by Marie Carnay
“Please tell me there’s a sensible explanation for the crack in our countertop.”
Rachel winced. “Sorry. I’ll pay for it if the manager bills us, okay?”
“It was made by your ass, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
“Eww. Did you at least sanitize it? Or, I don’t know, take some pictures?”
“Shut up. And yes, I gave it a thorough scrubbing.”
Melanie laughed on the other end of the phone and Rachel relaxed.
“Just answer one question. Which one?”
“Brooks.”
“Figures. From what you’ve said, Alec wouldn’t have even let you shut the door.”
Rachel blushed and tried not to laugh. “You’re probably right. Speaking of Alec, I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“Anything.”
“What are you up to tomorrow before work?”
“Why?”
Rachel grinned. “I think I need another new dress.”
9
Rachel stepped out of the town car and glanced up at the door to the restaurant. An over-the-top—so expensive she’d never even look at the menu—restaurant. A sign out front read “Closed for Falcon Records Media Event” and a PR woman with a walkie-talkie and a guest list stood at the door. Oh my god. She smoothed the skirt of her simple black dress and hoped she was fancy enough. Polished enough. Everything enough.
Walking up to the woman, she plastered on a smile. “Hi, I’m Rachel Madison.”
“Okay, let me see…yes, here you are.” She penciled a check next to her name and pulled open the door. “Have a good time.”
Rachel nodded and stepped into another world. Ice towers covered in cascades of caviar, tux-clad servers carting around trays of champagne. Beautiful people everywhere. She grabbed a glass off a tray as it sailed by and took a gulp. I can do this.
“Mushroom cap canapé, Miss?” A server to her right held out a silver tray dotted with upside down mushrooms with piped-in filling.
“Oh, um, no thanks. Champagne is enough for me.”
He nodded and walked on. Wow. Okay. She took a breath and scanned the room looking for Alec or Brooks.
“Mmm. There you are, looking as gorgeous as ever.” Alec slid up to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, but she edged out of his grasp.
“Thanks.”
“You okay?”
She took in his dark navy suit, white shirt, collar open. His mussed up hair and wicked grin. “Mmm-hmm. Just trying to stay professional.”
“Ah, I see. Then, welcome to Falcon’s media event, Ms. Madison. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”
She blushed and gave him a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Wells.”
His eyes flashed and she knew by the way he stared that her words turned him on. “You’re still interested in singing tonight, I hope.”
“I am.”
“Good. Then let’s do the rounds. There are people you should meet.”
Over the course of the next hour, Alec introduced her to everyone who was anyone at the event. She’d shaken hands and exchanged small talk with reporters, DJs, music executives. She’d even chatted with Mr. Garrett from Avenue Records. And now Alec was steering her toward a petite blonde with a body to die for.
“Rachel, this is Daphne Meadows, she’s our right-hand woman. The head of A&R at Falcon.” Alec smiled and Rachel gave the other woman a nod. Wow. She was gorgeous and sexy and…half Rachel’s size.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Madison.”
Daphne held out her hand and Rachel gave it a brief shake. “Please, call me Rachel.”
“Mr. Wells tells me you are going to perform this evening?”
Rachel glanced up at Alec and he nodded. “If that’s alright, yes.”
“It’s perfect. If you’ll come with me, I can get you miked up and ready.”
“Um…”
“That would be lovely, thank you, Daphne.” Alec turned to Rachel and gave her a smile. “I’ve got some mingling to do. You’re in excellent hands with Daphne.”
Rachel smiled and Alec took his leave before blending into the crowd with ease.
“So how well do you know Mr. Wells?”
The question caught Rachel by surprise and she shook her head in confusion. “I’m sorry?”
Daphne raised an eyebrow so high it formed an upside-down v. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I see the way he looks at you.”
She didn’t know what to say. The woman looked so professional on the outside. Perfectly coifed blonde curls, smart little sheath dress that showed off her tan legs and athletic body, four-inch black pumps. But she basically accused her of sleeping with Alec…Which was true. Shit.
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
The smug grin on Daphne’s face said she didn’t buy that answer one bit. “Well, how about a little piece of advice, sweetie? Keep your legs closed until after you have a record deal.”
O-kay. No way was any woman treating her like that. Even if she was head of A&R. She blinked and gave her a fake smile. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. So, how well do you know Alec?”
Daphne paused for a beat, but returned the smile. “Well enough to know his predilection for fresh talent.”
“I’ve heard. But, you know what? It doesn’t matter. Whatever Alec has done in the past, or chooses to do now in his spare time, is none of my business. Or yours, am I right?”
Daphne swallowed like she had an egg in her throat, but nodded. “Yes, of course. Forgive me. I just wanted you to be aware of his tendencies, that’s all.”
“I am. Thank you.”
“Great, well then, how about we get you ready to sing?”
“I’d like that very much, thank you.” Rachel smiled at Daphne’s back as the woman led her through the crowd to the stage. She might have claws, but from the way she folded, they weren’t that long. Rachel could work with that. If she had to.
