Red laughs and shakes her head. “No tricks here, Addie. But send him over to me when you’re done with him.”
Addie turns back to me with skeptical eyes. “She was one of my friends with your poster on her wall.”
“And I’m not afraid to admit it,” Red says loudly as she stocks more wine.
“So, the job.” I cross my arms over my chest and watch her eyes dilate when they land on the sleeve tattoo on my right arm.
She’s not immune to me.
“Do you seriously want to sing here for peanuts?”
“I’d prefer popcorn, but I’ll take the peanuts.”
I smile and she chews her bottom lip and crosses her own arms, mirroring me. All that accomplishes is pushing her tits together, giving me a prime view of the best body I’ve seen in . . . ever.
Her curves have curves, and she owns every one of them, packaging them nicely in an outfit that screams class. In this moment, all I want to do is take her in my hands and feast on her.
But, one thing at a time.
“The job is for Friday and Saturday nights, from ten to close.”
“What time do you close?”
“Midnight.”
“I can work with that.”
She nods and then tips her head back and laughs. Her voice is raspy and just as sexy as the rest of her.
“Did I just hire Jake Knox?”
“No, ma’am, you just hired Jake Keller.” I sigh and rub my hand over my mouth, remembering that I haven’t shaved in about a week. I must look real professional, walking in here in questionably clean jeans and black T-shirt, unshaven, hair a fucking mess because I’m pretty sure I just ran my fingers through it before I left the house this morning.
But Addie just chews that lip again, then nods. “Okay, you can start this Friday and we’ll see how it goes.”
“Is this an audition?” I ask with surprise.
“Everyone auditions, Mr. Keller,” she replies and rests her hands on her hips. “But it’s a mutual audition. I’ll see if you’re a fit for us, and you’ll see if we’re a fit for you.”
Oh, I’m pretty sure the fit will be just fine, sweetheart.
“Sounds good. I’ll be here at nine thirty on Friday night to set up.”
“Great. You can just come back here to the bar. I’ll meet you here and show you around.”
I nod and shove my hands in my pockets, suddenly nervous for the first time since I was a kid, which kind of annoys me and makes me smile all at the same time.
“Now that that’s settled,” I say and hold her pretty blue eyes with mine. “How about if I take you out for a drink after closing Friday night?”
She blinks for a moment, not moving, then shakes her head and laughs, looks at her shoes and then back up at me.
“Let me make something perfectly clear,” she begins, speaking clearly. “I’m not a part of this offer. Nor will I ever be. I’m your boss, that’s it. Not to mention, I am in a relationship.”
“Idiot woman,” Red mutters behind the bar, but Addie ignores her.
“Understood,” I reply respectfully, but can’t help but feel a moment of regret.
Addison is one beautiful woman.
I have a feeling she’s much more than that, but she belongs to someone else, so it doesn’t really matter.
And why in the fuck does it matter to me anyway? Jesus, has it really been that long since I got laid?
“I’ll see you Friday night.”
“Yes, you will,” she replies and immediately turns her back on me, sauntering back to the bar in those amazing fuck-me heels, her ass swaying the whole way.
I can’t wait to see her Friday night.
I wave at Red and walk back out the way I came. The restaurant is filling up with lunch patrons. When I hit the sidewalk outside, I call Christina.
“Miss me already?” There’s a smile in her voice.
“Desperately. And, I think I just got a job.”
“You went?” She squeals and then relays the information to her husband, Kevin, before returning to me. “And you got the job?”
“Of course I got the job.”
“Did the manager recognize you?”
“Yes, but something tells me I got the job despite my music history, not because of it.”
“Interesting. I like her already.”
“So do I.”
THE DRIVE TO my home west of Portland via the Sunset Highway only takes about thirty minutes from downtown. That’s one of the things that I love about this city: you can go from bustling city to lazy suburb in just half an hour.
I bought a house on three acres in the rolling hills outside of Hillsboro about four years ago. It’s gated, and monitored closely by security. The main house is bigger than I’ll ever need, but it was the pool and, most important, the pool house that made me fall in love with it.
I love to swim, and I work out in the pool every single day I’m home. My best friend, and cofounder of Hard Knox, Max Bishop and I converted the pool house into a full studio and partnered up to begin Hard Knox Productions. Since starting business two years ago, I’ve had everyone from U2 to Usher in my studio, laying down tracks, writing songs.
Making music.
The music feeds my soul and has since I was nine and got my first guitar for Christmas. It’s a magic I haven’t been able to duplicate or replace with anything else. And for a little while, when I thought I’d abandon music altogether, it felt like I was living in purgatory.
A necessary purgatory, but fuck, how it hurt.
I park and jog around back, bypassing the house altogether, and am not surprised to find Max already at work when I walk into the studio.
“You’re late,” he mutters, then bites his pencil and tickles the keys of the baby grand in the corner that looks out over the pool.
“I got a job,” I announce and lean on the piano, reading the music lying in front of Max.
“Who’s coming now? I thought Maroon 5 had to postpone, since Adam has to tape the auditions for his show.”
“No, a regular gig job.”
