Part 5 (2/2)
Since joining GEM right out of college, his pa.s.sion and business ac.u.men were well respected throughout the entertainment industry. Or had been until he'd learned his job was in jeopardy. For the first time, the heavy pall of doubt had clouded his usually razor-sharp decision-making skills. Then the stunning Kevan Landry had wiggled her curvy, inked a.s.s and blue-streaked hair into his head and had stayed firmly embedded there for the last several hours.
Mason had been waiting for her when she'd swayed into the room. When she'd walked in, she'd been even more mesmerizing in her business attire-s.e.xy fifties secretary-than she'd been the night before. Warmth had flooded his chest at the pinkish bite mark peeking out from under the edge of her blouse. The image of her naked on his lap, his c.o.c.k buried deep inside her, and the thought of sinking his teeth into the sensitive spot on her shoulder had triggered one h.e.l.l of a hard-on.
And then she was falling. Again.
A few quick strides, and he'd caught her before she'd fallen too far. Again. Secretly hoping it would become a trend. Her falling. Him catching.
The meeting had pa.s.sed too quickly, in Mason's professional opinion. Joe's request to accompany the band on tour should have offended him. However, he understood their hesitancy with his inexperience in their genre of music and with their demographic. He also understood they might have some loyalty to Kevan's company. But eventually, he'd obtain the contract, even if it took more time and work than he'd antic.i.p.ated.
Mason pushed out the door of Joe's office, brus.h.i.+ng off the colliding thoughts he had about Kevan. When he finally caught up to her, she stood next to her car, fumbling with her oversized purse.
”Kevan,” he called, hurried but not out of breath.
Jogging up, he saw her glance up and her eyes narrow, just before she yanked her keys from her purse, sending them flying from her hand onto the pavement. ”Dammit,” she said. Hiking up her skirt, she leaned over to pick them up and flashed her lickable rack.
Quickly, he stooped next to her, grabbed the keys, and stuck them in his pocket.
Her pouty lips curved down as she straightened herself. She looked pretty p.i.s.sed, with a pinched scowl marring her delicate features.
”Give me my keys.” She thrust her hand out palm up, and her other hand fisted on her hip.
”Not until we talk.”
”About how you're a f.u.c.king liar? About how you're poaching my band like you stole Demon Hill? Did you know I was there to sign Manix? Did you creep around my house, looking for my presentation?”
”No. I had no idea who you were. Did you know who I was?” His voice was getting louder.
Breathe. Don't let her get under your skin. Just another day at the office.
”Are you for real? You snuck out of my house like you were ashamed to spend the night with me.”
Wow. Toxic anger dripped from her tongue. This might be harder than he'd thought. And who the f.u.c.k would be ashamed of banging a smart, smoking-hot woman like Kevan?
”Oh, or do you want to talk about how we aren't spending two weeks together on a smelly, dirty tour bus? About how I hate you and never want to see your smug face again? See, nothing to talk about.”
Kevan spun on her heels and stalked down the street. She probably wouldn't get half a block before her feet started bleeding in those mile-high f.u.c.k-me heels. G.o.d, even in all her glorious anger, she was s.e.xy as all h.e.l.l.
Then something occurred to him. Sometimes his brilliance surprised even him. Maybe he could have some fun with Kevan, since he'd missed her warm body the minute he'd closed the door on her tiny apartment. What was wrong with mixing a little business with pleasure? They were obviously compatible in bed. And they both wanted to sign the same band. Close quarters with his fiery little wet dream might be exactly what he needed to end what was becoming a tiresome trudge of women and gratuitous dates. Especially now that he was pretty sure she hadn't had any idea who he was when she'd taken him home last night.
”Kevan. Stop running away from me.” d.a.m.n woman. She had him yelling again. ”I didn't know you were interested in Manix Curse until I saw the papers on your table this morning. And I definitely didn't know about Demon Hill.”
Without turning, she raised her arm and extended her middle finger. She continued stomping away from him toward the strip mall bordering the parking lot.
”So, that's it? You're afraid of a little compet.i.tion, so you run? Never pegged you as a coward.”
Immediately, she stopped and swiveled.
