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  I turn and take off my RayBans and tucked them into the pocket of my tee-shirt and gave her the most charming smile I had in me.

  For her, I made it beam like the streaks of pure sunlight that poured through the glass windows of her office.

  “Tell me. Which one of my songs is your favorite?”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t work in this business without learning a thing or two about people. PR people generally don’t give a damn about their clients, just their paychecks. But you do. This leads me to believe that you hold affection in your heart for at least some of my music.”

  “Isn’t this that got you guys into trouble in the first place? You claiming ownership of songs that you co-wrote with Jersey and Rory?”

  “That,” I said taking a step closer, “was decided on by the courts.”

  I took another step, but she didn’t move away.

  “It was Ever, wasn’t it?” I said. Her eyes flicked wide open, and she took a sharp breath.

  “It was one of my favorite songs too,” I said. “And still is.” I began to sing it softly.

  “If you ever need a friend,

  Someone to help you tie loose ends,

  The one who’ll send you roses,

  And watch the stars with you,

  Call me.

  I’ll be there always and ever.”

  I never do this—sing to a woman I’m trying to seduce. Music is the better part of my dissolute soul and I don’t share it with just anyone. But I’m sharing it with her, and she seems to sense that this is something different because she doesn’t resist when I lean in and touch my lips to hers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jacine

  His kiss is vaguely minty, whiskey and fire, and the heat in my core goes from a simmer to a full boil. I’m going to stop this. I really am, because this is highly unprofessional. But when one of the men that smiled at you from a band poster in your bedroom during your formative teen years kisses you, you do not say no. Or want to.

  Cole’s hands light on my hips and I shiver, especially when he presses his steely length into me. God, he wants me, and urgently, and it has been a very long time since I kissed a man let alone have sex with anyone. This was too good, like ice cream and champagne served at the same time. The ice cream is a forbidden treat, sweet, rich and full, and his lips are a treat, questing and passionate, drawing from me desires that I shoved into oblivion in the briefcase of my soul.

  His tongue presses against my lips and his fingers move around my waist to the place that sends sparks up my spine, and I open my mouth to take more of him. And like champagne, his kiss goes to my head, and I’m not thinking about business, or my father, or the utter idiocy of what I am doing.

  He moans a little, a low guttural sound that reverberates through me like the notes of a fine guitar. Every touch of his hands finds a new place to set ablaze, and I’m burning like wildfire.

  One hand leaves my waist, and because I’m insensible with lust, do not realize that his hand pulls up the hem of my dress and his fingers find my bud until his has done the deed. With touch too gentle for a man that pounds out rhythms on steel strings, his calloused fingertips make me climb past mere longing, or want, or the curious stirring in my belly that tells me I need this.

  My breathing speeds and he murmurs in my ear about how wet I am and that he has what I need. His light fingering builds my desire along with the pressure he applies to my most tenders places, wet and aching, and my hips jut to meet his moves. My cream floods his hand, and he murmurs appreciatively while I am aware of his brand rubbing against my thigh, hot and thick, and I think with the non-thinking part of my brain that I need that inside me.

  His fingers found my slick folds, and two fingers explored my g-spot while his thumb worked my nub. Cole is in me and around me, and my gut curls with my impending orgasm.

  A sharp rap on my door brought me to my senses, and I pushed Cole back hard, too hard, because he fell onto the leather sofa with a surprised look on his face. As the door opened, I smoothed down my skirt, and Cole licked his finger shamelessly while keeping his gaze on me. He put his hand down though when the door opened to reveal Tobias in the doorframe. He looked at me, then Cole and cloud shaded his eyes.

  My face flushed, it burns a brighter red as if I'm a teenager caught in a sex act by her father.

  “I forgot my briefcase,” said Tobias.

  My eyes roamed the room until I spotted it by the sofa. “There,” I said pointing to it.

  “Everything, okay?” he asked scrunching his eyes again at Cole.

  “Fine. Mr. Kane and I were discussing new business managers.”

  “Great,” he said. “I have a few names. Walk with me, Kane, and I’ll give you info on them.”

  “I guess that’s my cue,” said Cole as he stood. He turned his back deliberately away from Tobias and gave me a smirk. “If I have any questions about the material you send over, can I call you?”

  Yes. Yes. Yes. My heart pittered, then pattered.

  “If you need to, Mr. Kane,” I said coolly.

  “Great,” he said just as calmly. I tried to keep my eyes from his crotch but failed miserably, but didn’t see evidence of the raging erection that moments ago rubbed against my thigh. He flung his jacket over his arm though. “I’ll talk with you later, Miss Alexander.”

  He shot a smoldering glance over his shoulder, then straightened and talked casually with Tobias as if nothing untoward happened here in this office, my father’s place of business. As he left, I resisted the urge to squirm. I was on the brink of something I hadn’t had for a long time. In our own way, us ladies can get “blue balls” too.

  I didn’t know if I wanted to murder or fuck Cole Kane.

