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"Denny's been divorced once already and he acts as if his girlfriend is his world, but look at him now." She narrowed her eyes as Denny stopped to kiss the girl, skimming his hands over her ample breasts. The woman jerked his shirt out of pants and her hand went to his zipper. "Damn him for this. I really like his girlfriend, and she has a child. I'm never going to be able to look her in the eye again."

Men were dogs—all of them. Not a one could be trusted. Well, maybe her sisters's men, but not the ones Joley fell for. She liked them hard-edged and dangerous and that added up to... "No, not dogs, Steve. I like dogs and they're loyal. Snake is a better word for what men are."

"Maybe you shouldn't be here."

She detested the compassion in his voice. Her rapid rise to fame had created this situation, and now their lives were little more than tabloid fodder. She tried to steer the others away from the life, but it had been impossible when everything came so easy. And men like Sergei Nikitin knew how to use fame and popularity to get what he wanted. He'd supply the drugs and women and even the pictures for the tabloids if it furthered his own cause. And once he got his claws into a person&

"Men can be weak," Steve said.

So could women, Joley surmised. Or she wouldn't be here, chancing ruining her life. And for what? "That's just a cop out, Steve. Everyone has choices. And everyone ought to know what the people in their life are worth. And men should have more self respect—and honor—than to abuse the people who love them."

His gaze narrowed and Joley looked away from the mirror. She couldn't bear to see the knowledge in his eyes—or in her own that she was really talking about herself. How hypocritical was it to condemn Denny for making wrong choices when she'd probably come here for that very thing. She couldn't even bring herself to admit the truth, hedging in her mind, pretending it was to help Logan save his child when the real reason was purely selfish.

Her body was on fire. Hot. Needy. Ultra sensitive. Her nipples brushed her lacy bra and sent streaks of white lightning zigzagging through her body straight to her groin. Her body pulsed with life, with need, with want& Oh man did she want. She brushed a hand over her face to hide her expression from Steve.

A crush of what looked like teenage girls dressed in too-tight clothing, too much make-up and heels to make them look older came rushing around the walkway toward the front door. They were giggling loudly and pulling at their clothes, trying to look as if they belonged. Joley swore under her breath as memories flooded back. Young girls servicing band members and roadies. Groupies, looking to do anything with someone famous. Drugs and alcohol to deaden their inhibitions.

In the early days she had tried to stop it. Now she knew she couldn't. What others did and what they could live with was on them. The only stipulation she'd adamantly enforced was that any groupie had to be old enough. The girls didn't look it, but she was getting older and everyone seemed to look about thirteen to her these days. Maybe she was just jaded. Her manager and certainly the band would never break that one taboo, and risk losing everything.

The rush of excitement the show had produced drained away, even the fire racing through her veins, leaving her feeling tired. As if reading her thoughts, Steve cleared his throat and leaned out the window to get a better look at the girls.

"I swear, Miss Drake, looking at those girls, I'm feeling ancient. They look like they should be home playing with dolls."

"I must be ancient too," she conceded, watching as one of them broke away and dashed around the corner to hide in some bushes. The girl pulled out a cell phone and quickly made a call.

Her eyes were bright and she couldn't stop smiling, her excitement at the opportunity of mixing with the band members and all the celebrities at the party nearly palpable. She was pretty. Young. Even with the make-up she looked no more than fourteen. Innocent looking. Definitely in need of protection. The poor girl had no idea what she was getting into. Joley pushed the door open even wider and swung her feet out of the car.

"We're not supposed to tell anyone they're letting us in," one of the other girls called out. "You'll get us kicked out. They told us not to tell anyone."

Joley glanced at Steve. "That doesn't sound good. If someone told them not to tell, they have to be underage."

The girl with cell phone hastily snapped it closed and shoved it into her purse out of sight. "I left a message for my mother that I'd be late," she said and ran to join the group.

Joley got out of the car, frowning. She wouldn't have her band members or even the road crew picking up young teenagers. That was the one hard and fast rule the band had sworn never to break, and if any of them were a party to the invitation for the teens, they were gone. Just like that. She'd quit before she had this kind of thing going on and they knew it. She'd done it once and she'd walk away again. She could only hope her own crew had no idea who had been invited to this party. In any case, the teens had to leave immediately.

She took a couple of steps toward the group just as a limousine with tinted windows pulled up between her and the girls. Even as Joley started around the large vehicle, the door to the house swung open and several men came out. Joley recognized two of her roadies as they intercepted the girls. Relief flooded until one of them laughingly put his arm around the girl who had made the cell phone call. Fury swept through her. The girl couldn't be more than fourteen. He had to see that.

"Dean!" She shouted his name. He was so fired. If she had any clout in the industry, he would never work for anyone in the business.

Dean spun around, the smile slipping from his face. The other roadie half turned and then said something, throwing up the hood of his sweatshirt so she couldn't get a clear look at him. The girls instantly stopped laughing and ran around the corner of the house, both roadies and two other men following after them, urging them to hurry.

Brian Rigger, her best friend and lead guitarist, stepped out of the house, a frown on his face. He looked around as if a little bored and then over at her. A smile broke out in greeting. "Joley! When did you get here?"

"Just now, Brian. I saw Dean and some friend of his with some teenage girls." She had to shout to be heard above the noise of the music and party pouring out the open door. "They took off that way." She pointed, even as she tried to walk around the absurdly big car that had pulled up at an angle to her. "And I need to find Logan."

"He's not here. Gloria called Jerry shrieking at him to get Logan to the hospital. It's a big mess, apparently. Logan took off with Jerry."

Joley sighed. Of course Gloria would call the band's manager, Jerry St. Ives. And being nearly as psycho as her daughter, she wouldn't stop there. Logan had given her Joley's cell number to use in an emergency. Joley was so having the number changed immediately. "Well, I hope he has an attorney with him." She hadn't really needed to come at all. Now she didn't even have an excuse to be there. "Go find the teens, Brian and get rid of them."

"It's done," Brian assured and took off briskly in the direction she indicated.

Joley took a step to follow, but the door of the limousine swung open, blocking her path. She sent one panicked glance toward her driver before she composed herself and turned a look of sheer, utter contempt on the man who emerged from the back seat.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Nikitin's new playmate. RJ the Reverend. Or should I say the predator? I thought you'd be in jail by now."

Her heart was pounding too hard, so hard she was afraid she might have a heart attack. She didn't want to step back, or show fear, but as his bodyguards surrounded him, she moved to position her feet for better defense. Up on the balls of her feet slightly, shoulder width apart and one back, relaxed, one arm across her waist in a casual pose while the other hand was tucked under chin where she could use it to block any incoming punches. The tallest one was the most aggressive. He'd struck her once before, weeks earlier, and she kept a wary eye on him.

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