Kiss Talent Agency Boxed Set (Books 1-6)

by Virna DePaul

  That same bastard now reaches forward to press the elevator button, and I get a good whiff of his scent again; less soap now, and more a potent combination of sandalwood and apples.

  Dreamy. Just downright dreamy. I can’t help but close my eyes as I inhale.

  I shake my head quickly. No, there will be none of that. It doesn’t matter that he’s handsome and cocky in the most irresistible way. It doesn’t matter that he smells good and is obviously rich. All that matters is Chad, and what’s best for his future, and unless Hunter Kiss can convince me that going pro before he graduates college is it, he and I have only just begun to battle.

  Remembering that I’d been the one to literally throw the opening salvo, I mentally wince. I glance over at him. There’s a slight, darkening bruise at the edge of his left eye. I tell myself I already apologized numerous times, but I really want to apologize again. The only thing that stops me is the knowledge I can’t show weakness, not where Chad is concerned.

  The elevator flashes open. We’re both silent as we enter the boxed space. When the doors close, we’re left staring at ourselves in the mirrored doors. My eyes drift to the side, taking in the sight that is him. Underneath the harsh elevator lights, his jawline is even more refined, and seemingly not a single damn hair is out of place. His skin is flawless, and he’s built with just the right amount of muscle and leanness.

  His eyes find mine in the mirror, catching me in the act.

  I clear my throat. “This is a very nice complex.”

  “Are you hitting on me again?” he smirks.

  “Wh-what? I never hit on you!” He is so annoyingly arrogant.

  “No? I seem to remember you getting me out of my towel.”

  “You—I mean, that wasn’t my fault…” I feel myself blushing. How does he do it? He’s so arrogant, but so damn charming at the same time. I hate feeling so flustered around him. Get it together, you have to keep the upper hand...if not for yourself then for Chad.

  He shrugs and purses his sweet, pretty lips. “It’s okay. I kind of liked how your eyes devoured me when I was naked. If you want me to shed my suit, no need to hit me; just ask.”

  “Oh my God, full of yourself much?” I roll my eyes and shake my head. On the outside, I try to remain unmoved. On the inside, I’m a bundle of guilt and wanton urges. I decide to focus on the guilt and thus am unable to keep my apology at bay any longer. “Again, I really am sorry for hurting you. I feel terrible about it.”

  He looks to me with something stirring in his eyes.

  “Yeah?” Suddenly, he presses the stop button and the elevator jerks as we come to a sudden halt. “I know how you can make it up to me.”

  “What are you doing?” I swallow a nervous lump in my throat.

  “Showing you how you can make it up to me. You ever heard of seven minutes in heaven?”

  “No,” I lie.

  He looks at me chidingly but plays along. “It’s a stupid game where teenagers throw two hornballs into a closet together and lock their asses up for seven minutes with the goal of sexual fireworks exploding. Usually all that happens is awkward breathing, and then everyone lies and says they hit whatever base they think sounds cool.”

  “We’re not twelve,” I feel the need to point out, but I can’t discern if he’s being serious or not.

  “And something tells me I won’t need seven minutes to hit all your bases.” He bites his lower lip. Sweet Jesus, why do I find this—why do I find him—so damn sexy right now? “I only need sixty seconds to make you scream.”

  I just about melt into the damn floor, feeling as if my entire being could turn into a pile of goo. This is not who I am. I am a strong, independent woman and I will not melt for anyone.

  My guard goes up. “You can’t handle me,” I say, trying to sound strong. I cannot show him that he’s getting to me. I glare at him, hoping he’s buying the act.

  He takes a measured step toward me. His eyes lock with mine. My mind flashes to his naked body. His rock hard—with rippling abs and that sexy vee that most men can’t achieve—body.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” he whispers into my ear, causing my entire body to tingle with anticipation.

  Damn, he called my bluff. He leans a little closer. His wonderful scent hits me.

