But when he set it back down, he pulled her onto his lap. She was sprawled across him, and he loved the feel of her long legs and lean body snuggled up against him.

"This isn't comfortable," she said. Because she was Allison.

"Be quiet," he told her. He tangled his hand into her hair. He enjoyed seeing it down, loose.

Her eyes slipped closed. "That feels so good."

He brushed his lips over her ear. "You feel good."

She shifted so her legs were on either side of his. Marco almost groaned when he felt the press of her inner thighs against his c.o.c.k. He was fully erect, and he knew he wasn't going to get any satisfaction, but he was willing to torture himself. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. Instead he kissed Allison, using his free hand to grip her waist, and hold her close against him.

"Mmm," she said. "You taste like coffee."

She tasted like whisky. It made him want a drink. So instead he just gripped her head harder, and feasted on her mouth, taking her over and over again with hard, driving kisses that had them both breathing hard and mussing the h.e.l.l out of each other's hair. Allison ground her hips against his and he swallowed hard, pulling back. He needed a second. But that was all she gave him. She gripped his hair, bent over, and bit his bottom lip. That gave him a serious kick of l.u.s.t. Holy h.e.l.l, she was hot. Marco yanked the front of her sweater down and sucked the swell of her breast rising from her bra.

"I could kiss you for hours," he murmured.

"Yes, please." Allison's head fell back.

He could see gooseb.u.mps rising on her skin, and it gave him a very base masculine satisfaction. She was genuinely aroused and he had done that. Him. The real Marco. His phone buzzed again in his pocket. He pulled it out and powered it off, annoyed that it kept giving him notifications. He saw it was his manager texting him, but he didn't bother to read them. He didn't want to be babysat tonight. He wanted to fall off the grid, right here in Allison's dim and under-decorated apartment, where real people lived.

"Don't you need to answer that?" she asked, before sinking her teeth lightly into his earlobe. The girl liked to bite, and he wasn't about to object. It might mean he could bite her back.

"f.u.c.k him," he said, pushing her back so he could access her b.r.e.a.s.t.s again. He peeled her bra down so he could see her nipples. They were tight, a dusky raspberry color. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were small, high, appropriate for her frame. He could fit one entirely in his mouth, and he salivated at the thought. But then he decided to tease them both and cover them back up.

Allison gave a sound of protest. But he smirked and reached over for his coffee and took a sip. "Want your coffee?"

She fell off him to the side. "Sure. But I may regret this tomorrow."

"The whisky or me?"

"Both." It was too dark with the lamp off to really see her expression, but she was eyeing him.

"Regret nothing that hurts no one." He kissed her softly. "Now maybe I should go and let you sleep."

"You're leaving? That's it?"

He could hear the implication in her voice. She hadn't expected him to walk after just making out. "One base at a time, remember?"

"I didn't enjoy tenth grade. I don't think I'm going to enjoy this either."

Marco grinned to himself. He hauled himself out of the chair and bent over, putting his hands on either side of her. He kissed her slowly, languidly, invading her with his tongue. "Be patient. It will be worth the wait."

"You'd better not be blowing smoke up my a.s.s. If something is going up my a.s.s, it better be more exciting than vapors. That's all I'm saying."

That made him laugh out loud. "You're a piece of work." He reached out and gave her a quick kiss. "Dinner tomorrow?"

"As long as you're buying."

"I can do that. I'll text you."

"Goodnight." She stood up after he straightened up and away from the chair. "I had fun tonight, before the whole lost ticket thing, so thanks. I mean, it's not every day you win the lottery then lose it again, and you made it decidedly less heinous."

"You're welcome. Would you rather win a night with a rock star or win the lottery?" he asked, mimicking what her friend had asked her earlier.

She bit her lip. "Sorry, kid, I'm still going lottery. But you're a close second."

"Thanks." He wouldn't have expected her to say anything else. It was an Allison answer, and if he were in her shoes, it was the choice he'd make as well.

But he found himself hoping that one day she'd change her answer.

