Starting From Somewhere (Starting From 4)

That was okay by me. My job wasn’t to be interesting—thank God. It was to analyze data and hopefully catch some “cool” tips from Charlie…and the boys in the bands.

Other than the receptionist and Charlie’s assistant, I hadn’t formally met anyone else. I spotted Charlie’s boyfriend, Ky, with him in his office this morning, though. Wow, he was hotter in person than in the photos I’d seen online. Ky was Zero’s bassist and a former professional skateboarder. He still looked the part with his longish dark-blond hair and laid-back Cali vibe.

He and Charlie were a study in opposites. Ky rocked Hawaiian board shorts, black-and-white checked Vans, and a ripped T-shirt. If I hadn’t witnessed Ky’s adoring gaze before he pulled Charlie into his arms, I would never have put them together. I supposed they were proof odd couples worked.

“Ky seems like a great guy,” I replied.

“The very best.” Charlie beamed. “Now I have to ask…why on earth did you flambé yourself?”

I gave a sheepish half smile and stuffed my hands into my pockets. “It wasn’t intentional. I fell asleep reading an astrophysics journal—”

“As one does.”

“Not me. Not usually, anyway. But I must have dozed for an hour or two. When I woke up, I was a little…crispy.”

“Just make sure to moisturize. Often.” Charlie checked his watch and sighed. “Hmm. I hate to waste your time. Let me grab my computer. Do you mind manning the fort for a few minutes?”

“Sure. No problem.”

“Thanks. I’ll see if I have any moisturizer at my desk for you while I’m there,” he called out as he headed around the corner toward the main office area.

I wandered toward the wall of concert photos. Charlie told me most of them were from a recent tour of the Southwest. I homed in on a closeup of Bobby J wielding his guitar like a rock god. His knees were bent, his head was tilted skyward, and the expression on his face was a combination of fierce yet serene. Everything about him was potent and powerful. And thick. His thighs, his biceps, his beard…

I wiped my suddenly clammy palms on my khakis, sneaking a glance toward the hallway leading to the studios, hoping-slash-dreading that Bobby J would appear. Yep. I was a head case. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to get the initial “Whoa, I didn’t know you were that Bobby J” over with or if I was better off avoiding any possible meeting. I couldn’t be here all summer and never run into him, could I? I had a zero percent shot of bumping into him if I hung out in my cubicle, and I liked my cubicle. It was quiet.

Hell, the entire office was a ghost town. For now anyway. The little information I’d analyzed so far for Scratch Records indicated they were about to blow up. In a good way. It was kind of exciting to be at ground zero of a brand-new enterprise.

Of course the second the word “enterprise” popped into my head, my brain took a Star Trek side trip. I could just imagine being on the main bridge of the USS Enterprise with Captain Picard and—

The door opened with a whoosh, sending a warm summer breeze into the cool lobby. A deep voice grumbling on a cell phone ripped me from my reverie. “Yeah, yeah. I’m running late. I’ll be there in a minute. Make it five. I need coffee. See you soon.”

I spun around and froze. We both did.

Wow, he was sexier in daylight. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. I noted the way his jeans hugged his package and the snug fit of his black tee stretched across his broad chest. His dark hair skimmed the collar of his shirt. It was damp as though he’d just jumped out of the shower. He had a harried aura that fit with the bit of conversation I’d overheard. But the second he spotted me and connected the dots, everything seemed to slow to a stop.

Just like that night at the bar, I had his complete attention. It was…daunting.

“Hello,” I said carefully, offering a wan smile. I thought about offering my hand too, but cordially shaking hands with the guy you basically asked to bone you didn’t quite feel right.

Bobby J narrowed his eyes as he moved closer, pausing when he’d successfully invaded my space. He studied me like a bug under a microscope for a long minute, then cocked his head curiously.

“Cody.”

“Yes. Nice to see you again.” I adjusted my glasses and licked my lips nervously.

His gaze slipped to my mouth before meeting my eyes again. “You look different. You’re pink.”

I frowned. “I’m sunburned. And you’re not supposed to point out someone’s flaws. It’s rude.”

“You’re wearing glasses too.”

My forehead creased in indignation. “So?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “You look hot. Pink…but hot.”