Epic Love Stories--Complete Box Set

by Kelly Moore

  She’s had her fill of jealous, obsessive men or men that only want under her skirt for the contract she could get them with Monster Music. Her heart’s been ripped out a time or two and doesn’t want to share that part of her again. I can’t blame her. Aubrey and I are honest with each other. She knows my story and leaves it where it belongs, in the past. To be truthful, I couldn’t handle my heart being broken again either.

  It doesn’t take long for my mind to wander when the piano music changes to a woman’s soft voice singing. It reminds me of Lyla, and that familiar ache starts in my chest. I’ve always felt guilty that I couldn’t save her. That I couldn’t unbreak her. I thought loving her would be enough, but it wasn’t. I gulp down my last taste of whiskey, wanting it to erase the images that flash in my mind.

  Over the next couple of hours, I make a point of mingling among the guests. There are some very important people in the industry here for Greg, and for me. I’m very good at putting on a smile and being all business. It's what’s made me so successful. I meander over to Greg and wait for his conversation to end.

  “I’m going to call it a night. You and I still on for a game of pickleball tomorrow, midmorning?”

  “I reserved our court at the club for noon time. I figure that’ll give me plenty of time to kick your ass before you go back home.” He chuckles.

  “I’ll meet you downstairs at noon.” I shake his hand before heading to the elevator. I make my way to my room, and the door is cracked open. The soft lights built into the molding along the lower part of the wall is the only thing on in the entryway. The double doors shutting off the small living area to the bedroom are closed. I tug off my suit jacket and strip out of my tie. Kicking my black dress shoes off, I unbutton the sleeves of my white shirt as I open the doors.

  Aubrey has the lights dimmed, and she’s resting up against the headboard of the bed, completely naked. I continue to unbutton my shirt down my chest as I drink in the sight of her.

  “You’re thirty minutes late,” she says in a sultry voice.

  “Waiting has made you want me more, hasn’t it?” Even in the soft light, I see her pupils dilate. I pull off my shirt and stand next to the bed. She gets on her knees and makes her way over to me, her bare chest flush with mine. I can feel her nipples tighten against my skin, and it makes me hard. She loops one arm around my neck. Her other hand is working on the button of my slacks. I reach around her with both my hands and grasp her ass, grinding myself into her.

  “We have all night long,” I say, nipping at her lip with my teeth. It’s been too long since we’ve met up. I don’t think I can control myself with her tonight. I’ve learned that she likes a little roughness, and I’m not opposed to giving her what she wants because I know in the end, she’ll meet all my needs, as I will hers.

  The phone ringing wakes me up. I stretch over the empty sheets where Aubrey had been all night long, to snag my cell phone.

  “Hello.” I wipe my hand over my face and feel my soft beard.

  “Hey, sorry I had to skip out before you woke up this morning. My mother called and said my daughter was running a fever, so I left to go pick her up.”

  “Of course. I hope she’s okay.” Her twelve-year-old daughter is from the man that ripped her heart out. He left her before she found out she was pregnant and he knows nothing about the girl.

  “I’m sure it’s just your normal cold.” She’s quiet for a minute. “Thanks for last night, and thanks for always keeping things just between the two of us.”

  “Same here.”

  “Call me next time you come through town, or you’re at the airport.”

  We’d booked a room a few times at the Marriott next to the airport on her lunch break. “I will. Call me and let me know how your daughter is doing.”

  “Bye, Jameson.” She hangs up.

  I get up, take a quick shower, and change into shorts and a t-shirt. I grab coffee and a late breakfast at the bar downstairs. Greg pulls out a barstool and joins me. He orders a Bloody Mary, and he looks like shit.

  “How late did your party last?”

  “Too late.” He rubs his bloodshot eyes.

  “We can cancel pickleball if you’d like.”

  “I’m thinking that sounds like a good plan. I’m getting too old for this shit. I miss the days where I could party all night long.”

  “You love throwing parties.”

  “Not like I used to.”

