I didn’t want to do this.

I really didn’t want to do this.

Most women would be thrilled at the chance to work with Reb Union. I’d never heard any of his music, but I doubted that was the draw. I’d seen enough pictures of him to know it wasn’t just the money either. He had the sort of features that could only be described as pretty, and was six four, with an amazing body, and bronze hair that always looked like he’d just climbed out of bed. Added to that, the most uniquely colored irises I’d ever seen, and wow. Indigo. As in almost purple.

One of his endorsement deals was with a suit company, and someone on the marketing team had been absolutely brilliant. They’d had the color leached from everything except his eyes.

I might not like musicians – or most people, for that matter – but I wasn’t a nun. He was gorgeous.

Not that it mattered. I knew better than to let a pretty face and hard body be anything more than fantasy fodder. The fact that he was a musician just made it easier to remember.

It hadn’t been easy yesterday, not giving Sybil a list of reasons why this was a bad idea. If I had, she would’ve wanted to know why, and that wasn’t anything I wanted to share, not with my boss, not with anyone. I loved my mother, and I was proud of everything she’d done to raise me on her own. I’d never let anyone say anything bad about her.

But that didn’t mean I wanted to advertise the fact that she didn’t know who my father was.

Just after she turned sixteen, she ran off to follow her boyfriend’s band, but they’d broken up only a few weeks into the tour. Instead of going home, she’d moved on to a different member of a different band. For nearly six years, she gone from one musician to another, sometimes between a couple guys. Sometimes they shared her. She’d been into the whole sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll thing, never thinking about the future.

She’d always been honest about that, about why, and when she realized she was pregnant, she didn’t have any way to figure out who my father was unless she asked for paternity tests. It hadn’t mattered to her back then because she’d known that, whoever it was, he wouldn’t want to be a father, and she’d never be able to count on him for any sort of support.

So, my father was either a washed-up wanna-be rock god, or he’d actually managed to accomplish his dream, but either way, he wasn’t the sort of man my mom had been able to count on. Which meant I’d learned young to not count on anyone other than myself and my mother.

“Are you going to get in the elevator, or just stand there, staring at it?”

The snide question pulled my attention back to the immediate present, and I managed not to scowl at the woman impatiently tapping her toe at me.

“Sorry about that,” I offered as I stepped onto the elevator. That was the best she was going to get from me. I didn’t appreciate getting a dirty look from someone who looked like she was doing a late walk of shame.

Her glare didn’t get any friendlier when I pushed the button for the top floor. It was on the tip of my tongue to make up some lie about dating Reb, but I couldn’t bring myself to even joke about it.

She got off on the seventh floor, and I rode the rest of the way up on my own. I didn’t fall back into memories of my past though. No, I kept those firmly pushed down. This wasn’t about me or my dislike of a particular group of people. This was work. I needed to be professional.

When I knocked on his door, I was focused and ready for anything.

Anything but realizing that Reb was better-looking in real life than he was in any of the pictures I’d seen.

He looked down at me, his eyes blood-shot and half-focused, then gave me one of those far-too-charming grins that guys like him seemed to master in the cradle.

“Mr. Union?” I bit back a moan at how lame I sounded. Like he was anyone else. “I’m Paige Ryce, your PR rep.”

He stepped back from the door and made a sweeping gesture with one tattooed arm. I couldn’t make out what the designs were without staring, so I ignored my curiosity and went inside.

“If I would’ve known I could order someone like you, I might not have been so pissed at Chester for doing it without asking.”

I turned as he closed the door, folding my arms so I could give him a stern look. The alcohol fumes wafting off him were almost enough to make my eyes water. He was drunk. No surprise there.

“I’m here to discuss what my firm will do for you.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted choosing them. His gaze narrowed in on me, something predatory in his eyes. I had to fight to stop from taking a step back. He wouldn’t hurt me. That wasn’t the underlying danger I saw. No, it was the kind that made my stomach twist.

“I can think of a whole lot of things that fine ass can do for me.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How much have you had to drink today, Mr. Union?”

He gave me that grin again, the one that I knew he thought was so charming. “It’s a compliment, Ms. Ryce.”

“Today is just a preliminary meeting,” I went back to the speech I’d originally planned. “We’ll discuss the image issues we’ll be working to correct, as well as any suggestions we can come up with to give us a place to start.”

“Really?” He sauntered toward me with far more grace than an intoxicated person should have. “That’s what you want to do? Talk? I can think of a lot of things that are more fun than talking.”

If this was the way our conversations were going to go, I could think of a lot of things I’d rather be doing, but I wasn’t going to take the bait. This might be a giant joke to him, but it wasn’t to me. This was my job, my future, and I’d be damned if some drunken rock star ruined it for me.