No Strings Attached

By Julia Kanno

She's a puppet on a string—a guitar string, that is.

Divorce, great credit interest rates, and cereal box contests—some things just aren't supposed to happen.

So why Stephanie Spiegel is standing in the middle of a rock concert, suffering the stench of sweat and stepping in puddles of only God knows what is beyond her. But then, if 'something' hadn't come up—as usual—her ex-husband Jacob would be doing the honour of escorting their teenage daughter, Amelia. The real mystery lies in how she's going to continue to keep up the charade of emotional stability, but as fate would have it, as soon as she's talked herself down from a mental ledge, she lays eyes on the lead guitarist for 'Whatever They're Called'.

Well, damn...

There goes what little sanity she's managed to hang on to. Having won backstage passes along with the tickets, Amelia and her friends all but drag Stephanie to meet the band. And, lo and behold, Ren is every mother's worst nightmare—he's a young, handsome, arrogant, talented, arrogant, witty, arrogant rock star. Oh, and as if the man wasn't infuriating enough, Stephanie can't seem to keep her eyes off him long enough to walk without tripping. When she finds herself alone with him, sparks fly. And before she knows it, she's entwined in his arms, feeling safe and desired for the first time in a very long time. She finds herself submitting to his every desire like a puppet on a string—a guitar string, that is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
• Release date: Oct 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781781840924

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A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

No Strings Attached

ISBN # 978-1-78184-092-4

©Copyright Julia Kanno 2012

Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright September 2012

Edited by Amy Parker

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 1.

This story contains 142 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 13 pages.

Prime Time

NO STRINGS ATTACHED

Julia Kanno

She’s a puppet on a string—a guitar string, that is.

Divorce, great credit interest rates, and cereal box contests—some things just aren’t supposed to happen.

So why Stephanie Spiegel is standing in the middle of a rock concert, suffering the stench of sweat and stepping in puddles of only God knows what is beyond her. But then, if ‘something’ hadn’t come up—as usual—her ex-husband Jacob would be doing the honour of escorting their teenage daughter, Amelia. So the real mystery lies in how she’s going to continue to keep up the charade of emotional stability, but as fate would have it, as soon as she’s talked herself down from a mental ledge, she lays eyes on the lead guitarist for ‘Whatever They’re Called’.

Well, damn…

There goes what little sanity she’s managed to hang on to. Having won backstage passes along with the tickets, Amelia and her friends all but drag Stephanie to meet the band. And, lo and behold, Ren is every mother’s worst nightmare—he’s a young, handsome, arrogant, talented, arrogant, witty, arrogant rock star. Oh, and as if the man wasn’t infuriating enough, Stephanie can’t seem to keep her eyes off him long enough to walk without tripping. When she finds herself alone with him, sparks fly. And before she knows it, she’s entwined in his arms, feeling safe and desired for the first time in a very long time. She finds herself submitting to his every desire like a puppet on a string—a guitar string, that is.

Dedication

To one of my fellow authors, Alix Richards, a woman who proudly wears the label ‘cougar’ right next to the ‘sexual deviant’ one. It is a rare woman who is brave enough to love without limits or fear of what other people will think of her. It is my hope that her current relationship, and any ones she may have in the future, leave no room for second-guessing or regrets—after all, only fools regret things that once made them smile.

First and foremost, I need to thank my critique partner. If it wasn’t for Jennifer’s ‘bright’ ideas, I would have never even contemplated writing out the plot bunny that eventually became this book. Also, I would like to express my gratitude to my editor, Amy Parker. This story was originally a short one. If it wasn’t for her persistence, Stephanie and Ren would have never developed into the type of characters I hope will have a positive impact on my readers. In addition, I need to thank my darling roommate for allowing me to write like mad without worrying about things like doing the dishes, etc. And, lastly, I must thank my publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing, for taking a chance on a new author—especially one as neurotic as myself.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Nana: Ai Yazawa

Levi’s: Levi Strauss & Co.

Jenny Craig: Jenny Craig, Inc.

BlackBerry: Research In Motion Limited

Band-Aids: Johnson & Johnson

Wi-Fi: Wi-Fi Alliance

ChapStick: Pfizer Inc.

Victoria’s Secret: Limited Brands

Twilight: Stephenie Meyer

Coke: The Coca-Cola Company

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: Roald Dahl Nominee Ltd

Pretty Woman: Touchstone Pictures

Shrek: DreamWorks Animation SKG, Inc.

Pampered Chef: Pampered Chef, Ltd.

Boy Scout: Boy Scouts of America

Tupperware: Tupperware Brands Corporation

Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

Rosemary’s Baby: Ira Levin/Random House, Inc.

Chapter One

‘People can’t just be tied together. They have to connect. Otherwise, they’ll find themselves bound by hand and foot.’—Ai Yazawa, Nana

The Easter bunny, great credit card interest rates, and prizes promised by cereal box contests—some things just weren’t supposed to happen, which was why Stephanie Spiegel couldn’t believe she was standing in the front row at a rock concert.