  I glance at my watch. “Since we’re not going to play, I’m going to get my things and head out. I’ve got a few demos I need to listen to before tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I’ll let you know when Reese Adams can make it to your studio.”

  Chapter 2

  As I flick on the lights in my studio, my phone vibrates in my pocket. “Hey, Greg.”

  “Reese had an opening and will meet with you today at one.”

  “That was quick. I was hoping I’d have time to finish up a demo I’ve been working on for a group called Ninety Proof.”

  “I like the sound of that already.” He chuckles.

  “I like them. They have a great vibe to their music and outstanding guitar skills.”

  “Well, Reese had to fit you in today because of a tight schedule with me the rest of the week.”

  I walk into the control room and sit in my chair, where I spend most of my days. “If I can get off the phone with you, I might have the demo ready, and I can send it with her.”

  “I can take a hint.” He snickers. “Give everything you have moving to Reese, and we’ll get some contracts headed your way.”

  “Will do.” I hang up and put the phone on a shelf behind the console so that I can get right to work. Pulling up the track from the group, I place the earphones on and plug it in. I listen to the music, making adjustments using the sliders. Too much bass rattles my ears, causing my head to ache. I clip in a part they redid at the chorus of the song to drag out one of their notes. Once I’m done with that one, I start on their second demo. The group has a lot of potential, and they’ve put in the work playing at small gigs around the country. Monster Music will make them a star.

  I yank the headphones off my ears. “What if they don’t want to be a star?” I whisper to myself. “If I would’ve left well enough alone with Lyla, she’d still be here.” I push back in my chair and prop my elbows on my knees, holding my head in my hands. Every singer or band I send in a label direction, I second-guess myself since Lyla. The only difference is, they sought me out. I don’t go into bars anymore to recruit anyone. They come to me because of the reputation I’ve built, but I still have a hard time. I end up grilling them, to make sure this is the true direction they want to go and to understand that their privacy is gone. The world will know them, and they have to be ready for it. Never once has my lecture drove any of them away.

  I roll back over to the console and put the headphones back on. It takes me several hours before it’s perfect.

  “Hello!” Someone is yelling loud enough to get my attention over the music in my ears.

  I glance at my watch, and it’s ten minutes after one. “Shit.” I throw my headphones down and scramble to the waiting area. There’s a woman walking out the door. “Excuse me. Can I help you?” I call after her.

  She stops in her tracks and turns around, almost storming back through the door. “I’ve been out here for”—she pauses and looks at her thin rose-colored watch—“ten minutes.”

  She’s wearing a silky, light blue blouse that’s buttoned all the way up to the crook of the delicate skin of her neck. It looks sharp, yet sexy as hell. The soft material hugs the swell of her breasts better than any woman I’ve seen in a long time. My gaze unconsciously dips down her body to her chocolate-colored skirt that flows to her knees. She looks too professional with her leather shoulder bag and expensive dress shoes to be a client of mine.

  My attention goes back to her face as she pulls her navy sunglasses off and they gets tangled in a swirl of her strawberry-blonde hair. Sh
e scrunches her lightly freckled nose as she tugs to get them free of her hair.

  “I’m sorry. I was in the control room with headphones on listening to music. Did you have an appointment with me?”

  She drops her bag in a chair, staunchly sticking out her manicured hand. “I’m Reese Adams. I believe my partner set up a meeting with you today.”

  I stare at her outstretched hand for a moment before my gaze collides with her coppery-green eyes that have a glimmer of a smile in them. They allude confidence behind her canopy of thick eyelashes. Her dark eyebrows arch when I don’t meet her hand with mine fast enough.

  She moves it up and down as if I’d shaken it. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Wilde.”

  My gaze then travels up to her full apricot-colored lips that curve into a grin. “I’m sorry, did you say Reese Adams?” I’m trying to recall my conversation with Greg. Did he ever mention Reese was a woman? Not that it matters, but I was expecting…

  “Were you expecting a man?” She read my thoughts. Her hands fly to her hips as she juts out her lovely chin. “Sorry to disappoint you.” Her words are laced with anger.

