Before she had a chance to object—and by the look in her eyes she intended to object, vehemently—he yanked her against him, bent his head and kissed her.

Just claimed her mouth with his, taking advantage of her surprised gasp to slip his tongue between those cherry-red lips and sample the chocolate she’d just licked.

Jesus, fuck. She was right. The chocolate wasn’t just good. It was delectable. Mouthwatering. It blew his mind. And he hated chocolate.

Eve sagged in his arms, as though she’d turned boneless. He hauled her closer, molding her to his body, squashing the rose between them. Her soft curves pressed tight against his firmer bulk. She clutched at him with one hand, grabbing his arm, squeezing it, then slowly letting her hand skim up over his shoulder until she buried it in his hair.

Her tongue drifted over his, toyed with it. Tasted him like he tasted her. And damned if it wasn’t the sweetest, hottest kiss Zachary had ever shared.

He kissed her harder, lost himself to the creamy, rich flavor of Eve and chocolate.

The chocolate had nothing on the woman. Couldn’t compete with her.

Lights flared against his eyes. Once, twice, a million times. Fireworks? From a kiss? That was a first. Not surprising though, not with the way his body reacted to the kiss, but a first.

Fu-uck.

Sanity returned like a sharp slap.

Those bursts of light weren’t fireworks at all. Not even close. They were flashes. Camera flashes. Tons of them.

Zachary broke the kiss with a silent, foul curse and stepped back, holding Eve’s arms to steady her.

Jesus, how stupid could he have been?

She blinked once, then again, scrunching her eyes against the flares of light, looking bewildered at first and then just a little terrified.

“Hell! I’m sorry.” He whispered the apology as he scanned the room. Luke would sort this out instantly, leaving Zachary free to slip away with Eve. “I wasn’t thinking.”

No, he definitely wasn’t. All rational thought had fled his mind as she’d devoured those chocolates.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

The band manager was nowhere to be seen, which meant it was up to Zachary to initiate damage control. Problem was, hundreds of people had caught him and Eve lip-locked on camera. There was very little he could do about it.

Even now flashes continued, and mobile phones were more visible than faces. Every Tom, Dick and photographer had caught Zachary’s impulsive behavior on film.

It was just a matter of time before those photos appeared on the net, in newspapers, on TV and in every gossip rag around the world.

The only good thing about this whole mess was that Zachary’s erection had died a hasty death beneath the flashes of light.

Fuck. How stupid was he? How careless?

In the three years since Speed had soared to fame, he’d never acted so impulsively, so thoughtlessly. But then he’d never had cause. Never met anyone like Eve before. Never wanted to kiss a woman at the expense of his reputation and hers.

Zachary might be used to the lights and fame. He might be used to the paparazzi dogging his every move, but he doubted Eve was. And he was furious at himself for putting her in this position. He knew exactly what the pap was capable of, and he hated them for it.

Knowing there was no alternative but to acknowledge the attention, Zachary lifted his arm in a silent salute and waved.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You got me.” He smiled, shamefaced, at the crowd around him. He should be shamefaced, putting the two of them in this position.

Then he tucked a shell-shocked Eve under his arm and led her through the room, winding around the thicket of bodies pressing toward them and shaking his head at requests for more photos.

“You didn’t get enough already?” he joked with a grin he in no way felt.

“Is she your girlfriend, Jonah?”

“Another one-night stand, or the real thing?”

“What’s her name?”

“Forget her, Jonah. Take me.”

“Take us both.”

The questions and comments kept flying, and Eve gulped noisily at his side.

“Almost to the door,” he murmured, urging her to keep walking.

“If you ever kiss me again,” Eve griped, “I will poke you in the eye, never mind Delilah.”

“Ouch,” was his first whispered response, and “It’ll be worth it,” his next.

“Both eyes then.”

They reached the door, and Zachary hurried her out. He shot a meaningful look at one of the bodyguards Luke had organized for the tour.

The man needed no further instruction. As Zachary grabbed Eve’s hand and raced down the hall, two guards placed themselves in the doorway, effectively stopping anyone from following.

