Hot Nights in Sturgis The Complete Series: A Billionaire, Bad Boy, Motorcycle, BDSM, Romance (Billionaire Romance Novels)

by Michelle Love

  As she drove away, I saw that she never even looked back.

  Two minutes. It couldn’t have been any longer than that. Two minutes from the time that she’d walked into the house and driven like a bat out of hell out of my life.

  Chapter Ten

  Lucas

  “It’s okay, baby,” Helen whispered. She ran her hands over my shoulders, and I quickly shrugged her off. I couldn’t even turn around to look at her.

  “You have thirty seconds to get the fuck off my property. If you come anywhere near me or Chrissy, you will not like the consequences.”

  “Lucas! What the hell has gotten into you? She’s nobody!”

  “And yet I would still choose her over you. Any time. Every time.”

  “If you deny me now, I will never tell you what I know. This isn’t some pissed off employee that you’re facing, Lucas. This person is out for blood, and they aren’t going to stop until they have it.”

  I felt numb. When her words finally penetrated me, I turned and stared at her. A smiled spread over her face when she thought that maybe I would give her what she wanted. “I would rather lose everything than give you anything that you want. Get. Out. Now.”

  I’d never seen Helen look uncertain, but her mouth opened slightly and her eyes widened. For a second, I thought she was going to argue, but she turned and ran from the house. I didn’t even bother to watch her get into her car. My only concern was Chrissy.

  Bolting for the house, I quickly snagged my phone and called her. It went straight to voicemail. “Chrissy, I need to explain. Call me.”

  To be on the safe side, I texted her as well.

  It’s not what you think. Call me. Text me. Now.

  No one denied me. Until now. I waited all night, but she didn’t call me back.

  First there was anger. She should have damn well trusted me. She should have at least stuck around so I could explain.

  I started on the bottle of scotch. Someone sent those pictures. Helen? She wouldn’t have dared. Helen was calculating and cruel, but she wasn’t an idiot. She would never have done something that could have easily been traced back to her.

  The mole. Helen was right. They weren’t just trying to destroy my reputation. They were out to ruin me.

  ***

  I didn’t know why I came back here. Club 9 was packed with bodies. I didn’t even bother to make my way to second floor where I could have had more privacy. I lifted the glass of whiskey to my lips and downed it.

  It was my fifth one of the night. My eyes moved over the people undulating on the floor, grinding their bodies on each other. They were so starved for attention. Many of them would go home with a stranger in hopes the lackluster sex would give them a little relief from the loneliness.

  I hadn’t seen Chrissy in a week. I desperately wanted to explain what she had seen. I wanted to explain that the photos in her hands were before I even met her. I wanted to make it right. Even if she didn’t come back to me, I needed her to at least not hate me.

  Tish just coldly informed me that Chrissy was working on her thesis some place private. I tried to get Torrence to search for her, but he’d told me to let it go.

  I nearly fired him over it.

  The week had felt like months in hell.

  And now it was over. It was probably for the best. I could focus on work.

  I could fuck whomever I wanted.

  As I signaled to the bartender that I wanted another drink, a tight body in a slinky red dress squeezed herself next to me. “Hi,” she said in a sultry voice.

  Deliberately, I cocked my head as my eyes roamed down her body. Nice perky tits. A full round ass. Cock-sucking cherry-red lipstick. Lustful eyes that told me everything I wanted to know.

  She’d let me take her home and do whatever I wanted.

  “Hi,” I muttered.

  “Buy a girl a drink?”

  “Do you really need a drink?”

  Her eyes widened in surprise before she laughed. “No one has ever asked me that before. You look like the kind of man I could spend a little time with completely sober.”

  “I’m not a happy man right now,” I said softly.

  “I don’t need you to be happy. I just need you to be hard.”

  It wasn’t enough to make me stir, but it was enough to grab my attention. The next glass of whiskey appeared in front of me, and I knocked it back while she watched. I didn’t say anything as I sat it on the counter.

  “So what do you say? Take a girl some place more private?”

