But Sam had been focused on Georgie—and now he was focused on the crowd. If he found Gina sexy, he was too cool to let it show.
And she was sexy. Too fucking sexy. Jack remembered the feel of her body beneath his, on top of his, but he’d convinced himself in the last three years that it hadn’t been as spectacular as he’d thought. But, wow, she was built for sex and sin. She had the kind of proportions that often resulted from surgery—but there wasn’t anything about her that was enhanced. No, it was all real. He knew it for a fact.
She sat at the piano now, in her rubber dress with her breasts ready to spill out at any moment, and rolled her fingers across the keys in a haunting melody that rose and fell along with her voice. Goddamn, she was good. Her voice was whiskey-smooth, husky and honeyed, and it took him back to those days when he’d come home and Hayley would have the music cranked up loud.
Had they made love to Gina’s sexy voice? He was almost positive they had, but he didn’t want to think about that right now.
Hell, he didn’t want to think about anything to do with Gina. Or Hayley. No, what he really wanted to do was climb into his Mustang, point the nose west, and just keep driving as fast and far away from here as he could go.
Gina hit a high note, her voice powering through it while the crowd screamed. And then she trailed off soft and low, her fingers skimming the keys like they were a lover’s body.
Her lashes dropped down, covering her green eyes, and her mouth pressed against the mic as she finished the song. And then she stood up and grabbed the mic from its holder. The number shot into overdrive then, pumping and thumping while she gyrated to the music.
Finally, the lights went down and the pyrotechnics exploded. Gina rushed off the stage while the dancers prepared for the next number. Her skin glistened with sweat as an assistant hurried over and blotted her face with a towel. Then the girl handed Gina a bottle of water, and Gina tipped it back and drained half of it.
She looked up and caught his gaze. For the barest of seconds, she smiled. And then she was gone again, back onto the stage and getting into position for the next song.
It went on like that for nearly two hours. Jack’s heart thumped with the bass beat, his ears throbbed, and his body ached as he watched the woman on stage and tried to reconcile that somehow, in some alternate universe, he’d had a child with her. It didn’t seem possible. She was so completely out of his orbit and nothing at all like the kind of woman he preferred. He’d grown up the only child of workaholic parents, but he’d had a best friend whose mother stayed home and baked cookies. He’d loved going to their house because Chris’s mother was so welcoming and warm and made him feel like he was one of her own.
He’d wanted a wife like that, one who baked cookies and did crafts and got messy with the children. Hayley was that kind of wife. Hayley would have been surrounded by kids and pets, and Jack would have loved going home and seeing his happy little family.
He watched Gina finish her last encore song, a rocking dance number from her catalog that he remembered her telling him she was tired of. But she gave it her all. Flames and steam shot from the stage, the lights went down, and the crowd roared. Gina was not a woman who would ever bake cookies or get messy with a kid.
If she had been that sort of woman, maybe their child would still be here now instead of with strangers who had yet to make their demands.
Gina rushed off the stage and straight toward him, her retinue in tow. He gritted his teeth and resolved not to stare at the jiggling flesh of her breasts.
“Has there been anything?” she asked, her green eyes wide and fearful behind the heavy makeup. “Any calls or demands of any kind?”
A pinprick of guilt speared into him for the thoughts he’d been having about her unsuitability. She obviously loved the kid. “No.”
“What’s taking them so long?” Her eyes filled with tears, and he realized that she’d been holding back the edge of panic for the last two hours while she performed. She’d gotten lost in her onstage presence, but now she was back and the real world had come crashing down on her.
Jack took her hand and led her away from the bustling activity on the stage. A woman who’d been introduced as her assistant walked beside her, chattering about a schedule. Jack reached the dressing room and opened the door. Gina went through and he stepped in front of it to block the woman—and the rest of the people who’d been trailing along behind them—from entering.
“Miss Domenico needs to be alone. Go away.”
The chatter rose to a fever pitch, but he stared them down hard and they subsided, slipping away into the shadows until it was quiet again. Jack went into the dressing room and closed the door firmly behind him.
He knew Sam and the ladies would be making their way here, but they would wait outside the room until he let them in.
Gina sat in a chair, her body hunched over a table, her head in her hands. There was a bottle of sparkling water beside her elbow. And there were roses everywhere. He blinked. They hadn’t been here when the concert started, but then what did he know about being a pop star? He walked over to the nearest one and flipped the card up. “You rock, Gina. Love, Barry.”
Her manager. If Barry were a little younger and a little less flamboyant, Jack might wonder about the relationship between them. But there was nothing to wonder, considering Barry acted more like a best girlfriend than anything else. Barry had also, Jack noticed, let his eye wander appreciatively over the team earlier.
If you liked that kind of thing, there were certainly a lot of muscles and tattoos among the HOT guys. And Barry definitely seemed to enjoy the view. He’d also seemed more than a little intimidated by their presence. He’d taken Gina aside for a quick conversation and then looked more tight-lipped than ever when it was over.
No, definitely not happy with the military muscle, even if he did like to look.
“Are these all from Barry?”
