Love Notes (Rocked by Love #1) Read online

  LOVE NOTES

  SUSAN SCOTT SHELLEY

  Copyright © 2016 Susan Scott Shelley

  ISBN-13: 978-1-9444220-02-0

  [email protected]

  http://www.susanscottshelley.com

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  For years, The Fury's lead guitarist, Zander Rostov, has been living a rock star's dream - sold out shows, platinum albums, and legions of fans. But lately, his band is constantly fighting, he's exhausted and frustrated, and he can't shake the feeling that he should be doing something more with his life. With eight more weeks of touring, he needs to figure out how to deal with the constant tension. He needs a distraction, and finds it in the form of the band's curvy new tour manager.

  Jayne Warren is looking for a distraction. After losing her beloved dog to cancer, she needs a way to channel her grief and rebuild her empty bank account. When she's asked to help out her friend's band as tour manager, it seems to be a perfect solution, until she meets the band. She hadn't planned on the sizzling chemistry and instant connection with Zander. Getting involved isn't a smart idea, especially when she seems to bring out the worst in one of his band mates. She's dealt with high-tension bands before, but never like this, and never at her.

  If she stays, she could be responsible for breaking up one of rock's biggest bands, but if she leaves, walking away from Zander would break her heart.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person or use proper retail channels to lend a copy. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  DEDICATION

  For Jacqueline Jayne.

  Here's to friendship!

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THANK YOU!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER TITLES YOU MAY ENJOY

  CHAPTER ONE

  Home.

  Finally.

  Zander Rostov drove through the gates of his estate and coasted up the long drive, relieved to be surrounded by the hush of his own paradise. The exhaustion of the last few months on tour weighed heavy on his bones. Too much time cooped up with his band, too much in-fighting, and too many late nights and early rises left him itching for solitude and hours of sound sleep.

  Beside him, his English Bulldog snored. What a life—eat, sleep, play, repeat. Lucky dog. But for the next two weeks, he'd have a taste of it, too. Two weeks to breathe before the chaos began all over again. A small piece of freedom, enough to tease him before being thrown back into six weeks of shows and travel. After ten years of near-constant recording and touring, he needed a break. A long break—from the band, from the grind, and from the lingering frustration he hadn't been able to shake for months.

  When he parked the car, Shredder roused with a pitiful grumble, his overbite pushing his bottom lip into a pout.

  "We're home, buddy." Zander rubbed the dog's brown and white wrinkled head. He took his pet on the road with him as often as he could. Seven-years-old and content to laze around, his bulldog made the perfect travel companion. He opened the passenger door and Shredder bounded off across the lawn, protected by the eight-foot-high walls surrounding the Spanish Mission-style home, his just-private-enough retreat from the world.

  A breeze rustled the palm trees. The beginning of April in Santa Monica was warmer than the end of March in New York City had been. The east coast tour had ended in the city that never sleeps and then eight hours later, he'd parted ways with his band mates who never seemed to get along anymore. The break wasn't really a break, with the few press events and the party for the fans lined up.

  Stretching, he breathed in deep and fought down the urge to throw the bags back in the car, grab the dog, and just take off. Years of saying yes to everything had drained him dry but he couldn't disappoint the fans. The success of the tour and the new album were more important than his need to recharge, even if the last few months had been the most difficult of the band's career.

  He left the dog in the garden and entered the house. Cool air and silence greeted him. He set down his guitar case in the living room, then dropped his luggage on the floor outside the laundry room. He'd unpack before his housekeeper arrived. Settling the dog with food and water came first. Man's best friend deserved a reward after hours of travel. The next part of the tour would be easier—all in California, and several local shows. When he needed to be away for a few days, his housekeeper would watch Shredder or the dog would stay with his parents.

  The ping of an email alert made him reach for his phone. The sender—Oliver Somers from Excite Records—could wait long enough for him to have a cold one. He let Shredder in, then cracked open the beer and downed half the contents. Oliver's email started off with the usual pseudo-friendly nonsense, then listed the upcoming tour dates. At the very end, the son-of-a-bitch had tacked on an additional two weeks' worth of shows.

  Fuck!

  He crushed the can in his fist. Beer sloshed over his hand and splashed the kitchen floor. Shredder trotted over and licked at the puddle.

  "Damn it, no." He grabbed the dog's collar and tugged him away.

  Two weeks… The burn of anger singed his muscles. He slammed his fist onto the counter, then hurled the can into the sink. Metal clattered and Shredder whimpered and hid under the table.

  Fuming, he wiped the spill and then sat on the floor, staring at the dog. He needed to hold it together. He rubbed his palms over his face and forced his muscles to relax. Calling for the dog, he reached for his phone.

  He'd left his sister an hour ago and Irisa hadn't said a word about more tour dates. As band manager, the discussion of more tour dates should have come from her. Which meant Oliver had once again overstepped his authority. His muscles tightened again. With the dog curled onto his legs, he dialed Irisa's number.

