Back with the Stuntman_A Single Dad Second Chance Romance)

by Amanda Horton

Jacy knocked me off my feet.

  But Franklin was my best friend, and I would never make a move on his daughter. That would cut across boundaries I didn’t want to cross. In fact, my attraction to Jacine freaked me out.

  In one way, it was good. No other woman would register on my Richter scale and I could concentrate just on work. The yearning in my heart funneled into making cash, and a lot of it. Franklin and I were on par in the asset area, and I built a solid reputation as an entertainment lawyer. This is why I also worked closely with Franklin and in fact was on retainer with his firm.

  So I tell myself this dinner with Jacy is a business expense, though I know in the most secret part of my heart what it is.

  Time alone with the one woman I could never have.

  Why would such a beautiful young woman want an old man like me? Sure, I kept in shape at the gym, but as each year passed, I felt the workout more in the muscles than the year before.

  Even if this was LA and such pairing was as common as fronds on a palm tree, she was still my best friend’s daughter.

  Off limits.

  Do not touch.

  A big neon sign flashing “forbidden.”

  So, idiot me, that made her even more enticing than she should be. Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.

  I am not listening to what Jacy is saying because I think her plump lips look especially juicy, and I fantasize about biting her lower lip with my teeth and my hands cupping her creamy breasts. She dropped the tanning in favor of New York pale, but I like the look on her. Her blue eyes seem to shine brighter above the rose blush of her cheeks and her blonde hair done up in a tight bun is the stuff of librarian porn. My breathing grows shallow, and she looks at me with alarm.

  “Are you feeling okay, Uncle Tobias?”

  Uncle Tobias. The kiss of death. Relegated to the old man zone.

  I deserved that. I am a horn dog, a dirty old man standing next to a sweet young thing, and my thoughts aren’t just inappropriate. They are downright sinful.

  I wish I were a religious man because I think there is a prayer that says “lead me not into temptation.” I could use that kind of help right now.

  “I’m fine, Jacy. It’s been a long day.”

  “We don’t need to do dinner now. It feels like lunch to me, and you know New Yorkers don’t do lunch.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Not unless it is a job interview. You don’t intend to interview me for a job, do you.?”

  Oh no, but I could put those sweet lips to work.

  I really, really must stop thinking like this, but when I am with Jacy, I can’t seem to help myself.

  Wrapped in illicit thoughts, I didn’t realize that Anson brought us to an out-of-the-way bistro that seemed quiet. One of Anson’s talents was finding the right place to eat for the occasion, and today he deemed we needed a place outside the prying eyes of LA media.

  “This okay?” Jacy asked.

  “Looks fine.” I didn’t care. Sharing air with Jacy made me happy.

  We took our seats and ordered, me a steak fajita platter, and Jacy a chicken salad. I got the feeling she wasn’t hungry, and to tell you the truth, I wasn’t either. But I ordered wine for both of us. Maybe that would get me through this meal with my dignity intact.

  Speaking of, that particular aspect of myself was not doing well. Our knees bumped accidentally under the postage stamp sized table, and my small head got the idea there was more bumping to come. The wine couldn’t arrive quickly enough, and I took a big gulp almost as soon as the glass hit the table.

  Jacy watched me wide-eyed.

  “Are you sure you are okay?”

  I swear if she calls me Uncle Tobias I will lose it.

  But she didn’t. Jacy gave me a compassionate gaze that melted my heart. My jaw loosened, and if I didn’t keep it firmly in place, I’d pant at her like the horn dog I was.

  “I’m sorry,” she said gently.

  “Sorry? What do you have to be sorry about?”

  “My father. Acting like he did at the hospital.”

  “He had a scare. It’s natural he’d act a little off.”

  The waiter brought me a green salad with raspberries and walnuts. Was that part of the menu? Apparently, it was. Jacy scored a cup of soup. I took the opportunity to jam a forkful of arugula in my mouth before I said anything regrettably stupid. I swallowed hard because Jacy’s breasts stared at me like headlights, and they were lighting my world.

