“You are seriously the most confusing and irritating person I’ve ever met.”

“You forgot sexy.”

“On purpose.” I shoved his chest. “Because you know you’re like a walking sex toy.”

He burst out laughing. “I like it.”

“You would.”

“I’m writing a song right now.”

“I know.” I shook my head. “Zane, are you on drugs? I was with you all day. You’ve been trying to write the same song all day, with that same sentence. Heck, I could probably write that song better than you.”

“Can’t seem to walk away when you look at me like you want me to stay.” He sang smoothly. “Tell me you mean it when your eyes beg for more. You lie with your words, your body sings the truth, I know you want it as much as I do—” His mouth curved into a smile as his lips brushed a kiss across mine. “You know nobody can make you feel the way I do….”

I was shaking.

He was dangerous.

The type of dangerous that invites itself into your house before you have a chance to say no, then starts rummaging through your fridge and asking if you want pasta for dinner.

He was sneaky dangerous.

“That was great.” I said a little breathless. “Maybe add in a few more words and you’ll have a whole song.”

He nodded, his eyes twinkling with pride. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Letting me kiss you.”

“Pretty sure that’s my line.”

“Pretty sure it’s not.” He kissed my forehead, hesitated, and for one brief second, I figured he’d kiss me again. Instead, he pulled back, all business, and stated in a gruff voice. “Yeah, I’m paying you.”

And that dear friends.

Was how I helped Zane Andrews write his first hit in two years.

I just didn’t know.

Really, how could I know?

That it wasn’t about kissing at all.

It never was.

Chapter Thirteen

Fallon

I REGRETTED GIVING HIM my number almost immediately. Apparently, Dominoes was getting angry that he kept calling them and asking them to approve of lyrics.

So finally, three days after we started our weird partnership.

Three days after the purposeful kiss.

We were back to being whatever we were to begin with, the awkward girl and the pop star.

We spent afternoons together walking on the beach, going to the aquarium, and eating.

Zane loved eating.

But he refused to eat anything without first savoring a few marshmallows, and when I asked him about it, he got so defensive I dropped the subject for fear he was going to be the celebrity that threw his drink in my face and stalked off.

Mags still begged for information.

But I was a vault.

That, and I didn’t really know what to tell her.

It was kind of…not embarrassing? I don’t know what it was, I couldn’t really put my finger on it. Maybe it was my pride, because explaining to her that he was paying me to be like a paid companion just sounded wrong.

He always wanted me to walk in front of him in crowds.

And sometimes he refused to even go into the grocery store because by the looks of the parking lot it was a zoo. His words not mine.

It wasn’t until four days in when he texted me yet another audio sample of lyrics that I drove over to his house.

We weren’t supposed to meet for another hour, but he was driving me insane, and I wasn’t doing anything anyway, might as well not do anything together.

I knocked on his door and heard his muffled, ”Come in.”

The blinds were drawn, and a huge bag of marshmallows lay open on the counter. Big shock there.

“Zane?” I called, walking farther into the beach house, only to see Zane stretch his lean body up off the couch in perfect lion like fashion all before walking around and tossing a marshmallow at my face.

“Four eyes, you made it.”

I blinked.

And then closed my eyes. “You’re naked.”

“Why do people always state the obvious? Of course I’m naked. I was alone, why would I be wearing clothes?”

I covered my eyes, not trusting myself to just open them and take a peek at his impressive body. “Normal people wear clothes at all times!”

“Why are you yelling?”

“Because you’re naked!”

“You already said that. Here, have a marshmallow.” He pelted another one at my body and then another.

“That doesn’t change the fact”—I pulled my hands from my eyes, grabbed the two marshmallows, and chucked them at his head—“that you’re still naked!”

“What would your grandma say about that, I wonder?” Zane teased with a wink.

“She’d probably say your name was blasphemous.”

“Saint?” His eyebrows arched as he walked around the couch and wrapped a blanket around his hips. Thank God. “That’s not my choice of names, after um, hearing about my childhood…” He frowned then shrugged. “My agent thought it would be a good angle.”

“Did you grow up in the Catholic church or something?”

He barked out a laugh. “Or something.”

I managed a tiny breath and turned around, he might not be naked but most of his chest was on display for me to see, and it was impossible not to see all that glistening skin and muscle. “Sorry, I’m early. You wouldn’t stop texting me audio clips, and I figured this was easier.”