Seduced by His Song

by Abby Gordon

  Seduced by His Song

  Carnal Connections Book One

  By Abby Gordon

  Copyright 2017 by Abby Gordon

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage r retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author. All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Cover art by Angela Anderson

  Dedication –

  To Angela and Kimberly –

  Thank you

  words cannot describe how much your support has meant to me

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter One

  The squeals could be heard across the cavernous room.

  “I wonder which celebrity just checked in,” rumbled the head bartender, pausing to glance up as he cut the lemons.

  “Well, Tom, the way they’re acting, I’d say male, tall, devastatingly handsome and been here before,” replied his assistant with a smile as she selected another lime.

  “Why aren’t you over there peeking through the doors, Jessica?”

  Jessica Munroe just shook her head and smiled at her supervisor before answering, “No need. They’ll be over in a moment to describe whomever it was in nauseating detail.”

  Tom chuckled and bobbed his head. Quick light footsteps and excited whispers soon proved her right as the four waitresses gathered around the prep area.

  “It’s him, Jessica. He’s back,” Tina said breathlessly. “Oh, he looks as wonderful and handsome as ever.”

  Jessica gave Tom a knowing look and he winked.

  “How can you be so calm?” demanded Mary.

  “Be a little more descriptive and I might be able to rouse some thrill of excitement,” murmured Jessica.

  “Sean Livingston,” squealed Pippa.

  Knife poised above the lime, Jessica caught her breath. An image of the American singer/actor’s most recent video came to mind—tall, bronzed body emerging from the waves, broad shoulders, muscled chest and arms, and thick black hair that fell to his shoulders. And his voice weaving a seduction about wanting the woman he had just met.

  “Well?” Anna prompted. “Nothing to say?”

  “Just thinking of his last song,” Jessica replied, lifting her head and smiling at their sighs. They knew exactly what she meant. “I didn’t think he was due back until next year.”

  “Well, he just walked in.”

  “Opening in thirty minutes, ladies,” Tom cut into their chatter. “Go double-check your stations before Andy comes in.”

  With a few more excited squeals and giggles, the four took off. Jessica met her supervisor’s steady gaze and sighed.

  “Don’t look at me that way,” she told him. “I can’t help it.”

  “No, I know you can’t,” he finally grumbled. “But it would have been nice if someone had let us know so I could get Dave in to cover. He goes into that private room and hardly comes out and refuses to have anyone besides you fix his drinks and serve him. The others girls can serve his entourage, but he’ll only take a drink from you.”

  “He trusts me not to poison him,” she drawled.

  “Bloody hell. Good point,” Tom sighed. “I can’t blame the bloke after what happened in Athens. What did they say it was?”

  “Bad olives,” she replied, shaking her head. “The Greeks insisted they were Italian olives and the Italians were enraged. I think that one incident nearly started a trade war. And it wasn’t even possible.”

  “How do you know that?” he wondered curiously, giving her a surprised glance.

  “Because Sean Livingston doesn’t like drinks with food in them. And when he drinks, he doesn’t eat olives. He’ll have a roast beef sandwich, maybe some chips, and two cups of Earl Grey tea. First drink thirty minutes later and a meat pastry a couple hours later if he wants a second drink.”

  “That’s all he drinks?” Tom was stunned. “Only two drinks?”

  “That’s it,” she confirmed. “The rest of his entourage drink like fishes and can barely walk by the time they leave, but he is pretty much sober when he walks out. Except that one time,” Jessica grimaced in remembrance, “two and a half years ago.”

  “Can’t say I blame him for that,” murmured Tom, sweeping the lemons into their bowls. “Everyone was thinking he was about to propose and she’s found in someone else’s bed. So what do you think poisoned him?”

  “Could have been anything,” Jessica replied with a shrug. “But it wasn’t olives.”

  “You could sell all that to the tabloids,” he told her. “They go nuts for any and all details about big stars like him.”

  “And have the paps breathing down my neck?” She shuddered. “No, thank you. I’ve seen how they treat people like him. All that yelling and crowding around. I’d be terrified.”

  “You wouldn’t want the attention?”

  “Tom, I have a nice quiet life and I like it like that.” She jerked her head toward the door as she put the limes in bowls. “I’m quite content to let folks like Sean Livingston deal with the paps and attention.”

  “Maybe that’s why he trusts you,” mused Tom.

  “Maybe,” she replied, then sighed a little. “I’ll go set up the private room.”

  “I’ll see if Dave can come in.”

  Jessica scooped up bowls of the lemons and limes on her way to the double doors that lead to the exclusive room. Putting the limes in the crook of her left arm, she used her right hand to open the door and flip the switch. The bright light was jarring after the half-set lights in the main area. Going to the bar, she went about getting ready, making sure she would have enough glasses and bottles, especially the premiere gin for Sean’s drink. After five years, working her way up from dining room waitress to assistant bartender at the five-star London hotel, she knew what Sean Livingston and his people liked and would ask for. She called the kitchen for their usually requested munchies, including his sandwich, and made sure she had the tea.

