by Dawn Ryder
“Ah…sure,” she answered. “I’m getting right on that.”
He winked at her before looping an arm across her shoulders as they went through the lobby. “Let’s confuse them completely by being seen together.”
His tone was so properly British, but the gleam in his eye was most definitely wicked. She was snorting as he took her through the doors. Cameras flashed and questions began sailing at them over the heads of the Hyatt security.
A polished Harley was sitting outside, a polo-shirted Toxsin crew member standing beside it. Drake lifted his leg and swung it over the seat of the machine. The paparazzi enjoyed every second of it, leaning over the barrier tape the hotel had placed outside the main driveway. He revved the bike, his features contorting with enjoyment.
“Let’s take a ride, Jewel.”
She slung her bag over her shoulder and slid on behind him. Her skirt rode up, making her eternally grateful for the leggings she’d put on. There were whistles as Drake pulled out of the circular drive in front of the hotel. Members of the paparazzi jumped on motorcycles and followed.
“Hold on,” Drake advised as he revved up the engine.
But he didn’t do anything stupid. A few of the camera jockeys kept up with them, but he didn’t care. He pulled up in front of Voodoo Doughnut.
“My lady’s pleasures await.”
Jewel laughed as she climbed off the bike and Drake swung his leg over to join her. Voodoo Doughnut had more than one location, but he’d brought her to one of the larger ones. It was in a brick building, the doors opening out onto the sidewalk.
“Wow…” Jewel said as she stepped inside and took her first breath of the sweet-smelling air. “I think my blood sugar is going up just by the scent of this place.”
There were cases of doughnuts, but not the sort she was used to seeing. All of them were over-the-top. Some were dipped in chocolate and then in candy or kids’ cereal. There were oversized doughnuts and vegan ones too.
She was pressing her nose to the glass of the display cases, enjoying the variety, when Drake came up behind her.
“Please get the phallus-shaped one…” he cooed next to her ear. “I want to tell Ramsey I watched you eat dick.”
She laughed at him.
“I’ll take that as agreement.” He straightened up and pointed at a huge doughnut shaped like a male cock and covered in chocolate. The kid behind the counter didn’t miss a step as he used a paper sheet to cover the sweet and lift it off the tray before nestling it in the box he had balanced on his arm. Jewel realized he’d been filling the box with everything she pointed at.
“Ah—” She started to correct the clerk because her budget couldn’t support that sort of excess.
“Don’t worry,” Drake said, cutting her off. “Got the whole crew to dispose of the leftovers.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “What sort of pirate would I be if I neglected my crew?”
“A dead one. Or marooned,” she said.
They’d reached the end of the counter where the register sat. Drake tossed down a hundred-dollar bill without blinking. “Keep the change.”
The kid flipped him a thumbs-up and handed over the box.
“I can pay for my own,” Jewel protested.
“Not a chance,” Drake said. “I’m working you over because a couple of guys in the crew are begging me to hook them up with you for some of that amazing ink you do.” He pushed the door open with his shoulder as he cradled the box of doughnuts. “You wouldn’t want them to think I roll over for nothing, would you?”
“Oh, please, send them my way,” she said as a camera flashed. “I am bored off my gourd.”
“Hey, Jewel, is Drake a good lover?”
Drake smirked at the reporter before he handed the box of doughnuts off to a Toxsin crew member who had somehow appeared. Drake winked at her before he looked at the crew member.
“Go get another box. That one’s for the band.”
The crew member was in motion the second Drake finished. Jewel looked at Drake. “My image of you taking me away just shattered.”
Drake mounted the Harley and crooked his finger at her. “Had to have someone hold the doughnuts,” he said in a deep tone. “You’re going to be busy holding on to me.”
