CRASH & BURN (Rule Breaker) (8 page)

“Nothing too demonic. I think it came out pretty tame.” Christy pulled down her thong, revealing a snake curving around her hip, dipping down between her legs.

Alana shuttered her eyes. “Girl, enough. I no longer need eyeballs after that show.”

“Hot. Don’t you think? Billy doesn’t even know.”

“Ya know, maybe Billy thinks you push the boundaries, too. You guys might try talking this out.” She turned around, unwilling to flash Christy with a show of bite marks speckled across her breasts.

Fully changed into robes, they exited the dressing room. Clarissa held her forehead, shaking her head while speaking into her phone. Andy gazed down the hall at them, his brows drawn together. Clarissa paced and talked. “Well, Andy’s already mixed the colorant. Why not let him do a swatch of her hair and then decide? Call me back. Right away.”

Clarissa saw them and relaxed her face, immediately transforming. “Ready?”

“This way, ladies,” Andy murmured.

The energy had changed remarkably. What was so stressful about hair? Christy chatted away while Alana observed the interplay between Clarissa and the stylist that involved direct and indirect exchanges of expressions and silent mouthing of phrases.

“Here we are,” Andy announced. His
corner
was an understatement. More like a large office with four chairs, a sofa, and small kitchenette, and a ton of fashion magazines from all over the world.

Alana sat down as Andy turned on a light. Another man entered wearing a forest green plaid kilt. She stared at the man’s tan, hairless legs, and the combination with his masculine physique was enough to make her rapidly glance over at Christy. For once, her friend was slack-jawed.

“Bobby, you know Clarissa. Today we’ll be working on Alana and Christy, the missing pussy cats.”

“Me-ow,” Bobby said, smiling. “I found these. Will they do?”

“Perfect. Hon,” Andy said, peering over at Christy. “Tell me what you’re thinking of doing.”

“A trim. Colored tips. The same color as my eyes. Is that possible?”

“Anything you can imagine, we can do. Bobby, do a color match. Christy, go with him and be kind. He’s a virgin where women are concerned.”

“Is that true?” Christy asked Bobby.

“Afraid so,” he responded, laughing as he sat her down in a salon chair.

Andy brought the ring of hair swatches over to Alana. “According to the screen test, we want to play up your golden highlights and deepen your skin tone. A couple of tanning sessions, and we’ll do some highlights and lowlights. A cut to accentuate your cheekbones.” He gave her a printout in which he’d managed to do all he said with her face and hair.

“I like it. A lot.”

Clarissa’s phone rang. “We’re about to begin. What?” Clarissa looked sharply over to her. “Fine. No. It’s your decision. I’ll relay. Hold on.” Clarissa stared from Alana to Andy.

“Jon said absolutely no color change. He wants her hair color to remain the same. Adamant on that issue. As far as I can tell, Andy, you can wash her hair.”

“What? No highlights? But I like the effect. May I speak with him?” Alana asked, her heartbeat racing as though she’d been running a decathlon.

“By all means,” Clarissa said.

“Excuse me,” Alana said before she stepped back into the hallway. “Hello. The hair color is beautiful.”

“I don’t want your hair color to change. Is that understood?” Jon said. His steely, seductive voice made a tingle begin at the base of her spine.

“I don’t agree.”

“We already know there will be times you and I won’t see eye-to-eye, sweetheart. Also, absolutely no tanning salon. I don’t want your skin tone any different from this morning.”

She stared at the wall, a cloud of heat moving rapidly up her body. She inhaled. “Anything else, Mr. Lansing?”

“No haircut. Trimming is pushing it. Washed. That’s it.” The sound of his voice had her biting her lip.

“Why go to the trouble and expense of a screen test if you’re not going to use the results?”

“This is the process and we go through the steps to stay on track, Alana. Do you need a reminder of how committed I am to your future?”

Christ, the slight dominating growl in his voice had her gripping the phone. Was he referring to this morning and her splayed over his lap? Holy hell, she imagined his fingers thrusting into her, two at a time. A heat wave blazed over her face, and she didn’t need a mirror to know she was now neck-deep in the blush overtaking her.

“Maybe,” she said, whispering.

