Page 90 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

“Meh.” She dropped her head back onto the cushion and snapped her gum. “Boring.”

Jamie would play on any stage or even on a rock in the middle of a desert for hours on end but asking her to go in the studio required a lot of bribing.

I shamelessly used that to my advantage so she wouldn’t ask me for any more details.

“Any problems?”

“Nope. Smooth sailing. Oh, Teagan and Oz played this sick version of a cover today while we were messing around. Think we’re adding it as an audible.”

“Oh?” I bent at the waist to make sure my costume didn’t tug anywhere. Inwardly, I hissed at the sunburn I hadn’t quite healed from. Evidently, September sun didn’t make a difference when you spent the better part of a morning naked.

“I’m not finished,” Genie snapped.

I stood up straight and let her keep working on the zipper. “Sorry.”

She muttered something I didn’t catch, but it wasn’t worth getting her riled up.

“Yeah. It’s unreal. I know you know the words, so it’ll be cake.”

“I’m good with a change up. What is it?”

“‘Dream On.’”

I stumbled to the side, my ankle wobbling slightly in my five-inch heeled boots. “What?”

“Aerosmith.” Jamie sat up, swung her feet down with a thump, then propped her elbows on her knees. “You know, famous song. Killer piano solo and guitars.”

I swallowed at the flames licking up the middle of my spine. “Oh, I know the song.”

Jesus. The only reason my nipples didn’t pop through my skintight costume was the three layers of crystals hiding them.

I hadn’t played that song since him. Since an underground piano bar in New York.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be gorgeous. Even activated the rotation base on T’s piano for it. It’s gonna be crazy.”

“Right. I’m sure it’s stunning.”

“And you in that outfit? You’re going to have men and women popping boners across the arena.”

“Nice, Jame.”

Jamie stood, then tilted her head. “You’re being weird.”

“No, I’m not.” Even as I said it, I could hear the oddly distant tone in my voice.

“What’s the big deal? You love the song.”

“No problem here.” Except that I would probably spontaneously combust on stage.

“Sure about that?”

My heart raced at the memories bombarding me. They weren’t painful this time at least. Instead, they were tinged with the newness of having Nash back in my life. Especially when we had no real label for what was happening between us.

Fuck buddies? We were far too intense for that.

“Positive.” I fixed the collar of my catsuit, glad that it was covering up the brunt of my broiled pink status. “I’ll do a quick run-through during my warmup, but not a big deal.”

“Arms.”

---