by Maya Banks
A few seconds later, the door burst open and Lyric stumbled in, a wide grin on her face. Two men he could only assume were her bodyguards flanked her. He arched one eyebrow as the bodyguards proceeded to get very up close and personal as they staggered in Connor’s direction.
As one hand closed around her breast, she swatted playfully, then smiled up at the bodyguard with a “not now, later” look.
Another man stepped in front of Lyric, halting her progress toward the record execs. She frowned and her eyes narrowed but just as quickly her expression became neutral as she stared up at the guy.
“You looked and sounded like shit out there, Lyric. What the hell is your problem?”
Connor’s brows drew together and he found himself frowning at the blatant disrespect in the other man’s tone. Whoever the guy was, he wasn’t worried about the repercussions of his outburst. Connor glanced over at Lyric, fully expecting her to tear the guy a new asshole, but he couldn’t read a thing on her face or in her eyes. It was like she wasn’t even there anymore.
“You need to use this time off to get your act together,” the guy continued. “Get a massage. Get laid. Whatever it takes, but don’t show up in Houston sounding like a screechy has-been.”
Whoa. This was starting to get entertaining.
“Who’s the guy?” Connor asked Phillip casually.
“Her manager, Paul.”
Connor couldn’t read any disapproval in Phillip’s tone. Maybe Paul was saying what everyone else was thinking. But then Connor caught the look in Phillip’s eyes. He looked murderous.
“He always talk to her like that?”
Phillip gave a short nod. “Yeah. Look, you’re going to have to deal with him. There’s nothing I can do about that. But you work for me. Not that little prick. Remember that.”
The men went silent as Lyric finally pushed by her manager and then she came up short when she laid eyes on Connor. Connor took his time acknowledging her presence. The problem was, the woman was clearly used to having people come to attention when she entered a room. Hell would freeze over before he’d be one of them.
When he finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, he saw crystal blue eyes staring back at him with the same disinterest he knew had to be reflected in his gaze. She adopted a bored look as her two minions continued pawing at her.
His gaze moved purposefully to her hair. Jet-black strands shot in different directions and a neon pink streak of color ran from the top of her scalp down the side of her head on the left side.
“Nice hair,” he said.
Amusement glimmered for a moment in her eyes before she looked pointedly at Phillip and Barry.
Phillip stepped forward, a broad, indulgent smile on his face, and why should he be anything else when this chick was likely making him millions?
“Lyric, I’d like you to meet Connor Malone. He’s here from Malone and Sons Security. We’re talking to him about your upcoming stop in Houston.”
She flashed a challenging stare and didn’t extend her hand, but then, neither did he.
Finally she broke and looked over at Phillip. “You know my feelings on this. Why is he here?”
Connor almost smiled. Apparently she wasn’t any happier about the whole thing than he was. She crossed her arms over her chest, which only served to plump her small breasts upward. The swells peeked over the top of her corset and the pale skin glowed in the harsh light. Soft. A direct contrast to her demeanor.
Barry frowned and stepped forward. “Now, Lyric, we’ve discussed this. Malone and Sons comes highly recommended. You don’t have nearly enough security, and after the last few months, you of all people should see that you need more.”
She reached up to shove one of the bodyguards, who was nuzzling at her neck. Instead of being rebuffed, he settled back, a lazy smile on his face that suggested he’d be satisfied later.
If these were the morons charged with her safety, it was no wonder her record label was screaming for more. Their only concern seemed to be how quickly they could get into her pants.
Her gaze found his again, and her eyes narrowed. He looked calmly back at her, refusing to be the one who backed down. He didn’t much care if she could read his disgust. It was doubtful he could hide it anyway. No one was that good an actor.
His skin started prickling in peculiar awareness. The back of his neck itched something fierce, but he wouldn’t give an inch in this silent tug-of-war.
“I don’t like you,” she finally said.
To his utter horror, he went hard.
He smiled then. A lazy, “I don’t give a fuck” grin. It was either that or groan at his growing discomfort, and he’d eat nails before allowing her to know how affected he was by her. “The feeling, Ms. Jones, is entirely mutual.”
She frowned, then slipped an arm around one of the giants at her side, who immediately leaned down to kiss her cheek. The other huddled in close on her other side and she slanted a sly grin up at him.
She may as well have worn a sign that said “I’m fucking both of them” for all the discretion she exercised.
“I’d invite you to join us, Mr. Malone, but somehow you seem too uptight.”
He chuckled and prayed she couldn’t see his erection, because . . . damn. “I’m afraid I’m a bit choosier than you are when it comes to my bed partners.”
Color tinged her cheeks and then she turned away, both guards immediately surrounding her as she walked to the door.
Phillip cleared his throat next to Connor. Connor glanced up.
“Lyric is, uhm, shall we say a little difficult?” Phillip began.
Connor was beginning to think it was her standard description. He held up his hand. “Save it. You don’t have enough money to make me take this job. I’d have to be fucking insane.”
He was already goddamn insane because from the moment she said she didn’t like him, his cock had roared to life and said, Come get me.
The very last thing he wanted was a bratty pop star around him twenty-four/seven, one who gave him a hard-on every time she argued with him.
