Page 66 of Hard Rock Fling
"I'm just another intern. You're a famous rock star. I know where I stand."
"You're wrong. We're equals, Hope." He ran a hand through his hair, rueful. "If anything, you're more important than me."
I gave him a skeptical look. "You can't possibly think that."
"Do you know how many musicians are out there waiting to be discovered? Believe me, if I quit music tomorrow, they'd find a replacement within minutes."
"You're underestimating how much people love you."
"They loveDamian. They love the idea of The Twins. No one cares about Ian."
My heart clenched, aching for him. "I care about Ian."
His eyes flicked up to mine, examining me closely, as if trying to discern whether I was lying or not. I don't know what he saw in my eyes, but he pulled me forward, brushing his lips against mine, a not-quite kiss. "That's why you're different," he murmured into my mouth. "That's why you're special."
Those pretty words again. I'd come to both love them and loathe them.
I wanted to hear more.
I wanted him to stop saying them.
I wanted to believe he meant them.
I knew better than to hope he was telling the truth.
I stepped away from the circle of his arms, giving myself space. "What are we having for dinner?"
He tugged me close again, our fronts pressed together. "I know what I'm having for dinner."
The wicked grin he gave me made my stomach do flips.
"We don't want dinner to get cold."
"It'll keep," he dismissed. "Right now there's something I want even more."
"How about we save that for after?" I didn't know if I wanted to have sex while my feelings were still so tangled up.
Ian almost pouted. It was cute.
"After, then," he agreed.
The food was simple but delicious. Fresh, handmade pasta dressed in light olive oil and parmesan sauce with diced tomatoes. I had to keep myself from moaning when I took my first bite.
"This is amazing. Did you make it?"
Ian laughed. "Hell no. I have no idea how to use half the gadgets in my kitchen. I ordered in. I can make bacon, pancakes, sometimes omelets, and ramen noodles. That's it."
"Sometimesomelets?"
"It usually ends up being scrambled eggs."
"It's good to be aware of one's strengths and weaknesses."
"And you? Can you cook?"
"I sort of had to learn how. My dad worked all the time so my sister and I took turns after my mom—" I cut myself off and looked down, twirling the pasta with my fork.
Ian put his hand on mine. "Is she…?"
