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Authors: Desiree Holt

BOOK: Aftershock
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Her mouth curved in a tiny smile. “I don’t know if
you’ll
knock
my
socks off, but I hope to do that for you.”

Lady, you already do. In more ways than one
.

She held out her hand.

Rick took it in his larger one. The electricity that zapped between them stunned him. Sydney’s eyes widened and a faint blush crept up her cheeks. A little gasp escaped her mouth like a puff of wind. They stood there, gazes locked, until at last she dragged her hand away.

“Okay, then.” Her voice was breathless, choppy, as if she’d just run a marathon. “Good-bye.”

Rick shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and stared after her little red car as it pulled out of the parking lot, wondering what the hell had just happened. And what, if anything, he did he intend to do about it?

 

***

 

Sydney tossed her briefcase onto a chair, her keys into the dish on the little table by the front door, and headed for her bedroom.
Bath. Right now.
At the office, Linc Forrester had played Twenty Questions with her about her Lightnin’ meeting, and she had done some fancy footwork to convince him she had things under control.

Yeah, under control. Right. When just looking at Rick Trajean makes me so wet I’m surprised I don’t drown in my own scent. When my heart does somersaults and some emotion deep inside me fights to break loose
.

Still, Linc was pleased to know she had a second meet set up. She’d listened with as much patience as she could as he explained how he thought she should handle it and reminded her to give him a full report afterward. She wanted to tell him she didn’t need a babysitter but deep down, when she wasn’t being obsessive about it, she knew Linc’s main objective was to keep Butch Meredith happy. Deep Blue River lit up the charts, filled concert halls, and showed up on everyone’s television screens. Linc wouldn’t want to screw up the deal by pissing off Meredith’s new baby band.

Neither did she, but she’d planned for this since the day she first took the job at Full Moon. No, long before that. Way back in high school, she began to put The Plan together. The battle would not be easy, but she needed to do this so desperately.

And keep her emotions and her sexual response packed away. Preferably in some freezer.

Stripping off her clothes she turned on the faucets in the big spa tub in her bathroom and dumped in some bath salts. While waiting for the tub to fill she pulled on a shortie robe and headed to the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. She lit a cinnamon-scented candle, eased into the heated water, and started the jets. Then she leaned back, took a sip of the wine, and let out a slow breath.

Just what I needed after a real bitch of a day
.

She hated that she and Rick Trajean had butted heads from the get-go, but she’d watched other agents work and knew how important it was to establish who was in charge when dealing with newbies. The band could take care of the music, the manager would handle the staging, and the publicity person created the image. That was the way it was done. Why couldn’t they understand?

Another sip of wine and the liquid slid through her veins, easing the tension of the day. Closing her eyes, she let the fatigue slip from her body.

 

She had never seen eyes so dark, like bitter chocolate, yet so alight with heat. The man seemed to see into every corner of her soul. He’d wanted to shave but she loved the day’s growth of beard shadowing his jaw. The rough stubble accented the masculine lines of his face, the strong curve of his jaw.

“I should shave first.” His voice was low and rough, its timbre vibrating through her body. “I’ll hurt your skin.”

“That’s okay.” She touched his face. “It will make me remember you.”

“I plan to give you something more than beard burn,” he growled.

His arms tightened around her and his fingers threaded through her hair, cradling her head in his palm. When his mouth touched hers, the contact was so electric it snapped through her nerve endings. As rough as his beard was, his lips were as smooth. And his tongue! Oh, Lord, it slipped into her mouth and danced around like a live flame.

He pulled his mouth from hers with obvious reluctance, but in the next moment he pressed his lips to her neck, nibbling and sucking and licking. She could barely remember him easing them out of their clothes and onto the bed. But now she felt the cool smoothness of the sheets against her hot back as Rick covered her with his long, lean body. The hard thickness of his cock was a heated brand against her thigh, his balls just brushed against her skin.

