by JC Cassels
“She’s been going around telling everyone that you were such a breath of fresh air and how refreshing it was to entertain a real man for a change instead of some overbred noble.”
“She said that?”
Bo nodded.
Chase let out a low whistle. “No pressure there, huh?”
He tossed a smile and a nod over his shoulder at the two women. All three of them collapsed into a fit of the giggles. Bo clung to his arm as she struggled for control.
“I don’t want to know, do I?”
Bo shook her head.
In no time, they reached the tent set aside for media interviews. With a quiet word to the official-looking duo who tried to stop them, Chase escorted Bo and her cousins into the waiting area beside the impromptu studio.
Bo’s breath caught at the sight of him. A slow smile touched her lips. No man had the right to be that good looking. In the glare of bright lights that would have rendered her blind, Blade Devon looked cool and relaxed in his racing leathers as he chatted amicably with the interviewer. The only thing about him that looked at all scruffy was his unruly blond hair, just a shade too long and more than a little windblown. Looking closer, she noticed that his leathers bore a fine coating of dirt.
She whispered to Chase as they edged through the crowd of technicians and spectators. “He was riding earlier?”
“They wanted some secondary footage of him riding,” he said. “They’ll edit it in later.” Chase shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s common practice.”
“Did you ever have to go through all this?”
“This? You mean interviews?” A slow grin broke across his face. “Some…but not like this.” He nodded meaningfully at his brother. “I’m not Blade Devon. Dev has been at this since first light.”
Chase stopped against the ropes holding spectators at a safe distance. He’d maneuvered them through the crowd and into a good position to watch Blade unleash his charm on the interviewer and the holocams recording his every action.
Like a starving woman her eyes devoured him, drinking in every detail. The days he’d spent getting prepped for the course in the unrelenting desert sun had darkened his skin in startling contrast to his blue eyes, the same smoky gray as Gallic bluestone from the Highlands in which she’d grown up. Her gaze traced the curve of his brow, his high, prominent cheekbones, the line of his jaw – not quite as square as his brother’s, but longer – to the barest hint of a cleft in his chin. He laughed at something the interviewer said, showing a pair of matched dimples that sent Bo’s innards into a barrel roll.
Behind her, one of her cousins sighed.
“Bald and fat my foot,” Tese whispered. “He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”
Bo nodded. “My thoughts exactly.”
As if sensing her attention on him, Blade glanced past the interviewer. Their eyes locked. For an instant, Bo forgot to breathe. The slow smile that spread across his face was only for her. Her lips parted and she lowered her gaze briefly. Feeling Blade’s attention like a physical caress, she peered back up at him. His grin widened.
“I told you he’d be happy to see you,” Chase whispered.
“Well, what are we waiting for,” Gena whispered. “Let’s go say hello.”
Bo arched an eyebrow at her. “He’s in the middle of an interview.”
“So?” Gena’s dark eyes twinkled with merriment. “We’re Kiara. It’ll be fun.” She sidled closer to the rope barricade separating the onlookers from the set. “Come on.”
“Gena, no…”
CHAPTER TWO
If someone didn’t come up with an original question soon, Blade couldn’t be held responsible for his actions.
Resisting the urge to check his chrono, he smiled pleasantly and contrived to look as engaged as possible. It wouldn’t have done him any good. He’d left his chrono back in his tent. Experience had taught him that he’d eventually break down and look at it, and as soon as he did, the media would be all over the simple act, spinning it for their own purposes into boredom with his career, his love life, the race, you name it. In the long run, it was easier to leave it behind.
Even if he hadn’t been at it for the better part of the day, the endless interviews would still have been tedious. He could do them without the interviewers if he had to. They were all pretty much interchangeable, and they asked the same insipid questions over and over. Entertainment reporters were the worst. At least the sports reporters asked about the race. Entertainment reporters were mostly interested in sensationalism and gossip.
“What drew you to the Catarrh?”
“The challenge of it,” Blade said. “There’s nothing like pushing body and machines to the limits of what they’re capable of. That’s how you find your limitations – by pushing yourself beyond them. This race does that like nothing else. There’s not a lot out there for adrenaline junkies like myself that involves hovercycles and exotic locales.”
“Do you think you can win?”
“That depends on how you define winning.”
“How do you define winning?”
“Not dying in a fiery crash would be a good start,” Blade said, laughing.
Taking advantage of the interviewer’s distraction as she laughed and made soothing comments about his apparent indestructibility, his eye roamed the crowd of onlookers, homing in on his brother. Chase towered over the mostly female crowd pressing against the ropes. When he caught his brother’s eye, Chase nodded towards his left. Following his silent urging, Blade’s gaze slid past him, settling on the one person he wanted to see.
Until that moment, he hadn’t believed she would show. Bo avoided these high profile events like a bad date. Not this time. Price on her head be damned. She’d come anyway.
Behind the veil, her face pinkened and she looked away. His grin widened as she lifted her beautiful amber eyes to meet his again. Maker, she was gorgeous – and she was his.
