Rock My Christmas (FlameSmith in Love Book 1) (8 page)

Chapter Ten

Knocking woke Burn like knuckles to his forehead. He cracked open one eyelid and shouted, “Cease!”

“Then get up and open the door,” said Kendel from the hallway. “I have your breakfast.”

He glanced at his clock, which said nine. What time were they scheduled to leave? He couldn’t recall.

She knocked again.

Groaning, he stood. He glanced around his room and withered. She couldn’t come in here. On his way to the door, he grabbed a pair of jeans.

When he opened his door, she made to come in, but he put a hand on her shoulder and joined her in the hallway.

She scowled, glancing at the pants in his hand then down the hall. “You’re indecent. People will see you. You should be careful how you look in public.”

“That would require me caring what people think, and I don’t.”

Her gaze softened and met his. “Are you hungry?”

“In your room.” He ushered her next door.

“Fine. Geez, you’re a pain.” She keyed him inside.

Her carry-on sat by the door, and her room looked like nobody had stayed the night.

“You don’t have to make the bed, you know. Maids are only going to strip it later.”

She glanced over and shrugged. “Habit, I guess. Is Justina still in your room? Is that why you didn’t want me to go in?”

Her cringe made him smile. “Why are you concerned for Justina?”

“I’m not,” she said, her tone too light. She set a large paper bag on a small table by the window and sat in one of two chairs. “My concern is with you. You’re my employer. I’m just trying to do my job.”

He stepped into his jeans then joined her at the table. Delicious smells escaped the bag as she opened it. “Bringing breakfast to my room is hardly in your job description.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it. Everyone else is downstairs eating in the restaurant. The buffet sign said American-style breakfast, so I figured…”

He studied her. She hadn’t looked at him since coming in here, and tension tightened skin around her mouth and above her fine eyebrows. “Justina didn’t stay with me last night. She’s not in my room.”

Her hands halted, and her large blue eyes lifted to his face. The tiniest hint of a smile touched her lips before disappearing. That briefest of pleasure in her countenance stabbed a thrill straight to his groin, making his member stir to semi-arousal.

Her gaze lingered a fraction too long then dropped to the bag. She set a plastic-covered bowl before him and took another. “They gave us chopsticks and forks.”

“Chopsticks.”

She handed him a set then lifted the lid off her bowl and sent a plastic fork into a mix of stringed vegetables. “Soda or water? I wasn’t sure?”

“Soda.”

“Me, too.” She smiled, withdrawing two red cans from the bag and handing him one.

He opened the cola then removed his bowl’s lid. It contained the same as hers. “So what is this?”

“Something called bulgogi and pibimbop. The beef is barbequed, and the vegetables are crunchy.”

“Is it spicy?” Korean food, in his experience, tended to be hot, and he didn’t know if his stomach could handle it the night after a concert.

“I don’t like food that bites me back,” she said, shaking her head.

He laughed.

From the bag, she took a small covered plastic cup that contained an orange sauce. “Here. You can add this and it’s supposed to make it spicy.”

“No, thanks.” He used his chopsticks to try a piece of beef. When it tasted of steak and had a tender chew, he lifted his eyebrows. “This is really good. This is what Koreans eat for breakfast?”

“I’m not sure.” She had a swallow of soda. “Most restaurants aren’t open this early, but the ones I found open on my app showed only one menu. I think they eat the same foods all day. I couldn’t find a differentiation between breakfast, lunch, or dinner.”

“Interesting.” He tried the vegetables and found them tender but crunchy. Cabbage, carrots, bean sprouts, and a couple white ones he didn’t recognize all entwined into a sort of salad that had a distinct taste he liked. She rose another notch in his estimation.

“Do you trust me yet?” She gazed at him, her lovely eyes expectant as she chewed.

“Don’t ask me to trust you, Kendel. I’ll only disappoint you. I’m not capable. I promise I’ll try to be a halfway decent employer, and I promise you’ll travel the world while working for me. That’s all I can give you.”

Shaking her head, she looked at her bowl and used her fork to move food around. “I think there’s more to you, Burn. You know, peel an onion…”

“Yeh, I’m not really an onion. More like a turnip. What you see is what you get.”