Music barrelled out of the speakers, torturing her jazz-cultured ears until she was sure they’d burst at any moment. Dear God, when did this racket become music? Stephanie’s grip on her designer handbag tightened as she gritted her teeth. It was nothing but noise, banging and garbled words the lead singer managed to squeeze in between howling monkey screams.

What the hell was I thinking? She’d learned a long time ago the only things teenagers were interested in were the things that drove their parents to distraction. Stephanie slanted an arch look at her daughter. Sandwiched between her two high school best friends—Sandra and Vanessa—Amelia clung to the front of the stage, screaming with as much vigour as the rest of Whatever-They’re-Called’s fans.

A loud screech sounded through the massive speakers set up on either side of the huge, smoking stage, and she nearly keeled over in horror. I’m in hell. For the umpteenth time since Stephanie had stepped into the auditorium, she cursed Crunchy Wheats and their damn contest. When Amelia had come screaming into the house, shaking a sheet of paper and a handful of tickets, Stephanie had made up her mind, right then and there, to boycott the inconsiderate bastard cereal company.

If it hadn’t been for them, she’d be in the comfort of her home, nursing a nice glass of red wine as she read her book club’s latest selection. Or maybe she’d be going over the event plans for the Ferguson banquet. Who knows, she might even be learning how to knit! But, no… Instead, she was standing in the middle of a bunch of screaming ninnies, and she was being forced to endure the stench of sweat and something else that reminded her suspiciously of urine.

God, grant me patience… She sucked in a deep breath and tried to distract herself from the chaos by creating a mental grocery list of the things she’d need for tomorrow’s dinner party.

There was another disappointing thought.

Tomorrow she’d be forced to play host to her ex-husband and his new wife. Stephanie scrunched up her nose. Bastard. If he’d been nearly as responsible as he liked to claim he was, he would’ve been the one standing here in this throng of madness instead of her. But no, he’d made a huge deal of wanting to be the one to chaperone the girls and, of course, had called Stephanie at the very last minute to cancel because ‘something’ had come up.

Stephanie narrowed her eyes. Something always came up.

‘Something’ was the reason they’d finally filed for divorce after ten years of marriage. Despite the righteous annoyance gnawing at the sides of her patience, a twinge of resignation shot through her chest and she blew out a breath. Jacob was never going to change. She knew that. Actually, neither of them would change. He would always be the fun, wild one. And she’d always be the responsible, rigid one. It was no wonder their marriage hadn’t worked out.

Opposites attract—my ass. With a heavy sigh, she cast a glance at her daughter. Amelia beamed with excitement and happiness as she and her friends strained to get even closer to the stage. Stephanie smiled. At least Amelia was happy.

Her daughter hadn’t taken the divorce very well. She’d been so excited about the concert that, when Jacob had called to cancel earlier, Stephanie hadn’t been able to bear the idea of disappointing her. Well… I suppose this isn’t so bad. She crossed her arms and scanned her surroundings. The fence that had been erected around the front row slash VIP section kept the raging hordes of fans from crushing her and the girls to death. And it wasn’t as if the concert would be longer than an hour or so. Stephanie flicked her wrist and squinted down at her watch in an attempt to glean the time. Oh, let it be so…

The opening band finished their last song and the crowd roared in approval. The sound rattled Stephanie’s eardrums, and for a moment she wondered whether she would just keel over. No such luck. All it took was a few blinks and she was right as rain. Damn it. The crowd continued their applause, although, judging by the shift in the atmosphere the praise had more to do with the impending headliner’s performance than the opening band’s show. She raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath that very quickly turned into an even heartier sigh. Only an hour or so. I can do this. She glanced at her daughter and smiled. I can do this for Amelia.

Stephanie caught a wolfish grin from the corner of her eye, and her musings screeched to a stop. Two college-age boys, both carrying suspicious-looking red plastic cups, stood a few feet back from the girls and were in the process of eyeing them like they were, in fact, the three little pigs. Apparently noticing them, Amelia tossed a saucy little look over her shoulder and smiled. Stephanie watched the whole exchange in absolute horror, and for a moment, the only course of action she could think of involved striking those two bumbling hooligans down with her purse.

Assault is wrong, her better sense reminded her, and Stephanie took a calming breath. Amelia tapped her friend’s shoulder and both girls tossed looks back at the young men. And suddenly Stephanie was reminded that the ‘young and stupid’ line ran both ways. Oh, no you don’t. Stephanie frowned and stomped over to the girls, placing herself between them and the leering bad influences.

Amelia’s eyes widened and Stephanie arched her eyebrow and shook her head. Amelia stuck out her tongue and then laughed as she turned back to the stage. That’s right, missy. There will be none of those shenanigans. Suddenly, Stephanie realised just how much like her own mother she sounded, and couldn’t help the wry smile that pulled at her lips. Her mother had always been a conservative woman, deeming any kind of romantic thing ‘shenanigans’. It was a wonder she and Jacob had managed to do…well, anything. Though manage they had.

