Henry looked away and she rubbed his shoulder. ‘Is something worrying you, Henry? Because you know you can tell me anything.’
‘It’s just…she says she’s coming home then she stays for a few days and is gone again. I can’t remember what it was like to live with her all the time.’
Emily’s chest hurt. ‘Henry, you know, if she does what she says and comes home, it doesn’t mean you have to live with her. Do you want to live with her?’
Henry shrugged, not meeting her gaze. ‘I don’t know.’
Ouch. ‘Well, that’s not something you have to worry about yet. If you’re finished, you can get down from the table. Have you got any homework?’
He shook his head. ‘Not tonight.’
Emily reflected that she always believed him when he told her that. He’d probably done in in his free time at school. He was such a little nerd – so like her at his age – always buried in his books, especially the ones to do with space. Astro-nerd, she thought fondly. ‘Well, go wash up then. Want to watch a movie?’
He shook his head, thanked her and slid from his chair, disappearing into his room. Another way he was like her – he was a solitary creature. Emily washed the dishes and then checked her emails. Her phone buzzed. Isaiah’s handsome face flashed on her screen but, feeling guilty, she let the call go to voicemail.
Emily had been seeing Isaiah Chesnutt for little over a year – casual was how she would term their relationship. Isaiah, a tall African-American, elegant, intelligent and funny-as-hell, had been in agreement with her that he too wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, had never pressured her but, lately, she’d been coming up with far too many excuses not see him: meetings, parent/guardian-teacher conferences, exhaustion. She wondered now to herself if she should cut him loose, he was far too great a catch to be wasting his time with someone as distant as herself.
Emily noticed she had a text that she’d missed but groaned when she saw who it was from. Sheer curiosity made her open Dash Hamilton’s message.
Emily, I was a jerk, a big, dumb jerk and I apologize. Please don’t punish the band for my idiocy – can we please meet again to discuss you representing them? I’ll come to you whenever and wherever you want to meet. My best, Dashiell Hamilton.
Well, Emily thought, that was kind of sweet. ‘Dashiell,’ she said out loud and grinned. Okay, call my office and set up a meeting, she typed then added, last chance…Dashiell.
***
She saw him as soon as she reached the restaurant. He was sitting in the window, the light flooding in, highlighting his glorious pretty-boy features. She guessed he couldn’t be more than twenty-nine or thirty, his skin was smooth, his eyes unlined.
Dash Hamilton stood when he saw her and smiled – not the practiced smile of the arrogant young wunderkind but a genuine, slightly relieved grin. Friendly. Emily couldn’t help but return the smile. His hand closed around hers in a firm grip.
‘Thank you, Emily, thank you for agreeing to meet with me again. Please,’ he pulled out her chair for her and she thanked him.
After they’d ordered, Dash’s face turned serious. ‘Look, I want to apologize – ‘
‘Wait,’ Emily said, her cheeks pinking, ‘You already have. Now it’s my turn. You caught me on a bad day. I just had some bad news and I took it out on you. Yes, you were a little…jerky…but I could have handled it better. So, I’m sorry.’
She realized she was waiting for his reply – how he reacted now would tell her what he needed to know. If he gloated…the meeting was over and The 9th & Pine would have to find another manager.
Dash briefly touch the back of her hand with a cool fingertip. ‘You don’t need to apologize. We’ve all had those days. Is everything okay? Can I help with something?’
Emily started to smile. Was this an act? Was he playing with her? Because that reply was just about the most perfect one she could think of. ‘No, thank you, it’s okay. Family stuff.’
Dash nodded sympathetically. His cornflower blue eyes held hers steadily and Emily began to feel something inside her quiver. Damn, those eyes… ‘I get it,’ he said, unaware of the turmoil inside of her, ‘Family is difficult, painful.’
‘Who have you got?’
He looked surprised at her curiosity. ‘I’m going to sound like Oliver Twist here but…’
Emily flushed again. ‘God, I’m sorry.’
