Grinning, Chris thought it only fair to return the favor. Lowering his eyes, he made a big show of running his gaze slowly over her body, starting at her black cowboy boots and working his way back up to her face. He stopped to linger in certain areas, delighting in the fact that he seemed to be making her uncomfortable.
Sara’s blush deepened.
Chris decided it was time to turn up the voltage, and gave her his should be patented Chris Alex megawatt smile. “Babe, I could teach you a couple of things, if…” He paused, wiggling his eyebrows. “I was into older women.”
He watched her hands clench and her grey eyes smoke into a fiery blaze. “I’m thirty-two, you mummy. What are you, like sixty or something?”
“Forty-four,” he retorted. He was pleasantly surprised by her age. He’d thought she was much younger, actually. Setting back down his guitar case, he talked himself into giving this another try. This one had claws, but man she was a fine piece of ass. “Listen, Sara. I’m sorry. We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Can we rewind this whole deal and start over?”
She gave him a suspicious look. “Ok. Sure. I guess.”
“I mean if it’s possible for you to use that sexy voice of yours for something other than insults?”
Sara arched a brow. So the man candy with the tight bod, perfectly mussed up brown hair, milk chocolate eyes, and smoldering smile thought she had a sexy voice did he? Sweet. She could work with that.
“Have you seriously never heard the name, Sara Daniels?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
She rolled her eyes. “And you mean to tell me that you’ve never seen a commercial for ‘Wild Texas Rose,’ my signature perfume?”
“Nope.” He shook his head, making the stylishly long layers of his brown hair slide appealingly across his face.
“You geriatric rockers don’t get out much, do you?”
“Well, why don’t you play me one of your redneck songs,” he asked smugly. “Maybe I’ll recognize it.”
“Alright.” Sara took a sip of bottled water and set it down. She dried her hands on her jeans before lifting her guitar off the stand where she’d placed it earlier. She took her time, carefully clipping it on. She gave him an I-am-the-diva-you-are-a-lowly-minion look, before launching into a rocking country tune.
Shit, Chris thought as soon as she began singing. No wonder she had a huge ego. He did recognize the song. It was a huge cross- over hit. No way in hell was he going to let her know that, though. Her voice was incredibly strong and brassy. No perceptible hillbilly twang, just a slight and extremely sexy southern drawl. “Awesome,” he admitted when she finished. And although she was no Avery Jones, she did know her way around a six string. Competent and confident.
She acknowledged his compliment with a curt nod, some of the previous tension seeming to uncoil from her spine. Taking another sip of water, she asked, “Did you have something in mind for this so-called collaboration Mary insists we do?”
“Hold on. Wait a second there, Calamity Jane.” He raised both brows. “No one said anything to me about a collaboration. We’re just supposed to sing a tune together. Period. End of story.”
Her grey eyes flashed and her back appeared to bow up again. “I don’t do backup vocals any more, you old fart. Mary said…”
“I don’t care what she said. It’s not her album.”
“Ok. Listen.” She rubbed her temples. “You’re giving me a terrible headache.” She started packing up her guitar, her movements herky- jerky. “I’m done here. If you figure this all out,” she picked up her case and paused in the doorway, “give me a call. Mary’s got my number.”
In the break room Samantha Daniels slammed the refrigerator door shut hard. “Bother!” she spat, spinning around angrily. Her breath came out in a rush as she ran right into someone’s rock hard chest. “I’m sorry, excuse me,” she apologized, backing up a step and glancing up into a pair of mesmerizing mossy green eyes. Long layers of sun streaked blond hair artfully framed them. The rest of his face wasn’t half bad either. A close cut beard and mustache several shades darker than his hair enhanced the strong masculine planes of his face. His mouth was pulled back into a wide white smile. Very cute.
“Did you really just say ‘bother?’” he asked, eyes twinkling with amusement.
Samantha put her hands on her hips. “So what if I did?”