Gina looked up, her eyes red-rimmed. “Probably not, no. Sponsors, record executives, admirers.”
Jack eyed the flowers suspiciously. It was in his nature to consider all the ways in which someone could get to Gina, and there were a thousand places to hide a bug here.
He put his finger to his lips to keep her from saying anything about Eli or the kidnappers. Her brows drew down but she nodded. Smart girl.
“Great show tonight. Though I thought the dance numbers were something you wanted to move away from.”
She shrugged. “If I want the fans to accept the new music, then I have to give them the stuff they love too. And they are still my songs, so I perform them. It makes the fans happy.”
He’d listened to that screaming audience for two hours, so he knew it was true.
Gina stood. “I want to go back to the hotel.”
There was a knock and then Barry entered. “Great job, darling,” he gushed, going over to kiss her cheeks. “I’ve got the guy from Rolling Stone.”
Gina’s face fell. “I… I can’t right now. I have to get back—”
“Five minutes, sweetheart,” Barry wheedled. “You can do five minutes.”
Gina looked uncertain. And then her shoulders fell. “All right.”
“No,” Jack said, fury bubbling up inside him. Her kid was missing and this fucker wanted her to talk to people?
Both Gina and Barry swiveled their heads to look at him. He could see on her face that she didn’t want to give any interviews, and he wasn’t going to watch her get caught up in endless conversations at a time like this. She might not be a cookie-baking mother, but she loved Eli and she was terrified for him.
“I beg your pardon?” Barry had a terrier-like edge to his voice now.
“You know it’s not a good time,” Jack said. “Reschedule. Gina needs to get back to the hotel and we need to get on with business. This is far more important and you know it.”
Barry puffed up like a rooster. “It’s five goddamn minutes. And you’re the one who said she had to act normal.”
Jack told himself not to punch the guy.
Gina put her hand on the other man’s arm. “Five minutes, Barry. That’s all.”
Barry shot him a triumphant look before giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Then he disappeared through the door.
Jack’s temper spiked. “Why’d you fucking agree? He works for you, not the other way around.”
She gave him a look that would have made a weaker man cower. “Barry helped me get where I am today. I owe him. Besides, this is my career and my livelihood. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am, and if I have to talk to a reporter for five minutes, then I’ll do it. It’s part of normal. That was your idea, by the way, not mine.”
“Goddammit, that was earlier! Now you could tell that fucker no and move on.”
Her eyes sparked. “I don’t expect you to understand. But I also don’t expect you to order me around—to order my people around—as if you’re the one in charge, either. You got that, cowboy?”
Jack blinked. “Cowboy? I’m from fucking Florida, sweetheart. You see any shit-kickers on my feet?”
“No, but I imagine there’s a gun tucked away somewhere on your body. And I know what you can do with that, hotshot.”
He took a step toward her. “With what, sweetheart? With the gun? Or the body?”
He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she colored. She took a step back on her teetering platforms and fixed him with a hard look. “If you think for one second I was talking about anything but the gun, you’re sadly mistaken. Now either get out and wait for me, or sit down and be quiet when this reporter shows up.”
She turned her back to him and went over to fix her makeup. His temper boiled hot.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Miss Domenico,” he said between his teeth. Her spine stiffened, but she didn’t turn around. He ranged toward her and she watched him in the mirror, her eyes both wary and curious at once.
He was right behind her when he stopped. He could feel the heat rolling from her, could smell the sweat and perfume of her body. And damn if he couldn’t see the outline of hard nipples in that fucking rubber dress.
“Go ahead,” she said, her eyes sparking, her chin tilting up. “Give it to me.”
Jesus, he wanted to give her something all right. Something hard and long and aching with need. He reached out and put his hands on her bare arms. His fingers wrapped around her entire upper arm.
He could smell fear and desire on her and his balls tightened. She continued to stare at him in the mirror. But she didn’t try to pull away.
He dropped his hands suddenly, as if her skin burned. “Even if you were thinking about something other than my gun, I’m not interested,” he told her. “Not ever again. You’re gorgeous and you know it. But you’re a fucking liar—and I can’t stand a liar.”
He thought he saw a spark of pain in her eyes, but then her lashes dropped and her eyes were shielded from him. He almost felt like a dick, and yet he told himself he had every right to be pissed.
Damn, if she didn’t make him lose his way. He hadn’t started out to say such a thing, but it was out there now.
And it was the truth, damn her. She’d lied and flipped his life upside down.
He turned away and raked a hand through his hair. He didn’t like the way she made him feel. He was cool, methodical, and patient. Except he felt anything but cool and patient at the moment.
There was a knock at her door and Jack went over and jerked it open.
A man with short red hair stood on the other side. “Uhhh.…” he began.
Gina walked over and the man’s eyes widened. Then he swallowed.
Yeah, she had that effect.
He stuck out his hand. “Hello, Miss Domenico. I’m Pete Gibson from Rolling Stone.”
“Well, hey there, Pete. Please call me Gina.”
She was the consummate professional once more as she stood back and swept a hand toward the couch on the other side of the room. Jack almost envied her the ability to be cool when he couldn’t seem to find his anymore.