They’d barely slipped around the first corner when Eve came to a dead halt.

A soft groan escaped her throat, and her eyes flickered closed.

Chapter Three

“Eve? Tiny? Can you hear me?”

She could. His voice echoed in the periphery of her mind, but she couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t respond. Her vision darkened and spots danced before her eyes.

Darts of heat ran up her arm, originating from the sharp tingles in her hand.

“Christ, you’re pale as a ghost.”

“Sing it, Grandmother, sing it again.”

There were two voices now. One she recognized, one she didn’t. The first was Jonah’s, the second a child’s.

Someone laughed. A woman. “Okay then, Zachary, but this is the last time and then you need to go to sleep. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Eve tried to gain perspective, tried to force herself back into the present. But it was too late. Jonah held her hand. And the tingles had increased so now it felt like electricity pulsing through her arm.

And then Eve wasn’t Eve anymore.

She was Zachary, the child sitting cross-legged on his bed, listening, rapt, to his grandmother sing.


I have a song to sing with you,

Believe these words we know are true.


He loved the song. Loved the images it inspired every time his grandmother sang it.


Feel it in the rhythm of your heart,

See the time your love will start.


Zachary’s heart began to pound. He closed his eyes.


She’s out there now, quietly waiting,

Red hair, green eyes…fascinating.


And there she was, a clear picture in his mind. Long red hair tumbled over her back, and her green eyes sparkled with laughter.

Warmth filled him from the inside out. Happiness snuck into his bones. No, he didn’t know her yet. Wouldn’t know her for a long time. But one day…


Appearances fool, you have been warned,

Follow your instinct, don’t be torn.


Zachary had no idea what the last lines meant. All he knew was the woman in his head—the woman he saw every time his grandmother, Edna, sang him his lullaby—would eventually be his.

“Eve! I need you to answer me.”

The tingles in her hand ceased. The electricity racing through her arm faded to harmless static, and she lay suspended in the air. Eve opened her eyes, and the world spun around her.

Not standing.

No, she definitely wasn’t standing. She lay horizontal, her right arm hanging limply at her side and the other arm, like the left side of her torso, squashed against a hard wall of warmth.

“Zachary?”

“Wha—? Jesus!”

Ah, it was the adult voice again. The one she recognized. The deep baritone, like the boom of a drum. Jonah’s voice.

Jonah’s body. That’s what she was pressed against. He held her, one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back.

She looked up at him, dazed. “Who’s Edna?”

Jonah blanched.

And then they were moving. Or rather he was moving, striding down the hotel corridor, carrying her. He came to a stop outside a door, and using the wall and his body to support her, dropped one arm and fished around in his pocket. In seconds he had a key card.

He gave it to her. “Take it, please. Open the door.”

Shakily, she slid the card into the lock as he caught her full weight in his arms once again. She pushed the door open.

Jonah had her inside and lying on a couch before the door clicked shut.

“Lie there.” He pointed at her. “Don’t move. Just take a few deep breaths and I’ll be right back.”

Too dizzy to argue, she dropped her head on the cushion and again closed her eyes. The melody of Grandmother Edna’s song drifted through her mind, but she couldn’t remember the words. What she could remember, vividly, were the emotions little Zachary had felt when he heard the song. When he pictured the redhead.

“Are you up to taking a sip of water?”

His voice was close to her ear, and she turned to look at him. Jonah knelt beside the couch, his face pale, his green gaze agitated.

“I think so.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders again, lifting her upper body and bringing a glass to her lips.

She took a few sips. “Thank you. That’s enough.”

He settled her down and sat back on his feet, staring at her. No matter how fuzzy she felt from her vision, Jonah’s presence still packed a punch. This close, Eve found it difficult to draw adequate breath.

“You wanna tell me what just happened?”

Images assailed her, one after the other.

Jonah holding the rose. Jonah laughing. The plate full of truffles. Jonah, kissing her, blowing her mind, taking her sanity. The lights. Thousands of flashes, blinding her. The race to escape. And finally, his arm, reaching towards her…