Love, Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

doelike eyes. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked hopefully.
    â€œNo, I guess I’d better get backstage,” he said, dismissing her.
    She seemed about to say something else when a knock sounded on the dressing-room door. The door opened and Dakota’s drummer, Burt, took a step into the room, then stopped, blocking the entrance. “There’s a lady out here to see you, Dakota.”
    â€œWho is it?” Dakota asked, expecting a fan.
    â€œThe lady says her name is Chelsea Stone,” Burt replied then winked. “And if you ask me, I believe her. She’s got some legs.”
    â€œThat’s no lady,” Dakota grumbled, his stomach sinking. Now what?
    â€œWhat does she want?” Melinda asked, not bothering to keep the proprietary tone from her voice.
    â€œTell her I’m not here,” Dakota instructed.
    â€œTell her yourself,” Chelsea said, as she quickly ducked under Burt’s arm and forced her way into the dressing room.
    â€œWhat do you want?” Dakota demanded.
    His uncharacteristic rudeness got Melinda’s attention, and she turned to study Chelsea more closely.
    â€œIt’s nice to see you, too,” Chelsea said, sweetly sarcastic and bold as hell.
    â€œI’m getting ready to go onstage,” Dakota said, losing control. He jammed his white Stetson on his head and glared at her from beneath its brim.
    â€œThis won’t take long,” Chelsea assured him.
    â€œI’m waiting,” he said, tapping his boot.
    â€œI want to talk to you in private,” she said.
    â€œWe’ve been over this before. We have nothing to say to one another, remember?”
    â€œI’m not leaving until we talk,” Chelsea declared, walking past him and sitting down on the love seat beside his dressing table.
    She glanced at a very interested Burt lounging at the door, and then pointedly at Melinda, who stood practically at Dakota’s side. “In private.”
    Dakota clenched his teeth, stared at the ceiling for a long minute, then sighed. With a shrug, he nodded for Burt and Melinda to leave them alone.
    â€œYou want me to call Security?” Melinda whispered, turning her back to Chelsea.
    â€œHe’s a big boy. I bet he can take care of himself,” Chelsea retorted.
    Dakota nodded and Melinda followed Burt out the door, closing it behind her reluctantly.
    â€œYou must be crazy, lady,” Dakota said, taking off his hat and tossing it on the chair.
    She might be crazy, but she sure looked good, he thought. Sitting there on the love seat, she looked as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
    Her pose was unladylike, of course.
    She had on a very short, silky, print dress. Her knees were spread wide apart and the dress pooled between thighs sheathed in black tights. She did indeed have “some legs,” as Burt had pointed out.
    Her feet were encased in red-and-black cowboy boots. He was certain they were the ones she’d bought the day she’d smashed his car. It would be just like Chelsea Stone to wear them simply to annoy him.
    His eyes traveled back up her legs past the red-and-white dress to the pièce de résistance—a black leather motorcycle jacket. It had enough zippers to make James Dean hard.
    â€œYou’re not very good at taking a hint, are you?” he said.
    She got up and stood toe to toe with him. Sticking her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she said, “I’d be willing to pay… a lot… for you to write a song for me.”
    He wanted to hurt her for the attraction he felt.
    Lowering his lips to hers, he gave her a punishing kiss. It was insultingly thorough, blatantly sexual, and deliberately cruel. “What’d you have in mind?”
    He expected her to slap him, and was surprised by the sudden tears that gave her eyes a glassy sheen. Just as quickly, they were banished and her tough facade was back in place.
    He felt like a