Axel and Viv strolled along the upper deck. Viv’s body-hugging dress and killer curves drew repeated rubbernecks from the other VIPs, but she seemed oblivious, more interested in whatever Axel was saying and gaping at her surroundings.
Thirty minutes he’d watched her, on the cameras and through the glass. Every minute of it she’d been the same way. Open and transparent, enthralled with the sights and sounds.
Except for those few minutes right before Axel had shown.
Whatever had gone down with Candy had thrown a serious damper on her good mood. One minute she’d gently swayed in time with the music, and the next she’d gone rigid. Definitely something to swing by and have a little chat with Candy about before the night was over.
As soon as Axel guided Viv into the stairwell that led to their third-story offices, Jace turned and shut the door connecting his office to the conference room all but a few inches. The adjacent room was huge, with an oblong maple table big enough to seat twenty. The only entrances were from the hallway, Jace’s office or Axel’s on the opposite end. From here he’d be able to hear every word as it went down and watch the details through the security stream on his computer.
He settled behind his desk, snatched a toothpick from the dispenser near the corner, and popped it in his mouth.
Axel’s booming laughter billowed down the hallway, Vivienne’s light and happy chuckle right behind it. Yeah, having Axel pull front man to start with was a smart move. His easygoing attitude tended to set even the edgiest of people at ease, and Vivienne barely seemed capable of breathing around Jace, let alone laughter.
The main conference room door clicked open.
Vivienne strolled through ahead of Axel and settled her briefcase on the table. Her voice was breathless with the same husky quality that had plagued him since she’d fallen into his arms. “The lady who scheduled our appointment never mentioned who referred you to me, Mr. McKee.”
“My da’s long gone, lass, and callin’ me Mr. McKee makes me jumpy.” Axel strolled to the wet bar and set about pouring his favorite Scotch. “You up for something a little stronger than the Coke you were nursing downstairs?”
“No, thank you.” Her posture stiffened and she rummaged through her bag the same way she had with Candy. She’d mentioned her sister tipped the bottle a little too often. Not too far of a leap for her to have a strong aversion to the stuff as a result. Or maybe she’d sworn off because she was just as bad.
Christ, he’d brought her here for answers, not more questions.
“Would it be horribly rude if I asked where you’re from?” She tipped her head to one side. “You don’t really have much of an accent, but the words you use...you’re Scottish, right?”
“Indeed.” Axel settled on one of the high-back conference chairs along the side of the table, just as casual as he would be chatting up a woman downstairs. “My ma followed a tourist here when she was nineteen, married him inside of two months, and had me nine months later. I’ve grown up a Texan, but Ma’s brogue sets just as easy on my tongue.” He paused for a beat, that fucking panty-dropping cadence he used to pick up women sliding out of nowhere. “I’ll use it more if it does somethin’ for ye, lass.”
Vivienne laughed, unpacked a notepad from her briefcase, and sat on the edge of the chair next to Axel. “I thought you wanted to talk about business, not pick-up strategies.”
“Well, now. That was before I met ye in person. Might be I’ve changed me mind.”
“Yes, but I have bills to pay and you have an event to handle. Flirting, or anything beyond that, won’t cover either of those.”
Damn straight. Jace braced his elbows on his desk and the leather of his desk chair groaned loud enough to carry.
Axel’s gaze shot to the camera mounted in the corner of the conference room, and the motherfucker grinned. At least he dropped the accent. “If I can’t tempt you, then I guess we’d best get down to business.”
“Please. You didn’t give me much to go on beyond that you’re hosting a charity event outside of your club venue.”
“Not me, so much as a conglomerate of men I work with.”
Conglomerate, huh? The rest of the brothers would get a kick out of that one. Though it did have a nice ring to it.
“Six different corporations come together every year for a bike rally. Proceeds go to Catherine’s Kids.”
Vivienne bobbed her head and scribbled details on her notepad. “I haven’t heard of them.”
“Not surprising. They’re fairly small and don’t get much in the way of press. They fund summer art programs for disadvantaged and financially strapped kids.”
She popped her head up and swiveled for a better angle at Axel. “Who’s Catherine?”
“Patron Saint of Artists, of course.” He lifted his glass in salute and sipped his Scotch.
“And your event? What happens at the rally?”
“Been a disorganized cluster for the last few years, mostly friends of friends paying an up-front fee and chipping in for raffles and door prizes. The folks who run the charity are mostly volunteers, so we’ve a lot of hands to help. I thought if we brought in a professional, we might have better luck of makin’ a difference and get better press out of the deal.”
Viv stared at her notes and tapped her pen against her lower lip, then pegged Axel with a stern stare. “Would the need for improved press also have something to do with Crossroads getting negative press of late?”
Axel’s killer smile whipped into place, the one that left most people wondering if they’d just won the lottery, or if they’d just signed their death sentence with a crazy man. “You’re a smart one.” He twisted his glass on the table and crossed one leg over the other. “Aye, Crossroads could use a shot of good. But the rally goes on no matter what. The kids come first. Always.”