“Yeah? Then what are you hiding in your bedroom? And if Justina’s not in your hotel room, how come we’re eating in mine?” She forked vegetables between her full, naturally pink lips.

“Not as tidy as I’d like, I fear. Certainly not as tidy as you appear to live.” He dragged his eyes from her mesmerizing stare and ate more beef.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

Because she was clearly far brighter than an assistant should be. He filled his mouth with pibimbop and made a show of chewing.

“We’re running out of time, you know,” she said and glanced out her window. “I think that’s our bus.”

“Shit. I still need a shower.” He half-stood and caught sight of a rounded, gray bus roof rolling past far below, followed by another.

She grinned. “No problem. You take a shower and I’ll get you packed.”

Regaining his seat, he barked a laugh. “Excellent attempt, but no. You check us out. I’ll meet you on the bus.”

They sat in silence for a few more bites then Burn took the can of soda to his room. He’d have to guard carefully when around Kendel. She was entirely too smart for his good.

*    *    *

“Where the hell is Burn?” demanded V, pulling Justina up the bus stairs.

Scrunching her nose at the diesel smell leeching into the bus’ interior, Kendel pointed at a bellhop hauling Burn’s black suitcases toward the bus. “Here come his bags. He can’t be far behind.”

“I’m always the last one,” said the lead singer, striding toward the rear with the groupie by her hand.

Justina cast her a satisfied smirk, but Kendel had the truth from Burn.

Jay sat sideways across two seats and drummed his sticks on the back of the seat in front of him.

“Clear off!” Air poked his head around and grabbed for the sticks but missed. “I’m trying to sleep.”

Dan went to the top of the steps. “Chivvy along. We’re behind schedule.”

Carrying two cups, one stacked upon the other, Burn came through the exit and offered a wave then jogged toward the bus. He looked refreshed, and his wet hair appeared black in the morning cloudiness. A plain gray V-neck T-shirt hugged his torso and tucked into a snug pair of midnight blue jeans.

Kendel averted her gaze and settled into a window seat. She hated how she wanted him, and she especially despised how much it pleased her that he told her he’d spent the night alone. She believed him, too. The man had a cranky streak, but he wasn’t a liar in her experience.

The Korean driver followed him inside and took a seat behind the wheel while Burn took a picture of his friends then scanned the seats. Kendel peered out the window, hoping he’d sit far from her. She wanted to see the sights, but if he sat in view, she’d stare at him. The man was way too handsome.

He took the seat beside her.

Sighing, she refused to spare him a glance. “There are plenty of empty seats.”

“I’m aware. Here, I got you this.”

She eyed an insulated cup where steam escaped a hole in its lid. “I’m not a coffee drinker.”

“It’s buckwheat tea. Try it.”

Reluctantly, she took it. Her fingers brushed his, and a heat that had nothing to do with the cup raced through her. Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard.

He seemed unaware of his effect on her. “I had some last time we visited. It gives you sustained energy without chemical stimulants. Tastes like cereal.”

She sampled a taste. He was right. It tasted like honeyed oats. “I thought rock musicians were all for chemical stimulants.”

He chuckled. “It’s not fair to stereotype, though V probably fits the image perfectly. Maybe I did too, once.”

“But not anymore?”

“No. Not anymore. Thank you for breakfast.” He cut her a sideways glance then took a sip from his cup. “It was a good nosh up.”

“Two thank you’s? You’re going to destroy the impression you worked so hard to make on me in Hollywood.”

He smiled “You’re cheeky.”

“Sorry.” She resisted an urge to graze her fingers along his freshly shaven jaw. She couldn’t decide if she liked him better this way or with his dark scruff.

“Don’t be. I like it. I like that you’re not afraid of me. You treat me like a regular person and expect me to behave. You have from the first moment. Of course, I’m not a regular person and I rarely behave, but I appreciate that you try.”

A surprised laugh bubbled out of her. “I’ll keep trying.”

He took a sip then sank his cup into a cup holder as the bus began down the hill toward the airport highway. “Excellent. Excellent. Listen, I’m zonked. Wake me when we’re nearly there.”

“The tea’s not working?”

