Time to hold up his end of the bargain and give her the kind of performances she needed from him in order to further his career. He cut the engine, ready to go in the club, but Alyssa leaned across and flicked the key forward to the accessory function and clicked on the radio again.
He rechecked his watch. “It’s almost eleven o’clock. I should really get inside.”
Alyssa shook her head. “You might not be able to play prima donna with me, but it’s a good idea to turn on the celebrity behavior for Fast Mike.”
“You know the owner?” He’d never gotten a good read on Mike Kinecki, the guy who ran Planet Soul.
“I own the owner.” She tilted her chin and drawled the words in Marlene Dietrich style. “And I guarantee he’ll respect you more if you waltz in there late. I already told him you’re the next big thing, and I think he’ll fall all over himself tonight to book you for the next month in the prime-time slot.”
Brett’s spirits would have lifted considerably if he hadn’t suddenly pictured Alyssa flirting with Fast Mike. The guy was twice her age.
“Do you have something going on with Mike Kinecki?” He hadn’t planned to pry, but he realized he really hated the idea. Alyssa’s business methods might confound him, but he couldn’t deny the attraction.
Whereas her unorthodox ways chaffed his hide professionally, her free-spirit willingness to try anything sparked an automatic male reaction. Alyssa was pure fantasy.
“Bite your tongue.” She frowned at him, her shiny lips plumped into an enticing pout. “I just know how to play him. You understand your guitar, I understand club managers. And this guy is impressed by star quality. Haven’t you ever heard the old adage, ‘fake it till you make it’?”
“That’s not me.” Since when did you score points with your boss by not showing up at work on time? He would have been booted on his ass ten times over if he’d pulled that crap when he worked as a financial analyst. “I’m not much for playing games.”
“Then let me play them for you. This business is all about games.”
“I don’t know.” He’d seen that to a certain extent over the last year and half, but he’d always told himself he wouldn’t go that route.
“Well I do.” She leaned close to make her point, her body looming near in the confines of the car. “Trust me.”
She probably hadn’t meant the move as a come-on. Hell, he knew damn well she hadn’t because she looked just as surprised as he felt when the heat ratcheted up a few degrees in the intimate space.
And as she lingered there, suspended in her surprise, Brett realized she knew all about the chemistry between them that she’d denied two nights ago. Feminine awareness lit her dark eyes from within in the scant moment before her gaze fell to his mouth.
If there had been any other tune in the world on his car radio, Brett might have stood a chance at pulling away. But as the strains of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” filled the vehicle, the music seemed to weave around them and draw them closer still.
Or maybe that was just his long-denied libido roaring for a taste of this woman’s bubble gum-scented lips.
Either way, he couldn’t help taking just one lick.
CHAPTER THREE
RETREAT.
Retreat!
Alyssa’s common sense screamed the warning in an all-points bulletin to her body. But her fingers weren’t listening as they feathered a touch across Brett’s sculpted jaw. And her legs sure weren’t paying attention since they failed to move so much as an inch away from Brett’s thigh.
And bless my soul, but her lips seemed to lead the charge in the other direction since her mouth wasn’t having any part of a retreat. They parted on contact as this delicious man she barely knew kissed her.
So much for being a professional. Alyssa clicked off the annoying voice of her conscience and allowed herself to enjoy just this one kiss. She was only representing the guy for a little while anyhow. Did it matter if she broke her own rules about manager-client relations?
Besides, she didn’t remember kissing being such an all-consuming experience. Sure it had been a long time for her, but could her memory be failing that badly?
Twining her fingers through Brett’s hair, she pulled him closer for a more thorough taste. Just to jog her memory, of course.
His tongue slid over hers in sensuous rhythm like a man accustomed to making music with every part of his body. Alyssa had never been able to carry a note, but that didn’t staunch her sudden urge to start singing.
Moreover, if the man was this adept with his tongue…
She shivered alongside him at the thought, realizing he hadn’t even touched her yet. All that sensual want from just the stroke of his lips over hers, the dance of his tongue in her mouth.
There was no telling what might have happened next if the deejay hadn’t interrupted Elvis’s tune with an overenthusiastic segue into the news and weather. But she knew one thing for sure. In all her thirty-two years, she’d never been kissed that way.
“Bad idea.” She figured she’d say it before he did. And no matter that her hormones were now firing through her with a fresh sense of purpose, she still recognized kissing him had been a mistake. “I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m not.” His voice drifted around her as he switched off the car radio. “I told you we had chemistry.”
“I thought you said that was work-related.”
“I think good chemistry works on a lot of levels if you let it.” He covered her hand with his and Alyssa panicked.
If he started touching her, she might forget every smart intention she’d ever possessed. She’d been majorly attracted to him six months ago. Now it seemed that fascination hadn’t gone away. It had simply slid over to a backburner and simmered.
“So what do you think?” His thumb skimmed over her palm. “Should we let it?”
“No.” She snatched her hand back before she fell victim to her sex-deprived senses again. “Definitely not. If we have an award to win we need to spend our time focusing on achieving the goal instead of seeing how fast we can fog up the windows, right?”
