Chapter Five

That may be a line, but she was willing to read it. Damn. The man was hotter than hell. Hotter than her first apartment when the A/C went out in August.

Part of her was still suspicious, cautious, wondering if it was all part of the standard seduction technique of Marco Lucky, the rock star. But she knew he wouldn’t need seduction techniques. He probably had women littering the hallways of his hotels and crowding backstage after every show. He didn’t have to work to get laid.

Besides, given her natural cynicism, she was pretty damn good at reading when someone was bullshitting her, and she’d looked into his eyes and had actually believed him when he’d said he hadn’t had sex in a year.

He’d sounded too clipped, too sexually frustrated, for it not to be true.

Whatever those personal reasons were, she found it incredibly flattering and reassuring that he hadn’t been with a revolving door of women recently.

She didn’t need to be special to him. Just not a nothing.

“Is this where I act coy?” she asked. “Where I giggle and pretend I don’t know what you mean?”

“Not unless you want to morph into another person entirely.”

That made her laugh. “Good call. Coy isn’t really my thing.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just enjoy the carriage ride. That’s the whole point.”

Holy crap, he was right. That was the whole point. Enjoy the ride.

How many times had she heard that and known what it meant, but had never truly been able to live the concept on a daily basis?

It seemed she could stand to learn a thing or two about letting go and being in the moment.

“What is your percentage of being right?” she asked. “Because this qualifies as one of those times.”

“I think I run about fifty-fifty.”

“What’s your biggest ‘So Wrong’ moment? Not regrets or anything like that. Just like wow, that was a miscalculation.”

“Dying my hair blond in high school. I looked like Eminem. Which is what I was going for.”

She laughed. “The funny thing is, that’s my biggest oh hell no moment too. I was trying to look like Christina Aguilera. My skin tone with blond hair? So bad. Just so, so bad.”

“I really can’t imagine you blond. Do you have a picture?”

“No, thank God. I was twelve. My mom was so mad at me.” Allison watched the buildings go by and marveled that New York looked different from this perspective. She thought she knew everything there was to know at this point after eight years of living there, but the speed of the carriage, the open air, gave it a more relaxed feel than she had been expecting. “This is pretty cool, I have to say. It’s less stressful than riding in a taxi.”

“That’s not setting the bar very high.”

“True. I’m an extreme personality, though. I either set the bar ridiculously high or way too low.”

“Are you talking dating or life in general?”

“Dating, what’s that? I haven’t had a date in a million years.”

Marco scoffed. “Oh, come on. You’re gorgeous and funny. I bet you guys lined up outside your door.”

“It’s a short hallway.”

He laughed. “No, seriously.”

“Dating always feels like a job, because everyone does it online. A year ago, I went out on, like, ten first dates and they were all a bust. I don’t have two hours to waste talking to strangers on Tinder.”

“Well, I’m glad you have two hours to waste talking to me.” He tilted her chin up. “I’m enjoying your company.”

Allison felt her breath catch. It should have felt strange, his thumb still on her skin, the move an odd mix of caring and domination. But she liked it. She felt her walls shifting. Not crumbling exactly, but definitely leaning.

Something about the motion of the carriage, the fresh air, and his dark eyes had her mesmerized.

“I’m enjoying your company too.”

She parted her lips, invited the kiss she knew he wanted to give.

Marco’s hand slid across her chin, and around to the nape of her neck.

She’d been shivering from the cold, but when he covered her mouth with his, all she felt was heat. They kissed slowly, languidly, each press exploratory, getting to know each other. It was a kiss with no destination, just a meandering journey that demanded she slow down and enjoy yourself. Which she did. He tasted delicious, masculine, if that were even

possible. He smelled like fresh air and leather, and she touched his cheek, liking the roughness of his beard stubble. They kissed on and on, desire blooming between her thighs, her nipples tightening. She felt breathless from arousal, yet not impatient. There was something absolutely sexy about knowing this was all they were going to do right now. It was not only heightened anticipation, but incredibly intimate.

She hadn’t kissed like that since high school. But even that had been different, because then it had involved pawing each other and the excited fear of not knowing what was next, what that completion felt like. She knew now what could come next, but knowing they didn’t have to rush to get there felt oddly freeing.

