LITMIR.BIZ

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love for me. What do you want?”

      To his surprise she blushed, and fiddled with the teaspoon in her hand. The way she worried her lower lip with her teeth made him want to find ways to stop her worrying so much all the time—but everything about Mia got to him. Always had, probably always would. He’d come to terms with it years ago, when she’d made it more than clear that she’d always be off-limits to him.

      “Just say it, Mia,” he repeated, more gently this time. “You know I’d do anything to help Billy.”

      She drew in a deep breath and smiled that hopeful smile at him again, like he’d become her personal savior.

      Bad mistake to unleash that on a tired, aroused man—or maybe it was calculated? Damn, damn, damn. Now he almost wanted the cockroach look back. Anything to stop this crazy tangle of thoughts in his head.

      Showers-bed-Mia. Wet and smiling at him …

      Then her words soaked into his fogged skull and shock ran right through his body, like someone had used crash cart paddles on him. “What did you say?” He hung onto the door lintel for support.

      He’d fallen asleep. That was what it was. He was dreaming of her again.

      Then the words came back to him, like a tennis ball rebounding in his face over the net.

      “I want you to elope with me.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      ALL her life Mia had loved peace and silence, but when you were waiting for a man to answer a proposal of marriage it got downright unnerving. C.J. was staring at her as if she was an interesting disease he’d like to cure—if only he could work out what kind.

      “Well?” she said—or squeaked—when she couldn’t stand it any more.

      He gave her a slow smile. “I’m waiting.”

      “For what?” Hadn’t she said enough?

      “The rest,” he said patiently. “You never call me unless Billy needs something. You never could stand the sight of me. Even the other week at the wedding you wouldn’t look at me or talk to me. There must be a reason why you picked me to elope with.”

       Couldn’t stand the sight of him?

      The sight of C.J. Hunter couldn’t revolt any woman. Even in ancient black track pants, a crumpled polo shirt and runners that had seen better days, he was too easy to watch. Lithe and quietly athletic, with a runner’s build instead of a weight-lifter’s, his once shaggy, reddish-brown rocker’s hair was short and dark … and those eyes, deep and green, and his lazy, just crooked smile—

      No. The sight of him wasn’t anything she could complain about. She’d always appreciated his looks—what girl couldn’t?—but that was as far as she’d allowed it to go, with her mother’s grim example in front of her all her life.

      Okay, so she’d been a bit disapproving of all rock stars. And she’d assumed he’d end up like her dad … but then, she hadn’t known Dad well enough to see that his love for Nicole had governed his behavior for years. She hadn’t known about C.J.’s ambitions for the rest of his life.

      The universe was obviously teaching her the stupidity of assuming anything.

      “It wasn’t personal.” Her gaze fell from the compelling honesty in his. “I was sixteen when we met. I judged you by the other party animals around me, and not for yourself. I’m sorry if I was rude.”

      “You were never openly rude, Mia. Bad manners were beneath you. You just didn’t want to know me. You always kept me at a distance.” He shrugged. “I always want to sing ‘She’s So High Above Me’ when you’re around.”

      Despite her best will, she felt the blush creeping up her cheek, but she gave him a straight look, demanding answers. “What’s that got to do with—with—?” She tried to say “my proposal” and hated herself for chickening out. “With what I just said?”

      He shrugged, and how he made it look sexy she’d never know. But with C.J., it was another of life’s annoying mysteries. “Why me?”

      Now her heart pounded so hard she could almost feel it hitting her throat. Her negotiation skills would never be more needed than now. “It’s to help Dad. I need someone really famous who’s walked from that life. If you’d been a fame-chaser it might have created a stir, but you with your second Grammy the other week, and me with my—” She skidded to a halt. No one apart from Dad, Nicole, Uncle Martin and Uncle Dane knew her secret yet. Though the first book was done, and due for release in a few months, she knew they’d fall all over it if she added a final chapter as Mia Hunter—if she could get C.J. to go along with this caper. “Um, and both of us being on the reclusive side—”

      “Instant sensation. Got it—and good thinking,” he said dryly. “It seems my past comes in handy for something. Is that the only reason?”

      “You care about Dad. I know you wouldn’t betray his confidence.”

      “Thanks,” he said dryly. “High praise, coming from you.”

      Oh, darn it. She was blushing again! She rushed into speech. “And you’re the only famous man around my age I know who isn’t a slimeball. You’re a decent guy.”

      After a startled moment he burst out laughing. “I didn’t know you’d even thought that much about me. But that’s a reason for a nice girl to ask a guy on a date, not to offer marriage.”

      She felt her blush grow deeper. “Well, um …” She made a strangled sound, and then said it. “All I’m offering is a fake marriage to make the media chase us around and take the heat from Dad.”

      Another moment—two, thirty seconds … It stretched out and out, until the air around her felt like it would snap. “I see,” he said, his voice strange. “I guess I should’ve seen that coming.”

      Could any more blood pool in her cheeks? It was spilling down her throat. What had seemed so easy, so straightforward in the doctor’s office now seemed like a road pitted with unseen potholes.

      “So what’s the rest?” he asked, no longer sounding exhausted; cynicism had bolted straight past exhaustion and taken first place. “And don’t tell me you don’t have it all mapped out, Mia. You always have a plan.”

      “You—you mean you’ll do it?”

      Oh, curse her breathlessness! She was supposed to be cool and in control here.

      His brow lifted, giving him a look of superiority she didn’t like. “I’m not agreeing to anything until I know what I’m letting myself in for. Have you been to the lawyer’s office yet, to draw up a contract?”

      Her reaction must have been obvious, because he shrugged: the picture of a cool, uncaring male leaning against the doorpost. “You’d never put yourself in a situation you couldn’t control. You’d want it all in writing, and for me to sign something that sets boundaries and enforces your ‘hands off’ policy.”

      Mia gaped at his perception.

      He laughed outright. “Four years as part of End Game, and you thought I wouldn’t know that about you?” He shook his head. “You kept your disdain for lowly musos up on a handy shelf for you to grab and toss at us any time you needed it.”

      Her hands curled into fists; she swallowed down the lump of pure anger. Cool and in control. That was the key to winning. “So you’ll sign the contract?”

      “No.”

      The shock shivered straight from her brain down her spine. Where was the straightforward course she’d set for this plan? She’d thought C.J.—always easygoing, and looking to Dad like a second father—would be happy to follow her lead. Dad would get his rest, C.J.—well, he’d enjoy it … and she could kick-start her new life. This was the perfect

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