Trey laughed and stood in the roiling water with his hands on both naked hips. Oh well. So he couldn’t f**k her. He could still hang out with her as a friend. He liked her already. She was interesting. Different. Hot as hell. A great kisser. Why would she kiss him like that if she had a boyfriend?
“Do you want a job?” she said into her phone. “They want me to hire a personal bodyguard. You’d have to come on tour with me.” She rolled her eyes. “No, that’s not why. Just think about it, okay? It pays a lot, benefits and everything, but I can’t talk right now. I’ve got a date in a hot tub with Trey Mills.”
Date?
Reagan disconnected the call. She kissed her contract and then headed back into the changing room.
Now where was she going? Trey shook his head and returned to his seat in the hot tub. Reagan came back a moment later in her hot pink panties and white tank top. Okay, that was totally unfair. He couldn’t be expected to think of her as a friend in that outfit. He couldn’t think at all when he noticed the twin bumps of her ni**les straining against her top.
“I didn’t wear a bra today so I’ll have to wear my shirt in the hot tub,” she said when she noticed him ogling her. “Maybe I should just go topless.”
He couldn’t find words. He was too busy trying to register hers. She stepped in the hot tub and the water concealed her shapely legs from view. Damn, he was hard as granite already. If she went topless…
“You’re right. I’m being silly,” she said. “It’s not like you’ve never seen a pair of tits before. Am I right? Mine aren’t even that great.”
Before he had the chance to confirm or deny her assumption, Reagan grabbed the hem of her shirt and peeled it off over her head. Her beautiful br**sts rose and fell as she removed the tank top and threw it on the side of the hot tub. A grunt of protest escaped Trey as she sank into the water and hid those small globes of flesh with their tempting pink tips from view. He rubbed his tongue against the ridge of his upper teeth to curtail the urge to flick it over her ni**les. Despite what she claimed, her br**sts were perfect and he very much wanted to show her just how great he thought they were. Reagan sat beside him, within arm’s reach, but not touching him. And while he figured he could probably pounce on her now and get down to business, something stopped him. He wanted to talk to her even more than he wanted to f**k her. Very bizarre. Mostly because he really, really wanted to f**k her.
“Dare said that Brian had a baby this morning,” she said.
“Yeah, I never thought Brian would ever be able to push it out through such a little hole. It was f**kin’ brutal.”
She laughed and splashed water at him. “You know what I mean. His wife had a baby. Boy or girl?”
Trey couldn’t help but smile. He kind of wanted to hold the little guy again already. “Boy.”
“Have you seen him?”
“Yeah, I was there when he was born.” He purposely left out the fainting part. “He looks like his father.”
“Niiiice,” she said.
Trey laughed. “Got a thing for Sinclair?”
“Oh my God, the man is delicious.”
Couldn’t argue with that. Trey happened to agree.
“When I said my band broke up over a kid, I didn’t mean that Sinners would break up.”
She touched his arm and that electric sensation he’d felt earlier snaked across his skin again.
“Brian won’t let us down,” Trey said. “Still, things are… changing.”
“Is that bad?”
“In some ways, yeah, but in others…” Trey sighed. “I guess things can’t stay the same forever.”
“Thank God,” she said. Her grayish-blue eyes turned skyward. “I thought I was going to be serving coffee for the rest of my life.”
“Is that what you do for a living?”
“Pssh, no. I’m the rhythm guitarist for f**king Exodus End. Don’t you know anything?”
She tilted her head at him and shook her head. She was so genuinely beautiful it took his breath away. He grinned. “Congratulations. How long have you been playing?”
“Three years.”
Trey almost swallowed his tongue. “You learned to play like that in three years?”
“I played cello before I picked up the guitar, but yeah.”
“What are you—some kind of prodigy?”
She shrugged. “I’ve won a contest or two.”
“Do you still play cello?”
“I played for my dad, not myself. He’s a music teacher. He started me on violin young, but as soon as I could hold a cello properly I switched.”
“Was he strict?”
She laughed. “Not exactly. I just liked to make him happy. There wasn’t much joy in his life after my mom divorced him. He still has all the programs, certificates, ribbons, and trophies from my competitions hanging all over his den. I need to call him and let him know I’m going on tour with Exodus End.” She laughed. “He’s so going to hate it.”
“I’d think it would make him proud.”
She talked out of the side of her mouth as if disclosing a great secret. “He despises rock ’n’ roll. It led to the great rebellion of my teen years and me moving out here to Los Angeles on my twenty-first birthday. Growing up, he wouldn’t let me listen to anything but classical music.”
“My mom was the same way but with folk music.” Trey attempted to suppress a shudder. He still had nightmares about being forced to play “Kumbaya” for all eternity in his personal hell.
“How long have you been playing?” she asked.
He was almost embarrassed to say. “Uh, fifteen years or so.” More like eighteen, but who was counting?
“I love your sound,” she said. “You complement Brian as if he was your soul mate.”
“And you play just like him.”
She blushed. Damn, he wanted to kiss her again. She was tough for a woman, yet there was something sweet about her. The combination stirred something within him. The fact that she played guitar like the man he’d loved for over a decade stirred him even more.
“Who’s Ethan?” he asked. If she said he was her boyfriend, Trey was going to break his own rule about interfering in other people’s relationships. He wanted this woman. His typical take-em-or-leave-em feelings for the opposite sex did not apply in this case.
“My best friend,” she said.