  Could I act any more like a teenager?

  Where was suave, sophisticated Tobias Marshall? Out to dinner.

  With the woman of his dreams.

  “So, what’s the damage?”

  Again I blanked out on Jacy’s running commentary.

  “Excuse me?”

  “From Cole Kane, Jersey Dys and Rory Holmes?”

  Ah, the troublemakers. Former friend and band mates turned bitter rivals. Jersey had a beef with Cole over supposedly “stolen” material back in the day from when they co-wrote songs. Rory got pissed at both of them for acting like idiots. They split off and formed their own bands, but like brothers, kept the rivalry going. Unfortunately, it turned nasty at Angelo’s last night.

  “The damages at Angelo’s was minimal. They won’t file suit as long as the boys pay their share for the damage and agree to be banned for life.”

  She grimaced but really, it wasn’t that bad.

  “It’s the rivalry that these three have,” Jacy said. “It sparks fan interest, but we can’t have them hurting themselves or others.”

  “I’m more worried about their insurance companies dropping them for liability damages.”

  Jacy pinched the bridge of her nose. “We’re their PR guys, not management, but for the interest of keeping everything from blowing to smithereens, I’ll get them into a meeting and inspire them to slow their roll.”

  “You think you can do that? With three high energy guys who haven’t heard the word ‘no’ in the past ten years?”

  “I can do it,” said Jacy with steel in her voice. Her sapphire blue eyes glittered prettily at me and my big head got lost in little head thoughts.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jacine

  My email came straight from my father’s account. I wanted no pussyfooting on this issue. The media circled like hungry sharks for any new tidbit of the “feud” between the three key members of the three hottest rock bands on the planet. So I summoned Cole Kane of Arcane, Jersey Dys of Obsidian and Rory Holmes of Clash, and sent limos to their houses to bring them in.

  Tobias offered the previous night to sit in on the meeting, and I thought it was a good idea. He arrived a few minutes before noon and fixed a drink with the familiarity of family. Tobias settled onto one of the black leather sofas that graced my father’s enormous office high above LA’s skyline.

  My father’s best friend fits here, on that black leather sofa and among the dark brown wood paneling streaked with tan. He leaned his head back a minute and took a deep breath. It was an old realization habit of his though I had no idea why he would be nervous. It was me who had the reputation of Alexander and Wells on my shoulders.

  I spent the morning with my dad’s best teams, all of whom needed no prompting on staying up all night to come up with a damage control plan. Their assistants were on the phone or the internet working on the scheme. I should bring Tobias up to speed before the Terrible Three showed their overhung faces. With rock stars sense of time, we were in no danger of them interrupting us.

  “I met with the creative team this morning. They had some great ideas. One of them was that the scuffle was a publicity stunt that got out of hand.”

  Tobias stared into his whiskey.

  “You guys know best,” he said. “I don’t know how you do it anyway. This is a freaking mess with court cases hanging over their heads and the public—”

  “The thing is, Uncle Tobias—”

  He frowned and then tossed back the finger left of his whiskey. “Please, Jacy. We’r
e both adults. Stop calling me Uncle Tobias. You make me feel like an old man.”

  “Wow,” I said in surprise. I had no idea Tobias felt that way. “If that’s what you want.”

  “I do,” he affirmed with a nod of his head.

  “Then that’s what you get. Us Alexanders aim to please.”

  He closed his eyes then for a second and took another breath. What was wrong with him?

  “You okay?”

  “Yes. It was a late night for me.”

  He dropped me off at eleven, so it wasn’t that late. Well, it was for me because my body was still on New York time. It felt like two in the morning to my jet-lagged self, but with my schedule, that’s almost normal.

  “Up late?” I asked and a blush came to his cheeks. Now I was getting worried. I marched over to the couch and laid my hand on his forehead.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “Checking to see if you have a fever.”

  He waved me off. “I’m fine.”

  When did Tobias get so touchy?