When his tongue swept in between her lips, she gave a soft moan, eyes closed. It was a hell of a head rush, the air around her, the carriage plodding along, Marco taking her mouth. She broke away after a few minutes, needing to breathe. She stared at him, feeling the moisture on her lips, but not bothering to wipe it away. “There is nothing wasteful about that,” she said.

The corner of his mouth turned up in pure male satisfaction. It was so damn sexy she almost wished they were en route to his place to finish what they’d started. Almost. But not quite. She found herself wanting to know where this could go. Not into a relationship. But she definitely could see drawing out the foreplay. She did enjoy his company. Something about that fact seemed so par for the course with her. She couldn’t find a single guy in New York that she could actually see herself hanging out with, except for the utterly unattainable rockstar who was leaving town sooner rather than later.

“Not at all.” He glanced over and saw they were pulling back up to where they started. “I think the ride is over. Where to now, boss?”

That was a question she didn’t have an answer to, so she went with the simplest equation. Him, her, and coffee on a couch. “I’m freezing. I’d love some coffee.”

“We can do that. Do you have a favorite place?”

“Yes.” She eyed him, wondering what his reaction would be. “It’s called my apartment.”

She didn’t want to go to his place. She would feel acutely aware of who and what he was if she did, and while she was now rich too, she didn’t want to see the reality of his success and fame. It would make her feel too much

like a groupie. Besides, she felt more in control of the situation on her own turf. Granted, she had limited furniture at the moment, but she did have a couch and a coffeemaker.

“I’ve never heard of that place,” he said. “But as long as what they’re serving is hot and wet, I’m in.”

Then he winked.

Allison forgot everything she’d thought in the last ten minutes. Why wait when she could have him now?

“Don’t worry, I won’t monopolize your whole night,” he added. “Just the good parts. I have to be in the studio at eight in the morning.”

“I sincerely hope you’ll monopolize all my good parts.” She gave him a long look. “Oops, did I just say that out loud?”

Marco shook his head and gave her a smirk. “You know full well you did and that it was intentional. I’ll see what I can do about your good parts.”

There wasn’t much more a girl could ask for. It seemed that after eight years of sluggish karma, she was on fire. They said good things came in threes. She hoped her final one would be in the form of an orgasm.

Marco had expected Allison’s apartment to be stylish and chock-full of personality, like she was. Instead she led him into a mostly empty living room, several pairs of shoes kicked aside by the door. It was small, but that was to be expected for a building like that in the Village. “Are you moving out? Moving in? Redecorating?” She didn’t even have a couch, just a very large chair that might qualify as a chaise, except it was overstuffed. He wasn’t sure what that made it. Other than useless. Too big for one person, too small for two.

“Well. This is a two-bedroom, and once my roommates moved out I couldn’t afford it by myself.”

She went and flicked on the kitchen light so the gloom was cut through a little more, though even with the kitchen and the lamp by the front door on, it wasn’t exactly bright. Ambient, maybe. Impractical for anything other than watching TV and getting it on.

“They also owned most of the furniture, which, I confess, surprised me.

It certainly seems like I’ve spent a lot of money other the years, but other than shoes and handbags, I’m not sure I can prove where it’s gone.” She opened a cupboard in the kitchenette, pulled out a canister, and twisted the lid. “So I couldn’t find an apartment by myself in Manhattan in my budget,

so the plan was to very, very temporarily move in with my best friend Jamie and her boyfriend, Jonathon, who you both met tonight.”

The redhead and her boyfriend who looked like he couldn’t wait to get her naked. “Sure, they seem nice.”

“Very nice to let me live with them, even if Jonathon has an amazing apartment in Tribeca. But his grandfather lives with them. And his foster kid. So it’s basically like reaching hippie commune proportions, but I didn’t really have much choice. Then I was going to have to move to Jersey City.

It’s the only way I could afford a place on my own.”

“Until winning the lottery.” He moved into the doorway of the kitchen.

“Until winning the lottery.” She smiled over her shoulder, stuffing a filter into her coffeemaker and measuring out coffee. “Do you take cream and sugar?”