  I run my hand over my short beard, feeling a little flustered. “Can we start over?” I stick out my hand this time. She lets out an exaggerated sigh as she connects her hand with mine in a firm grip. “Please, call me Jameson.”

  “You can call me Ms. Adams.” She picks up her bag and throws the strap over her shoulder.

  I can see starting over wasn’t in her vocabulary. “Ms. Adams, right this way.” I walk in front of her, taking her to my office, but I hear her stop a few feet behind me. I turn around, and she’s at the door to the control room.

  “May I?” she asks, pointing into the room.

  I nod, and she steps inside. I stand at the door, watching her. She’s very graceful in her movements. I observe her as she thoroughly inspects the high-tech equipment that I use. She’s a nice eyeful with her curves and long, lean legs. She bends over to get a better look and tosses a ribbon of hair over her shoulder. I really shouldn’t be checking her out, but there’s something about her that intrigues me.

  “This is all top-of-the-line equipment you have in here, Mr. Wilde,” she stands tall and looks into the live room. “May I explore the equipment in there as well?”

  Whatever intrigued me in that moment is gone. “I didn’t realize you were here to scrutinize my studio,” I say with a little too much snark behind my words. I step into the hall and splay out my hand for her to come through the door.

  “It’s my job to know about our clients.” She sashays by me and goes directly into the live room.

  I lean against the doorframe and tap my finger to my lips. “Here’s the thing, Ms. Adams. I’m not your client. In fact, I think you’re mine. I send you business, not the other way around.” She has been here two seconds, and I’m angry at her, but oddly turned on at the same time.

  Her hand dings the top of the drums. “I guess it’s whose perspective you’re looking from. You get paid a good amount of money for the labels we sign.”

  “True, but you wouldn’t have ‘labels’ to sign if it weren’t for businessmen like myself.” I use air quotes.

  She takes a few feisty steps in my direction. I want to wrap my hands around her waist and steal a kiss, but I fight the urge. “Then I guess we’re going to have to agree to disagree.” Her hand flies to her hip again. I see a chink of weakness when her other hand twirls the end of her hair that’s fallen over her shoulder.

  Why do I want this woman so badly? I haven’t felt this way since Lyla. I clear my throat, swallowing my impulse. “I thought we’d start with showing you the criteria my clients need to fulfill, and then move on to the demos. But if you’d prefer, we can go straight to the music.”

  “The music is all I really care about. As long as you send us good candidates, that’s what matters.” Her tone is clipped, rubbing me the wrong way.

  “Don’t you think you’re coming on a bit strong?” I chuckle.

  “As a woman in the music industry, I think I have to be strong.” This time she crosses her arms over her chest, making a slight gap between the buttons on her blouse.

  I stifle a groan. “I think there’s a fine line between being a shrewd businesswoman and a woman that wants to keep her business intact by simply gaining the respect of the people growing her industry.”

  She steps up close enough for me to smell her sweet, sugary perfume. Her pupils dilate, and I can feel an electrical current surging from her body.

  “Is that your professional way of saying I’m being a bitch?” I shrug a shoulder, and she laughs. “You win. Maybe I did come on a wee bit strong.” She pinches her fingers together, then takes a step back. “Let’s play this your way. What was it you said? Can we start over?” She pushes her hand in my direction. “I’m Reese. It’s so nice to meet you, Jameson.”

  I can’t help but smirk at her and shake her hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  She holds her bag to her side. “Where would you like to begin?”

  I show her to my office in the back of the building. She sits in the leather cushioned chair across from my desk, and I open the wooden cabinet behind it, handing her a file.

  “This is where I start with my clients. As you can see, they’re required to have an extensive background in music.”

  “Do you ever accept anyone who is just starting out?”

  I lean on the edge of my desk. “I used to when I was a newbie on the scene in the business. Now, I’m a lot more particular about who I’ll do a demo for.”

