She pictured a doting wife and three kids waiting for him in Austin. “Are you hiding something from me?”
He peeled his gaze off the photo of tiramisu and grinned at her. “Yeah.” He snorted. “My apartment.”
“What's wrong with it?”
He shrugged. “Nothing, as far as I’m concerned, but it's decorated with paintings of naked chicks.”
She laughed. “I do know what the female form looks like. I happen to have one myself.”
With a devious glint in his eyes, he gave her a twice-over. “I noticed.”
As an expert at reading people who tried to hide things from her, she couldn’t overlook his hesitation in answering her questions. “Is that really the reason? You don’t have to make stuff up.”
He reached for his beverage and slurped soda from his near-empty glass, his attention focused down his straw. Still not looking at her, he said, “That's really the reason.”
“You could take the pictures down if they embarrass you.”
“They don't embarrass me. I was more worried about you.”
He worried about her? She reminded herself not to analyze his every word, looking for indications that he cared.
“It took me years to accumulate them,” he said.
“You accumulate p**n ?”
His eyebrows drew together, and he shook his head. “It's not p**n ; it's art.”
She figured his definition of art and hers were as different as bunnies were from tiger sharks.
“I promise I won't be embarrassed,” she said. “I'd like to see where you live.”
He trained his gaze on her at last. “Do you have plans to go paparazzi on me?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Why would you think that?” Oh God, she must be coming across as some desperate stalker chick.
“I don't tell people where I live because I like privacy when I'm not on tour. I need to unwind from the insanity of this business. Plus, time alone reminds me that I'm actually a no-good loser whose only redeeming quality is an ability to make sound come out of six steel strings.”
“You're an amazing talent, but there’s more to you than music,” she said, reaching for his hand and squeezing. “And you are not a loser. But you are good. You have a good heart, Adam.”
He chuckled. “Do you actually believe that?”
“I do. I’ve seen it.”
He held her gaze long enough that his attention triggered her heart rate to accelerate. Oh God, his eyes. She wanted to stare into them for eons.
“Are you trying to turn my head, Madison Fairbanks?”
“Only if it's working.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “It's working. You always know exactly what to say.”
So how did she say what was really on her mind? She stared at him, collecting her courage.
“Are you finished eating?” he asked.
She looked down at her nearly full plate and then at the still occupied restroom. Go away, people.
“Is it time to go?” Madison dug her cellphone out of her purse and checked the time. “It's not six yet.” She glanced up at him and found him staring at her with hungry eyes. “I thought your sound check was at six thirty.”
“I don't think I'm going to make it on time.”
“AAC is only a few minutes from here,” she said, pointing in the general direction of the arena. “I'll drive you; I know the best routes to avoid traffic.”
“That's not why I'm going to be late.”
His expression was entirely blank. Unreadable. In their early counseling sessions, he’d always looked out at the world from behind that wall, but why now?
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Just one thing that I can think of.”
His hands slid to her wrists, his thumbs resting against her pulse points. Her body knew his touch and how well it pleased her. Just that small contact had her nerve endings thrumming with excitement and her muscles melting in surrender.
“What?” she asked.
“You're still in your dress.”
She stifled a loud bark of laughter. Mostly. “Well, the damned bathroom’s been occupied all night, and I'm not going to remedy that situation here at the table.”
“That's why we're going to be late.” He lifted a hand to a passing waiter. “Check, please.”
Chapter Five
The band had rented a limo to take them to and from the hotel, but as Adam planned to hog it all to himself, the guys would have to find a different way to the venue.
“Are you sure it’s okay to leave my car here?” Madison asked as they waited for the black stretch limousine to pull to a halt in front of the restaurant.
“If they tow it, I'll pay the impound fees.”
“I could just follow the limo to the arena and—”
He silenced her with a kiss. When he drew away, she stared up at him with that trusting, sultry expression that made his heart pound and his c**k pitch a tent. “It will be fine, Madi,” he whispered.
She glanced at her dusty, pale blue sedan one last time and then climbed into the backseat of the limo. Adam slipped the driver a few hundred dollars. “Drive around for a while.”
The driver nodded as if he didn't know why Adam wanted to spend alone-time with the beautiful woman waiting in the back of the limo. “Yes, sir. What time would you like to arrive at the arena?”
Adam estimated how tardy he’d have to be to cause a blood vessel to pop in Shade’s head. Probably fifteen minutes. “A little before seven.”
“Yes, sir. I assume you do not wish to be disturbed.”
“You assume correctly,” Adam said before climbing into the air-conditioned back seat with Madison.
She was inspecting the minibar. Glasses clinked as her slight figure straightened and she slammed the lid closed. Had she been snooping? Did she suspect him of hiding drugs or what? She’d been acting a bit strange all evening. Perceptive to a fault, she’d probably guessed that he’d lied about not doing any drugs, or maybe she was suspicious about his reason for refusing her visit to his apartment. He hoped she didn’t press the issue. He wasn’t sure how he’d hide his recently obtained roommate. Adam had promised Madison that his father was out of his life for good, and he didn’t want her to know that he wasn’t capable of confronting the man and telling him to get lost. She didn’t need to know that. Madison thought he was strong.
Adam set his cookies on the seat and pointed at the minibar. “Would you like a drink?”