She jerked a sharp, approving nod. “Good. Now if you’ll just run down the nature of the other participating companies, I’ll see if I can line out some ideas for you.”
And that was it. No more than a few minutes to assess the gig and the underlying benefits, and she was off, pinging Axel with rapid-fire questions that would make both their mothers proud. Even funnier was the way Axel fell right into it, lifting from his reclined pose and leaning in so he could follow her notes for himself. None of the details seemed to bother her. Not the huge crowd they’d drawn in years past, or the number of business reps to coordinate. Everything about her downshifted into a natural groove that exuded shrewd, sharp confidence, all kinds of creative ideas flowing easily past those sexy lips of hers.
And damned if it all didn’t turn his dick to a cast-iron rod.
“Do you have a specific date lined out already, or do we have flexibility there?”
“We usually target late March, or early April. Makes for nice riding weather, though so far this year any month would do. If we hire you, we’d set up regular payments based on milestones and dates, starting at the end of January. I’m thinkin’ eight thousand a month would guarantee we get exclusive focus?”
“That sounds reasonable, though I’d ask for a booking retainer up front as well,” she said. “I’m confident I can organize your event in a way that not only brings in more for Catherine’s Kids, but also builds the positive attention Crossroads needs right now. Assuming you choose to use my company, of course.”
Axel stood and ambled to the wet bar.
Jace pushed away from his desk, grabbed the historical file on the rally, and padded toward the door. Another complication was the last thing he needed right now. If he was smart, he’d walk away, give Viv the business and let Axel handle it all.
“Mr. McKee?”
This was it. Either Jace shut the door and let Axel know to do whatever he wanted about giving her the business, or he stepped in to handle the decision himself.
Fuck it. He’d never ignored his instincts before, and he�
��d be damned if he started now. Cursing himself seven different ways from Sunday, he pulled the door wide. “You should probably know a few more details on the event before you close the deal.”
Chapter 5
Viv barely caught herself before she staggered back a step. Every logical business angle she’d queued up to close the deal fizzled to white space as the air whooshed out of her lungs.
Jace sauntered through the side conference room door in jeans so faded they had to be at least ten years old. A black T-shirt hugged his torso in a way she’d give a lot to trade places with. Unlike the ponytail he’d worn on New Year’s Eve, his soft black hair hung straight and loose to his shoulders. Everything about him radiated energy, so much so her whole body felt as though someone had clamped jumper cables to her shoulders.
Okay, maybe not her shoulders. She white-knuckled the edge of the table and pasted on her best professional smile. “Jace—” She shook her head and tried again. “Mr. Kennedy, I wasn’t aware you had involvement in this event.”
“Hard not to since I’m one of the owners.”
That’s where she knew the name from. That up-and-coming politician had ranted on TV about Crossroads just a few nights ago after a nasty drug arrest.
Jace meandered next to Axel at the wet bar and poured himself a glass of the same thing Axel had. “What do you think of Ms. Moore’s ideas?”
“Entertaining, that’s for sure.” Axel finished off his drink, keeping his gaze locked on Viv, then set it on the granite countertop and ambled to the door on the opposite end. “Gonna be interesting to see how it turns out.”
The door clicked shut behind him and Viv spun back to Jace. “See how what turns out?”
Jace kept his silence and padded to the long conference table beside her. He tossed a worn folder down and laid out all kinds of spreadsheets and flyers from rallies years past. Despite his business demeanor, the air between them sparked with an almost dangerous vibration, his body so close to hers his heat radiated in an alluring wave.
“You mentioned culling volunteers we’ve used before and reaching out to customers of the businesses involved to expand participation.” He shifted a few documents so she could better see them. “You’ll find all the volunteer contact information here and business contacts on this one. The same docs are available in soft copy as well.”
“You heard the whole thing.” God, she was an idiot. She should have done her homework better. Or at least pulled her head out of her triple-X fantasies long enough to figure out where she’d heard of him before. She took a step back. “I’d like for you to explain what’s going on.”
Jace studied her, the toothpick at the corner of his mouth twisting and turning. Something about his gaze rooted her in place, like he didn’t just look at her, but through her and into all her secrets. The corner of his mouth quirked and he lifted his tumbler for a drink. “You sure you don’t want something besides a Coke?”
“There’s a time and a place for alcohol. This isn’t it. Particularly around a man like you.”
His grin kicked up a notch, and the impact whacked her chest as firm as a major leaguer at bat. The thing really should be illegal. “A man like me?”
She nodded.
“You think I’d hurt a woman?”
“I think you’re the type to make a woman lose good sense.”
He tossed his toothpick onto the conference table and closed the little distance she’d created. “Maybe you need a man capable of making you lose good sense.”
Dear God, what was it about this guy? She’d never met a man who so thoroughly scrambled her thoughts and cranked her physical senses to overdrive. His scent was the same as before, all sunshine and beach, but with a darker undercurrent. A spice or woodsy edge she couldn’t quite place. Power pulsed off him and almost dragged her forward. All she’d have to do is lean forward an inch or two and she’d not only get to see if his lips felt as good as they looked, but she’d finally learn if his beard was soft or scratchy.
