Of all the Kingston brothers, Cassidy thought Dash the best-looking, his face lean, his features chiseled. He had full lips and he knew how to use them to give maximum pleasure. At the reminder, she folded her arms across her chest, covering her nipples so he couldn’t see how he affected her.
Sasha glanced at Dash. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Actually, it’s a perfect idea,” Cassidy said. “Dash and I can discuss what he and the band need from me.” She shot Sasha a reassuring gaze. Though Cassidy appreciated the support, she could handle Dash.
“Okay.” Although Sasha’s forehead wrinkled in worry, she walked over and gave Cassidy a hug, which she gratefully returned. Sasha was the sister she’d never had, and Cassidy loved her.
Sasha strode out of the kitchen, pausing to whisper something in Dash’s ear that caused him to wince. A threat to the family jewels if he hurt Cassidy again, no doubt.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She nodded. She’d left her handbag in the kitchen, grabbed it from one of the chairs, and followed him out, coming to a stop in front of the almost-five-hundred-thousand-dollar sports car. This she knew from her brother and his obsession with them.
“Boys and their toys,” she muttered as he opened the door for her.
Dash chuckled, the sound a low rasp in her ear she was eager to escape, but as she slid into the low-slung seat, she caught a whiff of his familiar, musky scent. She inhaled, and arousal hit low in her abdomen as he shut the door, leaving her in the small interior, surrounded by the heady cologne. Already, she regretted not waiting for Sasha to drive her back.
There was no conversation thanks to the loud engine revving as he drove, but when he pulled into his long driveway, he parked the car and cut the motor.
Before she could find the door handle and escape, he spoke. “Cassidy, wait.”
Her hand froze and she had no choice but to turn toward him.
He’d placed his tanned, inked forearm onto the top of her seat, bringing them together in the small car. She’d already been inhaling his scent and getting worked up enough to squirm in her seat. Now his handsome face was too close for comfort. She’d gone from thinking they should clear things up between them to wanting to get away from his magnetic pull.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“You said we should talk about what the band needs from you,” Dash said.
She rolled her eyes. “I know how to do my job. I just didn’t want to make Sasha go out of her way to take me to my car when you were leaving anyway.” She pivoted toward the door, intending to make her getaway.
“I’m sorry.” His low tone reminded her of the rumbling voice on stage that had women throwing their panties at his feet.
But damn him, his words stopped her from leaving. “You’re sorry. For what?”
If he was going to apologize, she wanted him to spell out what he’d done wrong.
“Look at me and I’ll tell you,” he said.
She turned. The man across from her wasn’t the cocky rock star who strutted around on stage like he owned the world. This Dash Kingston appeared to be a mere mortal, not a rock god. He was a man who’d been humbled by his actions. Although she didn’t kid herself that he’d have apologized otherwise, she couldn’t help but respond to the real person behind the cocky façade he presented to everyone else.
She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to explain.
A muscle pulled in his jaw. “I shouldn’t have left you the morning after without saying goodbye. That was a shitty thing to do.”
“Yeah, it was.” She blew out a breath, relieved he hadn’t apologized for sleeping with her. She didn’t think she could deal with being one of his regrets.
“I should have dealt with things better.” He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Hell, Cass. I should have handled you better.”
Glad he not only recognized he’d treated her like one of his groupies and pleased he’d acknowledged it out loud, she decided to put her night with Dash where it belonged. “Thanks, Dash. It’s in the past but I appreciate the apology.”
Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, at least not in her heart, where somehow this man had gotten to her, she turned and let herself out of the car.
Chapter Two
The night after finding out the paternity results, Dash slept like the dead for the first time since the nightmare had begun. With that weight off his chest, he was able to look to the future. The band. His lyrics. His family.
This morning, he and the guys were at a satellite radio station for an interview about their new member and the direction they planned to take their music. Along for the day was their publicist, Naomi Smith, and Cassidy, who had just returned from picking up a coffee order for them all.
Despite his apology, she still avoided him when she could, and he didn’t blame her. Their night together had been staggering in its intensity, and he’d blown her off afterward, treating her like shit. It would take more than an apology to make it up to her. Now that his mind was clear of worry, he could focus again, and she was all he could see.
But right now he had an interview to focus on, and the host had started out brutal and hadn’t let up. Lester Jones was a wannabe musician who’d never made it big, yet somehow became an influential critic and interviewer at Rolling Stone and Vice before gaining his own slot on satellite radio. He’d played with a band at the same music festivals as the Original Kings in their pre-fame days and had never gotten the same audience support or response. He’d resented them ever since.
As an interviewer, he was known for being a dick, so here they were. Dash in a black tee and jeans, the pretentious asshole wearing a sport jacket and dress shirt, looking down his nose at him.
“Why did Dominic quit?” The prick seemed focused on Dash and not the other members of the band.
“You’ll have to ask him.” Dash refused to discuss his friend’s problems. He’d been grilled for the last ten minutes and was getting sick of it.
“Is it true he’s addicted to blow?” the jackwad continued.
Dash stiffened. “Same answer. Move on or we’re out of here,” he muttered, adjusting the shades he wore because the sun was streaming in through the plate-glass window along the back wall.
A glance at Mac, Axel, and Jagger, shifting in their seats, drinking their caffeine, told him they were as wired as he was.
The next questions were aimed at Axel, and they were softballs in comparison, for which Dash was grateful.
He remembered Dominic tossing a drink in an interviewer’s face when he hadn’t liked the man’s tone, and Dash didn’t know Axel well enough yet to gauge his temperament. At least he wasn’t on drugs like Dom had been.
“We all know Caged Chaos broke up so Denny could go solo,” Lester was saying of Axel’s former lead singer. “But why join the Original Kings?”
Axel drummed his ringed fingers on the table in front of them. “Good music, solid guys, why the fuck not?”
Dash couldn’t hold back his laugh because clearly Axel thought this guy was as much of an asshole as Dash did.
Lester frowned and turned his gaze to Dash again. “It’s all over the news that you aren’t the father of Daisy Masterson’s baby. How relieved are you?”