Stephanie sighed and gazed at her daughter. That seemed like forever ago. Clad in a pair of jeans that barely sat on her generous hips, and a T-shirt that showed a little too much midriff for Stephanie’s comfort, Amelia was every bit the high school senior bent on giving her mother a heart attack. Stephanie shook her head and crossed her arms. It was little wonder those boys had thought her daughter that type of girl. She made a mental note to disappear that outfit the next time she found it in the laundry.

Stephanie’s skin tingled and she furrowed her brows, casting a glance over her shoulder. Much to her annoyance, neither of the young men had moved from their previous position. The taller boy, clad in loose jeans and a black T-shirt, noticed her regard and actually raised his cup and winked. Her eyes widened and a blush threatened to burn her cheeks to a crisp as she whipped her head back around and stared ahead in shock. That child did not just wink at me.

A small part of her fluttered with excitement, urging her to take another look at the handsome young man. But her better sense stomped the notion out, and within seconds she found herself seething with anger. The nerve of those…those…cheeky bastards.

When is this damn thing over, anyhow? Stephanie squinted and tried to make out the time between the flashes of light from the stage props. She quirked an eyebrow. It was a wonder people weren’t having seizures by the droves. Warmth tingled across her skin and her spine went impossibly rigid—nature’s way of telling her the young man was still staring. I will not look back. I will not look back. She chanted the affirmation in her mind, even as a glimmer of excitement coursed through her. After all, she was Amelia’s mother, and not half bad-looking, if she did say so herself. Ha! I’ve still got it. Her eyes widened. I did not just think that.

The lights dimmed until the room was immersed in darkness and the crowd silenced. Oh, what fresh hell is this…? In the newfound quiet, Stephanie stood, pulse pounding in her ears. This was ridiculous. She would not be intimidated by a pair of silly boys. Lifting her chin, she mustered her most scathing glare and shot it over her shoulder as blue lights cascaded off the stage onto the crowd. Take that!

Much to her annoyance, neither boy seemed to be paying attention. Oh, that’s just perfect. She arched an eyebrow. Both youths appeared to be entranced by what was happening on the stage. Actually, they were so stupefied that she started to wonder if they were all right. Then she realised how quiet the crowd was, aside from a few murmurs, even though the lights had come back on. Stephanie tilted her head and turned back around to see just what had everyone so entranced.

Her eyes fell upon the guitarist standing just a few yards ahead of her, and fire blazed down her spine. Her grip tightened on her bag as she stood, unable to move, gazing up at him. A cigarette hung loosely from his lush mouth as he furrowed his brow and propped his leg up on one of the speakers, plucking experimentally at the bright white guitar’s strings. The seams of his black Levi’s hugged his long legs and Stephanie gulped as her eyes devoured how the position caused his stomach and pelvic muscles to flex—stomach muscles that were framed by a beautiful leather jacket, and hips that were adorned with a shining, studded belt.

The blue lights showered his beautiful, strong features and Stephanie tried to swallow but couldn’t manage to even blink. All she could do was stand at the mercy of her ravenous gaze as it traced every curve of his strong cheekbones, straight nose, and perfect, creamy skin. The heat charging through her system warmed her until it seemed that the force of his presence would blister and burn. She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down, relishing the twinge of pain as it mixed with the absolute pleasure of the glamorous picture he made on stage.

Drums started pounding, the crowd started screaming, the bass slithered out of the speakers and he straightened, his fingers played over the gleaming silver strings. The sound and the music were lost upon her, but that didn’t matter because, once he lifted his gaze, his eyes—dark and solemn-looking—turning towards the crowd, she was lost.

Somewhere in her hazy mind, she knew she should move. She should blink. At the very least, she should breathe. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t move. Her limbs were too heavy under the admiration, the jealousy, the lust layering her very perception of the world.

With his black and white streaked hair, beautiful charcoal eyes, and the earrings adorning his ears and bottom lip, he looked like a bad influence, like a fallen angel who was too beautiful for hell… Like something she never, ever would’ve wanted for herself. But want him she did. Oh, Lord, did she want him.

Chapter Two

Mom. Mom. Mom!

Stephanie blinked and found herself standing in a bright, rapidly emptying auditorium. Hmm?

Mom? Amelia touched her shoulder. Are you okay?

Stephanie blinked, and realised with annoyance that her ears were ringing. Dear God, it was a wonder she hadn’t gone deaf. Pressing her fingers to the side of her head, she lifted her brows. What is it, sweetheart?

Uh… Amelia’s green eyes bounced from left to right. The concert’s over.

Oh. Stephanie glanced at her surroundings. The overhead lights had been turned on, illuminating every questionable thing littered across the floors, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Amelia waved her hand in front of her face. Mom.

Yes, dear. Stephanie blinked and tore her gaze away from the filth. Ready to go?

As in home? Um, no. She thumbed the edge of the plastic VIP card hanging around her neck. We have backstage passes, remember? This guy—she motioned to the security personnel—is going to escort us backstage to meet Snake Bite.

Next to her daughter and her friends stood a large, dark-skinned man dressed in a black T-shirt with the word ‘Security’ drawn across his pectorals in white letters. Stephanie looked down at the similar badge hanging around her neck and blinked rapidly. Oh, it never ends… She glanced at the other two girls, who currently had their hands full of T-shirts and autograph