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“Nice to meet you, gentlemen. I might see you on stage.”

They grinned and Bear shook his head.

“Not this year,” he said enigmatically.

##

As she walked around the corner of the pub back towards the green, a hand grabbed at her arm and she came to a sudden stop. Slowly turning around, she looked into a black T-shirt and raised her eyes to meet the deep blue gaze fixed on her. She waited as David stared at her.

He ran his other hand through his loose black curls and a shiver trickled down her back, contrasting with the warmth of his hand still gripping the top of her arm. Their gazes met and held, and the feeling intensified. Her blood hummed in response to his look and she swallowed, waiting for him to speak.

“Look, I’m sorry for being so rude last night.” His voice was deep. “I thought you knew who I was and that you’d come looking for me.” His mouth lifted slightly in a wry grin. “It sounds egotistical, but as strange as you might find it, it does happen, you know.”

“Well, you needn’t worry about me because I’ve never heard of you.” Megan still hadn’t forgotten the assumptions he’d made last night. She kept her voice cold as she fought the warmth rushing through her body. David still held her arm firmly, and the heat radiated from his fingers and ended up low in her belly.

“That’s good.” He ran his other hand through his loose curls. “Look, all I want is privacy. This time of the year with the festival brings all types of people into town. We’ve had a few journalists in the village trying to dig up some dirt on us. Anything to sell a magazine or newspaper.” He looked away and seemed to be talking to himself. “They never seem to let the truth get in the way of a good story.”

“I know what you mean.” But despite feeling a measure of sympathy, she looked pointedly down at his hand. He didn’t take the hint and Megan fought the desire to lean into his chest. His words had resonated with her and she clenched her fists. He was so close to her, his woodsy cologne enveloped her and she stepped back, catching her breath.

“Look, I can probably help you and be a bit neighbourly. I have to go into Taunton tomorrow morning, so if you want to come with me, the offer is there. There’s are a few cafés and a library with Wi-Fi. There’s nothing in the village. We’re a bit behind the times here.”

For a moment, Megan considered refusing his offer and then realised she couldn’t afford to. She had to see what was happening back in Sydney. How Tony was progressing with the appeal. And also checking that Kathy was okay.

And whether I’ll have a job to go back to. She could buy a power adapter while they were there, and then she could charge her cell phone and her laptop and not have to depend on him being neighbourly. She sensed he was already regretting the offer to help her out. David Morgan was a strange man.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“Be ready at eight. I’m only going in for an hour or so. I have to be back for rehearsal. With all the problems we’ve had, we’re way behind.”

He turned on his heel and headed back to his band members, but not before Megan noticed how well his jeans fit to a set of powerful thighs.

She reached up and brushed her fingers across the top of her arm where he had gently gripped her.

Get over it. That’s the last thing I need. A holiday fling.

Just use him as an opportunity to find out more about Davy Morgan. What an opportunity had landed in her lap. Meeting the nephew of the man she’d been obsessed with since her teens.

What were the chances of that? She’d be crazy to let it go.

A smile tugged at her lips. As crazy as the woman in the grocery store.

If nothing else, her first twenty-four hours in England had been far from boring.

Chapter Eight

Vivid dreams plagued Megan’s sleep and she sat up in bed, her breath coming in short gasps. It was pitch dark and she was wide-awake. Images of bare-chested sweaty rock stars with black curly hair, on stage in tight leather pants and belting out loud music, had woken her and she’d lain there with her eyes open for a moment before she sat up, and then she realised that real music was actually pounding through the darkness from the house next door.

She’d thumped her pillow and put her head beneath the blankets but now her mind turned to worry about the appeal. Being out of contact was absolutely frustrating and she lay there wondering whether she should go home a bit earlier than she’d originally planned. Was there even any point continuing her research? Control of her life seemed to be slipping through her fingers.

Chances were there’d be no job to go back to, anyway. Maybe she could spend the rest of her life in this pretty cottage. Not such a bad alternative.

The music drifted in from next door and Megan closed her eyes as Davy Morgan’s voice came across to her in the still of the night. She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. It was one of his sad love songs that she’d always loved.

“I’ll love you wherever you are, whenever you are.”

The ability of music to change moods and to promote well-being in its listeners had fascinated her since she’d first listened to those Davy Morgan songs in her teens, and that had been the catalyst for her study of music. Now it was flowing through her like a drug and she embraced the high. She had to put the fiasco at home out of her mind and make the most of being here at Glastonbury. The opportunity to enrich her sociology of music thesis was something she needed to embrace. Her throat closed as the music swelled to a crescendo and she drew a deep breath as euphoria flooded through her.

No matter what was happening at home, and what went down with her job at the university, she was here because of her love for the music and the innate desire to find out more about the seventies and the festivals. If it didn’t end up contributing to her doctorate, did it really matter? The knowledge and the music filled an empty place within her soul.