Sparks shot through my body the moment our skin touched. His hand was warm and large, enveloping mine like a sensualembrace.
I stared at our joined hands for a moment too long. I tried to pull back with a start, not wanting to embarrass myself. He held on for a brief second, not letting go. My heart jumped as I methiseyes.
Maybe I should have felt excited at that touch. Maybe any other girl would have. And I did feel excited, a bit. But another part of me felt overwhelmed. Disorientated. I was out of my depthswiththis.
He let go. I pulled back my still tingling hand and hid it behindmyback.
"You should think about it," August said as he slipped back intothelimo.
I fought to make my voice work. "Thinkaboutwhat?"
August gave me one last look, his blue eyes sharp. "What you were feeling when you took thatphotograph."
ChapterTwo
The parking lotwas filled with people rushing about, clipboards, boxes, or equipment in their hands. Three enormous buses, which I had to assume were tour buses for the band and crew, toweredoverme.
I gripped the handle of my rolling purple suitcase tight. Nerves turned my palms clammy. I didn't know where to go, or who to even ask. All the busy people had harried expressions on their faces. I couldn't make myselfinterruptthem.
I'd been picked up by another limo that morning and unceremoniously dropped off without further instruction. I was being thrown into thedeepend.
"So,didyou?"
I recognized that voice. August, still as achingly handsome as the night before at the art gallery, stoodbehindme.
"Did I what?" Iasked.
His lips tilted up into the slightest of smiles. "Thinkaboutit."
Oh. The photo. My feelings when Itookit.
"I can't remember,"Isaid.
"If you do remember, I'd liketoknow."
Such an odd thing to say. Such an odd thing to care about. Did it matter, howI'dfelt?
A bead of sweat rolled downmyback.
I hadn't stopped thinking about him all night. August Summers. Thinking about what he'd said, thinking about the curve of his lips as hesaidit.
He'd called my photopassionate.
Whenever I'd recalled his low, husky tones, shivers went through myspine.
This was unlike me. I'd never reacted this way before. Or, perhaps it was more accurate to say, nothing had ever caused me to feel this way before. The whole situation was entirely unfamiliar to me. Not just because I would be working with a rock star. It was because I would be working with a man who caused butterflies to nearly spew out of mystomach.
Was this how I was going to react around him the entire time? I didn't know if I wouldsurvive.
"It's good to see you here this morning,Cassie."
The sound of my name falling from such perfect lips had those butterflies acting upagain.
"I'm glad you showed up," August continued. "I wasn't sure youwould."
"Afraid I'dbackout?"
"Some would. Being on tour isn't the easiest or most glamorousofjobs."