NicenEasy (4 page)

“I’ve put some postcards on your bed. During the signing
tomorrow, we have to get around to the authors from our house and distribute
these. Have a word or two with each author and ask them if they want anything.
Then concentrate on the big names.” Of course, Allie’s collection was larger
than Nancy’s.

A particularly poignant lyric came out of the speakers.
“Listen to that, Nancy. Listen to the way he backs up that last word, ‘loss’.”

“Sure, yes. They’re very good.”

Very good? Fuck, Nancy had cloth ears. “I thought I was here
to concentrate on Carl?”

Nancy made a face. “You are. He’s your first priority. At
least—” She bit her lip and stopped. “I was just talking to the office, and
they’re very pleased with us so far. I managed to snag Stephanie Roberts in the
bar after you left. She sounded interested in putting her new series with us,
so I’ll be courting her while we’re here. Duane wants you to go for Donovan
Harvey.”

Allie stopped gathering her cards together to turn to her
boss. “What? He has a publisher.”

“As soon as word gets out that he’s here, fans will come. So
he’s written a book, has he?”

“He’s written a book, yes, and he’s signing it tomorrow.”

Nancy nodded. “Ah. Duane said he’d heard as much through the
grapevine. All he wants is for you to keep tabs on him. I guess you can do that
now?” She sent Allie a sly smile.

“I guess. But I’m here for Carl first.”

Nancy bit her lower lip. “Difficult, I’ll admit, to juggle
the two. Carl’s a rising star. We never expected him to do this well.”
Otherwise, Nancy would have taken him. She still might, unless Carl insisted on
keeping Allie. Since Allie had worked very hard on the first book’s edits, she
hoped he’d stay loyal, but she wasn’t betting the farm on it. “But Donovan
Harvey is too good to let go.” Nancy motioned to the speaker. “I don’t get
this. It’s okay, I guess, but I’m a hip-hop girl. Listen, if Donovan is only
signing book to book with his current publisher, find out what he’s getting and
offer him more.”

“Isn’t that poaching?”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “D’oh. Everybody does it.”

No they didn’t. If Allie wanted a job with Edsel someday,
they might take a dim view of her stealing their top author away. Especially
after sleeping with him. But she was the new girl here, and she felt she
couldn’t say more. Still feeling her way in this business, the dream job she’d
always wanted. It wasn’t turning out quite like she’d imagined, but what job
did? “Don’t you want to see the book?”

Nancy shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what he writes, as long
as it’s current.”

“He draws as well.”

Her boss’s blue eyes brightened. “You don’t say. Fuck,
that’s awesome. We can edit the rough stuff out and create a package that will
knock the readers’ eyes out.”

Allie hoped not. Her cynical side registered that
Casterbridge only wanted the name. They’d ghost the rest. She wasn’t sure the
man she met last night would be into that.

Outside the room, Donovan had stopped when he heard the
familiar strains of
Sex and Diamonds
, the single that had hit number one
shortly before the album had followed it. Something had stopped the door from
closing and he bent to pick it up before he heard them talking. He
straightened, leaving the object in place. A shoe, he registered dully, with a
spiked heel.

So she did know who he was. All that pretense, not knowing
him. He should have gone with his gut when he’d first seen her and she’d seemed
to recognize him. He’d dismissed it, wanted to believe she liked him, Donovan,
not the bassist with Murder City Ravens.

Only that wasn’t true, was it? Right now she was extolling
his virtues, trying to get her roommate to listen. Fucking groupie.

But what they said next made it clear they wanted the
celebrity, not the writer. That was the reason he’d used a pseudonym, refused to
let his agent use his real name at all in connection with the book. That was
why he’d waited for the sales figures to prove him a success before he’d
decided to come out.

So she’d fucked him to get closer, had she? That sweet, hot
connection was all for snagging him for her publisher? He hadn’t realized that
could hurt. After all, before his recent self-imposed sexual hiatus, he’d
fucked a lot of women who wanted him because he was with a successful rock
band. Rock musician equaled sexy in their book, and that was fine by him. Not
this time. Something had happened last night, something he was still
processing, and she’d got right through the exterior he usually kept firmly in
place. More fool him.