* * *
“I don’t care where the information is coming from. I’m telling you, it’s false.” Brooks paced his office, checking his watch every ten seconds. Rachel was due to perform any minute and he was stuck at work, fielding outrageous questions. The reporter had caught him completely off-guard. Calling as he was rushing out, dropping a bomb that made him stop and shut the door. If what the man was saying were true…Their relationship with Rachel was about to be headline news.
“Mr. Sullivan, this information comes on very good authority. We have supporting documentation.”
He paused and forced his voice to stay even. “You have something in writing?”
“No….We have photos.”
Shit. He scanned his memory, trying to think of a time when they’d all been together in public. He came up empty. “They must be doctored.”
“We always examine every photo offered to us for sale. I can assure you. They are genuine.”
“Then you need to look closer because I’ve never been out with the two of them anywhere.” The man paused and Brooks’s stomach flipped. Whenever a reporter stopped speaking, it meant trouble. “What is it?”
“I…I never said the photos were of you, Mr. Sullivan.”
Brooks almost dropped the phone. “Are you telling me you have photos of Ms. Madison, Mr. Wells, and a third man—not me?”
Another pause. “Yes, sir. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
It was impossible. “There must be a logical explanation. Something doesn’t add up.”
“Is there a reason you thought the photos would include you? Are you in a relationship with Ms. Madison?”
“No. No. It’s just—I find it hard to believe she would compromise herself that way.”
“Well, sir, if you have nothing else to add, then I think we’re done here.”
“Wait. You can’t publish the photos.”
“We most certainly can.”
Fuck. He couldn’t believe what the man was saying. If there were photos of Alec and Rachel and some mystery man…did they go behind
his back? Have some hookup with someone else? That didn’t make sense. He scrubbed his face with his hand and looked out the window. Rachel hadn’t even signed a record deal. If her face were splashed all over a gossip rag, she probably never would.
He hated himself for what he was about to offer, but Alec would understand. He would have to. “What if I gave you an interview?”
The reporter was silent for a moment. “What kind?”
“One about me and Alec and our…indiscretions.”
“That’s old news, Mr. Sullivan.”
“But no one’s ever scored an actual interview with one of us before. And none of it’s been in the news since we launched Falcon.”
“Are you telling me I’d have an exclusive?”
Brooks closed his eyes. “Yes.”
“Then we might be able to work something out. I’ll be in touch.”
“I can’t wait.” Brooks clicked the phone off and closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was air his dirty laundry to the world. Now that they’d established Falcon as a major player in the L.A. music scene, dredging up the past would be bad for business.
But no way was he going to let Rachel’s name get dragged through the mud. Not because he and Alec liked to share and she indulged them. She was on the brink of making it—of signing with a label, Falcon or otherwise—and having her dreams come true. He knew how much that meant. If she had a shot at what he never could achieve, then he’d sell out. No matter how much it sickened him.
Without another thought, he grabbed his keys and rushed out the door. If he was lucky, he’d still get a chance to see Rachel perform.
A rush through downtown—gunning the gas on yellow lights, peeling out on every green—and he screeched to a stop outside the restaurant. Brooks tossed the keys to the valet and rushed inside as applause broke out. Damn it. He’d missed her.
She smiled at the crowd, eyes flitting over the sea of faces until she found him. And then she smiled for real. Mmm. Yes. He’d made the right decision. He’d walk through hell, ruin his own reputation, to have a woman like Rachel smile like that because of him.
Cutting through the crowd, he nodded at friends, clapped a few colleagues on the back, and eased up to the stage. Simple black dress, conservative shoes, and a smile so big it lit up the whole room. She glowed.
“You came.”
He held out his hand and she slipped her fingers over his. “I did. I’m sorry I’m late.”
“I don’t mind. At least you’re here now.” Rachel let him guide her off the stage and he sensed a rush of bodies behind him. She tensed and he leaned close.
“Do you want me to sweep you out of here?”
She grinned against his cheek. “You mean be my prince charming?”
“I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”
“Yes. Get me out of here. I’m ready to go.”
He pulled her toward the back of the restaurant, leaving the crowd waiting behind them without so much as a word.
* * *
“Brooks! What are you doing?” Rachel gripped the edge of the bucket seat with white knuckles as her heart thudded against her ribs.
He grinned but never took his eyes off the road. “I’m driving.”
“You’re going to get us killed.”
He turned the wheel and the car flew around another curve, shooting up the hills and into a tiny residential neighborhood. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Not when you’re being this crazy. Slow down.”
“I will. In just a few minutes.”
Rachel couldn’t believe it. At first she thought they were going back to the Observatory—same roads, same part of the Hills. But when he turned a different way and sped up the twisty road like an Indy racer, she nixed that idea. “Where are we going?”
“My place.” Brooks glanced over at her and winked. “Which is right…here.”
The car swerved again, Rachel slid in the seat, and before she could scream, they’d stopped. The car was perfectly parked in a tiny, one-car garage on the edge of the cliff. “You just about gave me a heart attack. Why would you do that?”
He shrugged. “Are you still nervous?”
“What?” Rachel shook her head. “No. I’m terrified.”
“Good. Then it worked.”
