The Rock Star's Virginity (Romance Island Resort #3) Read online

  "Morning, Mr Felix," Shou said easily over his shoulder. "Urgent business on the mainland today?"

  "Yeah. Need to buy eggs. It's not Easter without chocolate."

  Shou laughed. "What, the Easter Bunny doesn't stop at Romance Island Resort? You should get that hot hotel manager to look into it. If anyone can persuade a busy bunny to rearrange his schedule, it's her."

  Hot hotel manager? Did he mean Xan? "No rabbits allowed at the resort. The island's an A-class reserve. No pets." Jason stared moodily out the window at the lagoon as they rose above the tree canopy.

  "Pity. I'd pet her, though." Shou jerked his chin at the lagoon, where someone was swimming. "Have you seen her in a bikini?"

  Jason shifted in his seat, unable to stop the image that came to mind. Xan looking hot as hell in a clinging, wet bikini on her veranda. Yeah, she had bigger boobs than he usually liked, but for a moment there, he'd seriously considered…

  "She took me for a snorkelling tour in the lagoon last week. It was hard to keep my eyes on the fish, let me tell you," the pilot continued as he arced around, setting a course for Broome. Mercifully, he shut up about Xan to talk to the tower at Broome Airport about his flight plan.

  A writhing snake awoke in Jason's belly. How come the hotel manager had taken the helicopter pilot for a tour of the lagoon but never offered him one? He was the owner of the hotel, for fuck's sake. Shouldn't he be the first to get up close and personal with the fish?

  The fish. Not the frigid manager with the big boobs. She definitely wasn't his type.

  What was the pilot saying?

  "There's a chocolate beer at the brewery?" Jason interrupted.

  "Sort of. It's a dark lager, but it tastes like chocolate. Stop by while you're in town and have a taste. You'll want more, I swear." Shou laughed. "Good thing it's still the wet season. You're my only passenger today, so if you bring back a couple of cases, there's plenty of room in my baby for good beer." He patted the…did you still call it a dashboard, when it was a helicopter and not a car? Whatever. Now Shou was stroking it.

  Jason shrugged. "We'll see. Easter eggs and chocolate beer might make for a good Easter weekend."

  Better than spending it with family. All that sympathy and pity over being fooled by Phuong – or at least that's how Jo had put it when she'd insisted he come home for Easter. Mum would worry about him. Dad would mutter something about Sharon Stone and red back spiders, like he usually did when Jason so much as hinted at romantic commitment. All three of them had pleaded for him to return to Perth for the Easter weekend.

  No fucking way. He'd spend the time alone on his private island paradise with Xan the manager who was infinitely better company because she didn't have a sympathetic bone in her body. Nothing cheered him up as much as getting her riled. She was so easy to piss off, too. All he had to do was pass out drunk somewhere public. He'd take a fight over pity any day. Maybe he should get her something for Easter. Something for all the staff working the long weekend.

  After he'd been to the pub, though. Chocolate would melt quickly in this tropical heat.

  The helicopter landed and Jason headed to the counter to collect the keys to his ride. As he closed the door of his hire car on the humidity, he paused to wonder why he had such bad luck in love. First Angel, then Audra, then Phuong…was he just fucked when it came to women? He could have anyone he wanted for a night, but for more than that…what the fuck was wrong with wanting happily ever after? Didn't rock stars deserve it? Didn't he fucking deserve it? All the chicks in books got happy endings. Why not him?

  Maybe Xan was right. He needed to find a virgin.

  He snorted. What was he supposed to do – find some chick who'd never had sex, say, "Hi, I'm Jay Felix, rock god. Want to come back to my place so I can pop your cherry?"

  He'd never looked for a virgin before. Never wanted to, either. Oh, he'd had his fair share of them, but they definitely weren't his favourite. Girls were nervous before their first time and clingy afterwards – neither of which were his style.

  Nah. Xan couldn't be right. Not with all the other crazy stuff she thought. She'd told him to drink less and to stop skinnydipping in the lagoon. Both stupid ideas. What was the point in owning an island in paradise if you couldn't get drunk and swim naked whenever you wanted?