JR glanced down at the petite woman in front of him. He’d caught enough glimpses of her around Black Cat this past month to make him want to get a closer look. She was real cute, early twenties maybe, with long glossy chestnut curls surrounding a heart shaped face. She had the most striking grey eyes he’d ever seen. The way she’d just said ‘bother’ like it was a curse word in that southern twang had been freaking adorable.
“I’d say I think it was pretty cute kinda like you are…little missy,” he teased, mimicking her southern accent He noticed how the compliment made her blush. “But what did you see in there that brought out such a fierce response? Is the Lean Cuisine growing bacteria cultures again?”
She giggled, looking almost young enough to pass for a uniformed high school girl in her charcoal colored pencil skirt and pin tucked white silk blouse. “No,” she answered with a frown. “Someone ate my yogurt…again. It’s the third time this week, and I put my name on it with a sticky note and everything.”
JR pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. Sheepishly, he reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a crumpled yellow post it note. He read it out loud, “Property of Samantha Daniels… Oops.” He glanced back at her through a thick fringe of blond eyelashes with an apologetic expression on his face.
“You!” Sam pushed him in the chest. “You’re the thief! You,” she fumbled for words, “yogurt stealing jerk.”
Arms up in mock surrender, he said, “I’m sorry. I was hungry. Key lime is my favorite flavor. I couldn’t resist.”
She glared at him, arms folded over her chest.
“Isn’t there something I could do to make it up to you? I realize by your expression that you consider this a grievous offense.”
“It most certainly is.” She nodded solemnly and began tapping her foot which made her loose reddish brown curls tumble around her face. “And disciplinary action is mandatory.”
“Yikes.” JR rubbed a hand against his short beard. “Ok. What if I know for a fact that the yogurt swiper in question is very sorry?”
“Remorse would definitely be a factor in reducing the sentence,” Sam said with her lip curving up into a half smile.
“Sam, seriously, I’d like to make it up to you. It’s the least I can do,” JR said with his hand placed dramatically over his heart. “Let me take you out to your favorite restaurant for dinner. What would you say to that?”
Samantha’s silver eyes sparkled. “I’d say…” she lost her train of thought as her phone pinged. Glancing down at the screen, she frowned.
“Everything ok?” JR asked with a lifted brow.
“Huh? Oh yes, everything’s fine. It’s just my sister, Sara. She got into town late last night and is already having trouble with a co-worker this morning. She can be a bit difficult.” Sam shrugged. “About dinner, I don’t really know…”
“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” JR cut off what was beginning to sound like a brush off. He didn’t want to give her an opportunity to get away. “Whenever you’re free, alright?”
“Ok. Yeah, with my sister in, tonight wouldn’t be good. What I was going to say is…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Hey. I don’t even know your name.”
He extended his hand. “John Raymond. My friends call me JR.”
Sam’s tiny hand was swallowed up by his longer fingers. A blush colored her cheeks when she felt him brush a calloused thumb across the back of her fingers. The caress was light and brief. She’d have thought it imagined but for the sinful grin that crept across his face. “Nice to meet you JR,” she said suspiciously, pulling her hand free.
Her cell phone pinged again and she looked away from him to read the message. “I’ve gotta go.” She sighed. “But would you put your contact information into my phone?”
“Sure. I was just going to suggest that,” JR answered exchanging his cell for hers. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll decide on a place.” He smiled at her, white teeth flashing. “I’m looking forward to it, Samantha.”
“Me too. Only JR?”
“Yeah?”
“In the future, keep your hands off my stuff, comprende?”
In the living room of the elegant, traditionally decorated two bedroom Sutton Place hotel suite, Samantha sat facing her sister on the beige sofa. Both had their legs crisscrossed, and a pizza box lay open and empty on the polished cherry wood coffee table in front of them. Sam lifted up her can of soda as if to give a toast. “Thanks, Sara. I was dying for some Dr. Pepper.”
“No worries. I wish I could have brought you some Blue Bell ice cream, too.”
