Free Love Revolution (Black Cat Records Shakespeare Inspired trilogy) by Michelle Mankin

at his words. He tucked her face gently into his chest while he held her. She could hear his heart beat thumping loudly beneath her ear as the embrace lingered.
    When he finally released her, he rocked back on his heels to look at her. “Sam, this thing with us, the way I feel about you, it scares the hell out of me. I’ve never felt this way before.” He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips, once, then twice, his green eyes burning into hers. “Never.”

Frowning, Sara strode purposefully down the corridor at Black Cat, her boots trodding soundlessly over the carpeted runner. Its grey color matched her disposition. Conflicting thoughts clattered around loudly inside her head. She was not in the mood to deal with Chris again so soon after “the kiss.”
    The kiss wasn’t something she’d been able to get out of her mind. He’d gotten to her, alright, but he didn’t have to seem so damn proud about it. And so what if she treated him a little harshly afterward. Chris was an adult. He could take it.
    Besides, she had other more serious concerns. For one thing, waiting for news about her father’s parole put her on continual edge. Then there was Sam. Though she was warming, however slightly, to the idea of JR dating her sister, there was no changing who he was…the playboy prince of rock ‘n roll royalty, Brutal Strength.
    Sighing, she tried to rub the tension from her stiff neck. Sam was already beyond head over heels for him. The man could be charming, but he was erratic and unpredictable. She wondered what would happen in a couple of weeks when the band went on tour. He could crush her like a bug with one thoughtless fling with a groupie. Prince to knave in a downbeat.
    Sara stuttered and stopped outside recording room four. Though larger than the room she had met Chris in the other day, it was similarly equipped with a soundboard, stacks of amps, a couple of mics, and an old worn out couch seeming out of place in the corner. He was already inside. Shit. Straightening her shoulders, she walked in, trying to look unruffled.
    “Hey, Sara.” Chris glanced up and beamed his famous smile. “Good to see you.”
    Her jaw dropped. Knowing she was tardy for the session, she had been primed for a smart ass comment from him. “Sorry I’m late,” she muttered.
    “No problem, Sara… no problem at all.”
    He stood, took her guitar case from her hand, and set it down on a side table while she continued to stand there, like a half wit, completely confused by his behavior. Why was he being so polite?
    “I’m glad you were able to make it,” he continued, turning back to her and giving her another smile. “Take your time getting warmed up. Do you want me to go get you a soda or something?”
    Her brow furrowed. Surely this was a practical joke at her expense, payback for the kiss thing. She turned around in a circle scanning the room, fully expecting someone to jump out and tell her she’d been punked. When no one did, her mind scrambled for more farfetched explanations. She wondered a bit hysterically if Chris’ body had been snatched by an alien. Completely off balance like a hapless protagonist in a Twilight Zone episode, Sara staggered over to the couch and sank down onto it. The whole time, she felt Chris’ eyes on her.
    “Hey, are you ok?” he asked, touching her arm.
    Numbly, she nodded. “I’ll take that soft drink right now, if you’re still offering.”
    “Sure. I’ll be right back.” He patted her arm and moved toward the door.
    “Ok, I give, Chris.” Curiosity was killing her. He stopped in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder, smiling…again. She wanted to throw something at him.
    “What are you talking about?”
    “Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she demanded.
    “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked with a shrug before turning away.
    Ughh. Enough already. What the hell? She was actually starting to wish for the return of the sarcastic, flirty, always ready to