He spun around and walked away, changing his mind about taking
her for lunch. Pausing at the elevators, ignoring the curious stares of the
three people waiting with him, he forced his mind past his hurt and anger and
thought.

She’d known who she was from the get-go. Known Donovan
Harvey, despite her protests. That incredible night was a big fucking setup.
Why should he be the one to walk away?

Anger burning, he pivoted and headed back to her room.

“Someone called Cinderella in here?”

Allie spun around at the sound of his voice, her cheeks
flaming.
Gainfully Employed
had come on, one of the tracks that rocked
hard from the pre-Zazz and Riku version of Murder City Ravens. He gazed at her,
one brow raised, freezing her where she stood. He held a high-heeled sandal in
one hand.

Nancy leaped off the bed and paused before him, reaching for
her shoe. “Thanks. Was it outside?”

“It was wedged in the doorway.” He transferred his attention
to her and he watched as her pupils widened. Donovan had captured Nancy’s
interest. Long, flippy blonde hair, innocent blue eyes, gorgeous figure, but
inside lurked a creature of guile and slime.

Then Nancy stepped aside, sandal in hand. “Thanks. I’ll need
that tonight. Cinderella, I ain’t. Neither am I going in fancy dress. Are you
part of the convention?”

Donovan’s lips tightened. Presumably because he didn’t want
to admit anything yet.

“Did you put that music on?” he asked. Which one would admit
that she knew him?

Maybe Nancy had introduced Allie to Murder City Ravens. That
was what had made him turn around and come back. If Nancy had instigated
everything, that left last night intact. Allie wanted him for himself, after
all. His mood lightened slightly.

Nobody answered. “Yes, I’m at the convention to sign. I have
a book with Edsel.”

Nancy exchanged a glance with Allie. “You didn’t tell me which
publisher.”

“I didn’t know how much he wanted others to know before the
signing. He’s using a pseudonym.”

One good strike in her favor. He spotted the speaker hooked
up to the laptop on the desk. It was surrounded by clutter, piles of cards
tumbling over, rolls of posters, teetering stacks of books. What would this
room look like at the end of the convention?

Likely he wouldn’t see it. And he thought he was untidy.
“Whose laptop is that?” The one playing Murder City Ravens.

Allie bit her lip. “Mine.”

“You said you didn’t know me.”

Nancy crossed the room toward the door. Wise girl. “Excuse
me, guys, I’m due at a panel about now.” She grabbed a large tote whose straps
strained as she picked it up and made a hasty exit, letting the door slam
behind her.

Donovan leaned against the wall, lifting one leg to rest the
sole of his running shoe against it. “Will she tell?”

“She might.” Then Allie shook her head. “I don’t think so.
She doesn’t want people to know.”

“Because she wants me for your publisher.” He shrugged.
“Nice to be wanted, I guess. A shame it’s for the wrong reasons. So where’s
your mythical Carl?”

“It’s Carl Morano, and he’s not mythical.” She glanced at
the digital clock set between the beds. “I’m meeting him in half an hour.”

He raised a brow, surprised. “I’ve read his book. It’s very
good. So you’re here to look after him?”

She nodded miserably. “I edited him because it was his first
book, so they gave it to a junior. They never expected it to take off like it
did.”

His mouth twisted in a sneer when he worked out the next
step. “So you thought you’d get me too? Clever move, darling. A shame you’re
going to lose, because I’m not playing.” He kicked away from the wall and
sauntered toward her, not stopping until they stood chest to chest. “But I might
let you repeat the groupie action, this time with a bit of honesty. You knew
who I was all the time, didn’t you?” He couldn’t remember being this angry in
years. He was almost up to the red haze before the eyes stage. And this from
the man supposed to be Murder City Ravens’ laid-back member. She was so sweet,
so sexy—all an act.

The player moved to the next track,
Sailing Past the
Ocean
, a quiet, melancholy song. He smiled. “I’ll always think of this as
our song.” Ironic, since the song was about fucking lots of women and finding
nobody special. Did she know that? Oh yes, the pain in her eyes told him that
she did.
Good
, he thought savagely. She’d fooled him enough to make him
think he’d found someone new, someone special. Time for her to suffer for her deception.
“Am I the first lucky recipient of this treatment, or do you fuck all your
clients?” He gave the last word a particular emphasis, turning it into a sneer.

