Played (Elite PR) (11 page)

“Where’d all this stuff come from?” he asked, tuning his guitar.

“Just a few things from my storage locker,” she said with pride as she looked over the room. “I thought you might feel more at home if this actually felt a little bit more like a home.”

“I do,” he said, pulling out a kitchen stool to sit on.

And then he started to play.

She made him go through his three songs and he wasn’t sure if she should be honored or insulted. Did she enjoy it, or was she critiquing him, waiting for it to get better?

Her expression was guarded, and he didn’t like it one bit. That first night, she’d held nothing back from him. That all changed once they’d started working together. From the moment he’d signed that contract, he sensed ulterior motives and other things at play. There was no more sharing from her. She only wanted to know about him. It was all about the campaign. Sure, the chemistry was still there. That was just sex, nothing more. And now that was off the table, too, so to speak.

That was a damn shame, because going at it high school style with Mel was hands down the best time he’d ever had with anyone. But damn, if she knew how hard it was to leave it at that. As soon as the dust settled from their romp on the table, all he could think about was rushing to the drugstore for condoms. But he didn’t want to scare her off.

They’d agreed on one time, and he didn’t want to give the impression he was a horny old man. If he’d really been thinking with his head, instead of other more demanding body parts, he would’ve worded his proposition a little differently.

It was for the best. It was in the best interest of both of their careers to keep their distance. He had his rules for a reason. He’d suffered one breakdown. He didn’t think he’d survive another.

T
he business of making music was starting to fuck with his life the second time around, and it was pissing him right the hell off.

He finished the set and tried to determine what was going on inside that pretty head of hers. She didn’t make him wait. Her face broke into the smile he was becoming addicted to, the one he was willing to do most anything to coax into an appearance.

“That was so, so great, Aaron.” She clapped her hands together, clearly pleased with him. Or was it the work she’d done on him? “Aching and angry, sad and desperate, and hotter than sin in all the right places.”

He wanted to tell her that was her doing, but he thought better of it. “So now what?”

“Now,” her grin widened, if that was possible. “We turn on the Braves game and relax. We deserve it.”

“You like baseball?”

“No.” She grabbed his guitar and placed it on the stand. “I fucking love it.”

Shit, she had to go ahead and say that.

Chapter Thirteen

M
el flipped through almost a week’s worth of mail, waiting for Aaron to wake up. That man kept some crazy hours. In her boredom, she took a chance to see if her magazines were still being delivered to her mailbox. She was pleasantly surprised they were, along with all of her personal mail. Dumb-ass Cole hadn’t sent notice to the post office yet, so she was still getting past due notices and brand new bills to her former address. Oh, and the official invitation for the Sweetwater’s Last Hurrah. Not that she’d forgotten about her hometown party. Or Teddy’s surprise appearance. But the letter sure did put a timestamp on the festivities. They were now T-minus twenty-one days and counting.

She no longer knew how she felt about all of that. Not after spending the better part of the weekend with Aaron. Not to mention a serenade that could’ve charmed the panties of a nun. Yes, she had underwear on the brain, but it wasn’t her fault the man channeled all her thoughts to below the waist. She was obsessed with watching him play and sing…and cook, surf channels on TV, or anything, really. Yesterday, she asked for song after song until she was burning with so much need her skirt was ready to start on fire. Then she watched baseball with him—as it went into extra innings—before she was finally able to high-tail it to bed.

Frustrated again.

And speaking of frustrating, she had to call Viv and deliver some bad news. Miranda had really trusted Mel with Aaron’s project, and it was going to take every free minute she had to make it a success. So there was no way she could take time off to see her friend that upcoming weekend.

“Vivi,” Mel said when her friend picked up the phone. “I have some bad news.”

“Uh-oh. What is it?”

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t make it this coming weekend.”

“What happened?” Viv asked, in a sad tone that broke her heart.

“Long story,” Mel told her. “But I have a huge new client, and Miranda’s on my ass like you wouldn’t believe. All this talk about going with my instinct, and commitment to my career, and blah, blah, blah.”

“Who is the client?” she asked, sounding suspicious.

“A country artist, actually,” Mel said with a quiver, thinking about last night.

“Mmm-hmm,” Viv said. “And what does this country artist look like?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” A nervous laugh fell from Mel’s lips. “Like a cowboy, I guess.”

Busted.

“Well, you be careful with that, hon,” she said. “I’ve heard cowboys are even more dangerous than race car drivers.”