Dash chuckled. ‘It’s okay. My parents died when I was fifteen ago, within weeks of each other. My brother Sam – he was about ten years older than me – he died from cancer a few years back. He was best friends with Tom and Roman, he was supposed to be the ‘fourth’ in Quartet but he died before they could start the company. At his funeral, Tom told me he, Roman, and Otis wanted me to be their ‘fourth’. I’ll never forget it.’
Emily was touched by the open way he told her his story, his complete lack of guile. And it explained a whole lot about the man in front of her – he wanted to prove himself to his brother’s friends, he wanted to replay their faith in him. All this made Dash Hamilton seem less like the billionaire playboy the press painted him as and more as a lost little boy.
Of course, she thought, he could be playing me but just as she believed Henry when he said he had no homework, she believed Dash Hamilton. And it didn’t hurt that her eyes kept being drawn to his mouth, his very smooth-lipped smile.
‘So,’ Dash said, ‘Can I please ask you to reconsider helping me promote the band? I hate to play the passive-aggressive emotional blackmail card but Bay really wants you – in fact, she offered to come out with me to beg but I said this was on me. We’d really like to work with you, Emily. Please, it would be our honor.’
And this time, she could think of no good reason to say no.
***
Bay gathered her into a tight hug when they met the next week for the first time since she’d agreed to manage them.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘I mean it. I’m so grateful.’ Emily knew then she had made the right decision. She spent the weekend rearranging her schedules and appointments to make sure she had the time to do this and had spent many evenings buried in paperwork. Henry had been a little star, helping her keep things organized, washing dishes, even running the vacuum cleaner around their apartment for her. He was excited about her representing the band – he had loved Rocky’s single with Bay, had played it ad-nauseum on the mp3 player she’d bought him last Christmas.
Bay introduced her to the band – Kym, the blonde guitarist and Pete Espinoza, the drummer, who was as wide as he was tall and as easy-going as a person could be. They’d met in a local diner and as they chatted, Emily studied each of them. Bay was almost the same as she remembered from when she worked with Rocky, fun, smart, hugely talented – the only difference now was there was a wary, hunted look in her eyes. Emily had no idea where that came from but if Bay was going to be ready for the flood of publicity that was coming the band’s way, she would need to find out. Pete, she liked immensely and quickly realized that, if Bay was the driving force of the band, Pete was the rock, the steady, protecting papa-bear.
Kym – Emily had a harder time working the blond guitarist out. She knew Kym was the offspring of two rock demi-gods – Charlie and Mac Clayton – but she had been surprised to learn that Kym had very little to do with her parents, hadn’t traded on their name, hadn’t been into drugs or acting out when she was a kid. She seemed brittle, almost a ghost in their lives. Now, around her two best friends, Emily could see how Kym could blossom into a confident woman, a rock star of equal acclaim as her parents.
‘Hey, all, sorry I’m late,’ Dash, dressed casually but expensively in jeans and tee slid into the booth next to Emily. Emily felt her cheeks burn. Over the last week, she’d been thinking about Dash Hamilton way too much. They’d talked a couple of times on the phone, once, late at night when she’d needed to ask him something. That phone call had lasted an hour. Now, he grinned at her as if they were old friends.
‘So you getting to know
this band of pirates?’
***
‘No. No.’
Bay, Kym and Pete exchanged glances as their manager and their PR guy bickered and argued over their album launch. Three weeks and neither had agreed on anything. It had been pretty funny to watch at first but now they were getting dangerously close to the album launch and they didn’t have a plan.
Dash, his hair sticking up all in all directions, was gesturing with his hands. ‘I know how this business works,’ he groaned, ‘you’re not going to sell them on just their talent. We know they’re incredible but we need a hook to get people interested, get the music press talking about them.’
‘I agree but not placing their music for free on a damn reality show! Do I really need to see Spencer and Heidi making out to a great song like ‘Fire for You’? No.’ Emily’s hair was only marginally less messy than Dash’s. He bugged at her.
‘Spencer and Heidi? When was the last time you watched a reality show?’
‘Exactly. Exactly my point.’
‘Okay, Grandma but the youn – ‘
‘I want them to appeal to every age group not just kids who think Kanye is some sort of messiah.’