Sam sighed with pleasure. “Ah, yes pralines and cream, my favorite.” Taking a sip of the soft drink, her eyes narrowed. “Ok, Sara. Give me the details. What happened today between you and Chris Alex? He was in Mary’s office right before I checked out today. I heard your name mentioned. And I can tell you honestly it wasn’t a quiet conversation. Everyone on the executive floor heard it.”
“What exactly was he saying?”
“Something about you acting all high and mighty and demanding equal collaboration on his album.”
“Damn straight.” She nodded. “What did Mary say to that?”
“I don’t know. She closed the door. But when Chris came out, he looked pretty steamed.”
“Really? Hmmm.” Sara glanced down at her laptop briefly, typing a note into her facebook page before continuing. “Ok. Well. Maybe I overreacted just a tad. Chris wasn’t really all that bad.” She paused and smiled mischievously. “Badass body, though.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “Ah, now the situation becomes clearer.”
“Mmmm,” Sara murmured noncommittally. “How long do you think it takes him every day to style his hair so that those bangs of his fall across his forehead just so?”
Sam’s grey eyes twinkled. “His hair does always look nice. So do his blue eyes.”
“They’re light brown.”
“Ah-ha!” Sam said, pointing an accusing finger at her older sister. “You don’t notice a guy’s eye color unless you are seriously attracted, Sara.”
“Yeah, yeah, ok. I admit it. The guy is fine...and he totally knows it.” Sara distractedly pulled on one of her sister’s corkscrew curls as her expression turned thoughtful. “The problem with him is that big ego of his. He’s a real cocky bastard. But then I guess so are half the guys I meet. Either that or they’re married.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why I let him get to me so easily. Maybe it was the jet leg.”
The time difference between Texas and British Columbia was only two hours. Sam bet there was more to the situation with Chris Alex than Sara was admitting to, but she let it go for now. Leaning forward, she impulsively threw her arms around her older sister and hugged her. “I’ve missed you like crazy. I haven’t seen you for real in ages. Skype’s not the same. How long have you been on the road?”
“Six months.”
“Gad, Sara. I bet you’re sick of it.”
“Yeah, I am. I was hoping to see Grams during this break, but Mary showed up.” She ruffled Samantha’s curls. “Which is great because I get to see you, Munchkin.”
Samantha’s face broke into a teasing smile. “I hate that nickname. Five foot four is average height for a woman. You’re the freakishly tall one.”
“Ok. Alright. Truce! Tell me, how are things at Black Cat? Is working with Beth all that you expected it to be?”
Samantha rocked back, her silver eyes bright with excitement. “Oh-my- gosh! Black Cat is wonderful. I’ve got every nook and cranny of that historic place memorized now. It has so much character, just like the Kitsilano neighborhood. And the creative vibe...” She glanced at Sara. “You were there today. Didn’t you feel it as soon as you walked through the doors and saw all the gold records and awards lining the walls?”
Sara gave her sister a soft smile, admitting, “Yeah. I felt it. Black Cat has quite a reputation for recognizing and developing talent.”
Sam nodded. “Beth is wonderful, too. It’s all been great. Beth knows everything about everyone at the label. Working with her is a dream come true, like getting a PhD in PR. It’s only been four weeks, but I think I’ve learned more with her than I did the entire time I was getting my degree at TWU.” She twirled one of her chestnut curls between her fingers and glanced up at her sister. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me get the internship at Black Cat.”
“Hey, your transcripts already had you in the running.” She patted Sam’s knee. “The phone call I made was more of a formality.” Her sis could do with a little more confidence. “So, who’s the cute guy you texted me about? And where’d you meet him?”
Sam blushed, a detail that put Sara’s protective big sister radar on instant red alert. Sara couldn’t remember the last time Sam had blushed over a guy, any guy, not since middle school for sure.
“His name is John Raymond. I met him in the break room at work…”
“John Raymond?” Sara interrupted. “The John Raymond, as in JR, the drummer from Brutal Strength? Oh, hell, no.” She took a deep breath and placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Sam. I told you about dating guys in the business. It never works out. They’re all players working some angle. Especially that one.”
