couple of regulars were engrossed in a card game and didn’t look up as Torque approached the bar. Another guy, whose name he couldn’t remember, nodded a greeting. A few others didn’t even turn their heads. Since there was no sign of Doug, the bartender, Torque leaned on the bar, content to enjoy the atmosphere. It was the complete opposite of many of the places he visited with Beast, lacking the crowds, the noise level, the darkened corners and gimmicks. Torque’s moods were mercurial, but right now laid-back and quaint was what suited him.
Doug appeared from the storeroom at the back. “That’s about it.” The words were addressed over his shoulder to the woman who followed him.
As she emerged fully from the room and Torque got a good look at her, he had the feeling of time standing still. Dressed casually in jeans and a white linen blouse, she was of average height and slender build...and everything about her took his breath away. She had thick golden hair that bounced on her shoulders, an impudent, button nose and full ruby-red lips. Aware that he was staring, and that his interest was being returned by a pair of huge emerald-green eyes, he roused himself from his trance.
“Hi, Doug.” He winced at a greeting that felt lame, mainly because he hadn’t withdrawn his gaze from the bartender’s companion.
Doug didn’t seem to notice. “The usual?” He held up a tankard and Torque nodded. “Did I tell you I’m finally taking that leave of absence so I can go traveling? This is my replacement...”
The woman at Doug’s side gave Torque a shy smile. It made him want to leap across the bar to get closer to her.
“Hi, I’m Hollie Br...” She caught her breath, bringing a hand up to her throat with a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a fan of yours forever. That’s why I can’t even remember my own name. I’m Hollie Brown.”
* * *
That’s why I can’t even remember my own name? Ten minutes later and Hollie could still feel the blush burning her cheeks. How to blow her cover before she even got started. One look from Torque’s unusual eyes and she had almost blurted out her real name. Not that he appeared to have noticed. He was still glancing her way every now and then, but the looks he was giving her didn’t seem suspicious.
He seemed... Now that she gave it some thought, she wasn’t sure how he seemed. Bemused? That might explain the tiny crease at the corner of his mouth when he stared at her. Nervous? How was that even possible? This was a man used to performing before thousands, even tens of thousands, of adoring fans. What was there about this situation that could possibly make him experience the same fumbling awkwardness she was feeling? Even so, his hand shook ever so slightly as he raised his glass to his lips. Most of all, Torque’s expression was that of a man about to step over a boundary into the unknown. It was fear and excitement in equal measures.
Was it possible she was projecting her own emotions at this first meeting on to him? When she told him she had been a fan forever, it was the truth. Her love of Beast had always centered on Torque. For someone as grounded as Hollie, her adoration of a rock star had always been a slight annoyance to her. It almost felt out of character, like something she should have been above. And that starstruck sensation when she had gone to their concerts and seen him onstage? So not me. Even though he had been a speck in the distance, the pull of attraction had been so strong it had brought tears to her eyes.
To come face-to-face with her idol in these circumstances was the ultimate irony. To feel that same attraction up close, while under pressure to do her job...no wonder she was having trouble thinking straight. As she performed the routine tasks behind the bar under Doug’s supervision, her stomach was churning and her hands were clammy.
Hollie had never worked undercover, and once McLain had decided to place Torque under surveillance, things had moved fast. Checking out the area around his home, local agents had come back with information that the owner of Torque’s favorite bar was a former cop. If they could get someone in there, right up close to their target, just for a few days... Someone who could observe a celebrity rock star without arousing his suspicion...
“Have you ever worked in a bar?” McLain’s sharp eyes had narrowed as she studied Hollie’s face.
“I had a summer job when I was studying...” She had caught the trend of her chief’s thoughts and trailed off. “No way.” Blatant insubordination was not her style, but this was out-and-out crazy. “You need an experienced undercover agent.”
“I need someone who knows the Incinerator. You’ve worked this case from the start, Hollie.” Things were serious when McLain used her first name. “You understand everything about our fire starter.” McLain had flipped over a sheet of paper. “This John ‘Torque’ Jones. You also know about him. This is highly sensitive. If we screw this up, the press will be screaming harassment of a superstar and the Incinerator case will become public property. No one else can replicate your intuition about this. I want you to get up close to Torque and find out if there’s a chance he’s our guy.”
Get up close to Torque? Hollie was twenty-eight years old, but that instruction still made her heart rate soar as if she were nineteen and attending her first Beast concert. She told herself those words had nothing to do with why she was here. She was a professional. Catching the deadly arsonist whose trail of destruction had led to billions of dollars’ worth of damage and more than twenty deaths was all that mattered. That was why she had agreed to McLain’s request. For the next few weeks, she wasn’t Agent Hollie Brennan, Chief Fire Investigator. Instead, she was Hollie Brown, bartender.
As she felt Torque’s eyes following her, she thought back to her eighteen-year-old self. How often had she gazed at the image on the cover of Fire and Fury, Beast’s most successful album? It depicted the band in evening dress, all of them looking glamorous as hell and slightly debauched, as though the shot had been taken the morning after a heavy night. While the others were pictured leaning against a whitewashed wall, bow ties hanging loose and hands thrust into dinner jacket pockets, it was always Torque who drew her gaze.
In the picture, he was apart from his bandmates, half sitting, half lying on a set of stone steps. With his flame-red hair tossed over one shoulder, bronzed skin tones and long legs encased in daringly tight black pants, he could have been a fashion model. The black top hat he wore was tilted low, its shadow concealing the upper part of his face, but his beautiful mouth and chiseled jaw were visible. His hands were raised as though his long fingers were strumming an invisible guitar. It was a stunning, iconic image.
The man who tilted his empty glass toward her now with a raised brow wore torn, faded jeans and work boots. His black T-shirt clung lovingly to his biceps and emphasized his dramatic coloring. Even in everyday clothing, Torque was breathtaking. Even with his features that looked like they had been lovingly carved by the hand of a master sculptor, it was still his eyes that drew her attention. Just when they appeared a nondescript gray, the light caught the multicolored moonstone flecks in their depths, making them shimmer like opals in sunlight.
Those eyes watched her again from beneath heavy lids as she refilled his glass. “What brings you to Addison?”
Keep it simple. That was what the veteran undercover agent who had given her an intense induction course had told her. Vince King had coached her in every aspect of the role, going over and over what she needed to know until she was word perfect. Stick to a short, basic story and don’t elaborate.
“I like Maine. I thought it would be a nice place to spend the summer.” She smiled. “Don’t worry. Although I’m a fan, I’m not a stalker.”
She’d seen his smile on her TV and laptop, on the pages of magazines,