Bay leaned over to her band mates. ‘Do you think they know we’re here?’ A stage-whisper that made Emily and Dash stop arguing. From their expressions, both of them had clearly forgotten the band was in the room. Dash cleared his throat and Emily sighed.
‘Guys,’ she sounded exhausted. ‘What do you think?’
For a second none of them spoke. ‘Look, I see where Dash is coming from – it’s the old any publicity is good publicity but I’m more inclined to agree with Emily. We don’t want to give the impression that we can be bought. We need to retain our integrity even if it takes longer to get traction.’ Kym looked for confirmation at her band mates.
‘Yep,’ Pete nodded, ‘None of us want to be popstars. We’re musicians and I think if we start treating musicians as artists, if Quartet tries something different with its marketing, it’ll get noticed.’
Dash looked at Bay. ‘You too?’
Bay nodded. ‘One hundred percent. We’re not bubble-gum, we’re serious musicians. We want a career where people are still buying our albums in twenty years, even if they don’t buy the singles.’
Pete was grinning. ‘What Bay is saying is she wants to be in Pearl Jam.’
Bay chuckled and mock-scowled at him. ‘If you’re not careful, I’ll replace you with Ed the Ved.’
‘He’s not a drummer.’
‘He played the drums in his ex-wife’s band.’
‘That restraining order he had on you is still current, right?’
Dash broke up the laughter. ‘Look, alright. But, look, Ems, throw me a bone. At least let me book them on The Late Show or Saturday Night Live.’
Emily sighed and ran her hand through her hair. ‘I’ll think about it. Now, I have to go back to San Francisco tonight. Can I trust you all not to listen to Dash about anything until we’ve agreed on it?’
Dash sighed but smiled. ‘Fine. Look, I have to go out to Tacoma, I’ll take you to the airport.’
After they’d left, Bay grinned at her friends. ‘It’s happening.’
‘I know. Scary,’ Kym sat back in her chair and leaned against Pete’s big frame.
‘If we can get those two to agree on something,’ Pete added, throwing an arm around Kym. Bay nodded and for quiet for a time then, grinning, she raised her eyebrows knowingly.
‘They might not agree but they’re totally going to hook up, right?’
‘Totally.’
‘I know, right?’
‘Who wants to bet on how soon?’
Pete stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a wad of notes, waving them in the air. ‘I’ll take that bet.’
***
Emily relaxed back into the seat of Dash’s Mercedes. The car glided smoothly along the highway out to the airport, the air conditioning cold but welcome. She felt the breeze flow through her thin shirt, make her nipples pucker and harden.
Yes, it’s definitely the air-con, she told herself, and not the temptation of Dash’s long, lean thigh next to hers, his elegant, well-manicured fingers on the steering wheel. She imagined them trailing up inside her thigh, stroking her through her panties, slipping inside of her…Jeez, she sat up suddenly. What the hell, girl? You have a gorgeous, sexy boyfriend and Dash Hamilton, however cute, is a complete man-whore.
She stared out of the window of the car, defiantly looking away from his hands, his long, long legs, his staggeringly handsome profile.
‘You okay?’
‘Yes, sure. Thanks for the ride.’ Even that sounded dirty.
‘It’s not a problem.’
‘What are you doing in Tacoma this late?’
‘Huh?’
She smiled at him. ‘You said you were going to Tacoma.’
Dash blinked. ‘Oh, right, yeah, just some drinks with the guys. What are you going home to?’
‘Kid,’ she said, suddenly wanting to shock him. It worked, he looked surprised and she took pity. ‘My nephew lives with me while my sister is on tour.’
Dash looked blank. ‘Your sister …’
‘…is Paige Moore.’ She finished for him. He looked at her.
‘I never made the connection.’
‘Are you sure you work for one of the biggest record companies in the world?’ She was laughing at him now and he took it graciously.
‘Touché. But that’s so cool…so you look after her kid when she’s on tour?’