His head jerks up, and for just a moment, there is so much hope in his eyes, it makes my chest hurt. “You got the band a gig?”
“No.” I shake my head and stare at the top of the piano. “There’s a new restaurant in town that needs a weekend musician. I’m going to do it.”
Max doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Who are you?”
“I was thinking it might be fun for you to come with me sometimes. We can perform some acoustic versions of some of the old songs. Show off our harmonies.”
“Are you sick? Should I call an ambulance?”
“Fuck you,” I reply and turn to walk away. I don’t need his shit. I should probably call Addie and tell her I’ve changed my mind. This is a ridiculous idea.
“Jake,” he says. “Talk to me. You hate to perform.”
“No, I just can’t perform the way we did,” I reply and turn around, hands in my pockets. “It almost destroyed my life once. And I’m sorry that when I lost it, so did you.”
“I didn’t have to,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I’ve been offered other lead guitar gigs in other bands. You know that. I don’t want to do it without you.”
“Let’s not talk about our feelings. We’re dudes.”
“Tell me about this gig. What made you decide to look into it?”
“Christina told me about it and asked me to.” I drop into a leather couch and sigh, my head leaned back on the cushion, and stare at the ceiling. “I love producing and writing with you. I don’t miss touring. I don’t miss the booze or the girls. We still have the same friends, and we still make music, so I have nothing to complain about.”
“What do you miss?” Max asks.
I chew my lip, and immediately remember Addie doing the same, and wonder what it would be like to feel her full lips under mine. To feel her full everything beneath me.
“I miss singing.” I glance over at Max and see him
nod. “I miss watching the crowd sing along with our songs. I miss the feeling I get when I’m singing so hard and long that my lungs are screaming and my throat feels raw, but I don’t even care because it’s just the music that matters.”
“I know.”
“And when I did the open-mic thing last weekend, it just hammered home how much I really do miss it.”
“I know.”
“So, for a couple hours a week, I want to sit in a room of people and strum my guitar and sing.”
“I think that’s awesome.” He grins. “And I can’t wait to show off our harmonies. Because we kick fucking ass.”
“Of course we do.” I sober and link my fingers behind my head. “So, tell me straight. You don’t think it’s a bad idea?”
“I think it might be the best thing you’ve done for yourself since you quit the band.”
I nod thoughtfully, but then shake my head no. “This studio is the best thing I’ve done.”
“It’s a great thing, and it’s making us a shit-ton of money, and we love it, but I think the music, singing, is going to heal you. And I don’t think you’ve done that quite yet.”
“Have you?”
“I was never broken, friend. That was your journey. And it makes me fucking happy as hell to see you in this place, because I haven’t seen it in a long time, and I’ve missed it.”
“Feelings. No feelings.”
“Yeah, yeah. If you’ve finished being lazy, you can help me with this song. I can’t figure out the second verse.”
I stand and return to the piano, feeling better after hashing the Seduction gig over with Max. He’s right. I need it.
“We talked about the second verse building in intensity, and then falling abruptly at the end. That’ll make the chorus that much more powerful, remember?”
“That’s right,” he says and swears under his breath as he erases what he wrote earlier. “You think you’re so damn smart.”
I smirk. I’m not smart, or special. I just know music.
Chapter Three
Addison
“This asparagus wasn’t grilled long enough,” Mia announces and wrinkles her cute nose. Since she’s not in the kitchen tonight, her long, dark hair is loose around her shoulders and down her back in long, natural curls. Her makeup is done and her curvy body is rocking in a fun little outfit. Riley grabs Mia’s hand and shakes her head.
“You’re not going in the kitchen tonight,” she says with authority, making the rest of us smile. “We’re having fun.”
“I know,” Mia replies and takes a deep breath. “I’m holding myself back. But I’ll be having another meeting with my chefs on Monday. I wish I could work every day, all day.”
“You’d kill yourself, and we won’t allow that,” Cami says and takes a bite from her plate. “Does anyone else find it ironic that we’re all sitting here, eating aphrodisiacs, and not one of us is getting laid tonight?”
We’re sitting at the table right in front of the stage, eating dinner, waiting for Jake to show up. When the rest of the girls found out that I’d hired Jake to be the weekend entertainment, you’d have thought we were fifteen again. So of course we’re all here, front and center, for his opening night.
And we’re all dressed to the nines.
Because I hired Jake freaking Knox.
I mean, Jake Keller.
“Two girls got very lucky last night,” I reply, the words still bitter in my mouth.
“Okay, I didn’t hear the story yet,” Kat says and sips her wine.
“Yes, tell it again,” Mia says. “And then I’ll add the part where I’m going to rip Jeremy’s balls out.”
“It’s just the typical story,” I begin. “I went home early last night, and walked into the house to find him fucking two girls in my living room.”
Riley’s eyes narrow. “I never liked him.”
“What did you do?” Cami asks and adjusts her silver, shimmery tank top.
“Well, by the time they finally noticed me standing there, I’d had time to go from shock to sadness to blinding rage, so I just smiled politely—”
“Uh-oh, that’s never a good sign,” Cami mutters.