It was a crazy thought, but it was in his head before he could stop it.

At the door, he cupped her cheek. "Goodnight."

With the hallway light, he could clearly see the puzzled expression on her face. She didn't know what to make of him. h.e.l.l, he didn't either.

"Night."

The door closed, and he waited for the click of her lock. Then he turned and powered his phone back on to check his messages. He paused only two feet from her door as he listened to his manager's angry and panicked voicemail, followed by two texts. "s.h.i.t."

His drummer had been arrested. They were canceling the morning recording session and were flying back to California. Rubbing his forehead, he took the stairs. Nothing was ever easy when you were dealing with both crazy talent and addictions. It seemed Robert had gotten busted for DUI. For about the ninth time. But he couldn't judge. He'd been there himself, and those guys had stood behind him. This just wasn't exactly in his plans.

His manager wanted to find a temporary replacement to lay down some tracks back in LA then come back to New York the following week. But Marco didn't want to leave New York at all. He raised his hand for a taxi when he got to the street. Inside the cab he texted Allison.

I have to go to LA tomorrow. Want to come with me for a few days?

It was an impulsive request. She'd think he was insane.

How could I do that?

Private plane. My house. Think of it as a vacation before the big job hunt. Two days.

He looked out the window, back at her building. He felt drawn to her, and he didn't just mean s.e.xually. He didn't want a few days to go by, then when he got back to New York, she blew him off. And he didn't believe in good luck, like he'd told her. He made his own luck.

Umm. Okay?

That made him feel immensely satisfied.

Pack a bikini.

Marco sat back and made some phone calls.

The night had turned out better than expected, and tomorrow promised to be even better.

Jamie stared at Allison blankly. "What? Nothing that you just said made sense."

Allison ignored the lunch she had ordered. She was too tense to eat. She'd texted Jamie and begged her to meet her on her lunch hour. "I lost my lottery ticket. I called the commission and there's nothing they can do. So I'm broke again."

"That's horrible. Absolutely horrible." Jamie looked like she was going to cry. Allison knew the feeling. "Baby, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help? Do you need me to return some of those clothes for you? Or go apartment hunting?"

"Considering I quit my job too, in a video to Chantel last night with Marco Lucky, I'm going to need you to both take a look at my resume and let me crash with you and Jonathon for a few weeks after the first of the month."

"Sure, of course, you can stay as long as you'd like." Jamie took a huge sip of her wine. "Good Lord, I can't believe this."

"Believe it." Allison had woken up after only a couple of hours of s.h.i.tty sleep feeling oddly pragmatic. That money hadn't been hers. It was a stroke of dumb luck to win it and a stroke of bad luck to lose it. But she felt galvanized, ready to take charge. It was like having the pot of gold yanked away from her made her want to grab it for real this time. It own it. Deserve it. It was terrifying to face an uncertain future, but then maybe she had needed the jolt. She'd been sleepwalking through life. While mumbling complaints.

She casually dropped the other half of what she needed to tell Jamie. "Also, I'm going to California today with Marco for a few days." There it was. The part that might even be whackier than winning and losing the lottery in the course of eighteen hours.

"What? Are you crazy?" A piece of arugula fell off Jamie's fork as she dangled it in midair. She gawked at Allison, eyes ginormous.

"Probably." Allison had been surprised at how little she had hesitated when he had so casually invited her to stay with him for a few days. Like it was no big deal. So she'd told herself it wasn't a big deal. "But I need to get out of New York for a minute. This is perfect."

Now Jamie downed half her gla.s.s of wine. "But... but... he's famous," she whispered, glancing around like he might pop up from behind the server station. "I'm going to pa.s.s out. Where are you staying?"

"His house." Ironic, she realized, since she had been weirded out at the idea of going to his apartment in New York. But that would have felt real. Going to California was like a fantasy, an escape from reality. The vacation he'd suggested before she got down to the business of her real life. It was only two days. It wasn't like she was going to Cali Girl in forty-eight hours.

