Melanie started the car while Gabe struggled to form coherent thoughts. They were pulling out of the parking garage before he managed to fire a rational synapse.

“Um, where to?” she asked.

He gave her the name of the hotel and she searched for it on the car’s navigation system. It began to spout directions in a robotic voice.

“You have until we get to the hotel to get to know me,” he said. “It isn’t far. You’d better get started.”

“How often do you do this kind of thing?”

“What kind of thing?”

“Have women you don’t know drive you to your hotel room?”

“Less often than you think.”

Her full lips pursed skeptically, she lifted an eyebrow at him, before returning her attention to the road. It was mostly deserted at this hour, which meant the short trip to the hotel would be especially quick. A good thing. If he caught the scent of her fruity shampoo one more time, he was going to unzip his pants and show her the effect she had on him, indecent exposure laws be damned.

“I usually take them to the tour bus,” he said, forcing his mind to keep up with the thread of their conversation. “It’s easier to get rid of them that way.”

She laughed. “At least you’re honest.”

“How often do you do this kind of thing?” he countered.

“Before or after I graduated college?”

There was a distinction? “After?”

“Not often.”

“Before?”

“Whenever I felt like it,” she said. “Which wasn’t often.”

“So why are you doing this now?”

“I figure I’m entitled to a little slutty fun every now and then.”

She turned her head to smile at him. She had a great smile. It made his heart swell in his chest. And other things swell in his pants.

“And I really want to see that tattoo on your hip.”

He didn’t understand why a tattoo on his hip was such a big deal to her. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just his astrological sign. “I think your idea of who I am and who I really am are entirely different things.”

“Duh. That’s why I wanted to get to know you first,” she said.

Maybe he was the one who was nervous. He didn’t know if she’d be impressed with the real him. Usually the rock star thing did all his work for him. Gabe ran his knuckles down her bare arm, and she shuddered. “And that’s why I’m in such a hurry to occupy you with other things.”

She glanced at him and asked, “So, do you have family?”

Well that topic definitely pulled the brakes on his libido. “Yeah. Doesn’t everyone?”

“I suppose most do. Are they huge fans of your music?”

He laughed. “Not especially. Hate isn’t a strong enough word to describe how they feel about my music. I had a strict, religious upbringing. My family is very conservative.”

“You don’t talk to your family then?”

“I didn’t say that. They don’t necessarily approve of how I live or the career I chose, but they love me. As long as I grow my hair out to cover the ink on my head before Thanksgiving, we get along just fine.” And while he mostly did whatever he wanted to do, he respected his parents enough not to flaunt his liberal attitudes in their home. As far as he was concerned, it was a fair compromise. His family’s comfort meant more to him than showing off his tattoos. He hadn’t discovered his wild side until he’d gone off to college. He didn’t have ink out of rebellion against his upbringing but because he’d legitimately liked all the designs enough to have them permanently etched on his skin. To him tattoos were art, not a statement.

Melanie pulled into the hotel drive and stopped the car near a waiting valet. Gabe tensed with anticipation.

“The ink looks good on you though,” she said, her eyes fixed on his scalp. “I’m not sure why.”

He knew exactly why. “Forbidden fruit.”

“So you think the reason I want you so bad is because my father would shoot you on sight?”

“That sounds about right,” he said. And he had no issue with exploiting her daddy issues.

“Well, seeing as he’d shoot any man I hooked up with before a wedding band strangled my finger, don’t think you’re so special.”

The door opened, and the valet offered Melanie a hand out of the car. She exchanged her keys for a valet ticket while Gabe mentally cursed himself for abandoning his manners and not being the one to open her door. When had he started sucking at impressing women? Around the time a sexy accountant had careened into his chest and didn’t even have the decency to be hot and bothered the instant he’d touched her.

“Charge that to my room,” Gabe said to the valet as he hurried around the car to claim Melanie’s elbow.

“Yes, Mr. Banner.”

Melanie managed to look impressed. “He knows you by name?”

“I’m a VIP,” he said, “it’s his job to kiss my ass.”

Unable to keep his hands to himself for another minute, Gabe draped an arm across Melanie’s lower back and drew her warmth against his side. She allowed him to lead her toward the grand entrance of the hotel, but apparently she was still in get-to-know-you mode.

“So if your parents were against you becoming a musician—”

“I didn’t say that. They were never against me becoming a musician. It’s the type of music I chose that they don’t appreciate. They wouldn’t have minded if I’d become a gospel singer.” He winked at her.

“So how’d you become a drummer? It’s not exactly a church choir instrument.”

“I was the percussion geek in marching band; I’m not talented enough to play a real instrument.”

“Are you making that up?” she asked as they entered the lobby through a revolving door. She didn’t even gawk at the opulence. She was too busy sticking her cute nose into his business. And he was batting zero with dazzling her.

“Why would I make up embarrassing shit? If I was going to lie, I’d make myself out to be cool and irresistible, don’t you think?”

She tilted her head, appraising him as if he were some column of numbers that didn’t add up. He wondered if her limited view of the world served her well in Kansas. She seemed to like putting everything in a neat little box. And he was pretty sure she was still desperately searching for the right box to store him in.

As it was well after midnight, the lobby was empty except for the desk clerk smiling to himself indulgently as he pretended not to watch them. The elevator stood waiting.

“Tell me something else that makes you less cool,” Melanie said.

“Gee, Mel, do you have all night? Don’t you know that most rock stars began life as outcasts who didn’t want to be weird but found a bunch of kindred outcasts to make music with? A few of us somehow manage to make a living off it. Most of us have to supplement our music habit by delivering pizzas.”

“But being an outcast makes you normal.”

He shook his head in confusion. “If you say so.”

“What were you like in high school?”

He groaned inwardly and considered making shit up. He’d been a walking disaster. “Braces.”

“That explains your perfect smile.”

She thought his smile was perfect? Maybe all those painful visits to the orthodontist had been worth it.

“What else?” she pressed.

“Tall and skinny.” Was she trying to talk herself out of sleeping with him or what?

She lifted the hem of his shirt to flash his belly. “Not an ounce of fat on those abs, but not skinny. Fit. And you are tall. I suppose that’s a benefit for a drummer.”

“I was so not attractive, Mel, I didn’t touch my first boob until I was twenty.”

“And how many boobs have you touched since?”

He grinned. “I don’t grope and tell.”

Inside the elevator, Gabe retrieved his room card from his wallet, glad that they’d checked in early and his belongings were already up in his room. He swiped the card over a panel to access the penthouse. The band had rented out the entire upper floor for the night. He had hoped something like that would turn Melanie’s head, yet she insisted on asking him to share secrets about his less than head-turning past.