Butch waved her toward the comfortable-looking leather sofa situated along one side of the bus and spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Send them out.” He stomped off the bus, leaving Toni standing there feeling like she’d walked into an episode of The Twilight Zone just as the big plot twist was about to reveal itself. The bus was really a spaceship and the band members were actually flesh-eating aliens who’d set her up so they’d have something tasty to snack on while they journeyed to their next destination. And you thought you were following your dreams, you fool! It was pretty obvious that Butch didn’t appreciate her unexpected appearance. She doubted the band would be any more amicable about her interruption to their lives. Unless they really were flesh-eating space aliens.

Butch’s disdain wasn’t going to stop her, however. This assignment was important to her. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. She was here to work and to prove her naysayer of an editor wrong. Toni wasn’t waiting to start until after Butch decided what to do with her. She was starting now.

Resolve strengthened, Toni headed off the bus to stand next to Butch and observe the members of the band as they made their way from the back door of the stadium to the tour bus.

Butch started when he noticed her standing next to him. She straightened her shoulders and pushed her glasses up her nose. She wasn’t going to let some big dude intimidate her. She’d be plenty intimidated when she met the four famous rock stars who were headed in her direction. Make that five rock stars. She’d completely forgotten they’d hired a new rhythm guitarist, Reagan Elliot, to tour with them for the year. A group of yellow-T-shirt-bedecked escorts walked several steps behind the four tattooed hunks and the exuberant woman in their midst.

“This is so much fun,” Reagan shouted, hugging the nearest member of her band, who happened to be lead guitarist Dare Mills. Or maybe her choice of huggee hadn’t been accidental. The man was exquisite. What woman wouldn’t want to hug him? Or more? Toni’s face flamed as ideas about what more might entail flitted through her thoughts. Not that she’d actually ever experienced more. But she knew what it involved. Somewhat.

Dare squeezed Reagan and added an affectionate kiss to the top of her head. “You did great tonight,” he said. “The fans already adore you. Aren’t you glad you loosened up a little?”

“I’ve been loose my entire life,” she said, which garnered a round of sniggering from her new bandmates. Reagan paused midstride and beamed at the black and red tour bus parked just behind Exodus End’s silver and blue bus. “Sinners haven’t left yet. I’m riding with them tonight!” She hugged each member of her band, grabbed one hunk of a security guard by the front of his T-shirt, and raced toward the other bus with the chuckling man in tow.

“Your brother is one lucky guy,” Steve Aimes, the band’s drummer, said, watching Reagan bound up the bus steps of the band that was co-headlining with them on the tour.

“So is her bodyguard,” Dare said with a grin.

Toni perked up. She knew Dare’s brother was the rhythm guitarist for Sinners, but she hadn’t heard that Trey Mills was involved with Reagan Elliot. And what was this about her bodyguard? Was Reagan involved with two men? At the same time? Because who in their right mind would cheat on a man as luscious as Trey Mills? Toni bit her lip, reminding herself that she wasn’t here to dig up scandals—and what a scandal that would be—but to create a book that made readers feel that they knew the real men behind Exodus End’s rock star personas. And she was pretty sure these guys were used to behaving a certain way for the cameras. Surely it would take a while for them to trust her enough to be themselves in front of her. That was fine by her. It wouldn’t exactly be a tragedy if she had to spend extra time getting to know them.

Lead singer Maximillian Richardson paused just outside the bus. He had dark brown hair cut in a trendy style, with messy locks on top that begged to be clutched as he used his strong lips on parts below a woman’s neck. Max’s striking hazel eyes made Toni’s toes curl as he looked her up and down. He shifted his gaze to Butch and lifted his eyebrows at him.

“I thought we said to keep the bus empty tonight. We have to head out immediately.”

“She’s the one writing a book about the band,” Butch said. “Sam said he told you about it months ago.”

“Book? What fucking book?” Max’s face fell and then his eyes widened with apparent remembrance. “Shit,” he said, raking a hand through his hair and messing it even more. “I forgot all about it.”

“What’s going on?” Dare asked.

All four of the men were staring at Toni as if she were the flesh-eating space alien. She pasted a hopefully friendly smile on her face and pushed her glasses up her nose before thrusting her hand toward Dare for an introductory shake. Not that she wasn’t already shaking. She totally was.

“I’m Toni Nichols. The publisher hired me to write the book.”

And perhaps there was a little nepotism at work in the arrangement, but so what.

Dare didn’t seem to notice her hand. He was too busy glaring at Max. After an awkward moment, she dropped her hand and clutched the strap of her messenger bag. What would she do if they refused to let her on the bus? Or if they wouldn’t answer her blasted editor’s carefully prepared interview questions? Or if she got so turned on that she started shedding her clothes in an attempt to seduce one of them? Or all of them . . . She stuck one finger under her turtleneck collar and tugged. Was it hot out here or was it just them? Goodness. What was up with her hormones tonight?

Damn Julian for putting those kinds of thoughts in her head.

“How come this is the first I’ve heard of this?” Steve asked. His long brown hair—stopping just below his collarbones—hung damp against his bare skin. Toni was uncomfortably aware of the drummer’s lack of shirt and his display of abs. Dear lord, the man had a freaking eight-pack. He was close enough that Toni could smell the clean soap scent of a recent shower on him. She was suddenly picturing him in the shower, water cascading over his long lean body. Naked and wet. And . . . and . . . naked. She gave herself a mental shake. She had not expected to react to them this way. Yes, she’d known they were all attractive, but she wasn’t the type of woman who lusted after men. Much. Well, maybe she lusted after them, but they never lusted after her in return.

“Shit, guys,” Max said. “I have a lot on my mind. Just recovered from my surgery. Had to judge the guitarist contest to find my temporary replacement. Prepare for the new tour.”

“Get a manicure,” bassist Logan Schmidt added.

“And your hair highlighted,” Steve said, fluttering his eyelashes.

Max ignored their taunting. “It’s no wonder I forgot about it.” He released a frustrated sigh and tilted his head back to stare at the dark sky. “Well, the contract’s been signed. We’ll have to make the best of this.”

“We also have a pact that says no women ride on the bus between shows,” Dare said.

“Yeah, all the riding must take place while the bus is stationary,” Steve said, making thrusting motions with his slim hips.

Toni scowled with confusion. Riding while stationary was an oxymoron. Her eyes widened when she suddenly realized what he meant by riding. Not that any of them would want to ride her, but uh, yeah, she understood his sexual connotation. And only several seconds late.

Toni looked from one man to the next. She supposed she could offer to follow the bus in a rental car, but how would she really get that insider’s point of view if she didn’t spend time with them in their element?

“Reagan is a woman,” Max pointed out.

“That’s different. She’s part of the band.”