He closed his eyes and scooted lower as he reclined his seat. “It’s for when we get to Seoul. It’s actually quite tasty when it cools.”

She enjoyed his peaceful countenance for a while then turned her attention out the window. The undeveloped landscape looked foreign, the wetlands stretching for miles in purple and red vegetation cut into strange, otherworldly shapes by gray, reflective water. Soon, they entered a freeway through Incheon.

As it began to snow, Burn’s hand found hers. She glanced at him, unsure what to do, but he slept deeply. His long fingers splayed over his middle while his other hand gave hers a squeeze. Behind his eyelids, his eyes moved in dream. She smiled a bit and returned to the view.

For the most part, Incheon could’ve been any other large city. She recognized signs for coffee sellers and restaurants popular in America, and block-style buildings offered nothing unusual in way of architecture. The occasional Christmas decoration made her smile, and a digital billboard announced a holiday extravaganza, but the details were written in Korean. Every now and then, an ancient statue or a unique sloping roofline created a fascinating aspect and gave her a thrill.

She could tell they left the greater metropolis as traditional rooflines increased in number and traffic thinned. Burn slid toward her until his head came close to her shoulder. The bus’ warmth had begun to lull her, and she didn’t want to miss anything, so she removed her band jacket. She balled it and positioned it to form a pillow against the armrest between them then put his head on her shoulder.

He sighed and snuggled nearer. Part of her adventured across Korea out the window, but part of her quietly soaked in the sweetness of having this beautiful man sleeping on her.

She glanced at his hand holding hers. Maybe he didn’t trust her with his eyes open, but he did when unconscious.

Chapter Eleven

Burn drank his tepid buckwheat tea and tried to climb out of his grogginess while Kendel checked them into their next hotel. Upstairs, she directed a bellhop like a pro, inspected his room, then paid the man in Korean money.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this a hundred times before?” he asked, sitting on his bed.

She grasped the handle of her small, purple suitcase and headed for his door. “I’m a quick study. I try never to make a mistake twice. Aren’t you impressed?”

“Enormously.”

She chuckled. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Until what?”

She opened his door and turned to face him in the doorway. “Album signing. Get changed. You’re supposed to look like a rock star.”

He grinned. Next door, her room door opened on a click then closed with a gentle clunk. He enjoyed her too much.

In the lobby, she stepped from Marty’s side, an approving glint in her eyes. She fingered the zipper on his black leather jacket. “This is more like it.”

“Am I a sexy rock god?”

Her eyebrows dipped a hair and her smile faltered. “No comment.”

Studying her a moment, he wondered if she suffered the same attraction for him he suffered for her. For the first time, he regretted the damage Wendy had done. He’d welcomed it, had used it as his shield against further harm and vulnerability. Now this gorgeous, intelligent, charming woman stood before him, and he could only wonder how long it would take her to betray him.

Self-loathing forced his feet into action. Heading for the door, he said too harshly, “Get me another buckwheat tea.”

The assistants rode in a van behind the band’s. His friends rode in silence, and he suspected they sat in the same jet-lagged daze he did. He wanted to sleep, but they had no time. Sipping the tea helped.

By the time they reached the gigantic store of music, he had an energy boost. His band mates still dragged, so he took the lead. Thousands of fans snaked through the store, waiting to meet them. FlameSmith security had erected a barrier that separated their table from the main area, and guards only allowed five people past at a time.

A twenty-foot, artificial Christmas tree towered behind them, and huge green and red candy canes hung from the ceiling and swayed in warm air wafting from vents. Burn grinned. The Koreans seemed to enjoy the holiday as much as anyone else.

While he and his mates signed albums and took photos with polite, smiling fans, Kendel and Marty fetched pre-signed photos of the band from boxes the store had provided. The girls, in their official FlameSmith jackets, worked the waiting line and answered questions. How had he and Dan lucked into such amazing assistants? Jay’s, Air’s, and V’s aides had gone elsewhere the moment they’d arrived at the mall.

The store staff kept cold water available at the table, but Kendel made sure he had buckwheat tea. At one point, she put a chocolate bar next to his cup.

While signing albums for a set of teenaged twin girls, he glanced at the waiting line. Where it went out the door into an attached mall, a young man with spiked, bright red hair leaned near Kendel and fingered one of her long locks.