He’d be nothing but a walking erection.
Lyric walked into her suite and fended off Trent when he went for her top. Surprise flashed in his eyes when she instead headed for the minibar to pour herself a glass of water.
R.J. sidled over to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Something wrong, Lyric?”
She shrugged him off, unable to explain why she could suddenly not bear for either of them to touch her.
“Just not in the mood,” she said darkly.
Trent chuckled. “But, sugar, you’re always in the mood.”
“Not tonight,” she said sharply. “I just want to be . . . alone. Okay?”
The two men looked at each other in shock, then stared back at her as if she’d lost her mind. And maybe she had. Alone? What was she thinking? She didn’t do alone. Ever. The only thing worse than being alone was being one-on-one with someone. She didn’t like either option and surrounded herself with people even in sleep.
But tonight? Yeah, she could do alone. Connor Malone’s disapproving stare had rattled her. Way more than she’d ever admit aloud. She got plenty of that on a regular basis. Thrived on it, even. She didn’t give a rat’s ass what people thought of her and had made it her mission in life to give the public as much ammunition as possible. So why did one condescending asshole get under her skin so badly?
She shook her head but couldn’t get his sneer out of her mind. He made her uncomfortable. As if he could see right past her shields, all her secrets and all her fears. It was as if he’d seen her naked and vulnerable and hadn’t been at all impressed. But then, why should he be?
“Lyric, are you all right?” R.J. interrupted. She could hear the worry in his voice, but at the moment she didn’t care and didn’t have the mental energy necessary to reassure him.
She waved dismissively at them and turned away. It was a clear signal for them to leave, and they’d be fools to ignore it. The
y might be intimate with her, but sex was all they offered. They weren’t her friends. Weren’t her confidants. She didn’t have those.
When she heard the door open and close, she turned back to survey the empty suite. Cold panic clawed at her throat and she took several long, steadying breaths. Sweat that had nothing to do with her exhaustive performance beaded on her forehead, and she could feel nausea well in her throat.
She gazed around, absorbing the loneliness that surrounded her like fog. It seeped into her skin. Wrapped around her bones until she was paralyzed by its grip.
She crossed her arms over her chest. Gripped her arms with her fingers and then rubbed up and down to assuage the coldness that emanated from the inside out.
Connor Malone had looked inside her. He’d looked past the flashy, brassy veneer and stared coldly at her. Disapproving. She’d felt stripped bare before him and it pissed her off. He was nobody to her. Just some flunky that her record label wanted to hire to babysit her. Fuck that.
They wanted someone to rein her in, and that cold bastard would probably delight in doing just that. Over her dead body.
She grabbed on to the anger, harnessed it like someone desperate to ride the wind. The alternative was fear.
A knock sounded at her door and she flew to open it, relief rocketing through her system. She yanked it open to see Phillip and Barry standing there in their smarmy executive clothing, but in that moment, she was so relieved to see them, she didn’t care.
“Lyric, are we disturbing you?” Phillip asked.
She shook her head and opened the door wider. “Come in. Can I get you a drink?”
They walked inside and looked around, surprised, she knew, to find her alone. Phillip shrugged out of his expensive coat and tossed it over the back of the couch. “We need to talk, Lyric.”
She bristled at his tone and donned her best belligerent sneer. “You can talk. I don’t have to listen.”
Barry, who didn’t do confrontation very well, looked as though he wanted to be anywhere but here. Which was fine because she wasn’t too crazy about here either.
“You need Connor Malone—”
“I don’t need anybody,” she said icily.
“You need him,” Phillip said firmly. “I’ve let things go on as long as I’m going to. You’re in breach of contract and I’ve let it go. Until now. Connor Malone basically told me to fuck off and headed back to Houston. You’re going to go there and do whatever it takes to make him reconsider.”
Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he said grimly. “I’m not giving you a choice, Lyric. You’ll do this or you’ll be out on your ass, and trust me, even as big as you are, I don’t see another record label lining up to pick you up with all the shit you’ve pulled.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t threaten me, Phillip.”
His expression softened just a bit, but determination still glinted in his eyes. “Things can’t go on as they are, Lyric. You’ve been lucky, but sooner or later, your luck is going to run out. We need Connor Malone to buy us some time to hire more security whether you like it or not. He’s not any happier over the arrangement than you are. I’ve put in a call to his boss, who’s going to lean on him. I want your ass in Houston to reinforce the issue. You’ll be nice. You’ll be accommodating. You’ll do what it takes to make him agree to the job. And then,” he said, putting up a finger, “you’re going to behave yourself.”
She set her jaw until her teeth ached. She opened her mouth to argue but he shut her down with one swift shake of his head.
“Don’t speak. You’ll fly out after the show this weekend. That’ll give him and you a few days to cool off.”
He snapped his fingers at Barry and the two of them walked out of her room, closing the door with a sharp bang. She sank onto the couch like a deflated balloon.
She ran agitated fingers through her hair, pulling on the ends in repetition. Connor Malone was an arrogant ass. But more than that, he frightened her. And that pissed her off.