The reporter whooped as Jewel choked on her laughter. She slid onto the back of the bike and wrapped her arms around Drake. The drummer was solid and smelled like leather. He was fun too. When he peeled away from the curb, her insides tightened, making her laugh. He took her through the streets of Portland, taking the scenic route back to the hotel. Her nose was cold by the time they made it back, but she didn’t care. She followed Drake into an elevator, laughing with him as it took them to the top of the hotel.
But the doors opened to reveal Brenton waiting for them. He was poised and congenial, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. There was something in his eyes that hinted at a very serious conversation heading her way.
“Ms. Ryan, could you come with me?”
“Sure.” She was already falling into step with him as she caught Drake watching them with a frown.
But Brenton didn’t give her time to dwell on it. He turned around a corner and took her through a set of double doors that led into a conference room. It had a long table in it with padded rolling chairs.
“This is Carl Pearson, our solicitor.”
“Nice to meet you.” Carl offered her his hand. When they finished shaking, Carl indicated a chair. “Have a seat. We have a little business to work out.”
She was suddenly glad she hadn’t eaten any of the doughnuts. Her belly knotted as she took a seat. Carl had a neat stack of paper sitting in front of him. Brenton had departed, leaving her and Carl alone.
“Toxsin’s image is vital to the band’s success,” Carl began.
“I believe I’ve experienced that in the form of doing a cover-up to avoid ‘image’ damage.” She was on the defensive. Every muscle was drawn tight.
“Yes.” Carl took back control of the meeting. “The tattoo you applied to Mr. Brimer is now a part of his stage persona. We would like exclusive rights to the artwork.” Carl was spreading out a contract in front of her. “We are prepared to pay for controlling rights, of course.”
* * *
Fresh from the stage, the members of Toxsin were still pumped up. Now that the concert was done, beer was flowing backstage. Makeup artists were touching up the band members’ faces as Brenton looked at his watch and made a “wrap it up” gesture with his fingers.
“Press is waiting, gentlemen.”
They left the backstage room, moving through the arena as fans squealed. Security lined the walkway, keeping the enthralled crowd back.
“Eat them up,” Brenton said with a firm pat on Ramsey’s shoulder.
The road manager was looking through the one-way glass in the doors at the horde of press waiting for the band to come out and talk to them. They were packed in behind security rope barriers, minding their places, because they knew the celebrities wouldn’t come out unless they behaved.
Ramsey opened his mouth and acted as though he were taking a bite out of the air between him and Brenton. It earned him another pat on the back as Brenton snickered softly, said, “That’s why they love you.”
Brenton fell back as Drake and Taz moved up to join them. The stadium staff pushed the doors open, and the cameras started flashing. They knew how to fall into place, each one hitting their pose for a long moment so pictures could be snapped. Once the frenzy died down, they each took one of the director chairs waiting for them. The interview questions started coming fast and furious. Every answer was being recorded, but there were still reporters scribbling down notes.
Each band member had a microphone, and they took turns answering. They ignored the more outrageous inquiries.
“Ramsey…the tattoo…who’s the artist? Why is she on tour with Toxsin?”
“Jewel Ryan,” Ramsey answered. “If you’ve got to ask why she’s on tour with us, you mus
t need glasses, man. Her work is off the charts.”
There was a round of laughter.
“So, Drake, what is Jewel to you?” another reporter queried.
Ramsey snapped his head around, his calm stage face sticking in place only because of years of experience. Drake offered the reporter a wink.
“She’s a lady. What sort of a pirate would I be if I didn’t try to get her on the back of my bike?” Drake answered smugly.
The crowd of reporters laughed again. Brenton finally appeared, putting an end to the press conference. The reporters all scrambled to snap a last few shots before Toxsin disappeared behind the tinted windows of a black SUV. The trip to the hotel was short.
Security was thick, guiding them toward the elevators and making sure no one slipped in. Still, there were a good number of girls hugging the walls and peeking through the planters. They squealed and sent the band members suggestive looks, more than one flashing them. Taz eyed Ramsey and joined him in the elevator when he passed the rest of the band, making it to the elevator first and bypassing the girls for the first time in a very long time. Taz offered an approving nod as he joined him in the waiting car.
