Microsoft Word - Seven Nights of Sin (34 page)

The hell of it was—today was probably the first day in weeks that he hadn’t had her on his mind 24/7. He’d been so focused on getting Austin to sign with him today that nothing else had entered his brain—nothing. Until her name had come up.

And there for a few minutes, he’d been back in Vegas, back…inside her.

But it was high time he resumed focusing on business around the clock. Given that he was mired in the work of getting Inspiration off the ground, God knew he should have enough to occupy his mind. As luck had it, a handful of his previous Blue Night clients were up for contract renewal in the next few months, so he’d made some phone calls and felt confident all of them were going to come over to Inspiration and let him keep taking their careers in the right direction. So things were going well. But there was the office move to worry about, and staff to hire—and he planned to be very hands-on in developing Austin and maybe other new acts, too.

And, of course, there was the lawsuit to contend with. Claire had filed two of them, one against Blue Night and a separate one against him. He was trying to keep it off his mind as much as possible, letting his lawyer handle most of it, and having the new company was a great distraction.

So he simply didn’t have the time to waste on thinking about Brenna. Even if she had unknowingly helped him name his company.

He’d told her once that she inspired him, and he’d meant it. She’d made him feel things he never had before; she’d taken him to emotional highs—and lows—that had forced him to examine who he was and what he wanted out of life. He wasn’t sure he had everything he wanted now, but he had a promising label to build and, whether he liked it or not, she had inspired him—sexually, emotionally, and even professionally, given the way he’d lost his job to her.

Part of him hated her. He’d never felt so deceived, so much like a gullible fool.

Yet part of him kept remembering all those moments together. The really dirty ones. And the really sweet ones. And every one in between.

Shit, even now, it was still hard to believe she’d lied to him—he’d been utterly blindsided, simply hadn’t seen it coming.

But as far as he was concerned, it was a hard lesson learned. Trust was a valuable commodity, and he wouldn’t give it away so easily in the future—even to someone who seemed as totally guileless as Brenna had. Damn, he’d have thought he’d learned something about that from Claire Starr. But Brenna had been a whole different animal. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

He’d given some thought to her parting words, her promise that everything between them had been real. He didn’t know what to believe—so he’d simply chosen not to believe…anything.

He had a company to build, and he’d just signed Austin Cole, so that was a great start.  From now on, it was back to music and sex. He didn’t need anything more—and, amending his earlier thought, he decided he didn’t want anything more.

Three

It was the third time in a week that Jenkins had summoned Brenna to his office—and she

knew she was in trouble, just from the sound of his voice over the phone. What had  happened now ? Had Malcolm complained to him directly? Had he heard the tapes from  Blush’s first recording session? It hadn’t gone as well as hoped, because the producer  kept asking her for input as he’d done with Damon in the past, and she simply didn’t have enough experience to help.

She pushed through the closed door without fanfare, missing the days when her boss thought she did good work. “What now?” she asked.

Jenkins stood up, steam practically coming out his ears. Oh boy, whatever this was, it was bad. Really bad.

“I just heard what I hope is a nasty rumor.”

God, she hoped it was, too. “What?”

“Word on the street is that Inspiration just signed a hot new kid named Austin Cole. A kid  you and Damon scouted in Vegas. And further word on the street is that you sent the kid  to him, saying he’d do a better job for him than we could.”

Her options here were simple. Lie. Or tell the truth.

And she’d had enough lying.

“It’s not a rumor. I did it.”

Jenkins slammed a book down on his desk, making papers fly. “What the hell were you thinking?”

She raised her voice, just as angry as he was. “That Damon will do a better job for him than I can! Because I’ve been thrust into a job I’m ill suited for with little to no experience!  And that Austin Cole has one of the best sounds I’ve ever heard and, frankly, I thought he deserved better than I can give him. I didn’t want to ruin his career, so I sent him to  Damon.”

Jenkins stood before her, red faced, shaking his head. “Damn it, Brenna…”

She hated this. It just kept getting worse and worse. It was supposed to be a dream job, but it sucked. She’d never been more miserable in her work.

Just then, Collette stuck her head through the open doorway. “Um, Brenna, when you get a chance, the copier’s jammed again.”

door. “Screw the copier,” she snapped, making Collette flinch, then disappear back through the

After which she turned back to Jenkins. “And screw you, too. I can’t do this anymore. I’m a smart, likable, professional woman—and I deserve better. I quit.”

RETURN TO SIN

“Had I not sinned, what would there be for you to pardon? My fate has given you the

opportunity for mercy.”

—Ovid

One

Oh God, she’d quit! Really quit!

Three days had passed, but each time she thought about it, the news felt brand-new—and just as horrible. She had a little money saved—she could pay the rent this month and next, and her car payment—but she needed another job fast.

Now, she sat in a park not far from the Blue Night offices—Kelly was picking up sandwiches and meeting her there for lunch. While she waited, she cautiously reopened her old book, You Don’t Need a Man to Be Happy.

Because it was high time she convinced herself of that, once and for all. Damon, of course, had put a big dent in that belief, but at the same time, after Damon, she couldn’t imagine finding another man who could really make her happy. He’d taken her places she’d never gone before and would likely never go again without him—and any normal guy just wouldn’t compare.

Scanning the area around the park bench, she found she was alone, so figured it was safe to start her affirmations. “I don’t need a man, I don’t need a man, I don’t need a man.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, not that again.”

She looked up to find Kelly—today in a striking suit of dark fuchsia that only she could pull off. She handed Brenna a large Styrofoam container, which she presumed held her lunch.

“Well, I’ll tell you what youdo need,” Kelly said, taking a seat next to her, her own white

container perched in her lap. “You need a vacation.”