“You didn’t want me at all, did you? You just wanted the
bass player from Murder City Ravens. Or a new client for your books. Either
way.” He pushed forward, letting her feel his erection because, yes, he’d
gotten hard for her. Why should he hide it? It was what she wanted, after all.
“You know how we treat groupies? Do you want some of that?” It hurt, more than
it should. After one night she could do this to him? He felt betrayed and let
down by her deception.

Mutely she shook her head but he ignored that. He spread his
legs, shoved his bulging jeans at her.

“Down on your knees, darling. Go on, do it.” He kept his
voice lethally soft.

She stared at him, pain in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she
whispered. Then she looked down.

To his shock, she did as he told her. Should he push her
further? Hell, yeah. He wanted her, so why not? After all, it wouldn’t be the
first time he’d had a nameless woman giving him head. His mouth twisted in
self-disgust. Thinking about her dark head bobbing up and down as she sucked
him made his cock even harder, something he’d thought impossible a moment ago.

“Open my fly.”

He wasn’t commando today. A shame, it would have made the
moment more dramatic.

Fumbling a little, she unfastened his fly, button by button,
then, without him telling her to, pushed his briefs out of the way and got out
his cock. It reared up against the heat of her hand, hot and needy. Need pulsed
through every pore of his body.

“You know what to do.”

She bent and took his cock in her mouth.

Donovan shuddered, leaned against the desk behind him and
widened his stance to keep his balance. She swept her tongue around the head,
licking up the drops of his essence that had escaped from the opening at the
top. Soft, so alluring, barely there, he loved the way she did it. Tender,
almost.

Then she sucked and he gave a strangled cry. “Fuck!”

She didn’t stop, increasing her suction and working him like
a pro. Taking his cock in one hand, she squeezed in time with her sucks,
massaging his balls with her other hand.

He had to see this. He stroked her hair aside, tucking it
behind her ears. “Look at me.” Low, urgent and rough. Not surprising, really.

She lifted her gaze to him. Christ, she looked so good with
his cock in her mouth, her hands on his balls. “You’re doing good. Carry on.
After I’ve done with you, you can do Zazz.” He suppressed his smile. Zazz hated
using groupies even more than the rest of the band. Everyone had their reasons,
except for Riku, who still used them when the mood took him.

Donovan was enjoying the fantasy, his anger still strong but
morphing into passion. “Don’t stop.”

She carried on, but every time her eyelids drooped, he
tugged on her hair, not hard, but enough to get her attention so she looked at
him again. He never took his gaze away from hers. He was still angry and he
wanted her to suffer some more for lying to him. “What if someone comes in? I
don’t know if your roomie closed the door properly. Maybe your client will do
it. Maybe I’ll make you do him too. It depends. If I think you need practice, I
have to make sure you get it, don’t I? You won’t make a groupie if you can’t
give head. Usually to all the members of the band, one after the other, then
the crew too, if they want you. Do as you’re told. Suck.”

She did it. Could he see a flare of emotion in her eyes? He
couldn’t tell, but right now he didn’t care. If she wanted to fuck him for any
other reason than just wanting him, he’d show her what it meant.

“I want you to swallow. No spitting. And don’t spill a drop,
or you’ll miss your appointment with your next client. I’ll make you do it
again until you get it right.” He allowed himself a slow smile until she drew
again, her cheeks hollowing, and then it was Donovan who broke contact.

His head went back as she turned his nerves to needle-sharp
points of pleasure. She worked him, wrung him dry.

With a shout, he spurted into her. He watched her throat as
she swallowed. No gagging, no hesitation. He shot straight down.

Donovan took a few deep breaths, gripping the edge of the
table so hard he thought he’d mark it. Barely in control, he gave another
order. “Lick me clean. Then put it away neatly.”

He watched that sweet pink tongue wash his cock, then she
did as he’d told her. Obedient, ready for the next guy. That thought didn’t sit
well with him. He wanted to keep that talent to himself.

He managed an insouciant shrug. “Not bad. Anyone else you want
to do this to? Maybe I know them and I could get you the gig. How about it?” He
pushed away from the desk, forcing her back on her haunches. She stared at him
dumbly. He tilted his head on one side. “No? I thought you wanted this.”