“I think so. He deserves at least ten more dates,” she smiled. I just rolled my eyes in mock disgust.
“Well, hopefully by the time you get tired of this one I’ll have a new job,” I replied in a most unusually optimistic manner.
“That’s the spirit,” she yawned, as she began making her way to bed.
"Mel," I called after her, feeling the need to defend my feelings for Jesse. She turned around and leaned her shoulder against the wall. "I know that it's stupid to long for something that could never be, but at the end of the day it's just a fantasy. I know if I ever saw him again there could never be anything between us."
"Why do you say that?" She asked, softly.
"I don't know, for some reason it all seems so complicated. What we shared was only meant for one night, nothing more. I knew that going in. Rule #3 One night only. No strings attached. I guess that was easier for him. I just hold on to that memory because it makes me feel better, but you're right, I do need to move on."
She pursed her lips together and ran over to me, wrapping me in a tight embrace. "I love you sweetie. Things will get better, just wait and see. You just need to have a little faith.
CHAPTER THREE
Faith was not always an easy thing to come by. Six weeks dragged by without any job offers. I had applied to numerous office positions and went to a few interviews, but the phone had remained silent. Apparently you don’t get a rave review from your employer when you knee him in the balls before you walk out. Mel had been worried about me and kept assuring me that she would help me find the perfect job. I tried to have faith in her words, but with each passing day I couldn’t help but feel discouraged. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t put forth my best effort. I made sure that each time I stepped into an interview I looked the part and had done my research on the company. By now I had come to know a great deal about most of the businesses within a thirty-mile radius of my neighborhood.
One afternoon I was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing yet another cup of coffee. Since becoming unemployed my coffee intake had nearly tripled. It was a matter of survival. I could either drink a lot of coffee, or nap all day due to boredom and loneliness. I had been trying to keep myself busy and put my nervous energy to good use. I scrubbed the apartment like a mad woman, organized closets and the fridge, I even painted the entire apartment, and shampooed the carpets, but nothing filled the need to be working. I had worked since I was eighteen, and now that I was unemployed I wasn’t sure what my next move should be. It’s funny how your mind starts to think when it has so much free time. I started to doubt my choices in life. Had I made a mistake by giving up on college and jumping right into the workforce? I worked hard at my job, always showed up on time, and had worked my way up from nothing, but no one seemed to care about any of that. Everyone that interviewed me wanted to talk about post high school education. The question always came up. Why did you choose not to pursue a college degree?
Easy answer, because I was working my ass off trying to survive.
Just then the doorbell rang, startling me out of my pity party. I opened the door to find a man standing there smiling, he looked kind but I was still cautious.
“Can I help you?” I asked, tentatively.
“Rhyann Michaels?” he questioned.
“Depends who’s asking.” I replied, cocking my head to the right.
He held out a hand and I shook it gingerly. “I’m Nathaniel Davis, I work for Freefall Record Studio, and one of the bands I represent is in need of an administrative assistant.”
I stepped aside and made a gesture to invite him in. “I don't understand, how is it that my name came to mind? I don't know anyone in the music industry” I replied, noting how my voice had faltered at the end of that statement.
Wait a minute. Could it be? Nah, that's impossible, and wishful thinking on my part. This is nothing more than a coincidence.
"Mr. Davis--" I began.
"Please, call me Nate." He placed his briefcase on the counter and pulled out a few papers.
"Okay then, Nate, how did you get my name? Who is your client?"
He smiled kindly and motioned for me to join him on the sofa.
"Rhyann. May I call you Rhyann?"
"Yes, of course." I moved closer and waited for him to explain himself.
"I'm not at liberty to disclose that piece of information just yet. I am only here to help peak your interest. I'm sorry for the secrecy, but my client's instructions were very clear that I locate you and brief you on the job. I can assure you that this is a genuine offer, no gimmicks. The hours may be long and, I'm not going to lie, this client may be a bit challenging to work for, but the renewal of his record contract is dependent upon him cleaning up his act. That's where you come in. When given the option of the studio picking someone, or him having a say, your name came up."
“You’re kidding, right?" I guffawed, waiting for him to respond, but he just sat next to me and smiled. "I'm flattered that someone recommended me to you, but I'm not sure I'm the right person for the job. I can't imagine it would be easy working for a famous person, and I just recently left my job because of a difficult boss. I'm afraid I'll have to pass."
I couldn't believe I actually said that out loud. The first offer to come my way in nearly two months and I turn it down because I'm afraid I won't be able to handle being around another rockstar. That's what it came down to. I was afraid that it would remind me of the one that got away. I hated that I had allowed him to have that much control over my life. It was almost as if he had permanently tattooed himself on my body the moment he came inside me.
He stood and reached for his briefcase before chuckling politely. “Ms. Michaels, if money is the issue I can tell you the rate is three thousand dollars a month. Of course, you would need to move in with him to be available all hours of the day.”