  But to get drunk he needed alcohol and the best place to get beer was a brewery, so that's where he headed. Jason strode through the beer garden without looking at anything but his destination: the bar. Anywhere else held memories he didn't want to revisit right now. Soon, he had a pint of what looked like Guinness but smelled like chocolate in his hand. It slid down his throat like…well, liquid chocolate. Or beer. Because it was both, he set the empty glass on the counter and called for another.

  The second went almost as fast as the first. It was hot, Jason reasoned, and a man needed to drink a lot to keep from dehydrating. Or melting. Or something. That's why he needed another pint. Cold and smooth and…weird how the beer tasted like chocolate. Better have another one to make sure.

  Why was he here again?

  Jason peered blearily at the menu board above the bar, but the coloured chalk swirls blurred into an unreadable mess. He signalled to the barman. "I need two…no, make it three cases of this stuff to take home. In my car. Helicopter." He pondered a moment. Didn't Easter have four days? "No. Four cases of beer. Don't want to run out." He drained his glass. "And one more for the road."

  All too soon, he clunked another empty pint glass on the bar mat. Jason wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and squinted at the stacked boxes beside him.

  "If you're ready to go, mate, I'll help you carry these out to the car," the barman said cheerfully, tipping his trolley up. Eight dozen bottles of beer clinked in their boxes. Music to Jason's ears.

  "Yeah," Jason said, pointing out the door. "M'car's out there." He ambled down the veranda steps, while the barman wheeled his beer down the ramp.

  A short time later, when the boxes were secure in the boot of Jason's hire car, he climbed into the driver's seat and fumbled for his keys.

  "You sure you're all right to drive, mate?" the barman asked.

  Jason waved a flippant hand. "No worries. I only had a couple." But he wasn't part of a couple any more, his brain registered foggily. Or even a band. He was a single. The first time he came to this pub, he'd been mobbed by girls, but today not a single one had approached him. See how far he'd fallen. From married rock god to lonely loser. Fuck that for a joke. The car's engine roared under his lead foot, as ready to leave the pub behind as he was.

  The tide was out in Roebuck Bay, baring creamy sand as smooth as a hot chick's chest. Fuck, he needed to find some action soon if even the bloody beach got him turned on.

  The supermarket. Five…maybe ten minutes in the supermarket, and he'd be sorted. That's all it would take before some girl's eye would get that excited spark of recognition as she realised she was in the presence of a rock god. That one spark was all he needed – no fan could resist his rock star charms. He'd take her to a hotel room here on the mainland and give her a night she'd never forget.

  Fuck yeah.

  If only he could forget Phuong as easily. The sweet, frightened girl whose smile lit up his world, or the calculating killer, waiting for her chance to take his life and everything he owned? If she hadn't confessed to the police, he never would have believed it. But now…

  What was that weird chiming noise? Was there a vibrator in his pocket? How the hell did he get a…

  Phone. Oh yeah, there was mobile phone access in town. He'd forgotten his own ringtone, it'd been so long since he'd heard it.

  He cleared his throat, channelling deep and sexy. "Hello?"

  "Finally! Jay, it's Victoria. Why won't you answer your phone? I've had every major label hammering me day and night to sign you. Band, solo artist…they don't care. All they want is Jay Felix."

  He'd never been so happy to hear the band manager's voice. His heart leaped…and nosedived. The
world might think they wanted Jay Felix, but what they really wanted was Angel's music. He was just the front man, the face of the band. Stupid and useless and easy prey for black widows. "I don't know." How did his voice come out sounding so weak and weedy?

  "What do you mean, you don't know? Have you found a new agent? Is that what it is?" Victoria's voice rose in panic.

  "No, I just…" Can't write songs? Don't think I'm good enough for a solo career? Can't perform without Angel, my muse, telling me backstage she'll kick my arse if I mess up? Can't sing about love when my life's going to shit?

  A police siren arced up behind him, so loud he couldn't hear what Victoria was saying any more. Jason glanced in his rear vision mirror, wondering what the idiot had done to be caught by the police. Only…there was no other car to be seen, except the police car. Both the driver and passenger were gesturing for him to pull off the road.

