“I’m serious.”
He chuckled. “So am I.”
She let out a deep breath as if relieved by his response. But honesty was the best policy, at least that was what his mother told them as children.
“But you do know I plan to woo you every chance I get. After hours, of course.”
“Of course.” The slight quiver of her lips made him think she was fighting to hold back her beautiful smile. So stingy. He’d have to add that to his list as well. Make her smile as often as humanly possible.
She dropped her head briefly, and when she glanced back up her eyes held a sparkle. “Mr. Carter, you do know that wooing is old fashion?”
“Nonsense.” He slid to the right in his seat to position himself directly in front of her. “And never, ever, let my father hear you say that.” He laughed.
“Why not?” She closed the space between them, leaning closer, he could smell her caramel breath.
“My father is the king of old fashion when it comes to men and women. He taught his sons to wine and dine. Open doors. Slay dragons. The works.” He reached for her hands, delighted that she didn’t pull away.
“Slay dragons?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Her smile made heat flow through his veins.
“What if I’m not the wooing type?” Her gaze sobered, her smile tentative.
“All women are the wooing type. However, there are varying styles of wooing I suppose.” He tilted his head back as if in deep thought. “There’s the average every day Joe.”
“Which is not you, of course?”
“Of course.” The twinkle in her eyes returned.
“There’s the amateur. The deadbeat. The opportunist.”
“So many to choose from.” He laughed at her dry tone sounding less than enthusiastic. “What if it’s not him but her?”
“I see where that could be a problem. I believe it boils down to the people. And with the proper pursuit and the right people, magic can happen.”
Her eyes probed his in an unwavering fashion. This was the look he wrote about. It was the essence of every romantic melody he sang and little did Brione know she was deepening his resolve to make her his.
“Magic? More of your dragon slaying ways?”
“Something like that.” He winked. “I can show you better than I can tell you.” He took a drink of his water. They’d sat through the breakfast and lunch crowds. He’d had more coffee than he needed. She had a sweet tea with her sandwich, and he had water with his. Now, he needed the water to cool his raging hormones as she dropped her head, no doubt, considering his words.
Brione was the thinking type. Thinkers were never his type, he was more of the go-with-the-flow type of man until now. The wrinkle between her eyebrows, the way she nibbled on the inside of her mouth, the way she took her time to decide. All of them poked pencil-size holes in his plans to remain single. Her quick wit and quiet yet sexy charm intrigued him. They sat in silence as the cafe stirred around them.
“What if I come with baggage?”
“We all do.”
“We do?” she questioned, he nodded.
“Some more than others.” Regardless of popular belief, money wasn’t the solution to life’s problems. He’d have a lush existence, but heartbreak visited everyone eventually. Her solemn expression made him want to banish the thoughts in her mind. His team could handle a tour like this in-house. However, he wanted her. And he’d pay the entire fee from his personal bank account to travel on a tour bus with her. His chest tightened at seeing the clouds stirring in her beautiful eyes. He folded her cold hands into his. Say yes, he chanted inside.
“Can you give me a few days to consider your offer?” Her back stiffened.
“Which part?” The contract and him.
“Everything.”
“How much time do you need? We’ll need to move on this concert idea asap.” Rushing was probably not the best way to get what he wanted. But her hesitancy only made him more urgent. Ready to board the bus and get to know the woman behind the lists and the dress pants. He wanted to learn about her dragons and hear her beg for more of his kisses.
“I’ll call you in a few days.”
Marques dropped his head for a brief moment, he stated his request. It was now left to Brione to decide whether to accept or decline. The last time he felt an attraction this strong it ended with his life in utter turmoil, estranged from his family and without a record deal. He lost everything. Maybe they both needed time to consider whether this was a wise idea. “I’m flying out tonight, I’ll be back Friday. Let’s get together then.”
Chapter Twelve
Brione paced the length of her living room. The carpet beneath her feet felt thinner after her constant pacing since leaving the cafe Sunday. She gave Marques her number. They planned to meet at her place on Friday. It was now Thursday. She was no closer to having an answer. In theory, one hundred and fifty thousand dollars was the equivalent of winning the lottery. He could have shocked her no less if he gave her a million dollar check.
“One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” The sound echoed off the walls, sounding as fictitious as it did Sunday. Naturally, she wanted to call Eliana but not until she was closer to a decision.
Brione dropped to the couch and opened her notebook. Tired of fighting her natural train of thought she did like always, she’d talk it out with herself. She stood and walked to the fireplace as if standing before a judge. As a moot court competitor, she learned to present her case well. Every law case she studied for competition and class groomed her for this moment as if she was preparing for the hardest fight of her life.
Stewart and his parents thought she was incapable of caring for Kayla on her own and they told her if she went to court they’d make sure she never saw her daughter again. Brione gripped the pen as if it held the answers to their future.
“Think Bri. Think. You can do this.” She took several deep breaths. Law school taught her to think laps around most people. She had to start trusting herself. What were Stewart’s arguments against her keeping Kayla?