  What did I say to that?

  The best way to get over one woman was with another. I had done nothing wrong to Chrissy. There was no reason I could enjoy the sexy and willing woman in front of me.

  Signaling to the bartender, I pointed to my empty glass and held up two fingers.

  “Does that mean you’re going to buy me a drink after all?” she said as she put a hand on my chest.

  “Nothing wrong with buying a gorgeous woman a drink,” I muttered.

  Nothing wrong at all.

  TO BE CONTINUED………

  Quartet #1 Fire for You

  By Michelle Love

  The note hung in the air, pure and clear. As it faded out, the singer drew in a deep breath then brought her hand down and the crowd leaped as one, moving with the swell of the beat, arms in the air, the sweltering heat of the auditorium pulsating through their limbs.

  He moved through the crowd, never taking his eyes from the beautiful brunette at the front of the stage. Despite her small size, the command she had over the audience, the presence was palpable. Their eyes met…and held. A shock passed through him, his breath caught, his groin tightened. Time stopped.

  As quickly as it happened, she looked away and he realized, that in this melee, in this beautiful old building, Seattle’s Paramount on the corner of Ninth and Pine, she could be looking at anyone. He watched as the band, the brunette, the blond guitarist who looked faintly familiar, the huge, bearded drummer who was grinning madly as he pounded the drums. They were all so different he thought, his gaze returning to the singer. Her dark hair tumbled down her back, strands sticking to the sheen of sweat on her lovely face, her smile joyous and infectious. There was a woman, he thought, who was doing the thing she loved the most, her reason for being, her passion.

  That was the moment Tomas Meir fell in love with Bay Tambe.

  It had been his idea, his dream, his vision. Nearing forty and bored as hell at his own successful law firm, Tomas Meir had woken night after night with the crushing feeling of disappointment in his own life, that somehow, it was all slipping away with nothing to show. Typical mid-life crisis, he’d tried to reason. After all, he was Harvard-educated, still only in his twenties when he’d started the entertainment law firm that had made him a billionaire before thirty. He knew where it had stemmed from, this feeling of dissatisfaction.

  It had been his thirty-fourth birthday and he’d gone to Boston. He’d gotten together with his three best friends, his buddies from Harvard: Sam Hamilton, marketing guru to the fashion industry and Otis and Roman Ford, twin geniuses from old money, superstar surgeon and businessman respectively.

  It had been a riot, a night of busting each other’s chops, catching up and reminiscing.

  It had only been later when they’d settled into Tom’s hotel lounge with heavy glasses of sour mash in their hands that Sam had told them.

  Cancer. Six months. Their hearts were broken.

  In the end, it was only four months, the cancer spreading through Sam’s previously athletic body like wildfire. At the funeral, Sam’s only living relative, his younger brother Dash, had pleaded with them to stay in touch – his only link to his family.

  They’d done more than that. When Tomas had the idea to start the record company, a seed that had been planted in their Harvard days when they would commandeer one of the music rooms and jam for hours when they should have been studying. They were obsessed with music – ate, slept, drank it every minute they
weren’t being primed for a life of law and medicine by their ambitious fathers.

  After Sam’s funeral, Tom stayed in Boston to talk to Dash. He told him that he and the Ford Brothers were starting a new venture together – a record company and they wanted Dash to join them. He’d barely gotten the words out before Dash said yes.

  Now, the fledgling company was competing with the big boys. Tom’s unerring eye for talent had secured him some of the best new acts around and for the last two years, he’d been so busy with them that he’d pushed his scouting to the backburner. It itched at him, though, the thrill of discovery. When his assistant, Meg, had mentioned a weekend in Seattle and seeing, as she had put it, ‘the most rocking covers band I’ve ever seen’, he couldn’t resist.

  Now as he filed out with rest of the audience into the cold Seattle night, his heart was pounding, his senses in overdrive. He knew without a doubt they were the ones; the band he would personally champion to superstardom. He had found them.

