Karyn Gerrard - Heart of Rock

Byrne wouldn't have a record, and she was relieved. He was on probation and had to pay a small fine. The judge also issued a stern warning. Byrne said he would tell her more when she arrived. She had packed a small overnight bag, wishful thinking perhaps as he had given no invitation for her to stay. There were lots of hotels along the highway, and she didn't fancy a three-hour drive home in the dark.

"(I've Been) Searching so Long" by Chicago played on the radio. The ballad was perfect background music for her thoughts. She had been searching for an answer. Just what were her feelings toward Byrne? Carly had thought of little else since they parted. Maybe it meant more to her than it did him. He was a man, after all, and a rock star. She'd never had these feelings before, the need to be with someone always and to protect them and to care.

Fate could be cruel. The next song was Byrne 'N' Flame's rock ballad "I'm on Fire." She had purposely avoided Byrne's music since they parted. His crystal clear voice soared and cut her heart clean in two. She wiped the tears from her eyes. Damn him for making her feel.

"The time is now, how I need you, love…" A sob escaped her lips. She reached to snap the radio off, but she couldn't. His voice had her in a trance. How many women did he do this to? It certainly explained why he was famous, why women fell at his feet, and why she had walked away. She had to protect her heart. As soon as he called and asked her to come to his beach house, Carly found she couldn't say no. He had things to discuss. He wouldn't elaborate. Damn her curious nature, but she had to know.

She picked up the piece of paper she had scribbled directions to his house on. After a multitude of twists and turns she was on a private drive sitting before an imposing wrought iron gate. Carly turned off the motor, climbed out of the car and hit the buzzer on the intercom.

"Yes?"

Oh, there was no mistaking his sinful, melting chocolate voice. "It's Carly—Carly Montgomery." She cringed, like who else would it be unless Carly Simon came to call. Wouldn't be surprised.

"Come ahead."

The high-pitched buzzer nearly burst her eardrum, so she scrambled back into the car and started the motor as the gates rumbled open. She drove up the hill and gasped as the house came into view. The home wasn't overly large but was very impressive. The two-story building had a light gray brick exterior. Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded most of the lower level. The structure had a sloping white roof, and overlooked the ocean. The grounds were immaculate. Obviously a landscaping crew tended to the property. She pulled in next to a dark green MGB and turned off her motor. Carly took a couple of deep breaths, and then slowly exhaled. Yeah, she was nervous. Maybe he'd called her here to dump her as his manager.

She shook her head, grabbed her purse, and climbed out of the car. The sounds of the ocean and the bracing salt air breeze slammed her senses as soon as she opened the car door. God, she loved the sea. She headed toward the double door entrance, her heels clicking on the marble walkway. Before she could even knock, one of the white wood doors swung open. Carly gasped aloud. She hardly recognized Byrne. The shoulder-length white and black hair was no more. He had it cut into a long shag that stopped at his collar. The hair was a glorious deep brunet, the color of freshly brewed coffee. He wore crisply pressed dark brown slacks with russet dress boots. A white shirt lay open halfway down his chest, while a beige wool cardigan sweater completed the neat, casual appearance. His signature Celtic cross dangled between his impressive pectorals. He had put on a few healthy pounds. Gone was the haunted, gaunt look he'd had on tour.

Look at him with the cardigan sweater and hair. He resembles a sexy professor . She couldn't help but smile.

"You look good, Byrne. More relaxed than I've ever seen you. This button-down college thing works for you."

"You think? It will do for now." Byrne grinned.

He appeared the furthest thing from a rock star. In fact she couldn't think of him as Byrne any longer. He was Brogan. Always Brogan. He made no move to embrace her. Instead he held out his arm to escort her. She took it. Her skin started to sizzle as it always did when she touched him, even through the damned wool.

Brogan led her into a large living room. The wall facing the ocean consisted of windows, and the scenery was breathtaking to observe. The furniture was sparse and the decoration minimal. It was obvious he didn't spend much time here. The room was tastefully furnished in a modern look with black leather sofa, chairs, and silver space-age lighting. A solitary framed gold record hung above the gray stone fireplace.

Carly sat on the plush leather sofa, and Brogan sat next to her. She clasped her hands as they started to shake, not like her at all.

"I've missed you."

His words were stark, affecting, and honest. How tempting to say the words right back but her cautious heart wouldn't allow it. Carly crossed a line. She had sworn she would never become personally involved with her clients. One touch, one kiss from the Irish rock god, and she had melted. She would ask Nigel to assign her elsewhere. She should have done it right after the tour. Hell, she should have done it the first time they kissed.

"You have? You even missed all the bossy nagging? I can scarcely believe it." She tried to keep her voice light and teasing, but it wasn't working.

"Maybe I need your bossy nagging. I like a lass with spunk."

"You really do look good, Brogan. Healthy, vigorous, and calm. Definitely at peace."

"Ah, so I am Brogan now? I like that. Not sure about the peace part, but I'm working on it. I've been in therapy these last months."

Really? What a surprise… but, it was the fashionable thing. "It's helped, then?"

Brogan gazed out the window toward the gray, overcast skies and tumultuous ocean. "Aye. I carry a shite load of guilt. I am learning to deal with it and forgive myself. I want to tell you, but I know I'll wind up sounding like some weak-arsed wanker."

His honest, deeply felt words cut clean to her soul. So much for remaining detached, professional, and for trying to guard her heart. With two fingers she touched under his chin and turned him back to face her.

"I want to know."

Brogan grasped her fingers and laid a warm kiss on them. He clasped her hand tightly as if she were a lifeline. "It's a long story. I was in Belfast in the summer of seventy…"

She listened. Carly was riveted and moved to tears.

"Tarrah died because of me. She stepped in front of me and took the brunt of the knife attack. Then she died in my arms. I loved her, and I couldn't protect her. I can't live with her sacrifice. I'm not worth her giving up her life for."

"So you let your life become worthless."

"Aye, I used the sex and stimulants as an excuse not to feel and to sink into a rubbish life. It is what I deserved. Pathetic, I know. The drug arrest was the final straw."

"Did Nevan go with you to Toronto?"

"Aye, and Reese and Abbie."

Abbie? The Malibu Barbie girlfriend? He was back with her? An ice pick slid into her heart. The pain was intense, and she struggled to hide the devastating ache.

"I see," she said coldly.

Brogan smiled. "No, darlin', I don't think you do see. Abbie and Reese are dating. It's very serious. She will be going back to Dublin with him in January. They've both forgiven me and Nevan as well. It's more than I deserve. Abbie and Reese are better suited."

The relief made her giddy. A couple of hoarse giggles escaped her lips. "Sorry," she whispered. "Brogan, why am I here?"

He reached for her other hand and held them both tight. "You understand why I needed this time to be alone, to regroup and to heal?"