Pleasure at Midnight ; His Pick for Passion

by Pamela Yaye

  His hands closed around her waist, enveloping her in a hug, and Roderick pulled her so close to his chest she could feel his heart beating through his shirt.

  Caught up in the moment, Geneviève brushed her mouth against his. It was supposed to be an innocent peck on the lips, a simple act of gratitude for her hero, but when their lips touched desire flooded her body and she deepened the kiss. Passion burned inside her, thrilling her flesh. His mouth was warm, flavored with spices, leaving her desperate for more.

  Roderick pulled away, abruptly ending the kiss, and dropped his hands to his sides.

  Wow, that was some kiss! Geneviève thought, struggling to catch her breath.

  “It’s getting late,” he pointed out, gesturing to his designer watch. “I should take you back to the hotel so you don’t miss your radio interview at Hits 100 FM.”

  Geneviève was worried about facing her attacker, but nodded in agreement. Gathering herself, she raised her chin and pinned her shoulders back. Her heart was beating in double time, racing out of control, but Geneviève put on her game face. Willed herself to be strong. She couldn’t let anyone know she was shaken and scared. Forcing a smile, she exited the washroom with her head held high, blinking away the tears in her eyes.

  * * *

  Geneviève marched through the sliding glass doors, projecting confidence. Favored by dignitaries, foreign diplomats and British royalty, the five-star hotel in the heart of Madrid had world-class amenities, a rooftop track and picturesque views of the cosmopolitan city. Trendsetters, tourists and hand-holding couples packed the main floor, but when Geneviève entered the lobby she spotted Althea pacing in the waiting area, and groaned inwardly. Dressed in ivory from head to toe, she looked smart and sophisticated in a fitted business suit, ruffled blouse and patent pumps. Geneviève liked Althea’s designer attire, and wished her mom would wear more age-appropriate clothes.

  Geneviève glanced at the bronze wall clock hanging above the reception desk. The radio interview was in two hours, giving her ample time to shower and change, but Geneviève could tell by her mom’s furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips that she was upset, and hurried across the lobby toward her.

  Her insides quivered at the memory of the incident at the tapas bar. She’d driven back to the hotel in Roderick’s sports car, and although her bodyguards had followed behind them in a Hummer, she’d feared the goon from the bar would run them off the road. It was an irrational thought, but Geneviève couldn’t help thinking the worst.

  Geneviève increased her pace, reaching her mom at last. “Mom, is everything okay?”

  Relief washed over her face. “Where have you been? I must have called your cell a dozen times. Didn’t you get my messages?”

  Stepping back, Geneviève wrinkled her nose. Althea smelled of nicotine and hard liquor. She used to have a couple glasses of merlot with dinner, but these days it was one bottle after another. Althea was ranting and raving like a table-flipping housewife from New Jersey, drawing the attention of the distinguished-looking guests seated in the waiting area, but Geneviève spoke to her in a quiet, soothing voice.

  “Mom, calm down. I was having lunch with Roderick, and as you can see I’m perfectly fine.”

  As if noticing him for the first time, Althea’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. She made a noise in the back of her throat, a cross between a snort and a growl, and Geneviève feared her mom was going to make a scene in the lobby.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Althea jabbed Roderick in the chest with an index finger. “I told you to stay away from my daughter, and I meant it. Leave her alone, or I’ll fire you.”

  “Ms. Harris, it’s obvious you’re upset, but this isn’t the time or the place to air your frustrations,” Roderick said in a stern voice. “And I’d hate for you to embarrass yourself, or your beautiful daughter in the most expensive hotel in Madrid.”

  Impressed, Geneviève raised an eyebrow. He’d successfully defused the situation with Althea, which was no simple feat. Her mom was being mean, and if they weren’t in the hotel lobby, surrounded by the upper crust, Geneviève would put Althea in her place.

  “I’m staying in suite 1824,” he continued. “Feel free to stop by anytime to discuss my performance, the settlement case or anything else troubling you.”

  Althea flinched as if she’d been slapped, then dropped her hands to her sides.