Burn froze. Instant rage lit him from inside. The marker in his hand trembled.

“What is it, mate?” Dan followed his line of sight. He put a hand on Burn’s shoulder. “She’s just your aide. We don’t get to tell our employees with whom to associate.”

Kendel smiled and grazed straight fingers along the red spiked ends. She said something, and the man laughed. Her laughter joined his.

Burn dropped the marker.

V got to his feet on his other side. “Oh, shit. I had it wrong. She’s not yours. You’re
hers
.”

“What?” Burn stood, sending his chair toppling.

The crowd quieted, and Kendel’s eyes met his. Her smile melted. Immediately, she headed his way. Concern darkened her gaze. Fortunately, every step she took from the man, the calmer Burn grew.

“Take her someplace private,” Dan said quietly. “Go talk. We’ve got this.”

Talk. Right.

When she reached him, he took her by the sleeve of her jacket. “Come with me.”

“What’s wrong?”

He headed toward the back of the store. All eyes followed their retreat.

She gave her arm a resisting tug. “You’re scaring me, Burn.”

He palm-slammed through double metal doors into a storage room. Two workers startled then stared. He roared, “Get out!”

The workers hastily bowed then scurried away.

Facing Kendel, he took a deep breath then slowly released it.

“You’re so mad. Did I do something wrong? Am I fired?” Her large, blue eyes widened a fraction. She really had no idea.

“Damn it,” he ground through his teeth. He’d never wanted to kiss a woman more than he did Kendel in that moment. “You were flirting with that man.”

She frowned. “Flirting? Is that what this is about?”

“Admit it.”

She yanked her sleeve free of his grip. Her face going pink, she said, “He’s a boy, not a man. Besides, what do you care?”

He cared. God help him, he cared. Locking eyes with her, he fought an overwhelming need for her. It took every ounce of strength he had. In a quiet voice, he admitted, “I saw you talking to him. Laughing with him. And it gutted me.”

Her eyes softened, and she took a step nearer. “We were only talking. Apparently they don’t see many natural redheads here.”

He took one of her curls between two fingers and stroked his thumb along its silken strands. He wanted to be the only man allowed to do this. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Her lips parted, but she said nothing. Then something sparked in the flames of her blue eyes. Something primal and hopeful and longing.

It matched perfectly what he’d tried to deny in himself since meeting her. No longer able to subdue it, he closed the distance between them and cupped her face. She didn’t resist.

When her gaze went to his mouth, he gave in to his need. He pressed his lips to hers.

*    *    *

Shaking with desire and restraint, Kendel melted into Burn. Her brain bellowed that she made a huge mistake, but her senses rejoiced. He smelled of leather and sandalwood, and he tasted of sweet chocolate cereal. His lips, firm and warm, worked seductively across hers. Grazing then pressing then urging her to open.

Lights flashed behind her eyelids as she obeyed his silent command, letting his tongue enter. She eagerly met it and entered into an erotic dance. Lifting to her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He wanted her. He’d been jealous. She’d longed for this while dreading it. Now that she drowned in his kiss, all her turmoil crashed over her.

“Wait.” She gently pushed his shoulders and withdrew. It physically pained her to deny her passion. “Wait. This isn’t a good idea.”

“You think too much.” His voice rasped, sexy and low.

Taking her by the back of her head, he captured her mouth with a need that matched hers. The way he’d looked in his boxer briefs that first morning. The way he’d held her on the plane. The way he’d rocked her onto her heels at the concert last night. She couldn’t help wanting him. When he wasn’t querulous, nobody turned her on more.

Already, a coil of excitement tightened in her belly. Throbbing began at the juncture of her thighs. His other hand went to her lower back. When he brought her against him, she felt his arousal through his leather pants. This would go too far too fast.

She groaned. “No. We’ll regret it.”

“We won’t,” he whispered against her lips.

She pulled free. Panting, she ran fingers through her hair. “I will.”

His hooded gaze nearly undid her, especially when he touched his lips and looked at her mouth. Taking another step away, she held out a hand and shook her head.

“You knew this had to happen,” he said.

