CHAPTER FOUR
Cole
Boss lady is hot.
Her blonde hair betray dark roots, but I like that look. So much better than the groupies with wild colors like neon pink or goth purple. And her body is kicking, with shapely legs that go on forever and crowned with generous hips that make me drool. I’m a hip man, though I appreciate her slim waist and round breasts. She packaged all of this in a gray skintight sheath with elbow length sleeves and a short stand-up collar that cut in a “v” that barely reached her ample cleavage. The dress clings to every screaming curve like a race car navigating the Grand Prix that showcased her to be all woman beneath her business veneer. But call me kinky. Put that hair up into a bun and settle some thick black glasses on her nose and I could do the librarian all night long. There is something about uptight that coils my springs, and I can tell this lady needs to unwind—big time.
I keep my jacket on my lap because big guy likes Ms.Uptight faster than my hungover brain registers. He’s ready to go, while my brain, in my half-hungover state, held my head upright out of spite. I still wore my sunglasses, because the light in the room was too bright, and the peppermint schnapps I used as a mouthwash didn’t do the job of cleansing the whiskey from my breath. My head pounded enough to make me cranky as fuck, and I was ready to throw a punch at Jersey Dys just on general principles. The only thing that held back my natural inclination to pound his smug pretty boy smile was my first observation.
Boss lady was hot.
Concentrating on her was job one.
And I was not too hungover to recognize the depthless and utter shit we were all in from the fiasco at Angelo’s.
My business manager called me this morning and quit. Something about not wanting to get sued because he had a fiduciary responsibility for the actions of any member of the band. I made a mental note to call the accountants to make sure that the asshole didn’t steal my money because that would be the first job of a business manager, as happens so often in this industry. But I realize I don’t have a clue about the state of the band finances and I had to get a handle on that. Maybe boss lady had a line on one or two reputable dudes that could take the business manager position. I made a mental note to hang back to ask her.
Rory made a rude noise at boss lady’s suggestion that we hold a battle of the bands concert.
“I don’t do anything without discussing it with band management.”
Her red lips parted in a half-evil smile that went straight to my cock, and her eyes glittered.
“Proof one of the total mess you made of this, Mr. Holmes. Your manager quit.”
Oh ho, so I’m not the only one. And then I wondered how the lovely Jacine knew this. And if she knew about my manager.
“In fact,” she said. “The management of all three bands quit.”
That answered that question. This chick is good.
But, yeah. Franklin Alexander’s daughter. She would be, pumped full of Ivy League education and schooled in the business since before she could walk.
“And Attorney Marshall,” she nodded toward lawyer man, “will have to send letters to all of them reminding them of their contractual obligations to keep their mouths shut. Which will be difficult considering the publishers who probably called them this morning looking for tell-all book deals.”
“Already done, Jacine,” said the attorney. Shit, he did look like a lawyer too. How did I miss that?
“I should have known,” she said with a slight upturn of her lips. Wait. Did she gaze at the attorney with affection? Was Miss Uptight unwinding with Mr. Lawyer Man?
Oh, no. Not on my watch. Because it does not escape my attention that I follow every movement of Ms. Jacine Alexander with attention I reserved for my guitar. If my mouth weren’t so dry from my morning ablution of peppermint schnapps, I would drool with every graceful gesture of that oh-so-fuckable body.
Nope. There was one thing I was sure of is that I would have Ms. Jacine Alexander under me, and the sooner, the better.
“I like the idea,” I said.
“What?” snapped dickhead Dys. “When did you get agreeable?”
“Along about the time when you threatened me with a chair.”
“That was you, asshole, threatening me,” snorted Dys.
“Enough,” said Jacine. I even like the stern way she speaks. It sends a kinky shiver through me. I wonder if she was into whips.
Oh, the possibilities.
“On second thought, I agree,” said Rory. But then Rory would agree to a ham sandwich when he wanted caviar. He could pound out the drums like he was the god of thunder, but what the man truly wanted was peace and harmony.
Dickhead.
But now I like that Rory was agreeing with me, which would surely piss off Dys.
Good.
“What about it, Mr. Dys?” said Jacine laser focusing her eyes on him. Oh, yes. Like that old Queen lyric, "Dynamite with a laser beam." Yeah. That was Ms. Jacine Alexander.
For a microsecond, uncertainty flickered in his eyes. Then he caught me shooting a lustful glance at boss lady, and his lips curled. What evil thought did that fuck gestate now?
“Okay,” he said. It was too easy. Dys never gave up anything easily, not even his precious body while touring. He looked around the room appraising everyone’s reaction and stood.
“Apparently I have a lot of band business to straighten out. Send me details through email, or call if you wish, Miss Alexander.”
“I’ll get going too,” said Rory.
The lawyer looked at his watch.
“I need to get back to my office. I’ll call you later, Jacy?”
She nodded. “Sure thing.”
I’m wondering if boss lady and lawyer man is a sure thing, but I don’t think so. She keeps avoiding his eyes. Nope. If anything is going on there, it is unrequited. Though lawyer man isn’t as smart as he appears if he passes up on the lovely woman commanding all of us like a five-star general.
“Coming, Kane?” said Rory.
“Nope.” And that’s all I said. I don’t have to give those butt plugs any answers.
The lawyer man shot laser beams with his eyes at me and then flicked his gaze to Jacine, but she appeared unconcerned.
“If you wish to stay, Mr. Kane. I have five minutes.”
Oh, I wish. And want. Most definitely want.
With as hot as she made me, it wouldn’t take five minutes. But as the other men filed out of the room and lawyer man shut the door, I fix my attention on the goddess and attempted business talk. It was a losing battle.
“Do you have any names of business managers? Apparently, I need one.”
Her eyes raked my dissolute body, and I saw a spark there, the adoring look you see in a fan’s eyes when she’s holding out something for you to autograph. But she concealed her fangirl delight under a patina of professionalism that I wanted to crack and crumble under my touch.
“I’ll look through my contacts,” she said with a distance that concealed her inner groupie.
“Great. I’ll look forward to it.” I stood because there is one way to get shy fangirl to chase you is to leave. But her eyes didn’t show panic, which I’m betting on is just an act. Beneath her all-business gray sheath dress beats the heart of a teen, who cried her eyes out to Ever, the signature hit of the band Banshee I formed with those dipsticks Dys and Holmes.
I take a few steps and listen for intake of her breathing which was calm and regular. But I know if I walk out this door now, lawyer man will have his hands all over her, and who knows? She might be into daddy play.
Nope. I’m her daddy now. She doesn’t know it.
Yet.
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.