She reached for the car door handle, ready to bail.
“You ought to know musicians don’t separate work and pleasure like that. Sex and rock ’n’ roll go hand in hand.”
His expression remained so serious she couldn’t tell if he was joking.
“Are you messing with me?”
“Hell no.” Slowly, a grin crawled over his face. “But keep in mind that I’d like to.”
Muttering under her breath, Alyssa threw the door open and welcomed the still heat of the dry air after the sultry confines of Brett’s Cadillac had scrambled her brains. She needed to think about steamrolling over Fast Mike with attitude, not steaming up the car windows. And to do that, she needed to adjust her mindset. If she wanted the rest of the world to believe Brett Neale was all that, she had to believe it first.
Casting her glance backward toward the car, she saw him haul his guitar case out of the backseat before sauntering over to join her.
“Are we late enough by now?” He steered them around to the propped stage door exit in the back.
Planet Soul was a Las Vegas institution for live music. While it lacked the glitz of the casinos and their floor shows, the club had no parallel for great stage acts, a kicking sound system and the best margaritas in town.
Before they reached the steps of the unadorned private entrance, a burly doorman shouldered his way through, doling out a grin for Brett.
“Hey man, you’re late,” he shouted over the muted roar of the crowd filtering through the back door along with a dim blue glow.
“You’re right on time,” Alyssa assured Brett, winking at the doorman as she sailed past him like she owned the place. She’d learned a long time ago the key to quick access was to never doubt you belonged at the hot spot in question.
Anticipation bubbled through her as the familiar buzz of nightlife kicked up all around her. The dark hallway was
technically a backstage area but that didn’t prevent plenty of club goers from filling the narrow passage. A hum of excitement ignited the crowd as Brett entered the building behind her. Definitely a good indication of his popularity.
Although if the trampy twosome in matching “Ready” and “Willing” tank tops thought they were going to get their manicured claws on Brett, Alyssa would send them and their thong-bearing hot pants back to their tables.
Alyssa allowed the old familiar sounds and smells of a juke joint to sink in while she watched the club’s owner pace outside his dinky office a yard away.
When he realized his talent had arrived, Fast Mike, a sweet-natured Mexican-American who couldn’t have stood more than five foot six, greeted her with open arms.
“Hola, chica!” He unleashed a torrent of Spanish that Alyssa couldn’t understand. Just because she’d apparently been born in Tijuana didn’t mean she spoke the language. But Mike never remembered this until he’d rattled on for a few minutes, finally slowing down long enough to switch to English.
“You’re representing this guy?” He looked Brett over with a critical eye before slowly nodding his head. “The girls seem to like him, eh?”
“He’s going straight to the top,” Alyssa confided with the practiced tone of a trader giving an inside tip. “I’d be surprised if he’s in town much longer.”
Mike’s eyes widened predictably before his gaze flew back to Brett. “You’ll play here exclusively this week, eh? You do the eleven o’clock sets and we’ll put you out on the marquee. Maybe do some ads?”
“Sounds good,” Brett agreed before Alyssa elbowed him discreetly.
“We’ll see,” she supplied evenly, unwilling to get locked into Mike’s club for too long. With any luck, Brett would be on his way to L.A. after the Elvis Legacy. “You can put him in through next Friday and then I’ll get back to you about any further gigs.”
While Mike nodded and looked worried, Alyssa turned to Brett. The Ready and Willing chicks were giggling and sidling close to Brett but not touching him. Damn lucky for them.
“You ready to go on, Brett?” She couldn’t wait to see this man’s live performance for herself. If he could sing anywhere near as well as he could kiss, they were all in for a treat.
He edged past the groupies with a smile and then nudged Alyssa down the hall with a guiding hand at her waist.
“Hell yeah, I’m ready. You remember what I told you. My work is always a pleasure.”
AND SO WAS SEX.
Brett wondered if Alyssa remembered that part of their conversation later that night as he finished up his set. She’d watched most of his performance from a back corner table and even now he’d lost sight of her in the crowd, he sensed she was still out there. Watching him.
The woman sizzled.
He’d known it from the moment they’d met, but back then she’d been more distant. Unattainable.
Tonight it was like something inside her clicked and she had left behind that remote inaccessibility, morphing into a vital woman brimming over with life. Could it be the music? The reconnection with the profession she’d ditched out of worry for her sister?
She was definitely in her element here. Brett’s eyes found her in the crowd as he ended one number and geared up for his last. He liked to finish his sets with an update of the Elvis standard “Too Much.” The tune contained a raw sexual energy that transcended any performance style. Brett’s version wasn’t all that different from the original, allowing plenty of guitar to rev the lyrics.
Alyssa wouldn’t want to miss this one. As a die-hard Elvis fan, she’d appreciate the nuances of Brett’s cover of the song. He met her gaze across the dim, smoky bar as his fingers danced over the chords of the opening riff. Her hand wrapped around the bottled water given to her by a passing waitress, Alyssa edged closer to the stage, body swaying to the music as she moved.
