Part 10 (2/2)
”Wouldn't miss it. And I want to keep an eye on you and the winners.” His innocuous smile hinted at the dimple hidden in his trimmed beard.
”Huh?” Her face burned, and she stopped walking.
”The contest winners. I want to evaluate the success of your program.”
She clenched her teeth and forced herself to answer in an even tone. ”You're going to evaluate me? Geez, who the f.u.c.k do you think you are?”
”No. No...” he stammered. ”I like your idea, and I want to see the results. The guy who won the song with the band could be really cool or an epic failure. Let's hope for your sake it's the former, not the latter,” he teased. She smiled. Good, let him be arrogant. It would be all the more satisfying when it worked out in her favor.
”Sure, Mr. Marketing Iron Man,” she said. Untangling herself, she smacked his tight denim b.u.t.t and sashayed off into the club, calling over her shoulder, ”Watch and learn.”
As usual, Kevan was a flurry of activity-checking merchandise sales, posting Instagram fan pictures and short videos, charming the local media. She gleaned the occasional brief glance of Mason throughout the night. She knew he still watched her like the first night at the Tiki Torch. She could feel the slight tingle at the back of her neck, the telltale sign that he had his eyes on her.
She wanted to be annoyed by his attention. Normally, she would be offended. She could take care of herself, right? It was obvious he wanted to get her into bed again. And, yet, she took comfort in knowing he was thinking about her, looking out for her. Even if it was to get his hands on her b.o.o.bies again or steal her band out from under her.
As a conversation with the opening band's manager ended with a promise of a meeting after the tour to discuss a promotional plan, Kevan realized she hadn't seen or felt Mason for at least an hour. She glanced around the s.p.a.cious room and caught sight of him in the back corner with Joe and a younger man, talking animatedly. The well-dressed younger man smiled broadly and shook Joe's hand, then shook Mason's hand. The other man stood grinning like the cat that had eaten the proverbial canary. But Mason didn't look happy. In fact, he wore a deep scowl and glowered, with his arms folded tightly across his chest.
Before she had a chance to run over and eavesdrop or process what might be going on, the lights went low, and the opening act took the stage. The packed club was primed by Chaotic Reign's set and went wild on the first note.
When Manix finally went on after ten, the crowd went ballistic. The sultry swell of Mandi's guitar filled the venue, and the lights at her feet washed her in a shadowy glow. Slung low across her front was a s.h.i.+ny new purple Gretsch Kevan had never seen before. Conner added in his long, slow ba.s.s line which drew in the hard drums of Jax, followed by Marco's whiskey-smooth growl. The pit opened, and the crowd turned into a ma.s.s tornado of sweat and music.
The fourth song into their set, Marco introduced the contest winner and invited him up onstage. The guy obviously knew their music but wasn't nearly as skilled on the guitar as Mandi. But after an awkward start and some patience on the part of the band members, he seemed to settle in. They let him play along for a few songs and then sent him offstage with the crowd cheering for him. It was awesome.
Kevan could hardly believe ninety minutes had pa.s.sed when the lights came up and the sweaty crowd shuffled toward the door, like a congregation exhausted and excised at the altar of heavy metal. She gathered the winning callers and the grand prize recipient from the radio show and took them back to meet the band.
Joining the after-party group at the bar, she introduced the winners and the band members. As she stood back and watched, she realized that regardless of what happened, they would all look back at the tour as the ”good times.” Her heart sank into her belly when her sense of urgency and all that loomed over her threatened to steal the warm, fuzzy feeling she should have had from the experience.
Her thoughts brought her back to the present. She needed an edge, something to tip the odds in her favor. She had hoped her friends.h.i.+p with the band members would help. Maybe she could appeal to their metal-scene lifestyle as well as their hardworking ethic.
Like her, they lived and breathed the music, but they all had real jobs, except college student Mandi. They all loved the music, got off on the energy and the vibe. But no one had been more surprised than the actual band members when their hobby had become a little something more.
She focused on Mandi, sitting on a battered barstool, holding a beat-up acoustic guitar, the pretty new one probably packed up on the bus. She'd lovingly signed the aged instrument and was plucking at it while talking with two of the meet-and-greet winners. Kevan didn't hear the entire conversation but a.s.sumed the guitar belonged to one of the fans.
Kevan smiled. Yep, no matter what happened with the contract-who won or lost-she would always remember this time with them. If they gained in popularity as quickly as she thought they would, Manix Curse would be huge. She would be proud to have known them, to have been part of their grand adventure and thrilled they had let her come along for the ride, even if her personal circ.u.mstances had sullied it a bit.
