"Thanks, mum. Want to wipe my arse too?"

"No, I'll leave that for Gio," she said sweetly.

She gazed down the table at Byrne. Jesus, did she have to cut up his meat too? He looked so forlorn and lost. He reached for his fork and began to eat. The doctor had said his blood sugars were screwy as well. He wasn't healthy, and he had just turned thirty. Frankly, she was worried. Maybe too much so.

"I don't mean to nag," she said in a gentler voice. "Believe it or not, there are people concerned about you."

"Worried I won't make them money, you mean," he snapped.

"Well, yes. Byrne, there are dozens and dozens of people relying on you for their welfare and their income. You have to keep it together."

"Jaysus, put more bloody pressure on me, why don't you?"

"I don't mean to," she replied softly.

Byrne glared down the table at her. Yikes, he looked pissed off. He grumbled something about not needing her pity, then shoveled food into his mouth.

"So it's really over with your girlfriend," she ventured.

He slammed his fork on the table. "I gave her VD, cheated on her dozens of times, and lied. What do you think?" Byrne picked up his fork and began to eat again. "I'll live. I'll get over it, I always do."

Yes, there was more going on here than his so-called broken heart, and damn her eyes for being a curious kitty, but she wanted to know everything about this man. Yeah, she was remaining real detached here.

"So sluts are also off the menu." She cringed. Did she just say that?

"I guess I won't be fucking you then," he snarled.

Carly gasped aloud in shock but came right back. "Not with that diseased cock of yours!" Oh, God, her mouth was working before her brain again. "Look Byrne… I—"

"Kick a man while he's down. Thanks for reminding me I'm a messed up male whore."

She glanced up. His expression showed his pain, and she felt like shit. "You brought up the VD first! You wouldn't have caught VD if you… you… Damn. It's none of my business. I don't care, Byrne. You infected the beautiful princess and there are consequences. Do you want the health department coming after you for wantonly spreading a disease? God knows how many you've infected. You don't even know their names. Sounds like a male whore to me."

She'd done it again. She stuffed turkey in her mouth—anything to shut herself up. Why was he stirring such emotions in her, enough that she blurted whatever came to her mind? She had more control than this.

They ate quietly for the next ten minutes. Carly's insides were quaking. What possessed her to lecture him on his moral behavior? If he wanted to screw a brown paper bag it wasn't her concern. She was too involved with this man and his messed up life. She broke her own rules to stay removed, detached, and professional. She didn't dare ask Nigel to reassign her as this was a plum assignment. Nigel liked to use his own people as managers for his acts; the codicil was written in the contracts. The good of the record company came first. It wasn't exactly fair, but Nigel did treat all his people well. No one dreamed Byrne would become so famous. Capitol Records and some of the other bigger labels were already sniffing around him. Carly's job was to see to it Byrne was happy and stayed with Cascade, and she was screwing it up.

A snarl, almost animal-like in tone, came from the end of the table. Byrne leapt out of his chair, grabbed her arm, and pulled her against the wall. "Stop. I can see the pity on your face. Don't you ever feel pity for me," he saidangrily.

She shoved at his chest. "I don't, you Irish shit! Back off."

He stood way too close, and his nearness affected her. Byrne's potent presence surrounded her and made her body react, damn him. She could feel the anger and annoyance come off him in waves. Her hand brushed his rock hard chest. No wonder he went shirtless on stage. She ached to touch him again, but she pulled her hand away.

He leaned in close. "Why is your hair red and black? Couldn't make up your mind?"

"You're a fine one to talk," she mumbled.

"I like changing my hair color and style. It's like trying on a new persona." He laughed huskily.

"Yeah, you know all about that." She snorted.

"Come on—tell me the real color of your hair and I'll tell you mine."

"Enough games. Let me go. You're acting drunk." But she knew he wasn't. She had touched a nerve, and he gave her the full arrogant 'Rock God' façade.

He grabbed her wrists in one hand and held them against the wall above her head. Byrne's eyes scanned down her body. She was angry now, and her chest heaved in irritation. He looked down between her legs. "Love, I know a way I can find out your true hair color."

"Jesus, your brother was right: You are a pig. Going to take me against the wall like you do those groupie whores? Just try it and I'll have Gio tear you to pieces."

Byrne began to laugh. "You know, Montgomery, I haven't been this entertained in ages."

"Let me go or I'll whistle for him."

He released her and backed away. "Just having some fun—"

"I'll show you fun." Carly reached down and grabbed his balls in a vise grip capable of cracking walnuts. Holy shit… her fingers brushed past quite the erection. He was turned on? He was a pig! She squeezed tighter because, damn him, she was turned on as well. This man had her confused six ways from Sunday, and she didn't need this. Byrne cried out with a definite girly scream.

"Don't you ever do that to me again, back me against a wall and make lewd comments. You treat me with respect, or I will have these nailed to a wall. I don't take any abuse off any man, verbal or otherwise—got it?"

"Aye," he croaked an octave higher than he usually spoke.

She let him go and walked away with a slight smile on her face. She could have brought him to his knees very easily; however, she'd held back. The rumors were true. Carly heard the talk of Byrne's prowess. All right, damn him. She heard he could strap his cock to his leg. Her anger quickly dissipated. She wished to hell she was a manager to Carole King or someone less trouble. The last week had certainly not been dull. She was annoyed but also intrigued.

Brogan ached. Not only where she had grabbed him but in his raging, off-the-charts arousal. This woman interested him like no other in a long time, not even Abbie. His hand moved down over the front of his jeans. He was going to be sore there in more ways than one. To him, women and sex were a game. Her frank talk irritated him, but he was more fascinated than anything else. He wanted to see her reaction to his arrogant self. Carly stood up to him, and he admired her. Hell, he liked it. Her balls were bigger than his. Far out.

Chapter Five

Before the show in Newark and the concert dates in Canada, Brogan and the tour took a brief break. Cascade Records rented a small house in a secluded area of Cape Cod. The crew was at a nearby hotel while Brogan, Carly, and Gio relaxed at the seaside home. Brogan was sober for a week. All the damned drugs he was on certainly took the edge off, but the demon was still in there snarling silently.

Brogan walked on the small stretch of beach at dusk. He glanced at the house. Carly was inside discussing the upcoming concerts with Gio, working out security and other details that bored the shite out of him. They hadn't talked much since the turkey dinner. As one side-effect of their interaction, he had been in a constant state of arousal ever since she crushed his bollocks. Actually, he derived some amusement from watching her try to keep their dealings removed and professional. Aye, she couldn't hide the flush of her cheeks or the direction of her gaze. Carly constantly scanned his body with her intense stare, usually stopping the longest on his crotch. He made no effort to hide his interest. She no doubt had been aware of his stiff cock when she held his balls between her fingers.