  He had found her…

  ***

  Bay stood under the shower in the dressing room, letting the hot water soothe and cleanse her tired body. She massaged shampoo into her long, dark hair, feeling the water glide through the wet strands. Friday nights at the Ninth & Pine club were never boring. The band’s reputation in Seattle now was such that people booked well in advance to see them. Bay shook her head, smiling. She couldn’t get over it – they were just a local covers band, for chrissakes, but their gigs, every second Friday after midnight, were always packed.

  Bay stepped out of the shower and quickly dried and dressed. A loud rapping and her best friend Kym, the band’s guitarist, stuck her head around the door.

  ‘Stu says the guy’s waiting for us in the bar.’

  ‘I’ll be two minutes.’

  ‘Cool.’ Kym’s head disappeared. Bay sighed. She hated anything to do with Stu Lawson, Kym’s long-term English boyfriend. Oily, smarmy creep. Bay grinned to herself. Whoever this latest guy was that Stu wanted them to meet – to further the band’s success, he’d put it – was bound to be another low rent shyster looking to exploit them. Bay dried her hair quickly, pulling it into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, then smoothed her tea dress down over her curves. She glanced at the clock – it was after two a.m. now and she would meet this guy then head home. The store would have to be opened at eight – she calculated she would have about four hours sleep maximum and the thought made her faintly nauseous.

  She pulled the dressing room door shut behind her and made her way slowly to the bar. Pete, the big bear heart of their band, met her halfway, throwing a huge arm across her shoulders. He had about the same regard for Stu as she did and they exchanged a loaded grin now as they walked into the bar. Stu was standing at the bar, his back turned as he chatted to the record company guy. Bay felt a little flip in her stomach as she realized who it was. The guy from the crowd. She’d seen him before, at their last two gigs, – she could hardly miss him, he was so tall he towered over the rest of the crowd – but tonight, as she’d sung the final notes of the song, their eyes had met and she’d felt it…everywhere. A sledgehammer to her chest, a frantic pulse between her legs. She took a deep breath in now as they approached the men and they turned to greet them. Stu made the introductions but she barely heard him except for the guy’s name – Tomas. Tom smiled down at her, his green eyes intense, focused entirely on hers. He didn’t rake his eyes up and down her body in that sleazy way Stu always did but kept his eyes locked on hers. It was incredibly sensual and Bay could imagine him leaning in, pressing those cool lips to hers and…

  ‘Hey, space cadet.’ Kym nudged her and Bay blinked. ‘Let’s grab a table.’

  As they made their way to one of the booths, she heard Stu remark. ‘Sorry about that,’ he said to Tomas, ‘...it’s her artistic temperament.’

  Turning to shoot him a death stare, Bay flushed at Stu’s rudeness and Tomas’s eyes narrowed at Stu before he smiled down at Bay. ‘Nothing to apologize for. I’m always daydreaming – best way to filter out the crap some people talk.’

  Bay snorted with laughter and Tomas grinned at her. They all sat down in one of the booths and Bay couldn’t help the little thrill passing through her at Tomas deliberately putting himself between her and Stu. Sitting so closely together, she could feel the heat of his body, his big thigh against hers in the cramped table. God, she wanted to touch it, wanted him to touch her. She’d been exhausted after the gig but now every cell in her body was alive, sparking with excitement and arousal.

  Tomas began to talk about his project and suddenly she was interested; he wanted to champion the band into a major recording deal.

  ‘The fact your gigs are always packed has gotten a lot of buzz in the industry,’ he told them, ‘nowadays when the recording industry is flooded with manufactured, plasticized bands or whiny little mean girls’ – Bay had to laugh at that one, Pete grinned too, ‘what we’re looking for is to develop a band whose innate talent is…well, I’m not going to say wasted, not after that incredible gig, but whose talent could be developed into something quite extraordinary and lucrative. I don’t see why there can’t be both music of real quality and genuine talent to go along with record sales.’

  Bay was impressed and she looked over to Kym and Pete who both looked excited.

  ‘And you think we’re the band to do that with?’ Pete asked Tomas, who nodded.

