“So, we are here with Two Way Street,” the DJ, Cooper, purred confidently into the mic. “Whose opera themed song, Opening Aria, hit number nine today. How does that make you feel, Owen? I believe it is your composition?” His voice belonged to a sultry leading man with smouldering good looks, but his face was that of a middle-aged science teacher, Emily thought, and wondered how many of his listeners were disappointed when they saw the promotion pictures that went with their favorite DJ.“All our songs are written by Owen,” James said, at full charm. DJ Cooper wasn’t immune to the drummer’s appeal, his interest more than professional, Emily observed, and was certain from the blush on James’ cheeks, that the DJ had slipped him his number in the break. “Until he walked into our band practise, we were just a cover band lacking a lead guitarist.”“And Owen, of course, brought in Emily as well,” Seb added.“Opening Aria was a bit of a joke, to be honest,” Owen answered the DJ, flushing unde

“Oh, yes, that would explain it,” Vice murmured, his lips somewhere near her ear. His breath on her skin had her heart racing. If he began to kiss her, she suspected she would channel Megan and just drop her underwear and go with it.“Emily’s grandmother was an opera singer,” Owen said, sternly. He disapproved entirely of the situation and stood stiffly on the edge of the conversation; not quite included, but also not quite excluded. His eyes told her he wanted her to excuse herself so they could move on and that words between them would follow. “She used to babysit Emma on the afternoons her mum couldn’t be home in time after school, and taught Emma to sing.” There was a faint frown tensing his eyebrows.“How lovely,” Vice leaned against the back of the couch. Emily could smell his aftershave, and it was like a drug. Her eyes wanted to roll back into her head. She could imagine the conversation she would be having with Megan later, with their normal roles reversed.“A photo,” she man

“I am not entirely sure about this outfit,” Emily tugged at the bodice of her top, though it was a losing battle. The amount of fabric involved meant that tugging in one direction, revealed more skin in the other.“Uh-ah, no touching,” Peter the stylist batted her hands away. “No yanking, no tugging, no touching.” He tossed his dead straight, long bleached and perfectly toned white-blonde locks over his shoulder. She suspected it was a lace-weave wig expertly applied, but no amount of discreet scrutiny revealed his hair secrets to her less-than-expert eyes. If it wasn’t a wig, she thought, the man had the best head of hair that she had ever seen.“No bouncing, no jumping and no breathing,” she repeated by rote his instructions as he had dressed and glued her into her clothing. She did not know the secrets of his double-sided tape, but she suspected that she would not have to wax those areas of her body anytime in the near future once the clothing was removed. “And no reaching above my

“I have missed you too, Owen,” she reached up and tucked his hair back behind his ear. “Your hair is getting so long. You all look so different after just a few weeks apart. Except for James. James is exactly the same.”“So, what was it like, hanging out with Vice and Victor?” He asked and there was a hint of jealousy in his voice. There was the core of the problem, she thought. He knew that Vice and Victor made her weak and the knees, and it made him jealous. They were still at the point where he was free to do whatever and whoever he wanted, but he wanted her frozen in time, waiting for him if and when he was done with his freedom and ready for a relationship.She met his eyes. It was not the question he had wanted to ask, she thought, but she wasn’t going to give him the answer so easily. She hadn’t, after all, after that one question about Cordelia, ever asked if he took anyone else to bed. “Great. They are just… so sweet, really. I know they seem like total partiers, but it is ju

In the morning, as she stepped out into the kitchen, Seb was at the coffee machine. “Not you too,”he shook his head in stern disapproval as he pushed a pod into the opening and waited for the machine to work.Owen met her eyes across the kitchen bench and raised his eyebrows. “Seb has a strong opinion about morning exercise,” he explained. He was dressed for a run but had apparently paused to have a flick through the daily newspaper on his way as it was open on the bench in front of him.“I have a strong opinion about all exercise,” Seb corrected, turning and resting his hips against the kitchen bench, cupping his coffee in both hands and blowing on it to cool it. “Other than the horizontal sort.”“If you do it in the morning,” she explained, stooping to adjust a shoe. “It is over and done with for the day.”“It depends entirely on what you mean by ‘it’,” Seb winked lasciviously. “I have no objections to certain physical activities in the morning, afternoon, or evening.”“You weren’t