Her pulse quickened as the deadbolt clicked into the lock, resounding off the walls. The bedroom door hung slightly ajar—just enough light spilling in from the foyer to outline the furniture around the darkened room. His suite was decked out with the thickest drapes she’d ever seen. The band demanded light-tight windows so they could sleep peacefully during the day—just one of the many facts she’d recently read about Jerico though, to her dismay, not all of them were true. For starters, she’d done everything imaginable to gain his attention bar jumping the bouncers lining the rim of the outer stage, but disappointingly hadn’t been pulled from the front row. Word on the forums was security would discreetly pluck a select few from the crowd closest the stage and lead the lucky ladies through a series of secret passageways to wait for the band after the show. Yet the burly men dressed in black, Security printed in bold white letters on the backs of their shirts, barely flexed a biceps all night, forcing her to move to Plan B.