“Are you going to explain how you heard everything?” she said so low it was almost a whisper.
He eased back, gaze roaming her face. “I was curious, so I looked you up. I have an event, and you have a company that handles them. Seemed a good way to get to know more about you and free some time up for me in the process.”
“Free up time how?”
“I handled the logistics before, but it’s no secret that’s not my thing. I put together deals. Executing’s best left to people like Axel.” He sipped his drink, never breaking his unnerving stare. “Or you.”
A shiver snaked down her spine, desire and self-preservation duking it out along every inch. Jace Kennedy was hands down the absolute prime candidate for who not to get involved with, no matter how much her body disagreed.
She shook her head to clear it and focused on the paperwork. “Yes, well, I prefer to keep my professional relationships without personal complications. It makes it too difficult to do my job effectively.”
Jace leaned a hip on the table, retrieved his discarded toothpick, and laid it on his tongue. Smiling, he twirled the sliver of wood to the corner of his mouth, and a delicious ripple shuttled through her belly. What red-blooded woman wouldn’t want to see that tongue put to much better use than playing with a toothpick? “So you’re interested in the job then?”
The job. They were talking about the job. Not tongues, or skin, or hot and sweaty sex, but a job. Cash to pay the rent and keep her doing what she loved. Christ, maybe if she could catch a decent breath, her mind could function enough to process a coherent thought.
“I’d like a few days to check my schedule and see if I can’t make accommodations for my other commitments.” So what if her other commitments centered around networking luncheons and cold calls? He didn’t need to know her calendar was empty, and a little time would give her a chance to think things through without him muddling her head. “This might be a full-time endeavor, but I don’t want to burn bridges elsewhere.”
“Sounds reasonable.” He straightened to full height. “What’s say we shake on it?”
God, she’d never make it through working with him. Just looking at his strong, outstretched hand shot her thoughts off into seriously dirty territory. His fingers were long and clearly no stranger to manual labor. If he played them with the same confidence he did everything else, there’d be no telling how fast he could get a woman off.
Their palms met and she barely stifled a groan, the heat and power behind his grip all too easy to imagine against her hips. “Should I contact you or Mr. McKee with my answer?”
She might’ve covered the groan, but there was no hiding the rasp in her voice.
Jace’s gaze locked on her mouth and he gave his toothpick another twirl with his tongue. “Oh, definitely me. I tend to be a hands-on man.”
She tugged her hand free and stepped back, nearly tripping on the edge of the chair behind her. Smoothing the front of her dress, she cleared her throat and started restacking the papers he’d laid out. “I’d like to keep these for reference, if it’s alright with you?” Not waiting for an answer, she tucked the stack into the folder and snatched her purse. “I’ll be in touch in a few days with my final answer. I appreciate your time and consideration.”
Spinning for the door, her thigh smacked the armrest on the chair next to her and sent it spinning. He probably thought she was a bumbling idiot at this point, incapable of putting one steady foot in front of the other, but it was too hard to care anymore. So much adrenaline flooded her system that sweat lined the space between her shoulder blades, and her heart ached as though she’d sprinted up a forty-five degree incline.
She hurried out into the shadowed hallway and semi-jogged down the stairs. Who was she kidding? If she couldn’t look Jace in the eye for more than five minutes without blubbering, then there was no way she could take this job. And passing on it was r
eally for the best. She’d promised herself she’d stay distanced from this kind of lifestyle. With routine and respectable behavior came safety and reliability. She’d never find that in this kind of environment. Certainly not with a man like Jace.
The club’s vibrant colors and thick crowds went by in a blur, the impact of her heels against the black industrial carpet vibrating up her legs. Cool January air drafted through the open metal doors ahead. Finally, she could breathe. A few more minutes and she’d be safe in her car, locked up tight, and headed back to her quiet world.
She stepped across the threshold and a big hand clamped down on her shoulder. “Ms. Moore, I’ll have to ask you to hold up a minute.”
Viv spun to find the big brute who’d hooked her up with Candy. “I’m leaving.”
“Actually, you’re staying,” the brute said. “Got a problem, and need you to hold tight right here.”
All around her, people in all manner of clothing and varied states of soberness strolled in varied directions. If there was a problem, she sure as hell didn’t see one. “I think there’s a misunderstanding. My meeting with Mr. Kennedy is over, and I’m headed back to my car.”
Jace’s voice sounded behind her, close enough his breath registered on the back of her neck. Her skin tingled with awareness. “Don’t think you got everything.”
The brute grinned and ambled back to his post.
Viv closed her eyes and dug for some semblance of disaffectedness. For crying out loud, she could fake it with the snootiest of people. Surely she could hold her own with a man who’d fit in at the trailer park back home. She steeled her spine, turned and couldn’t help but giggle.
In Jace’s hand was her briefcase. “Might need this when you get home.”
“Thank you.” She took the briefcase and tucked the folder inside. “I apologize for your having to trail after me. I shouldn’t have hurried out the way I did.”
“I upset you.”
“Not you. I was just a little surprised—”
“Bullshit.”
Rough & Tumble (The Haven Brotherhood) Page 5
