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Excerpt: Temptation

Chapter Six

Kaine’s rock star sanctuary in the Lainesbough Hotel was everything Holly expected, rich and tasteful. Holly spotted the heavy security stationed in the five-star hotel’s lobby, and outside the private elevator that led to his penthouse. Surprisingly, the security made Holly feel more like a prisoner.

“Are you ever truly alone Kaine?”

“Only when I want it.”

How often did that occur?

They stood dripping wet in the center of his suite. She was close, oh, so close to Kaine, and the moment was growing more, and more awkward. What the hell was she doing in Kaine Walker’s suite?

Mercifully, he went to check his messages. The small water spot staining the thick carpet where she stood was spreading quickly. Her rain-drenched clothes clung to her shivering body, forcing her nipples to harden and protrude through the blood-red sweater. “I’m freezing.” She insisted, fighting to stop her teeth from chattering.

A mischievous glint flashed in Kaine’s dreamy eyes, but his long dark lashes made it hard for her to study his ulterior motives.

“I need to do something about these clothes,” she warned.

“No trouble,” he countered as if waking from a trance. “Tell me your size, and taste in clothes. I’ll send my personal assistant out to buy you anything you want.”

“That won’t be necessary. Is there something I can put on until the hotel can dry, and press these garments?”

“If you’re sure? Check out my closet. You’ll find T-shirts, Levi’s. There are belts and socks in the drawers.” He offered, and politely excused himself by saying, “I need to wash out the gel Peter gobbed in my hair at the shoot straightaway. The rain has made it all one big bloody mess. There should be white terry cloth robes around somewhere. You’re welcome to one until you find warm and comfortable clothes.”

Holly moved her head as if in agreement with no alternative ideas for what to do.

Kaine called room service and disappeared into an adjoining room.

Holly twirled around and hugged herself. She was in London, in Kaine Walker’s lavish hotel suite, with the toast of London, a few feet away. Holly listened to the shower start.

He’s naked!

The potent images instantly popped into her mind. Soap bubbles leisurely beading and dripping down his dark chest hair.

She traced the path of soapsuds past his slim waist to his thin trail of hair leading her to erotic fantasies. Holly lingered dreaming of him, questioning if she’d make him howl with pleasure late in the dark, both lost in the fire of their love.

A flash of lightning pierced her extravagant dream of Kaine and returned to the task of finding something to wear. She surveyed his suite intrigued with his life on the road. It sounded so romantic traveling like a vagabond from city-to-city all over the world.

Strewn around the room were many books, perhaps as many as thirty or forty. His interests varied from the music industry magazines to hardback books about adventure and science fiction.

Holly laughed aloud. There wasn’t much difference between the music industry magazines with the high-tech equipment musician’s used these days and science fiction. On another table, was a tall pile of paperback westerns. She’d bet he’d be an outlaw at heart! She glanced down at the desk to a stack of messages, and mail. She browsed as her researcher’s mind worked overtime compiling a preliminary profile of the mysterious singer. There were messages from magazines, newspapers, and TV, plus notes, and letters from internationally renowned names. Telegrams and faxes with messages of congratulation, invitations to anywhere, and everywhere, from kings to presidents. And another separate stack of invitations to sporting events and elite club grand openings.

Kaine Walker was in high demand judging by the fan letters, wedding proposals, and provocative sexual propositions. Growing more curious, Holly moved onto another small pile of personal requests. They asked for money to aid sick or dying children, families devastated by natural disasters, hospitals, and missionaries seeking his assistance. The next pile was special papers, as they were clipped and had a tiny Post-it note attached instructing — Give them what they want, don’t sign my name.

Holly clasped her heart. Kaine, this wonderful man, turned out to be a champion of the people. She’d been correct about him not acting spoiled. He was a hero. Kaine cared about life, took responsibility to make a better world.

The last thick pile was marked “security.” She thumbed through crank letters and threats. To her surprise, there were many death threats. She muttered to herself as her fairy tale dream world collapsed into a harsh, black reality. Kaine’s world-class performance artistry had made him beloved by millions, but it also placed him in danger because of a few lunatics.