  Geneviève wanted to give Roderick a high five for going toe-to-toe with Althea and winning. Her mom could intimidate someone with just one look, and had once reduced a record executive to tears after a blistering tongue-lashing. But not today. Roderick held his ground. Didn’t buckle under her dark, withering stare.

  Geneviève smiled at Roderick. She hoped he didn’t take offense to what Althea had said. Geneviève needed him. She valued his advice and his legal knowledge, and trusted him to tell her the truth. “Thanks for everything, Roderick. I owe you one.”

  “No worries. I’m just glad I could help.”

  The sympathetic expression on his face touched her heart. From time to time, Geneviève liked to disconnect from the world and leave everyone and everything behind, but she wished she could hang out with Roderick alone in her suite. Her jam-packed schedule, the incident at the bar and her fears about the future weighed heavily on her mind, and she wanted to vent to Roderick without her mom listening in. Deciding to text him later to arrange another lunch date before he left for New York, she met his gaze.

  “Knock ’em dead at Hits 100 FM.” Roderick gave a thumbs-up. “I’ll be hard at work in my suite, but I’ll make sure to tune in to your interview at six o’clock.”

  “Thanks for the support, and for lunch. I really enjoyed your company this afternoon.”

  “Likewise, Jennifer...”

  A dreamy sigh fell from her lips. Hearing her legal name come out of Roderick’s mouth gave Geneviève butterflies.

  “Hanging out with you was the highlight of my day, and I’m looking forward to doing it again soon. Just say when, and I’m all yours.”

  A nod, a wink and Roderick was gone. Oblivious to the world around her, she followed him with her gaze through the gleaming, sun-drenched lobby. Watching him march into the lounge with the air of a king, Geneviève couldn’t help thinking about that kiss they’d shared at the tapas bar. Had he enjoyed it? Wanted more? Or did he regret it? She didn’t. It was magical and, given the opportunity, Geneviève would do it again.

  “I don’t trust him—”

  “Mom, you don’t trust anyone.”

  “And for good reason. In the last three months alone, I’ve had to fire two vocal coaches and your personal trainer for selling fictitious stories about you to the tabloids, and my intuition is telling me that Roderick Drake is an opportunist.” Althea sucked her teeth. “You know how attorneys are. They’re liars who’ll say and do anything for the right price.”

  Eager to return to her suite, Geneviève gestured to Salvador and Felipe, and followed them to the private elevator, adjacent to the spa. She noticed people staring at her with wide eyes, and spotted guests shooting videos and snapping pictures of her. Feeling like an animal on display in a pet store window, Geneviève dropped her gaze to the floor and shielded her face with her hands.

  “Geneviève, I love you! Can you take a selfie with me? Please?”

  Hearing a small, fluting voice, Geneviève glanced over her shoulder. A chubby girl with pigtails was standing directly behind her. “Of course, sweetie,” she said brightly, waving the child over. “Come here.”

  Geneviève took a selfie with the girl and her British nanny, then signed their Real Madrid T-shirts. In a blink, she was surrounded by a loud, cheering crowd. Geneviève signed autographs, gave out hugs and posed for dozens of pictures. A teenager belted out the chorus of “Savage”, and Geneviève sang along. Laughed out loud as toddlers skipped and danced around. Snapped pictures of the crowd wit
h her iPhone. Geneviève adored her fans, and it was times like this, when she was surrounded by them, that she loved her life. Appreciated and valued everything she’d accomplished, and the people who’d helped her along the way.

  If you love your fans so much, then why did you threaten to cancel the rest of your tour? questioned her inner voice. And why are you itching to leave the music business behind?

  Geneviève swallowed hard. She thought for a moment, realized the truth was too painful to admit even to herself and buried the answer in the depths of her heart.

  “Gigi, let’s go. You have an interview to do in an hour, remember?”

  Tugging on her forearm, Althea urged her to board the elevator, but Geneviève moved closer to the crowd. Her mom was being jealous and controlling, and Geneviève was tired of arguing with Althea. It was her life, her decision. Besides, she needed something to cheer her up after her run-in with that madman at the tapas bar, and being with her fans instantly bolstered her spirits.

