Blackthorne: Heart of Fame, Book 8

by Lexxie Couper

  It sounded like…

  Her mobile phone burst into life on the desk. For some reason, her heart slammed into her throat. Picking up her phone, she frowned at the screen. She didn’t recognize the incoming call.

  Beyond the wall of her office, the rock music continued, an alluring pulse beating in time with her heart. In her hand, her phone continued to ring.

  She stabbed at the accept key, raised her mobile to her ear and yanked it away again at the deafening sound of rock music blaring through it. Good rock music. The latest chart topper by Synergy, in fact. Without the walls and sound-proofing to dampen it, she could make it out now. Synergy’s Number One hit, “Silken Ropes”. The very music her DJ was playing in the club.

  An image of Josh Blackthorne filled her head, smirking at her, his grey eyes devilish. Her heartbeat quickened.

  Returning her phone to her ear, she closed her eyes. “Hello,” she said with a loud voice, the sound of the carnally sensual song about a woman tying up her lover thrumming in her head. “This is Caitlin Reynolds. Who is this?”

  “I just bought everyone in your club a drink,” Josh Blackthorne declared through the connection. “Except you, ’cause you’re not out here.”

  “No, I’m not,” she answered. “And that was way too generous of you.”

  “What?” he called, the thrumming music of his band and the seductive sound of his own singing in the background almost drowning him out. “I can’t hear you.”

  “I’m not out there,” she said, louder this time. “And you shouldn’t have bought everyone a drink.”

  “I can’t hear you,” he shouted into the phone. “The song the DJ is playing is too damn loud. Good though, don’t you think?”

  Caitlin rolled her eyes. Not at the ridiculously shouted tête-à-tête they were having, but at the laughter in Blackthorne’s voice. He was enjoying himself.

  And so are you. You’re smiling.

  The realization she was, in fact, smiling sent a tight lick of confusion and surprise through her. She caught her bottom lip and turned from the painting opposite her. “It’s not too bad,” she yelled back, her tummy fluttering.

  “What?” he called. “I still can’t hear you. I tell you what, why don’t I come in there and we can talk without all the shouting. Or you can come out here to me and I’ll buy you that drink?”

  Unable to stop herself, Caitlin laughed. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

  She could hear his chuckle over the carnal sound of Synergy in the background. “I’m a lot of other things as well. Give me a chance and I’ll show you.”

  Her tummy fluttered again. This time, however, the unsettled sensation was rivaled by the heavy pulse in her pussy.

  Oh boy…

  Gripping her phone tightly, she shook her head. “I think we’re both better where we are,” she answered, closing her eyes. “Enjoy your night here at the Chaos Room, Mr. Blackthorne.”

  And before he could respond, before her uncle’s words of advice could whisper through her head again, she disconnected the call.

  Slumping back in her chair, she stared at the painting opposite her. Studied it. Thought of what it stood for and who had given it to her. A few minutes later, heart fast, pulse pounding, she turned from the painting and switched on the CCTV screens showing her the floor of the club.

  A second after that, she found what she was looking for. Josh Blackthorne.

  She didn’t know why she was looking for him, but she was.

  He leant on the main bar, his back to it, his elbows resting on its marble counter as he spoke to Zach who stood beside him. Her second-in-charge was laughing. Josh Blackthorne was grinning. Not his patented smirk, nor the relaxed smile she’d seen on his face here in her office, but a playful, boyish grin. She watched him take a sip of what looked like scotch. Watched him nod at a woman who came up and asked something of him. Zach straightened beside him, a menacing scowl falling over his features. Apparently, in the time she’d been in her office talking to her uncle, her second-in-charge had taken on the role of protective bodyguard to the rock star.

  Hmm, she didn’t know how she felt about that.

  The woman—a fan, going by the way she was squirming and giggling and constantly touching her cleavage—tried to give Josh a kiss. Zach stopped her with a hand. Josh shook his head, smiled at Zach and then gave the woman a wink and a quick kiss on the cheek. There was nothing dirty or condescending about it. Nothing conceited or arrogant. Caitlin couldn’t help but be impressed. If nothing else, the guy knew how to interact with his fans without causing them to be upset.