She felt Mason's warmth before he even spoke. ”Looks like your meet and greet is a big hit, Bettie.” The cadence of his deep voice sent s.h.i.+vers down her spine, threatening to chip away at her weakening walls.
”Thanks. Not too shabby for being thrown together at the last minute,” she said without facing him. She didn't want him to see the way his compliment warmed her cheeks. Gathering the courage and the right words to ask about the man at the show, she tried for casual. ”So, uh...who was that guy you and Joe were talking to earlier?”
His warm chuckle wafted gently over her scalp. ”Were you looking for me earlier? I'm flattered.”
”Don't be, only keeping my eye on the compet.i.tion.” She cringed at her harsh tone. ”And you're kind of hard to miss, being such a ginormously huge man and all.”
”Yes, we've covered how big I am, haven't we?”
Ignoring his innuendo, she asked, ”Seriously, who was that guy?”
”That guy is no one you need to worry your pretty head about.”
Acid pooled in her gut. ”Why was he talking to you and Joe?”
”f.u.c.k if I know.”
Why is he lying?
”You're not breaking our deal, are you?” she blurted before she could craft her words more carefully.
”No, darlin', I'm not.” He paused and leaned down to her ear, pulling back a lock of her hair. ”Are you?” He took her lobe between his teeth and nipped; a sharp spike of desire shot through her like a bullet.
She s.h.i.+vered and felt her heartbeat triple. Did he mean their marketing deal or the hands-off deal? Did it really matter? How was it possible he could be burying her with his success and, at the same time, getting her as hot as melted chocolate? Her life was spiraling out of control, and all she could think about was how close his warm lips were to her ear. How his teeth felt on her body. How close his mouth was to that spot, the one spot on her shoulder he'd discovered.
The feel of his erection pressed tight against her lower back made her p.u.s.s.y pulse. When she pushed her hips back into his body, Mason's low growl in her ear spread through her like a forest fire. His fingers found her neck and painted flames across her collarbone. It was getting harder and harder to deny her visceral reaction to him.
She laid her head back against his solid chest and was reaching her hand up and around to touch his hair, when Ben, their driver, walked up, prim and proper as usual. Abruptly, she jumped away from Mason. The cool air between their bodies was a shock to the warmth that had just inhabited them.
”Sir, ma'am, we're ready to get on the road. The band should be about fifteen minutes behind us. Are you ready to depart?” The older man was as professional as an English butler, in spite of the metalheads yelling and laughing throughout the room. Apparently, nothing fazed Ben. Nothing yet, anyway.
After they said their good-byes and were preparing to walk out into the cool night, Jax snuck up, grabbed her arm, and dragged her off to the side.
”I hope you know what you're doing,” Jax said in a loud whisper.
She pulled her arm back, clutching it against her chest.
”I don't know what you're talking about.” She looked toward the door where Ben and Mason had walked out. ”I'm not doing anything.”
”Bulls.h.i.+t, Kevan.” His pointed glare dug into her like a sharp stick. ”Look, I really do care about you.” When she rolled her eyes, he held up his hand in protest. ”That's not what I meant. Yes, you're hot, but I love you-like a sister.”
She nodded, and the sincerity in his face lit his eyes.
”I see the way he watches you. I see the way you look at him. He's a nice guy. I get it. But...”
”But what?” But he's arrogant? But he's a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy? But he's too smart for me?
”He's a suit. Dabbles in the metal world, but he's not ready to move here, if you know what I mean.”
”Yeah, then why are you making me compete against him for the band's business?”
”You know if it were up to me we'd sign with you. No question.” Jax released a frustrated sigh. ”But it's not up to me. We signed financial and business decisions over to Joe, when we couldn't even agree on a stupid logo.”
”I know. Had to ask.” She squeezed his hand. ”But why all the c.r.a.p about him being a suit, blah, blah, blah? Aren't you being a little hypocritical? Seems I remember you in law school for a couple of years,” she blurted, sounding more like she was defending Mason, even admitting she was interested. Which she wasn't. ”I couldn't care less what he is or where he lives or whatever. There's nothing going on between us.”
Jax bent over and brushed a light kiss on her cheek. ”It's not the same. And I was there when the a.s.shole professor tore your heart out and played baseball with it. Remember?” She felt her cheeks heat with the humiliation Ethan's public betrayal still elicited. ”Birds of a feather and all that. We gotta stick together. We can play in their world, take their money, but we need to remember who our real friends are.”
She shoved his rock-hard arm. ”Why are you suddenly all mushy and worried about my feelings? Weren't you acting like you wanted in my panties a couple of days ago?”
His face transformed back into the rock star, and his dimples winked as he smiled. ”Well, you're as hot as a winter campfire, and I want s'mores.”
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