This Is Our Song Read online

  Riley Shaughnessy is an American singer-songwriter, record producer, philanthropist, and actor, best known as the founder and front man of the rock band Shaughnessy. During his career, he released four studio albums with his band, which to date have sold over fifty million albums worldwide, making them one of the world’s bestselling music artists. Currently Riley is embarking on a solo career.

  “Bor-ing.” Savannah sighed and then clicked through photos of Riley throughout his career. Tall, lanky, dark hair…all things she normally found very yummy in a man. So why did it make her almost want to sneer when it was this particular man? He had the look—the sexy grin, the earring, and probably had a tattoo. She snorted. “Typical rock star.”

  She skimmed the rest—four brothers, one sister. Mother dead, father alive. Grew up in North Carolina. No marriages. Just the basics.

  Savannah did a quick search to see what the rest of the boys in the band were doing while Riley was doing his solo thing. “Hmmm,” she began, unconsciously reading out loud, “Matt ‘Matty’ Reed is writing the music for a Broadway musical and starring in it. Not bad.”

  Scrolling down a bit, she continued. “Dylan Anders, the partier of the group, has been popping up onstage with various other artists…drunk. Lovely.” Scroll, scroll, scroll. “And last but not least…Julian Grayson.” She sat back and almost smiled. “Just got married and has a baby on the way. He’s taken up photography in his downtime and has no musical plans at the present.” She nodded with approval. “Good for him.”

  Okay, maybe this assignment wouldn’t be the worst thing…

  “Hey, Van,” Blake Jordan said as he sauntered by her desk—using the nickname he knew she hated. “Tough break about the Coldplay story. I promise I’ll give Chris and the boys your regards.”

  Once he was out of sight, she flipped him the bird. “Bite me.”

  Now she was even more ticked off than she had been five minutes ago. Knowing she wasn’t going to accomplish anything here, she closed her laptop and packed it up—along with a few other items—and made her way out to the parking lot. The sun was shining as she fished around in her oversized purse for her sunglasses. Sliding them on, she hastily combed her long black hair out of the way and trudged to her car, cursing Tommy, Blake, and Riley Shaughnessy the entire time.

  Once she climbed into her Jeep, Savannah secured her computer bag and purse and then pulled a clip out of the glove compartment and clipped up her hair. Driving such an open vehicle had become a love-hate relationship. Deep down, she loved her Jeep. It was her to a T. It just wasn’t conducive to her long hair. Luckily hers was pin-straight and it didn’t matter if the wind blew it or she clipped it up or threw a baseball cap over it, it was still going to look the same. And really, doing all those things was for her own safety—she’d learned relatively quickly that long hair, wind, and open sides on a vehicle were not a good combination.

  Never let it be said Savannah Daly needed a ton of bricks to fall on her.

  Pulling out onto the main strip, she began to drive aimlessly. It seemed too early to go home, but there wasn’t any place in particular she wanted to go. With a muttered curse, she forced herself to just drive for a while—to enjoy the sights and sounds of the city. Not that downtown L.A. was anything spectacular, but it had the potential to be a good distraction.

  An hour later, traffic was becoming more of an issue and Savannah decided she’d cooled off enough. She could go home and think about this new assignment without feeling an immediate urge to strangle someone. The next right turn would lead her to the freeway, which would take her home. Her stomach growled loudly and she cursed again. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…I was supposed to food shop yesterday,” she said.

  Knowing that shopping for groceries was even less appealing than doing research on Riley Shaughnessy, she stayed on the road and opted to find someplace to grab takeout.

  “All the usual suspects,” she murmured as she flew by restaurants and cafés. Did she really want to go home and eat? Shaking her head, Savannah knew at this rate with traffic, any food she purchased would be cold by the time she arrived at her home. That left a sandwich or salad to go or dining alone at the restaurant of her choice.

  Suddenly, the thought of a sandwich became really appealing. No need to go for anything fancy. She could grab a sandwich and maybe hit the beach. She’d driven far enough that she was minutes away from Hermosa Beach. “Okay, for once, my aimless driving has paid off.” Slowly, she drove through town and found a place to park. Grabbing her bags, Savannah felt at peace. The sun, the sand, the surf…and a sandwich. Not a bad way to spend the early evening hours. She was thankful for the currently cool California weather.

  With so many places to choose from and her stomach getting more and more vocal, she found a small bar and grille with outdoor seating facing the beach and opted to go there. A burger was just like a sandwich, wasn’t it? And sitting at a table was a bit more civilized than the sand. The hostess led her to a table for one, and Savannah smiled and got herself situated. It was tempting to take out her laptop and do some work, but she opted to go with just taking out her phone and checking email.

  She ordered her dinner and a drink and was happily scrolling through her inbox when someone slammed into the back of her chair, nearly causing her to drop her phone. There was no apology and Savannah turned around and glared at the culprit. The guy had his back to her and essentially had his chair right up against hers. Seriously? Was this guy for real?

  Unable to help herself, she nudged her chair back with a little more force than was probably necessary and waited to see if he’d acknowledge her now.