Men’s eyes followed her as she wove through the crowd but her gaze never left Brett’s. She settled into a spot at the edge of the dance floor in front of the stage, hips swiveling in perfect time to the twang of bluesy rock. His fingers stroked the chords deftly, hands moving easily over the instrument that inspired such an appealing sway to Alyssa’s curves.
He sang to her. Played for her. Ate up her undivided attention. When he got to the line “I like to hear you sighin’ even though I know you’re lyin’,” her lips curved in a sexy smile. He couldn’t wait for his set to be over so they could take up where they left off with that kiss.
She might regret the personal connection in a professional relationship, but he didn’t. He knew he was delivering his best-ever rendition of “Too Much” and it had everything to do with watching her obvious pleasure in his music, from her shimmying shoulders to the seductive roll of her hips.
If he could unleash that kind of heat with a song, just imagine what he could do with his hands on her instead of on his guitar. The possibilities titillated.
Alyssa Renato might be a little too wild with her penchant for séances and her unconventional approach to business, but how could he complain when she was his ticket to success? She intrigued him in a way no other woman ever had. And damned if she didn’t inspire the best performance of his life.
Tomorrow he’d figure out a way to convince her to back off the public conjuring display at the Elvis Legacy competition. For tonight, he only wanted to act on the heat between them because he had no intention of letting Alyssa go home alone.
ALYSSA WAS still mesmerized by Brett’s performance an hour later as he drove her home. The city lights glowed in all their glitzy glory, the Strip humming with activity even at 2:00 a.m.
There’d always been an awe-factor when it came to her clients since, first and foremost, she counted herself as a music fan. If anything, her proximity to the music-making business made her all the more susceptible to a great act. She knew better than most people how much hard work and raw talent went into a kick-butt delivery.
And Brett’s had been…transporting. She’d never forget that magical moment watching him on stage. She’d felt as breathless as a starstruck teenager, as giddy as those fans in Elvis’s heyday who’d fainted at his shows.
Add to that a heady dose of a mature woman’s sexual appetite and zing! she’d been electrified.
“You haven’t said much about the performance.” Brett’s words recalled her from such intimate thoughts.
She was still a professional, damn it. Surely she could pull her starry gaze back to earth for a few minutes. Every artist deserved honest feedback and a certain amount of ego stroking. She knew how difficult it could be to put yourself on the line night after night in front of fickle crowds who may not appreciate what you were trying to accomplish.
“You’ve got a dynamite voice and a killer stage presence that you’re marketing all wrong.” She’d learned the best way to deliver criticism was to front load it with compliments. The positive words helped take the sting out of the need for improvement. And bottom line, she knew Brett was willing to make any necessary changes.
“What marketing?” He frowned, apparently un-swayed by her praise. “Isn’t that your job now?”
“I mean your packaging.” Her gaze slid down to his jeans which reminded her that his package was actually quite admirable. Flustered, she forced her eyes back to the road. “I mean your material isn’t showcasing your strengths as well as it could. I think we need to revise the playlist.”
His side of the car remained quiet for so long she finally turned to peer over at him.
“Do you have a problem with that?” She gathered up her bags as they turned down her street. “I have to say I’m a little surprised at your resistance to my methods considering how much you lobbied for me to take you on.”
She kept the words light, but she hadn’t forgotten the sting of his disapproval over the public séance. How could they form a solid working relationship if he thwarted her at every turn?
He pulled the car up to her building in the quiet str
eet. Not many people chose to live over the small shops in a neighborhood still given to occasional crime, but Alyssa had simply installed bars over the downstairs windows and made herself at home. She liked the morning commute of one flight of stairs.
“I’m not resistant.” He switched off the car engine and took her bags out of her hand. “In fact, I’m very open to discussion. Maybe I could come up for a few minutes to talk about the playlist?”
“It’s almost 2:00 a.m.” She couldn’t let Brett set foot in her lonely apartment. She’d been kicking herself for kissing him all evening, so it only made sense that she’d really regret sleeping with him.
“That’s when I think best.” Before she could argue, he slid out of the car to open her door, appearing on her other side to offer his hand to help her. “Come on Alyssa, I’m still keyed up from being on stage. I won’t sleep until I at least understand where you’re coming from about the playlist. Can’t we talk through your ideas for changing the music?”
Of course they could talk. If she was sure that’s all they would do, Alyssa would have no problem inviting him in to go over his set. It was the undercurrent of sex that concerned her.
She had to admit to being a little keyed up herself.
Finally, she took his hand and stepped out of the car.
“Okay. But no kissing.” She should be able to restrain herself as long as they had that much clear before they went upstairs. “Is that a deal?”
She dug through her guitar purse for her keys while he seemed to consider the proposition.
“Fine. I promise not to instigate any kissing.” He shoved open the door as soon as she unlocked it, holding it for her while she went ahead and switched on a light in the store.
Did he think she would be instigating the kissing? She knew better than that, damn it. Even if Brett happened to be a world-class kisser.
The perpetual scents of cinnamon candles and vanilla incense floated around them as they picked their way through the crowded memorabilia shop toward the back room that led to her apartment upstairs.
Love So Tender: Taking Care of BusinessPlay It Again, ElvisGood Luck Charm Page 18