Three thousa… Wow, that's a hell of a lot more than I'm earning right now.
I groan inwardly, knowing what I need to do. My bank account is slowly dwindling, and I don't exactly have anyone else beating down my door. It was move in and become a rockstar's assistant or nothing. My brain tells me to just suck it up and do it. After all, how bad could it be, right?
“Mr. Davis," I begin, causing him to raise his brow at me. "Sorry, I mean Nate. I would love to meet with your client." I cave, knowing Mel is going to chew my ass out for leaving her in this apartment alone. "What time should I come by your office?”
“Oh, he was very specific that you were to meet with him at his home this afternoon. Will two o’clock work for you?”
“That will be fine,” I replied, my voice shaking just a touch. “This is all so unexpected, but very exciting. Thank you.”
“Great. Well, here are the directions to his house, and all the details for the meeting. Thank you for your time Ms. Michaels, it truly has been a pleasure meeting you.” He turned and started out the door before stopping at the door with his hand hovering over the knob. “Rhyann, please do me a favor and don’t believe everything you read about my client. He is a good man, and I think you will find working with him to be quite a rewarding experience.” With that, he was out the door and I ran quickly down the hall to decide what on earth I would wear to meet a rockstar.
CHAPTER FOUR
I reached into my closet and began tossing aside clothes. I had nothing to wear. It was painfully obvious that up until now my life had been a complete bore. I made up my mind then and there that if, by the grace of God, I did manage to land this job I would have to buy a whole new wardrobe. Everything I owned now sat in a heaping pile in the center of my room and I still couldn't decide. I finally chose a red V-neck shirt that accented my blonde curls, and dark jeans that fit my curves just right. My tall black boots with three-inch heels completed the ensemble perfectly. I looked in the mirror and was happy with what I saw, but I couldn’t help thinking how different I must be compared to the women this man probably spent his time with.
A part of me wondered if Jesse
was the client I would be meeting. Common sense told me that there was a strong possibility it could be him, but my rational side chided me for getting my hopes up. I had spent the last two years visiting every bar and restaurant throughout Seattle, hoping to run into him again. I had dragged Mel with me to Theo's on numerous occasions, and each time I had gone home disappointed because it was as if he had disappeared. I guess you could say that I had become obsessed. No other word could adequately describe my actions.
The drive to his home had me fighting through hordes of traffic, but the scenery was worth the frustration. He lived in West Queen Anne, a neighborhood known for its spectacular views of the Space Needle, Mt. Rainier and the Puget Sound. The homes around here went for two million plus, easily, and I couldn't help but let out a low whistle as I pulled up to the gate. I followed the instructions Nate had given me to get through security. The first thing I noticed about the house was a wrap around porch and the large swing that took up one corner, it was practically begging me to put my feet up and read a book. The yard, while not large, was decorated with mature trees and ornamental shrubbery that provided privacy. I took a quick assessment of my hair and lipstick before getting out of the car. I followed the brick paved path to the front porch and climbed the stairs.
Approaching the door timidly, I rang the bell, nervous about who may be on the other side. After a few moments it opened, and I stood face to face with the man who had haunted my dreams for the past two years.
For a brief moment, I actually stopped breathing.
Jesse Montgomery was a sight to behold, standing at just over six foot two with dark, messy hair, and those captivatingly hazel eyes that I remember staring into when he was buried deep inside me. Even two years later, he very well could have been the most gorgeous man I had ever laid my baby blues on. Thick waves of hair cascaded down to his shoulders, and I couldn’t help but remember how soft it had felt when my hands had been buried deep within it. He wore faded jeans that hung low over his hips and accented the perfectly sculpted V that rested below his beautiful abs. Scuffed black Timberlands adorned his feet, and a tight fitting black Henley with the sleeves pushed back showed off a new tattoo on his right forearm. He looked so perfect it was hard not to stare. His lips parted, and I did my best to muffle a gasp as memories of what he had done to me with his mouth flashed before my eyes. I had spent the last two years dreaming of this moment, and never once did those memories include me passing out, but I seriously feared it might happen.
He titled his head as his gaze ran over my body, coming to rest on my mouth. His lips slowly curled into a crooked smile and his tongue grazed sensuously over his lower lip, and in that moment I knew he definitely remembered me. As I stood in the doorway I found myself wondering why he had really asked me here, because the way he was looking at me indicated something more than a mere job offer.
“Rhyann, it’s good to see you again.” The sound of my name rolling off his tongue made my toes curl. When we had been together he hadn't known my name, and after he said it the first time I silently prayed I wouldn’t start foaming at the mouth. I stared at his gorgeously full lips and realized that my heart rate had increased significantly. Maybe if I was lucky I would pass out and he would have to give me mouth to mouth with those luscious lips.