  “Bye, everyone! Gigi loves you! Thanks for the support!” Althea shouted above the noise.

  Reluctantly boarding the elevator, Geneviève smiled and waved at the cheering, animated group. The doors closed, and she leaned against the wall. A text popped up on her iPhone, and reading Roderick’s message made her giggle.

  Let’s hook up later. Swing by my suite after your radio interview for cocktails, dessert and an Antonio Banderas movie marathon. Come on! You know you love Shrek!

  “Quit playing on your phone, and listen to me,” Althea snapped. “This is important...”

  Frowning, she studied her mother. Althea was losing it. Getting worked up over nothing. She gestured wildly with her hands, and was speaking so fast Geneviève couldn’t get a word in.

  Blocking out her mother’s voice, Geneviève took a moment to consider Roderick’s offer. Hanging out with him sounded fun. They’d had a great time at lunch, and she wanted to hear more about his family, his background and his past relationships. Why not kick it with her handsome attorney after dark? She had nothing else to do, and liked the idea of spending time with him—and getting away from her mother for a few hours. Althea was having an attitude, and Geneviève feared what would happen if they were alone in her suite for the rest of the night.

  Feeling playful and giddy, she answered his text.

  Just make sure you have sweet and spicy wasabi popcorn, or I’m out!

  “Roderick has to go. I don’t like him,” Althea continued in a curt voice.

  “You don’t have to. He’s my attorney, not yours, and I trust him. He’s good people.”

  Her eyes bugged out of her head. “Oh really? You’ve had lunch with him, and now you think he’s the best thing since fat-free cheesecake. Well, he’s not. I know his type, and if you confide in him he’ll burn you just like all the others.”

  “Or not. It’s my decision, and I want to keep Roderick on staff. And if you fire him or call his law firm to complain, you’ll be looking for someone else to manage.”

  Althea gasped. “Jennifer Tyesha Harris! How dare you speak to me with such disrespect! Have you forgotten everything I’ve done for you over the years? How much I sacrificed to make you into the star you are today? Do I need to remind you of where we come from?”

  Geneviève stared down at her high heels so she wouldn’t have to see the pained expression on Althea’s face. Guilt made her feel low, and she deeply regretted disrespecting her mom.

  “When the applause fades and your fans disappear, I’ll still be here. Don’t ever forget that...”

  The doors slid open, and Geneviève followed behind her bodyguards. A pregnant woman waddled by, rubbing her baby bump, and the bearded man at her side pushed a pink stroller.

  Geneviève stared longingly at the couple. When is it going to be my turn? When am I going to find love and happiness? she wondered, admiring the family. Am I ever going to have a child, or am I just fooling myself? Wishing and praying in vain?

  “We’re a team, Gigi, and if you disobey me, you’ll live to regret it, so get rid of Roderick and hire someone else. Someone trustworthy and reliable who’ll do what they’re told.”

  At the sound of her mom’s voice, Geneviève abandoned her thoughts and raised an index finger in the air. “Give me one good reason why I should replace Roderick.”

  “Just one? Where do I begin?” Smiling triumphantly, Althea made her case. She complained about Roderick’s unprofessionalism, his cocksure attitude and his deceitful ways. “I told him not to bother you about the settlement case, but he went behind my back and contacted you anyways. Can you imagine? Such disrespect!”

  The wheels turned in Geneviève’s mind as she unlocked the door and marched inside the sunny, lavender-scented suite. Now she understood why her mom disliked Roderick. Why Althea was giving him a hard time. Why she wanted to fire him, and ship him back to New York on the red-eye. It wasn’t because Roderick was incompetent or unprofessional; it was because he’d dared to defy her. And that made Geneviève like Roderick even more.

  Chapter 7

  Cheers exploded inside the arena on Friday night, and Geneviève was so moved by the outpouring of love from the fans chanting her name all across WiZink Center that she didn’t want to leave the stage. She considered debuting her new song, “Hands on You,” even though her voice was hoarse, but she remembered that the chorus needed work, and decided against it.

