Touch Me Read online

  Table of Contents

  Also Available

  Touch Me

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Excerpt: Light My Fire

  Excerpt: Love Her Madly

  Excerpt: Break On Through

  Christie Ridgway’s Book List

  About the Author

  Touch Me

  By

  Christie Ridgway

  Published by Christie Ridgway

  © Christie Ridgway 2015

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Also Available

  In the Rock Royalty Series

  Light My Fire

  Love Her Madly

  Break on Through

  Touch Me

  Years ago, Rolling Stone magazine dubbed the nine collective children of the most famous band in the world “Rock Royalty.” Now all grown up, the princes and princesses are coming back to L.A.’s Laurel Canyon to discover if love can be found among the ruins of a childhood steeped in sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.

  Some people say Payne Colson has a death wish. He likes all things fast, hot, and dangerous. His life was on a rocket-like trajectory until he crashed, bringing into his life a woman from the past that he’d done all he could to protect…from himself. But she’s more temptation now and Payne isn’t sure he has the strength to turn away from her a second time.

  Rose Dailey had a teenage crush on Payne, and he’s only sexier now. She’s been walking the straight-and-narrow since that one play she made for him, but now she’s ready for a visit to the wild side… And maybe ready for Payne as well.

  © Copyright 2015 Christie Ridgway

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Chapter One

  When a man reclined poolside at his bachelor home surrounded by voluptuous, twenty-something triplets, only to discover he couldn’t think of anything beyond how quickly he could send them on their way—well, said man must be sicker than he’d thought.

  But Payne Colson wasn’t sick in the cold-and-flu sense of sick. He was recovering from an accident that involved tires, speed, and an oil-slickened raceway. For a second he was back on the practice track, the other Formula E car sliding into his, knocking the right front wheel free and causing the long skid and showy triple flip that had taken him high in the air and over the barricade where his vehicle finally crashed upside down.

  Then, adrenaline had flooded his system and he hadn’t immediately felt the subsequent scrapes, bruises, broken bones, and torn internal organs.

  Now, what he was left with was a combination of grating frustration and unshakeable boredom. It was more than three months post-collision and he wanted his life back.

  The one filled with work, women, and risk.

  They passed the time. Filled the void. Gave him a reason to get up in the morning.

  The ladies by his side only served to remind him of what he wasn’t yet ready to take on.

  “You’re not even listening, Payne,” one of the triplets complained, her luscious mouth pouting.

  “Sorry, uh…” He quirked a brow.

  “Deandra,” she supplied.

  It didn’t bother him that he couldn’t distinguish which of the Berry triplets he was addressing. It was their choice to dress in identical outfits, their hair bleached the same shade of blonde and fashioned in identical styles.

  “I’m not into reality TV,” he said. “At least not as much as you and Danette and DeLayne.” Their parents had done that to them. Deandra, Danette, and DeLayne. Triple-D. It had become a self-fulfilling prophecy, he decided, eyeing the tight T-shirts they wore with low-cut jeans and high-heeled pumps. They worked for a production company, arranging transportation for the stars. Or maybe it was transportation for the stars’ pets. Something.

  They wanted to break into the movies themselves, naturally.

  “How’d your latest audition go?” he asked, recalling they’d chattered about one scheduled a couple of days before.

  They beamed triple smiles at him for remembering.

  “We’re waiting to hear,” they said together, holding up six identical sets of crossed fingers.

  Smiling in return, he held up his own two hands, pointer digits twined with middles, glad to note there wasn’t even a twinge from the collarbone that had been broken in four places. A cloud passed over the February sun and he glanced up, noting the single puff of condensation in the bright blue sky. He’d assumed winter had already passed through this Southern California canyon setting. Was that a foul-weather omen?

  It didn’t seem possible, with the temperature near eighty in his backyard, shielded as it was from any wind by mature trees and foliage. The warmth set off a yawn, which he covered with his hand.

  Deandra sent him a sympathetic look. “You’re tired. We should go.”

  He wished they would. This was his first day back at his own house after weeks and weeks of being cooped up with his mother. Maybe a little alone-time would make him heal faster.

  “Unless there’s something we can do for you,” either DeLayne or Danette said.

  Payne rubbed his knuckles against the edge of his jaw until they encountered the line of his close-cropped goatee. The triplets, bless their hearts, had a gift for grooming they’d used on him during his convalescence. “I’m good, thanks. Reed took me out for a shave yesterday.”

  And wasn’t that pitiful? He still wasn’t cleared to drive.

  “Perhaps there’s another kind of…relief we could offer you,” one of the triplets suggested with a quick wink.

  Oh, God. In the past, he’d enjoyed their sexual confidence and their sense of adventure. His yard was so secluded that there was privacy for any kind of game they had in mind.