”I'm not afraid of you,” she yelled and took a few steps back toward him. ”You're the past, Mason, and I'm the G.o.dd.a.m.n future. You don't know a thing about repping a band like Manix.” Her high heels stomped that asphalt as she marched up to him and stabbed her red, manicured finger in his chest. ”Your pressed Armani suits will get you laughed off the tour bus like a bad f.u.c.king joke. How long has it been since you've been on the street with one of your clients? You can't just take Manix Curse for overpriced gin and tonics at the club,” she said, her voice full of venomous condescension.
What the h.e.l.l does she know?
”I may have been growing one of the biggest West Coast music marketing companies, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten how to get s.h.i.+t done, sweetheart.” It was none of her business that his company had needed new talent for some time, and unless he delivered fresh blood, he was going to be their sacrificial lamb.
Hot anger boiled in his veins and battled with the memory of that same finger dragging down his chest early that morning.
”You don't get to call me sweetheart. You don't get to call me anything. You are exactly who I said you were.” Her voice dropped low.
Mason grabbed her hand and tugged her close. Her sugary scent washed over him. ”You didn't seem to mind when I called you sweetheart last night and early this morning.” He cringed at the drawl that crept back into his voice, along with his increased arousal. She was messing with his head. Or heads.
She yanked her fingers from his hand. ”Go f.u.c.k yourself. Because one night with me is all you're ever gonna get.”
A surge of anger crackled in his veins. Before he could stop himself, he said, ”One night is all I usually offer, darlin'.”
Without warning, the sharp sting of her palm met with his face. Surprised, he took a step back. Kevan gasped. Her eyes widened in horror. Then sharpened again. ”I know I should be sorry, but I'm not. You are a smug a.s.shat.”
”Maybe. But you don't see me acting like a p.i.s.sed-off teenager.” A p.r.i.c.kle of guilt for leaving this morning without an explanation crept into his head.
She clenched both fists, but a quick shadow of desperation, or maybe regret, shone from the depths of her eyes. He wanted to take the desperation from her and chase it away. But he was too p.i.s.sed, and he knew soothing her would only force her to push him away again. A lyric from the White Stripes song ”p.r.i.c.kly Thorn, But Sweetly Worn” popped into his head.
G.o.dd.a.m.n infuriating woman. Sweet one minute and freaking out the next. He knew he could convince the band to sign with him, especially if they saw him in action. But wouldn't it be sweeter if he could work out his l.u.s.t for Kevan and get the band? But at this rate, she wasn't going anywhere with him.
”You're a liar, and you used me to get ahead of the compet.i.tion. Just like the sneaky corporate suit you are,” she said.
”Don't remember any talk of business or compet.i.tion. The only thing I remember is your hot little body writhing under mine, crying out my name.” Leaning forward, he bent down to eye level and heard her quick intake of breath as he looked directly into her eyes. ”I didn't know your connection to the band.”
Her eyes shot icicles at him, but their gazes remained locked. To convince her to go on tour, he needed to do it in a way that she felt she was the making the decision. Not him. And he couldn't pin her hands behind her and kiss her into agreeing. Nor could he bend her over his knee and spank her beautiful a.s.s until his hand stung. He'd never earn back this fiery woman's body unless it was completely on her terms. Or, at least, she thought it was. This was a whole new animal for him. He'd never pursued a woman. Kevan Landry presented him with yet another challenge. A new plan bubbled up and took shape.
”You need this contract, don't you?” he asked, and she bobbed her chin tersely. ”Then why would you say no?”
She s.h.i.+fted her dainty shoulders, the bite mark flas.h.i.+ng him as her blouse s.h.i.+fted. Yeah, he needed to get this band signed and get into Kevan Landry another time or two. She stared at her nails, turning them from front to back, examining them. She muttered inaudibly.
Time to ratchet this up a notch. ”I can't hear you. One minute you're screaming and slapping at me like a madwoman, and the next you're practically whispering and shuffling like a nervous child.” Trying for his most imperious and intimidating look, he stood tall, arms across his chest, one eyebrow drawn up.
”It's none of your business. I'm none of your business.”
”I asked a simple question. Why won't you go on the tour? What's the harm?”
She peered up at him through her dark lashes. ”Look, I know I was an easy hookup. But you're a d.i.c.k for leaving after looking at my presentation and then showing up here. I'm not going anywhere with you.”
”Why?”
”I...I can't.”
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