  But I stalked forward and locked my door. I couldn’t go through the day like this. I lay on the sofa and pulled up my skirt and touched the places that Cole’s hands roamed moments before. It wasn’t hard to get in the fantasy that it was Cole fingering me, making me soar. His musky scent was still in my nose, and the taste of his mouth lingered on mine, and it didn’t take long before I broke apart, stifling the urge to scream his name.

  It wasn’t the same as him doing it, but it took the edge off my need, one that I shouldn’t have had in the first place.

  I told Nadine to hold my calls while I went over the material the team put together for the Battle of the Bands. My email, in fact, had all of it. Some enterprising intern put each step in a dated spreadsheet, with links to the appropriate work. It was all very thorough which is why we paid people very well here. By the time I was ready to take a break, I had an excellent idea of how the project moved along. The venue was secured, the promos designed and the talk shows booked.

  By now I had convinced myself that my indiscretion with Cole Kane was a moment of foolishness that I would not repeat.

  I looked at my phone and saw it was past noon. With a guilty conscience, I remembered my father alone in the hospital. I should check up on him, and I called Anson to bring the car around. In the ten minutes it would take for Anson to bring the limo to the front, I called the project head, Susan Carter, a woman just a little older than myself who was way-too-smart for anyone’s good. If I weren’t the boss’s daughter, I’d worry for my job.

  “I’m on my way to see my father.”

  “Of course, Jacine. He should come first. Tell him we are all thinking about him."

  “I will. What venue did we book?”

  “We got the Hollywood Bowl,” she said enthusiastically.

  “Really?” It’s hard to impress me, but I’m calculating the bonus the woman should get for such a brilliant move. The Bowl was booked a year in advance, at least. “But how did we score that?”

  “We may have promised them half the profit of the gig.”

  I restrained a groan, but then we weren’t in it for the money anyway. Well, not the concert money. Our percentage of the entire deal would be big enough. I
’m running numbers in my head.

  “Tell me you promised them net, not gross.”

  “Yes, Jacine. Net. All the way.”

  “Good.” Then we wouldn’t get suckered into paying the costs while the Bowl sopped up the greater part of the profits. “And how did we get so lucky?”

  “They had a hole in their slot because a band’s singer had to go to rehab.”

  “Wait. When is this miracle date?”

  “Three weeks from today.”

  I gnashed my teeth into my lip. That was an impossibly tight schedule.

  “Don’t worry,” said Susan. “I have the team working double time. Mock promo materials are hitting the printers as we speak for your approval.”

  “Okay, send me the images on my phone, and I’ll look at them.”

  “You got it.”

  “And the talk shows?”

  “That’s the best part. Because of everything that happened last night they can’t wait to get the boys on. I’ve got a slot on The Nyberg Show for tomorrow night. They want all three of them, though.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I tried calling, but Nadine wouldn’t let me through. So I sent an email.”

  “Okay,” I said. My mind spun into gear with my best pitches to get the Terrible Trio to man up and cooperate. “I’ll get them there. What time is taping?”

  “4 PM and they want them there at two for make-up.”

  “Got it.”

  As I slung my bag over my shoulder, I walked into the outer office. A beautiful vase of white roses sitting on the corner of Nadine’s desk caught my eye.

  “Secret admirer?” I said.

  “They aren’t mine. They are yours.”

  “What?”

  I pulled the card from the bouquet and found only one word inside.

  Ever it said.

  I swallowed hard. Cole must have sent them. What the hell was I going to do now?

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jersey

  I owe Franklin Alexander. When Banshee folded, it was Franklin that encouraged me to go solo. He got me a manager and pointed me in the direction of some reliable contract players. With a handful of new songs, and his encouragement and PR mojo, I made my solo debut. So despite the hassle with security, the groupies and paparazzi, I decide to visit him after our little meeting with Ms. Take Charge.

  The last time I saw Jacine Alexander was at a pool party of her father’s mansion. She had just come home from college with a brand spanking new MBA, hence the shindig, and the excuse for Franklin to gather some of his biggest clients, one of them being my father, to celebrate his daughter’s milestone. Franklin strutted through that party as if he earned that degree himself. But the big secret is that Franklin, despite his veneer of education and culture didn’t make it past the eleventh grade. Only a precious few knew this, one of them being my father, one of Franklin’s first clients.

  In my very early twenties, I thought that Franklin was too “old” to handle the PR of a band of twenty-somethings, but I was wrong. In a town where your career could turn on the spread of a coke line, Franklin knew the right people to jingle, what buzz to spread. So when Jacine suggested her cheesy “battle of the bands” idea, I accepted it without question. She was at least as smart as her father, perhaps even more so. With her savvy looks and connections she could turn a fast food worker into an overnight sensation.

  I wasn’t prepared for what I saw in at the hospital though. First, the room was practically a jungle of floral arrangements of all shapes and sizes. But the bed and its occupant took center stage. Franklin, tied to tubes and monitors, and wearing a hospital gown, appeared old and worn out. It was a shock, and I had to take a step back and collect my thoughts before I entered. But when I did it was with the biggest smile I could pluck from my crippled heart.

  “Mr. Alexander, leave to it you to find the trendiest spas in LA.”

