who was learning her own strength—and she had Fox.

A month into the tour and three weeks after Abe’s binge, all the tension had dissipated and Molly felt at home with the entire group. The crew teased her good-naturedly now and then about being an “intern” but said they’d have her back anytime. She did still pitch in around her own work—which was gathering steam, word of her skills spreading through the recommendations of satisfied clients.

It felt as if all was right with her world as she and Fox walked to their suite after the Chicago concert. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the feel of thousands of people singing along to the music, the thundering power of it indescribable. No wonder Fox remained wired up afterward, sometimes for hours.

“I want you naked the instant after we walk through the door,” he said, his body heat kissing her skin. “On your hands and knees.”

Her face flushed. Sex was always hard and fast the first time when he got like this. Then he’d go slow, every ounce of that untamed energy focused only on her as they explored one another and their fantasies. There’d been scarves involved last time, and he was playfully threatening to buy fur-lined handcuffs. But he was generous with his own body, too, letting her kiss and caress and pet to her heart’s content—just not at the start. Wired as he was, he didn’t have the patience.

Smiling hello at the private security guard assigned to monitor this floor, the other members of the band in suites just down from theirs, Molly walked inside. Fox paused for a second to say something to the guard.

Her fingers were on the hooks of her pretty, fitted black jacket embellished with lace panels on either side when she froze, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. Having shut the door, Fox, his body primed as it pushed into her backside, went to reach for the button on the back of her skirt when he, too, went motionless.

“That’s not your perfume,” he said, pinpointing what had set her off.

It was too sweet for her, too opulent in its sensuality. “Maybe a housekeeper made a mistake?” The band had a standing order in all the hotels they used that no one was to enter their suites without a specific request.

“She’d have had to get past the guard.” Stepping in front of her, he headed to the bedroom. “Stay here.”

Molly followed at his heels, got a scowl, but he didn’t order her back. A second later, they were at the open bedroom door.

The girl inside couldn’t have been more than nineteen, every inch of her sleek and golden, her perky breasts tipped with pale pink nipples, the flesh between her thighs bare. Molly saw all that at a glance because the girl was reclining on the king-size bed on her elbows, her legs drawn up at the knees and thighs spread.

Black stilettos and a mane of glossy caramel-colored hair arranged artfully over one shoulder completed the look. “Hi,” she breathed, after dismissing Molly with a single, contemptuous glance. “I thought you might want some company.”

Jaw a vicious line, Fox’s hand fisted. Slipping past him before he could give free rein to his temper, Molly grabbed the scrap of sequined fabric that was apparently the groupie’s dress and threw it at her. “If you don’t want to be arrested and thrown in jail for the night, put that on and haul ass.” No way was she touching the G-string panties discarded on the carpet.

The girl pursed pouty lips painted a wet pink. “Fox wants me here, don’t you, honey?” Her eyes went to the zipper of his jeans.

Molly felt Fox snap. Striding across the room, he would’ve taken the girl’s arm and dragged her out if Molly hadn’t stepped in front of him. “She’s not worth the aggravation,” she whispered, one hand on his cheek to force him to meet her gaze. “Touch her and she’ll sue or sell her story to the tabloids.”

Fox’s eyes glittered but he didn’t push past her. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his phone and made a call, barking a single order. “In here now!”

The security guard entered the room less than three seconds later, his face going ashen at the sight of the intruder. “I threw you off the floor.”

The groupie, apparently understanding she truly was unwanted at long last, grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head. “A real man let me in.” Her eyes slanted to Fox again as she picked up her purse. “Anytime, Fox darling. Just call me.” She brazenly threw her panties and a scrap of paper holding a phone number on the bedside table.