by Maggie Marr
“Johnny,” Tasha turned toward me. “This is the man of the hour, Rhett Delgado.”
“Don’t you mean Legend Delgado?” Johnny asked. “Good to meet you, guy, hear from Terrell your sound is off the hook.”
Ten minutes ago, meeting Johnny Tucker would have been a fucking dream come true. I loved this guy. I loved his music, his sound, his writing style. I knew every riff and every chord. But now, here, after watching him lock his lips on Tasha and then see the smirk on his face combined with his insinuation that I hadn’t earned my way here made me want to wipe that sly smile off his face.
“Johnny is going on tour soon,” Tasha said. “I thought maybe you two meet, dig each other, we might have a match.”
A match? My heartbeat picked up and the anger slid from my body. I was a smart guy. I could pretend to like anyone for a slot on Johnny Tucker’s summer tour. I mean, a nod from Johnny Tucker would be a good way to hit the charts hard. To get my name out there and, with a little luck from the gods, pop Bad Double into the top of the charts.
“Well, man, let’s see,” Johnny said. “Let’s go on over and share a bottle and talk. Maybe see if we can’t find something we like about each other.”
“Sounds good,” I said. I looked at Tasha. Her eyes read me. She’d saved me from my own anger by letting me know about Johnny’s tour and the possibility of us opening for him.
“You boys have fun,” she said and glanced at the bevy of beauties already sprawled out on the couches waiting for Johnny and me.
“Oh, we will, baby,” Johnny said. “You remember how much fun I can have?”
“I do,” Tasha said, but her eyes locked with mine. “I most definitely do.” Then she turned and walked toward the door, my eyes on her ass.
“Here,” Johnny said and unwrapped the arm of a redhead to his left. “Take one of these.” He settled her arm around my neck. She melded to my side, her breast pressed into me. “Because no matter how bad you want that,” he said and nodded toward Tasha’s perfectly curved but retreating ass, “You won’t get it.”
Heat flashed though me. Was it anger over Johnny’s statement or anger over the realization that he was probably right? He held out his arm and another one of the girls that had been trailing in his wake snuggled tight to me. “There’s no musician ever who’s going to get a piece of that ass,” Johnny said. “I ruined that. No musician but me.”
He walked past me and toward the long lush red velvet sofa at the far end of the VIP section. The redhead nibbled my ear. Her hot and tight little curves pulled close. My eyes tracked Tasha as she trailed through the club, and then she was past the crowd and through the door. Fuck it. Johnny was right. She might want me and I might want her, but she’d made it pretty fucking clear that musicians and our lifestyle weren’t ever going to be a part of her reality. Why fucking chase what I couldn’t have? I placed my fingers under the redhead’s chin and tilted her face to mine. If I couldn’t be with the girl I wanted then fuck it; I would want the one I was with.
Chapter 6
Tasha
There was a conversation I needed to have with Rhett. A conversation I’d avoided now for almost a week. Calling him after his night out with Johnny wasn’t an option because I knew how Johnny partied. That one night at The London probably turned into a week’s worth of debauchery. I wanted the whole event to be done and the memories in Rhett’s mind to fade before I spoke to him. I didn’t want to hear about his conquests, the group sex, and the drugs. That part of my life was finished. Done. I couldn’t do any of that anymore and still feel like my best self. It took me a long time with, and then after, Johnny to sort out that while I wanted him, I didn’t want all that came with his rock star life. I couldn’t be in that life, give a musician my heart, and come out the other side. I wanted an existence closer to what I’d had as a child. Before Mom and Dad split. When they were still in love. When I still believed that music and musicians were a beautiful thing that would never hurt me or cause me pain.
“We have the latest cover,” David entered my office. “I just emailed it to you.”
I clicked on my computer and saw a picture of Rhett with no shirt, leather jeans, and those dammed dark eyes smoldering at me. Behind him stood Darren and Trevor and Max. They looked hot, too, and of course there would be girls and groupies for them, but the main attraction would be Rhett. The main attraction would always be Rhett.
“Have you talked to him about his name?”
I shook my head.
“You need to. We tested both names and Legend tracks off the charts. Delgado—not so much. The music gets them, but they’re more likely to give it a listen if they know he’s the illegitimate kid of the world’s biggest star. Plus, his Dad? Can you imagine if Steve Legend ever showed up at a concert or an event? Tasha, we can’t buy that kind of publicity.”
“I know.” I clicked through all the cover options. All showing Rhett without a shirt. All with his name—Rhett Legend—plastered over the cover. All good. All hot. All making me wet with desire.
“He’s going to hate it.”
“It’s your job to sell it,” David said. “Do what you do. Use some of your dad’s magic pixie dust that all you Joneses seem to have. He was able to convince every artist to do what he wanted. You think Aileen wanted to do that duet with Willie Nelson? No way. You think Mama T wanted that provocative album cover? Not even. He got them to do it. He convinced them.”