“I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not here in my office. What I’d like to do to you…has nothing to do with hair color or makeup. You’d better follow my directions or I’ll be round straight away and pick you up. I can spank you in the back of a car just as pretty as you please. Apparently, your earlier lesson didn’t make the impact I’d hoped.”

“No. I very much remember what happened.”

“Then act like it. I expect you to make it to your voice lesson, unchanged and on time. You’ve your first press conference later today, and then we need to meet and go over what transpired today in court.”

“You mean the whole band?”

“No. Just you, initially. Tomorrow morning we’re meeting together. The band is setting up at a studio right now. I heard you had Christy with you.”

“Right.” She waited to hear if he was going to fight her on that front.

“Tonight, then.”

“What, no special directions for Christy? She can just get a Mohawk if she wants one?”

“Sweetheart, she could have dreads and it wouldn’t make a difference. You, on the other hand, I want to return to me with no changes from last night.”

Alana walked down the hall, away from the open doorway with four pairs of eyes staring back. Finally, in the dressing room, she whispered, “And the bruises on my ass?”

“If you keep opening that door, I will come through it and find you. Is that what you want?”

Her whole body wanted him, and yet she struggled with the words. Closing her eyes, the image of him naked, moving on top of her, thrusting into her deeply while he kissed her, commanded her, had her hovering. On the brink. She longed to straddle his lap and take him into her, filling her until she cried out his name as his cock stretched her flesh. The pain and pleasure tangling as he drove into her and crafted a glowing climax. A rush like the one he’d delivered them into last night and this morning. “I can’t lie. Of course I do.”

“We’ll talk later tonight. Figure something out. But you’d better get here without a hair on your head missing. Do you understand me?”

Was he putting her off? Perhaps he’d tell her tonight that this was too much work and nothing to gain except a pain in his ass.

“Perfectly,” she muttered.

“I’ve given the driver directions on the rest of your day. He’ll take Christy to the studio and then the band is moving to a house I’ve leased over in East Nashville. Enough bedrooms for everyone, including a pool and security. I think it will work out.”

“Aren’t you on the West side?”

“Yes. Near the office. The East Side is cool. I believe more in tune with Orion. Do you have other concerns?”

So that was it. He was shedding her from his life. Tonight, without the band, he’d tell her the truth. Why else would he make arrangements for the band to live on the other side of town?

“Not one. Fine. I’ll see you later as you’ve planned.” She didn’t wait to hear his last remarks. With the call over, she walked down the hall, her heart thudding in her chest. Plastering one of her practiced smiles on her face, she entered Andy’s salon space, ready to laugh at her own idea. There on the counter, she spotted a pair of scissors.

Clarissa lifted off one of the chairs. “What did you work out?”

Alana handed back Clarissa’s phone. “Oh, you know men like Mr. Lansing. They have little understanding of all this.” Waving her arm around, she edged closer to the counter, and nonchalantly picked up the scissors.

“Amen, sister.” Andy smiled.

“I, on the other hand, would like my hair cut. Sort of like this.” Without waiting, Alana curled her fingers around a thick handful of her hair. Gazing in the mirror, she cut off the handful of her hair just below her chin. She met Andy’s shocked expression in the mirror and her smile widened. “Think you can get the other side?”

“Holy crap,” Clarissa said, her mouth having dropped open as the color drained from her face. “We are so screwed.”

Chapter Six

The manager of the Hyatt led Jon toward the large meeting room set up with an open bar; the press had started to arrive. Jon motioned to Pauline and a few of his own staff, and then nodded his head to each person he encountered as he moved through the room, or stopped to converse with those he deemed to be kick-ass entertainment journalists.

By the time he’d made it around the room, he’d had the chance to lay the foundation of the spin he desired for Alana. Now, all he needed was his client and the press would do the rest. He walked up to the bar and ordered a Triple-Blue bourbon. One cube of ice.

Pauline joined him with her marketing crew. “We’re all set. Orion’s ETA is on schedule.” She added, “Any minute.”

Jon picked up his drink. “Just got the message. They all just arrived in the garage.”

Clarissa had strangely gone mute today, and all he’d gotten from Stella amounted to saying that Alana was holding back and to give them both a few more sessions, starting tomorrow.