How did she manage to make that so sexy? He knew exactly how she did it. She wasn’t trying to make it sexy. She wasn’t hitting him over the head with her sexuality, licking her lips and plumping her cleavage and bending over in front of him and generally making it known that she could be his if he just crooked his finger. It was refreshing that while Allison clearly felt the same chemistry he did, she wasn’t interested or willing to throw herself at him. He came up behind her.

“Just cream, thank you.”

She shifted out of the way before he could rest his hands on her waist.

Efficiently, she filled the pot with water, poured, replaced the carafe, and turned it on. Then she turned to smile at him.

“You look very beautiful, Lady Luck,” he murmured, desperate to get his hands on her.

But all of a sudden she jumped. Her eyes opened in alarm. He turned, thinking she saw a spider behind him. But she was suddenly running past him, knocking her shoulder into his. “What’s wrong?” he asked, bewildered.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she wailed, grabbing her purse off the side table where the lamp was resting. She tore it open and started sorting through it, giving items the same grab-and-toss treatment she had on the carriage ride.

“My winning lottery ticket was in my purse! Please, baby Jesus in the cradle, please, please, please tell me I didn’t lose it when I pulled all that shit out.”

Holy fuck. He went over to her and started scanning the discarded items. “Are you sure you had it with it? Is it tucked into your wallet?” That seemed like it would be the smartest place for it.

“No. I had it in the slot for my cell phone. I was keeping it safe. Which makes me a fucking idiot.” She fell to the floor, dumping her purse upside down, clearly impatient. “I hate myself.”

Marco wasn’t sure what to do other than squat down beside her and start sorting everything she discarded, in case she was missing it from sheer panic. He felt horrible. And worried. She clearly needed the money. She’d sent that video quitting to her boss. She’d spent at least a few hundred dollars that day, maybe even a few thousand. She had no apartment probably after the first of the month, in a mere twelve days. He felt horribly guilty, too. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you about the video. This is my fault.”

She scoffed. “Of course it’s not your fault. I’m the moron who is carrying around loose in my purse a piece of paper worth millions. That is not exactly bright. But I wanted it with me. It made me feel safer until I could get to the lottery commission tomorrow.”

She was frantically tossing receipts to the side. When she came up empty, she went back into the bag, digging and feeling around. She turned it inside out. Nothing else came out. Marco went through everything too, but he didn’t see it either.

Allison fell back onto her ass. Her face had gone completely pale. “Oh my God. I quit my job. I charged, like, three grand in purchases today.” She stared at him in shock. “I quit my job.”

A little afraid she was going to faint, Marco reached over and squeezed her hand. “Are you sure you brought it with you?”

She nodded. She started tugging at the collar of her sweater. “Shit, I’m hot. I feel like I’m going to puke.”

“Please don’t. It’s okay,” he said, brushing her hair back off her forehead. “Look at me.”

Her pupils were dilated and she really did look like she was about to go under. Her breathing was shallow. Her head lolled back.

“Allison,” he said sharply. “Look at me. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Even if you lost the ticket, that makes today like yesterday was before you won.”

A little burble of laughter spilled out from between her lips. “Yeah, but then I had a job and I hadn’t racked up a massive credit card bill.”

“Return whatever you can. The rest I’ll pay for, since this was partly my fault.”

That seemed to snap her out of her hysteria. “What? No. You don’t have to do that.” She shook her head. “I went digging for my phone. I dumped a bunch of papers in your lap. You didn’t make me do any of that. It’s just a horrible fuck-up, that’s all. That’s all I ever am. A horrible fuck-up.”

That annoyed him. “So you’re just going to figure that karma has shit on you yet again and give up? Maybe this is your opportunity to find a better job, one you don’t hate. Maybe living with Jamie is the perfect time to be jobless. She’s not going to care if you need to skip first month’s rent. But before we get into any of that, let’s go to the lottery commission tomorrow and see if anything can be done.” Maybe there was somehow proof of her purchase. Hell, it was worth a shot. A long shot, granted, but you never knew.

A tear slid down her cheek and she took several deep breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m so pathetic. I know it. I don’t want to be a loser, Marco.

Seriously, I don’t. But it scares me how bad at life I am.” She shifted away from him and hugged her knees to her chest, not even noticing or caring that he could see straight up her skirt.

