Hell Yeah!: Man of My Heart (Kindle Worlds Novella) (The Omega Team Book 5) (5 page)

“Sometimes. If you have a good manager and your label believes in you. But that means I have a lot of work to do in a very short period of time.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he told her. “I’ll keep myself busy.”

“The satellite is all hooked up. If you’re so inclined, you can watch in your bedroom or out here in the great room.”

Good lord. She sounded like she was giving a tour to a paying guest.

“I told you, no sweat. Go on. You need to do your thing.”

“Okay, then. I’m going into my room. I’ll see you later.”

Jasmine wasn’t always tense about having someone around while she wrote, but Caleb Branam put her on edge. When he’d asked her earlier about men in her life, she’d wanted to tell him that with one look, he’d ruined her for anyone else.

And how on earth had that happened? She didn’t fall over her feet for men—she rarely dated anymore, as busy as she was. It figured the first man in a long time to push her buttons would be a surly loner. According to what Aron had told her, their conversation over coffee was the longest he’d had in, well, maybe forever.

She tried to figure out how to handle this unexpected attraction to him. Oh, wait. It was more than an attraction. She couldn’t afford that, especially with a man who was such a loner. Good thing she’d be shut up in her room for the rest of the day.

She left him to his devices, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed for her bedroom. She had all her stuff set up in there anyway—her Martin acoustic guitar, her baby that had been with her forever waiting on the huge bed, her notepads, her iPad with the piano app. And the large windows let in the sunlight, which always inspired her. She was good to go.

*****

Caleb stood in the middle of the great room, hands in his pockets, just taking in his surroundings. The sun blazing in through the abundance of windows gave a warm, honey look to the polished hardwood floor. The furniture was upholstered in cream and maroon, the dining table an unusual slab of granite on a pedestal. One wall had built-in bookshelves and an office area with her computer and printer. The walls were still bare, but he chalked that up to the newness of the place. Between the tension of knowing some asshole was out there waiting to disrupt her life and starting the preparations for the album and the tour, she probably didn’t have a lot of free time for shopping.

He wondered at her choice of locations, buying a house on six acres out in the middle of the Hill Country. She was pretty isolated out here. As someone who liked his solitude, however, he could relate to it. He knew what demons he was running away from. Did Jasmine have her own, or did she just want her privacy? He suspected the latter was pretty hard to come by in her situation.

Carson Wagner had been very specific about vetting anyone who got close to her. He had the list of acceptable people, a very small list. Anyone else was his decision. He knew he’d better be damn careful about it.

Taking a bottle of water from the fridge, he headed outside to walk the property. He always felt better when he knew every square inch of territory for which he was responsible. This property was still pretty wild and untamed. He wondered why someone with all her money hadn’t yet gotten around to having at least part of it mowed. All that tall grass and scatterings of trees made great cover for someone to sneak up on the house.

The land was on three levels, and hiking it put a strain on his leg, but he pushed on. He’d accepted this job, albeit under pressure, so he’d better man up and stop treating himself like a cripple. If he fucked up this job, he might just as well shoot himself and save anyone else the trouble.

Wild animals wandered everywhere—deer, raccoons, jackrabbits, even a porcupine crossed his field of vision. It all reminded him of where his cabin was a few miles away.

By the time he’d checked every bit of the property, he was sweating from the sun, his leg ached like a son of a bitch, and he’d consumed the bottle of water and needed more. He fetched one from the fridge and settled himself on the screened porch in the padded lounge they’d been carrying in when he arrived. Hydrated again, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a moment.

The images he still lived with, that plagued him, danced in his head. The hostage had been held in an industrial warehouse. He and his men had figured out how to get in without being detected, and they’d discovered the hostage in an office up an open flight of stairs. There was nothing for it but to wait until the few people inside were gathered at the other end of the warehouse, breach the door, and Caleb would go up after the hostage.

Then everything went to hell. Even after all this time, he wasn’t sure exactly how and why. Before it was over, they’d secured the hostage, but two of his men were dead and he’d suffered a badly broken leg and burns from a chemical fire the guards set. During all the months in the hospital, he’d refused to see anyone, including the Omega partners, Athena Madero and his longtime friend, Grey Holden.

“I’m not cutting you loose,” Grey said the last time he’d seen him, just before Caleb was discharged from the hospital. “Your job and your salary will be waiting for you when you come back because I’m going to make sure that happens.”