But the moment they made it to the top floor, Ramsey caught Drake in the hallway. The drummer had his arm draped across the shoulders of a giggling blond. She looked up at Ramsey with a little sigh.
“Get on in there and make yourself at home,” Drake said as he gave her a smack on her very delectable ass.
She jumped and turned to shoot them both a hot look. “Don’t be too long…” She fingered the straps of her dress, pulling them over her shoulders so more of her breasts were revealed, and her nipples were hard, poking out against the soft jersey fabric. “I don’t have very much to take off.”
Drake blew her kiss before turning back to look at Ramsey. “What’s up?”
“Why did you take Jewel out on your bike?” Ramsey demanded.
Drake blinked, his British demeanor solidly in place. “The woman had a craving… I fulfilled it, mate. Can’t help it if you’re slow on the uptake when it comes to satisfying her.”
“Fuck off,” Ramsey snarled.
Drake opened his arms wide as he took a step back. “Exactly my plan.” He turned and made his way into the open suite. There was a husky giggle before music started blaring.
“You’re better off,” Taz said from behind him. “Not going in there, I mean.”
Ramsey rounded on Taz. “Virtue might work for you, but I’m not going to be mind-fucked by some cultural dictate about morality being tied to monogamy. No one is heeding it anyway.”
“Plenty of people keep their word,” Taz argued. “Lots of couples keep their vows.”
“And double that number are boinking in their offices or limousines the second their spouse is out the door on a business trip. So don’t fucking tell me it’s the way to true happiness, or any shit like it’s good for my soul.”
Taz didn’t take offense at the way Ramsey was trying to poke holes in his beliefs. It was worse than that. His lips pressed into a hard line of disapproval. “Jewel is good for you because you want to be better for her. She brings out a better part of you.”
“I’m not trying to please her,” Ramsey said. “Know why? Because she isn’t interested in what I have to offer.”
Taz slowly shook his head. “That’s what I said. She won’t take your crappy party-animal relationship. She can see there is more inside you. Better wise up before you lose her. You should be grateful she doesn’t see you as a toy. What has that life gotten you? Take a good look in the mirror—you don’t like who you’ve become.”
Taz turned and left, leaving Ramsey fighting the urge to hurl a comment at his back.
He could tell 99 percent of the people on the face of the planet to fuck off, but not his bandmates. They were his family, and as such, shrugged off what they thought didn’t work very well. He knew they meant well, even when they pissed him off.
Besides, Taz was right, and to tell him he was wrong would be to say principles were something Ramsey saw no value in at all. Well fuck, he wasn’t going to do that, even if there were times he wondered if there was a single redeeming glimmer left alive inside him.
Jewel thought there was.
Hell, the way she looked at him, the way her eyes always lit up like he was some kind of hero—it stripped him bare, reducing him to a pile of need to be everything she believed he might be. A need he couldn’t ignore because it made him feel incredible, and Taz had nailed it.
Ramsey didn’t like the person he’d become.
* * *
Jewel woke up sometime after midnight when someone pounded on her door. She was sacked out on the sofa, where she’d fallen asleep looking out at the Portland skyline. Her cell phone vibrated with an incoming text.
I know you’re in there, Jewel.
It was Ramsey.
Well, I know you’re standing in the hallway she texted back. It wasn’t the most mature message. She heard him snort on the other side of the door and smiled.
“Alright.” She rolled off the sofa, walked barefoot across the dark mini-suite, and undid the security latch before opening the door.
“You didn’t come to the show,” he said.
“I had a business meeting with your lawyer and was pinned in a boardroom,” she shot back, but she didn’t like the sound of her voice. Didn’t care for how rattled she was. If she wanted to play in the big leagues, she was going to have to pull up her big-girl panties. “Not that I couldn’t handle it.”
