Blake's Choice Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Blake’s Choice

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-339-0

  ©Copyright Louisa Masters 2013

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright May 2013

  Edited by Sue Meadows

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2013 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 44 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 7 pages.

  BLAKE’S CHOICE

  Louisa Masters

  Sex with a rock god? Yes please! The day after the night before has never been so good…

  Amanda Coyle is sure she knows the man sitting in the corner. She’s seen him every week, and he’s very familiar…not to mention incredibly hot. If only she could be sure it’s not the Most Wanted list that she knows him from.

  Former rock god Blake Hawley would do anything to avoid the limelight…although he’s willing to make an exception when a sexy blonde asks him to fuck her.

  Can Blake and Mandy work through the trauma in his past to build a trusting relationship? Or is it just hot sex between them?

  Dedication

  This one’s for Kim, who loves Blake almost as much as I do. Thanks for being my shoulder, sweetie.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmark mentioned in this work of fiction:

  America’s Most Wanted: Twentieth Television

  Chapter One

  Mandy sat at the bar, fiddling with her beer bottle and staring at the man in the corner. He was there nearly every time she was, which was every Friday lately. Since her best friend Karen had hooked up with Daniel, they came here a lot.

  The guy in the corner looked familiar, and not just because she saw him every week. Had she met him before? Mandy was pretty sure she’d remember if she had—the guy was smoking hot. Tawny blond hair, just long enough to tell that it curled. Teal-coloured eyes highlighted a face that had surely been carved from granite—no man should have cheekbones that high. The eyes had to be contact lenses, though. Eyes that colour just couldn’t be natural. He was almost pretty, except for the piercings. Three in each ear, two in his left eyebrow, one in his nose. And the tattoos on both arms and the side of his neck. She was pretty sure he’d have more under his shirt.

  “Stop staring.” Toni’s amused voice cut into Mandy’s thoughts.

  She turned to face forward on her stool and found her favourite bartender propped against the other side of the bar, grinning. Her hot pink tank top matched her hair and revealed a heavily tattooed torso.

  “I’m not staring,” Mandy defended herself, even as heat rose in her cheeks. Toni’s smirk told her she wasn’t fooling anyone. “Okay, so maybe I looked for a little longer than is polite, but you have to admit he’s hot.”

  “He is,” Toni agreed, but didn’t say anything else.

  Mandy raised an eyebrow. “He’s here a lot,” she prompted. Toni was normally verbose, but for some reason she was being close-mouthed. “What’s his name?”

  Toni took Mandy’s beer bottle—which was not quite empty—and replaced it with a shot of tequila, a salt shaker and a piece of lime. “How should I know?”

  Mandy surveyed her new drink, lips pursed. She didn’t cope very well with tequila, but Daniel was driving, so… First salt, then the burn of tequila, followed by the sharp, sour tang of lime. Mandy gasped then sucked vigorously on the lime, glaring at Toni. “What was that for? You know I always regret tequila.” Toni shrugged, and Mandy circled the conversation back to where she wanted it. “You know all the regulars. I refuse to believe you don’t know who he is.”

  “You can refuse all you want.” Toni cracked a small smile, and refilled Mandy’s shot glass.

  “Are you trying to get me drunk?” Mandy eyed the glass again then looked around for Karen and Daniel. They were dancing, although it looked more like foreplay to her. They always danced like that.

  “Absolutely,” Toni deadpanned. “I’m going to get you blind drunk and then take advantage of you in the store room.” Since Toni’s current boyfriend was six-foot-five, two hundred plus pounds and covered on all visible skin with tattoos—the complete opposite of Mandy—she snorted. And reached for the tequila.

  Several shots later, she had a definite buzz on. The room rocked gently, which she knew from past experience meant she was swaying on her stool. She’d been wheedling Toni on and off about Mr Hot-Stuff in the corner, but Toni kept distracting her with tequila. Not that she was hard to distract.

  “Whew.” Karen climbed onto the stool next to Mandy. “I’d kill for a drink.” She looked at Mandy, then at the empty glass and the salt shaker. “Not tequila, though.”

  Daniel leaned on the bar on Karen’s other side. “No tequila. You got it, baby. Beer, Toni?” The words were barely out of his mouth before Toni was sliding two bottles of beer across the bar. Daniel lifted his to his sexy mouth for a long swallow. “So”—he put the bottle back on the bar—“what have you been up to?” He glanced at Mandy’s glass. “Aside from getting plastered.”

  “I’m trying to make Toni tell me who Mr Hot-Stuff is,” Mandy announced, gesturing broadly towards the back corner. Daniel didn’t even look, and Karen’s mouth tightened. “She won’t tell. Do you know, Daniel?” Daniel was a regular, had been for years. That was why Mandy and Karen came to the bar so often, when it really wasn’t the kind of place they usually frequented.

  “No.” Daniel didn’t elaborate. Mandy pouted.

  “Oh, come on. You must have run into him in the men’s room or something, sometime.”