  And I melt. For a moment, I forget where I am or who I'm with. I forget about Chad. Instead, I remember how Hunter looked naked. How he swelled while I was looking at him.

  I remember my needs, needs I've been neglecting for far too long.

  Before I know it, I’m trembling and breathing hard, and I actually tilt my head back and close my eyes in preparation for his kiss. I can no longer fight my attraction to him, and with him so close, it was only a matter of time anyway.

  My eyes pop open when he bursts out laughing. “I’m just fucking with you.”

  I’m not proud of what happens next. It’s instinct or more likely the fact that I’m horrified that I fell for his game. I’m itching to slap him but somehow I control that tendency and…

  “I don’t have much of an appetite,” he grumbles as we walk down the busy early sidewalk. He rubs his ear, which I squeezed quite hard moments before, and glances at me with a frown. “You really ought to see someone about your anger issues.”

  “Don’t be such a baby,” I reply. Despite the fact that I pinched his ear like some curmudgeonly aunt, I can’t help but feel he’s laying it on a little thick. Still, he might be right. I have been so angry lately. Angry at my dad. Angry at myself for my fears about Chad. Even angry at Chad, which makes no sense. When I feel the sting of unshed tears, I blink quickly.

  Then I recognize the man and woman walking toward us.

  “Shit,” I exclaim and try to duck for cover, but it’s too late.

  In front of me, Taylor Ballard smirks, and my heart sinks.

  Hunter glances at me and then at Taylor, and when he looks back at me, understanding seems to light his eyes. He throws one arm around my neck and pulls me in close, holding me safe and secure as we pace closer and closer to my ex and his new wife. Just as we’re about to pass them, Hunter plants a soft kiss against the side of my head, and I let out a forced grin of happiness. When Taylor’s wife looks at Hunter admiringly, I feel my grin become more genuine.

  Taylor frowns and then just as soon as he appeared, he’s gone. I’m met with equal parts relief and sadness, relief because at least that douchebag will mistakenly believe I’m happy, and sadness because I’m obviously still bothered by the breakup—or rather, the reason for the breakup—no matter how long ago it was.

  But I hate showing emotions, especially to someone like Hunter, so I break away from his touch. “Um…Thanks for that.”

  “No problem.” He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks, playing the part of the cool guy. “He was an ex?”

  “He’s in the past.” I bow my head. “And that’s all that matters.”

  He just studies me, like he’s thinking before speaking for once.

  “What?” I groan.

  “Nothing.” He shakes his head with a light chuckle. “It’s just nice to know that somewhere deep down in the vast reaches of your dark soul, you have a heart.”

  “Funny,” I scoff, just as I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I retrieve the phone and it’s a message from Eve, the receptionist at the tattoo shop where I work. Someone showed up needing a tattoo repair, is basically hysterical, and is willing to pay big bucks for me to come back early from lunch for a consultation. In fact, it’s such an exorbitant amount that there’s no way I can turn it down. Chad got a full scholarship for college, but I still try to give him extra spending money, plus I’m saving to open my own tattoo shop one day. “Shit,” I grumble and come to a dead stop on the sidewalk. “I’m going to have to postpone this meeting.”

  “Seriously?” He arches one brow and turns to me. “You made me walk all the way down here.”

  “Relax. We’ve gone two blocks.”

  “What’s so
important that you’re just going to run off?”

  “I know you might not get what I’m about to say, but some of us have to work for a living.” I know he works for a living—his job is the whole reason I came to see him—but with his fancy apartment and car, he obviously has enough money he could probably be retired by now. I shove my phone back into my pocket. “I have a client needing a tattoo repair done ASAP.”

  “You’re a tattoo artist?” He nods. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense since you like inflicting pain.”

  “Stop it.” I shoot daggers with my eyes. “When is a good time to meet again?”

  “Anxious, are we?”