  He didn’t.

  He wore a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and a newspaper opened to the point where it was practically a wall; Savannah decided the guy was clearly a jerk. Rather than getting into a fight with him, she moved her chair around to another side of the table—and found herself still looking out at the beach. Smiling, she went back to her phone, pulled up the camera, and took a couple shots of the sun on the water. Yeah, it was beautiful and peaceful. There was a light breeze that felt glorious and…

  There was a newspaper in her face.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” she snapped as she peeled the paper from her face, crumpling it up. It didn’t matter if the wind blew and it was an accident, this guy was seriously messing with her peaceful evening and she was done playing nice. “Hey!” she said as she tapped the guy on the shoulder.

  He looked up at her, but between the sun and the cap basically shielding his face, Savannah had no idea what the guy looked like.

  “Seriously, you bang into my chair, your newspaper blows in my face, and you can’t be bothered with an apology?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

  “Um…sorry,” he mumbled and took the crumpled paper from her hands and turned back to his table.

  “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

  Without turning around, he said, “You asked for an apology and I gave you one.”

  Well damn. He had her there. “Oh yeah… Well…fine. Just…keep your crap on your table, okay? I’m trying to relax over here.” When he made no further comment, Savannah went back to her seat. Within minutes, her meal was in front of her and she felt all the tension leaving her body—a good burger could do that for a girl.

  And the fries were damn near orgasmic.

  She let out a little moan of pleasure and noticed Mr. Personality was staring at her. She saw he hadn’t ordered any food yet. The waitress had inquired several times, but he continued to send her away.

  His loss.

  When she looked over and saw he was still staring, she put her burger down and stared back. “Problem?”

  He shook his head. “I was just wondering what you ordered that had you sounding like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Really?” he said with what sounded suspic
iously like sarcasm.

  Rolling her eyes, she motioned to her plate. “Bacon cheeseburger—pepper jack cheese, avocado…the works. And fries.” She picked one up. “These are the culprits. They’re so good they should be illegal.”

  He chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe french fries that way.”

  “Trust me.”

  “I guess I’ll have to,” he said and for a minute, he just sat back and smiled at her.

  “Look…um… Can you turn around? You know, go back to your reading? You’re starting to freak me out. And besides, didn’t your parents ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

  He laughed again. “As a matter of fact they have. But I wasn’t a very good listener.”

  “So it’s a lifelong problem?”

  “Tell you what, you let me have one of your moan-inducing fries and I’ll go back to reading my paper and leave you alone.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  He nodded. “Scout’s honor.”

  Somehow she couldn’t envision this guy ever having been a Boy Scout, but whatever. Watching him warily, she picked up a fry and held it out for him. “One fry and then you turn back around so I can eat without an audience, right?”

  He nodded again when suddenly the wind picked up, and in the blink of an eye, Savannah’s napkin blew off her lap. She bent over to reach it at the same time he bent over to help her. Their heads bumped and with a startled “ow” coming from both of them, Savannah reached up to touch her head. On the ground was his baseball cap. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach for it. After she had her napkin safely back in place, she realized she was still holding the french fry.

  “Hey, aren’t you gonna…” She looked up and gasped.

  Staring back at her was none other than Riley Shaughnessy.

  Chapter 2

  Riley knew the instant she recognized him. Sure, she tried to cover it up quickly, but he saw the flash of recognition and now scrambled to put his hat back on, cursing himself for indulging in this silly bantering. He couldn’t say why he had wanted to eat out, but after his afternoon with Mick, he had needed to get out and get some air.

  Should have just driven around with the windows down.

  With his hat pulled back down, he mumbled his thanks and took the fry before turning around. If he was lucky, this would be the end of their conversation, and she wouldn’t feel the need to point out who he was or whether she was a fan.

  The nonfans were the hardest to deal with. No one really needed to hear how much someone disliked them, but on more than one occasion people had stopped him specifically to tell him how much they hated his music. Keeping a smile in place was always his go-to response even when he felt like lashing out. He’d seen too many celebrities respond badly only to have the entire incident on the front page of some newspaper or magazine the next day. Riley’s motto was to only let them see him smile.

  He settled back in his seat, and when the waitress returned, he gave her his order—a bacon cheeseburger and fries—and thanked her. For some reason, he was sure the woman sitting behind him was smirking. Burgers weren’t his usual choice when he dined out—it could get messy and, again, didn’t make for good photo ops—but when she had described her meal, his mouth had watered.

  Or maybe just looking at her had done it to him.

  Her eyes were such an odd shade of blue that they almost looked violet. Added to a beautiful face, jet black hair, and lips that…well…he’d be wise not to let his thoughts go there while out in public. Yeah, it was safer just to say she was attractive.

  Okay, very attractive.

  And in different circumstances he’d probably flirt with her a bit before asking to join her at her table. But his mood was just off, and he knew he wouldn’t be good company for anyone. Hell, he could barely stand himself anymore.