  The fan giggled some more, held out a napkin to Josh—Cailtin could just make out some black numbers written on its surface—and then flittered back into the crowd. Josh smiled, said something to Zach who smiled in returned, and placed the napkin on the bar behind him. He didn’t crumple it up and throw it away, but neither did he put it in his pocket. Again, there was nothing malicious or sleazy about the guy’s actions or attitude.

  Caitlin drew a slow breath, pinched her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger and watched him.

  Continued to watch him, noting the way he put people at ease when they approached him, noting Zach’s complete lack of suspicious hostility while talking to him—which was Zach’s normal MO when dealing with people he didn’t know well. She noted the way Josh spoke to her other staff, with a friendly smile and open warmth. She smiled when his friend—Rhys McDowell—grabbed him in a massive bear hug, hauling him off the floor and jiggling him up and down a few times. She let out her own soft chuckle as Josh laughed at McDowell’s enthusiastic embrace, his grin for the man filled with happy love. She watched him cast a curious inspection over the couple McDowell left with—a tall guy with dark hair and eyes and a willowy blonde in a micro-mini and ten-inch heels—protective concern on his face.

  She watched him.

  Observed him.

  Until she found herself longing to be out there with him. Until she caught herself focusing on his lips…remembering what they felt like on hers. Wondering what they’d feel like kissing her with more passion.

  More intent.

  “Enough,” she growled, turning off the CCTV screens. Guilt seared through her veins. Knotted her belly. Wrapped her chest in a suffocating vice.

  Hot, bleak guilt.

  And desire.

  Damn it.

  Chapter Four

  “Sure you don’t want another drink?”

  Dragging his stare from the door leading out to the Chaos Room’s staff area, Josh gave Zach Chapman a grin. “I’m good. Thanks though.”

  Caitlin’s second-in-charge let out a dry grunt. “Never met anyone who spends over fifteen grand buying drinks for a club full of complete strangers while only nursing one drink himself the whole night.”

  Josh chuckled. “I’ve never really been one for getting wasted. Not a fan of the headache the next morning.”

  Zach wiped dry a squat glass, lips twitching. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  With another chuckle, Josh turned back to his vigil of the door. Surely she’d be walking through it soon.

  “It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Blackthorne.”

  The soft female voice drew his attention and he smiled at the voluptuous blonde who’d been working the main bar with Zach. “You’re more than welcome. Thanks for putting up with me.”

  She giggled, a throaty sound that spoke of an invitation waiting for him to accept. “Any time.”

  She’d not only sent out cues during the night he could have his wicked way with her, she’d outright declared it as the last of the Chaos Room’s patrons exited the club. When the very last clubber walked through the main door, leaving just the staff and a sticky, coaster-littered floor behind, she’d leant across the bar, showing off her very impressive cleavage, and said, “I’m yours if you want me. And I have no inhibitions.”

  He’d declined. It wasn’t that she wasn’t sexy or appealing or friendly, she just wasn
’t—Caitlin—what he was in the mood for.

  He was in the mood for some conversation. Maybe some lasagna.

  And a full, plump bottom lip that felt like fucking heaven when you kissed…

  “Here’s my number.” The barkeeper held up her hand now and stepped closer to him, a small piece of folded paper held between her index and middle fingers. Without breaking eye contact, she slipped those fingers—and the folded paper—between his waistband and lower stomach. “Call me whenever you want…anything.”

  He sucked in a breath, his stomach hitching a little. “Thanks,” he said with a nod.

  “You’re welcome,” she murmured, her eyes telling him exactly what anything entailed, she crossed the now swept and polished dance floor to the exit door, hips swaying with exaggerated seduction. She tossed him a come-hither smile over her shoulder, flicked her tongue along her top lip and left, the last of the Chaos Room’s staff to depart, save for Zach.

  “That happen a lot?”

  Josh turned back to the man behind the bar. “Every time I’m out in public.”

  Zach shook his head. “Must be a tough life.”

  Josh laughed at the sarcasm in the man’s comment. “Someone’s gotta do it though. Am I right? And playing soccer for a living damn near crippled me.”