Pull it together girl.
I can't do this! I screamed at myself.
“Yes, it has been a long time.” I agreed, thankful that I had found my breath. We both stepped forward and gave each other an awkward hug.
He laughed, running a hand through his hair, and a cluster of diamonds winked at me from behind the falling strands. Lord, have mercy. This man was the epitome of good looking. He was tall and lean, with defined muscles that I was all too familiar with on display in his tight fitting shirt and sexy as hell jeans. The fact that his angular face was covered in dark stubble increased the panty-melting factor. My heart continued to race at the speed of light and I thought for sure any moment I was going to implode. Run, I told myself, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't seem to make my feet move in the direction of my car.
“Please, come in and make yourself at home.”
I put on a brave face and stepped inside, silently wondering what the hell I was even doing here. This wasn't the same home he had brought me to before, which made sense. He hadn't been famous then, now his band was one of the hottest around. Before, he had been a young, struggling musician, with a voice that made all the women swoon, and a sexy body that made him impossible to forget. I looked around the room. The interior décor wasn’t at all what I had expected. I had pictured lots of black and white décor with cold marble flooring and sleek furniture. Instead, the walls were painted in muted shades of brown, and the furniture was a mixture of oversized sofas and side chairs in warm colors of cream, gold and rust. The floors were rich hardwoods that gleamed as if they had just been polished. A large stone fireplace sat in the corner of the main living area and a toasty fire crackled within it. Music played softly in the background and after a few seconds I recognized the sounds of Daughtry, one of my favorite bands. This house was a home, and it felt very lived in and inviting and I found myself surprised that after all this time I still felt comfortable in his presence.
“Can I interest you in something to drink? Water, beer, or wine?" He asked, taking my coat and hanging it up.
“Wine sounds nice. Thank you.” I replied, doing my best to keep my voice calm. I interlaced my fingers to keep them from fidgeting and walked over to the fireplace to look at the assortment of photos displayed along the mantel.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” he repeated, and headed to the bar to pour a glass of wine and grab a beer for himself. I tentatively sat on the corner of the plush sofa and straightened my shirt. I felt a bead of sweat trickling down my back and took a few calming breaths, holding the last one in. When he turned back toward me I smiled and blew it out. As he made his way over to the sofa, I moistened my increasingly dry lips and blurted out the first thing that popped into my woozy head.
“You have a beautiful home,” I was so nervous. I prayed that he wouldn't see right through me, but something told me that he knew me better than I knew myself.
“Thank you. I love it here. The first time I walked in I felt inspired and I knew it was the one for me,” he replied, eyes flicking briefly over the room before settling back on me. “Rhyann, that’s an unusual name for such a beautiful woman.” His voice was husky, and I immediately found myself slipping back to that night in his arms. There's no way this can work. I cringed, inwardly.
I took a small sip of wine and my mouth was instantly filled with the wonderful, crisp liquid. “Um, this is very nice. I was named after my grandfather. My mother said that after I was born he held me and I looked up and smiled my first smile. After that there was no question of what they should name me. We were close up until he passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry. I was close to my grandfather also, in fact, he was the one who taught me how to play the guitar. He taught my brother to play as well.” He smiled and stared deeply into my eyes for a long moment before he softly cleared his throat and spoke again. “Well, thank you for coming to meet with me. When Nate told me I needed to hire an assistant I knew right away who I wanted.”
"After all this time, you thought of me?" I laughed, exasperated by the thought. There had been reports all over the Internet about how he went from one woman to the next, never staying with one for longer than two months. Apparently, his partying and sexual indiscretions were what had put him in the position of needing an assistant in the first place. Now, after bedding countless women, and touring all over the world, when he needed to get his shit together I was the one that came to mind? For some reason, I found that hard to believe.
He shrugged his shoulders and gave me a smile the held none of the swagger I had seen in the tabloids. This smile was one I remembered from the struggling musician I had known briefly. The one smile that, when offered, h
ad taken my breath away back then. Now, that same smile made me feel as if this moment was the first time I had breathed fully since I'd walked out his door. “I saw you last week, in town. You were coming out of the grocery store, your hands were full of bags, and one broke. It was pouring rain and I watched as you crawled around on the sidewalk, retrieving your groceries. I wanted so badly to run to you and help you, but I couldn't bring myself to walk across that street." I sat quietly, watching as he told me the story of my humiliating day. The day I felt as if no one cared and I was alone. Here he was, the one I had been longing for, and he's telling me that he wasn't a decent enough human being to help me in my time of need. Maybe he wasn't the man I'd made him out to be after all. "You looked so sad that day. I looked at you and didn't see one glimpse of the confident woman I remembered. I guess I just wanted to give a beautiful woman her smile back.”
My Only Regret (Twisted Fate Book 1) Page 5