Now, more than a year later, he still hadn’t reconnected with Grey or anyone else from that time in his life. He opened his eyes and looked around. It all seemed so incongruous, acting as a bodyguard for a female performer. Watching for some nutcase obsessed with her. So much puff pastry compared to what he’d done before.

He knew Aron was trying to get him out of his self-imposed isolation. He’d given in because he’d gotten tired of arguing with him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d limit his contact to those people necessary and focus on Jasmine Grey. If the stalker showed up, he’d put him in a headlock and hand him over to the cops. Then he’d be done. Why didn’t he think it would be that easy?

Because for the first time in more than a year you want a woman, and in a bad way.

His biggest problem was going to be his self-control. His dick didn’t seem to know from rules and regulations. Whenever he looked at Jasmine, it wanted up and out. And in. Preferably in, into her tempting body with her slick flesh squeezing around him—

Shit!

He sat upright and rubbed his face. Dreams like that would get him in big trouble. He pushed himself out of the lounger and went back inside. In the kitchen, he grabbed another bottle of water, and while he stood there uncapping it, he could hear the faint strains of a guitar coming from the master suite. An uneven sound, a few chords, then stop, then a few more, then stop, then repeating the first ones.

He’d never thought about the process of writing a song. Why would he, anyway? But, drawn by some inexplicable force, he strained his ears to listen to the sounds coming from Jasmine’s room. Even listening to the same few chords over and over didn’t bore him. There was something about her music that, if he were a man who thought in flowery words, he’d call magical.

He sat down in the big armchair, put his feet up on the ottoman, and let his brain tune into what she was doing. If she left the door open, he’d hear a lot better, but he didn’t want to intrude on her privacy. In a moment, he heard the same musical phrase only, this time, something else had been added. He sat there for a long time, listening to the starts and stops, the bits and pieces, and decided to download some of Jasmine Grey’s music to his phone. He should have done it before so he’d know what kind of artist she was. Too bad he’d retired from society and shut all of that out.

But, the more he thought about it, the more he decided magical really was the word to describe her sound. She had a gift. She was so far from the snotty piece of glitz he’d expected he mentally smacked himself for preconceived notions. He realized with great reluctance he would need his famous self-control in spades to spend time as Jasmine Grey’s bodyguard. He didn’t want her to need a protector from him.

The first week went by without incident. Jasmine thought it a good omen. Believing Cobra wouldn’t be able to find her here made her relax. Her writing was coming along better than she could ever have expected. Carson would flip when he heard the new tunes.

Things weren’t so quiet on another front, though. That electricity still snapped and popped between them, but they both did their best not to acknowledge it. Caleb gave a good imitation of a stone sphinx although, on occasion, when he appeared not to be thinking about it, he even smiled at her. Not much of a smile, but more like a painful contortion of his facial muscles. And she always smiled back. She’d never been in a situation like this before, and she was working hard to handle it.

They had fallen into a daily routine. Both were early risers, neither of them fans of breakfast. He didn’t believe in talking until his third cup of coffee any more than she did, so the morning pattern was established. They fixed their coffee and carried it out to the patio where they sat in a not uncomfortable silence drinking that first infusion of the hot liquid. By the third cup, Caleb carried both drinks, and Jasmine brought a plate with two sticky buns on it. They had actually shared a chuckle over the fact they were both addicted to the very sweet pastry.

After coffee, she would head back to her room to work on her music and Caleb did, well, whatever he did. Through the windows in her bedroom, she’d see him walking the entire perimeter of the property, sometimes twice. She had a feeling he was trying to strengthen his leg as well as checking the security. Although the idea Cobra would try to see her here was ridiculous. No one but those with a need to know had her address, she had no landline, and she stayed away from social media. Still, the thought of him made her uneasy. She’d stay hidden away for as long as she could. Maybe he’d moved on to some other poor soul.

Lunch and dinner were also accomplished without much conversation, and somehow they fell into a pattern where she cooked and he cleaned up. It amazed Jasmine how they could spend an entire day with little conversation at all.

Sometimes, when she took a break and came out of her room for a cold drink, she’d catch sight of Caleb on the patio exercising his leg. Other times, she had no idea where he was. Under other circumstances, she’d want to satisfy her curiosity, but, at the moment, her head was too full of the songs she needed to finish.

In the evening, just so she didn’t spend all her time locked in her room, she often watched television in the great room. Sometimes Caleb would watch a little with her, although he never suggested a program or asked her what else was on. Most of the time, though, he retreated to his own room and every so often she’d catch the faint sound of the television in there. She was torn between wanting him to sit out there with her and knowing she’d be better off in her bedroom. Alone.

