Rock Star by Roslyn Hardy Holcomb Read Free Book Online Page A

pull any punches. She was a real person, with no agenda of her own. She didn’t stroke his ego because she wanted an entrée into the business; she only laughed at his jokes if they were genuinely funny. And she didn’t hesitate to smack him around when he needed it. He laughed to himself when he recalled an incident earlier that week.
    They’d been re-merchandising the store, moving the stock around to keep it fresh and interesting. Callie didn’t want customers to become too familiar with the location of their favorite items. If they had to search a little, they might find new things to buy. Better yet, they might actually have to ask, and that would give Callie an opportunity to make recommendations. Bryan shook his head; he’d never realized that there was so much strategy involved in retail. In the midst of this marketing sleight of hand, he had complained about the insipid music she had playing in the store. She’d responded with a pained look and a direct jab. “Look Bryan, I know that to you if it’s not about death, mayhem, eviscerated fowl, and oozing wounds, it’s not music. But the rest of us aren’t looking for music to murder by.” He couldn’t help laughing. She wasn’t the first to say that his music was a bit dark. Storm Crow was frequently compared to Alice in Chains. But no one else had ever put it in those terms or dared say it to his face.
    Watching her make business transactions had become one of the highlights of his life. She’d sit perched on her little office chair, the telephone held to her ear by her shoulder as she perused the lengthy printout sheets the publishers sent. He’d sit there breathlessly waiting for that inevitable moment when she would place her pencil behind her ear. Somehow that little gesture was guaranteed to send his sexual impulses into overdrive. Damn, who would’ve thought he could get so turned on by a woman in business mode? He even enjoyed the little tsking sound she made whenever he did something particularly annoying. That was her most frequent reaction to his seeming inability to keep up with any of his personal belongings, especially his keys. Once when they were again delayed by the need to search for them, she’d made a wry comment that in his “other life” he probably had “people” to do that for him. He hadn’t said anything, too embarrassed to admit that indeed he did. Before meeting Callie, he’d never questioned the self-indulgence of having assistants do for him what he as a grown man should be doing for himself. It wasn’t as if he were to the manor born. He’d spent a considerable amount of time living on the streets. But the seductive lifestyle could grow on a person rather quickly.
    He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met such a genuine person. Since their trip, he felt bound even more closely to Callie, whereas she seemed to only tolerate him. He wondered cynically if she would dismiss him entirely if he didn’t spend a fortune in her bookstore each week. He chuckled softly at the thought, causing Callie to raise her brow quizzically as if to inquire what he found so amusing. Bryan shook his head negatively, deciding to keep the source of his amusement to himself.
    On this particular day, they’d been fortunate enough to find Granny’s open and were enjoying another excellent bowl of soup.
    “Okay, I’ve told you about me. When are you going to tell me your story?” Bryan was surprised that he was so curious about her background. Normally women revealed far more information than he was interested in. But he had learned in the couple of months that he had known Callie, that she was nothing like the women he commonly encountered.
    “What do you mean? I don’t have a story.” Callie furrowed her brow, puzzled by his question.
    “Come on, Callie, everybody has a story. I’ve told you all about my angst-ridden existence and my self-destructive bent. Now it’s only fair that you tell me how you came to be a rising