“Brooks, you aren’t making any sense.”
With a smile, he opened his door and got out. Strolling around the back of the car, he acted like they’d just been on a Sunday drive, not tearing up curvy, dark roads on the side of a hill. It was crazy.
He opened her door and looked her up and down. “You were a bucket full of nerves and worry back at the media event. I wanted to get it all out of your system. Bring back who you really are. I think it worked.”
“You drove like a maniac to get me to loosen up?”
As she gawked, Brooks held out his hand. “No. I drove with precision. A maniac would have hit at least a trash can.”
She laughed despite herself and took his hand. “That’s fair. But next time, just turn on some music. My heart’s had enough stress for a while.”
He pushed the car door shut and pulled her close. “You’re saying there’ll be a next time?”
“If you promise not to drive like that again, maybe.”
He crossed his heart with his index finger. “Promise. Come, it’s a nice night. Let’s relax outside.”
They walked through the garage door and out onto a wood deck. It wrapped around a tiny 1950s, flat-roofed bungalow and as they rounded the corner, Rachel paused. From one direction, the lights of the hillside flickered in the distance. From the other, she could just make out the pale form of the Hollywood sign looming above them. “Wow, Brooks. This is your place?”
“Mmm-hmm. I rented it when I first moved here. Something about living right here—it connected me to the history of the city and all its hope and dreams. You know?”
Rachel nodded. She did know. That’s why she left Modesto and moved to Southern California. It’s why she took a chance at a dive bar and served beer at night and auditioned during the day. The city captured her like it had captured Brooks. She smiled. Who knew she had so much in common with a billionaire.
“After the IPO, I bought it from my landlord. Built the garage, fixed up the inside. It’s not Alec’s showplace, but it’s enough.”
“It’s perfect. I wouldn’t move, either.” She walked over to a lounge chair and sat down and Brooks sat next to her. She snuggled close to ward off the evening chill. “So where are you from? It sounds like L.A. isn’t home.”
“Detroit. Not exactly the land of opportunity.”
“Not lately.”
He nodded. “I grew up always wanting to sing. I’d write songs in the back of my notebooks at school. Mowed grass all summer to buy a guitar. Taught myself how to play. I thought I’d come out here, sing a few songs and magic would happen. An agent would find me, know I was the next big thing, and my life would change forever.”
Rachel leaned against him and he wrapped his arm a little tighter. “That didn’t happen?”
“No.” Brooks laughed, but it was tinged with regret. “John Mayer beat me to it.” He looked out at the city lights and she could tell he missed it. Performing, being in front of a crowd. Pouring his heart out with his voice and a few chords on his guitar. The thrill of it all.
“How’d you end up at Falcon?”
“When I couldn’t get a break, I thought maybe if I worked for a label I’d figure out the secret, get an in. So I got a job at one of the big ones. Worked my way up through A&R. Met Alec a couple of years later. We worked well together—he ended up running the department, I was head talent scout. Finding new talent was easy for us.”
“Is that when you two started…”
Brooks tensed. “Started what?”
Rachel smiled and slid her hand over his thigh. “Sharing. I’ve read the tabloids, Brooks. I know your reputation.”
He frowned and looked down at his lap. “That doesn’t sc
are you off?”
“No. Maybe it should, but it doesn’t.” She turned on the lounger and took his hands in hers. “I don’t know what we’ve got—the three of us—but it’s something I don’t want to lose.”
She wanted to tell him she was falling for them both. That in the course of a few days they’d turned her world upside down and all she could see were Brooks’s strong hands and Alec’s cocky grin. That she wanted to stay wrapped up in their arms all night and wake up with the pair of them tangled around her in bed. But instead, she just smiled.
“You’d be willing to see how this all works out—the three of us—together?”
She nodded. “If you two are willing to let me go as an artist, then I most definitely am.”
Brooks frowned. “Why does that matter?”
Rachel breathed deep. She thought that part was obvious. “Because if I sign with Falcon, then who will take me seriously? I’ll be your vanity project. Or worse—everyone will think I got the deal because I slept my way into it.”
Brooks furrowed his brow and looked at her. “You really think that?”
She nodded again.
“Then we’ll make that happen. I want you, Rachel. And Alec does too. If that means Falcon can’t sign you…then so be it.” His face broke into a smile that showed so much more than hope. “I’m not going to lie, Rachel. We’ve never done a relationship before.”
“Shh.” She put a finger on his lips. “I don’t care. It’s not like I’ve ever dated two men at the same time. But I’m a grown woman. I can handle it.”
Brooks took her by the waist and dragged her on top of him until she straddled his lap. “There are so many things you’re good at handling, honey.”
Rachel laughed. “Is that an invitation?”
“It’s the truth.”
Without another word, Rachel leaned over and kissed him, pressing her lips against his as she held his face in her hands. All the excitement and energy she’d had when she first arrived in the city surged back to life inside her while she kissed Brooks. It wasn’t his fancy car, or his ownership of Falcon. It was him—the man running his hands up and down her back. The one who’d whisked her out of his own media event to ease her nerves. The one willing to let her go as an artist to keep her as a lover.