by Joanna Blake
But lately it just wasn't the case. He felt… empty. Sparring with that hot little label exec had been the most excitement he'd had in years. The woman was a bloody brilliant adversary, and she knew it.
And now she'd tricked him into doing something he hated. Worse, it was something he feared. What if he looked foolish? Uncool? That would be it. His career would be over. Then he really would be touring second rate houses.
Exclusively.
Even worse, he'd be performing on weekdays. Only. It was fine to do a Thursday now and then, but the really big names mostly performed on Fridays and Saturdays.
He shuddered.
Without all the glittery facade, he really didn't have anything. If he lost his glimmer, he wouldn't be anyone… He’d be a has-been.
Marley walked in with Sandy, his personal trainer. She smiled a brilliantly at him. Sandy was a gorgeous, incredibly fit and tan California girl with golden highlights. He sighed in relief.
Something to get his mind off of all of this… thank God.
As with everything, Nick pushed himself to excess. Even though he partied hard, he’d never let his muscles go to fat. He knew that his physical condition was remarkable, especially considering what he put his body through partying all these years.
Still, he knew how to baby himself. Smoothies, the occasional detox and working out with Sandy. Usually after a session, they worked out a little more.
In the bedroom.
She put him through his paces, using kettlebells and his own body weight for the most part. He did about a hundred squats on a stability board. Then two hundred pushups on the damn, wobbly thing. Then they took a quick run on the beach to really get the burn.
They were walking back up the steep stairs to his house when Sandy raised her eyebrows at him. He shook his head at the unspoken invitation.
"Sorry love. I'm a bit distracted."
"I noticed that. Everything alright?"
He forced a smile.
"Absolutely. Just working out the details of a new tour and… lots of other tedious things that I won't bother you with."
She smiled, not offended. Sandy was like a man in that way. To her, sex was just sex.
"Okay, Nick. I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure you hydrate."
He toasted her with a chilled bottle of mineral water.
She pecked his cheek and was off. The woman charged an arm and a leg but she was the best personal trainer around. She'd also turned into a friend, on top of the mind boggling sex you could have with a woman who used to be a gymnast. Besides, he could afford her rates so why not?
Nick sighed and guzzled his water. At least working out had cleared his head a bit. He would be fine on the TV show. Far greater idiots did this shite every day and came off smelling like roses.
He could manage to sound somewhat intelligent for ten bloody minutes! He was Nick Falcon for God’s sake!
Marley chose to interrupt that brief moment of bliss.
Why he had allowed his cousin/assistant/manager to live here was beyond comprehension. They were attached at the bloody hip. At the very least he should have tucked the bugger away in a guesthouse.
He scratched his chin.
Did he even have a guesthouse? Then he shook his head. It didn’t matter. He knew why he wanted Marley close, even if he was a pain in the bollocks half the time.
Marley was his best friend, that's why. Christ, who was he kidding? Marley was his only friend.
Everyone else was just hired help or a hanger-on. All he had was family. His mum and Marley.
Thank God for them. Otherwise, he expected he’d have gone off the deep end long ago. He’d be washed up, stuck in the rehab merry-go-round. Or dead.
Marley was holding a piece of paper.
"This came for you."
"What is it?"
"It's from her."
He didn't have to specify who he was talking about. Blast it if he didn't know instantly.
Little Miss Sabrina Newton.
Damn but the woman was becoming a thorn in his side. He couldn't help but smile when he thought of her though. She was like a sexy school teacher. A strict one. He felt his body respond to the thought of her instructing him.
In the bedroom, of course.
First she could boss him around, tell him what to do. He’d like that. And then he'd teach her a whole new bag of tricks.
She looked like a virgin, come to think of it. Why else would she have cried when he came on to her? Unless it was like Marley said and he’d made it hard for her to do her job.
A career woman. How fascinating. He’d never had one before.
He sighed in exasperation, though it was all an act. He couldn’t bloody wait to hear what she had to say.
"Oh bloody hell, what does she want now?"
"Uh… it says 'talking points.' It looks like it's for the interview."
"Great just what I need. As if I needed help coming up with things to fucking chat about. Anything else?"
"Yeah- the last page has a note."
"Well what does it say?"
"It says… 'Don't show up drunk'."
He snorted a laugh. The woman had a lot of gall telling him what to do. She worked for him, didn't she? Or at least for the label that he'd single-handedly kept afloat for the past decade. But she needn't have worried on that point regardless.
Nick was far too nervous to drink.
Chapter 10
Sabrina
Sabrina smoothed her black Herve Leger dress down over her hips. She turned to the side to make sure she looked professional in it. It fit like a glove but the classic bandage style dress was classy enough for a work event.
Tonight, she was going to get Nick Falcon on TV.
Not just sober, either. He had to be well-mannered, charming, exciting and dynamic.
She had to make sure he was good.