That was easy. Lack of space. Lack of time. Lack of finances. The list was much longer, but these were their repeated concerns. Andrew, or Marques, and her contract with RSE presented an opportunity to defend herself against each of them. Kayla had her own room upstairs. Brione had the summer off if she moved her clerkship following her time traveling with Marques and the contract would cover more than their expenses for the summer.
That was it. Was it truly possible that Brione could get Kayla for a while this summer? Why not? She could show Stewart and the Bradleys their doubts were unfounded. Then maybe it could serve as evidence to a judge that she should have joint custody.
Brione crossed the room and sat in front of her laptop. She started typing her words to make the request of Stewart. Writing helped her formulate her thoughts. She typed for several paragraphs with bullet points to keep from forgetting the most important parts.
What if he said no? Brione shook her head. Kayla needed her as much as she needed them.
She went back to working on her argument taking slight pauses to check the time. Joy bubbled beneath the surface. They always gave one excuse or another for why she couldn’t keep her. But they had no reason this time, no reason to keep her from her baby.
But she'd have to keep the RSE contract to herself. How would she explain the money? Her parents?
They failed her time and time again, maybe this time she’d get some support. She only needed them to cover for her. She reached for her cellphone and dialed her mother.
Jeffrey and Kathy Allen were Texas elite in the public’s eyes. Behind closed doors, they lived a life based on a billion well-told secrets neatly stacked like a Jenga tower. All to keep his pristine political career intact and she was part of the facade until her junior year in college. The moment his secrets trapped her in their unstable structure of lies and deceit.
The phone rang twice. “Brione?”
“Hell
o, mother.”
“Sweetheart it is wonderful to hear your voice. How are you? How’s school?”
“I’m good. School is fine too. I’m out for summer break.”
“As always, I’m sure you did well.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Silence lingered. “Mother, I…” Brione took a deep breath. “I want to ask the Bradleys if I can keep Kayla for the second half of the summer.” She gripped the phone tighter at hearing the sharp intake of her mother’s breath.
“You have to talk to your father about this.”
“You know he won’t help me.” She started pacing again. “Mom, please—"
“Honey, I can’t.”
“You can’t? No mother, correction, you won’t.” She stopped and faced the window. The beauty of the sunset meant nothing to her. Her days came and went with the same conclusion. She was alone. Her family turned on her, and she could trust no one. No one would help her.
“That’s what I get for thinking you’d somehow developed a backbone.”
“I’m still your mother.” The indignation in her voice was laughable.
“Really mother? When did this begin? Tell me, mommie dearest how do you sleep at night? How do you look at yourself in the mirror in your fancy clothes, fancy cars knowing you sold your daughter and granddaughter to satan’s spawn.” Brione pressed “End” with enough force to break the phone in half.
She screamed from the pit of her soul. What did she think would happen? Wishful thinking? Hope maybe. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She could only count on herself.
Brione would have to call back and apologize if she wanted her mother to cover for her. Just in case the Bradleys asked about the money.
The phone rang, she glanced at the display. Her good sense said to ignore it. Instead, she answered.
“Hello.”
“Hey, beautiful.” The sound of his voice relieved the tension in her chest.
"Hey, boss." Brione smiled, adding emphasis to boss.
“Urgh, you know how to sucker punch a brotha.”
Brione folded over on the couch laughing at the wounded sound in his voice until tears filled her eyes. “That was kind of a low blow. My bad.”
“Punch away if it will keep a smile on your beautiful face.”
She sat up. “How do you know I’m smiling?”
“Your voice gorgeous.” She could hear the smile in his voice too.
“Is this part of your world-class wooing you told me about?”
“I can’t divulge all of my secrets, but this is a little somethin’ somethin’.” He laughed. “And no more boss talk. I prefer Your Royal Highness. Or let me see…Prince Carter…”
Her laughter returned with a vengeance as he ran down a hefty list of all of the name alternatives.
“Oh, Your Royal Highness Prince Carter Southern Kingship—”
“Bri you’re going to do me like that?” His voice rose with humor, spraying gasoline on her funny fire.
“You are laying it on super thick.” She covered her mouth to hide the slight hiccups to catch her breath.
“Okay, maybe a little. I’m actually quite fond of the latest name for me, the Prince of R&B.”
“And feed into your obviously inflated ego, no sir.”
“I have more to choose from.”
“I bet you do.”
They laughed, and she settled back into the couch.
“Are you better?” Marques asked in a sober tone.
“Yes, thank you.” Very astute, not something Brione expected. Charming, yes. Concerned, not really. “So, to what do I owe this honor Your Royalness?”
“I just thought I’d spread my presence around and it landed me on your doorstep.”
“My what?” She shot up.
“I’m on your doorstep.” His voice dropped, and so did her heart. It lingered somewhere around the soles of her feet.
“Uninvited?”
“What do you expect? I am a prince.” As if that was enough. “May I come inside?”
