Adam’s heart raced as he waited for Madison to answer her phone. Just the anticipation of hearing her voice thrilled him. He had no problem playing a guitar solo before fifteen thousand fans, but the prospect of speaking to one sweet woman made his palms sweat. Fucking pathetic. If his bandmates caught wind of his infatuation, they’d ridicule him nonstop. The entire group tended to gang up on whichever member happened to be jonesing over a woman, and Adam didn’t want to be their current target. That was Gabe’s role this week.
Standing near the back of the tour bus in the passageway between the bunks, Adam turned his back to the common area. Owen and Kellen had stolen Gabe’s cellphone when he’d fallen asleep in the recliner, and they were currently sending text messages to some chick Gabe had hooked up with the night before. Adam had no idea how Gabe could sleep with the amount of sniggering going on around him. Maybe all that drumming had permanently damaged his hearing.
“Now type: I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours,” Owen said as Kelly thumbed in his words. “Send it, dude.” More sniggering.
Adam was glad they were occupied with Gabe’s torture while he attempted to hide his current weakness.
“Hello,” Madison answered in Adam’s ear.
It had been too long since he’d last seen her. Just the sound of her voice made his jeans tight. “Hey, baby,” he said quietly.
“I can’t wait to see you after the concert,” she said.
“That’s why I’m calling.”
The disappointment in her voice made his heart twist. Damn, but this woman could reduce him to mush with a single syllable. He considered teasing her and making her think they wouldn’t be able to see each other that night, but if it had been the other way around and he’d thought she was breaking one of their far-too-infrequent dates, he’d be devastated.
“We should be in Dallas around five.” Adam glanced at the bunk where Shade was resting. Sole Regret’s nosy lead singer was probably asleep, but his curtain was closed, so there was no guarantee Adam’s conversation wouldn’t be overheard. He made sure to keep his voice down when he asked, “Do you want to meet for dinner before the concert?”
Now he couldn’t resist teasing her. “No? Why not?”
“Yes, Adam. I said yes. Yes!”
He chuckled. “Yes?”
“Y. E. S. Where? What time?” The fact that she was so excited split Adam’s face in a truly embarrassing grin. Thank God no one was paying attention. If anyone saw him smiling like a lottery jackpot winner, his gig was up.
“Italian. Five thirty. Meet me inside.” He didn’t have to tell her which restaurant. For almost a year, he’d been seeing Madison whenever Sole Regret’s tour bus blazed through Dallas. Their favorite place served fantastic breadsticks and had a family-style restroom with a sturdy lock. The hip-high vanity had come in handy for more than one quick reunion between Madison’s insatiable body and his.
“Hey, Adam!” Owen called from his seat on the sofa. “Who are you talking to? Your girlfriend?”
“No one would be stupid enough to date a man-whore like him,” Kellen said.
Adam scowled at the wall and covered his cellphone with his hand, hoping Madison hadn’t heard. “I have to go,” he said.
“I can’t wait to see you.”
“Madison?” He wasn’t ready to hang up yet.
“Will you make cookies?”
She laughed softly. “You don’t have to ask, Adam. I already made them.”
Her homemade gingersnaps were to die for, but he mostly loved the idea of her making them for him—especially since he pictured her baking in a frilly white apron, her black cowboy boots and nothing else. Her soft, round breasts would be fully exposed. When she turned and bent to slide the cookies in the oven, he’d have a clear view of her spectacular ass and more. The white bow in the center of her back would beg him to untie it and reveal what she was hiding beneath the front of that fantasy apron. Or maybe if he pleaded nicely, she’d lift the fabric and display her secrets to him. Mercy.
Lost in his fantasy, the crotch of Adam’s jeans shrank an additional size.
“Are you still there?” she asked.
He snapped back to his uninspiring reality. “Yeah. Um, Madison?”
“Wear a dress for me?” She wouldn’t agree to wear nothing but an apron in public, but a dress would at least give him a view of those spectacular legs of hers. “With a short skirt.”