Being sober was just the first step. She'd been texting with Marley all day. The guy was funny, rough around the edges, but he seemed to have his heart in the right place. He definitely looked after Mr. Falcon.
Somebody had to.
She'd been reading up on her client's exploits for the past twenty-four hours. She never read gossip magazines but once she started, she went straight down the rabbit hole.
Nick had been married to three supermodels. Three. Super. Models. You would think he would date an actress to break up the monotony, but no. He really seemed to have a type. Light blond hair, tall, skinny as a rail.
Nothing like her at all.
Which was funny, because she could have sworn he had a crush on her. Or at least, he wanted to go to bed with her. Meanwhile, he was also treating her like the enemy. It made no sense at all.
She was the complete opposite of his regular type. No matter how much she ran, she had a very curvy shape. An hourglass they called it. Not that she was heavy. She didn't have time to gain weight. Plus her hair was dark blond.
He seemed to really like bleached out, drugged out look.
She shrugged. None of that mattered. After what she'd read about him, there was no way she would ever sleep with him, let alone date the guy. So he might as well give up now.
Where the hell had that come from?
Get a grip Sabrina. Why was she even thinking about that? It's not like he'd even asked her out. He only asked to- what was it again?
Oh right.
Rub his wang on her tits.
Classy.
Nobody had ever spoken to her that way before. She was still outraged that he would mention his private parts to a woman he had just met. Hell, he'd mentioned her private parts too. All in one, incredibly vulgar sentence.
The kicker was, she was woefully inexperienced. No one had ever rubbed their, um, thing on her breasts. She hadn’t dated since college, and she’d kept that on the light side for sure. After that, well, it had seemed like a bad idea.
She had responsibilities. Her mother would be disappointed if she didn’t live up to her potential. She was the
daughter of two hard-working immigrants.
Even though her mother was gone, she would never, ever disappoint her.
So yeah, he’d shocked the hell out of her.
Not that she was a prude exactly but- that was disgusting. She'd gotten a clear visual of him gleefully waving his dick in the air too. She frowned. Something about that was intriguing somehow. No matter how piggishly he'd suggested it.
Sabrina pushed the image aside. She had business to attend to. Business with a very difficult, but equally important, client.
Clearly Nick Falcon was used to doing and saying whatever he wanted to. But that was going to stop now. Today. Definitely before he went on the air. She grabbed her purse and briefcase and walked out to her car.
Chapter 11
Nick
Marley was pacing in the green room while Nick watched. He grabbed a handful of grapes from the platter left out for them, popping several in his mouth.
"Mate. You are driving me mad."
"Sorry, I'm just nervous. Where is she anyway?"
Nick shrugged. He was feeling a bit put out that Sabrina wasn't there to be honest.
"I'm the one who is supposed to be nervous. You sit, I'll pace."
Marley sat down and immediately started jiggling his leg, making his keys jangle noisily. Nick knew how he felt. His nerves were out of control. He was worried that he'd over dressed in his gray Armani suit and plum silk shirt. At least he'd resisted all of Marley's attempts to get him to wear a tie.
He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up accidentally. Damn, the hairstylist would have his knickers for that. Not that he was wearing any. He patted the top of his head and then gave up. His wavy hair always did what it wanted to anyway.
Nick glanced at the clock. The show was halfway over already. He was to be the last guest. He was, quite literally, almost on.
"Thank god you are here!"
Marley was on his feet. Nick turned to the doorway, expecting to see little Miss Priss in her corporate garb. What he saw instead stopped him in his tracks.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
Her outfit the other day hadn't done her justice. Hot as she was, this ensemble showed her assets to the fullest. He swallowed, realizing she was the best looking woman he'd ever seen.
Sabrina was wearing her golden hair pinned up in a chignon, which showed off her beautiful face and long, slender neck. Her dress was- dear lord- it looked like it had been poured onto her. He hadn't realized she was quite that curvy… he licked his lips as his mouth suddenly felt like the Goddamn Sahara.
He was still gawking at her, staring now at her stupefyingly long legs when she cleared her throat. Twice. How did the woman walk in those spindly heels? He liked them though. He liked them a lot.
He raised his dazzled eyes to her face. He was gratified to see that she looked a bit shell-shocked herself. He smiled suddenly. He didn’t look half-bad, if he said so himself.
"Nick. Are you ready?"
"Huh? Oh yeah, right. I'm ready."
"You read my talking points? List of topics to avoid?"
"Yes ma’am."
She cocked her head at him.
"I'm serious. Come here, let me smell your breath."
He grinned, ready to take her up on that offer. He'd be happy to let her smell his breath- while he was kissing her senseless.
"He hasn't had a drop all day, Ms. Newton. I can vouch for him."
Nick gave Marley a dirty look which only made the dolt look confused. Did he not know he was cock blocking him?
He smiled at Sabrina the way a lion smiled at a steak.
"You look lovely, my dear."
She looked a bit scandalized at the term of endearment. He didn't blame her. They'd been at odds since the moment they met, after all.