His mouth blazed a trail along her collarbone before finding that erogenous spot behind her ear and teasing it with his tongue. One large hand slid along her rib cage until it reached her breast. His lean fingers were rough with calluses accumulated from years of playing the guitar and she loved the uneven feel of them.

Sliding her hands down the length of his back, she reached his buttocks and dragged her fingernails over the skin. He groaned and his heated cock flexed against her. She moved her leg just enough to trap him between her thighs and squeezed.

“Any more of that and this party will be over before it starts,” he groaned. “I don’t want to come until I’m inside you and the walls of your sweet pussy grab me like a vise.”

His words made those very walls flex and convulse, hungry for his hard length to fill them. She was sure electricity was attached to his mouth sucking her nipples, sending jolts straight to her pussy. She tried to move against him, the feel of the hair on his chest against her skin so sensuous, but his strong hands held her firmly in place.

She wanted to cry out in protest when his mouth left its grip on her taut bud until he moved it to the other one. His finger and thumb closed around the pebbled flesh he’d just tormented and squeezed and rubbed it. Sydney was sure she was going to come from nothing more than his attention to her breasts. But before she could, his mouth was gone and his tongue traced patterns between her mounds, then trailed down to her navel.

He swirled the tip into the furled flesh, sending tremors racing through her. She arched up to him and moved her thighs farther apart. A current of air skimmed over the surface of her body but as turned on as she was, it did little to cool her heated skin. She nudged him with her hips, silently begging him to drive his cock inside her and—

Splash!

Sydney fought her way up under from the heavily scented bathwater, coughed up the fluid she’d inhaled and slicked her wet hair from her eyes.

What on earth?

The dream.
Holy crap!

The pulse in her cunt beat furiously, demanding attention in the aftereffects of the fantasy. Fantasy? How had that happened? All she’d done was immerse herself in a relaxing bath, sip chilled wine, and focus on the flickering candlelight.

And dream about sex with Rick Trajean!

Ohmigod!

Ignoring the vibrations that pulsed through her, she punched off the jets, flicked the stopper, and climbed out of the tub. Disoriented, she nearly knocked over the wine, grabbing it just in time. With a what-the-hell shrug, she drained its contents and reached for the big bath towel on the counter. Water squished between her toes. A glance down confirmed she’d done a number on the floor when she attempted to save herself from drowning. Maybe the cleanup would remind her of the foolishness of daydreams.

But she couldn’t get it out of her mind. With the force of a sudden wind, it slammed back into her brain, the image of their naked bodies, the feel of his hands and his mouth on her—

Stop it! This is business.

Yeah, try telling that to her traitorous body. Or to the unfamiliar emotions rocketing through her. Even as she smoothed lotion into her skin, she imagined Rick’s hands stroked her, touching all the right places. His fingers slid into her, curling so the tips scraped her sweet spot, while his thumb teased her clit.

Well, damn it all anyway. She tried giving herself a lecture while she dried her hair and brushed her teeth.

He’s just a guy. Nothing special. But most important, he’s a client, so no dreams. Never. Ever.

But Rick Trajean was walking sex and her body ignored her words. She needed to get herself under control over the next two days, before she saw him again.

 

***

 

“So what did she say?” Danny asked, as he helped himself to a slice of pizza. “She had a lot of nerve to barge into rehearsal the way she did. I hope you told her about that.”

They’d gathered for dinner at Pizza and Pasta, the other members of the band anxious for details of Rick’s meeting with Sydney Alexander. Marc had even brought Emma, his bride to be. Their romance had seen some rocky ups and downs, but now they were the icons for the happy couple, with their wedding not too far off. Most of the time now they beat a retreat at the end of the day to the home they shared. But everyone knew how important this whole thing was—the concert, the CD, the publicity. No one wanted to screw up, by themselves or with anyone else.

“She’s the agent responsible for our promo with Full Moon.” Rick chose his words carefully. “I guess she thought rehearsal was the best place to get us all together.”