“You’re mad,” he accused her.
“Okay, fine. But not because of the contract. I get that part,” she answered.
He opened up his hands, looking at her for an explanation. She chewed on her lower lip as she contemplated clueing him in. His attention dropped to her mouth, his eyes narrowing with hunger. She jumped at the chance to change the topic back to something nonsexual.
“You should have asked me yourself, not had your lawyer and road manager corner me. I drew the dragon for you, Ramsey. I never would have done another one—I have integrity.” She sounded hurt, and she hated the fact that her emotions were bubbling over while he was there. She felt on display, like she was standing there naked.
She heard him snort.
“Does that mean you won’t be accepting the money?” he asked. “I don’t think so.”
She rolled her eyes. “Did you knock on my door just to start a fight? I know what I do. Are you a sell out for signing with a music producer? Would you rather be strumming your guitar on a street corner for change?”
Ramsey opened his mouth to say something, but he shut his jaw and considered her for a long moment. He pushed away from the wall and closed the distance between them. Her belly twisted, her body coming alive. He kept her in the grip of anticipation as he reached out and stroked his fingers down one side of her face.
She shuddered. His touch unleashed a rush of sensation that crackled through her.
“You need to understand…” His voice was rough from the concert. “Being around me means dealing with my fame.”
She pushed away from him, back into her room, but he followed her, the door hitting his shoulder as he came right in after her. But there was a very resounding thud as the door shut behind him.
“That’s a chickenshit answer,” she said. “You didn’t want to ask me because you knew what it meant to me. And then, when I tell you that, you’re just going to say I’m projecting onto you again because I see you as more than a dick.”
She was suddenly so frustrated, she wanted to yank her hair out.
He was overwhelming her as usual. She backed up, moving to where the room opened up. She’d never turned the lights on, and when the outer door closed, there were only the city-skyline lights to illuminate him.
“You sell your art, Jewel, ” he countered. “Why should I worry about your feelings of attachment? No one’s ever paid you what I have.”
“That’s not the point.” Her v
oice was a mere whisper, as though she was out of strength.
“The point is, you want me to care about you,” Ramsey said. “You want to make things personal between us. Not going to happen, sweetheart.”
He was exasperated, frustration edging his words. The sight quelled her temper.
“Why does that bother you so much?” she asked, throwing her hands into the air and turning her back on him. “Why do I care? I’m such an idiot.”
She actually grabbed a handful of her hair.
He was suddenly there, against her back, his arms locked around her, pushing her arm down, keeping her in place as she jerked against the overwhelming stimulus of being in contact with him.
“Don’t…don’t…stop caring.” It was a dark whisper from the blackness surrounding them. A flicker of need deep inside him she’d known was there, despite his denials.
“Just…don’t,” he rasped out.
He was kissing her hair, nuzzling her temple. She shivered, the skin-to-skin contact flashing through her like an explosive. It blew her common sense to bits, leaving her with nothing but yearnings.
She turned to him, slipping her hands up his neck. His skin was smooth and hot. So hot, she felt like her clothing was too much to suffer. Ramsey seemed to think the same thing. He slid his hands down her sides until he found the hem of her tunic top. His mouth captured hers as he rolled the fabric up her body, breaking away from their kiss to tug it off her.
She gasped, a little sound that betrayed how vulnerable she felt. He was so confident, so much in his element. She felt helpless by comparison.
“You’re beautiful,” he rasped, reaching out to finger the lace-edged cups of her bra.
“You mean a pirate’s dream, a sunken chest.” She closed her arms over her breasts as her confidence deserted her completely.
“I mean beautiful.” He scooped her off her feet, cradling her as he carried her into the bedroom. “And your body is smokin’ hot too.”
Somehow, she was on the bed, and Ramsey was shrugging out of his vest. He reached down to work the fly of his pants without missing a beat.
“Look… I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”
He stopped, his fingers still on the laces of his pants.
