Back inside, one of the record company executives approaches me. “Jason, just the man I was looking for.”

“Mark,” I greet him with a frown, my mind on the women.

“Quite a party. My favorite aspect of my job, the groupies,” he smirks, casting a quick glance around the undulating dance floor. “Perfect location, by the way.”

“Gave us the space we needed,” I nod, still distracted.

“So, I was thinking we promote the release with the single, Time Doesn’t Fly.”

“Nope. We’re going with Just For Me.”

His eyebrows rise and he crosses his arms, unconvinced. “I think the other one is more of a dance tune.”

Tune? Man, I get that you’re square and older than your dye-job would have me believe, but come on.

The suits behind the magic never get it. They can’t. Music isn’t in their blood. Money is.

“Mark, if you just heard what I did you’d know Just For Me is going to be huge.” He looks at me with curiosity. Motioning toward the outside smoking area I tell him, “Simone just did an a cappella version of it for the crowd back there that was so fucking good I have no choice but to remix a version in that direction.”

“Really,” he nods, interest piqued. “She just sang out of the blue like that. Hell of a press idea. We should film it.”

“You said no cameras,” I remind him.

“That was before,” he smirks. “Know anyone?”

“Of course I do. This is my city. Give me half an hour.” I walk off and pull out my phone to call my buddy Jimmy Vay, a videographer who covers a lot of the live music events here in Atlanta. In a matter of seconds he confirms he’ll be here. I nod to Mark across the room. His stiff co-executives lean in while he presumably tells them the plan.

But now I have to convince Simone. And frankly my feelings about her are a little muddled at the moment and I don’t know why.

“I need a second to get my head back on straight,” I mutter, alone as I watch thongs jiggling in front of me. From between them Justin emerges with his hair all fucked up. The look on his face makes me smile. “That good, huh?”

“Dirty little angel, that one,” he smirks. “What’s with your face?”

“You mean your face?” I throw back, pointing at him. “You’re so fucking pleased with yourself, it’s hilarious.”

He frowns, “Yeah, well yours looks like you just faced a guillotine.”

“For my balls, maybe,” I snort, unable to deny he’s read me correctly. “I have to convince Simone to sing a cappella. And I might have to go through Sarah to make it happen if she turns me down. Not looking forward to it.”

“The attention-whore won’t balk.”

Pushing his shoulder, I warn him, “Don’t use ‘whore’ in reference to her ever again, ya hear me?”

Unfazed he smirks, “Attention-whore is not a prostitute. It’s a common term. Don’t get your boxers in a bunch.”

My shoulders relax. “I’m going commando.”

“Me too,” he grins. “Helped enormously just now.” He cocks his head. “Why are you so tightly wound up all of a sudden? When I left you…”

I’m one breath away from confessing I accidentally kissed Sarah but instead I interrupt him with, “Simone just did the song for an audience, and she’ll think it’s inauthentic to perform it again for a camera.”

He scoffs, “A hundred bucks you’re wrong.”

“You owe me two hundred already.”

“Great, then after I win I’ll owe only one.”

“Get ready to owe me three.” I stroll back out into the twinkle lights with him following. Simone is centered like a firefly in a swarm of gnats. Damn is she beautiful.

Her redheaded she-bitch glances over at our approach and her jaw hardens instantly. Our eyes lock for a second longer than they should and mine narrow on her. It’s not easy to look away for some reason.

“Simone,” I call out, all business. At my tone and mid-sentence, she glances over. “Need to talk to you.”

“Excuse me, everyone,” she smiles. They part to let her by, but their eyes linger. Men and women, they both worship her for different reasons.

My twin coughs. He can’t wait to win.

“What is it, sexy,” Simone smiles.

“Oh, no, it’s Jason who’s talking to you, Simone. Not me. Direct your compliments his way.”

She throws him a look. “I meant him, Justin.”

As my brother winks at her I glance to Sarah again and find her watching me in an unguarded way. She turns her face, acting like I didn’t just catch her.

Back to Simone, I inhale and shove my hands in my pockets, voice deep and nonchalant as I explain, “We heard about your singing out here, and Mark wants to video you doing it again, inside to the bigger crowd. For publicity.”

Her slender eyebrows fly up as her cherub lips fall open. “Really?”

Phew. She is a stunner.

Simone is the type of beautiful I fall hard for – the ethereal, waif types. Like Bernie Lancaster and half a dozen other women who’ve held my balls in a sling. Tall, lanky blondes that look like they could be fairies in a flower-laden forest. And the fact that Simone can sing is like pouring lighter fluid on my cock.

“And I came up with an idea for the remix where we do it solely a cappella until the very end.” I pause for effect. “Then we’ll have a boy’s choir come in and harmonize.”

That inspiration just hit as I was talking.

That’s how good I am.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, into it.

Sarah had been standing back, listening. At this she steps forward with that stubborn face of hers. “We have to be getting back home, Simone.”

“Why?”

The women lock eyes and a silent battle takes place. Throwing up her hands, Sarah steps back into the shadows. “Fine.” She locks eyes with me for a hot moment. She hates my guts. Strange kiss or no, the feeling is mutual and stronger than ever.

“I think that sounds amazing, Jason,” Simone smiles, touching my lapel. “I’m so glad I thought of it.”

My brother snorts.

As her eyes cut his way, I explain, “She did think of it. She sang it a cappella without my knowing she planned to do that. Hell, I only heard about it. Wasn’t even a witness.”

Why am I lying about that?

“Making it an actual song is your idea,” he argues. “And the choir is all you. I saw your face just now. That idea just hit you so don’t play it off like it was her.”

Knowing the ego of music artists, I hastily deflect, “Simone’s a genius. She would have come up with that on her own.”

Now Sarah snorts.

Simone turns her head, making her redheaded friend drop the entertained smile.

Simone’s neck lengthens as she slides her arm around mine to lead me back to the main party. She smiles at me like I’m the only man on the planet. “When are we going to film?” Over her shoulder she asks Sarah, “You did fix my wing right? You didn’t fuck it up more?”

I glance back and frown. It stung Sarah to be talked down to like that as if she’s some incompetent servant, and in public. Simone never talks to her that way. An odd protectiveness overtakes me as the redhead forces a smile and answers, “Of course, Simone, you look perfect.”

I’m about to say something. Why I would cut my own dick off to come to that tiny she-bitch’s aid makes no sense to me, but here I go opening my mouth to call Simone out. My words die on my tongue when she squeezes my arm and smiles up into my eyes, numbing my brain with her beauty.

Under his breath Justin mutters, “Won the bet.”

“What bet?” she asks me and not him.

“He bet me I wouldn’t bum a cigarette.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Just quit. He’s keeping me honest,” I smile, glancing to my brother with a look that says if you tell her I’ve never smoked a cigarette in my life, I’ll knock you out.

He really wants to tell her what he thinks of her, and that I just lied. It would make him happier than when he was balls deep in that woman earlier to get Simone so pissed that she might fuck up her performance, and then blame me. That would make Justin’s whole year.

Because he hates every girl I’ve ever dated.

Always has, always will.

Off my warning look he licks his lips and smiles.