  What the fuck? He wasn't even speeding. Sighing, he slowed to a stop and watched the cop approaching his window.

  "Gotta go," he said curtly, ending the call before Victoria could say goodbye.

  "Sir, could you please…" The policewoman stopped and took off her sunglasses. "Oh, it's you."

  Not the spark of recognition he wanted, but Jason knew how to use it to his advantage. He looked her up and down. There was something seriously hot about a woman in uniform. Especially one with handcuffs.

  "Having second thoughts, are you? I mean, you did have me handcuffed to a bed last time we met. I won't say no to a little kink with the right woman." Jason winked and was rewarded with her faint blush. "I mean, it's not like I've done anything wrong here." He gestured at the dashboard.

  "Nothing wrong?" she sputtered. "You were driving erratically on the wrong side of the road, talking on your mobile phone. And is that…are you drunk?"

  "Nope," he replied cheerfully.

  This didn't seem to faze her in the slightest. "I'm going to breath test you anyway. You won't get away with drink driving like you did last time."

  Minutes passed while Jason blew dutifully into the breathalyser, then repeated the test, as the policewoman's brows knitted together.

  "Happy now?" he drawled.

  "Absolutely. I wanted to be certain. You have just lost your licence for the next six months, and when the office processes all this, you'll get another five months after that. It could be a year before you're allowed on the streets again."

  "What?" Jason yelped. "But I'm not drunk! I only had a couple!"

  "A couple of bottles. Says here that you're 0.082, well over the legal limit. If you like, I can take you to the hospital and let them do a blood test."

  Blood? No, he'd faint. Or throw up. Or both. Rock gods didn't have shameful secrets like being afraid of the sight of blood. "If I agree to go on just the breath test, will you use those handcuffs on me tonight?" He threw in a lazy smile to underline the invitation.

  Instead of responding, she continued tapping the tablet in her hands as her face reddened.

  Inwardly, Jason cheered his victory. He knew she had a thing for him!

  "There. Three fines. One for driving under the influence of alcohol, well over the legal limit. One for using your mobile phone while driving. And a third fine for not wearing a seat belt." She triumphantly thrust the papers at his face.

  "Talking on the phone's illegal now?" He snatched the fines and scanned them. "And it's six demerit points? How is talking worse than speeding?"

  "It's not. But with the long weekend coming up, you get double demerit points. So instead of just the dozen you'd get on a normal day, today you get two for the price of one."

  "It's not Easter yet. It's just a normal Friday."

  "Check your calendar, Mr Felix. The first weekend in March is the Labour Day weekend here. The double demerit period started at midnight last night, like always. You're in Western Australia now." She looked far too smug.

  "So your plan is to take me to the police station, give me a nice cosy little cell, and keep me captive for the whole long weekend?"

  From her shocked expression, Jason decided he'd guessed right.

  He winked. "Bring it on, baby. A bit of kink never hurt anyone. Sounds like a fun weekend. I hope you're wearing hot lingerie under that uniform, though, because if I'm going to submit to a policewoman dominatrix, you'd better make it worth my while."

  She turned on her heel and walked away without a word.

  Jason rubbed his hands together. One of his fantasies coming true – that was definitely worth losing his licence. He could afford to hire a chauffeur to do his driving for him.

  "Please get out of the car, sir, and give me the keys."

  Jason stared at the male police officer. "Now, I was just discussing that with your colleague over there. I'd prefer to speak to her."

  The man laughed. "Yeah, Nelson said that. She also said that you're the first offender who's made her want to deliver a bit of police brutality. So I'm going to use a bit of officers' discretion and give you a lift to the airport, where you can hop on a plane out of here, or you can come with us back to the police station where we'll put you in the cooling-off cell. You can spend the whole weekend surrounded by all the vomiting drunks we pick up over the next three days before she calls the media to tell them who we have in the cells."

  Fuck that. "Helicopter. I have a helicopter waiting at the airport to take me back to my island," Jason snapped.