  Karen laughed. “Mandy, men aren’t like us. They don’t put on lipstick in the men’s room—they pee. Conversation is pretty limited.”

  Daniel grunted. “Try non-existent.”

  Mandy waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever. I still think you know him. And I want to know who he is. No man has the right to be so good-looking. He’s gotta be an actor, or a rock star…” She trailed off, memory striking, and twisted on her stool to look at the man again. “Hey, I know who he is! That’s—ow!” She glared at Toni, who’d pinched her arm so hard a bruise was already forming. “What was that for?”

  “Karen, Mandy’s not feeling well.” Toni spoke flatly, her gaze hard. Mandy turned to look at Daniel, whose face was like stone.

  “What—”

  “Come on, sweetie, let’s go to the bathroom, splash some water on your face.” Karen practically yanked her off her stool and dragged her through the crowd so fast Mandy nearly fell twice.

  Finally, finally, Karen shoved o
pen the door to the ladies’ room and towed her inside. The door swung shut and they were alone.

  “What the hell is that all about!” Mandy sputtered, stalking over to the basin and turning on the cold water. She stuck her wrists under the flow and glanced at Karen in the mirror. “Well?”

  Karen sucked in a deep breath and rubbed her nape. “You said you knew who he was.”

  “And?”

  “And, who do you think he is?”

  “Blake Hawley.”

  Karen grimaced. “Yeah. I figured you’d guessed right.”

  Mandy turned off the water and grabbed a paper towel. “So, why all the secrecy?”

  “Why do you think?”

  Mandy leaned against the basin, the tequila still fogging her brain. “Um…” Blake Hawley hadn’t made any public appearances in years, not since one of his fans had committed suicide during a concert. Still, a rock star was a rock star, no matter how long it had been since his last record. “He doesn’t want any publicity?”

  “He doesn’t want any publicity,” Karen affirmed. “You know what happened, right?”

  Mandy tossed the paper towel into the trash. “Kind of. He was doing a show and a fan shot himself, right?”

  “It’s a bit more complicated. A local radio station was giving away tickets to the show, and callers had to say why they were Blake’s ‘biggest fan’. There was this one caller who tried to win the tickets and missed out. He mugged someone outside the arena and stole their ticket so he could get in. Somehow he sneaked a gun through security, and about halfway through the show he got to the stage. Security was just about to grab him when he screamed that he was Blake’s biggest fan and he’d die to prove it. Then he shot himself.”

  Mandy shuddered.

  “Blake didn’t even get a chance to try and talk him out of it,” Karen continued. “He just had to watch while someone committed suicide in the name of fan-dom. For him. It broke him up pretty bad. He finished that tour, and then…that was it. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  Mandy’s head bobbed in sympathy, then stopped. Wait… “You know him?”

  Karen shrugged. “He’s a friend of Daniel’s. I’ve met him a few times.” She met Mandy’s gaze squarely. “Everyone here—all the regulars—respect his privacy. I trust you to respect it too, Mandy.”

  Like she’d deliberately put someone in a difficult situation. Karen should know better. “Of course.” She tried not to let Karen hear how offended she was.

  “I’m sorry.” Karen laid a hand on Mandy’s arm. “I don’t think you’d go sell a story to the press, or anything. It’s just that this is really important.”

  “I know.” Mandy straightened, and her head spun. Damn tequila.

  “Whoa, you really are sloshed, aren’t you?” The serious note was gone from Karen’s voice, replaced by a trace of laughter.

  “It’s all Toni’s fault. She knows tequila is bad for me.” Mandy leaned on her friend. Karen snorted.

  “Yeah, blame Toni. I’m sure she forced you to drink all that tequila.” Supporting Mandy with one arm, Karen opened the door and ushered her into the hall. They went back into the bar area, and the music washed over Mandy, revitalising her. Straightening, she raised her arms and twirled, distantly hearing Karen’s laughter, and Toni’s whistle and shouted encouragement. She whirled again, her head spinning, then came to a sudden halt.

  Mr Hot-Stuff wasn’t a serial killer, or a freak. In fact, he was a friend of Daniel’s, who she trusted not to befriend creeps. And he was hot. And she was just tipsy enough to take advantage of her lowered inhibitions.

  She was halfway to the back corner before her friends realised where she was going, she could tell by their sudden calls. But Mandy was on a mission. She was going to get laid by a rock star.

  * * * *

  Someone slid into the seat across from him and Blake looked up from his drink, into the eyes of the pretty woman with the sexy laugh who’d spent the last hour getting trashed.

  “Hi. I’m Amanda Coyle.” She didn’t offer her hand, which was just as well, because he wouldn’t have taken it. Occasionally, despite his best efforts to be anonymous, people still recognised him, and groupie sex had stopped appealing to him years ago.

  “Hi.” He spoke flatly and looked away, hoping she’d get the hint and leave him alone.

