Sweet Temptation: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 3)

and potatoes…?
Me: There’s meat on it.
I’d barely put the phone down when I heard the door open.
I watched him walk into the living room. Actually, I kinda thrust my hip out, exaggerating the curves of my body. I’d already done it before I knew I was going to, so then I was kinda stuck in an unnecessary seductress pose. For no particular reason.
Well, because there was a hot man walking up to me. Some things were just automatic.
Didn’t seem to matter, because at the moment, the hot man only had eyes for my salad. “That’s a salad?”
I glanced at the mountain in my salad bowl.
“Okay, when I was like eighteen,” I explained, “I worked at a barbecue restaurant. They served a pulled pork salad that was basically a handful of lettuce with a whole barbecued pig on top. So yes, to me, this is a salad.”
“Fair enough.” He looked at me. Was that the slightest glint of amusement I saw in his eyes?
Maybe it was hunger. Hard to tell.
But damn, he was handsome. That face.
I was a major face girl.
Obviously, I enjoyed a nice muscular butt or a six-pack or a solid set of shoulders as much as the next girl—and my new bodyguard appeared to be endowed with all those features, too. But I’d made very bad decisions, historically, over a handsome face.
“I’d love some,” he said, when I just stared. “If you have enough.”
“I do.” I went to get him one of my giant salad bowls and put it together for him as he watched.
“I should tell you,” he said, “you’re not expected to feed me. I was just gonna call for delivery, actually. I’m pretty used to it. And whenever I do that, if you want to join in, and I can order you some.”
“Sure. I love delivery. But if I’m cooking, I don’t mind.”
He didn’t say anything else about it, but I got the feeling he didn’t want me waiting on him in any way.
Too bad.
“Here you go, big boy.” I set his salad, heaped high with salmon and chicken, in front of him. I passed him a fork, then lined up several bottles of dressing in front of him. “Take your pick. I’d recommend the green goddess dressing. My friend Carissa makes it. It’s to die for.”
He took my recommendation, which pleased me way too much.
Maybe there was hope for us becoming copacetic here?
Unfortunately, the whole invite-him-to-a-show-and-do-him-backstage idea was probably out, now that he was sticking around as my bodyguard. And had politely requested that I not flirt with him.
But we could be friendly, right?
Butting heads with him twenty-four-seven was bound to get old, fast.
“Cheese?” I set a few bowls of cheese in front of him. I had a bunch of grated and chopped stuff left over from last night’s party; my friend Jewel was pretty handy in the kitchen, and he’d made us nachos at like midnight. “That’s smoked gouda, and white cheddar from New Zealand. And feta, obviously.”
“Thank you.”
I watched as he dressed his salad with all the fixings.
“So, what’s on your agenda for the rest of the day?” I prodded gently. He seemed like a quiet man, but I was curious about what he did all day.
Flynn just always seemed to stand around, but what the fuck did I know? I never really paid all that much attention, honestly.
And Flynn wasn’t much of a talker either.
“I still have some calls to make,” he said. “Then I’ll take another look around here. I took a quick look through the house last night, but I’ll go over it in the daylight.”
“And what are you looking for?”
“Anything that might cause a security vulnerability,” he said, meeting my eyes. His were this gorgeous light-brown color that sometimes looked darker and sometimes reflected the light. “Maddox and his guy will be here later this afternoon. You can just go about your day.” I watched him pick up his fork and his salad bowl. He nodded at me. “Thank you, really. This is generous.”
“You’re welcome.” Why was he picking it up, though?
“Enjoy your lunch,” he said. Then he turned and disappeared up the hall to the guest room. I heard the door close.
My jaw had tumbled open somewhere around the moment he walked out of the room.
I put my hands on my hips, though no one was here to see it. “Well, fuck,” I muttered to myself.
That was… strange.
Not that he’d walked out. That I was so… disappointed about it.
Stop drooling all over him.
He’s your bodyguard.
Yes. Yes, he was. And he said he had work to do.
But to be fair to me, I’d never had a bodyguard before. Maybe I just had to get used to the routine.
And the rules?
Fuck, I hated rules, though.
I took my salad down the other hall, to my music room, and chilled out to Elton John’s “Bennie and the Jets,” one of my favorite songs of all time. And when I “chilled out” to music, I cranked it. Loud.
The music room wasn’t soundproofed like my studio downstairs was, but oh well.
Just another thing my new live-in bodyguard was gonna have to get used to.
And speaking of bodyguards…
When I was finished eating, I turned the music down and called Flynn. It rang a few times, and I mentally weighed the likelihood he’d pick up. No, because it was easier to awkwardly avoid me if he let it go to voicemail. Yes, because he’d feel duty bound to answer in case my hair was on fire and I needed him.
Duty won out.
“Hello, Summer,” he answered, stiffly. “Everything okay?”
I could just imagine the shit running through his head right now. Sure, I had his number. But I’d never actually called it before, out of the blue.
I had two reasons for calling him now, though.
One, to do some digging on Ronan, obviously.
And two… well, two was a little less fun, so I decided to get it over with.
“Hi, Flynn. Before you get any ideas, I’m not calling to stalk you like some crazy man-eater.”
“Oh…”
I rolled