Brenna simply sighed. “I just took one. Remember? Sin City? Lots of sex? Broken heart?

Ring any bells?”

Kelly shrugged. “That was work. Kind of.”

“Speaking of which, that was also paid for by Blue Night. And girls without jobs have no

business taking vacations.”

“Maybe not, but you’re in a funk, and I intend to get you out of it. And if you ask me, you

need a little hair of the dog that bit you.”

Brenna just blinked. “What?”

“Let’s go to Vegas. Just for the weekend. I’ll drive, and I’ll even spring for the room.”

crazy?” “Vegas? You want me to go to Vegas ? After what just happened to me there? Are you

“That’s the hair of the dog part, dummy. You need to go back to Vegas, have a good time,  and quit associating it with him. Otherwise, the place will be ruined for you forever, and  Vegas is far too fun and far too nearby to mark off your list of weekend getaway  destinations.”

Brenna shook her head. “No.”

“I insist.”

“The last time you insisted upon something, I ended up with a tattered heart.”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “I told you to fuck him, not fall for him. Big difference, girlfriend.” She opened her sandwich box and popped the top on the soda can she’d tucked inside with the food. “Now I’m not taking no for an answer. We’re going to Vegas for a girls’ weekend.  I’m picking you up at five thirty on Friday.”

Two

“How’s the office?” Brenna asked Kelly as they drove across the Mojave Desert.

Kelly let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “In shambles. Trust me, this getaway wasn’t just for you. I need it, too—bad.”

They discussed the various disasters occurring at Blue Night for a while longer, but both concluded it was a downer, so decided to turn on the radio. From which blared Malcolm  Barstow’s latest hit, which made them both grimace, so Brenna turned it back off. And peered out over the flat brown landscape. “Did I tell you Damon and I fucked in the desert?”

Kelly looked over at her with a sly smile. “No, you didn’t. And honey, I have to tell you, that man was so good for you. Even if you only had him a week.”

Brenna cast a wry grin. “Why—because I can say ‘fuck’ now without flinching?”

Kelly wore a satisfied expression as she looked back out the windshield. “Well, that, too—but mainly…you’re just a more confident person now. You’re more outgoing, you don’t let people push you around, and you don’t dress like a schoolmarm.”

Brenna hadn’t really thought about it—she’d hardly had time, given everything else being juggled in her brain—but maybe Kelly was right. “I guess maybe I…feel better. I definitely feel like my divorce is long behind me now—like it happened in another lifetime. And…I was brave enough to quit that so-called dream job, wasn’t I?”

“I think he just…showed you parts of yourself you’d never seen before.”

“You can say that again,” she replied, clearly thinking of sex, and they both laughed.

She still thought this girls’ weekend in Vegas was a generally bad idea, but for Kelly’s sake, she decided to try and have fun, or at least to pretend she was.

Kelly tended to drive like a maniac on the open road, so they turned onto the Las Vegas  Strip just after ten o’clock, which flooded Brenna with recent memories. Her heart beat harder just seeing the hotels she and Damon had toured together, the streets they’d walked—and the Eiffel Tower, of course.

But she nearly passed out when Kelly veered onto the drive leading to the Venetian.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“Um, sleeping. Maybe some eating. And possibly partying, as I hear they have some great

clubs here.”

Brenna passed her friend a dubious look. “This is where Damon and I stayed.”

Kelly blinked. “Oh. I guess you mentioned that at some point—I must have forgotten. But hey”—she shrugged, smiled softly—“hair of the dog, remember? And it’s a gorgeous hotel.  And I got a great deal on the room, so we’re not going anywhere else.”

Brenna didn’t like it, but she supposed it wouldn’t kill her to be here. Even if everywhere she glanced she found another memory. Yet she tried to push that aside as they checked in and headed up a familiar elevator where Damon had once rubbed his hard cock against her ass. She tried to push it aside as they rolled their suitcases into a room very much like the one Brenna had stayed in—even if she’d ended up not spending a great deal of time in it.

“So,” Kelly said, “ready to hit the town?”

Brenna simply blinked. “It’s late. Aren’t you tired?”

“No way—the night is young. And Vegas never sleeps. I’m ready to go dancing, or maybe

do a little gambling. Have I ever told you how lucky I am at craps?”

“Uh, no. But even if you aren’t tired, maybe I am.”

Kelly lowered her chin and stabbed her fists into her hips. “O-ho-ho no you don’t. You are so going out with me. I’m betting you were out ’til the wee hours every single night the last time you hit Sin City, so no way are you going to just put on your jammies and go beddie-bye.” Kelly grabbed her wrist, saying, “Come on.”

And before she knew what hit her, they were back in the elevator.

Given the prime-time hour, it was crowded, people coming and going on various floors, and Brenna wasn’t paying much attention until Kelly latched on to her arm again and dragged her out into a quiet hallway. “Where are we?” she asked.

“One of the lower floors. I think there’s a dance club around the corner.”

“I don’t hear any music,” Brenna said but followed Kelly anyway, thinking the area looked  vaguely familiar—and finally recognizing it when they exited through a pair of doors that  led out to the lush pool area. “Oh, this leads to the pool. We’re in the wrong place,” she  informed her friend.

But Kelly pressed onward anyway. “Well, while we’re here, I may as well check it out, scope out my chair for tomorrow—since I intend to spend at least half the day working on my tan.”

Brenna followed behind silently, not particularly wanting to revisit the pool, either, but forcing herself to be tolerant. Hair of the dog, hair of the dog. I don’t need a man, I don’t need a man.

The area was bathed in darkness, but the surrounding neon lights of the city illuminated the place enough for her to make out the columns and arches, the potted trees, and the alluring beds at various points along the pool’s edge.