  “Have it your way,” I said. Tobias’s refusal annoyed me. It’s not like I’ve never touched the man. But then again I never wanted to lay my hands on him as I do right now.

  But maybe he’s picking up on your feelings for him.

  I brush the ridiculous stray thought out of mind. I’ve only ever shown Tobias familial affection.

  “Anyway, members of the team think and I agree that we should spin this incident as a publicity stunt gone wrong for an upcoming Battle of the Bands concert between Arcane, Obsidian, and Clash.”

  Tobias raised an eyebrow.

  “And just who is going to back this concert?”

  “The team is on it.”

  “You want to put three bands with animus toward each other on the same stage?” His voice carried disbelief, and I don’t blame him. When I first heard the idea, I wasn’t keen on it either. This proposition carried a high risk. All it took was one more scene like the other day, and whatever venue we hired would cancel out. And the insurance too. No one wants to back an event that carried a risk for violence.

  “Yes, and do promotional spots with each other.”

  Tobias’s face showed me just what he thought of the idea, which was not encouraging.

  “Ms. Alexander,” said my father’s secretary, Nadine, “Mr. Kane is here.”

  “How about Mr. Dys, and Mr. Holmes?” I asked

  “Not—sorry. They just got off the elevator.”

  “Show them in.”

  “Okay, Unc- I mean Tobias. Game face on. We’ve got a concert to sell.”

  I gave Tobias my best “this is business, no-nonsense” glance and he sat taller in his seat and put on his lawyer’s face. It was the expression that said, “I’m not going to tell you how serious it is so as not to scare you, but I think we are all fucked, so straighten up.” I smirked because Tobias and my father would try the same shit on me when I was a teen and acting up.

  There may have been a totaled car involved.

  Nadine opened the door, and the rockers swaggered in, and when I say strutted it was just that. They strolled in like rock gods, which they were, and their attitude showed it. Oh, they may dress in de rigueur designer jeans and tee shirts looking like ordinary schlubs, but they pranced as if they wore Armani instead of JCrew. Blond haired Cole walked in first and slid his sunglasses down his nose and stared at me.

  “Who are you? Where is Frank?” he grated with a voice filled with last night’s drinking binge.

  “That,” said Jersey Dys, “is the big man’s daughter.” He didn’t add the word “dick” at the end of his sentence, but it sounds like he could have. “Jacine,” he said smoothly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  He moved forward and gave me a very un-LA kiss on the cheek. It was a little too friendly and lingered too long. But the way his cologne slipped up my nose, and how he angled his hips toward me with the slightest touch of his hands on my hips made me want him to slide those lips toward mine.

  “It’s lovely to see you too, Jersey,” I said in my best ‘this is business’ voice.

  “Shot down!” said Cole too enthusiastically.

  “What are you, twelve?” said Rory as he found a place on the sofa.

  “Jack-ass,” snapped Cole.

  Rory scoffed.

  “Gentlemen,” I said. “This meeting is just about this kind of shit.”

  The cuss word shouldn’t have shocked them, but it did. In an instant, all three rock gods gave me their rapt attention.

  “And,” I continued, “the nonsense that happened the other night. Do you not realize how this affects your sales? How your fans reacted?”

  “Don’t you worry about our fans, Jacine,” said Cole dismissively. “They like to see a little dust-up.”

  “Do I have to remind you that if not for your lawyers, you’d be in jail right now?”

  “Jacine,” said Jersey, “last I looked you aren’t my mother.”

  “No, Jersey, I’m in charge of your PR.”

  “What about Mr. Alexander?” said Rory.

  “He’s in the hospital—from a heart attack—due to stress.”

  I gave these rockers my legendary death stare, and all shifted in their seats like the adult toddlers they were. Tobias watched the scene with amusement in his eyes.

  “You can’t—” started Cole.

  “Don’t go there,” said Rory. “She’s right. You know it. Shit got too deep.”

  “You’re right, Rory,” I said. “Take a look at this.”

