Bad Boy Makeover, page 1
BAD BOY MAKEOVER
CHRISTINE GLOVER
This one’s for the dreamers who create beautiful art and music for all of us!
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Also by Christine
About Christine
Acknowledgments
1
“Open this door now.” Kayla Baron stared at the dark wooden door that stood between her and the most stubborn case she’d ever encountered. “Or I’m calling the court to rescind your house arrest and sending your sorry butt back to jail.”
Normally, as a social worker, she’d never take on a lead singer of a rock and roll band. But she’d needed the money, so Drake Sheridan was her first exception.
She knocked again, then drew a deep breath. She’d always admired him for his talent. And she’d be the first to admit she’d acted like a total fan-girl a time or two when he’d performed live near in her home town in North Carolina. But his sexual exploits with groupies, and his wild partying days, had never impressed her. Punching out a paparazzi reporter had done little to raise her estimation.
She straightened her spine and drew back her shoulders. She didn’t need to respect Drake. She only had to secure his release.
“Open this door.” She pounded harder. “I know you’re in there.” He couldn’t leave the grounds without triggering his ankle monitor. And boy had he kicked up a fight when they’d clipped it on at the courthouse. One that would’ve sent a less successful and influential man back to jail. A man like her brother.
The door remained closed. Frustrated, she rested her forehead on the wood. When his manager had hired her, she’d said yes for two reasons. Cameron Lawford was like a brother to her. And the money she’d earn would guarantee ongoing support for the local youth center she directed.
If he’d answer the damn door.
She cursed under her breath and banged again. “I’m not leaving until you let me in, you stubborn son of a…”
“God damn it.” The door swung open. “What part of fuck off did you not understand?”
Her pulse zinged into hyper speed and all her extremities tingled with adrenaline. She inhaled and counted to ten, slowly, then released her breath until her startled reaction simmered to a steady beat.
As she regained her senses, she stared at her brand new, extremely sexy responsibility. His dark hair, curly and wild, needed combing. And his jaw was dark with unshaved stubble. He hadn’t bothered to cover his muscular, tanned chest which, when she looked down, accentuated the narrow tapering of his waist and flat stomach.
Even disheveled, he radiated strength, sex, and she was drawn to him in ways she had no business being drawn.
He wiped his eyes, a bit bloodshot, but still arresting with their amber color, and shook his dark curls from his forehead. “I told my manager I don’t need you. Go away.”
She heard the despair beneath the macho attitude and her heart pinched a little for him. For all he’d lost. But she had to keep her head on straight and tamp down her desire to comfort him. She had to be strong for the youth center, the kids, herself. “Park your tough rocker routine at the curb. You’re lucky he arranged for you to do your community service at my youth center instead of spending the next three months cleaning up roadkill.”
Grateful for her four-inch heels and the height they gave her, she wiggled around his imposing muscular six feet plus body. “Good Lord, it looks like a submarine torpedoed your house.”
She picked her way around empty cartons of Chinese takeout food and pizza boxes. Her stilettos clicked along the hardwood as she marched into his expansive living room. More takeout debris littered the floor, and ashtrays brimming with half-smoked cigars and ashes riddled the fieldstone fireplace mantle.
She coughed on the stale air and pirouetted to look at him. “How can you stand this horrible smell?” Though his house reeked, he surprisingly had a crisp, clean scent.
He slammed the door. “I don’t smell a thing.”
The sound bounced off the walls, echoing, but she refused to flinch. No one intimidated her, not even handsome and mouthwatering men like him. “Honestly, I don’t even think your place could pass a health inspection.”
He walked up to her and curled his lip. “I don’t care.”
“Obviously.” She lifted an oversized ashtray and carried it to the kitchen, then deposited the offensive remnants into the trash. “You’re going to destroy your voice with this crap floating in your lungs.”
“I don’t need my vocal chords anymore.” He sat down in a brown leather chair. “I haven’t got a band to front.”
More grief underpinned his cavalier, dispassionate tone. Her throat tightened and an unwelcome sensation burned behind her eyes. He hadn’t been the only one to suffer losses after Rising Velocity’s private jet crashed. His manager had too.
Remembering her friend’s plans for Drake despite the singer’s yearlong self-destructive crusade, she kept her sympathy in check. Cameron expected her to help Drake find his way back to his music, his passion, and his career.
“Nothing can bring them back, but you’re here. And you have a second chance to pick up the pieces of your life.” Just as she had after her own dreams had shattered ten years earlier.
“Don’t go all Pollyanna on me and start spouting platitudes. I’m sick of hearing them.” He lifted a half-empty glass and downed the liquid. “I asked you to leave me alone. Now go.”
Hearing his deep voice gave her another silly schoolgirl shiver. Knowing what he’d suffered in the aftermath of the crash nearly broke her resolve. Still, she ignored her reaction, picked up another glass and sniffed the contents. “You’re drinking apple juice?”