“And I told them all to get the fuck out of my house.”
“And Jeremy?” Kat asks.
“Jeremy tried to make excuses, but I just stared at him, impassively—”
“Another bad sign,” Mia adds.
“And told him that I never wanted to see his disgusting, small-dicked, cheating face again. And he left.”
Of course, I don’t mention that I curled up into a ball on my bed and cried for a few hours, and questioned myself and why men seem to think it’s okay to walk all over me like a doormat.
Because no one will ever see that side of me.
“My man picker is broken,” I announce and take a big bite of roasted grape and brie crostini with honey and sea salt and immediately—and silently—praise Mia’s culinary genius. “Which is fine, because I’m done with men.”
“It’s not broken, it’s off-kilter,” Riley says with a smile. “Maybe you need a break from men for a while. You didn’t take much time after the split with Craig before Jeremy got his meat hooks into you.”
I frown, surprised that the ache that used to come when someone mentioned Craig’s name isn’t there anymore.
“I still want to punch Craig,” Kat mutters into her glass. “I was pulling for him.”
“Another musician,” Riley says with a shrug. “Granted, one that we all thought was a descent human being, and was with you for the better part of eight years, but still. A musician.”
“It was never going to work out with Craig,” I reply with a sigh. “Even though we both tried for a long time. Longer than we should have. I’m needy. I want to be with a man on a regular basis, not just hear their voice over the phone, and he was always touring.”
“You’ll find a non-musician, non–bad boy,” Mia says with confidence.
“Yes, for the love of all that’s holy, stop dating the bad boys,” Cami adds. “Although, with the outfit you’re wearing, you’ll attract every boy—bad or otherwise—in a ten-mile radius.”
I glance down at my black skinny jeans, red camisole, and black leather vest, then back at Cami. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“Not one thing,” Kat replies with a grin. “And those red heels are to die for. Not to mention the red streaks in your hair.”
“You never look the same two days in a row,” Riley says. “I love it.”
I shrug. “The way I look doesn’t seem to have anything to do with men being faithful to me.”
“That’s because you pick idiots.” Mia takes another bite of asparagus and frowns at her fork.
“I know what you need,” Riley announces. “You need a sexcation man.”
I swallow the wine in my mouth and frown at my friend. “A what?”
“You need to find a guy that you can just call up like once a month and go see him—”
“But he doesn’t live here,” Cami adds, surprising the hell out of me. “You have to travel to see him.”
“Right, because you don’t need him to be hanging around, mooching off of you, or generally just annoying the hell out of you,” Kat says with a nod.
“Exactly,” Riley says and grins. “So, he lives in like Seattle or maybe San Francisco, ’cause that’s just a short flight. And you go see him for a couple days, have a lot of crazy sex, then come home and get back to your life. Everyone’s happy. No strings.”
I feel like I’m watching some sort of sports game as I look from friend to friend, trying to follow this crazy conversation.
And it’s even crazier because I kind of like this idea.
“But he can’t be a musician,” Mia adds.
“No way,” I reply, getting into the spirit. “Been there, regretted that. But he has to have a good job. A really good job. And he’s really smart.”
“And knows his way around the bedroom,” Kat says.
“Or bathroom. Water play is fun,” Mia adds.
“Or balcony,” Riley says, raising her glass in salute.
I can’t stop laughing. Oh my God, these girls are so funny.
“This is why we’re friends,” I say, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. “Also, he has to have awesome abs. Like, abs for days. And maybe blond hair. Blue eyes. Green? No, blue.”
I’m babbling now, and the girls are all smiling, but just watching me, letting me ramble.
“I like tattoos, but they’re not a deal breaker. He has to be tall. Taller than me for sure. And he can do this thing with his—”
I glance up and notice Cami look over my shoulder and smile wider and I stop midsentence.
“Oh God. Who’s behind me?”
“Hi, Jake,” Mia says and wiggles her fingers in a wave.
I drop my chin to my chest and mutter, “Fuck me.”
Suddenly, warm lips are next to my ear, and Jake whispers, “Yes, I think that’s what would be involved in this sexcation thing.”
Kat snorts and I do my best to pull my dignity around me, along with my big-girl panties, and clear my throat.
“Hello, Jake.” I stand and gesture to the girls around the table. “You remember Kat from the other day.”
Kat waves hello.
“This is Mia, our master chef.” Mia smiles.
“Cami is our CPA, and Riley is in charge of marketing and publicity. And the five of us are all co-owners of Seduction.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. You’re an intimidating bunch, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Riley asks.
“Gorgeous, intelligent, powerful.” Jake shrugs. “Pretty amazing.”
“I like him,” Kat says. “He can stay.”
Jake winks at her, and I turn to lead him away. He’s charming. And looks better than anyone should in his torn jeans and simple gray T-shirt. The tattoos on his arms are just . . . God. And his body is firm.
Get a grip, Addison!
“This is a pretty simple setup,” I begin, glancing over my shoulder to make sure he’s following me, and catch him eyeing my ass. “Don’t look at my ass.”
Listen to Me Page 3