Jamie coughed. "His house. Good Lord. Did you knock boots with Marco Lucky last night? OMG. Was it amazing?" Her cheeks were red and she looked gleefully scandalized.

Allison laughed. "No, I did not. We made out. Which was hot. And can you please stop calling him by his full name? It's weird. He's just Marco."

"To you! Not to the rest of the free world." Jamie waved her napkin in front of her face. "You don't understand how crazy this is."

"I'm pretty sure I do." Allison leaned in closer, not wanting anyone to mysteriously overhear her. Not that anyone in this place was even paying any attention to them. One of the beauties of New York was obscurity in a crowd. Yet given that s.p.a.ce was always at a premium, the couple at the table next to them was literally twelve inches away from them. "I mean, I was a total jerk to him."

"Guys like b.i.t.c.hes. It's a fact."

That was flattering. "Are you saying I'm a b.i.t.c.h?" When Jamie's face fell in alarm, Allison laughed. "I'm kidding. I know I'm a b.i.t.c.h. I mean, I was to Marco. But he said he likes my honesty. That I'm not sucking up to him. Then we went to the top of the Empire State Building and on a carriage ride, and I don't know... we talked. He's actually really... nice." It was a lame word, but she wasn't sure if there was a better one for it. "I think he's lonely."

"How is a rock star lonely?"

"Jams, you of all people should get it. You're always feeling sorry for people. Though I'm not suggesting you feel sorry for a guy who is filthy rich and hugely successful, but I am saying that there is something to people in his position not being able to trust that anyone truly cares about them. Everyone has an angle and wants to use him. He didn't say that, exactly, but it's the sense I get. I think being with me makes him feel normal."

Jamie wiped her mouth and nodded, her auburn curls bouncing. "I get that. But Al, be careful. This is flirting with disaster. It's like a day at Disneyland. You can visit but you can't stay."

"I know that." She knew that more firmly than anything else. She didn't belong in that world. "I have no intention of being any man's arm candy or flavor of the month. Nor do I want to be a card-carrying member of the d.i.c.k-sucking harem. But I need the escape, I really do. I need to regroup and think, and what better way to do that than lying beside a pool in Southern California? It's raining outside and it's fifty degrees here."

"True." Jamie bit her lip and glanced nervously at the table next to them. "Don't tell Jonathon this, pinky swear, but I am so jealous of you right now. I had a mad crush on Marco Lucky in college."

Allison laughed. "I know, sweetie, I was there. And you're doing the last-name thing again."

"He'll always be Marco Lucky to me."

"He'll always be the guy who let me cry on his shoulder when I lost my lottery ticket." The memory made her throat tighten. There was no ego there. She would have expected Marco to be impatient and uninterested in her problems. But he'd hung in there until the bitter end, giving her words of encouragement and telling her private memories.

"Aw," Jamie sighed. "That's so romantic. Oh my G.o.d, what if Marco Lucky falls in love with you? I'll die."

The thought made Allison's b.u.t.t cheeks make a fist. That was the last thing she needed to be fantasizing about. It would ruin her. "You just told me not to fall for him! That I can't stay in his world, and now you're going googly-eyed about him being in love with me. You make no sense."

"That was before I saw your face go all soft when you were talking about how he comforted you."

"Ew." Allison stabbed her own salad. "My face did no such thing."

Though she had to admit, she felt a little heat rising in her cheeks.

"So this is how the other half lives," Allison said to Marco as she settled down onto the seat next to him. "This plane is like a limo in the sky. It's crazy."

Marco couldn't argue with her. "It is kind of crazy, isn't it?" As was the fact that she was with him.

He couldn't stop grinning, even when he tried, and he was well aware his manager had made note of it. The p.r.i.c.k had given him a couple of head shakes and eye rolls. What irritated Marco was that Harry seemed to think he'd fallen off the wagon, both with alcohol and women, and he'd done neither. He wanted to let him know that without coming right out and saying it. He figured if he poked, Allison would say it for him.