  “That’s too bad.” She sighs.

  “Why’s that?”

  “There’s a young girl and her two-man band that play out of a garage in her home that I’d like you to see.”

  An ache builds in my heart, thinking about Gypsy. “In a few years, when she has some experience, you can send her my way.” I push off the edge of the desk and take the seat next to her.

  “I’ve persuaded the owner of a local bar to let them play this weekend. I’d really like you to hear her. Greg tells me you’re the best man for the job.”

  “We’ve come full circle again. I’m not your client. I don’t do the bar scene anymore.” I rise, more offended than I should be. “I’ll give Greg a call and let him know that you and I won’t be able to work together.”

  “Suit yourself.” She stands. “Mr. Wilde,” she says, my time as Jameson over. Grabbing her bag, she hightails it out of the studio.

  I snag the demos from the control room and run after her. She’s parked a block down, getting into a rental car. I run over and tap on her window. She squints and lets it down.

  “Ms. Adams, I’d appreciate it if you’d give these demos to Greg for me.”

  She glares at them and yanks them through the window. She presses the button, letting up the window and shoves her oversized sunglasses on her face. That is definitely not a sexual surge I feel from her; it’s waves of anger rolling through her sexy little body.

  I walk back into the studio and set up for my next client. “My fucking client!” I yell. Why am I so damn angry? Because for one brief moment, she turned me on. Because she’s the complete opposite of Lyla? I’m around women all the time who don’t get under my skin like she did. Like Lyla did. “Damn it!” I march to my office and pull open the bottom drawer of the desk. I don’t bother with a glass—I drink the bourbon right from the bottle. After a few big gulps, I put the lid back on and place it in the drawer. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and press my lips together, tasting the burn of the alcohol.

  My phone ringing in the control room has me shaking my head. I know before I even pick it up that it’s going to be Greg. I blow out a long, heated bourbon breath and answer it.

  “She called you.” It’s not a question.

  “I see you two made friends.” He half chuckles.

  “Look, I know I was a bit of an ass, but she came on way too strong.”

  “That’s what I
like about her. She doesn’t mess around.”

  “It would’ve helped had you warned me that Reese was a woman.”

  “Would it have made any difference?”

  “No.” I pause a moment too long.

  “Or was it because she’s a gorgeous, smart woman?” I can hear his “so I’m right” grin.

  “That had nothing to do with it.” My denial is not very convincing. “She just needs to tone it down some. You and I’ve worked together for years. You know how I operate my business.”

  “I do, but do me a favor? Go hear this young girl and her band sing.”

  “I don’t do that anymore,” I grit out.

  “I know your reasons, but I think it’s time you move on.”

  “I have moved on!” I bark loudly in protest.

  “This girl is special, and she wants the best in the recording industry to bring her along.”

  “I don’t care if she’s Mother Theresa herself. I don’t get business out of bars anymore.”

  “It’s my fault. I’ve done nothing but brag about you to Reese. She’s good at her job, maybe not tactful, and I’ll work on that. Do it for me.”

  I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. “Fine, but you make sure to tell her it’s a favor and don’t expect it to happen again.”

  “I’ll let her know.” He pauses. “I think if you’d give Reese a chance, you’d really like her. Once you get past her business persona, she’s a doll.”

  “So far, not so much!” I end the phone call.

  Chapter 3

  I glance at the time on my phone. “Damn it, I’m going to be late again.” Grabbing the keys, I lock up and head to the back of the building where I parked my motorcycle. I bought it not long after Lyla died because somehow I had this idea it’d make me feel closer to her. I’ve thought about getting rid of it, but I like the feel of it underneath me. I throw on my helmet and take off to the medical plaza downtown.

  I started having nightmares and trouble sleeping not long after I moved here, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I’ve been plagued with panic attacks. I tried to reconcile them on my own, but I know better than anyone that, at times, dealing with it by yourself is not the answer.