  It rang several times before her voice came on the line. "What's up? You should be sleeping."

  "Check your email. Excite added a few more venues to the tour."

  "What?" Her voice hardened. "Oliver knows that's supposed to be cleared with me first."

  "I'm not happy about it either. We're fucking exhausted and they go and add in five more shows to the end of the tour, with maybe more to come. We'll be working through the whole summer at this rate."

  "I'll make it clear that he can't add on any more. I'll start looking at hotels." She sounded as worn out as he felt. He knew she didn't like Oliver any more than he did. The jerk had used
her to get his job—something Zander couldn't forget.

  He rubbed Shredder's head. "I can help."

  "I'll handle it. Don't worry. Get some sleep. I'll call you when I've figured it out."

  Sleep was out of the question. He hurled dirty clothes into the washer, then reached for the only thing that ever settled him—his guitar. Time didn't exist when he played. Nothing existed except the music. He heard about it often enough from his sister, so he set his phone on the table, where he'd be sure to see her call.

  He didn't know how long he'd been playing when the phone's ringing jarred him out of his relaxed mood. He saw texts from his band mates, probably ticked off about the added dates. Ignoring them, he answered his sister's call.

  "Travel and hotels are all set. Listen, I've hired my friend Jayne to help me out during the tour. I've told you about her, she's a tour manager, and really, after how you guys have been, I need someone to keep me sane."

  His sister did so much for them, allowing them to focus on the music and the fans. "Hey, if you want to bring someone along, that's fine. Whatever you need."

  "She wants to meet you all first before she'll take the job. I know you're tired, but please? A quick meeting this afternoon. Four o'clock, at the coffee shop by your house."

  "Fine. Did you call the guys?"

  "Yes, they'll be there."

  "Then I'll see you at four." He clicked off.

  Hmmm. Jayne Warren.

  He'd never met Jayne, but from pictures he'd seen at his sister's place and from all Irisa had said about her friend, he felt like he knew her already. Jayne Warren, a gorgeous blonde with eyes nearly the same shade of blue as his favorite guitar.

  When he walked into the coffee shop a few hours later, his band mates Luke, Landry, and Brendan, sat at a table in the back of the nearly empty room.

  Luke raised his brow. "You live the closest but you're the last one here."

  He shrugged. "So? I'm here now."

  "We only got here a few minutes ago anyway, Thompson." Landry shook his head at Luke, then sipped his coffee.

  "Whatever. I don't understand why we had to meet this girl today. This could've waited a few days."

  "Maybe it couldn't have waited. Where else did you need to be? My sister said it'll be quick, so it'll be quick. Calm the hell down." Zander turned at the sound of the door opening.

  Irisa walked in, followed by Jayne. She was far more beautiful than the pictures he'd seen.

  The classic oval face, high cheekbones with a hint of color, wide ocean-blue eyes fringed by thick lashes, sculpted brows, and full lips, petal pink and perfect for kissing. She was taller than his sister. A quick estimate suggested the top of her head would reach right under his chin if he held her close. She glided toward them—long limbs, delicate curves, and the graceful moves of a dancer. Rather than the platinum blonde hair she'd had in the photos, strawberry blonde locks tumbled over her shoulders in thick waves. His hands itched to sink in and test the weight.

  Her gaze met his. Something within him clicked, shifted, then settled.

  With the sexy bombshell along for the ride, maybe he'd survive the tour after all.

  Jayne's pulse fluttered as she held Zander's gaze. If she hadn't been heading his way, his warm hazel eyes alone would have pulled her toward him. When Irisa had asked her to come along for the California leg of the tour, and promised her double her usual salary, she hadn't thought about how attractive Zander was, or how her body responded on the rare occasions he took over lead vocals on a song. She hadn't thought past how the money would go a long way toward fixing her bank account, or how working might be just the thing to help her regroup after Pepper's death. She missed her dog more than anything.

  Now was not the time to dwell on that. She followed Irisa's path and came to a stop in front of one of rock's biggest bands. After spending years backstage and seeing rock stars at their best and worst, not much fazed her. But her heartbeat wouldn't calm.

  Zander stood next to the table. Up close, his eyes were more brown than green. A shadow of stubble highlighted his square jaw and chiseled cheekbones, and led to thick brown hair, short at the sides and back, just a bit longer on top, and messy enough for her to want to smooth the strands. His slightly crooked nose and muscular build behind worn jeans and a snug gray t-shirt suggested a boxer rather than a musician. Maybe the comparison wasn't quite so far-fetched. Both boxers and musicians were talented with their hands. Her gaze dropped to his wide palms and long fingers. A shiver zinged up her spine. Imaging his hands on her was too easy.

  "Let me introduce you, then we'll grab some coffee." Irisa touched her shoulder. "Guys, this is Jayne Warren."