She had no way of knowing he’d been thinking about spending time with her nonstop. He was bloody well obsessed!
"Thank you. I was just stuck in traffic. I'm sorry I was late."
He raised an eyebrow at her words. He doubted she ever did anything wrong. An apology seemed out of character for her. He might only have known her a brief while, but he felt certain that he understood her already. What made her tick.
And right now, he was the one making her tick. Damn if she wasn't checking him out surreptitiously. The suit. It must be the suit.
He decided he should wear suits more often. He loved suits. Suits made the man, after all.
A young man with a clipboard and a headset poked his head in the doorway.
"You're on in two."
"Alright then, let's do this."
He held out his arms and did a slow turn for Sabrina's benefit. If she wanted to look, he was more than happy to let her.
"Do I pass muster then?"
She looked him over. He couldn't help noticing that she definitely seemed to like what she saw... even though she tried to hide it. That was interesting…
Very interesting indeed.
"You look good."
"Just good?"
She rolled her eyes.
"You know you're hot, Nick, just get out there already."
He was grinning from ear to ear as he stared at her. She started turning pink. He walked closer and leaned in.
"What?"
He leaned in and whispered in her ear.
"You finally called me Nick."
Chapter 12
Sabrina
Sabrina stood offstage, alternating between watching the monitor and the live interview happening just a few feet away. She felt the tension leaving her body, replaced with something else.
Blessed relief.
Well, mostly relief. She was feeling something else too. Something she was not pleased about. Even after the way he’d behaved, she liked him.
In fact, she was starting to develop a crush on her client.
Not good. Not good at all.
Nick was killing it. He oozed charm and confidence. He was telling stories about starting out as a scrappy English lad from a working-class neighborhood. Later he alluded to the scandalous behavior of several A-listers. He kept it lose and juicy. He made the host look good.
Sabrina felt herself responding to his winning manner. He was so warm and intimate. He made you feel like you knew him. Even better, he made anyone listening feel like he knew them.
He was truly irresistable.
Even she was falling under his spell by the time they cut to commercial. She caught Nick stealing a glance at her while he chatted with the host and sipped a bottle of mineral water. His gaze felt hot- almost palpable. She looked away, pretending to be doing something with her phone.
Coward.
She didn't know what was getting into her. She worked in the business for God's sake! She'd met tons of stars. Brilliant and talented artists. None of them had ever made her feel like this.
Particularly not after acting like such a pig. No, a goat. He was a stubborn, horny old goat.
Not that he was old exactly. Just older. She had a feeling he’d know what he was doing in bed. And then some.
Damn it.
The commercials were over relatively quickly and the interview continued. The host brought up something that hadn't been on the talking points. Warning bells went off in her head.
Uh oh.
"Nick, you are famous for not doing interviews. What changed your mind?"
"Well, I hope I'm famous for something other than that."
"Yes, of course. Your music has influenced a whole generation of artists. But, seriously, you've never made any appearance like this before. What's going on with that?"
"Well, I have a new rep at my label. She wanted me to do some interviews here and there. Get the word out about my upcoming tour."
"She just asked you? That's all it took after all this time?"
"She's very persuasive."
He wiggled his eyebrows at the host, obviously implying that Sabrina was giving him something else entirely. She felt like a fist had landed in her stomach.
He wouldn't.
He couldn't.
"She must be very convincing."
“I’m telling you, she could convince a sheep out of its trousers. I mean- wool."
He laughed and covered up his supposed mix up. But Sabrina wasn't fooled. He'd done it on purpose.
He was getting even with her.
The rest of the interview went by in a haze. She stood there, feeling utterly naked as people stared at her, whispering. And this was nothing compared to what they would do when she got to the office tomorrow.
He'd just ruined her career with a casual comment.
He'd destroyed her.
Everything she'd worked for was gone.
The host was giving his closing remarks and plugging the next show while Nick sat there, looking supremely relaxed.
Finally, they clasped hands and it was over. He came off stage and smiled at her.
"Well love, how did I do?"
Chapter 13
Nick
Nick was feeling rather pleased with himself. He'd managed the interview well- much better than that in fact. He'd nailed it.
And he'd managed to get a little dig in at Sabrina by implying she'd slept with him. Staring at her in that dress off camera during the commercial had given him the idea.
Never mind that he was starting to desperately wish that it was true. The girl had some sort of hold over him. That never happened. All his prior relationships had been ones of convenience. Hot sex, yes. But mostly he'd just gone with the flow when one gorgeous girl or another fell into his lap.
He’d never pursued a woman in his life. Even back in the day, before the fame and fortune, birds had flocked to him. He’d been the same with all of them. Affectionate and pleasant but not all that interested in anything. Nothing beyond a bit of a rollaround in the sheets.
This was something else entirely.
He'd walk through bloody hell to get this girl in the sack. Flames, pitchforks and all.