He had no idea what to say. He didn’t think she was bad at life. That he’d witnessed firsthand. Like his mother, for example. He thought she just didn’t have a focus, and that had given her a serious crisis of confidence. So he sat down on the floor beside her, legs up, arms on his knees. He nudged her with his shoulder. “You’re not bad at life, honestly. Nothing you have told me about yourself points to total disaster. You know how I really got my fake last name?”

She sniffled, her voice small. “No.”

“Of course you don’t. No one does.”

Allison gave a short laugh.

That made him smile, even though his throat felt tight. He couldn’t believe he was going to admit this to her, but he opened his mouth and out it came.

“I had my mother’s boyfriend hold a gun to my head when he thought I stole his heroin. He pulled the trigger and I thought that was it. The end of my very short life. But the gun jammed. And he said, ‘You’re a lucky kid,

Marco de Luca. Fucking Marco de Lucky, that’s what they should call you.’

And I was lucky that I didn’t die.” He didn’t talk about that day. Not ever.

But it seemed important to share that with Allison. “But I was also a survivor, and I vowed from that day on that I be lucky by choice, not accident. And I have been.”

He had. As he sat next to Allison in the gloomy half-empty apartment, he realized he’d lost sight of that in the years when he’d been boozing and fucking a different woman every night. That wasn’t what it was about. It never had been. And after Austin, he’d realized it was time to quit drinking and screwing around, but it had taken him until right now to realize what he needed to do. That he needed to get back to him. Marco de Luca.

Allison turned and stared at him, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

“Thanks, Marco. I appreciate you sharing that. I’m sorry that you had something like that happen to you. That sounds terrifying.”

“It was. Not gonna lie. It’s all just life, though, Allison. You can either let life run you or you can run your life. I’m no expert on getting your shit together, because I’ve made more mistakes than I care to count, but I do know an opportunity when I see one.”

“Yeah. That money was never mine, was it? I didn’t earn it. I didn’t actually deserve it.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have done the right things with it, you know that? I wouldn’t have been a good money manager.”

“You don’t know that.” He wanted to shake her every time she dismissed her abilities and downplayed who she was. Who had put that recording in her head that she was just a snarky princess and nothing more?

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is the real opportunity to change my life. But I’m scared and my debt feels crushing.”

“I believe in you.”

She looked over at him from under damp eyelashes, her liner smudged.

Her nose was red. “Why? Why would you believe in me?”

“How could I not believe in the girl who always speaks the truth?”

“Thanks,” she murmured. “I appreciate it. Do you think I can get a job telling the truth?”

“I think that’s called a fashion critic.” He hesitated, because he was pretty sure she wouldn’t want his help. But he could introduce her to people. He held the thought for the moment. Maybe in a few days when she wasn’t so raw.

Allison leaned her head on his shoulder. “Yeah? I’d be good at that. I was born for that job. But at the very least, maybe I should aim a little higher. I have enough retail experience to apply for an assistant manager position somewhere.”

“Good call.” Though he didn’t see her loving that either. Some people were worker bees and some people were not. His assistant, Sharon, she was a worker bee. She loved schedules and organizing his life, and she was awesome at it. She wasn’t about ideas, she was about implementation. It was about understanding your personality, and Allison was no worker bee.

He could tell that just from the few hours they’d spent together. “But that’s tomorrow. Tonight, you don’t need to worry about any of that. Let me get you your coffee.” Not that he wanted to stand up. He was feeling needed, and he liked that. He didn’t feel that very often.

“So much for my celebration.” She sniffled, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she was drying her eyes on the sleeve of his jacket.

“How about we celebrate you getting a new job?”

“If you’re trying to be a motivational speaker, you suck at it. You’re awesome to listen to me whine, and I appreciate that you’re trying to bolster me and help, but let’s just call it a suckfest for right now. Because it is. I’ll pull myself up by my metaphorical bootstraps tomorrow, but right now I just want some whisky in my coffee and I want to cuddle with the Michael Kors handbag I just bought before I return it tomorrow.”

That made him laugh. “And here I was hoping you’d want to cuddle with me. Where’s the whisky?” He hauled himself to his feet. She was remarkably calm for someone who had just discovered they’d lost a few million bucks. Most people he knew would be trashing their apartment and swearing up a blue streak.