Holly sat in the desk chair, shivering, noticing how cold, and hungry she was as she examined the lavish suite. She saw leaning against the wall by the window, three of the finest guitars she had ever seen. There was a Fender 1957 Stratocaster, a customized, black, lacquered signature Stratocaster with ‘Kaine’ signed in gold script on the neck.

Her attention settled on the third guitar, an acoustic Martin and might even be the one he tuned backstage. She reverently picked it up to strum a few chords aware it was worth tens of thousands of dollars. The instrument’s perfect melody lured her to play a few more chords as it resonated about in the lavish suite with the quality of sound only found in vintage, handmade wood.

On the table, were hastily written lyrics and scribbles, and she knew what they were. Words and fragments of songs committed to paper when the flash of creation had raced in Kaine’s brilliant mind.

Perhaps one day she would listen to these meager snippets in a number one song.

Yes, she remembered a long time ago, when many pieces of paper littered her purse.

Holly took a few minutes to play a few of half-written songs, following the chords on the scribbled notes. She felt his genius and understood why Kaine was the greatest singer/songwriter of his time. He understood his world well, he not only observed it, but apparently, he’d lived it.

Holly spotted a cassette/compact disk player with many audio tapes strewn everywhere. No question, the cassettes, were another way to protect his lyrics, and fragments of lines that circled his mind.

There were CDs of the blues guitarist John Roberts, along with a few newer artists, and bands never mentioned on L.A.’s FM radio stations. She leaned the guitar gently against the wall and popped in a Roberts CD and headed for Kaine’s intimate world.

Holly peeked into Kaine’s bedroom with the excitement of a maiden. She glanced around nervously. It was a sad sight. This room held no future for her. Surely, Luka would prevent her from curling up beside Kaine to make love.

No, this room was merely a sweet fantasy. She studied his massive queen-sized bed while she questioned if he truly slept alone. His muted-gold, bed cover shimmered like a magic carpet waiting to carry someone other than her to ecstasy. On the nightstand, were an assortment of throat sprays and lozenges. The rest of the bedroom was traditional European furnishings. It was clear the maid missed his suite or told not to disturb his privacy. His stage and casual designer clothes alike were strewn about and his Louis Vuitton luggage had opened wherever they’d landed.

Holly stepped over the clutter to enter an enormous walk-in closet. There was a long row of leather apparel hanging neatly in garment bags. Costumes, she assumed. The confined area reeked of his special scent — leather and cologne. She lingered inhaling his scent with a deep, purposeful breath until her head was reeling with memories of their kiss in the video. She reached out to touch an uncovered leather jacket and the sleeve was soft, supple, and smooth as his lips.

As if by magic, a melody floated from the shower. Kaine was humming, and then singing, “Now That I’ve Found You.” She listened to the heartfelt, romantic lyrics. She smiled, thinking Luka failed to tell her that Kaine was also a loving, and caring man. From what Holly heard, this new song reflected a sensitive and tender man. A man whose lyrics said he had been alone too long.

There were no signs in the suite of another woman or legions of them, as she would have expected. There were no remnants of drugs, empty alcohol containers, or cigarettes. The entree, he’d ordered for dinner, was healthy, and light, with the finest champagne. He had the best the world offered, and she considered the possibility that Kaine would have her too.

Holly listened to Kaine’s dreamy voice, a voice with no edges while picturing her hands unhurriedly gliding up and down his silky flesh. Caught up in the fantasy, Holly pulled off her wet jacket, soaked sweater, and a new bra, realizing too late, she’d left her other new purchases at the Hard Rock.

She left her heels by the door, pulled, and tugged off her wet slacks and panties then modeled for her reflection in the wardrobe mirror. She wasn’t close to looking like the usual choice of stick-thin models for rock stars. At five-six and one hundred twenty-five pounds, sometimes she appeared slender — but never thin. She was happy with her full-sized breasts and all the running she’d squeezed in kept her muscles toned and firm.