  ‘Absolutely. If one gig can have that effect on me…’ He looked back at Bay now, and a smile creased his handsome face. She felt her stomach do that flippy thing again and pressed her hand against it to quell the sensation.

  ‘What label are you with?’ She felt like she was gibbering, so distracting was this man. Before he could answer, Stu cursed loudly.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Bay, do you have to be so clueless? Tom is Quartet Records.’

  Tom narrowed his eyes at Stu. ‘Watch your mouth, Lawson. Remind me again what it is you do?’ As he came to her defense, a squirming Bay felt his hand close over hers, hidden by the table. He held it for a brief second – I got your back – then let it go. Her skin burned where he touched her and she smiled at him gratefully.

  ‘I’m the band’s manager,’ Stu said in a mock-patient voice. ‘I brought you in, remember?’

  Tom’s answering smile was cool. ‘Vividly.’

  Bay choked on her drink and Pete snorted with laughter. Kym grinned then shot a look at her boyfriend’s tight face and smoothed it out, but not before shooting an apologetic look at Bay. She was used to refereeing Bay and Stu’s antagonistic relationship. Not for the first time, Bay wondered what she saw in the idiot. She turned back to Tom.

  ‘So, when you say development?’

  ‘I mean you writing original songs for the band – have you considered that before? I understood from Stuart that you’ve discussed it.’

  Bay smiled at Kym, who nodded. ‘Life got in the way.’

  ‘You all have full-time jobs then?’

  For the next few minutes, as Kym and Pete talked about their jobs – record store clerk and kindergarten teacher respectively – Bay had a chance to study Tomas Meir. Dark, close-cropped curls, a finely angled face with an aquiline nose, full, sensual mouth. Thick dark lashes framed those intensely green eyes and it was all she could do not run brush her fingers across them. God, he was…she was casting around for the right word when he turned that gaze back to her and the word came to her. Glorious.

  ‘And what about you, Bay?’

  The way he said her name made her toes curl with desire and she had to take a beat before she answered him.

  ‘I run my uncle’s motorcycle franchise.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘Well, that was unexpected.’

  She laughed then. ‘I say run it…I’m having to sell the business.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  She shook her head, picking up her beer. ‘Don’t be. It’s kind of a relief if I’m honest. I know nothing about bikes or anything to do with the moto
r industry, period. I just helped out when my uncle got too sick to run it.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Is he still with you?’

  She shook her head, surprised with herself. She never talked about her family. Never. What was it about this man that made her want to tell him everything? ‘No, he died last year.’

  ‘Any other family here in Seattle?’

  She swallowed the overwhelming sadness within her. ‘No. Not anymore.’ The others were talking amongst themselves and suddenly she was aware the conversation between her and Tomas had taken on an intimate atmosphere. He smiled at her, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

  ‘So,’ he said gently, ‘maybe we can work something out to fill your days. Kym tells me you’re the songwriting genius in the band. I’d like to take you into the studio and see what happens.’

  Bay’s mouth jerked up in a smile. Why did that sound so dirty in her mind? Tomas must have realized what he’d said because two spots of pink appeared at the top of his cheekbones. The effect was strange on such a confident man yet it made Bay warm to him even more.

  ‘Well,’ she said, sticking her tongue in her cheek, ‘wouldn’t that be…interesting?’

  There was a short silence then they both burst out laughing. It broke the tension and Bay felt herself relaxing in his company.

  ‘What are you two talking about? If it’s something to do with the band…’ Stu’s voice was whiny, plaintiff and Bay felt a flash of annoyance. Tomas shot Stu a withering look.

  ‘Don’t worry, Lawson, nothing to do with money. We were just discussing writing some songs.’

  Kym leaned over, looking excited. ‘So you’ll do it?’ She beamed at Bay and Bay couldn’t help nodding and smiling at her best friend.

  ‘For you, anything,’ she said and Kym squealed in delight. Pete, who hadn’t missed the chemistry between Bay and Tomas, squeezed Bay’s hand.