The dark-skinned beauty beside her said something that sent Bo’s every muscle into alert. She visibly tensed and the willowy woman on her other side slipped her arm through Bo’s. Working in tandem like a slinky force of nature, one deftly unhooked the edge of the rope barrier, only to reconnect it once Bo and the other woman had come through. Bo looked helplessly to Chase, who hid his amusement behind his hand. Ignoring her protests, the two women dragged her forward. Bo turned her pleading gaze to him.
“Oh Blade…” the shorter woman cooed as she stepped into the pool of lights. “We come bearing gifts.”
Breaking into his trademark lopsided smile, he rose from his stool and held out his hand to her. “I like gifts,” he said.
The petite, curvaceous one sidled up to him, maneuvering his arm around her. She lifted her face for a kiss. He didn’t disappoint her, brushing a quick kiss to her cheek. The tall one with pink-streaked brown hair dragged Bo up to his other side, while the interviewer sputtered and called to her producer for advice. In the confusion, the taller one nudged Bo closer to him and deftly moved her veil, baring her face to him. Bo’s blush ended any chance he’d had of remaining detached. Blade abandoned any attempt at maintaining polite decorum. Taking advantage of everyone’s distraction, he gently cupped her cheek.
“Hello, love,” he said softly.
Leaning down, he took his time kissing her, filling his senses with her. He breathed deeply, drawing in the subtle, sweet fragrance that was uniquely hers as he nuzzled the scarf covering her hair.
“Maker, I have missed you,” he whispered. Reluctantly, he tugged her veil, flipping it back into place over her face. With his hand on her shoulder, he gently nudged her away from him.
He glanced at the interviewer, taking in her interest and the piqued interest of the crowd. If he hadn’t had a dozen or more holocams turned on him at the moment, along with all the accompanying microphones, he would have groaned in dismay: if he sent Bo back into that crowd, the women there would rip her to pieces. He had to think.
To buy himself a lit
tle time, he reached for the willowy young woman who had dragged Bo to him. “Thank you,” he whispered as he brushed a quick kiss to her cheek.
She caught his face in both hands and pulled him back down for a more thorough kiss. The crowd hooted in approval. She rubbed up against him. Her technique was very good…very practiced…and it left him cold. When she finally released him, he winked at her and turned back to Bo.
She looked a bit shell-shocked by the lights and the holocams. She stared so intently at the lighting truss that flooded the impromptu studio with light that he doubted she’d noticed her friend kissing him.
He gently grasped her elbow and helped her onto his stool. From behind the veil, she shot him a grateful smile.
“You know, this is one of the reasons my brother Chase and I were deported from the Shi’bang race last season,” he said off-handedly. “The Minister of Virtue deemed us too handsome. He was afraid their women wouldn’t be able to resist our wicked charms.”
Bo rolled her eyes, but made no comment. She’d had plenty to say back when it had happened; mostly derogatory comments about his ego. He grinned at the thought of what might be going through her head. He’d bet it was a lot more interesting than anything the interviewer had come up with so far. He slipped his arm around Bo and gave her a reassuring squeeze to keep her from bolting into the crowd.
“I’ve never been big on virtue.” Slipping into character, Blade donned a lazy grin and looked back to the interviewer. “I’m more partial to vice.”
The taller of Bo’s friends sidled up to his other side and pressed against him.
“And what a delicious vice you are,” she said.
The curvy one giggled and slipped her arm around her friend’s waist. She too leaned closer to him, coyly fingering the front of his jacket. “Perhaps you should take to wearing a veil in public.”
Bo stifled an unladylike snort behind her hand and Blade laughed along with the crowd.
Still stunned, the interviewer stammered, trying to come up with the next question.
Blade winked at the interviewer. “Thank the Maker, Catarrh doesn’t have a Ministry of Virtue otherwise I might find myself deported…again.”
The crowd laughed again. Bo pressed closer to him, trying to burrow into his side. Anxiety radiated off her in waves. She chafed under the lights and the holocams. If he didn’t do something quickly to end the interview, no telling what she’d do to escape the attention focused on her.
“I’m sorry,” Blade said. He nodded towards Bo. “This is my companion, Marissa.” He looked to Tese. “And you are?”
“I’m Tese and she’s Gena,” Tese said. “We’re Marissa’s cousins.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “Three women. It’s been a while, but I think I remember the mechanics of it. I’m going to have to make sure I stretch first.” He looked directly into the holocam with the red light shining above it and conjured a slow, lopsided grin. “Don’t want to sprain anything.”
Tese trailed a well-manicured finger along his jaw, drawing his attention. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it,” she said with a saucy wink. “We’re very well trained in those kinds of mechanics. All you have to do is enjoy the ride.”
Gena laughed as the crowd hooted in bawdy approval.
The interviewer shook her head. “Perhaps the Minister of Virtue wasn’t so completely off the mark.” A resigned smile played about her lips. “I can’t use any of this,” she said rising from her stool. “The censors would never let it be transmitted.” She offered her hand to Blade. “Good luck in the race tomorrow. Try not to pull a muscle between now and then.”
Blade thanked her and made all the polite noises the media expected after an interview. Techs swarmed in from behind the lights and holocams, descending on them like ravenous locusts. He released Bo and met them halfway, providing a buffer between her and the techs who bustled around the cramped set resetting lights, holocams, and microphones.