"Want to join the mile-high club?" he asked her with a wink.

"I shudder to think how many women have been penetrated on this plane. I will not be joining their ranks, but thanks for the well-thought-out seduction attempt in the presence of four other people. It was cla.s.sy, but I still have to decline."

She didn't disappoint. That was for sure. He laughed. Harry and the other guys stared in stunned silence for a second, then they started laughing too. He felt ridiculously proud, like he'd done something extraordinary by convincing her to come to LA with him. But he'd never expected her to say yes, that was for d.a.m.n sure, and he was thrilled she had.

This was also throwing a wrench into his plans to take it nice and slow s.e.xually with Allison. How had he thought inviting her to stay at his house was going to allow him to ease into intimacy with her? Dumba.s.s. He was just a dumba.s.s. It was like he kept finding new ways to torment himself and Allison was just the latest.

"And here I thought you were adventurous," he told her.

"If adventurous is a code name for easy, then you've come to the wrong woman." She gave him a smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But you already knew that. You're just showing off for your friends. I understand."

Aidan, who had been messing around on his tablet, tossed it aside and raised an eyebrow at Allison. "Do you have a sister? Because I'm pretty sure my life would head in a better direction if I had a ballbuster like you riding me. Literally." He winked.

"Hey," Marco said. "Lay off."

It was too territorial. He knew it instantly. Everyone else knew it as well. There was an momentary silence then Aidan was grinning. Harry was frowning. Sharon, his a.s.sistant, couldn't stop her jaw from dropping. Then she realized, clapped it shut, and hid her smile behind her hand. Aidan laughed. Harry looked like he had indigestion.

"So that's how it is, huh?" Aidan said. "Well, well, well. Never took you for a sucker, Marco my man, but have fun with it." Then he asked Sharon, "Can you get me a drink? I have a headache. Vodka tonic, please, you're a sweetheart."

"Try aspirin," Harry said as Sharon stood up and went over to the mini-fridge on the plane. "We haven't even taken off yet."

"Thanks, Dad." Aidan eagerly took the drink from Sharon and downed half of it. He gripped the gla.s.s on his knee and leaned back with a sigh.

Marco remembered that feeling well. With alcohol, it wasn't as insidious as drug addiction. There wasn't that deep, obvious craving. It was subtle, the "I could use a drink," that fooled you into thinking you weren't an alcoholic, didn't need it, weren't addicted. That you could stop at any time. But that sigh that Aidan gave as he took his first sip of liquor for the day was no different than the sigh of the heroin addict plunging his needle in. Marco reminded himself of that feeling, and allowed the craving to wash all over him now. Instead of shoving it away, he faced it, embraced it. He wanted a drink too, but only because life's important moments seemed to socially demand booze, and today felt different. Important. He was eager. He recognized the antic.i.p.ation as similar to the way he felt before he went on a songwriting binge. It was a creative energy that itched and buzzed. It made his leg bounce. His shoulders tense.

But this time, it also made his c.o.c.k hard. Because he wasn't antic.i.p.ating picking up a guitar and letting his thoughts pour out in music. He was ready to have Allison. To pick her up and pour into her. It had him edgy, but in the best way possible.

And everyone knew it. At least everyone but Allison. He wasn't sure what she was thinking. Her face was fairly guarded, her sarcasm obviously front and center. "Can I get you anything?" he asked her. "Water or a drink? There are snacks in the fridge too. Grapes and cheese."

"Unless my lottery ticket is in that fridge, I'm good for now, thanks."

He knew she was still upset about that, and frankly, if it had been him, he would have been on a bender. But she was holding it together pretty d.a.m.n good. "I think odds are higher for you buying a new ticket and winning a second time, than you opening that fridge and finding your ticket in there."

She made a face. "I don't think I'm buying any more tickets." She glanced around the small plane, saw everyone else was distracted, and murmured, "Thanks for the invite. I appreciate it. You've been seriously a stand-up guy."

"You're welcome." That actually meant a lot to him. More than it should.