If Zachary could have sat back down on his throne and hauled her with him, he would have. In a heartbeat. Would have stripped every last stitch of clothing from her lithe body, pulled her onto his lap and let her take them for the ride of their lives.

But that would hardly fit in with the revamped, sexually restrained Jonah Speed, now would it?

Something must have alerted her to his focused attention, because her gaze shifted, leaving Nathan and Sophie and landing firmly on him. Her lovely features reflected surprise, and after a couple of seconds, Zachary swore he saw a flicker of interest as well.

Satisfaction pooled deep in his stomach.

It had been a long while since he’d felt this level of attraction to anyone. A long time since he’d wanted a woman to consciously want him like he wanted her.

He’d grown altogether too used to the availability of a soft body whenever he desired one—or two. Groupies willing to offer whatever Zachary wanted. Sex with them had long since ceased to provide the satisfaction or the high it once had. Sex with them had long since stopped. Period. While he searched for something more meaningful, all they craved was a fix of the superstar, not the real man.

Zachary acted on impulse. “I’ll be right back.”

Luke answered, but Zachary didn’t register his words. He was too intent on his target.

Her cheeks pinked as he approached, and her chest rose and fell rapidly, but she watched every step, and her eyes filled with questions as he neared. Her scent filtered through his nose like a morning breeze, fresh and floral and arousing as hell.

She raised an eyebrow, highlighting blue eyes that resembled a spring sky—cloudless, with the promise of the heat to come.

Beautiful.

Her gaze held him rapt. Zachary couldn’t look away, didn’t want to look anywhere but at her.

The intensity of his stare must have made her uncomfortable, because after a moment she flinched uneasily. “Can I help you?”

Oh, yeah. She could help him…so long as she got them both naked in the next three seconds.

Restraint, Pace. Remember?

“Uh, are you okay?” she asked curiously.

Too busy devouring her stunning features with his gaze, Zachary didn’t answer.

She flinched again. “You’re looking at me as though…” The words stumbled and died. “Oh, shit.” Her mouth formed a perfect “O” and her eyes widened dramatically. “I have something on my face, don’t I?” She brushed at her cheeks. “Crumbs? Lipstick? Mascara on my chin?”

Bemused, Zachary shook his head. Her face was perfect. So was her Australian accent.

She frowned, then quickly clamped her mouth shut before opening it again, only this time her lips covered her teeth. “Somesing in my teef? A pieth of food?”

Again Zachary shook his head, incredulous that she could pull such a ridiculous face yet still look so pretty.

She breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“Okay. Then…what? Do you need makeup, maybe?” But she was already shaking her head as her gaze roved over his features. One look was enough to tell her makeup was not his thing.

“No.”

“Ah, he talks.”

Zachary grinned.

“Look, mate. You realize you’re freaking me out a bit here, just staring at me… Oh, Lord, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost, no.” Although Zachary was struck by a strange sense of déjà vu. Something about her seemed so…familiar.

“Then what?” She held her hands up in question. “Are you going to explain why you’re looking at me like that?”

“You reminded me of my grandmother, for a minute there.” An image of Edna, his grandmother, flittered through his mind.

She frowned. “I’m twenty-five and I remind you of your grandmother? That cannot be a good thing.”

The chuckle he emitted was belly deep. “You reminded me about something she taught me,” he amended.

“Your nan taught you to stare at women until they squirm awkwardly on the spot?”

“No. She taught me to always appreciate the beauty in the world around me. And right now, I’m pretty damn sure I’m looking at the most beautiful part of Australia.”

Her jaw dropped. “P-pardon?”

Her accent made the word sound like puh-din.

“I’m looking at you, thinking you are, without a doubt, the most stunning part of Australia.” He hesitated just a second, then caught her delicate arm in his hand, aware of how large his fingers looked as they wrapped around her wrist.

He pressed the two roses into her palm. “For you. Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman. Consider it my way of expressing my appreciation.”


Before a startled Eve Andrews had time to react to the drummer’s presence and unexpected gift, Jonah Speed turned around and headed back in the direction he’d come. He’d stared at her through his startling green eyes, called her beautiful, given her the flowers, blown her world clear off its axis and then walked away.