“I’ve texted all the press here tonight the rules of the game and what questions will be entertained. Everyone is on board,” Pauline said, gazing across the room.

“We hope.” He sipped his drink, wondering where in the hell Alana was, given the garage entrance was only a few doors away.

Pops erupted and the buzz in the room echoed, growing louder. The guys from Orion had just entered the doorway, and Jon squinted. “Paulie. Are you certain Alana arrived as well?”

“Clarissa assured me they were all here, Alana included. I’ve got a rundown on her attire just in case anyone wants to know designers to mention. Dolce and Gabbana. See?”

“Designers?” He fleetingly scanned the text containing a full description of Alana’s outfit. Until he caught sight of her lingerie designer on the list. “Kiki’s from New York. Remove this and anything to do with undergarments.” Was this the same woman who hours ago complained about spending money? Andy’s influence. Stylists were infamous for swaying his clients. This time, he’d enjoy the fruits of his team’s labors.

“Jon, why didn’t you ever mention she was a mega-bombshell in person?” Pauline asked, tilting her head to the side.

“She’s attract—” His mind blanked as the air surged from his lungs. Alana sauntered into the room. The change in energy was palpable, so thick the haze given off by the electrical charge had him tasting metal. Their gazes tangled, and Alana flashed a seductive smile at him. He slammed his glass down on the bar, and muttered to his staff. “Show time. Let’s go.”

Walking with a slow, measured gait, he reminded himself to take it easy. So what if she’d thwarted his every directive? So what if all the men present stood on the balls of their feet, staring at Alana’s scantily-clad body? So what if she looked so hot, he couldn’t wait to rip the dress off her back? His pulse thundered. The blood vessels throbbed in his temples, and it felt as though his heart would burst into his throat.

Alana turned to him, her soft, full lips parted, and she traced her mouth with the tip of her tongue. That act unhinged him further. He broke their magnetized gaze, looking for a way out of the room. Someplace he could take her and communicate his displeasure with sharp clarity in slow, arduous ways until she clenched around his dick and tugged on his hair.

The reporter closest to them held out his hand to Alana, and Jon immediately understood he’d first have to deal with this God-awful press conference. “Let’s allow Ms. St. James and Orion to grab a drink and then set up. Questions will follow. Clarissa, get a white wine for Alana and take the other band mates to the bar. Alana—darling, you’re coming with me.” He curled his fingers tightly over her arm, very much wanting to mark her in some way, and he managed to hold it together long enough to move her inside the roped-off section where the band would appear.

“What in the hell happened to the rest of your hair?” he managed through clenched teeth as they stood at the table and he pulled out her chair. The wires from two of the microphones were tangled and he picked them up, separating the lines. Her now-familiar scent impaled him. Wild and flowery and haunting. She pushed a hip into his groin, stepping in front of him.
Was it a mistake?
It happened again, only this time her fingers followed, tracing his erection.

“I thought you’d like a change. After all, it was your idea that we fit in on the East side. New address, new style. I’m only trying to follow your lead.”

“What are you nattering about? The other members of Orion have moved into the house. Nothing has changed between us. I very much intend upon keeping an eye on you.”

“How’s that supposed to work out? Do you mean Clarissa?”

“Now is not the time. I said we’d talk, and we will. At length.”

“Watch your tone. It’s not what you say, but how.” She pinched his dick and he had to stop himself from jumping backward.

“Jesus,” he hissed, leaning forward to replace the microphones on the table, and his jaw
accidentally
grazed her bare shoulder.

“I thought I made it clear that I’m not going to put up with any asinine commands.”

“Is that how you thank those who help you? My attorneys have worked all day to free not only you but your band from Tyler. Apparently, your manager had enough knowledge to insert a very clever legal clause in your first contract, giving one member the ability to sign away the lives of the entire group. You all gave him the right to be a bloody conniving thief.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared up at him. Dammit. He wondered how soft was soft when it came to her lips. Would kissing her again have him willing to risk everything he’d worked for, or was it a mirage brought on by their raw, powerful sex? Only one way to find out. An hour here, and then he’d sure as shit answer that question.