I look at him for a moment. He’s a good-looking guy. Stylish but not metrosexual. I’m from Texas, after all. We like our men to be men. He has lovely, blue eyes, light-brown hair, a nice build. He oozes confidence and polish. But he’s no Michael. He’s handsome, not hot, and I don’t feel any sort of spark with him—just a pleasant warmth. But the fact is that he’s here, wanting to be with me, and Michael isn’t. My mama would say that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Mel has already told me that I can’t wait around for Mike to get past whatever the hell is holding him back from me—from us. I know she’s right.
“I’m glad we’re getting a chance to meet too,” I tell him, smiling.
Just then, the waitress comes back. I see her smile disintegrate as she reaches the table and finds everyone else gone.
I’m trying so hard to be a good Christian, but I really want to claw her eyes out. Thinking that Michael would put his hands on trash like her but not me makes me ill.
“Where’d the rest of your party go?” she asks with disdain.
“You can just leave their drinks here,” I tell her, refusing to address her question.
“And who are you anyway, honey?” she says, sarcasm dripping from her lips. “Mike’s PA? Why don’t you let me worry about where to put his drink and you can tell him when he has a phone message.”
I see JR smirking as he looks down at the table. Then, before I can answer, he speaks up.
“She’s a professional singer, not a personal assistant,” he says. “And your job is to be polite to all the customers, not just the famous ones who stick their tongues in your ear.”
Her face turns bright red and her eyes narrow. “Listen, sweetheart. I’m real clear on my job requirements. I don’t need some wannabe singer’s boyfriend telling me how to do it—”
JR interrupts her. “Well, it’s a good thing that’s not who I am then. Let me introduce myself.“ He stands, towering over her as he extends his hand. She looks at it in disgust. “I’m JR DuBois, the new owner of the club and, therefore, your boss. And your name is?”
The color drains out of her face as fast as it rushed in. I can see her swallow.
“Uh, you’re Mr. DuBois?” she gasps.
“I am. And you’re officially on probation. Go clock out and be in my office at eight a.m. sharp tomorrow to find out how you’re going to work your way back into my good graces.”
“Yes, sir,” she chokes out, looking terrified.
“And send someone else over here with a food menu, please. We’ll need a new waitress obviously.”
“Yes, Mr. DuBois.”
I see her face crumple as her eyes well up. I almost feel sorry for her, but then I remember Mike’s hands all over her and the rage rises to the top again.
After she scuttles away, JR sits back down, adjusting the rolled cuffs on his dark button-down shirt. “Sorry about that,” he says quietly. “I don’t like to have staff disputes in public, but I couldn’t let her talk to you like that.”
I stifle the urge to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. Instead, I put my hand on his arm. It’s strong and solid beneath my fingers. “Don’t apologize. That was one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever done for me. And you didn’t tell me you just bought this place. Did Mel know?”
He laughs as he takes my hand in his and squeezes the tips of my fingers. “No. I didn’t tell her that’s why I wanted to meet here. I just signed the paperwork this afternoon. I’m going to make some major changes, turn it into a supper club, but that’ll take a few months. In the meantime, how’d you like to hit the dance floor with me?”
“I think I’d like that a lot,” I answer. And I mean it.
THE REST of the evening goes by without incident. It’s easier to hang out with JR when Mike isn’t there sucking up all the positive energy in the place. JR is thoughtful and easygoing. There’s no big spark, but I enjoy him and he’s such a gentleman. I could even see my parents liking him.
When it’s time to head home, Joss and Mel go to call the car service while JR walks me downstairs to the main entrance.
“So,” he says, smiling but rocking back and forth on his heels a few times. “Mel says you’re in Dallas for the next few months?”
“I am. I’ll be recording my first album.”
“Yeah? That’s so cool. Are you excited?”
