Book 2 in the Rocking Romance series
It was one of those mornings for newspaper-writer/photographer Hope Creswell. The alarm clock didn’t go off and she cut her finger on broken glass. Not one to let such things get her down, Hope headed into her assignment meeting with excitement, only to leave it stunned. Her new assignment is to trail the sensational rock-star, Chase Hatton, for an article. Chase Hatton! No one knows the power that name holds for her. No one knows of the childhood friendship that blossomed into romance, only to abruptly die on the night of Hope’s senior prom. No one knows of the ache that still fills her heart.
What starts out for Chase Hatton as an average publicity trip to Chicago suddenly becomes complicated when his manager tells him that Hope Creswell will be interviewing him in the morning. He had spent eight years trying to forget Hope, and now she would be in his penthouse in a matter of hours?
When Chase opens the door to his penthouse and finds Hope on the opposite side, his heart begins beating a rhythm the rocker has yet to capture in any of his music. The smoldering embers of their former romance are fanned by their mere proximity. Will they both be burned again? Can Hope ever trust her heart to Chase after what he did? Can Chase bear to see her walk out on him a second time? And what about Hope’s boyfriend, Phillip? Where does he fit into the picture that Hope is developing?
Hope couldn’t help but notice the muscles on Chase’s arms tightening as he played, his skin tanned from hours at the pool. He shook hair out of his eyes with a smile, and she felt her insides melt like the cheese oozing out of a grilled cheese sandwich.
She had a knack for hitting the ball just close enough to knick the table before it tumbled out of bounds. Chase found he had his hands full, as the same twist of the wrist that sent a volleyball spinning, also sent a table tennis ball spiraling out of control. Add to this the fact that he seemed distracted at times. She served and his reaction was just a tad slow as the ball hit the paddle, sending it into the net.
“Ohhh!” he groaned.
She grinned. “15-16.” The next serve he didn’t have a chance at.
“Geez! What was that?” Chase exclaimed as the ball whizzed past him.
“16 all!” As she moved she felt something flap against her ankle. She tried to reach down and feel along the side of her sandal, hopping a little to keep her balance.
“What are you doing?”
“My sandal strap came undone.” She set her paddle down and bent to fix it, and he went to retrieve the ball from where it had rolled behind a rake. After he scooped it up, his gaze swept across the floor under the table to where she curled her leg up to fiddle with the buckle. She caught his eye.
“Ouch!” he muttered under his breath with a half whistle.
They both straightened up, gazing across the table into each other’s eyes.
He grinned. “Nothing.” He bounced the ball to her.
She held the ball to the paddle. “Ready?”
The battle raged back and forth until Chase stood ready to serve, the score 24-25, in Hope’s favor. Game point. But she could tell by the determined expression on his face that he wasn’t about to quit.
“You stick your tongue out when you’re concentrating.”
“I do not!”
“Yes, you do. It’s cute.”
She felt her cheeks get hot. “You’re just trying to distract me.” She shifted her feet from side to side like she did on the volleyball court, her paddle poised.
“Darned right I am! I can’t let myself get beat by a girl.”
Before he had even finished his sentence, Chase tried to zing the ball past her, but Hope’s reactions were too quick. With a flourish, she returned the ball, hitting it off the side of the table for the final time as she scored the winning point. She hooted and hollered, enjoying an elaborate victory dance on her side of the garage. Chase laid both hands on the table, appearing exasperated. Catching his glare, she stopped dancing.
“Oh. That wasn’t very sportsmanlike of me was it?” She grinned. “Oh well!” And with that she started dancing triumphantly again.