  “I won the toss,” Pippa announced, skipping through the door. “What can I do to help prep?”

  “Thank goodness,” Jessica told her in relief. Of the four girls on that night, Pippa was the steadiest. “Is Tom still in a snit?”

  “Not as much. Dave’s on his way in.”

  “Excellent. Now, you’ve never worked the room when Sean and his people were in here, so let me tell you who normally sits where and asks for what.”

  She spent the next ten minutes going over the routine with Pippa, who picked things up quickly despite her excitement.

  “Anything in particular I should know?” she asked as the kitchen staff came in with a cart.

  “Treat everyone the same as you would Sean. He notices everything and doesn’t like it if he thinks you’ve slighted someone because of their job. Be nice and polite and smiling to all of them and you won’t have a problem.”

  “You think I could ask him to sign this?” Pippa held up a magazine that had the singer/actor on the cover. “I just bought it at the newsst
and.”

  Jessica smiled and nodded. “Let him sit down and make sure everyone’s had their first round of drinks first and he won’t mind. He really is very nice and polite. And,” she winked, “he’s a great tipper if he and his people have been well-taken care of.”

  “Just the two of us though,” Pippa whispered, her gaze sweeping the room. “It’s a Sunday, so we don’t have the full crew.”

  Looking around as well, Jessica took in the three semicircle booths that could hold eight easily, and the five tables that encircled the private dance area.

  “He usually has just eight or so with him,” she assured the younger woman. “We should be able to handle that. Unless another celebrity has checked in?”

  “I haven’t heard,” Pippa shook her head. “And even then, we’d be all right as long as it isn’t that whining brat.”

  Jessica laughed and put an easy arm around Pippa’s shoulders.

  “I would have loved to have seen that though.”

  “Me too. Imagine that scrawny git thinking he could challenge a man like Sean and beat him up. I’m surprised Sean didn’t hit him more than once.”

  “Once was enough to knock him on his arse,” Jessica recalled. “Was it the nose or jaw that was broken?”

  “Nose,” replied Pippa. “Improved his face a bit. Gave it some character.”

  “Pity the character bit didn’t sink into his brain.”

  Pippa giggled. “You suppose his ex-wife appreciated it? In private at least. I know what she said publicly.”

  “I would hope so. Even if they’ve been divorced a while, it’s still got to be nice to know that the father of your daughter will defend your honor like that.”

  “It is romantic,” sighed Pippa, then snorted. “As if Charlotte Jacobs would have anything to do with the likes of Allan Trindle.”

  “Exactly. Now, go see if you can find us some more napkins. Last time, I nearly ran out.”

  “You got it,” the girl replied, practically skipping out.

  Jessica sighed and smiled. Only twenty-three and she felt so much older than Pippa’s nearly twenty-one. Turning to check her reflection in the bar’s mirrors, she straightened her collar, smoothed down her black vest, and tucked a few wayward strands of dark brown hair behind her ears.

  ****

  “Yo, fearless leader,” called Tony Henderson, coming through the suite’s living room. “You stay in there any longer and the bars and clubs will be closed.”

  Sean Livingston opened the bathroom door and propped his right shoulder against the frame as he dried his hands. Grinning at his PR handler, he tossed the towel onto the bathroom counter and straightened. Laughing as he clapped Tony on the shoulder, he passed him and headed to the door.

  “We can’t have that. There are gorgeous women to admire.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Tony approved.

  Grinning, Sean opened the suite door and saw the other six men who traveled with him waiting in the corridor.

  “Sorry about the delay, guys. It’s his fault,” he told them, jerking his thumb at Tony. “He arranged a radio chat at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. So I decided to shave tonight and go scruffy tomorrow.”

  “Bloody hell,” muttered his English bodyguard.

  “Thirty minutes tops and then we’re on the plane and can sleep,” Sean assured them.

  “Sounds like a plan,” murmured his personal assistant, updating his calendar. He turned to Tony. “Which radio station and program?”

  While the two of them went over the details, they walked down the hall to the elevators. Frank went ahead to push the call button.

  “So, one or two drinks tonight, boss?” asked his American guard.

  “Depends on the bartender,” replied Sean.

  “Hope Jessica’s working tonight,” murmured the English one.

  “She’s not your typical English rose,” observed the American.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I always think blonde and blue-eyed.”

  “Hell, that’s Scandinavian, mate,” laughed the English. “Get your nationalities straight.”

  Sean smiled as he stepped onto the waiting elevator. The seven men around him bantered and talked about the women they would dance with. Sean’s thoughts turned to Jessica. He’d first seen her nearly five years ago in the hotel’s restaurant. Shy and demure, she had just started working the room. Yet there had been an intelligence, an awareness, in her dark-blue eyes when she’d looked around the dining room that had struck him. He wasn’t surprised when, on his next visit, she’d been moved into the club room. A few months later, she’d been the senior waitress in there. Two years after she’d started, she was a bartender. And then had come Athens.