Just walked away.

What the…?

Eve blinked through her surprise and stared dumbfounded at the roses. She didn’t see them. All she saw were those eyes, so incredibly green they didn’t seem real. So incredibly arousing, she suspected she’d seen the promise of fulfillment of a million carnal fantasies in them.

Her heart beat jaggedly. Just as well he hadn’t hung around to chat further. Breathlessness rendered her incapable of speech.

Jonah Speed had just called her beautiful.

Her. Of all people. The irony was enough to inspire hysterical laughter. It bubbled in her chest, but she bit it back.

Photographs and movie clips did Jonah little justice. On paper and onscreen he was criminally sexy. In real life, drop-dead gorgeous didn’t adequately describe him. Heart-stopping, breathtaking, toe-curling, goose-bump-inducing…

Nope. Even those words weren’t powerful enough. They didn’t capture the essence of his blistering appeal.

His aura still held her frozen to the spot. Frozen, but heating up with every second that passed. And it wasn’t just the fact that he was Jonah Speed.

Speed’s drummer, Jonah Speed. The man Rolling Stone Magazine had described as a rock legend, drummer extraordinaire and lethal lady magnet.

Hands-down the sexiest rock star in the world, Jonah Speed.

No, it wasn’t his superstardom that had her awed. It was just him. His very presence.

She raised her eyes to watch him walk away. He had his back to her, and his damp T-shirt stretched taut across shoulders broader than a football field. Even from behind, he oozed sex appeal. It radiated off him in waves.

Her stomach curled in around itself, capturing millions of tiny butterflies fluttering wildly about within.

The crewmembers milling backstage stopped to watch Jonah approach his brothers and their band manager. More than one audible intake of air echoed through her ears as he walked by, confirming they too were struck by his tangible sexuality.

Eve’s heart raced like a hummingbird’s wings.

For long seconds she held the roses, stunned. These flowers had been tossed to Jonah by his rabid fans. From her view in the wings backstage, she’d seen the face of one woman who’d thrown roses, seen the star-struck adoration in her expression, the desperation to be noticed.

Could one of these roses be from her?

Eve was pretty sure when the roses were first offered to Jonah, they’d been fresher than they were now. Although still striking, the petals had wilted, their edges turning black. When she raised the flowers to her nose to sniff their delicate fragrance, she found none.

Her gaze returned to Jonah. He stood with the band, listening to whatever Luke Struthers was telling them. At regular intervals one or other of the Speed brothers nodded, commented or looked in the direction Luke pointed.

Goose bumps erupted over her skin.

Even in work mode, Jonah stood out. His presence made Eve want to tug at her shirt—yank it over her shoulders and present herself naked to the enthralling sex god.

Stunned by her impulses, she ran a calming hand gently over the left side of her face, from her forehead down to her neck.

It calmed her not at all.

Her interaction with Jonah had lasted a minute, maybe two, yet it had left her with an unexpected hunger.

A desperate, greedy need for more.

Shaking off temptation and grounding herself firmly in reality—the same reality where she was just a regular person and she hadn’t been given half-dead roses by Jonah Speed—she turned back to the table behind her and finished packing her portable makeup box with trembling hands.

Over the years, Eve had assembled an inspiring collection of makeup. A collection that caused raptures in Delilah and Devine, Speed’s gorgeous yet surprisingly down-to-earth back-up singers. The two of them had contacted her three months ago, inviting her to join them for the six-month duration of the Speed worldwide concert tour.

Hard work, determination and a fierce belief in her ability had helped Eve to make a name for herself as a makeup artist in the Australian TV and film industry, but she’d had no idea her reputation had crossed oceans. The thought that she was now officially on tour with Speed still flabbergasted her.

Who would have thought the scarred, traumatized girl who grew up in Tamworth would be part of the entertainment event of the decade?

She popped the last eyeliner back in its slot and tucked a lipstick in a side pocket before snapping the box shut. Silently giving thanks to the inventor of the wheel, she pulled up the handle, propped the heavy, jam-packed case at an angle and set off, heading to the tunnel leading to the inside of the arena, pulling the case behind her.