Rock Star's Baby_An Older Man Younger Woman Romance Read online

  ROCK STAR’S BABY

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 60

  FLORA FERRARI

  CONTENTS

  Copyright

  A Man Who Knows What He Wants Series

  Rock Star's Baby

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Series

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2018 by Flora Ferrari.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  Book 1: Baby Lust

  Book 2: Veteran

  Book 3: Built

  Book 4: Bambino

  Book 5: Rescued

  Book 6: Leader

  Book 7: Professor

  Book 8: Burned

  Book 9: Worldly

  Book 10: Pistol

  Book 11: Policed

  Book 12: Driven

  Book 13: Lucky 13

  Book 14: Lumberjacked

  Book 15: Protector

  Book 16: Carpenter

  Book 17: Italian Stallion

  Book 18: Gardener

  Book 19: Budapest Billionaire’s Virgin

  Book 20: Billionaire’s Babysitter

  Book 21: Cocky CFO

  Book 22: Fireman’s Filthy 4th

  Book 23: Mechanic

  Book 24: SEAL’s Secret

  Book 25: Police, Pooch, and Smooch

  Book 26: Fireman’s Fake Fiancée

  Book 27: Billionaire’s Virgin Ballerina

  Book 28: Bitcoin Billionaire’s Babysitter

  Book 29: Veterans Day Daddy

  Book 30: Cowboy’s Christmas Carol

  Book 31: Police Officer’s Princess

  Book 32: Statham

  Book 33: Bodyguard

  Book 34: Greek God

  Book 35: Billionaire Single Dad's Babysitter

  Book 36: Mountain Man

  Book 37: SEAL’s Justice

  Book 38: Royal Romance

  Book 39: Doctor Mountain Man’s Special Delivery

  Book 40: Crocodile Dan D

  Book 41: Mountain Man’s Secret Baby

  Book 42: Doctor Bad Boy’s Secret Baby

  Book 43: Cop’s Babysitter

  Book 44: Nanny for the Cop Next Door

  Book 45: Small Town SEAL’s Saving Grace

  Book 46: Cop’s Fake Fiancée

  Book 47: Billionaire’s Nanny

  Book 48: Cowboy’s Babysitter

  Book 49: Steamy

  Book 50: Brother’s Best Friend

  Book 51: Possessive Professor

  Book 52: Firefighter’s Babysitter

  Book 53: Soldier’s Secret Baby

  Book 54: Ward’s Independence Day

  Book 55: Doctor Next Door

  Book 56: Possessive Policeman

  Book 57: Coached by the MMA Fighter

  Book 58: Boss’s Babysitter

  Book 59: Virgin in New York

  Book 60: Rock Star’s Baby

  ROCK STAR’S BABY

  Dad’s best friend from California is a rock hard rock star older man who’s tall, tanned, and totally been my ultimate crush for years.

  When he’s not surfing the shores of Southern California he’s singing with his band on a world tour…which leads him to my state and a visit to our small town to hang out with our family for a week to recharge his batteries.

  It’s the first time I’ve seen him in years and it’s time for another first time that I’ve been saving especially for him.

  But if this rock star rocks my world will his tour bus pull out in the morning or will I get to sing the perfect duet on the beaches of sunny California with a baby from my dad’s bronzed best buddy…forever?

  *Rock Star’s Baby is an insta-everything standalone romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

  CHAPTER 1

  Hope

  “Oh my god, is that him?” my little sister Harley says as I hear her hands press on the window next to mine.

  But it’s not just my hands that are touching the glass. I’ve had my nose glued to it hiding behind the curtains all day awaiting his arrival.

  Hendrix Hart.

  He’s the lead singer for A School of Sharks. They’re like A Flock of Seagulls but without keyboards and with tans.

  I shoot Harley a dirty look reminding her I’ve got dibs.

  She knows Hendrix has been my secret crush for the last four years now.

  Only one problem. He’s not here to visit me. He’s my dad’s best friend and he’s here to recharge his batteries with his boyhood buddy.

  Which explains why the forty-two year old blonde haired and blue eyed heartthrob will be staying at our house for an entire week in-between finishing up the international leg of his world tour and starting the U.S. portion next week in California.

  And Hendrix is definitely a California guy.

  I watch as he steps down onto the sidewalk in front of our house and watch as the door to the bus closes and the air brake releases.