He was smug and too damn good-looking. Her brow wrinkled in irritation. Good-looking? Yeah, he was. It might get her goat to admit it, but he was exactly the sort of man she was attracted to. Tall. Strong and silent. And blond. Muddy blond with different tones and shades, like he spent a lot of time out in the sun. He wasn’t pretty blond, but rugged, yummy blond. She had a weakness for blonds. She didn’t normally go for the good guy, military-type cut, but on him it looked good. It looked damn good. Just added to his badass appearance.
He had those piercing green eyes that saw way too much. He cut through the layers at supersonic speed. Maybe he was some goddamn superhero. She laughed. Maybe he was supposed to be her goddamn superhero.
Yeah, she could have taken him back to her room if not for the fact they loathed each other on sight. She couldn’t even say she’d had an instant reaction to him. Her dislike had been in self-defense. More of an “I hate him because he hates me” response.
And now Phillip wanted her to fly to Houston and grovel? Jesus. She didn’t grovel. Ever. The mere thought nearly choked her.
Why did she need Connor fucking Malone? She didn’t need goddamn anyone, and that was the way she liked it. Connor could take his self-righteous prig self and take a long walk off a short pier.
She leaned farther back on the couch and propped her feet on the coffee table. She shouldn’t have sent Trent and R.J. away. They could be having hot, sweaty sex right now and she could slip into oblivion. Instead she was mad as hell because if she wanted to stay employed, she was going to have to go play nice with some good old boy without a sense of humor.
For a moment she was tempted to call Trent and R.J. back. They’d be more than happy to climb into bed with her, and then she wouldn’t feel so terribly alone. But try as she might, she couldn’t make the disapproving look on Connor Malone’s face dissolve from her memory. And it pissed her off even more that it had mattered.
CHAPTER 3
C onnor stalked into Malone’s with the beginnings of a headache already wracking his brain. His flight from L.A. had been delayed. He’d spent six hours in Dallas, and just when he was ready to say fuck it and hire a damn car and drive the five hours to Houston, his flight had boarded.
Then, when he’d landed, he had six voice mails, three of them from Pop and another three from Micah, who’d delighted in giving him hell about his meeting with the pop diva. Asshole.
“Hey, you’re back,” Faith called from her office as he passed.
His frown eased into a smile, and he backed up to Faith’s doorway. “Yeah, I’m back. Finally. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
“Heard it didn’t go too well,” she said, her green eyes bright with sympathy.
He gave up the idea of sneaking to his office to blow off some steam and sauntered into Faith’s office, where he slouched in a seat in front of her desk.
“Let me guess. Micah has been regaling you with tales of my torture.”
Mirth glistened in her eyes as she tried to stifle her laughter. “Well, uhm, yes. I’m afraid he has.”
“Jackass,” Connor muttered.
“Was it that bad?”
Connor sighed. He loved his sister dearly, and he had no intention of bitching at her for the better part of an hour. So he ignored the question. “Where’s Gray and Nathan?”
She accepted the change in subject with her usual good nature, but her eyes gleamed speculatively as if to say she’d get the dirt later. Yeah, she was sweet, but she could also be downright evil.
“They’re out on a job. Pop should be in shortly, and, to be honest, I have no idea where Micah is.”
“Damn.”
“Avoiding Pop?” she asked, her lips quivering with another smile.
“It’s pointless. The old coot would just show up at my apartment.”
Faith did laugh then. “Yes, he would. He’s been muttering under his breath about insubordination and hardheaded employees ever since the record execs called
to tell him you’d walked.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “If he wants the job so damn bad, he can send Micah. He’d totally dig the chick.”
“And you don’t.”
“She’s . . . she’s . . . I don’t have words.”
“Wow, Connor Malone speechless. And over a woman. Never thought I’d see it.”
He glared at her. “It’s not what you think. She’s . . .” He couldn’t even finish. Faith burst into laughter, her long blond hair shaking over her shoulders. She reached up to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes and kept on laughing.
He rolled his eyes heavenward and wondered if asking for a sudden lightning bolt would be asking for too much.
“There you are.”
Connor flinched when Pop’s raspy voice filled the room. “Here I am,” he muttered, not turning around in his chair.
Pop ambled up and smiled at Faith. “Your husband said to tell you that he’s going to be running late and for you not to wait on him.”
Her cheeks pinkened, and a soft smile spread over her features. “Guess I’ll head out, then.”
Traitor, Connor mouthed at her.
She winked, then collected her purse and headed for the door.
Pop turned his hard stare on Connor. “Now. You.”
Connor held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it, Pop.”
Pop grunted. “Well, you’re going to hear it.” He leaned against Faith’s desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t care what happened in L.A. This job is a personal favor to a friend. I told him we’d do it, and I can’t spare one of the others to do it. You’re it.”
Connor set his teeth together. “Just because they all had the poor sense to get all fucked-up over a woman and think they need to all be married does not mean that I get every shitty job that crosses your desk now.”
Pop snorted. “No sense getting your panties in a wad. You’re acting as bad as that pop star you don’t want to babysit.”
Connor scowled but Pop held up his hand. “I’m asking as a favor.”