  "Well, aren't you lucky? A word to the wise, then, mate. You might want to stay on that island for a while, until Constable Nelson's simmered down. The Cape Leveque Road's her beat, so staying off the mainland's your best bet to keep your balls, mate. Not that I told you that."

  Grumpily, Jason shoved his keys at the police officer and climbed out. The policewoman wanted him – he knew it. Not his fault she was too shy to take him up on his offer.

  Jason maintained his grumpy silence for the short drive to the airport, the wait for Shou the pilot to get back from lunch, and the trek across the tarmac to the waiting helicopter. Luckily, he still had the beer. He could get properly drunk later on the stuff. Fuck Easter eggs when you could have chocolate beer.

  "Pissed off the police in town, have you?" Xan greeted him as his shoes thumped onto the resort's helipad.

  Jason shot her a sour look. "How the fuck did you find out?"

  "Naomi called, and said she'd booked you drink driving. I get that you're upset over losing your wife, but you can't go getting drunk in the middle of town first thing in the morning, then drive past the police station and not expect to get caught. Much though I hate to say it, you're better off doing that here until you're not so depressed and – "

  Sympathy. He could take anything but that. "I am not upset, or depressed, or feeling any fucking thing at all to do with that lying, murdering bitch! I went to town for a drink and a fuck because I'm a fucking rock star and that's what rock stars do for fun!"

  Xan snorted. "Well, Mr Rock Star, looks like you'll have to find some different fun to keep you occupied."

  That wouldn't be a problem. He had a whole island almost entirely to himself, aside from a few hotel staff, until peak season started and the place would be full of guests again. Boredom and rock stars was like…rock stars and celibacy. It just didn't happen. Not in Jay Felix's world. Between his money and his body, Jay could get anything he wanted. Or so he thought.

  Five

  Violet took an inordinately long time reading through the auction description. So long that she made butterflies take flight in Flavia's tummy. What if this turned out to be a terrible mistake?

  "Don't you think this is a bit extreme?" Violet said.

  "No. It's justice. We both promised we'd wait. If he's going to throw that all away and pay some girl for sex, then I'm going to do the opposite."

  Violet frowned. "The opposite would be joining a convent, not a brothel. If you do this, it'll make you a prostitute. A hooker."

  "I'm a working woman already. So are you. We sell the services our bodies pr
ovide no matter what job we're doing. My fingers on the keyboard, my mouth to talk to clients, my – "

  "Yeah, but you're not doing it naked, are you?" Violet interrupted. "This is a lot more personal than booking people's flights. Some stranger will be touching you, inside you."

  "Better than James, now I know where his dick's been."

  "Have you spoken to him yet?"

  Flavia nodded. "I asked him about last weekend. Even though he told me last Sunday he had a hangover, now he's changed his story to how he left the pub crawl early with the flu. I know he's lying. And if he's lying to me about this, how many other things has he lied about? How many other girls has he slept with? I can't marry him, Vi. I can't marry a man I don't trust."

  "So don't marry him. Break off the engagement, call off the wedding, and save yourself for someone else," Violet replied, popping a couple of nuts in her mouth.

  "I don't want to save myself for anyone. The only reason I did was because his family's religious and that's what James wanted. A virgin bride, so that's what I intended to be. Now…screw him. Screw his whole family. Not literally, of course. If that hypocrite gets to have sex while I have to stay chaste…to hell with that. I don't want to spend my wedding night in pain. Let some stranger have the dubious pleasure of deflowering me. A man I'll never have to see again." Flavia forced her breathing to slow. "I could just go out and screw the first man I meet in a pub. I could. But this way…it's a statement. It puts a number on just how much James is throwing away."

  Violet made a derisive sound in her throat. "A price on your body, you mean. You're worth more than however many dollars you get offered for this…insanity, Flavia. I mean, how much do you expect anyone to pay for…what are you offering? One quick fuck?"

  Flavia winced, but she steeled herself into acceptance. Violet was right. Sex with a stranger wasn't making love. It would be one quick fuck. Over and done with as quickly as possible, so as not to prolong her pain. "One night. One night with me in a five-star hotel. I'd walk in a virgin, and walk out…a woman." It actually sounded tempting when she put it like that.