  I picked up the remote sitting on the edge of my father’s desk and clicked on the collection of YouTubes and the twitter feed with the hashtag #rockerruckus. The team put together the worst of them to drive home a point. I had the video cued, and the sound pushed up high to grab their attention.

  “You fucking asshole,” screamed Cole. “Get the fuck out of this restaurant. I don’t want to see your ugly face while I’m trying to eat, you sick fuck.”

  “Fuck you!” yelled Jersey. “It’s a fucking public restaurant.”

  “Guys,” said Rory.

  “Shut up!” retorted Cole and Jersey in unison.

  “Leave him alone,” snorted Cole.

  “I don’t need your protection, Cole,” said Rory. He raised his hands and backed away.

  “Enough,” said Jersey. “I get the point.”

  “Do you?” I said. I wasn’t willing to stop my tutorial. I fast forward past the part where Cole chased Jersey through the restaurant with a raised chair, and when Rory convinced Cole to put it down, Jersey smashed him in the face. The twitter feed came up and some of the worst popped up in animation all under the hashtag #rockstarruckus

  Grow the fuck up!

  I can’t let my teen listen to you now.

  Do you kiss your mama with your potty mouth?

  On it went, displaying the overwhelming number of fans disgusted with the three grown men’s action.

  “We’ve got to get control of this,” I said.

  “Yeah, you can control it,” snapped Cole. “Get rid of these other two fuckers.”

  “You’re nuts,” said Jersey. “You’re the one that needs to go.”

  “Fuck that,” said Rory. “You two were the biggest asses.”

  “No,” I said firmly. “You don’t seem to understand. This problem now belongs to the three of you. You need to handle it together, or you’ll all be box office poison.”

  They all stared at me as if I asked them to climb the Matterhorn naked. But then Jersey nodded.

  “And what do you want us to do?” he said.

  “I have an idea, and my team is working on it right now. But I want to spin last night as a publicity stunt gone wrong for a battle of the bands concert and your bands are the featured players.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cole

  Boss lady is hot.

  Her blonde hair betray dark roots, but I like that look. So much better than the groupies with wild
colors like neon pink or goth purple. And her body is kicking, with shapely legs that go on forever and crowned with generous hips that make me drool. I’m a hip man, though I appreciate her slim waist and round breasts. She packaged all of this in a gray skintight sheath with elbow length sleeves and a short stand-up collar that cut in a “v” that barely reached her ample cleavage. The dress clings to every screaming curve like a race car navigating the Grand Prix that showcased her to be all woman beneath her business veneer. But call me kinky. Put that hair up into a bun and settle some thick black glasses on her nose and I could do the librarian all night long. There is something about uptight that coils my springs, and I can tell this lady needs to unwind—big time.

  I keep my jacket on my lap because big guy likes Ms.Uptight faster than my hungover brain registers. He’s ready to go, while my brain, in my half-hungover state, held my head upright out of spite. I still wore my sunglasses, because the light in the room was too bright, and the peppermint schnapps I used as a mouthwash didn’t do the job of cleansing the whiskey from my breath. My head pounded enough to make me cranky as fuck, and I was ready to throw a punch at Jersey Dys just on general principles. The only thing that held back my natural inclination to pound his smug pretty boy smile was my first observation.

  Boss lady was hot.

  Concentrating on her was job one.

  And I was not too hungover to recognize the depthless and utter shit we were all in from the fiasco at Angelo’s.

  My business manager called me this morning and quit. Something about not wanting to get sued because he had a fiduciary responsibility for the actions of any member of the band. I made a mental note to call the accountants to make sure that the asshole didn’t steal my money because that would be the first job of a business manager, as happens so often in this industry. But I realize I don’t have a clue about the state of the band finances and I had to get a handle on that. Maybe boss lady had a line on one or two reputable dudes that could take the business manager position. I made a mental note to hang back to ask her.

  Rory made a rude noise at boss lady’s suggestion that we hold a battle of the bands concert.

  “I don’t do anything without discussing it with band management.”