“I didn’t. It doesn’t.” She willed her heart to slow its racing pace. “I work for you. I didn’t come into this job hoping for a boyfriend. I want this to be just a job so that, in a year, I can simply walk away. No regrets. No ties.”

He approached. “We can be friends. What’s the phrase? Friends with benefits? No emotional entanglements. We both get what we want.”

“I can’t, Burn. I’m not built that way. I’m sorry.” Her stomach twisted.

“You won’t last a year.” He came a step closer, his eyes losing their lazy lure and going hard. “Either you’ll come to my bed or I’ll run you off. Maybe both. You’re too beautiful, and I’m too defective.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not that defective and I’m not beautiful. It’s a nice idea, but this is a tragedy.” She slid sideways, her back now to a storage shelf, and aimed for the door. “We’re adults. We can control ourselves. We can be friends without benefits.”

“And if not?” He advanced on her.

Panicked, she stumbled. “Then we adopt a formal attitude, which is appropriate between an employee and her boss.”

“Won’t work.”

“Then I’ll quit.” She shot out of the doors and speed-walked toward the table, glad to see the red-haired man had gone. People stared, including Marty and the band, and her face heated unbearably. “I
will
not love a man like my dad.”

*    *    *

Burn’s assistant avoided him the remainder of the signing. Afterward, the store hosted a luncheon, and he smiled when a woman carried a platter of bulgogi to the buffet. Unfortunately, it didn’t taste as good as the beef Kendel had bought for breakfast.

She ate by Marty and Jay’s assistant, barely sparing him a glance the entire meal. Her slighting of him bothered him far more than speculative glances and whispers all around. For the last three days, she’d doted on him. Spoiled him. It didn’t matter that he paid her to do it. He’d grown accustomed to her.

When the meal ended, they said their thanks and goodbyes. Burn took a bodyguard and went to the mall. He’d tried to make it a habit of sending his mother a gift from whichever country he visited.

As he strolled, he came to a gift shop displaying an elaborate golden lion in the window. He couldn’t pass it.

“Welcome,” greeted a motherly clerk behind the counter. “What I help you find?”

“This lion here.” He pointed to the window as his security man stood at the shop’s door. “How much is it?”

She came out from behind the counter, and a young couple, the only other customers in the shop, smiled nervously at him then left. The clerk took the lion from its display and flipped it.

“Five hundred thousand won, sir,” she said and offered it to him.

Burn accepted it. The lion, no larger than his hand, weighed close to two and a half kilograms. Brush strokes and telltale wavers in point lines attested to hand-painting. “It’s not solid gold.”

“No, sir. Korea very strict about gold. Leaf, sir.”

“Gold leaf.” He nodded understanding. The piece was stunning. “How much in dollars?”

She went to the counter and calculated then showed him the number display. Four hundred eighty-three dollars. Declaring it when returning to America could cause difficulties.

“Let me think about it,” he said and moved toward a display of wooden boxes inlaid with mother of pearl. His mum would be thrilled to get one of these.

“Four hundred fifty thousand won,” she said.

He glanced at her. “For the lion?”

“Yes. For lion.”

If his math worked out, she’d knocked ten percent off the price. He’d never haggled before, but she seemed eager and appeared to make it easy. Pointing at a lovely round box decorated in white cranes and colorful flowers, he asked, “How much for this one?”

She went behind the counter and put the box on the glass case top. “Fifty thousand won.”

For the size and detailing, she asked a reasonable price.

“Both lion and box, four hundred thousand ninety won.”

He smiled. “I’ll take the box. I’m not sure about the lion. It’s expensive, and I’ll have to declare it on the flight home.”

“No problem. No problem.”

“Maybe not for you, but immigration can be hell.”

“Hell?”

He shook his head. “Never mind.”

A shelf of books ran the length of the wall under the display window, and he squatted. One title caught his eyes.
Asian Culture and Food for the English-Speaking Traveler
. Immediately, he thought of Kendel. He pulled it off the bookcase and handed it to the woman.

“Ten thousand won,” she said.

For this item, it didn’t matter. He wanted it for Kendel.

The clerk put the book and box next to the lion at her register. “Make deal. Four hundred fifty thousand won for all three.”