But one thing never changed—the voltage sparking between them, the sexual undercurrent she did her best to ignore. If she wasn’t so focused on her music at the moment, she knew she’d be tempted to see where that sizzle took them. Because, oh yeah, it was still there. She felt it whenever they accidentally brushed against each other. There were moments when she saw heat burning in his eyes and a hunger she wanted to feed. And sometimes, at night, lying in her bed, she wondered what he’d look like naked. What would he taste like, and how would it feel when he was buried deep inside her body. Her nipples would harden and her sex would tingle and pulse. Going to sleep was not always easy. But anything between them remained off limits, and she did her best to ignore it.

By the end of the second week, she’d finished all the new songs for the album and polished the ones she’d had waiting. These songs excited her even more than her earlier material. She’d been able to lose herself in them and, for the most part, not think about the man who she kept trying not to picture naked. She put the emotion into the music, and it worked in spectacular fashion. At dinnertime, she came out of her room, ecstatic, waving a fistful of pages.

“I just called Carson,” she told Caleb, who sat in the armchair watching television. “I told him the songs are finished and ready for the studio. I’m going to fax them to him right now.”

Caleb lifted an eyebrow. “Can the musicians just read what you wrote on those sheets of paper and know what to play?”

Jasmine laughed. “That would be nice. But, no. Carson has someone who turns these into sheet music for them.”

“And he can do it all by tomorrow?” Skepticism edged his voice.

“He can. We won’t start until about the middle of the afternoon, so we should be good to go by then. And I have everything on a little recorder they can listen to.”

“I guess there’s more to writing a song than I know.” He paused. “Question.” Caleb gave her a quizzical look. “Aren’t you missing a musician, though?”

“Carson’s been auditioning them and says he’s found a perfect match.”

“Don’t you get to approve whoever it is?”

Jasmine shrugged. “He’s got a better ear than I do. He’s the one who put the band together in the first place.”

“It’s a wonder,” Caleb drawled, “a man as sharp as he is let a nut like Cobra pass muster.”

“Sometimes they don’t show their colors right away.” She sighed. “And that’s unfortunate. I do wonder, however, about all the people who gave him references.”

“Something I’m thinking of looking into.” He pushed himself out of the chair. “Just so you know, I called Grey Holden and asked him to run deep background checks on the other three guys.”

Jasmine felt a flash of anger, but she pushed it away as fast as it came. His job was to protect her, and part of that was knowing everything he could find out about the people in her group.

“We’ll be meeting him tomorrow,” she told Caleb. “Carson’s rented a studio for us to rehearse in. We’ve got two weeks to get ready.”

He frowned. “Is that enough time?”

“Oh, yes. These guys are all seasoned musicians. He said to tell you he’ll have the final schedule tomorrow, also, and he’ll go over it with you.”

“Good.” He dipped his head once. “I want as much time to plan as I can get.”

Jasmine wrinkled her forehead. “Plan for what? I thought you were just supposed to be guarding me.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wished them back. “Sorry. That was pretty dumb of me.”

“I’ll want to go over the details with you, also.” Caleb went on as if she hadn’t spoken, for which she was thankful.

“Whatever you need.” She kept alternating between resentment her life was being affected this way and gratitude she’d have someone covering her ass. And a generous sprinkling of resentment at Cobra for creating this situation.

“Good.”

“So, how about a celebration? Want to go into town for dinner?” She was always wound up tighter than a drum when she finished writing, excited about what she’d accomplished and itchy to get into the studio with them. Filled with excess energy, she needed to do something. She was on a high, and she wanted to take him with her.

“Town?”

She could see him rolling the question around in his brain.

“It’s just dinner, Caleb. What’s the big deal? Aren’t you ever happy about anything?”

What a stupid thing to say. From what Aron told her, he didn’t have a lot to be happy about right now. And he looked as if she’d slapped him.

“I’m sorry, Caleb. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” She twisted her hands together, a nervous habit she wished she could get rid of.

“It’s okay. Dinner’s fine.” He studied her. “Where do you want to go?”

“There’s a new place out on the interstate Libby says has great hamburgers. I think that’s what I’m in the mood for, if it works for you.”

“I like hamburgers. You want to get ready?”

“I just need my purse.” She looked down at herself, in her jeans and T-shirt and sandals. “Don’t I look presentable?”