Kaine, recaptured her thoughts once again, his breathy voice, his words of promise, tempting her, calling her to the edge of her sexual fantasies. She stood naked, hoping he would overlook his promise to be on his best behavior, and instead, overcome with lust, bury himself deep inside her, and lay, making sweet love, or hard and passionate love, until they no longer moved.

She cleared her head of the preposterous dreams. Yes, unfortunately, it was true. She had entertained all the same notions of Luka that morning.

“What the hell am I going to do?” She blurted out aloud to her reflection in the mirror.

She scanned the room for a terry cloth robe — nowhere in his things.

“Damn!” She figured out what she had to do. She leaned against the bathroom door and knocked lightly. She tapped harder and spoke aloud. “Kaine … Kaine? I can’t find the robe.”

“Sorry, My Lady, they’re in here, on the towel bar. Slip in and take one.” He insisted, gurgling under the water.

Great! So unsure of herself, she grabbed a dry T-shirt from the floor and pulled it over her nude body, and freed her knotted, wet hair from the neckline of the shirt. She cautiously pushed open the door. Hot, lavender-scented steam assaulted her leaving her ill at ease so close to his nakedness. Luka certainly wouldn’t understand her in Kaine’s bathroom — especially with Kaine’s fine, muscular body naked and in the shower, lathered in lavender bubbles.

The bath area was huge, glistening white, with gold scrolled trimmings, like an elegant spa. She searched for the towel rack, in the dense steam, and spotted the robe in question, w-a-y across the room, and too far for her to make the crossing.

She decided against the robe, but on her way out, she noticed a wide-toothed comb lying on the white marble counter. She needed to eliminate the tangles in her long wet hair. If it dried as is, to comb it later would be hell. She tiptoed over to the sink. Behind her, she listened to Kaine softly singing her favorite song from his latest CD, Moments of a Memory.

What a wonderful, and private interlude, listening to him confirm what real love was. She forgot where she was, and leaned against the sink, falling deeper into his crooning voice wondering why a man as kind and generous as Kaine lived and slept alone. A gorgeous man that could have any beautiful woman in the world he wanted. It was all there in his dreamy blue eyes, a man that had seen everything traveling the world. Intense eyes that testified he’d done anything and everything he’d wanted. Jaded eyes bored by it all. Lastly, dangerous eyes that could convince her, to join him and do things she’d never dreamed.

A strong sense of apprehension rushed and overcame her though it made no sense. She realized that perhaps Luka had found a cruel way to keep his promise to her when they’d been sitting at the bar at her hotel, and he’d vowed.

I’ll do what I have to do. I promise you won’t sleep alone.

Chapter Seven

What a preposterous idea! She continued that train of thought and mumbled under her breath while standing in the damp mist of the palatial bathroom. A quick review of how her afternoon turned so radically was due to an incredible twist of fate, by attracting the rock stars’ attention.

Holly pulled the comb through her uncooperative curly locks, inhaling short puffs of lavender scented mist. If nothing else happened to her in London, she’d always cherish these precious moments of peace, listening to Kaine’s voice, sweetly seducing her lonely heart.

The longer Kaine sang the closer he drew Holly to the thin shroud that separated them. She imagined touching his soft lavender-scented skin.

To hell with thinking about him!

She boldly leaned over with all the bravery she could summon and peeked at him through a crack between the wall and the thin lining to admire his misty silhouette.

Kaine did not disappoint her. She was transfixed watching the sinewy muscles in his shoulders rippling under his tight skin as his hands washed the lather from his long dark hair. Spellbound in awe, the simple act compelled her to watch him. His toned forearms and rounded biceps flexed as he washed the lather away. It took strength for her to refrain from reaching out to touch him and join in the ritual of rinsing the bubbles from his magnificent body.

Her gaze followed the smooth, shiny curves of his back down past the place where a tan line would have been. Down past his pale slim hips to his long, lean thighs. Even the bubbles clung to him, lingering, wanting to be near him. His calves were shapely like the joggers along L.A.’s beaches. And the light dusting of brown hair hugging his legs relaxed as the bubbles gave way. If she’d ever wanted one wish to come true, she wished he would turn around — now.

Request granted.