He shrugged. “I add vodka.”
Doubtful. According to her friend, Drake’s bad boy image was an act. He rarely drank and the smoking? That hadn’t been a thing until she discovered his near full ashtrays today. Steeling her resolve, she pretended she bought his charade. “While you’re working at the youth center, you’ll leave out the alcohol,” she said pointedly. “And you’ll quit smoking.”
“Actually, I only picked up the habit after my arrest. Figured I’ve got nothing left to lose. Plus, I may as well be in jail where I belong.”
Aha. She was right. Shaking her head internally, she realized she had a bigger task than she’d originally thought. How could she help this rock star if he refused to help himself? And she knew all too well how a person could self-destruct if he chose to make that call.
But her job was to stop Drake before he made the same, awful mistake her brother had done ten years ago.
“Cameron disagrees.” She scooped up dirty forks and put them in the dishwasher. “You’re no longer your own man. And you might as well stop the smoking before you actually become addicted to the nicotine. In fact, I insist on it.”
“Okay. I’ll stop.”
She doubted his easy capitulation, but would take it on face valued. For now. “Excellent choice,” she said, giving him a steely look while mentally giving herself a high-five. “The kids and I will appreciate it.” And so would his fans once she convinced him he needed to get back into the career he’d walked away from a year ago.
“Great. Just so you know, I didn’t expect Cameron to convince the judge to put me under your watch after they clamped the ankle monitor on,” he said. “Why he’d trust me around a size nothing woman is a mystery to me.”
Despite his rough-around-the-edges tone of voice, she heard hint of grudging respect beneath it. Another point in her favor. Maybe this enigmatic, talented singer would finally come around to reforming his attitude about himself by fulfilling his community service. “Don’t let my petite stature fool you. I can bring down a man twice your size.” And had to on more than one occasion. She tossed another empty food carton into the trash. “I refuse to let you wallow in self-pity. Not when I have kids who need so much more than you.”
“You shouldn’t waste your time on me.” He grabbed the last slice of cold pizza from a box on the table next to him. “I won’t go back to the man I was before the crash.”
Her throat filled and she wanted to bridge the gap between them, hug him like she would anyone hurting as badly as him. But that would cross a line she didn’t dare cross. Not when the center counted on her to reform him.
“Won’t is not in my vocabulary,” she said. “Nor will I allow it to be part of yours.”
She recycled the empty pizza box, then walked to the sliding glass doors and pulled open the burgundy drapes. She stopped to take in the breathtaking panorama surrounding his chalet. Eagles soared above the mountain forests. The inlet at the base of the lush North Carolinian forest already had boats floating in the sparkling lake below. The scene invited play, but she’d arrived to work.
She turned away from the view and faced him. Time to do her job. Not fantasize. Or to let her heart get too soft where Drake was concerned.
He leaned in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. His naked chest rippled, and her tummy flip-flopped at the sight of her teenage crush’s bare torso. So much for her resolve to keep her fantasies at bay.
Every woman she’d known in her circle fan-girled over Drake Sheridan, the Rock Star. Ex
Because long ago, she’d invited a drug addict into her life and he’d gotten her brother addicted to meth, leading to a terrible explosion that had taken her parents from her. She’d vowed to make up for that loss. No way would she let anyone come close to her remaining family and bring them harm.
“I did the crime,” he said around a mouthful of pizza. “I should do the time. Hell, I want to do the time.”
“Cameron won’t let you sit out a prison sentence,” she said, picking up the rest of the cartons. “Your lawyer convinced the judge you were provoked. Even I don’t know how you handled the media pressure after your private jet crashed.”
“Which is why I don’t give a damn where I spend the next several months. Just as long as it’s not on a stage or in front of the paparazzi.”
That she understood. Not because she’d endured international media scrutiny after her family’s tragedy, but because local gossips and small-time news outlets had their day with her for weeks afterward.
“People care about you. And they’re fighting for you to have a second chance.” She tossed the cartons, then returned to his chair. “Community service at my center is your first step in getting your life back on track even if you never sing another note in public again.” Though she sincerely hoped he would after he’d completed the time with the kids in the program she’d developed.
“Cameron may not want to give up on me, but my career is over. I don’t need the money and fame is overrated.”
She looked into his haunted golden eyes. Eyes that had the power to make a woman forget about promises to herself.
But not her.
Once again, she reminded herself that successfully handling his case would save more than his career. She injected a you-had-better-follow-my-orders tone into her voice. “Find a way to look outside yourself. My kids are counting on you.” Operation Bad Boy Reform was her ticket to saving the center.
Except now she wondered if the bad boy image had been an act all along, given his confession about the smoking being a new tool to self-destruct rather than a habit.
“What will I do with them?”
She heard a hint of relenting in his question and seized her advantage. “Singing, playing, teaching music.”
“Performing is out.”