Brione stood and walked to the front door. She looked at herself in the mirror across the room. She looked a mess. She used her free hand to smooth her hair down, but one section kept popping back up. She groaned.
“Please.”
She used her index finger and thumb to peek through the blinds and his eyes locked with hers. “Will you behave?”
“Do I have to?”
She dropped her head and chuckled. “Will you ever say what I expect?”
“Probably not.” A slow smile fully male, fully him, spread across his face causing her flesh to crawl with electricity. She flicked the blinds closed and disconnected the call at the rumble of his laughter through the phone and on the other side of the door. She slowly turned the bolt lock and opened the door.
Marques stood on her doorstep in a shirt and well-worn jeans. Not the man from the concert or the man she saw Sunday but Andrew. The man she met in Coffee Confessions minus the baseball cap, his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked unassuming, like the guy next door. But she’d seen his show. His secret was out. She’d been in his red chair, and a piece of her wanted to do it again. The part she had to suppress if she planned to get Kayla this summer.
Brione gestured toward the couch. Marques crossed the threshold, the scent of his cologne filled her nose. A hybrid of forbidden, irresistible, and temptation, and for the second time a pep talk surfaced in the recesses of her mind.
Stick to the plan. Marques spun on his heels approaching the couch with a boyish grin.
“Don’t give me that look.” She pointed at his handsome face.
“What?” He threw his hands up as if surprised.
“Don’t what me.” She shook her head. “Please have a seat and make yourself at home.”
He sat on the couch, she sat adjacent to him in the chair. She pushed into the hard surface with her bottom, it had no bounce back. She hardly sat in it, and it showed. The firm surface lacked the lived in softness of the couch.
The couch was her favorite spot. She read there. She studied there. The imprint of her body molded into its cushions. It was one of the two pieces of furniture she replaced when she moved in. The couch and her bed.
“Join me,” Temptation said patting the spot next to him.
Brione stood and took three steps ending beside Marques. Suddenly the woes of her day disappeared, and the temperature in her house increased along with her heart rate. She dropped to the couch, remembering the section of unruly hair, she smoothed a hand over it once more to his amusement.
“You look beautiful.”
“Lies!”
“That patch of hair standing up makes you look adorable.” He chuckled reaching to help her. She smacked his hand away.
“Your Royalness, does one of your titles include being a gentleman?” She dropped her hands to her lap and searched his heated gaze.
“Always with you.” His eyes caressed her without moving. Heat traveled from her face down her neck through her torso and settled in a pool of lava in the pit of her stomach.
“Would you like water?”
He shook his head.
“Sweet tea?”
He shook it again. “Just you.”
Marques gripped the back of her neck and pulled her close. The warmth of his mouth covered hers and a fire ignited. His full lips teased and nibbled, she leaned closer resting a hand on his chest. A soft moan escaped, he deepened the kiss before pulling away, taking his warmth with him.
“Thank you, princess.” He moved a few inches away. “I promised we’d go slow, but I had to get that one out of the way.”
Brione nodded. Her head spinning, her inner voice lobbying for a repeat.
“I came to hear your decision about handling the tour. My team is thrilled with what I told them.”
She smiled. “Really?”
“Really. I even have a list here somewhere.” Marques started searching his pockets. He pulled out a folded sheet of paper and pointed to the card s
tapled to the corner. “That’s our marketing director Devin Moore.”
Brione stared at the paper unable to read the words written on the page. He somehow managed to kiss her senseless then shift right to business. Her lack of experience with men made it difficult to move past the way his lips felt against hers. She blinked a few times. She had to get it together. Scanning the document she saw three columns with the dates in the first, cities in the second, and the last listed a tentative location.
“Wow. That was fast.” She sat back and flipped through the notes.
“I told you they’d love it. They're leaving the rest to you. Devin included the venue contacts and the details for Cameron.”
This was a huge help. “I’m confused. Why do you need me?” She lowered the page.
“It was your idea, and essentially you'll be the liaison between the road and the label. RSE is a small team. So, this will lift the weight off the others." Marques pointed back at the document. "You'll have to schedule a call with Cameron for any additional details since he oversees it all. Your proposed budget was approved with a little cushion, and any extra expenses are invoiced to RSE. But this also means on the road it will be the two of us and the band.”
“I’ve never done anything like this," Brione whispered.
“Can you handle it?”
Chapter Thirteen
Marques’ questioning gaze bore into her.
Brione hinged her nervous energy on a truth: there was a first time for everything. In the past, she successfully planned and executed campaign fundraisers. She handled events for corporations and nonprofit organizations. This was only a six-city tour. Her greatest foreseeable challenge was getting through the first city and then she’d wash, rinse, and repeat on the others.
The thought of packing her bags and exploring the cities by a tour bus excited her. Eating at small restaurants, taking in the local sights, and sharing it with him. Well, of course, she’d share it with him. She glanced up at him. An uneasy exchange passed between them. It was like he could read her mind as a slow smile crossed his face.
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