  Dragging her gaze from Zander, Jayne smiled at the other men. "Hello."

  "This is Landry, our bassist." Irisa pointed to the guitarist with a shock of espresso-colored hair. Known to be the most stoic of the group, he nodded at her.

  "Brendan, our drummer." Sporting a beard and shaggy brown hair, the drummer was famous for his light gray eyes and easy sense of humor. He offered her an easy smile.

  "Luke, our lead singer." With the brooding good looks millions of women adored, he didn't react at all.

  "And my brother Zander, lead guitar." His brow quirked and his gaze roamed her face, settling for just a second too long on her lips. When she licked them, his eyes jumped back to hers.

  "It's nice to meet all of you. I've been a fan for years."

  "She's worked with Glitter Breeze, Bald Cracker, and Metro Danger." Irisa ticked the names off on her hand. "And I'm so happy to have her with us."

  "I'm looking forward to working with you guys."

  Luke stood, looming over her. "Look, sweetheart. This isn't going to be like handling one of those little bands. We're The Fury."

  Blinking, she stared at him while her mind worked on what to say. Her stomach felt like someone had punched her. After Irisa's pleading that she come on board, she didn't think she'd have to prove her merit, and she hadn't expected Luke's hostility.

  "Whoa, hold up there." Zander shifted closer, putting himself between her and the singer.

  Irisa shot Luke a glare. "She's good. I wouldn't have hired her if I didn't think she could handle it. Believe me, I need my job to be less stressful, not more."

  The image of her much smaller friend lecturing a man nearly a foot taller than her would have been comical, if the situation hadn't been so awkward. Irisa's support helped, but the rest of the bands she'd worked with, those on the same level as The Fury, would help more. Lifting her chin, Jayne looked him in the eye. "I've also worked with The Never Theory, Toxic Stand, and Vendetta. Feel free to contact them."

  Zander moved into her space, blocking her view of his grumbling band mate. He extended his hand. "Welcome aboard."

  "Really?" Her palm slid across his. A sizzle shot along her arm when the calloused pads of his fingers brushed her skin.

  "Really." His fingers closed around her hand and his eyes sparked with heat. Then he sent a glare at Luke and his hold tightened a fraction more.

  His scent—the leather jacket and some type of musky cologne made her head spin. She inhaled slow and deep to quiet her fluttering heartbeat. His hand still held hers. Swallowing hard, she loosened her hold.

  His lips formed a half smile and he slowly released her hand. The glittering in his eyes held a promise of hot kisses and wild nights. Her pulse thrummed in her ears.

  Dangerous.

  Absolutely dangerous.

  And she couldn't get involved. Clients were firmly in the off-limits category.

  "Come on, let's put in our order." Irisa bumped her elbow. "Or, do you know what you want? I'll get it."

  She glanced from Luke to Zander. They stood, squaring off with nearly identical intimidating expressions. Tension thickened the air. "I'll, ah, come with you."

  When they reached the counter, Irisa leaned in close. "I'm sorry. They're just tired. It's been a long tour."

  "Are you sure? Luke seems like he think
s I can't handle things."

  "He's really a nice guy, I promise." She bit her lip, then placed her order and waited for Jayne to do the same.

  Fifteen minutes earlier, she'd been brimming with excitement over the tour and working with Irisa. Now, as she lingered over adding cream and sugar to her coffee, her enthusiasm had vaporized and she struggled to compose herself.

  Heated words in low tones flew between Luke and Zander. Something about the band needing to be fully on board in making decisions, and Zander telling Luke to calm the hell down. Landry leaned toward the pair, and whatever he said earned a curt "Fuck you" from Luke.

  Jayne winced. Maybe she should just back out now. Artists could be temperamental but Luke's reaction confused her. Maybe he really was afraid she'd screw up. Luke's reaction aside, the guys were too tense. Yes, they had just finished months of touring and flown home on the red-eye, but still…

  Brendan met her gaze. He gestured to the empty seats at the table, one in between him and Landry, right across from where Luke stood. "Join us."

  That was the last place she wanted to be. "I think I better go."

  "No. Wait, please." Irisa strode past her, right into the line of fire. "Guys, come on now. We're all tired but we have two weeks to relax and sleep in our own beds. And there's plenty of days off where we'll be at home during the next two months. This should be easy compared to Europe, Canada, and the East Coast. Please, let's start this leg off on a good note."

  "Fine." Zander moved away from Luke and closer to Jayne. In a flash, his scowl vanished and that sexy smile reappeared. She answered that smile with one of her own.

  "I'm out." Luke tossed his cup into the trash and then slammed out of the shop.

  "I'm his ride home, you'd think he'd wait for me." Landry stood and shrugged into his leather jacket. "This was productive. See you guys on Tuesday."

  "What's Tuesday?" Jayne gripped her cup. Steam curled up in a ring. The rich coffee and hazelnut scents calmed her despite the tension with the band.