“As their mentor, you’ll have to sing, but there’s no performance involved.” Not yet.
He pressed his fingers against his temples as if warding off a colossal headache, then blew out a long breath. “After I complete my community service, I’m free to do what I want, right?”
“Yes,” she said, but if Cameron had his way, and their plan succeeded, he’d get drawn back to the stage.
“I’ll cooperate, but only because I’m tired of hanging out here by myself.” He bolted out of his chair. “When do we start?”
Her knees wobbled and wind roared through her ears. Even in her heels, she lost the advantage of height with him towering over her small frame. She had to get the upper hand or he’d only see her as a vulnerable sprite, not a woman in charge.
“We start with you taking two steps back.”
He raised his eyebrows, looked down at his feet, and backed away one step.
Her legs steadied, and she pointed to his other foot. “One more.”
He took another reluctant step back and crossed his arms. “Satisfied?”
“Yes,” she said.
Her panic had subsided, but now the sight of his bulging biceps had her heart skipping a beat. She drew a deep breath and channeled her adrenaline into detailing his duties. “The teens in your group meet in two hours. You’ll start teaching them as soon as we get to the studio.”
“Don’t expect miracles,” he said. “I’m no virtuoso.”
“I only expect you to show up, teach them and focus on your community service.”
“Sounds like a piece of cake. Can’t be that hard to babysit a bunch of teens.”
She gazed at the top of his ceiling, thought of her niece waiting for her back at the activity center, and crossed her fingers behind her back. “You’d be surprised.”
Warning cymbals clanged in Drake’s brain. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The diminutive dungeon guard standing in front of him had been a surprise call by his manager. He liked her sassy attitude and she was super easy on the eyes. Her tight jeans accentuated her small waist and her curvy hips. And he’d enjoyed the view from his chair as she commandeered his house.
After Cameron had introduced her at the courthouse and he’d heard the judge agree to his manager’s scheme, he’d indulged in a few fantasies featuring the sexy youth director. But in reality, he’d vowed to stay clear of any woman given his current situation.
The little warden his manager had hired to keep track of him was off-limits.
She tilted her head, pursed her full lips, and examined her nails. “They’ve had a few scrapes with the law, but they’re all musically gifted.”
She continued to avoid eye contact with him. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up in alert. Instant inner radar for him. He could spot a problem from any angle. He’d learned how to dodge them on a daily basis when he was a kid. Not that he always followed his gut. His current house arrest a case in point.
“How bad are these kids and what do they play?”
“They’re not criminals, just desperate for attention,” she said. “If they don’t stay out of trouble, they’re headed for juvie. You’ll find out where their talents are when you get to the center.”
For the first time in months, a long-lost zip of excitement pinged along his nerves. He’d have liked a place like Kayla’s to hang out when he was growing up, but he had been lucky. High school teachers had taken risks for him, recognized his raw talent and had given him the tools to escape his past.
“So the kids and I are in the same boat—we’ve got one last chance to prove ourselves to the world and you’re in charge.” He folded his arms, regarded her, wanting to challenge her self-assuredness. After all, he knew a little of her past. “Besides the money my manager’s paying you, why do you bother?”
“I chose my career because I want to make a difference.” Fire and a slash of vulnerability flashed in her large blue eyes. “There’s not a lot of money or fame at the end of my day. But whenever I can save one child or adult from making a lifetime of bad choices, I’m happy. If you do anything to jeopardize the children’s stay-out-of-jail cards, I’ll toss you to the wolves.”
“Understood.” His rocker image had worked a little too well if she believed he’d consider jeopardizing a child’s future. Changing her perception presented a challenge. One he liked. “After I inhale a cup of coffee, we’ll head out.”
“First scrub the cobwebs out of your brain, shower, brush your teeth, and put on clean clothes,” she said. “There’s no way I’m letting the kids meet you with you looking like death in a skillet.”
Bossy was an understatement for the tiny slip of a woman holding court in his house. His new jailer might be a tiny package resembling a pixie with a heart-shaped face, but he’d bet on her using her stilettos as weapons if anyone tried to hurt the people she loved.
“I’ll be ready in twenty minutes,” he said.
“Where’s your coffee? I’ll brew you a strong pot while you freshen up.”
“Here.” He opened a cupboard and took out his Italian roast. “The machine is to the left of the fridge.”
“Great.” She grabbed the bag and waved. “Lather up twice. You could use an extra coat of soap.”
“You wanna join me?” he asked, unable to resist throwing her off balance.
“Absolutely not,” she said with a crisp edge to her tone as if trying to slap him back. But her hand trembled as she scooped coffee into the filter. “Go before I change my mind about saving your butt from a stint in jail.”
Another little hedge, he thought. One that intrigued him. Kayla claimed she liked the kind of ordinary guys who crunched numbers, wrote detailed memos, and wore business suits to work, but her shaking fingers told a different story.