I think about it for a minute. Am I excited to be spending nearly twenty-four-seven with Michael, doing something as intimate as making music? I’m not sure, but I am excited to see the results. I know they’ll either be an utter disaster like Michael and I are or a miracle like Michael and I could be if he’d let us. I give myself a little shake out of my wayward thoughts.
“Yes, I am. It’ll be really interesting to learn the process.”
JR takes a small step closer to me, and my heart beats a little faster.
“Well, I’m also going to be in Dallas a lot over the next few months. I’ve rented a place not too far from here so I can oversee the renovations. I was thinking that I’d like to see you again. Maybe we could hang out some when you’re not working?”
An image of Michael’s face when he looked at JR and me across the table flashes through my mind. There was so much in that brief expression that I could never read it all. But that’s all it was—a brief expression. He’s made it pretty clear that he has no intention of pursuing me in any way but professionally. I may have agreed to the recording deal to see where it led Michael and me, but maybe this is really my chance to see what else—and who else—is waiting for me.
“I’d love that,” I tell JR, smiling.
We exchange numbers. Then Mel and Joss are back and the car’s waiting. As JR walks us out to the sidewalk, he leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. I can smell his cologne, something light and fresh. Kind of like JR.
In the car, Mel leans over and whispers in my ear, “What did you think?”
I feel my cheeks heating, but luckily, the car’s dark. I’m sure she can’t tell I’m blushing.
“He’s nice,” I tell her.
“But he’s not Mike,” she finishes.
I turn and look at her. Joss is sitting on the seat facing us, but he’s looking out the window, trying not to eavesdrop.
“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”
“No. I’ve discovered hearts are kind of hard to control. But are you at least going to give him a chance?”
“Yeah, I am. He’s a really nice guy, and I know you’re right. I can’t sit around waiting for Mike to get over twenty-eight years’ worth of emotional immaturity. It’ll be good to spend time with a guy like JR. I know that.”
Mel smiles at me. “Good girl,” she says. “At least I can go home in a few days and know that there’s someone around here to look after you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m a big girl, Mel, really. I’ll be fine. Mike, JR, whatever. I can take care of myself.”
The car slows as it pulls up to the porte cochere at the hotel. Mel and I climb out and then Joss follows. As Mel starts to walk in, Joss touches my arm.
“Hey, Jenny,” he says quietly. “Mel is trying to help, and JR is a great guy—don’t get me wrong—but I’ve known Mike most of his life.”
I nod, looking down at the sidewalk because I sense that I’m not going to like what’s coming next. Something along the lines of, “He’ll never change.”
“I’m the first to admit he can be a real bastard,” Joss continues. “He nearly wrecked my entire life a year ago, but he’s not the same guy he was then. He’s cut back on the drinking and the partying. He’s serious about your career and about the music. He was there for Walsh when no one else could be. I’m not sure what it is that’s holding him back—he’s never been big on sharing, even with Walsh and me—but I can tell he’s crazy about you. Just maybe cut him a little more slack? I think he can get there—for you.”
I feel my eyes burn with unshed tears. “Okay,” I answer. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
&nb
sp; “Joss?” Mel’s voice carries from the front door of the hotel as she starts to walk back outside. “You two coming in or what?”
“You got it, gorgeous. We’re on the way.” He gives me his brilliant smile, the one that I’m sure had girls falling at the feet of Lush from coast to coast, and we walk inside.
As I open the door to my suite, I realize just how exhausted I am. I’ve been going since early this morning, and the stress of dealing with Michael and JR all at once has worn me through. I shut the door behind me and lean my back against it for a moment. Before I can turn on a light, I hear him.
“Nice to see you’re back in your room alone, Sunshine.”
“Aahh!” I shriek as I slap my hands against my mouth. “Sweet baby Jesus, Michael, you scared the living daylights out of me!”
I try to get my breath under control as I lean against the door. Once my eyes adjust to the gloom, I can see the outline of his big form. He stands from the armchair he was sitting in and stalks my direction. My heart is beating like I’ve just run a marathon.