  The bus slowly rolls down our street as Hendrix cooly makes his way up the sidewalk to our home.

  He’s got that laid back California swagger in spades at least on the outside. My dad always says don’t let his easy-going demeanor fool you. When he sees something he wants he goes for it with everything he’s got. It’s one of the reasons why his band has been so successful for so long and why their tour is on pace to break the concert records set by the Rolling Stones.

  I’ve been following along every day. They rocked Rome. Sold out Sydney in seconds. And blasted their instruments in Barcelona.

  Even with my subscription to their website which allows me to watch all their concerts live online I still can’t get enough of Hendrix. And with the time change I’ve found myself taking naps so I could stay up at all kinds of weird hours this summer.

  Just to see him perform.

  There’s just something about the electricity in his voice. The way he makes you feel like you’re there…like you know him. And when he sings I feel like he’s singing to me.

  Me and probably about a billion other girls have the same feeling I’m sure, but I’m the one who gets to have him in my home all week and that’s way more than I could have ever hoped for…if I’m being realistic.

  “You’re still hoping he’s going to notice you and something’s going to happen?” Harley says.

  “Shhh!” I say slapping her on the arm.

  I watch Hendrix scale our front steps with my dad’s arm around his shoulder. I just can’t take my eyes off of him.

  When I hear the front door open I qui
ckly scurry out from behind the curtains just in time to see his eyes pick up the sounds of my movement.

  I watch as his guitar case falls from his hand like it’s in slow motion. It hits our cheap carpeting and then the hinges pop open and the guitar falls onto the floor.

  “Oh!” my mom, Samantha says, and bends down to quickly put the guitar back in its case.

  Hendrix doesn’t even seem to notice or mind that his priceless possession has fallen from his hands.

  All he seems to notice is…me!

  CHAPTER 2

  Hendrix

  Steven’s wife Samantha is doing something at my feet right now, not that I notice.

  I should probably bend down and pick up the guitar I dropped, it’s not her fault or her job to be doing that. It’s mine. Plus the thing is tuned just the way I like it and it’s easy to get it out of tune by handling it.

  But right now there’s something a lot more out of tune than my guitar probably is.

  Me.

  And the only thing I want to handle is her.

  “Hope,” I say, still staring at her. I can’t take my eyes off hers, not that I’d ever want to. Those are the kinds of eyes that drive a man to write songs that sell out stadiums and move mountains. The kind of eyes that you never forget. The kind of eyes that serve as a songwriter’s muse.

  The kind of muse I’ve always wanted but have never ever had. I was starting to think the idea of an artist’s muse was only a myth…until right now.

  “Hope?” my buddy Steven says.

  “Hope you’ll…forgive me for dropping that. The case might leave a dent in the floor.”

  “It’s carpet. Don’t worry,” Steven says.

  I can feel Steven’s eyes on me but I don’t turn to meet his. I’m still focused on her.

  “You remember our daughters Hope and Harley,” he says.

  That’s definitely not how I remember Hope.

  Four years ago she must have been what? Eighteen.

  She was a cute kid for sure but she had braces and her legs were too big for her body. She was either going to be a super late bloomer, especially for a girl, or just be a bit clumsy. I remember her practically tripping over her own two feet.

  But now I’m the one who’s about to fall over flat on my face.

  Good god!

  “That’s Hope,” he says pointing to her. “And this is Harley,” he says motioning to her sister. At least I think he did. No way my eyes are coming off Hope right now.

  She’s got on a light summer dress that hits mid-thigh and a neckline that’s a little too plunging. To anyone else it’s probably fine, but I can just make out a hint of cleavage even though I’m not trying to look and just that hint of cleavage has my pants stretching really quickly in the groin area.

  “Hi Hendrix,” Harley says.

  I don’t respond. I can’t respond.

  “Hendrix?” Steven says.

  “Hey Hope,” I say.

  “Hey yourself,” she says and takes a step towards me. She bends slightly at the knees and extends a hand to me like a real lady.

  I take her hand and shake it, but something comes over me and I turn it over and kiss her on the back of her knuckles. Her skin smells of vanilla and is completely flawless. She must be drinking gallons of water a day to keep her skin that soft and perfect.

  Either that or it’s just natural.

  But what’s not natural is the, “Hey,” that I repeat, but this time a full octave deeper than my already gravelly voice. This girl is turning me into a feral beast.