Mel pouted a little when she hung up. She desperately needed that time away with Viv. The two of them had endured so much with the Ice Queen—and just life in general. Nobody could possibly understand what it was like to navigate through the Miranda Wells landmines of double talk, snide comments, and criticism disguised to look like she was doing you a favor.

No, she needed Viv and needed her bad. Her friend was brilliant, driven, and resourceful—if anyone could help her, it was Vivi.

Plus, Viv had gone through her own crisis with a client—one who eventually became her fiancée. Not that Mel expected the same turnout. Not. At. All. But she might have some tips and tricks to getting out of this situation unscathed. Then again, if Viv knew how strapped Mel was for cash, she’d never let it go. And Mel wasn’t taking handouts.

Her situation, with Aaron? Not a handout. It was a totally different work-for-room-and-board type of thing. That was perfectly acceptable. And let’s face it—he was getting a major break with the delayed billing she’d secured for him. It wasn’t a one-sided situation.

But if he wanted to make good on their contract, he needed to start the day with the rest of the world and not on music star time. It was time to move. She was on parole from the Ice Queen today to work with the cowboy. And if they were going to make the first meeting, she needed to drag his sweet behind out of bed. Pronto.

“
R
ise and shine, sleepyhead.” Mel invaded his room at the first sign of daylight shining through his window. Dawn was an obscene time of day he chose to ignore.

“Nobody’s home,” he barked. “Come back later.” Aaron was up most of the night writing a new song. He’d been pouring his heart into his comeback and left nothing on the table. But last night, he breathed new life into his work.

He didn’t want to think about the possibility that it was Mel who brought the inspiration. And he definitely didn’t want her pulling him out of bed after his all-nighter. He whipped the sheets over his head and tried to ignore her.

“This is serious music business,” she said, inching her way closer. He could hear her light footsteps, and hell, her damn spicy scent was wafting its way under his sheets.

“Stop right there,” he threatened.

Another step.

“I mean it, Mel.”

Another step.

Then silence.

Until she gripped the sheets and pulled.

“Oh my God,” she screamed. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” She was babbling now. Served her right.

Yep, he was buck-ass-naked. And though he’d already made her come—twice—and she’d returned the favor, she’d never had a chance to really look at the goods before. She’d touched him—oh boy, had she touched him—but seeing him in his glory in the light of day, first thing in the morning? Clearly not what she expected.

He chuckled. “I warned you, Mel.”

“I didn’t think,” she said, flipping the covers back over his now wide awake body when he made no effort to cover himself. “Do you always sleep naked?”

“Always.”

“And do you always wake up
that
way?” she asked, always so bold with her questions. He loved that about her.

“Always,” he said again.

“Well, that’s going to make our arrangement a little difficult.” Mel’s gaze darted about the room.

“Tell me about it. I have to live with the thing between my legs,” he deadpanned.

She blushed and sputtered. He’d seen many sides of her, but this shy side? It was downright adorable.

“Do you always have to be so crude?” she asked, although there was more exasperation than bite in her voice.

“No, but you bring it out in me.”

“Still, you can’t be saying shit like that when we have a hands off policy. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you want to change the ground rules.”

“I’m listening,” he said. Oh, yes. He was all ears.

“It’s just, I think we can alter the rules is all.” She glanced at the floor. “I know we’re working together, but it isn’t long term. So I’d personally like to enjoy the time we have left.”

“And you’d like to enjoy me?”

He’d seen her angry and cheerful, turned on and reticent. But this little hint of vulnerability, followed up by that mischievous grin he’d come to adore—how the hell was he supposed to defend himself against
that.

“Melody?”

She glanced at her watch, a sparkle in her eyes. ”Sorry, tough guy, you’re just going to have to wait for an answer to that question. I was serious. We do have important music business. We’re checking out the venue for your party and we have to be there”—she checked her watch again—“in like thirty minutes. So get your naked butt up and get ready. And bring your guitar.”

S
o, feeling something up against your leg or in your hand, and then seeing it in daylight? Two totally different things. She really didn’t even fathom that he might be naked under the sheets. Stupid, because it totally made sense that he’d sleep nude. The guy liked his freedom.

But shoot, she had to pull herself together. Despite the way Aaron was blowing this off, the venue for his party was a huge deal. She knew this. The location, the lighting, the music, even the scent, could make or break an event. And this was so important for Aaron. He needed to look the part, act the part,
be
the new and improved Country Superstar Aaron Major. Classy and in control, reformed outlaw, available bachelor (
grrrr
), smart and sexy Aaron Major. All the men should want to be him and all the women should want him in their beds (double
grrrr
).

