Page 16 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

“You still working?”

I glance up to see Sam slouched against the counter, a bottle of water in his hand.

“Somebody has to,” I reply, my tone sharper than necessary.

He raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of water. “You ever take a break?”

“Do you ever take anything seriously?”

He chuckles, setting the bottle down. “Touché.”

For a moment, neither of us speaks, each trying to hide our simmering attraction. The silence stretching tautly.

“Emily,” he says finally, his voice quieter than usual, “I probably shouldn’t tell you, but—you’re good at this. You’re a better manager than Derrick ever was.”

I look up, caught off guard by his tone. “Thank you, I think?” I say, my voice wary.

He shrugs, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something that makes my chest tighten.

“Why are you always like this?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

“Like what?”

“Like, you’re afraid to let anyone see you have a serious side?”

He blinks, clearly not expecting that. “Maybe I’m just a complicated guy,” he says after a moment, his tone light but his expression anything but.

“Possibly,” I say, my gaze locking on his. “Or maybe you just like keeping people at arm’s length.”

His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “And what about you, Boss Lady? You keep people at arm’s length, too, don’t you?”

I bristle at the accusation, but before I can respond, he steps closer, and suddenly the small space feels electric. His cologne wraps around me—that familiar blend of sandalwood and pure male that haunts my dreams. When his gaze drops to my lips, heat pools low in my belly. I can feel the warmth radiating from his body, see the slight stubble on his jaw that I once felt scraping against my neck, my breasts, my inner thighs—

"Emily," he breathes, and the way he says my name sends shivers down my spine. He's close enough now that I can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, close enough that one small movement would bring his lips to mine. My body remembers exactly how those lips felt, trailing fire across my skin, and I have to grip the counter to keep from reaching for him.

And then, just as his lips are inches from mine, the door swings open.

“Hey, Sam, you—” Nate stops mid-sentence, his eyes darting between us. “Uh, am I interrupting something?”

“No,” I say quickly, stepping back. “We were just... talking.”

Sam’s lips twist into a grin, but there’s a hint of frustration in his eyes as he turns to Nate. “What’s up?”

Nate mumbles something about his drums, and the two disappear, leaving me alone in the kitchenette with my heart still racing.

I sink into the nearest chair, pressing a hand to my throat as I try to calm down.

Sam Ryder. That man will be the death of me.

I try to focus on the itinerary in front of me, but my mind keeps replaying the moment before Nate walked in. The way Sam looked at me and leaned in like he was about to kiss me. My skin still tingles from the intensity of it all, and I don’t know whether to be furious or disappointed that it didn’t happen.

I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t notice the voices at first. It’s only when I hear my name that I freeze, my ears straining to pick up the conversation coming from the other room.

“You want to tell me what your problem is with Emily?” Cass’s voice is low but firm, the tone he uses when he’s not in the mood for games.

I stand up quietly, moving closer to the door separating the kitchenette from the office area. I know I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but curiosity gets the better of me.

“I don’t have a problem with her,” Sam says, his tone defensive.

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