  Zach wiped dry another glass. “Wonder if it’s too late to change careers?”

  “To become a rock star?”

  “Yep.” Zach grinned at him. “Only trouble is, I can’t sing for shit.”

  Josh laughed again. “Plenty of platinum-record holders out there that can’t sing.”

  “Oh, in that case.” Zach deposited the towel on the counter with a slap and a smirk. “Reckon I’ll tell the boss I quit then.”

  “That will be a shame, Zach. You’ll be sorely missed.”

  At the sound of Caitlin’s husky voice behind him, Josh jumped.

  He spun to face her, suppressing his excited grin. Telling himself to relax. To not appear too eager to see her.

  He was though. Eager and nervous.

  Nervous. Go figure.

  Eyes of the most stunning azure regarded him. She stood in the middle of the dance floor, arms folded beneath her breasts. “I didn’t expect you to still be here, Mr. Blackthorne. You are aware the club is closed now, yes?”

  He nodded, forcing himself to lounge back on his elbows. Crossing his ankles, he gave her a lazy smile. “I am.”

  Behind the bar, Zach let out a snort. “Oh man, you’re asking for trouble.”

  Caitlin arched an eyebrow. At her second-in-charge or at Josh’s goading, Josh wasn’t sure. She studied him, narrowing her eyes. “And you’re still here because…?”

  “Because I promised your uncle I’d buy you a drink.”

  “You did not.”

  “Okay, he promised me you’d cook me dinner and I haven’t had anything to eat since halfway over the Pacific.” He affected a wounded-puppy expression. “C’mon, take some pity on me. I’m hungry.”

  Her lips twisted. “Have a peanut. There’s a bowl right next to your elbow.”

  He shook his head, holding her gaze. “Can’t. I’m allergic.”

  Worry flittered across her face. “Really?”

  He shook his head again. “No.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “Why? What else do you have to do at—” he flicked his watch a quick glance, “—three-fifteen in the morning?”

  Shifting her feet a little, Caitlin fixed him with a pointed gaze. “Go home. Have a shower. Go to bed.”

  Josh nodded. “Okay, let’s do that.”

  Her mouth fell open. A soft gasp filled the air between them. The most delightful pink tinged her cheeks. “Are you serious?”

  Pushing himself from the bar, he shook his head for a third time. “No. But, boy, I love the way you’re blushing now.”

  “Okay,” Zach uttered behind him. “I’m outta here. Boss, all that’s left to do is lock up. Mr. Blackthorne, you’re welcome back here any time.”

  Josh couldn’t stop his chuckle as Caitlin gaped at her employee. “Thanks, Zach,” he said, bumping fists with the massive man.

  “Excuse me, Zach?” Caitlin shoved her fists to her hips. Josh couldn’t help but notice how the move pulled the material of her T-shirt tighter across her full breasts. “Who owns the Chaos Room? You or me?”

  “You do, boss,” Zach answered, walking from behind the bar. “But I’m charge of arranging special guests. One of the duties you assigned me when I became 2IC, right? And I’m thinking having Josh Blackthorne in the place is good for business. In case you didn’t notice, the queue to get in tonight was more than double a normal Thursday night. And the Chaos Room has been mentioned in over five hundred tweets since you and Mr. Blackthorne faced-off out on the footpath. Any way you look at it, that’s good for business.” He turned to Josh again. “As I said, Mr. Blackthorne, any time.” He leant a little closer to Josh and dropped his voice into a melodramatic conspirator’s whisper. “I’ll make sure Mandy doesn’t shove her hands down your pants next time.”

  Watching Caitlin’s reaction to the statement, Josh grinned. There it was, a little flash of jealousy on her face. Booyah. “Thanks, mate,” he said, turning to Zach. He had no idea if the guy was intentionally helping him in his mission to get under Caitlin’s skin, but it seemed that way. Perhaps he should buy him a Ferrari to show his appreciation? “Is now the time to tell you the other barkeeper stuck his hand down my duds as well?”

  A booming laugh left Zach as he slapped Josh on the back. “Ah, you’re on your own dealing with Travis. That guy’s a sex fiend.”