  “Anxious for you to convince me why I should trust you with my brother’s future. If you fail to do that, you’re going to leave my brother alone.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand.

  “Hell no.” He leans against the brick building beside us, and crosses his arm. “In the end, it’s your brother’s decision. But at least you can say you earned your disdain for me legitimately.” He pauses briefly, his eyes studying me. “Isn’t there any part of you that’s afraid you might be wrong?”

  There is. Despite his good looks and cocky attitude, I have done my research, and my research tells me Chad should be thanking his lucky stars that Kiss Talent Agency and Hunter Kiss specifically are interested in signing him. But it’s going to take more than hearsay to convince me. “Look, let’s just see what happens, okay?”

  “So long as you don’t hurt me again. But what am I worried about? Once you get to know me better, you’re going to love me.”

  I just shake my head. “My God, you’re arrogant.”

  “I’m also right. Just you wait and see.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Really? You’re that convinced?”

  “Yup.”

  His sheer arrogance has me looking him over for any sign of weakness but all I notice is how scrumptious and clean-cut he looks. No piercings. No tattoos anywhere on his body (which I know because I have seen all of his body, thank you Lord). Almost everyone I know has at least one tattoo (except for Chad, who’s afraid of needles), and since Hunter’s skin is virgin-pure I smile wickedly. “How about we place a little bet then? Just for fun?”

  He has the good sense to look cautious. “What kind of bet?”

  “If after our talk you haven’t won me over to the degree I give my brother the thumbs up to sign with you…” I snicker, thinking about all the possibilities. “You have to let me tattoo something on you. My choice.”

  “What?” He jerks back away from the wall. “What do you think I am, crazy?”

  “You doubting your powers to win me over?” I taunt, taking a step toward him.

  “I’m doubting the sanity of a woman who comes to a man’s apartment, throws a phone at him, then pinches his ear,” he shoots back.

  “Okay fine. I’ll let you approve the design. How about that?”

  “No. Why mar something that’s already perfect, right?”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine. No betting.”

  He shrugs. “Either way, I’m signing your brother. Plus…”

  Now I’m the one looking at him with concern. “What?”

  He shrugs again. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll take your bet after all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Depending on what you’d be willing to give me when you lose the bet, well, I might be willing to take the chance. I know what I’d ask for.”

  When I say nothing (I’m too busy imagining all the things he’d ask for and all the things I’d happily give him), he coos, “Not going to take the bait? Or do you want me to tell you? Because I’d be happy to, in graphic detail.”

  “I just bet you would,” I mutter. “As I said before, I’m not your type, but you’re not exactly my type either.”

  “What type is that?”

  “I like a man who’s inked. Pierced. Dirtied up a bit.”

  “Keep telling yourself that, Ms. Cross. But we both know you want to see me naked again. And I definitely want to see you naked. Preferably when you’re splayed out underneath me and taking my cock.”

  My jaw drops open. “You—you…”

  He chucks me lightly underneath my chin. “We’ll talk soon,” he says with a wink, then walks away.

  4

  Hunter

  Shooting the shit, shooting the breeze. Call it whatever, but it’s my favorite part of the day, when the guys at Kiss Talent and I all assemble together to talk business first, and then life second. There’s no stress, no worries in the world. It’s just conversation between four men, a mix of brothers and cousins, who grew up together and started one of the nation’s top talent agencies.

  Kiss Talent is known for our sports management division, but the company has been steadily branching out and focusing on all aspects of agent representation. Our current roster of clients includes everyone from star athletes to actors to music celebs.

  It’s never been an easy road, but it’s a journey that I’ve been extremely proud of. Through long nights and power struggles, we’ve somehow managed to rise to the top of the game.

  We’re all in a small conference room, seated around a table. Beside me is my cousin, who I only met last year, when his mother confronted my uncle’s wife about their affair and the product of that affair. My brothers and I were born into money, into a life of luxury under the watchful eye of my powerful and wealthy father. Luke’s path couldn’t have been more different. He grew up poor in a small town about thirty minutes south of Austin, and through hard work and dedication worked his way to the top.