“But to just walk in like that?” Garrett shook his head. “Shouldn’t she have told us she was coming? And what’s with the attitude?”

Sydney Alexander definitely had that. Rick wondered if it was just an accident that her last named began with the same letter as attitude. The word fit her like a glove. But as the leader of the band it was his responsibility to smooth things over, keep the members reassured, and handle any glitches that came along.

Like Sydney.

“This is part of the whole deal with Butch,” he explained. “He wants our name out there and some excitement generated before the tour kicks off and the first single releases. She has some ideas about how to promote the band.” He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully. “I listened to her, she listened to me.” Sort of.

“So is she all hacked off at us now?” Garrett wanted to know. “I can’t figure out who messed up here.”

“We both did. I shouldn’t have jumped all over her, and she apologized for not prearranging her visit.” Not. “She’s only seen tapes of us, so I invited her to rehearsal day after tomorrow.” He held up a hand against the expected objections. “We’ll plan for it. Put a tight set together. Show her what Lightnin’ really is.”

“What exactly does she want to do?” Garrett wanted to know. “What kind of plans does she have? Did she tell you? Butch never really went over specifics with us.”

“We touched on it.” Rich mentally organized his words the way he did with his sister. “Full Moon wants to create a lot of buzz before the single hits and we hit the first concert date. They aren’t novices. We both agreed Sydney needs to get a real feel for the band before we move forward.”

“I’d like to get a real feel for
her,”
Garrett joked.

Rick slanted a hard look at him. “Not funny, Gar. She’s off limits. This is strictly business.” He hoped he could remember that himself. He could still feel the tingle in his body from the brief physical contact with Miss Sydney Alexander.

“Yeah. We don’t want to piss off Full Moon or Butch,” Danny put in. “But we can’t let them to make us into something we’re not, either.”

“Why don’t you all relax until she comes back to rehearsal.” Emma wiped a trace of pizza sauce from her mouth. “The agency wouldn’t have assigned her to you unless they were sure she could do the job. Butch Meredith is a big client and they want to take good care of him.”

“That’s my lady. The voice of reason.” Marc looped his arm around her, drawing her close, and kissed her.

“Not in front of the children, please,” Rick joked. “Seriously, though. Emma’s right. We have to trust Butch and the people he hires. So let’s put on a good show for Sydney and make her understand what Lightnin’ is all about.”

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

Sydney sat in her car in front of the old theater and checked herself one last time in the mirror in her sun visor. Rather than show up in a power suit today, she’d decided to play down her image a little, although not her determination. Now, after five changes of clothing she wore a pair of studded jeans with a billowy, tailored blouse. She’d redone her makeup and added tiny gold hoops at her ears.

And why do I even care? This is business, Syd.

Yeah, right. That’s why you’ve fantasized about the hottest man you’ve seen in ages. Maybe ever.

She inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calm. She needed to relax. And have her shit together. This assignment would make or break it for her, and she couldn’t afford to screw it up. Time to put her hormones into cold storage, at least until this was over.

Right.

She’d spent the past two nights going over all of her notes and once again researching the images and campaigns of similar bands on the Internet. Watching the videos. Making notes about them. Not that she hadn’t been compiling this information forever. She hadn’t just stuck to this decade, either, but went back to bands that had been propelled out of the herd and stayed in front. She wanted something different for Lightnin’. Out of the ordinary. Something that would make them stand out from the crowd. Capture everyone’s imagination. She just had to make the guys see it.

And, down deep, she wanted the industry’s acknowledgment that Sydney Alexander had plucked Lightnin’ from the masses and created a star property, making them exceptional. A win-win, right?

Okay. Here I go
.

Leaving her briefcase in the car this time, she stuck her iPad in her purse and strode into the theater. Checked her watch. Right on the dot of five o’clock. Good. She pulled open the door and the cool darkness of the lobby embraced her. The sounds of the band tuning up reached out through the inner doors.

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