  And with that, he gave Caitlin a nod, a relaxed, “Boss,” and crossed the dance floor, pausing only to open the door and exit through it. The solid thud of the slamming door echoed around the silence, emphasizing the fact Josh and Caitlin were now alone in the club.

  Fresh nerves pitched about in his stomach. He shifted against the bar, switching ankles as he waited for Caitlin to do something. Say something.

  She didn’t. She just stood on the spot, regarding him.

  Tension stretched between them.

  “So,” he said, grasping for his normal charm. “Come here often?”

  Caitlin’s laugh surprised him. “I can see why my uncle likes you. You’ve got the same woeful sense of humour.”

  “Hey?” He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. Inside, his nerves intensified. God, she had a wonderful laugh. “I thought that was clever.”

  She shook her head, rolled her eyes and made her way around to the business side of the bar. “That was clichéd. That’s what that was.”

  Pivoting on his heel, Josh tracked her progress until she stood opposite him, the marble counter the only thing between them. “What are you doing?” he asked as she plucked two squat glasses from the rack of freshly dried ones left by Zach.

  Without an answer, she turned her back to him, retrieved a bottle of Chivas Regal from the glass shelf that ran the length of the mirrored wall behind the counter and then faced him again. She removed the whisky’s cap, drew the glasses closer and poured in two shots.

  Josh watched her, entranced. She moved with such fluid confidence and grace. It was hypnotic to watch. And fucking sexy as all hell.

  Still without a word, she slid one of the glasses across the counter to him, her gaze moving to his. “That’ll be twenty-two fifty.”

  He chuckled. “So this is me buying you a drink, is it?”

  Her lips twitched again. “It is if it means you’ll drop the ridiculous notion Uncle L has planted in your head that you and I should hook up.”

  He wrapped his fingers around the glass and raised it from the counter, studied its contents for a bit and then gave her a smirk. “Is that what’s in my head?”

  “It is. And it’s not going to happen.” Without breaking eye-contact, she plucked the other glass from the bar and chinked it against his. “Cheers.”

  She lifted th
e glass to her lips and swallowed its entire contents in a single swallow.

  Josh felt his groin tighten. Felt his balls grow heavy. “Why?”

  Placing her drained glass on the counter, she studied him. “You’re not my type.”

  “Is that right?”

  She nodded.

  “And what type is your type?” he asked, raising his own drink.

  “Someone grounded,” she answered, circling the rim of her glass with a fingertip. Her lips glistened with the residue of the whisky. Christ, he wanted to kiss them. Or lick them. Bite them. All three, in fact. “Someone not so self-absorbed. Someone less cocky. Someone altruistic.”

  Lifting his glass the rest of the way to his lips, he fixed her in a level gaze. “Sounds boring,” he said before throwing back his head and emptying his glass.

  The liquor burnt a path straight through his throat. It was nothing compared to the heat he was feeling in the pit of his belly, in his groin.

  Hell, he hadn’t been this aroused by a woman since…well, since he first saw Caitlin’s photos in Chris Huntley and Liev Reynolds’s LA home.

  Returning his gaze to her face, he bit back a curse. A flinty light filled her eyes, the same disdainful reproach he’d seen there twice already.

  He’d fucked up somehow. And he thought their flirting was going so well. What had he said?

  “Being a good person isn’t boring,” she said, turning away from him with their empty glasses. “Just like being a famous one isn’t a guaranteed way into a girl’s pants.”

  She yanked open a dishwasher, deposited the two glasses in there with savage force and slammed the dishwasher shut. “There,” she said, turning back to him, glare firmly in place. “You’ve bought me a drink. Now you can leave.”

  Chest heavy, Josh frowned. “I’ve said something to offend you.”

  Her glare grew darker. An unreadable emotion flared in her eyes.

  He pressed his elbows on the bar and leant towards her, wanting her to see the sincerity in his face. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to hear you laugh again.”

  With a ragged sigh, Caitlin scrunched up her face and rubbed her hands at it. Her shoulders slumped. So did her spine for just a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her hands to gaze at the counter. “I’m not good with…this.”