“To me, you do. Every other woman I’ve ever met couldn’t leave the house without an hour’s notice.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Well, that’s not me, so you’ll just have to take me the way I am. Let’s go.” She reached for her keys on the counter.

Caleb’s hand closed over her wrist. “I’ll drive.”

Okay, then!

He drove what she would have expected, a big double-cab Ford F-150, in gunmetal grey. Very plain on the outside but tricked out on the inside.

“You spend a lot of time in your truck?”

He glanced sideways at her. “Something wrong with it?”

Was everything she said to this man wrong?

“No. Not a thing. Just making conversation.”

He didn’t answer, so she kept her mouth shut. But she was over-conscious of his nearness in the cab, of the masculine scent of his soap invading her senses. Of the heat emanating from his body and that scruff she wanted to just rub her fingers over. Conversation faded to nonexistent so, by the time they reached The Feedbag, she was on edge and not sure she felt like celebrating anymore. But damn, she wasn’t going to let him spoil this.

By the time they were seated in a booth, with thick juicy hamburgers and crisp french fries in front of them, her hunger dissipated any bad mood still clinging to her. She tilted her bottle of beer and touched it to Caleb’s.

“Here’s hoping these songs are as good as I think they are.”

“I think they might be better.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Were you listening to me? How…I mean, I had the door closed.” She wasn’t sure she liked anyone hearing her music in its raw stages.

“I have unusual hearing. I had to strain a little, but it was nice listening to you.”

“Careful, Caleb.” She giggled. “I think you just gave me a compliment.”

He almost got that closed-up look on his face again.
Almost.

“I can say nice things when the moment arises.”

“Yes, you can.” In fact, his compliment made her feel positively giddy. “And thank you very much.” Then something he said clicked in her brain. “Have you been listening to my other music?”

He dropped his gaze to his plate. “I might have downloaded a track or two,” he mumbled.

“Why, Caleb Branam. Thank you so much. I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.” He bit into his hamburger, killing any further exchange of words.

Jasmine swallowed her smile and dug into her hamburger. By the time they finished eating and he’d had one beer to her two, she was a little mellow but still excited. She could feel it in her blood. These songs were good. Maybe the best she’d ever done. She couldn’t wait until they hit the studio tomorrow and she heard the guys play the tunes.

On the way home, she leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes, and hummed the tune she’d just finished that afternoon. She couldn’t wait to get into rehearsals tomorrow. She was so busy thinking about it all she didn’t realize they’d pulled into her driveway until the truck stopped.

“Oh!” She opened her eyes. “We’re here.”

“Yep. Have nice snooze?”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she denied. “I was just imagining my music.”

“Okay. Let’s imagine it inside.”

In the house, she dropped her keys on the counter, put her purse next to them, and whirled around with her arms in the air. She was just so jazzed, just as she always was when she completed new songs. She wished she could soar through the air. She paid little attention to her actions until she lost her balance and stumbled into Caleb. He wrapped his arms around her to catch her, and every pulse point in her body began to thunder like a herd of elephants.

Jasmine wrapped her arms around his neck to balance herself and found herself staring into dark eyes that seemed to see right inside her. He cupped his palm to her head to hold it steady and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips were cool and firm, yet, at the contact, heat flooded her body. The tip of his tongue traced the closed seam of her mouth, and when he added pressure, she opened for him without thinking.

And practically detonated right there. His tongue scorched the inside of her mouth, coaxing her own tongue to dance with his. Everything faded away, leaving only the two of them and a kiss that trumped any she had ever had in her life. It went on and on, stealing her breath and making her nipples harden and her pussy tingle. She held on for dear life as the world spun around her.

Then, with the same suddenness, he broke the contact and lowered her to her feet. She stared at him through glazed eyes, trying to make her brain function again.

“What—”

“What is the right word.” He took two steps back, putting distance between them. “I’m sorry. That was a mistake”

Jasmine licked her lips, the taste of him still lingering there as she struggled to get her breathing under control. “It didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

Shut up, Jasmine. You know it was a mistake. Wrong guy, wrong time.

“Trust me, it is.” He had rearranged his features into his perfected expressionless mask again.

“But—”

“Listen,” he interrupted. “There is no but. I haven’t kissed anyone in more than a year, and this is not the place to start.” He took another step backward. “This can’t happen. We have a business arrangement requiring my entire focus. And the last thing I need in my life is some kind of entanglement here.”