‘Henry. And it’s more like…he lives with me and she visits. Occasionally,’ she added before she could stop the bitterness in her voice. Dash nodded.
‘Got it. How old is Henry?’
‘Eight and just the most wonderful kid. A dream, really, by any parent’s standards. He’s my mini-me.’
Dash smiled at her. ‘That’s the most animated I’ve ever seen you. You love him.’
She nodded. ‘I do. It’s weird because I never wanted kids but when I imagine my life now, being without – ‘She broke off, horrified to find herself choking up. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She felt his hand, so warm and dry, covering hers.
‘Hey…’
She brushed away a tear that escaped. ‘Sorry. Just tired.’
‘Tired and emotional. Isn’t that what we say when one of our acts is heading to rehab?’ His grin told her he was kidding and she smiled, grateful for his effort to break the tension.
‘Excuse, Mr. Hamilton, none of my acts have ever needed to go to rehab.’
‘There’s always time. I saw Pete have two beers earlier.’
‘Scandalous.’
Regretfully, she saw they were at the airport now and as Dash pulled up to the drop-off point, she turned to thank him again.
‘I told you, no problem.’ His smile was gentle, his eyes locked onto hers. A thrill ran through her and a pulse bet between her legs.
‘Dash?’
‘Yes?’
‘You don’t have plans in Tacoma tonight, do you?’
His smile split his face. ‘Not one.’ His humour was so infectious she couldn’t help but laugh.
‘Well, I appreciate it. I’ll see you in a couple of days.’ She got out of the car but leaned back in when he called her name.
‘Say hi to Henry for me.’
She smiled. ‘I will, thanks again.’
At the terminal door, she turned to see him still at the curb, watching her. She waved as he did then watched as he drove away. Her feelings in turmoil, she walked into the airport and went to catch her flight.
Two and a half hours later, she let herself into her apartment to be met by a very worried looking Maura.
‘She knocked…and I couldn’t think how to refuse her. I’m sorry, I let her in.’
Emily looked past her into the living room and her heart sank. Henry sat beside his mother, awkward and uncomfortable, as she hugged him with one hand. As Emily walked into the room, Pa
ige looked up and flashed one of her perfect Hollywood smiles.
‘Hey, little sis, surprised to see me?’
***
Dash drove back into the city still smiling. Emily Moore was unlike the women he usually had to deal with, both in business and in private - well, he admitted, how he treated her was different. No posturing, no alpha-male behavior. He found he didn’t want to be anything but be his true self with her. Despite their different views on how to market The 9th & Pine, he found her so comfortable to be with, so easy and natural.
And, God, she was beautiful. Her smile – when she smiled – was infectious, joyous and she looked five years younger than her twenty-four. Dash found himself wanting to have grown up with her, the girl next door – he was sure they would have been best friends. Despite her consummate professionalism, he saw that, underneath, was a woman who hadn’t had nearly the fun she should have had.
Tonight, in the car, it had taken all his self-control from pulling the car over and taking her in his arms. Any other woman he would have done. But he had gained far more than a kiss when, because he’d restrained his normal bluff, she’d opened up to him.
At home in his penthouse, he looked out over the city. To be here, at his young age, was still miraculous to him. After Sam had died, and Roman and Tom had come to him, he’d been amazed at how much faith they had put in him. He had been working at a Manhattan PR firm under the tutelage of one of the most feared and respected PR mavens in the fashion business and had already made quite a name for himself due to his outgoing personality and his eye for future trends.
Yes, that time was responsible for making his name, but it was when he joined Quartet, that his career took off into the stratosphere.
Tom had laid out his vision for the company. Saying that he wanted it to be progressive and embrace the changes in the music business in a way that their rivals still tried to avoid.
‘Those kids that are illegally downloading the music still go to the gigs, still spend hard earned money on the bands’ merchandize. If we championed singers who could actually sing, bands who could actually play instead of spending millions on plasticizing a generation of girls who should still be playing with their Malibu Barbie’s instead of wearing false lashes and singing about giving head…. well, you get the picture.’
Quartet Complete Series: Billionaire Romance Box Set (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) Page 9