  But it was Payne who wasn’t ready for his part in it—neither his spirit nor his body—and it would be humiliating to admit. Sorry girls, the libido seems to have crashed along with my electrically powered racing car. Before, the hovering presence of his mother had been excuse enough.

  Now, the truth would have to do.

  Though the real truth was, the libido hadn’t been operating normally since before he’d been clipped by Dario Senna’s car during a practice session.

  No, not really a libido problem, Payne amended. His sexual appetite wasn’t out of order. It was that his interest in assuaging it in his usual casual manner had evaporated with the surprise reappearance of a certain dark-haired, gray-eyed woman into his life.

  He cleared his throat. “Ladies…I appreciate your kindness, but this isn’t a good time. I’m, uh, not at my best.”

  The three exchanged glances and small smiles. “Oh, you big dear,” Deandra said. Her hands toyed with the hem of her tight top, and her sisters mirrored the movement. “Don’t worry. We’ll do all the work.”

  Then, as if they’d choreographed it, they rose from their seats, gave luxurious str
etches of their long torsos which brought into prominence their magnificent bosoms and tiny waists. Next they began to slide the cotton-knit up their bellies inch-by-inch.

  Payne stifled his groan just as he detected the clearing of a feminine throat. The triplets froze. His head whipped toward the sound.

  He gawked as Rose Dailey continued through his side gate. Hadn’t he just been thinking of her?

  With a quick look at the ladies who’d yanked their tees back into place, she strode forward in casual, knee-length boots and a denim dress that fastened up the front. As she neared him, she slanted a second glance at his three visitors and then did up another button at her cleavage.

  Damn.

  He yanked his gaze away from it and pasted a scowl on his face. “What are you doing here?”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, with a vague smile that didn’t land on either him or the triplets but somewhere near the sculpted wall over which water cascaded into the pool. “But I tried the front door. When no one answered, I followed the voices.”

  Shifting, he straightened on the lounge chair, trying to suppress his wince at the mild pain it caused. “Rose,” he said, gesturing toward the other women. “Meet Deandra, Danette, and DeLayne.”

  Mutual waves were sketched. Three curious gazes took in Rose. He knew what they saw. Medium height, a lithe body with sweet curves. A face that could stop buses, trains, fleets of ships. It was heart-shaped and framed by her dark, layered hair. Bangs swept to the side just above eyes as gray as the coastal fog. Her pink mouth was curved in its trademark crooked smile.

  Like she saw right through you—past your polished facade and your facile lies and straight to your false heart.

  “We knew each other as kids,” he added for the triplets. “I dated her big sister.”

  “And now his big brother gave me a call and asked me to, uh, make contact,” Rose said.

  Payne’s brows shot up. “Ren?”

  “Mmm.” She ventured one step closer. “Reed gave him my number.”

  What? “Reed Hopkins?”

  The triplets perked up. “We love Reed,” they said together.

  Payne shot them a glance. “He’s engaged now.”

  They frowned. “We hate Reed.” But the words held only disappointment, not heat.

  Rose’s gaze cut to them, then cut back. Her expression didn’t change. “As a get well gift, your brother has hired me to be your personal assistant.”

  His jaw dropped.

  “Until you get clearance from your doctor,” she added. “I understand you were at your mother’s since the accident, but she had a trip planned. So I’ll…do whatever she did.”

  “She’ll be your temp mommy!” a triplet crowed. “How helpful.”

  “Helpful?” Payne might have thundered it, because the three sisters looked alarmed.

  “Maybe we should get going,” one of them said.

  And leave him here alone with Rose, without a buffer? “I thought we had plans,” he said, trying to bury the note of desperation.

  They looked between themselves, then at Rose. “Um…” The nearest triplet licked her lips.

  Rose’s face went…well, rosy. “I wouldn’t dream of breaking anything up.”

  “Great,” Payne said, his voice surly. “Go away.”

  “As soon as we get our schedule worked out,” she responded.

  “I don’t need you!”

  “Of course you do,” one of the sisters piped up. “You’re supposed to be resting. Now that you’re back at home, who is going to help you out with the cooking and the cleaning and the laundry?”

  He was aware of Rose’s eyes on him. What did she see? His six-feet, two-inch frame had gone a little leaner since he’d crashed. But the shave was good and the barber had cut his dark blond hair yesterday too, so he—what the hell did it matter? Rose’s assessment didn’t matter a whit to him.

  She didn’t matter a whit to him.

  “I can drive you to work as well. Ren said you’re allowed to drop by for a few hours each week.”

  Ren, that crafty bastard. Not only had he confiscated the keys to all Payne’s vehicles, but the man also knew how much his younger brother wanted to check in with his auto salvage yards, particularly the one he’d bought right before the accident. The place was a mess and Payne had been worrying over it.

  “And he already paid me a deposit for my services,” Rose continued. “Which I spent.”