This kind of activity tended to make her jumpy. She mistrusted anyone invading his or her personal space with such single-minded intent. The first time she’d been with him for one of these, she’d broken the wrist of one hapless tech who’d had the misfortune of trying to get a light reading for his director.
It wasn’t that Blade wasn’t cautious about his safety. He lived every moment of his life on edge waiting for the next attack on his person. The difference between him and Bo was that he’d learned to ignore everything but predatory attention. He’d had to. The alternative was simply too exhausting, especially when he was in the public eye all the time, and that showed no sign of changing in the near future. At least, he consoled himself, it was on his own terms.
Blade held still while a tech removed the microphone from his jacket. Once he was free of any extraneous listening devices, he retreated from the fray. He nudged Bo to her feet and led her towards the private lounge in the adjacent tent, trusting that Chase and the other two women would follow. Experience had taught him that Bo could only handle public scrutiny for so long before she bolted for the shadows. It was where she felt safest.
As soon as they hit the lounge, his publicist pounced.
“What was that?” She tapped her datapad meaningfully.
So close to making an escape. Blade sighed. “What was what?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, Blade,” she snapped. “You haven’t been able to pull off innocent since I met you.” His chuckles only annoyed her further. “If you want to be taken seriously, you need to drop the playboy bit. You were doing so well, too.”
He shrugged as if he hadn’t a care in the Commonwealth. “How was I supposed to know three Joy Babes were going to crash the interview? I think I handled it pretty well. I know I handled it better than what’s-her-name who was interviewing me.”
“All anyone is going to talk about now is what a degenerate you are, walking off with three Joy Babes.”
Sometimes his playboy persona worked to his advantage.
“I only walked off with one. The other two followed of their own volition.”
“Why did you dredge up that old Shi’bang story? I was just getting the attention from that one to die down. Don’t you ever take anything seriously?”
“Just because I treat everything with equal contempt doesn’t mean I don’t take anything seriously.” As a matter of fact, there were any number of things he took quite seriously, but his bad boy public image was not one of them. “Gossips are going to say what they want. I have no control over that. I’m not going to live my life around trying to placate them or anyone else. But there’s no law that says I can’t have a little fun with them along the way.”
“Fun?” she echoed. “Always with you, it’s about fun! You act like a condemned man trying to cram in as much of it as you can get before your execution!”
Blade nodded. “That sounds about right.” He exchanged a look with Bo. “There’s nothing like a death sentence to make you appreciate living.”
Bo’s amber eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled behind her veil. As a condemned traitor, she understood the sentiment, and Maker help him, he loved her all the more for it.
“You interview so well, Blade,” his publicist said, taking a different tack. “I’ve been watching and listening to the comments and they were starting to come around. They were beginning to focus on your athleticism, your dedication, your determination…a couple even commented that you might actually have a brain in your head. Then you pull this and we’re back to dealing with the media calling you a dissolute pretty boy. Book on your chances in the race is back down. The current odds are against your lasting a day on the course. If you go the full twenty-four days, I may win enough to retire.”
Blade reluctantly tore his gaze away from Bo and met his publicist’s disapproving glower. “Whatever will I do for a publicist if that happens?”
Her face reddened as her frustration with him reached dangerous levels. She struggled with her rising temper, which he dismissed with a wave o
f his hand.
“I’m immune to flattery, you know that,” he said. “I’m fully aware how fickle this industry is. They love me now because I’m such a bad boy. Why should I suddenly change and start behaving myself? It’ll completely destroy my image and marketability. Besides, I’m not prepared for the humility that would have to go along with a public reformation. It’s easier to keep being a bad boy – and really, I don’t mind finding new ways to misbehave.”
“You’ve got a half-dozen more interviews before you can take a break…”
Blade shook his head. “Extend my apologies, but I’m finished with interviews.”
“You can’t cancel these interviews, not after that performance. If you do, it’ll be all over the com-net that you’re off banging three Joy Babes the day before…”
“You know, if I did half the things the media says I do, I wouldn’t be able to walk straight, let alone race in the Catarrh.”
“No kidding. Which is why you need to go back out there and…”
“I have every faith in your ability to deal with the fallout,” he said. “If you’ll please excuse me, I’ve got a previous commitment.”
Blade glanced over his shoulder to his brother who barely managed to contain his amusement.
“If you leave now, I’ll…I’ll quit! You can just get yourself another publicist.”
“No you won’t,” he tossed over his shoulder as he led Bo towards the back exit. “You make too damn much off me to quit.”
He thought he heard her mutter “Cocky bastard!” under her breath as he led Bo out into the glaring Catarrh sunlight.
“I didn’t mean to cause you trouble,” Bo said.
His shoulders shook with soft laughter. “You love causing trouble,” he said. “You’re a bigger rascal than I ever thought of being.”
“She picked another fight,” Chase said with exaggerated censure..
“Again? What was it about this time?”
“The gate guard didn’t want to let us in,” Tese chimed in.
“He tried to grab her,” Gena said.