  All I can think about is how badly I want her and my mind and my body are responding to that desire.

  We get girls trying to come backstage, on to the tour bus, all that stuff all the time.

  It never phases me one bit.

  I’ve always focused on my one and only love…music.

  That and surfing which comes in a close second, but music always wins out in the end.

  I never thought it would be right to write songs about love and passion and then just give myself to some random woman. I hate hypocrisy and no way am I going to practice it myself.

  That and I never felt like it anyways.

  I don’t want shallow nights with shallower souls taking my soul to depths which it could never be retrieved from. Once you indulge in hedonistic pursuits there’s no coming back.

  Luckily that’s not in my nature.

  And falling hard for a girl never was either until right now.

  My lips linger just a bit too long on the back of Hope’s hand. I feel like a prince or something and that I should get down on one knee right now and ask for her hand in marriage. Scratch the prince idea. This girl makes me feel more like a knight who just rode into town looking for the princess of his dreams.

  And boy did I ever find her.

  And she’s my best friend’s daughter.

  The week ahead just got a whoooole lot more interesting.

  CHAPTER 3

  Hope

  “What do you think?” I ask.

  I watch as his eyes scan my bedroom before he decides whether or not he’s going to enter. His eyes pick up on his concert picture on the wall and freeze there for a second before continuing across the room.

  “I can sleep on the couch like I told your dad. Really. Please,” he says.

  “My dad insists.”

  Hendrix exhales hard.

  “And he picked up this extra long mattress online for your visit so you kind of have to sleep on the bed. It just arrived yesterday and he’s really excited he found one big enough to suit you.”

  “And you’re going to sleep in your sister’s room? That doesn’t seem fair.”

  “It’s only for a week. Plus I usually fall asleep on the couch almost every night while watching some movie,” I say.

  I imagine cuddling up with him on the couch and eating popcorn and drinking Cokes as we binge on Netflix before we “Netflix and chill,” which has become the slang term for hooking up amongst people my age these days.

  And Hendrix is my absolute ultimate hookup. I’ve been thinking about him for four years. Four freaking years. And I can barely believe he’s going to be sleeping in my bedroom, the only bad part is I won’t be joining him…unless there’s some sort of miracle this week. It would take a huge miracle for a guy like him to notice a girl like me.

  I’ve seen the girls in their music videos. They’ve got famous actresses, models, and just a bunch of beautiful people in general.

  And my dad has a framed photo of them surfing together in Newport Beach, California when they were kids. You can literally see the girls in the background just waiting to pounce on the two of them. More so Hendrix than my dad, even back them.

  My dad’s put on a few pounds and has an office job now. He also met my mom and moved away from California so I never got to experience that beach lifestyle like he did.

  Oh how I’d like to experience it with Hendrix.

  And while my dad has started to get a bit more of a dad bod with every passing year, Hendrix has somehow managed to stay just as fit if not fitter as time passes by. It’s like he’s Benjamin Button or something, but he’s not necessarily getting younger…just getting better and keeping that same beach bod of his in tip top shape.

  Even today, twenty years after his musical career started, his music still connects with my generation…and he’s not performing Katy Perry or Justin Bieber kind of pop music. It’s man music, as the magazines call it, but the girls my age love it too.

  Or maybe they just love him. His voice is captivating. I literally caught myself drooling listening to his concert online last week. The words are so intense I forget to breathe sometimes. Now that’s the work of a true artist.

  “I still feel bad about taking your room,” he says.

  “Nonsense. You’re not taking it, you’re just borrowing it. And plus all my stuff is in here so I’ll have access to it during the day when you’re doing stuff with my dad.”

  “Okay then.
Anything I shouldn’t touch?”

  “Well,” I begin and feel my face turning red. “The dresser has my…um…ladies garments in there so maybe you won’t want to open that,” I say.

  His eyes dart toward the dresser and I feel like I’ve just told a five year old where the cookie jar is five minutes before dinnertime.

  “Yeah,” he begins. “That would…wouldn’t be right.”

  His eyes move from the drawer and meet mine, which I’ve had fixed on him since we first arrived at my room.

  My parents and sister are in the kitchen bringing the snacks and drinks out that we prepared in anticipation of his arrival. Right now it’s just the two of us and I swear I can feel it.