“What are you doing, Michael?” I ask, sounding breathless right when I don’t want to.
“I should be asking you that question,” he growls. “I should be asking you what the hell you think you’re doing with JR fucking DuBois? What the hell you’re doing showing up at your hotel room at two a.m. the night before you’re supposed to be writing music for the album?” He reaches me and doesn’t touch me with his hands but presses his body flush against mine so that I’m trapped between him and the door. He leans his head down, lips brushing my ear, and asks, “What the hell you’re doing to me?”
I suck in a quick breath. I’ve never been this close to Michael before. He’s always been so careful to keep his distance. Now, I can feel all of his hard muscles pressing into me, as his hands come up, one landing against the door, while the other softly strokes my hair. He’s big, and hot, and angry, and I can’t think much less speak for a moment.
“Michael,” I finally say so weakly I might as well not even have tried. He’s running his nose up and down my neck now and I think my knees might give out.
“You smell like sunshine.” He licks my earlobe and then takes it between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make my blood pump an extra bit. I gasp. “And you taste like it too.”
His hand caresses my hair, before he runs it down my side, resting it on my waist. “I couldn’t stand it,” he growls. “I couldn’t stand seeing him put his hands on you. I wanted to yank him out of that chair and put my fist down his throat. You can’t see him again. That’s just not going to happen anymore.”
I manage to find the strength to lift my arm and I put my hand on his cheek so he has to look me in the eyes. His skin is rough with stubble and I want to rub up against it like a cat. My nipples ache at the mere thought.
“What about you and the waitress?” I ask. “Are you going to stop touching women like her? Sleeping with them then sneaking them out of the hotel at the crack of dawn?”
He pulls away a fraction, breathing hard. “You know about that?” he says, incredulous.
“Yeah, and if you think it doesn’t hurt, you’re wrong.”
He pushes away from me, and even though I can breathe better, I also miss his heat.
“That right there is why I shouldn’t be here.” He paces the floor in front of me. “Even when I haven’t touched you, I hurt you. I’m no good for you, Sunshine. I know it. You know it. But right now, I don’t have the strength to stay away. You need to tell me to go. Please.” The last word is a whisper, his voice raspy and desperate.
I move to him and lay my hands on his chest. “What if I don’t want you to go?” I ask.
“I’m not the right guy for you. You have to know it’ll end badly. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers then leans his forehead against mine.
“I don’t want JR,” I say.
“There’s someone like him out there for you.”
“I don’t want them,” I persist.
We stand, locked in a battle of sorts, staring at one another, the sexual energy in the room so high that I’m surprised it hasn’t caused all the lights to blaze to life. Then, just when I think he’s going to turn and walk out, he makes a strangled sound and his lips come down on mine.
The pressure is bruising and his tongue is inside me like lightening, thrusting, seeking. I moan, unable to contain the way the feelings shoot through me at his touch and taste. I can tell he’s been drinking, the burn of whiskey still strong on his lips. I hear both of us panting in the dark. His razor stubble scrapes against my chin and then I feel his erection pressing into my stomach. It sends a shock of electricity shooting through me.
“God, Jenny,” he gasps as he leaves my mouth and kisses down the side of my neck. His hand runs along my waist and moves up to my breast. He squeezes it, sending more of those fabulous sparks through me. I can’t help but arch into his touch, my breasts feeling like they’ve swollen to twice their normal size. I ache, and I want him to make it stop.
Before I realize what’s happening, he’s maneuvered us through the living room and into the bedroom. There, he unzips my dress and slides the sleeves down my arms until it pools at my feet. Next he unclasps my bra and lets it drop to the floor. I swallow loudly in the dark. I’ve never been undressed in front of any man, at least not since I was an infant. But I don’t say a word, afraid that, if I evidence any discomfort, Michael will bolt.