  Spent…on what? He tried to recall what she’d been doing in recent years and drew a blank. That was because when she’d showed up at an extended family event—invited by that other SOB, Reed—a few months ago, Payne had intentionally kept his distance.

  “I need the money,” Rose said in cheerful tones. “So you’re stuck with me.”

  “How about this? You can keep the money and I won’t say anything about you not showing up.”

  Those gray eyes of hers rounded. He looked away in case he’d lose himself in them. “I couldn’t do that! I’m not deceitful.”

  No, that would be him. Payne Colson had been born with the genetic markers for dishonesty and dissoluteness, which were then stewed in a childhood surrounded by licentiousness, infidelity, and everything else that was wrong with the world. He’d largely accepted it until Rose Dailey, in her first pair of high heels, had showed up at one of the raging parties his father’s band had thrown.

  Then Payne had come face-to-face with his future for the first time and he hadn’t liked what he’d seen. Who he knew he was destined to be.

  He’d spent the last decade or so trying to save every woman he met from the man he’d glimpsed that night. And now here came Rose, who was his Achilles’ heel and his bête noire and also still the same sweet, innocent temptation she’d been all those years ago.

  She’d been the only noble thing he’d ever done…as well as the one who had shown him the very worst that he could be.

  Now she slammed her hands onto her hips. She wore a thick leather belt around her waist that matched her boots and he wondered what she’d think if he told her he was envisioning wrapping that leather around her wrists at the small of her back, holding her in place while he fucked her from behind.

  Because it was true. And for the first time since speeding one hundred fifty miles per hour and losing control, his blood was rushing just that fast. Making him harder than he’d ever been.

  “I’m going to return tomorrow,” she said, pinning him with her eyes.

  “Oh yeah?” Great comeback, but with all his blood rushing southward, his brain synapses were firing too slow for anything better.

  “Yeah.”

  “Only if you’re in uniform.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of uniform is that?”

  “Short. Black. With one of those frilly white aprons.” He gave her a wolfish leer that he hoped would scare her away.

  The triplets tittered.

  He ignored them and ran his gaze from the top of Rose’s head to the toes of her boots. “I’ve always wanted a French maid.”

  I’ve always wanted a French maid.

  Stomping toward her second-hand, sensible sedan, Rose Dailey snorted. Ridiculous man. Ridiculous idea!

  Not for a single second would she imagine herself in a tiny, clinging black number, with a corset-styled top and a short skirt spread by layers of white petticoats that lifted the hem to a level that would reveal ruffled, cheek-revealing panties every time she bent at the waist.

  Thigh-high white stockings would cover her legs and feet strapped into patent leather—

  Gah!

  Settling into the driver’s seat, she cast a dark look in the direction of Payne’s house. Was it the source of that fleeting, filthy fantasy? All glass and angles, its two stories were surrounded by lush landscaping and a privacy fence to create a stylish, secluded bachelor pad.

  The perfect location for whatever dirty thing she’d interrupted between him and the triple bombshells.

  Just thinking of it, her face
burned. Did he really…?

  But of course he really did. As Rolling Stone magazine had once termed him and the other children of the Velvet Lemons, the most infamous rock band in the world, he was Rock Royalty. There were no rules for royals, everybody knew that.

  Rose pointed her car down the winding road that led through Nichols Canyon. The tangles of sycamore, sumac, eucalyptus trees, and volunteer bougainvillea on either side of the narrow route was familiar. The same vegetation populated Laurel Canyon, just a crow’s flight away, where she’d lived a few years with her parents and her older sister Lily. The Velvet Lemons still had a compound there, an expansive piece of property that included the three houses where the nine members of the Rock Royalty had spent their childhoods.

  Though it was hard to imagine Payne Colson as a child. She’d come to know him later, when he was a teen god, all blond beauty, lanky body, and devastating grin.

  Now a man…

  Muscle and bone were heavier. Hair a touch darker now, the short stuff around his firm mouth was golden. She’d never kissed a man with a beard or mustache. Would it be soft? Rough?

  Her skin prickled at the thought, imagining the sensation of his smooth lips against hers then cruising over her jaw and down her neck.

  A bicyclist swooped from a side street, pulling in front of her, and Rose shrieked a little as she abruptly applied her brakes. The rider looked over his shoulder, lifting one hand in an apologetic gesture. Instead of glaring, she felt grateful to him.

  The crisis had taken her out of her head and put her squarely back in the moment.

  There were no costumes or kisses in her future.

  In short moments, she was back in the traffic and urban bustle of Hollywood Boulevard. She’d been away long enough to be surprised by how the bucolic Hollywood Hills were situated so close to bars, eateries, souvenir shops, and the iconic Walk of Fame. On every corner people loaded onto tour buses or bought maps to celebrity homes.

  Her cell rang, but rule-follower that she was, she wouldn’t dream of answering it while driving. Though she was intent on making changes, she didn’t have a wish to get into any real danger.