  “Dys, you dog. What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was thin and dry. When he coughed I poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the side table and handed it to him.

  “Checking up on you, since you have your daughter working like a slave.”

  Franklin scoffed. “Like I could stop her. The first thing she did was run out of here to take over my office.”

  “It’s your own fault she’s exactly like you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “When are you getting sprung?”

  “Probably tomorrow or the next day. They are still doing tests.”

  “Oh? Anything serious?”

  “More like they can’t find anything wrong and are running up the bill. I’ll be fine. And the sooner I’m out of here, the sooner I can get to work.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  The now familiar voice came from the doorway, where Jacine stood. Her red lips pursed in scathing disapproval. She strode toward his face and kissed him on the cheek.

  “You’ve been up to mischief, haven’t you?”

  “Oh,” she said with a wry smile. “I only spent a million or two.”

  “In six hours? You’re slipping.”

  “New York makes you aware of costs.”

  “Tell me about it. The financial damage of your apartment is more than our house.”

  “Ssh, you. How are you feeling?”

  “Annoyed. Bored. I want to get out of here.”

  “I’ll see if I can find a nice nurse to give you a medicinal massage.”

  He cracked a lopsided smile. “You are kind and evil at the same time. Go. Get an old man something worthwhile to drink. I’m tired of water.”

  “Sorry, sir. We can’t order off the menu.”

  “What? Your father can’t get a cup of coffee?”

  “I see what this fine establishment has on tap. Be right back.”

  With fluid grace, Jacine walked toward the nurse’s station.

  “Damn,” sputtered Franklin. “She’s asking the nurses.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  “Coffee is on the forbidden list for now.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. The damned nutritionist visited this morning and gave me a list of foods I can and can’t eat during my so-called recovery.”

  “Care to share?”

  “You don’t want to know. Anything with flavor.”

  “Sounds rough.”

  “My own fault,” he said. “And it makes a man think, too, about mistakes.”

  “We all have regrets.”

  “Yes, but I may have made a big one with Jacine.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I pushed her too hard, instilled this stupid work ethic in her. She doesn’t have any fun. Doesn’t see anyone outside of work.”

  “Oh?”

  “What happens in twenty years when she’s put all of herself into the business and none into her personal life?”

  “And there’s no little Alexanders to keep grandpa busy?”

  He stared at me with surprise like I wouldn’t understand.

  “My own pops been pushing me to marry. I’m not stupid. It’s not because he wants a daughter-in-law.”

  “Yeah. Well, he’d have to haul his ass from Spain to enjoy a grandkid.”

  “He might make the trip.”

  “I’m going to ask you for a favor. I know you’re not the type of guy to settle down.”

  “Wait? Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Shut up and listen. I want you to take Jacine out. Show her a good time. Let her start thinking about meeting someone.”

  “You want me to act as a teaser stallion to your daughter to get her to date?” I could not believe this.

  “Don’t make it sound awful. Show her a good time.”

  “A good time, as in—”

  He raised his hand. “I don’t need to know the details. And it doesn’t have to be anything serious. Jacine’s smart enough to know when someone is a keeper or not.”

  “Wow. Way to compliment someone into a favor.”

&nb
sp; “Damn it, Dys. Don’t tell me you aren’t too much into your own work to get serious about someone because in ten years I haven’t seen it.”

  That is very true. I worked like a dog. But here’s the thing. I’ve wanted to date Jacine Alexander since the first time I saw her. And, I was young and wasn't sure what I wanted except for a good time. But the day at that pool party to celebrate her graduation, I suddenly knew I wanted Jacine Alexander.

  Her bikini-clad form had played a prominent role in my sex fantasies for some years. If I didn’t have such full-on respect for Franklin Alexander, I would have asked her out. But among the things my father taught me was that you don’t mix business with pleasure.

  And now the man gave me permission to date her? No. He asked me to date her. As a favor.

  Should I pinch myself or slap myself in the face to see if I’m awake?

  “Okay, big talker,” said Jacine as she entered the room again. “Apparently you have a huge list of dietary restrictions for the time being, so no coffee for you.”

  “Busted,” I said quietly.

  Franklin shot me a scorching glance.

  “I can’t wait to get out of here so people won’t tell me what to do.”

  A knock on the door turned all heads toward it and, and the doctor walked in. He was tall, blond and looked anything but a doctor, but hey, this was LA. Tinseltown and Starland didn’t always serve up what you’d expect.

  “Hello, I’m Doctor Jones, a resident in Coronary Medicine. Dr. Alcord asked me to come speak to you about the test results.”

  “I should go,” I said.

  “No, Jersey. Stay,” said Franklin. “This shouldn’t take long, will it? I’m fine, and I can go home.”

  “No, actually, Mr. Alexander, we want to keep you here longer. We found a blockage in one of your arteries, and we want to fix that up.”

  “A blockage?” said Jacine. Her face turned white.

  “And you are?”

  “His daughter.”

  “The blockage is what caused the coronary incident. It’s not a total block, but I’m sure that Mr. Alexander, has been suffering from some shortness of breath.”

  “Dad?” said Jacine.

  “So I get a little winded.”