  Behind him, he heard her thank the waitress and ask for the check. The urge to turn around again and talk to her was pretty strong. It had been a while since he’d been interested in a woman—probably because he just wasn’t feeling particularly good about himself. But this woman? The one with all the attitude? Riley thought he wouldn’t mind getting to know more about her.

  The waitress returned with his dinner, and Riley thought it might be cute if he turned around and offered one of his fries to the woman. But when he went to do it, she was already gone. Damn. He hadn’t heard her get up and leave.

  He looked at his dinner and sighed. It did look good. Too good to waste because he was feeling sorry for himself. Again. Pulling it back toward him, he picked up the burger and took a bite.

  And moaned.

  She was right. It was a good choice for a meal.

  And then he cursed himself again for not taking a chance in getting to know her better. Or at least finding out her name.

  * * *

  Savannah overtipped the waitress in her haste to leave. The service was good, but the waitress certainly didn’t deserve a seventy-five percent tip!

  “Dammit,” she cursed as she quickly walked along the sidewalk, anxious to put as much distance as she could between her and Riley Shaughnessy.

  Okay, maybe she was being a little dramatic. He had no idea who she was, and she hadn’t given him any obvious indication she’d recognized him so they were cool. Hopefully by the time she was forced to sit down with him, he wouldn’t remember they’d met before. Not that they’d met, but…

  So maybe getting up and walking away wasn’t the best way to handle the situation. And if she was being honest with herself, she did it more for him than for her. The guy deserved to have a meal in peace without the press pouncing on him—especially after everything she’d learned from Tommy today. It was better this way. She’d noticed the flash of panic on his face when his hat had come off, and she was pretty sure he’d been wondering if she was a fan or someone who was going to bug him. So she’d clammed up and left. They’d have a clean start when the interview was officially scheduled.

  “Ugh. Enough,” she muttered to herself as she approached the beach. She was far enough away from the restaurant where she felt good about kicking off her shoes and walking in the sand. True, lugging her giant purse and laptop wasn’t much fun but to be able to sit and watch the sunset seemed like a great way to end the day.

  Trudging out so she was midway between the sidewalk and the surf, Savannah pulled a sweatshirt out of her bag and put it down on the sand. Once she got comfortable, she pulled her laptop out, took a deep breath—taking in the amazing scent of the ocean—and let it out slowly. It took all of thirty seconds for her to realize that the wind, sand, and her laptop did not make a good combination. With a sigh, she stuffed the computer back in the bag and decided to just relax.

  “Yeah,” she purred. The beach was her happy place. Someday she’d have a place of her own where she could have a view of the ocean whenever she wanted it. Or the mountains. Savannah had to admit they had some good qualities she enjoyed too. If only there was a beach with mountains nearby, she’d be set.

  For about thirty minutes, Savannah was content to sit and listen to the waves crashing. One minute everything was peaceful, the next all hell had broken loose. A rumble of thunder and a flash of lightning had Savannah springing into action. She pulled her sweatshirt on, put the hood up, and began to jog back to her Jeep. With any luck she could get there before the rain came down too hard.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one going in that direction, and there was a brief moment of panic when she almost got caught up in the mob and knocked off her feet. Quickly dodging to the right when everyone went to the left, she picked up her pace and made it to her Jeep just as the sky seemed to open up.

  “Thank God for small favors,” she said with relief as she climbed in and closed the sides. She was slightly sweaty and out of breath, but she was glad to have cover now that the rain was really coming down. I
t didn’t make any sense to try to pull out of the parking spot just yet—it seemed like dozens of people were doing the same thing—so she waited.

  The windshield wipers were swishing back and forth, and Savannah simply sat back and people watched for a few minutes. And then she found herself looking at one person.

  Riley.

  He was standing at the front of her Jeep, looking a little lost. He hadn’t noticed her—or at least he hadn’t acknowledged her sitting there. A small part of her wanted to hit the horn and make him jump, but she couldn’t do it. The image, however, made her giggle.

  For another minute, she just watched him curiously. Why wasn’t he going to his car? Was he looking for someone? His driver? And then, as if it were happening in slow motion, she noticed there was suddenly a crowd around him. Girls were screaming his name, and in the quick glimpse she got of him before he was surrounded, she noticed a look of pure panic on his face.

  She should have pulled away sooner.

  She should have taken her chances with the traffic jam.

  The crowd seemed to be a little overzealous, and Savannah felt an uncharacteristic, overwhelming need to help him. The Jeep was running, and most of the cars that had been around her a few minutes ago were gone. She opened her door, stood on the side step, and called his name.

  “Riley!” Unable to believe he heard her over the crowd, she was shocked when he looked up and caught her eye. “Get in!” she cried.

  He broke through the crowd and grabbed the passenger side door like a lifeline. He swung inside at the same time she did, and she threw the car in reverse and took off across the lot. He was breathing hard, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. “Thanks,” he said after a minute.

  “Don’t mention it. That looked a little brutal.”

  “I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t think anyone recognized me.” He turned his head and looked at her. “Except for you during dinner.”