  “Well, aren’t you antisocial?” That erotic chuckle was even more potent up close. “That’s okay. I can talk enough for both of us.”

  Despite himself, he grinned. She was cute. And classy. And she didn’t belong in this place. If her friend wasn’t living with Daniel, she’d be in some yuppy bar somewhere with a stockbroker.

  “There, you smiled. I knew you could!” She grinned at him, pride in her alleged achievement on her face. “Now, buy me a drink and I’ll see if I can make you laugh.”

  “Thanks, but no, thanks.” Blake kept his face straight. As entertaining as he found her, he wasn’t looking for any entanglements. Women like her always came with baggage.

  She pouted, and his gaze zoomed in on her mouth, plump and pink, lipstick long since worn away. Maybe baggage wasn’t so bad.

  “Why not? You don’t have to laugh, if you really don’t want to, but I must warn you I’ll try my best to make you.”

  Blake studied her. Her loose blonde hair flowed over her shoulders, and her grey eyes were warm. She wore jeans and a shirt, conservative for the usual crowd in there, but her mouth and that incredibly arousing laugh were pure sex.

  He turned to the bar and lifted a hand to catch Toni’s attention. She raised an eyebrow and he held up two fingers. A moment later, one of the constantly changing waitresses brought over two beers.

  “Toni says no more tequila for you,” the brunette told Amanda.

  “Hey! She was the one who gave it to me in the first place!” The sultry pink mouth turned down in a frown, and Blake resisted the urge to lean across the table and bite it.

  The waitress shrugged. “Just passing on the message.” She sauntered back to the bar.

  Amanda lifted the bottle to her lips and took a swig. When she set it down again, her mouth was damp and shiny. He picked up his bottle, hand trembling slightly. How long had it been since he’d been with a woman? Amanda licked her lips.

  Too long.

  “Tell me, Amanda, why are you here?”

  She smiled. “Mandy. Amanda is only for work, and my grandmother. And I’m here because this place is better than the crappy yuppy places Karen used to drag me to.”

  Huh. Maybe not the stockbroker type, after all. “No, I meant why are you here”—he gestured to the table—“now.”

  “Oh.” She took another sip of her drink, then pursed her lips and studied it. “You know, beer just doesn’t taste right after tequila. Um, why am I here? Because you’re hot and I want you to fuck me.” She lifted her bottle for another swallow, then grimaced.

  Blake couldn’t get his mouth to work. She wanted…? “You want me to fuck you.”

  She set the bottle back on the table and grinned at him. “Yep. I would have asked ages ago, because you’re seriously hot, but I didn’t know if you were a serial killer. You do look kind of scary, right? Plus, you seemed familiar, and I was afraid I’d seen you on America’s Most Wanted, or something.”

  She made sense, in a weird, drunken kind of way. “So now that you know I’m not a serial killer, you can have sex with me?”

  “Yep. And I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but now I know who you are, I want you even more.”

  Ah. “Who I am?”

  She rolled her eyes. “After Karen dragged me out of here, she said I’m forbidden to say your name aloud. So let’s just say I know who you are, or rather, what you used to do, and leave it there.”

  “Do you often proposition men in my former profession?” God, he hoped not. Watching her mouth move was more arousing than some of the blow jobs he’d had, and his dick was hard and throbbing.

  “You’re my first. But I w
anted you before I knew what you used to do. Mostly because you’re so hot. That’s what I was calling you—Mr Hot-Stuff.”

  Blake smiled. “Mr Hot-Stuff, huh?”

  “Yep. Because you certainly are.” She met his gaze, her grey eyes steady despite the amount of alcohol she’d consumed. “So, what do you say? Are we gonna fuck?”

  Yes! His balls tightened just thinking about it, but his conscience screamed at him, and regretfully he shook his head.

  She looked like he’d slapped her.

  “Not while you’re drunk. But I tell you what”—he leaned across the table, meeting her gaze steadily—“when you’re sober, if you still want to do this, I’m all yours.” He reached out and grabbed the waitress’ arm as she walked by. “Lend me your pen.” He took Mandy’s hand, and scrawled his cell number on her palm. “Just call. Anytime. But make sure you’re sober, because I don’t have that much willpower.” He handed the pen back to the waitress, then planted a hard, open-mouthed kiss on Mandy’s delicious mouth.

  “See ya.” He tossed a twenty on the table and strode away, deliberately not looking back.

  Chapter Two

  Mandy rolled over and groaned, tugging the covers up over her head. Thank God it was Saturday. She was going to kill Toni for giving her that tequila. No, first she was going to kill Karen and Daniel, because without them she wouldn’t have gone to the bar last night.

  Her head throbbed and she squeezed her eyes closed tighter. Nope, not working. She’d have to get up for some aspirin and water—and a really hot shower. Sighing, she rubbed a hand over her face and opened her eyes.

  What the hell? Had she written herself a reminder on her hand? Mandy squinted at the numbers on her palm, and memory flooded back.