  After spending a week in the hospital, he’d been extremely careful—both in how much he drank and who he trusted to prepare his drinks and food. Some called him paranoid. Jessica had understood that without an explanation. His first visit to the hotel after, he’d requested her in the private area. She’d had sealed bottles to prepare his drinks and made sure that anything brought in for him to eat she cut off a random bite and ate it. She rarely spoke, but smiled and laughed softly as his crew joked about. Jessica took care of them all equally, her sharp eyes not missing a thing. She remembered details about them, asking how they were doing.

  Leaning back against the wall as the elevator stopped for more people to get on, Sean smiled. Her dark hair was always pulled back in a neat chignon, putting her high cheekbones into relief. A delicate chin with a cleft, and she reminded him of a drawing of a fairy princess from his daughter’s favorite book. And the body, willow with soft curves beneath the crisp white shirt and black vest and pants of her uniform that showed she was definitely a woman. His cock twitched, reminding him of how long it had been.

  Eleven months. Eleven months of being on set, doing PR work, a few surprise appearances at concerts. He’d been going nonstop for nearly a year. His team was as exhausted as he was.

  “After tomorrow morning, fellas, that’s it for a few weeks,” he told them quietly as they reached the first floor. “I’ll be at the island, fooling around in my studio there until after New Year and awards season starts.”

  “Except for…”

  “The promo engagements and premieres in New York and London in a few weeks,” Sean finished, smiling at his assistant. “Don’t worry, Harry. I hadn’t forgotten.”

  “So,” mused Adam, the “detail man” as Sean called him. Adam handled what Harry and Tony missed. Granted that wasn’t much, but Sean knew that without the three of them he wouldn’t be able to get from point A to point B without looking like an idiot. “We’ve about nine hours to revel before check-out time, boys. Sleep can wait until we’re on the plane.”

  “Woohoo,” chortled Frank.

  Sean shook his head as the men surged forward into the club. Tony glanced at him.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked quietly.

  “You always say that as if you believe I’m about to get into trouble,” Sean complained.

  “Because when you get that look on your face, you’re usually about to,” countered Tony.

  “Yeah, well, shit happens.” Sean shrugged and nodded at the club manager. “Could there be a bigger dick than him?” he wondered aloud. “He looks like a damn weasel or ferret.”

  “Allen Trindle,” grinned Tony.

  “Ah, fuck,” Sean groaned as they weaved around the tables that lined the dance floor. “You had to go and mention his name.”

  Tony laughed as Sean glad-handed a few other celebrities, posed for a few selfies with fans, and signed some autographs. Hotel security stood at the door, the end of red velvet rope held in his hand.

  “Evening, Mr. Livingston,” the deep voice rumbled. “Jessica will be your bartender tonight and Pippa will be your waitress.”

  “Excellent,” replied Sean. “How are you doing tonight, Steve?”

  The guard beamed. “Just fine, Mr. Livingston. Ju
st fine.”

  Grinning, Sean stepped into the room. His head swiveled left to the bar. Jessica was behind the gleaming dark wood, smiling and shaking her head at one of Frank’s jokes. Probably off-color and meant to make her blush. Jessica just rolled her eyes and handed out the drinks. As if sensing his gaze, her body shifted slightly and their eyes met. Sean felt need and hunger rise in him. Just as he realized the last time he’d been with a woman had been the last time he’d been in London. He needed a woman all right. And he wanted Jessica.

  “Good evening, Mr. Livingston,” a slightly breathless feminine voice greeted him.

  He glanced to the side at the young blonde.

  “Hello,” he replied. “Pippa, isn’t it? How are you doing?”

  “Fantastic, Mr. Livingston,” she answered. “We’ve got everything set up for you and the DJ said to just give him the word and he’ll have things flowing in here.”

  “I think we’ll stick to the jazz for right now,” Sean decided. “At least until we’ve all had something to eat.”

  “Yes, sir.” She nodded. “I’ll go tell him and then get drinks for everyone.”

  She practically bounced out.

  “I suddenly feel very old next to all of her energy,” Sean murmured to Tony.

  Sean was startled to discover that Tony’s head was turned so he could watch Pippa walking away. With a grin at having been caught, Tony raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, but imagine taking advantage of all that energy.”

  The two men laughed as they made their way around the smaller room. His people had managed to meet a few women in the few minutes he’d taken to cross the main club and three of the side tables had two couples each, drinks already in hand. The others were mulling around between the bar and table with sandwiches and munchies. Both booths were empty as the entourage waited for him to decide where he wanted to sit.

  First, Sean wanted to hear her voice. The lilt and warmth in the low tones. He wanted to see her smile and the light in her eyes. He wanted to watch her hands as she made his drink. He wanted to watch as her eyes met his as she sipped from the glass to prove that he was safe. He wanted… Fuck. He couldn’t remember wanting a woman this much. Not even when he’d first gotten together with his ex-wife Charlotte.