Read Online The Complete Groupie Trilogy by Ginger Voight - Free Book Online

to be there?”
    He grinned as he looked from my mouth to my eyes, then back again. “She’s got an early call,” he murmured.
    “Aw, too bad,” I murmured in return, my eyes on that sexy pout. “Who is going to kiss you at midnight on your birthday?”
    “Hopefully the person that I’ve wanted to kiss since I met her eight months ago,” he whispered, which made my heart topple all the way down to my feet.
    “You’re a charmer, Mr. Carnevale,” I said, stunned he’d remember down to the month. “Why should I believe any of the pretty things you say?”
    He pulled me closer. “Because you can feel it,” he said.
    He was right. I totally could.
    I gulped hard as I disentangled myself from his arms before we did something in public that was probably illegal. “Then I look forward to midnight,” I said as I spun out of the room with a smile.
    Iris dragged me away from the studio around the time that Jacob headed back to Jasper’s office. She claimed that we had some major shopping to do for the gig that night. At this rate I was going to have to buy another suitcase to take home with me, or at the very least keep a closet at Iris’s house for any upcoming New York trips – which, depending on what happened at mid night – might be a possibility.
    I tried to temper my excitement over having Vanni all to myself that evening with the knowledge that he would still be “publicly” taken by Lourdes long afterwards. But if Jacob was right, and I wanted so to believe that he was, it was a convenient relationship for publicity, not somethi ng that was organic or natural.
    It was a business arrangement that Jasper seemed to be orchestrating with a heavy hand, along with everything else in Vanni’s musical career.
    Vanni had expressed his interest for me way before Lourdes hit the scene, which I kept telling myself that had to count for something. I was entitled just one night, if nothing else.
    If Iris had known what I was thinking as we wandered from shop to shop she’d have dropped dead in shock. I was a fresh-faced newb from Tennessee who had spent her fair share of Sunday mornings in church, and Saturday night watching old Cary Grant movies on TV. I believed not only in the sanctity of a relationship but the magical promise of true love.
    The cynical 25-year-old in me understood that was just as much an illusion as celebrity relationships built for publicity. And that was the chick who was casting her vote for a night of hot sex with someone who was destined to be a big star.
    A chance for hot passionate sex with a man who could make my knees buckle with just a glance, or his trademark smirk? Any girl would do the same in my place, and probably very soon would. Besides, you’re only young once. And this was the time in my life to sow those wild oats. Somehow I suspected they didn’t come any wilder than Giovanni Carnevale.
    Iris insisted I get another pair of high heeled boots, but I insisted only on sheer black top and cropped leather jacket. I had but one real present for the birthday boy, and I thought it only appropriate he could see how pretty it was packaged before he got the privilege of unwrapping it.
    That night I pulled out the cobalt blue satin corset and cinched myself up before adding the sheer lace top that dipped low in front of my overflowing cleavage. I wore black jeans that hugged the generous swell of my derrière, something that Vanni had hinted he couldn’t wait to get both hands around in one of his more suggestive emails. It was actually written as a limerick that made me laugh out loud when I read it. It was an ode to my curves he had written naked, according to what he told me with a grin I could hear over the phone.
    This was the intellectual foreplay that had me primed and ready to pounce him the minute I stepped off the plane.
    Jacob was right. There was no law against having one passionate night with the man. It didn’t have to mean love. Who even knew if there was such a