Cascade Records rented a small house in a secluded area of Cape Cod. The crew was at a nearby hotel while Brogan, Carly, and Gio relaxed at the seaside home. Brogan was sober for a week. All the damned drugs he was on certainly took the edge off, but the demon was still in there snarling silently. Brogan walked on the small stretch of beach at dusk. He glanced at the house. Carly was inside discussing the upcoming concerts with Gio, working out security and other details that bored the shite out of him. They hadn't talked much since the turkey dinner. As one side-effect of their interaction, he had been in a constant state of arousal ever since she crushed his bollocks. Actually, he derived some amusement from watching her try to keep their dealings removed and professional. Aye, she couldn't hide the flush of her cheeks or the direction of her gaze. Carly constantly scanned his body with her intense stare, usually stopping the longest on his crotch. He made no effort to hide his interest.