“Above the fridge. It’s like my grandma hooch stash. I’ve had the same bottle for about six years.”

Marco found it. He got down mugs and poured coffee, leaving room in his for cream and room in hers for whisky. He gave her a healthy shot, but not too much. The champagne had to be out of her system by now, but he didn’t want to be responsible for her waking up hung over tomorrow on top of everything else. He added his cream from the sparse fridge and then carried them into the living room. Eyeing the seating situation, he decided to do a little rearranging. After handing Allison her drink, he set his down on the floor next to her, then carried her end table over next to the oversized

chair. He had to unplug the lamp to do that, plunging the room into greater gloom, but whatever. He was tired of sitting on the floor. He wanted to kiss Allison, and he didn’t want to throw his back out doing it.

“Come here,” he told her. “Let’s sit in this insanely big chair you have.”

“I bought it online. I didn’t read the dimensions. I was twenty-three, that’s my only excuse.” But she did stand up and bring both their mugs over. She took a sip of hers and set it down on the table. “You kind of just have to dive into this chair.”

“Like this?” Marco kicked his shoes off first, then jumped, doing a spiral so he flopped on his ass in the chair. He crossed his feet and put his hands behind his head.

She laughed. “Exactly. But if I do that, I’m going to end up breaking your nose or something. So scoot over and I’ll delicately and attractively crawl in beside you.”

Allison did more than that. After removing her boots, she crawled up onto the chair on all fours, pulling her hair out of her ponytail as she did.

His thoughts immediately shifted from comforting her to making her come.

Holy hell, she was sexy when she moved like that.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?”

She slipped in beside him, turning in a way that put her ass perilously close to his face. He couldn’t resist it. He put his hand on her tight backside and slid over that delicious curve.

“Hey, that’s a party violation. And you’re weird if you think a woman who has been crying looks hot.”

“You weren’t exactly crying. You teared up. There’s a difference. Also, if you stick your ass in my face it’s going to get touched. End of story. It’s presenting.”

She gave a choked laugh and settled in beside him. “Give me my drink, freak.”

“Sure thing.” He handed it to her. “Then give me a kiss. I’m not here for the free coffee, you know.”

That made her laugh. “I have no idea why you’re here exactly. I’m sure there are better ways you could be spending your night. But since you are here, I have to say that I like it. You’re pretty easy to be around for such a hotshot.”

“Gee, thanks. Don’t swell my head.”

“Not yet anyway.” She winked.

She was good at that. Surprising him with sexual innuendo and making him instantly hard and ready to rock ’n roll. He took a sip of his own coffee so he wouldn’t say something so crass she’d kick him out of her apartment.

But when he set it back down, he pulled her onto his lap. She was sprawled across him, and he loved the feel of her long legs and lean body snuggled up against him.

“This isn’t comfortable,” she said. Because she was Allison.

“Be quiet,” he told her. He tangled his hand into her hair. He enjoyed seeing it down, loose.

Her eyes slipped closed. “That feels so good.”

He brushed his lips over her ear. “You feel good.”

She shifted so her legs were on either side of his. Marco almost groaned when he felt the press of her inner thighs against his cock. He was fully erect, and he knew he wasn’t going to get any satisfaction, but he was willing to torture himself. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

Instead he kissed Allison, using his free hand to grip her waist, and hold her close against him.

“Mmm,” she said. “You taste like coffee.”

She tasted like whisky. It made him want a drink. So instead he just gripped her head harder, and feasted on her mouth, taking her over and over again with hard, driving kisses that had them both breathing hard and mussing the hell out of each other’s hair. Allison ground her hips against his and he swallowed hard, pulling back. He needed a second. But that was all she gave him. She gripped his hair, bent over, and bit his bottom lip. That gave him a serious kick of lust. Holy hell, she was hot. Marco yanked the front of her sweater down and sucked the swell of her breast rising from her bra.

“I could kiss you for hours,” he murmured.

“Yes, please.” Allison’s head fell back.

He could see goosebumps rising on her skin, and it gave him a very base masculine satisfaction. She was genuinely aroused and he had done that.