  On the opposite side of the table are my two brothers. While I focus my attention on sports management, and Luke focuses on musical talent, Declan works with on-screen talent, and Owen works with writers, directors, photographers and other creatives.

  Declan is the tallest of us, and he likes to hold it over our heads. He’s a former model and even booked a few small television roles before deciding he was better suited behind the cameras. Owen and I have similar builds, fit and lean, but Luke is bulky, to the point where many strangers mistakenly believe he’s a bodyguard or MMA fighter.

  “I’m heading to Nashville first thing in the morning,” Luke says. “I’ll probably be gone for at least a week.”

  “Pretty little young thing catch your attention?” Declan questions with a sly wink. “Does this pretty little thing have a single pretty little friend?”

  “Hardly. Just checking in with Sam Ketting,” Luke chuckles, “but I’m sure he knows a few women.”

  “Damn shame,” I say. “If I weren’t so busy with Chad Cross, I’d love to accompany you on this adventure. God knows I love Nashville women.”

  Luke frowns. “What happened to Cross’s contract being a done deal?”

  “There’s been some complications.”

  “I’ve seen that look before,” Owen snorts. “Your attention is being diverted by a woman. If you want me to sub in, you can take my new client.”

  “Seriously?” I arch one brow. “The model from Utah? What’s the matter? You afraid you’re going to violate our non-fraternizing clause?”

  “Have you seen her? And her two little friends sitting just beneath her perfect face?”

  I drift in thought, thinking about Dani, her gorgeous two friends, and the way they tend to bounce and jiggle when she turns. When she walks. When she breathes heavy. Which I’m proud to say, seemed to happen quite a lot when we were together. The guys continue to talk around me, but I can’t make out exactly what they’re saying. I also don’t care. I’m too lost in the fantasy of touching Dani, caressing her, being inside of her.

  Thank God she’s not a prospective client, so I won’t be violating our rule disallowing fraternization with anyone we represent. Though now that I think about it, we really shouldn’t fraternize with the family of clients either, but I’m sure as hell not bringing that up. Besides, I’m not one to follow rules, even if they’re rules I’ve created for myself.

&n
bsp; Life is much more exciting living on the edge.

  Chad hasn’t called in a few days, and neither has Dani. Things have been conspicuously quiet on that front lately, and I’m starting to get a little worried after having left three or four messages for Chad to call me back.

  I’m not exactly used to being in a position where I have to chase down anyone. Not like in the beginning. It’s all the more alarming because I never for a second believed signing Chad was going to be a hard sell. In my mind, it’s been a done-deal since the day I first began scouting him.

  And then along came Dani Cross.

  Fucking Christ. She’s such a damn pain in my ass on one hand, but an alluring possibility on the other. There’s something about her that makes me not care about having to work harder than usual. The most important thing is signing Chad, not only because he’s going to make me millions, but because I legitimately want to help shoot him into the sports world stratosphere.

  But I also want to banter more with Dani.

  I want to do a lot of things with her.

  But most of all, I want to find out how she looks naked and underneath me as I fuck her, her breast jiggling, her mouth open and screaming my name as I make her come harder than she ever has before.

  5

  Hunter

  Before leaving the office, I call Dani again, planning to give her shit for ignoring my calls and not returning my messages, but she’s apparently intent on denying me that pleasure. As a last resort, I decide to track her down and confront her face to face. It’s not hard. All I have to do is type her name into a search engine, and I have the name of the shop where she works, Skyn Ink, located on the opposite end of downtown.

  When I climb out of my car, however, I begin to feel nervous. Ridiculous. I’m not a nervous person. I’m a strong ass, confident alpha male. I pull myself together on the outside, but inside my head is racing as I make my way down the street and to her shop.