Sam thought back to her run in with JR, remembering the kindness in his green eyes. “I don’t think he’s like that, Sara,” she said, looking down, unwilling to meet the scrutiny of her sister’s gaze.
Sara didn’t know how to let Sam down gently. She knew for a fact that JR ran with a pretty fast crowd. In fact on the flight up to Vancouver, she had seen a spread of pictures of him in Star Magazine. The headline had been about JR and some pop diva at a wild after party. Although she knew as well as anyone that sometimes the press didn’t bother to get their facts straight, she still didn’t want her little sister involved with a guy like him. He wasn’t right for her at all. “Let’s Google him and see,” Sara said rubbing the back of her neck.
“No, let’s not,” Sam protested, shaking her head and causing her heavy mass of curls to cascade around her shoulders.
Ignoring her, Sara clicked open another window on her computer. After a couple of seconds, she swiveled the laptop around, showing Sam the screen. The TMZ page was filled with photos of JR. Several pages worth. In almost every single picture, he had a drink in his hand or some pretty girl on his arm, and in a lot of cases, both.
Sam reached over and slammed her sister’s laptop closed. She stood and crossed the room, blinking away the quick tears to hide them from her sister’s overly perceptive view. She didn’t want Sara to know just how much seeing the pictures of JR had bothered her. Get it together, she chastised herself. You only just met this guy. A curtain of disappointment descended over her thoughts. Staring vacantly out the sliding glass windows at the back of the suite, she didn’t really notice the beauty of the lit up Vancouver skyline. It was JR’s smiling face that preoccupied her mind.
Sara came up behind her, an image of the two sisters reflected in the glass. One tall, one short but both expressions were melancholy. Throwing her arm around Sam’s shoulder, Sara told her, “I’m sorry Sam. I didn’t mean to hurt you. It doesn’t make me happy to be the bearer of bad news, but don’t you think it’s better knowing now before you’d gotten involved with him?”
Sam glanced up at Sara and nodded. “I know. You’re right. I don’t like it, but I get it. And I appreciate you looking out for me. I couldn’t ask for a better sister. I love you, Sara.”
“I love you too, Munchkin.” A fierce wave of emotion washed over her. Sam and their grandmother were the only two pe
ople she allowed access to her heart. She would go to any length to keep her sister safe and her sweet spirit from being destroyed…as hers had been so long ago.
Throughout the meeting in the second floor executive conference room, JR watched Samantha. She sat next to Beth, Black Cat’s attractive middle aged Vice President of Public Relations, typing notes into her laptop, a wave of reddish brown curls obscuring her face. Several times he’d tried to catch her attention without success. She was obviously ignoring him. What the hell? He thought they’d really hit it off the other day. Why was she playing hard to get now? His long fingers drummed impatiently on the reflective surface of the large ebony table.
Mary shot him a sideways glance, before turning to Beth. “Could you run through the album launch schedule again? I’m not sure that everyone is paying attention.” She focused a narrow glare at Marcus and Avery.
Avery’s cheeks blushed almost matching her auburn hair. She elbowed Marcus in the ribs. Brutal Strength’s temperamental front man lifted his head from her neck, ran a hand through his shoulder length brown mane, and gave her a questioning look.
“Sure, Mary,” Beth said, shuffling through her notes. “Like I said, there’s not much left to do, especially PR wise. Since the recent event,” she paused for emphasis, “media interest in Avery and Brutal Strength has been at a fever pitch.”
Avery visibly winced. “Sorry.”
“Hey you don’t hear me complaining, Avery. A girl guitarist disguising herself to get into a rock band…” Greyish green eyes twinkling, she smiled with genuine affection. “I couldn’t have dreamed up better publicity if I tried. It’s gonna be one hell of a tour. All we really need to do is put the album out there and the fans will go wild.”
Marcus pulled Avery’s wheeled conference chair closer until there wasn’t an inch of space separating them and whispered something in her ear. Her face reddened again.
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