Part 9 (1/2)
His pulsed spiked. He focused in on her lips and the mere thought of ”shacking up” with her. Then her words began to sink in, evaporating his smugness.
”Deal?” he asked weakly.
She looked at him like he had two heads. ”No. s.e.x. Remember?”
Now he remembered. He straightened and grinned. ”Whatever turns you on, sweetheart.”
”Don't just stand there looking pretty. Help me with my bags.” She gestured to the pile of suitcases on the sidewalk.
”Say 'please.'” Instead of taking the bait, she rolled her eyes and flipped him off.
He smiled, walking over to the RV. ”Your wish is my command.” Before she could respond, he stuck his head into the rented motor home and called out to the driver, ”Ben, can you please take Ms. Landry's belongings into the room at the back?”
Ben, a stocky man in a too-tight black suit, with thinning gray hair, exited the vehicle and bobbed his chin at Kevan. She grinned and stuck out her hand to shake his, but her words were for Mason. ”I don't want any special treatment. Mr. Dillon will keep the stateroom, and I'll take the guest bunk.”
Mason shrugged, and Ben picked up the bags.
Ben's face was a tight grimace as he tugged on her heavy bags. ”Whatever you say, boss.”
Mason stepped up on the first step and offered his hand to her, palm up. Kevan's lip curved slightly, but she smacked his hand away. ”After you, boss.”
As Ben gave Kevan a brief tour of the bus, Mason sat at the small built-in table. The driver indicated where the food was stored, where the office supplies were located, and the dresser and closet areas she could use to house her many bags.
Really, how many suitcases does one person need for a nine-day road trip?
He counted at least four. Four full-size suitcases. The woman had high maintenance written all over her.
According to the itinerary, they were to make the short drive to Eugene, where the band was headlining a small show to be opened with the college-town favorite, Chaotic Reign. They'd play until eleven, pack up, and get back on the road for tomorrow night's stop in Medford and then on to California.
It was another hour before they hit the highway through the Pacific Northwest. After a quick call to Joe, Kevan flopped down across from Mason and set up her laptop, using her phone as a WiFi hotspot to do G.o.d knows what-Tweet? Facebook? Mason didn't know how to use Twitter. He let his admin, or Steve, GEM's VP of client relations, do all that. Or he had. He'd kept Steve out of the loop on this. No one knew he was on the tour with Manix.
Needing to keep his mind from wandering, Mason booted up his laptop, got onto the Internet, and made a half-a.s.sed attempt to check and respond to email. He occasionally glanced at the beauty across from him, absorbed in her own world as she tapped away at the keys. They worked in companionable silence as the RV rolled along the winding highway. Well, it was mostly silent, except for the occasional lyric Kevan would sing off-key, forgetting the accompanying band was in her headphones. He should have found the distraction and interruptions annoying. Instead, it was comforting to have someone working next to him. Not alone.
Yep. Push that one down, too, buddy. Add it to the little pile of stuff not to think about now. Label it ”Later.” Or ”Kevan.”
Except, he enjoyed looking at her, watching her twirl blue-streaked lengths of hair around her finger while obviously deep in thought-probably pondering some element of her strategy.
Catching him staring, she yelled at full blast, ”What?”
He smiled. Should he tell her he was thinking of dragging her back to the bedroom for a repeat of their all-nighter? Probably not.
”You look hungry,” she yelled.
So f.u.c.king hungry...for you.
”I'll cook,” she said even louder.
He winced, and she gave him a quizzical look. He pointed to his ears. She laughed, hopefully forgetting for a moment she didn't like him. She ripped the large pink headphones off and smiled.
”I'll cook for you. For us, I mean. And Ben,” she said at a more tolerable volume. When he scrunched his brow, she added, ”You know, for the ride and everything. I don't want to feel like I owe you for the RV.”
”You don't owe me, dar...” He caught himself. ”Kevan.”
”So you say. Let me cook, and I'll feel like things are more even.” Kevan's eyes brightened as she pursed her lips in a beseeching manner.
”How can I possibly refuse? I'm a horrid cook, and it's not one of Ben's responsibilities.”
The sweet, satisfied smile that lit up her face was stunning. d.a.m.n woman, twisting up his brain again. making him want more than a couple of more tumbles in the sheets with her.
”Thank you.”
”Under one condition.” Mason grinned.
”Now what?”
”You promise not to throw any food or utensils at me.”
Kevan stared at him, her face an emotionless mask. And then she burst out laughing again. She picked up her pencil and threw it at him. ”Where's the fun in that?”
Mason chuckled at her and tossed it back.
This trip is looking up already.
Chapter 10.
The college town of Eugene was a veritable launchpad for up-and-coming bands in all genres. Acts like Tool and Korn had started out in small clubs similar to the one Manix Curse planned to tear up later that night. With only a day to lay the groundwork before the tour, Kevan feared she wouldn't have enough time to properly set up the promotional opportunities.
The best way to spread the word in a college town would be through the media and word of mouth. Kevan emailed both the rock and college stations to set up on-air interviews. Then she emailed Streetlight Vinyl and CD, a popular music store and hangout, to gauge their interest in promoting the show. As the bus chugged down the highway, she called Joe to confirm their earlier conversation about taking over the band's social media. As soon as he agreed, Kevan had her phone in her hand, shooting off tweets and Facebook posts about the show.
Eugene was a music-friendly town. It was the hometown of bluesman Robert Cray, after all. Kevan didn't receive any resistance. The enthusiastic reception filled her with energy she could feel zinging through her veins. Already, the buzz was building online. Fans had reposted and shared her updates, and her first Tweet alone had over one hundred retweets.
I can totally do this.
Over the top of her computer, Kevan snuck a glance at the maddening man sitting across from her. She studied his strong, muscled forearms through the fringe of her bangs. What was it about a man's forearms? So hot. He'd donned a pair of chunky, black-rimmed gla.s.ses that might look hipster or just plain dorky on a different man. On Mason, they looked distinguished. He was typing intently at his very posh laptop. Well, he was more like stabbing at his keyboard than typing. Seems Mr. Perfect was a hunt-and-peck typist. Deep in thought, he pursed his beautiful mouth and ran his hand through his messy dark hair.
Oh, please do that again.
Oh no, please, don't do that again.
The obnoxious ringtone Bowen had set on her phone blared through the RV. Mason looked up in time to catch her ogling him before she grabbed the offending gadget and turned toward the window. The pa.s.sing scenery was a blurred smear of greens and browns as the RV raced down the highway.
”h.e.l.lo?”
”Ms. Landry? This is Mike Dean, the programming manager at KMTL.”
”Thanks for calling me back. As I mentioned in my voice mail, I'm on the road with Manix Curse, and we're in town for a show tonight. I'd love to bring the band down for an interview this afternoon. I can offer some free tickets to listeners as incentive.” Kevan held her breath. She hoped she had sounded confident and businesslike, even if this was her first attempt at getting free on-air promotion for a client. Or not-yet client.