He gently pushes me down on the bed then follows me, pressing the full length of his big, heavy frame against my smaller one. He takes my arms and stretches them above my head. Then he licks slowly up the center of my cleavage before moving on to one nipple. When he takes it in his mouth and sucks hard, I cry out in some sort of fevered confusion. I’ve never felt anything like it before—a combination of pleasure and pain that makes me writhe against him like a wanton.
I hear him chuckling. “Been a while, Sunshine?” he asks.
If only he knew it’s been never. That’s one conversation I won’t be having with him though. Michael’s been hard enough to get here. Nothing would scare away a guy like him faster than, “Oh by the way, I’m a virgin.”
So I don’t say a word as he continues to suck first one nipple then the other, kneading my breasts, breathing hard, telling me how beautiful I am. My heart is racing. I’m scared but also exhilarated. I feel free in a way I never have before, like a part of me is set loose from a prison it’s been in forever.
I caress his big, broad back, wanting to touch his skin. “Michael,” I pant out. “Your shirt… You should get rid of that.”
He stops, looking at me, his eyes full of darkness. Then he sits back on his haunches and reaches down to grab the hem of his silk, knit shirt. It is a great shirt, clinging to the muscles in his chest and cutting off just above his biceps. As he removes it, I see endless smooth, swarthy skin spread over some of the most amazing muscles I’ve ever laid eyes on. Michael is built. He’s a big guy, over six feet, and constructed like an action hero. But to see his eight-pack, the way the muscles along his sides mold to make a v down to the waistband of his jeans—well, I thought my heart was racing before. But I had no idea how fast it’s capable of beating.
He kneels there, above me, his expression inscrutable. Then I realize he’s looking down at my very bare breasts. I instinctively pull my arms up to cover myself.
“Don’t,” he says in a soft but commanding voice. “You’re amazing. I could look at you all day and never get tired of it.”
I put my arms up to reach around his neck and I pull him forward so his chest rubs against me. His mouth finds mine and he groans as our tongues seek out one another. I run my hands across his shoulders and down his massive arms. I feel tiny with him but so safe and protected.
One of his hands skims along my leg. Then he stops kissing me and grasps the sides of my underwear before he slides them down, a wicked glint in his eyes. After he
removes them, he kneels between my legs, just caressing them.
“I know you, Sunshine, so I’m not going to push you tonight, but sometime soon, I’m going to get you like this and turn on every light in the room so I can admire you. You deserve to be worshipped by the light of day and the dark of night.”
I sigh, everything inside me turning liquid under his attentions. I’ve dreamed of this moment, when Michael would admit that he wants me, and it feels even better than I imagined.
He begins kissing up the inside of first one thigh then the other, and my mind races at the possibility of what I think he’s going to do next. As he continues nuzzling and kissing my inner thighs, his big palm finds its way to my center. When he presses against it, I cry out at the sensation. Then his fingers are probing deeper, and before I know it, they’re inside me, sliding in and out, and it feels—
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he gasps. “And wet. Jesus, you’re incredible.”
I give a short squeak that I hope passes for a giggle. And I find myself moving against his hand, unable to do anything but grind on his fingers and the heel of his hand.
Michael has one hand on my breast, one inside me, and he’s nuzzling my stomach, licking around my belly button, blowing hot breath across my damp skin. The pressure is building inside of me and it hurts, but in the most amazing way. I’m trying to keep from saying something that will embarrass me, but little moans are escaping along with the heavy breathing. If this is foreplay, I think sex is going to kill me.
“Come for me, baby,” Michael growls as he takes his thumb and rubs it in just the right spot while his fingers inside me massage someplace delicious at the same time.
My back bows up off the bed as the ache inside reaches a critical mass before enormous waves of pleasure roll through me. My core pulsates over and over and I cry out, “Oh, God, oh! Michael!” The waves slowly die down and fade away, and I become aware of my breathing, which is really panting, and my cries in the otherwise quiet room. Michael pulls himself up alongside me and tenderly kisses my lips. I’m so disoriented and unmoored that I’m shaking.
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