Page 20 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

The tabloids gave me far more credit than I deserved as far as getting action. The one and only time I’d truly gone off book, I’d been spared the attention. I preferred to keep it that way. As it was, the minute I stood next to a man, the internet exploded with news about my next new love affair.

If only they knew just how much of a drought I was in.

I stepped off the curb bordering the tented off area and headed back to the beach. The night sky was even more amazing than the sunset had been. The stars seemed close enough to touch. I headed for the little egg-like swings hung around the grounds of the hotel. There were enough twinkle lights wrapped around the heavy-duty iron arms bolted into the palm trees for me to feel safe alone.

Revelry was all good in theory, but we’d been touring hard for months. A week away from the stage and the fans was just what I needed to get my head on straight. I gave the swing a little extra push and tucked my feet under my dress.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been swinging when my hip buzzed.

Having a seamstress at my beck and call meant I could add pockets to nearly any dress. Even a brides

maid dress I wouldn’t be wearing again.

I was tempted to ignore the buzz. Very few people had my true phone number, the one I carried for emergencies. When my cell stopped and started up again, I sighed and pulled it out.

Logan King.

Well, hell. It was the wrong time of year for him to be calling me. I was used to the annual call for his end of summer shindig for charity. I hadn’t been able to swing that this year with the tour.

I was tempted to let it go to voicemail. I was worn down to the bone. Obviously, since I was seeing phantom versions of Alexander Nash at a wedding reception he’d never attend. Then again, he had shown up at Mal and Elle’s engagement party.

Another time I’d been sure I was seeing ghosts. Another time I’d had a few drinks to try to chase them away.

On the fourth buzz, I lifted the phone. “Hey, Logan.”

“Oh, thank God. I was afraid I didn’t have your latest number.” His rumbling voice came through the line crystal clear although he was thousands of miles away in upstate New York.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“What? It could happen.”

“You know you have the right number.”

“Did I catch you at a bad time?”

I wasn’t sure just how much in the know Logan was. Warning Sign wasn’t exactly on his radar, but he was sneaky. He seemed to have his finger in many pies. Especially lately since he’d slowed down on touring to play producer more and more.

“I’m at a wedding reception for West Reynolds and his new bride.”

“Well, shit.”

“What do you need?”

“Look, I know you said you couldn’t fit the Christmas album into your schedule this year.”

I’d turned down the album along with the charity shindig. They were for beyond worthy causes, but I’d been tapped out when I said no.

Tapped out then. Tapped out now. An ongoing theme lately.

“This tour’s a beast. You saw my schedule—” I broke off and sighed. The picture suddenly became a hell of a lot clearer. “Of course, you saw my schedule, and you know I don’t have a show for a week.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re killing me.”

“Do you have plans?”

“Yes.”

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