Rooms shouldn’t be circular.
The geometry of it hurt Derek’s head, and his head already hurt plenty. He’d spent the night tossing and turning on the sofa bed, despite the surprisingly comfortable mattress, playing back all the little sounds he’d heard through Jo’s door. Sounds he was confident she’d wanted him to hear. He’d jerked off in the shower—twice—just to take the edge off, but it hadn’t helped. How the hell was he supposed to get through the next few days when the nanny was such a goddamn tease?
“Here’s your coffee, bossman.” A short, curvy brunette appeared at his side, holding out a cardboard to-go cup.
“I told you not to call me that.”
Kat always did like to push his buttons, but she was the best damn tour assistant in the business and he was grateful she’d agreed to come back to the job to help him lock down thisMidnight Storm tour. He accepted the cup, taking a sip despite the steam spewing from the opening in the lid and wincing as the bitter drink burned his tongue.
“This is fun,” she said, hooking her arm through his and looking around at the crowded event space. “Literally getting the band back together.”
He grunted in agreement.
At least someone was having a good time. Then again, it wasn’t Kat’s job to worry about whatever the fuck was going on with Jackson. She wasn’t the one who needed to sign off on a comeback that would require the label to invest a dollar amount with far too many zeros for his comfort level.
Still, she wasn’t entirely wrong. There was something kind of fun about being back in the same place as the people he’d built his career with so many years ago. Helikedworking with the band he’d championed when he was still new to the music industry and the perky assistant who made sure Zach always had his dirty matcha latte with an extra pump of pistachio.
Derek glanced around the ballroom at the tables of celebrities, all slightly past their prime—the woman who’d starred as her own doppelganger on a children’s TV show side by side with the pop star who had been reduced to little more than a gif on the internet. Enthusiastic fans decked out in overpriced merch crowded around them, snapping selfies and shoving old CD cases and posters under their noses for signatures. Above each table, a banner hung from the ceiling with a photograph of the celebrity at the height of their fame.
Midnight Storm’s banner was from the photoshoot forSuperfanthat ran mere weeks before the band broke up, and only days before Kat had asked for reassignment to another band. To this day, she’d never divulged what had led to that particular request, though it had turned out to be a moot point in the end.
“I'm glad you came back for this.” Derek took another sip of his scalding coffee. Caffeine was worth the burned tongue.
Her smile turned wooden, a sadness pulling at the corner of her eyes. “Didn’t take much convincing. Those are my guys, whether they want to be or not,” she said, watching as the band posed for another photograph with a middle-aged woman in a faded t-shirt from their last stadium tour.
“Still. Thanks for doing this. I know you’ve moved on to bigger and better things.”
“What could be bigger and better than Midnight Storm?”
Derek stiffened at the sound of Jo’s voice, the back of his neck prickling as the scent of her enveloped him, all green apple and fresh rain. How did someone smell likerain?Logically he knew it was her shampoo, not that her skin smelled like fruit and weather patterns—
Dammit, stop thinking about the smell of her skin.
He turned to find his daughter and the nanny, hand in hand, in matching Hotel Bellwether t-shirts, but where Annie had paired hers with pink and purple polka dot leggings, Jo wore jean cut offs that drew his attention to the long line of her toned, tanned legs.
“Is that Annie?” Kat exclaimed, holding her arms out as his daughter barreled into her waiting hug. “When did you get sobig? What are you, twelve now?”
Annie giggled. “I’m seven!”
“What’s with the t-shirts?” Derek asked as his daughter chatted happily with Kat.
“She wanted us to dress in matching outfits.” Jo held the hem of the shirt away from her petite frame, the shift tugging the fabric tightly across her chest. “Do you like them?”
“Daddy, I can read Kat’s books, right?” Annie asked, oblivious to the way Kat grimaced and mouthed ‘Sorry’ behind his daughter’s back. When Kat had left the music business, she’d found a second career as a romance novelist. A fairly successful one, if Beckett was to be believed.
“Kat writes grown-up books, peanut,” Derek said.
“ButThe Phoenix Princessis for middle schoolers and I’m already on the third book in the series.”
“I bet there are all kinds of awesome books in the library here.”
“There’s alibrary?” Annie asked, mouth hanging open.
“What do you say, kid? Should we check it out?” Jo asked.
“Do you think they have Kat’s books?”
Jo caught Kat’s eye above Annie’s head, clocking the subtle shake of the assistant’s head before turning her attention back to his daughter. “Only one way to find out.”