Him. The real Marco. His phone buzzed again in his pocket. He pulled it out and powered it off, annoyed that it kept giving him notifications. He saw it was his manager texting him, but he didn’t bother to read them. He didn’t want to be babysat tonight. He wanted to fall off the grid, right here in Allison’s dim and under-decorated apartment, where real people lived.

“Don’t you need to answer that?” she asked, before sinking her teeth lightly into his earlobe. The girl liked to bite, and he wasn’t about to object.

It might mean he could bite her back.

“Fuck him,” he said, pushing her back so he could access her breasts again. He peeled her bra down so he could see her nipples. They were tight, a dusky raspberry color. Her breasts were small, high, appropriate for her frame. He could fit one entirely in his mouth, and he salivated at the thought. But then he decided to tease them both and cover them back up.

Allison gave a sound of protest. But he smirked and reached over for his coffee and took a sip. “Want your coffee?”

She fell off him to the side. “Sure. But I may regret this tomorrow.”

“The whisky or me?”

“Both.” It was too dark with the lamp off to really see her expression, but she was eyeing him.

“Regret nothing that hurts no one.” He kissed her softly. “Now maybe I should go and let you sleep.”

“You’re leaving? That’s it?”

He could hear the implication in her voice. She hadn’t expected him to walk after just making out. “One base at a time, remember?”

“I didn’t enjoy tenth grade. I don’t think I’m going to enjoy this either.”

Marco grinned to himself. He hauled himself out of the chair and bent over, putting his hands on either side of her. He kissed her slowly, languidly, invading her with his tongue. “Be patient. It will be worth the wait.”

“You’d better not be blowing smoke up my ass. If something is going up my ass, it better be more exciting than vapors. That’s all I’m saying.”

That made him laugh out loud. “You’re a piece of work.” He reached out and gave her a quick kiss. “Dinner tomorrow?”

“As long as you’re buying.”

“I can do that. I’ll text you.”

“Goodnight.” She stood up after he straightened up and away from the chair. “I had fun tonight, before the whole lost ticket thing, so thanks. I mean, it’s not every day you win the lottery then lose it again, and you made it decidedly less heinous.”

“You’re welcome. Would you rather win a night with a rock star or win the lottery?” he asked, mimicking what her friend had asked her earlier.

She bit her lip. “Sorry, kid, I’m still going lottery. But you’re a close second.”

“Thanks.” He wouldn’t have expected her to say anything else. It was an Allison answer, and if he were in her shoes, it was the choice he’d make as well.

But he found himself hoping that one day she’d change her answer.

It was a crazy thought, but it was in his head before he could stop it.

At the door, he cupped her cheek. “Goodnight.”

With the hallway light, he could clearly see the puzzled expression on her face. She didn’t know what to make of him. Hell, he didn’t either.

“Night.”

The door closed, and he waited for the click of her lock. Then he turned and powered his phone back on to check his messages. He paused only two feet from her door as he listened to his manager’s angry and panicked voicemail, followed by two texts. “Shit.”

His drummer had been arrested. They were canceling the morning recording session and were flying back to California. Rubbing his forehead, he took the stairs. Nothing was ever easy when you were dealing with both crazy talent and addictions. It seemed Robert had gotten busted for DUI.

For about the ninth time. But he couldn’t judge. He’d been there himself, and those guys had stood behind him. This just wasn’t exactly in his plans.

His manager wanted to find a temporary replacement to lay down some tracks back in LA then come back to New York the following week. But Marco didn’t want to leave New York at all. He raised his hand for a taxi when he got to the street. Inside the cab he texted Allison.

I have to go to LA tomorrow. Want to come with me for a few days?

It was an impulsive request. She’d think he was insane.

How could I do that?

Private plane. My house. Think of it as a vacation before the big job hunt. Two days.

He looked out the window, back at her building. He felt drawn to her, and he didn’t just mean sexually. He didn’t want a few days to go by, then when he got back to New York, she blew him off. And he didn’t believe in good luck, like he’d told her. He made his own luck.

Umm. Okay?

That made him feel immensely satisfied.

Pack a bikini.

Marco sat back and made some phone calls.

The night had turned out better than expected, and tomorrow promised to be even better.

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