Part 6 (1/2)

”Afraid you might have to actually work for this contract, Bettie?” he scoffed, grabbing her hand and placing her keys in her palm. ”Then run away, little mouse. Now who's the liar? Your whole cheeky-chick thing is all a front, isn't it?”

Once again, she squinted, and the scalding heat was back in her eyes. Inwardly, he smiled. Now we're getting somewhere.

Her face darkened, and the knuckles on one hand turned white as her fingers grasped her handbag. ”No, you jacka.s.s. I'm not wasting my time going on a tour, battling for a band that'll end up signing with you anyway.”

”Giving up that easily? Thought you had more fight in you.” He pivoted on his foot as if to walk away, hoping the lump in his chest would dissolve.

”I can't compete against you and a company like yours. You have a staff; I have one full-time a.s.sistant and a part-time intern. You have money and resources I don't have. I can't waste my time on a job I don't have a shot at.” She huffed back to her battered Volvo and tried to shove the key into the lock.

Mason moved up behind her, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her shoulders, and instead stilled her frantic movements with his hand on hers. The soft skin of her cold fingers sent a punch of tight awareness straight to that knot his chest. He longed to enfold her cold body in his warm one.

”What if I make you a deal?” What his board didn't know, right? They had barely agreed to the superficial development contract he'd offered Demon Hill. So why not make it fair?

Skeptical, she glared at him over her shoulder. G.o.d, she was so beautiful it made his heart ache a little. No, not my heart, dumb f.u.c.k, my d.i.c.k.

”What kind of deal?”

He removed his hands and stepped back, giving her some s.p.a.ce. She turned and leaned back against the car. ”We compete for the contract fair and square. Mano a mano. Your wits against mine. I promise a fair fight.”

It was a stupid idea, but for some reason he really wanted her to say yes. He held his breath. Waiting. He hoped her long exhale indicated her resignation.

”No.” Her eyes, the color of blue steel, held his gaze unflinchingly. Why was her first response always no? ”I...I can't risk it.”

But her hesitancy convinced him of an opening, so he went in for the kill. ”So you have some other low-hanging-fruit opportunity waiting for you?”

She pushed off from the car and stood with her shoulders thrown back, her chin tilted up. Her face began to redden from his taunts, but she said nothing.

”Or maybe it's because you're afraid you can't keep your hands off me?”

”So this is about getting into my pants...”

Good question. What was he doing? ”No, it's about-”

”What is it about then, Mason?” she asked, suspicion dripping from her simple question. ”You're the one who left without even a polite good-bye. I wasn't expecting flowers and poems. Let's just call it what it was: a misguided one-nighter. But now this. What am I supposed to say?”

Misguided? He leaned forward. The side of his mouth brushed her ear, sending jolts of sensation straight to his c.o.c.k. ”I shouldn't have left this morning. But this tour is a great opportunity. For both of us. And even if you lose the band, which I'm not saying you will, there might be other potential acts and venues you can book.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn't move. ”Why should I trust you?”

”Because you don't really have a better option, do you?” he said softly.

”Maybe,” she said finally and put both her hands on his chest to push him away.

”Really?” He couldn't help the smile threatening to take over his face. So much for his reputation as the cool, collected negotiator. Willem Maxfield, GEM's founder and chairman, had nicknamed him The Ice Man years ago, but this woman got under his skin like a blowtorch and melted his calm, cool sh.e.l.l to a big, messy puddle.

”Under one condition. Okay, two conditions,” she said.

He tried not to roll his eyes, but as she'd reduced him to a teenage boy, it was more difficult than he would have thought.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes. ”What conditions?”

”If you lie to me one more time, the deal is off. You walk away, and I sign Manix Curse without a fight from you or GEM.”

”Didn't lie, darlin'. I honestly didn't know you were there last night to see Manix until this morning.” He paused. ”What's the second condition?”

She stood up straight and tilted her head to peer directly into his eyes, and that sugary vanilla smell filled his nose. ”We forget last night ever happened, and we don't repeat it.”

Uneasiness trickled down his spine, pooling and souring in his belly. How could he ever forget the best s.e.x of his life? How could she? Impossible. Ridiculous, even. h.e.l.l, he'd agree to just about anything to be near her for a little while. At this point, he'd take what he could get and work on her resolve later. Work her up until she was ready to scratch her nails down his back and scream his name as he pulled her hips from behind and pounded into her.

”Fine. I'll agree to it. For now.” He stood there, feeling awkward. If he couldn't kiss her or dry hump her against the car, what now?

She provided the answer by offering her slim hand.

Really?

”After I had my fingers and c.o.c.k in your perfect little p.u.s.s.y and you were quaking with l.u.s.t in my arms, you want to shake hands?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Her hand shook slightly, but she kept it in place.

”Don't be an a.s.s. This is a business deal. Shake.”

So he did.

”You're agreeing to go on tour?” he asked, trying to keep his tone even.

”I'm agreeing to think about it.”

He stood, numb, while she unlocked her car and pulled open the door, cringing at the sound of metal grinding against metal. She threw herself into the car and revved the engine. Then nothing. After a second try, the engine turned over and chugged to life. He stood watching her through the window as she busied herself on her phone, presumably waiting for her old heap to warm up. Finally, she put the car into gear, and without another look in his direction, drove out of the parking lot.

Mason didn't want to question why he wanted her to go on tour and why he'd made such a ridiculous deal. He'd worry about that later. First, he'd save his job and have some fun with Kevan. Then he'd move on with his happy little life. Feeling half-heartedly positive about his path, he watched as her car drove out of sight. Finally turning away, he climbed into his BMW M5.

He punched the band manager's number in his phone and spoke. ”Hey, Joe, it's Mason. I think we're both good to go on the road with you. I'm definitely on board and you'll probably get a call from Kevan soon. What time should we be there?”

He wasn't letting this opportunity pa.s.s, and he sure as h.e.l.l wasn't letting Kevan move on. Not yet.

Chapter 7.

Leaving Mason standing in the parking lot was hands down, one of the most uncomfortable things Kevan had ever done. The physical ache in her heart was a surprise, like the almost overwhelming desire to run her fingers through his hair while screaming in his face. She wanted to wrap her hands around his throat at the same time she wanted to kiss his beautiful, lying mouth.

Go figure.

Kevan parked in the lot next to the small cottage she'd rented to house her fledgling business. This part of town was just off the main drag of the trendy Hawthorne area, with retro houses turned into boutiques and small firms. The shabby but cute and funky bungalow wasn't a traditional office. Sort of like Kevan, which was why it felt so special to her. Her s.p.a.ce. Her office. Her dream. If Mason Dillon and his robo corp didn't put her out of business.

Her little office had been home to a number of businesses long gone, but she loved the lighting and its turn-of-the-century style. Because it had housed a salon, a toy store and-before that-a record store, the small rooms hadn't required much work to make them serviceable.