  Waving at the crowd, Geneviève reveled in the moment, soaking in their praise and adoration. Children were crying, couples were dancing in the aisles, teenagers wearing I Love Geneviève T-shirts were screaming at the top of their lungs, and cell phones flashed all over the arena. Geneviève was proud of her performance and her kick-ass, all-female band. They’d wowed the audience, given them one hell of a show, and she planned to reward them for their hard work when they returned to the States.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Demi and Roderick waiting in the shadows, and wondered what they thought of her performance. As usual, her sister had her eyes glued to her iPhone, oblivious to the world around her. Roderick flashed a broad grin that made his eyes light up, and butterflies swarmed Geneviève’s stomach.

  Damn, he’s sexy! His denim shirt was open at the collar, enhancing his sex appeal, and his slim-fitted jeans and casual shoes complemented his stylish appearance. The attorney had the wow factor, and his inherent charm and charisma were undeniable. But what stood out most about Roderick was his kindness. And what a dynamic kisser he was. That’s why Geneviève had been flirting with him on the phone every night. And why she’d been sneaking around with him for the past five days.

  Fond memories warmed her heart. All week, she’d been hanging out with Roderick, and aside from Demi, no one knew about their secret rendezvous. Geneviève would have been perfectly content relaxing in his suite, eating junk food and watching telenovelas, but Roderick insisted on taking her out on the town. At his request, she’d ditched her bodyguards, her iPhone and her beloved baseball cap.

  Every date with Roderick was a thrilling adventure, and an opportunity to experience something new. On Tuesday they’d explored museums filled with historic masterpieces and sculptures, on Wednesday they’d strolled through markets and high-end boutiques buying souvenirs and, last night, they’d traveled from one tapas bar to the next, drinking, socializing and sampling the local cuisine. That morning, Roderick had persuaded her to join him in the hotel restaurant for breakfast, and what should have been a quick meal lasted three hours. If Demi hadn’t come calling, she’d probably still be sitting on the deck with Roderick, discussing pop culture and the music business.

  The sound of foreign languages yanked Geneviève out of her thoughts.

  “Geneviève, te amo!”

  “Tu es le meilleur!”

  “Du bist ein star, Geneviève!”

  “Encore, encore, encore! Give us one more song!”

>   Exhausted and thirsty, Geneviève was anxious to return to her private dressing room, but she decided to spend a few more minutes with her fans. Crouching down in the first row, Geneviève signed T-shirts, magazine covers bearing her image, homemade posters and even ticket stubs. She posed for pictures and selfies, and the crowd lost its mind, cheering louder than ever before. It was the perfect way to end the show, and when her band members whisked her offstage, Geneviève thought her heart would burst with joy.

  After two decades in the spotlight, she was ready for the next chapter of her life, but Geneviève was going to miss connecting with her fans, hearing them sing her songs and seeing their faces light up every time she took the stage. She’d never reveal the truth to anyone, not even Demi, but she wanted to disappear to a private island where no one—including the paparazzi and her mother—would ever be able to find her.

  “Gigi, you were amazing!” Looking sporty and athletic in a white, knee-length dress, canvas sneakers and a baseball cap, Demi swiveled her neck and snapped her fingers in the air. “I’ve seen you perform hundreds of times, and I didn’t think you could outdo yourself, but the acapella version of ‘For All the Wrong Reasons’ was fire!”

  Roderick kissed Geneviève on the cheek, then handed her a bouquet of carnations. “I agree.”

  Desire warmed her skin. She wanted to kiss him, to hold him close, but since Geneviève didn’t want her band or anyone else backstage to know she had a crush on her attorney, she said, “Thanks. I’m just glad there were no mishaps during the show. I hate when that happens.”

  “Let’s celebrate with a sister selfie!” Demi lobbed an arm around Geneviève’s shoulder, raised her iPhone in the air and snapped multiple photographs. “Smile, Gigi! You should be happy. You killed tonight, and you looked fierce doing it!”

  Geneviève blew out a deep breath. “Don’t post these. I’m sweaty and gross—”

  “Sis, relax, they’re pictures, not stickers,” Demi said, giggling. “No one can smell them.”