Though it wasn’t a public event, the invite list included some of the biggest country music bloggers, label heads, new artists, song writers, and producers. They’d start with the influencers and work their way down. Key portions of the event would be live-streaming for fans. It couldn’t be stated strongly enough how big of a deal this was.

So she had to be on her game. She could
not
be thinking about what she saw this morning—no matter how impressive it was. Her legs involuntarily squeezed together at the thought.

She rested her hand on his arm as they entered the old tavern called Pray.

“Ready to go to church?” she asked.

“I’m ready to do whatever you need me to do, Melody Sharp. You’re in control today, so lead on.” He held the door for her, and she gave him the hairy eyeball. Where was this coming from? She was prepared for cranky, irritable Aaron, not Mr. Accommodating. She’d have to keep on her toes today because he was surely up to something.

They walked in and Mel immediately fell in love with the space. The building had, in fact, actually been a church, but the congregation had grown so much that the pastor commissioned another building a few blocks away. She’d been told that, as a music man himself, the pastor and his choir played at the venue regularly. She thought Aaron would appreciate that.

The contractor for the remodel had done amazing work. He’d left the ceiling open, with the beams exposed, and at the back of the sanctuary had built a long, distressed wood bar made up of reclaimed lumber. The original pews were used for seating throughout the space.

The stained glass made for great lighting. Even at night, the streetlights would shine in, and if they kept the overhead lights just a little dim, it’d be perfect. Everyone would look great. Not that it was a worry with Aaron. He always looked amazing.

She couldn’t help but admire him as he walked through the room, his head tipped toward the ceiling. He made her tingle all over. It unnerved her, maybe because she knew he was more than considering her idea of breaking some rules.

In the interim between her ‘deal’ with Miranda and seeing Aaron sign on the dotted line, two things had crystalized in her mind: one, she would make sure that he reclaimed his fame; two, she would find a way to change some key points in their cohabitation arrangement. She wanted to make the most of every second she had left with him so when she trotted back home for the festival, she’d have the skills to show Teddy a thing or two.
If
she decided to meet him…and that was still a big if.

Strange. The entire reason she had started this was to teach Teddy a lesson, and yet she’d been so wrapped up in Aaron and the campaign, she’d almost forgotten about it.

The countdown had already commenced, and not only for the Last Hurrah. Aaron’s days were also limited. His launch was less than two weeks away. So, she wouldn’t let a moment pass without honoring what she’d set out to do when she first arrived in Atlanta. She’d have fun. Be a little wild. Discover what made
her
happy.

And Aaron Major
definitely
made her happy.

Two times with him wasn’t nearly enough. She wanted all of him. As soon as possible. And she didn’t feel even remotely guilty about it. They were both having fun, doing each other huge favors, and he wasn’t really a client in the traditional sense. She’d brought him to Miranda. They’d become friends, and really, who cared if they crossed the line every now and then in their short time together? It wasn’t a conflict of interest job-wise, because she didn’t plan to stay at Elite.

“So,” she followed in the steps behind Aaron, “what do you think?”

“This ain’t Nashville, that’s for sure.”

“But that’s what we want, right?” She assessed the room through his eyes, looking for the best place for the stage, imagining what the room would look like from his vantage point.

“Do you think it’s a little sacrilegious? You know, turning a place of worship into a bar?”

“It’s just a building, Aaron. And obviously the congregation doesn’t have a problem with it. The pastor brings his choir here, for crying out loud.”

“With the baby Jesus hanging in the window?”

“It was a place to help people find their way. I think listening to music can help people do that as well.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Not everything,” she said. “But look, we have a bunch of places on the list. We don’t have to stop here.”

“But I do want to stop here. Something about this place hits me. I like it. I like it a lot. And it’s symbolic. It’s perfect, actually.”

He began tuning his guitar, humming. The acoustics were incredible. Of course, the owner had said they were, but she had Aaron bring his guitar just to be sure. The owner was right.

This was their first stop, but she knew they wouldn’t need to go any further.

Aaron took a seat on a barstool, and then his sweet music rang throughout the room, seeming to roll around, seeping into the wood.

“Play the new one that kept you up all last night.” She wasn’t above begging. “Will you?” Or whining.

He looked hesitant, but then nodded. “You are the only person to hear this, Mel, so don’t judge me too harshly.”

“What’s it called?” she asked.

“‘More than a Trophy.’”

A lump formed in her throat, and she couldn’t say a thing. It was what she’d told him that first night she stayed with him. It was what she always wanted to be to someone. More.