She sank down gracefully and the reporter joined her. But she looked up for a moment, her gaze catching Jack’s—and every ounce of pain and fear he saw reflected on her face made him feel like he’d failed her somehow.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GINA HAD BEEN TALKING to Pete Gibson for ten minutes when Jack interrupted and told her it was time to go. Part of her wanted to tell him to go to hell just on principle, but she was thankful more than anything. She was tired and wired, and she just wanted to go back to the hotel and wait for word from the kidnappers. She’d been able to lose herself in the music, but now that it was over, reality lay on her shoulders hard, the dread threatening to crush her like an old car in a scrapyard.
She gave Pete an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid this has to be the end of our interview.”
He stood at the same time she did, his skin flushing as she took his hand and gave him another smile.
“It was so nice to meet you, Pete. If you need anything else, just get in touch with Barry.”
“Yes, thank you, I will.”
She let Jack usher her out of the building, his fingers light against the small of her back. She climbed into the waiting limo and Jack joined her. It was just the two of them inside the big space, but the others would soon join them. The chauffeur shut the door and a few moments later the car began to move away from the curb.
“Where is everyone?”
Jack glanced at her, his expression unreadable. His jaw was stiff. “They went ahead just a few minutes ago. We put sunglasses and a hood on Olivia and raced her to the limo like she was you.”
Gina blinked as she realized there hadn’t been any photographers lined up and snapping photos when she’d exited the building. Olivia was blonder than she was, but with a hood and glasses, would it matter? The media would see what they wanted to see. “That was a good idea.”
“Yeah.”
She sighed and turned to look at the lights sliding by the car. She was tired, but the adrenaline moving through her veins also made her jumpy. It was always this way after a concert, but it felt doubly so now.
“How did you pull it off?”
Her head swiveled around to find Jack looking at her with those fathomless blue eyes of his. She could drown in those eyes. “I, uh…” She looked away for a moment to gather her thoughts. “Pull what off?”
“Everywhere you go, the attention is insane. And yet you managed to pull off a pregnancy that no one ever got wind of. How? Or is that a lie and you’ve said all this to get me and my team to help you?”
Anger flared inside her. And hurt. “You really are a bastard sometimes, you know that?”
He shrugged. “It’s a legitimate question, Gina. You’re a superstar. You can’t take a shower without a news bulletin, so I don’t know how you managed to be pregnant and no one found out. You didn’t disappear off the face of the planet, after all.”
She sighed and rubbed her hands over her knees. If he were anyone else, she’d tell him it was none of his business. But of course it was his business. “I never intended to lie about it, but when I found out I was pregnant, I knew I couldn’t face the media firestorm that would follow. I also didn’t think it was a good idea based on my last public romance and what happened to him. Everyone would assume Athenasios was the father. I didn’t want to deal with the Metaxas family—worse, would you have wanted me to have a public DNA test that proved Eli wasn’t Athenasios’s?”
“You didn’t know that at the time.”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. But I didn’t want anything to do with the Metaxases. Athenasios didn’t run his business alone. His brother Stavros took over the shipping company. For all I know, he also dealt in the same side business.”
“So you disappeared.”
“I spent time in Italy. Well, an island off the coast of Italy. And I was never big. At nine months, I didn’t have a large belly. It was noticeable, of course. But not huge. So I wo
re a lot of big clothes and I stayed away from people, other than the few I trusted. The doctor was paid well not to leak the news. I ‘adopted’ Eli later so there would never be any question of who his father was.”
“What’s on the birth certificate?”
He sounded angry. She didn’t blame him, but how could she possibly tell him everything she’d been going through then? She’d been scared and alone and confused. And she’d done what she thought was best for Eli’s safety.
She bowed her head and swallowed. Her throat hurt after an evening of singing. “Unknown.”
She could see him clench his fist in her peripheral vision. “You had a fifty-fifty chance of guessing the right man.”
“It was easier that way.”
“When we get him back, you’re going to correct that.”
His tone said he’d accept no other alternative, and yet she bristled at being told what to do. But didn’t he have that right? She’d revealed the truth to him, asked him for his help, so how could she possibly deny him the right to call Eli his? And yet it terrified her, too.
“All right,” she said softly.
“I don’t even know what he looks like.”
Tears blurred her vision. “Can I have my phone?” He’d been holding it for her in case there was a call during the concert.
He handed it over wordlessly. She put in her passcode and called up her photos. She found the most recent one of Eli, taken just this morning before she’d flown to DC. He’d been laughing and playing with his toy train. She’d snapped him when he’d looked up at her, his little blue eyes shining, his blond hair a mop of curls. His cheeks were rosy and fat. Her heart squeezed with all the love she felt for him.
She passed the phone wordlessly to Jack. He took it and sat there staring for the longest time. She managed to force herself to look at him. His profile made her heart skip. He was chiseled and handsome, and she felt again all the chaotic emotions she’d experienced back in that cave three years ago. Such hot, intense attraction. Safety. Belonging.
Hot Shot (A Hostile Operations Team Novel)(#5) Page 6