“And I watched.”
“And you watched. Now work that magic on Rhett. Because him being Rhett Legend is the difference between selling a million albums the first weekend, or waiting three months to maybe make the same number of sales.”
“I know.” I’d been postponing the conversation. I needed to convince Rhett to use his father’s name on the album, but who could blame me for putting it off? I knew he’d be pissed at the mere suggestion.
“Use your charm,” David said. “You’ve got enough to spare.”
I smiled at David. He’d worked with my dad since I was in grade school. Daddy had trusted him and I did, too. I was so glad he’d agreed to stay with me at Left Coast even after the debacle with my uncle. He had white hair and always wore jeans and an opened button-down shirt. Sometimes he’d throw a sports coat on, but he’d never been one for suits. Daddy had always gone to work in a suit and tie. Only on the weekends did we ever see him in casual wear. His artists seemed to appreciate how professional he was. He’d always been better at the social part of this job … maybe not better—maybe just more comfortable.
Me? I always felt a little awkward, especially taking out male artists for drinks and dinner. I never wanted them to get the wrong idea. I made it pretty clear that I didn’t date artists. Johnny and Rhett weren’t the only ones who’d tried, just the only ones who’d gotten anywhere.
I took a long labored breath. “I’ll take him to dinner. Try to convince him to say yes.” I looked at David. “I’d better do it in a public place, that way he can’t throw a fit.”
“You’re kidding, right?” David said. “We’re talking about the same guy? The one who took a swing at his brother at his sister’s wedding?”
“Right, I know, but still, he isn’t so stupid that he’d throw a punch at me.”
“He might not make a fist, but he could hit you with something else. A demand? A change to his contract? Just be prepared.”
I could think of all kinds of below the belt things that Rhett could try on me. One of them included a reprise of the scene we’d had together at his apartment. Preventing Rhett from making a scene wasn’t the only reason I wanted to meet him in a public place. The primary reason was my attraction for him and his attraction for me. I picked up my phone and David walked to my office door.
“Good luck,” he said.
“Thanks, I’m going to need it.” I finished dialing and waited for an answer. Rhett’s phone went straight to voicemail. Surely he wasn’t still partying with Johnny? The wrap party for his album had been nearly a wee
k before, but for all I knew they’d headed to Bali or Belize to catch some waves or some sun.
“Hey, Rhett, it’s Tasha. Wondered if you were available to grab dinner this week. Ring me when you have a moment.” I clicked off my phone and turned back to my computer. Those black eyes smoldered at me and my body tingled. Yes, a public place was exactly where I needed to meet Rhett. Anywhere else would be much too dangerous.
Rhett
After three days at the Chateau Marmont the party moved to Johnny’s Bel Air spread. The place was enormous. The perfect location for the action going down. Trevor and Darren and Max had tapped out days ago, but with the help of some stimulants, some booze, some lovely, lovely ladies and a couple of power naps I’d managed to roll through about seven days of full-on rock star mode. Until my nose started to bleed from the coke and my dick hurt from all the sweet pussy. Then I’d crashed. Alone in a bedroom, somewhere in Johnny’s house. There were so many bedrooms the place looked like a fucking hotel. I could live here and Johnny wouldn’t even fucking notice.
“Dude!” Johnny pounded on the bedroom door. I rolled out from between the two hotties in bed with me and yanked open the door. Johnny stood in the hallway butt naked. “Your phone.” He shoved it at me, and then turned away.
A girl with long black hair stood at the far end of the hall wearing nothing but a red silk tie around her hands. “Come on, baby,” Johnny said. “I’ve got things to show you.” They walked away from my room. I flipped over my phone and looked at my missed calls. Two from Sophia. Eight from Ellen, of course. Ellen was the worrier. She would have envisioned me dead in a ditch by now. One from Trevor, and one from Darren. Amanda? Hmm, little sister did not give up easy.
Tasha. There it was. My heart tightened at seeing her number and name on the screen. I hit voicemail and listened.
Dinner? With me? Of course I wanted to call her right back and say fuck yes, but I wouldn’t. I’d let it stay in the ether for a couple of days. Let her think I didn’t care, didn’t need or want to see her. But who the fuck was I kidding? I’d do nearly anything to get a piece of that ass.
Tasha
“Our investigator thought for a brief moment that he’d found your uncle,” David said over the phone. “But now he’s gone.”
“How much longer are you going to stay down there?” David had left for South America yesterday to determine whether the private investigator was really doing his job. While I appreciated David’s commitment to finding Uncle Lewis, anxiety pitted my gut with the idea that my most trusted colleague was so far away from me.
“As long as it takes,” David said.
I walked into my bedroom and stood before the giant window that overlooked the ocean. “I don’t care about finding Uncle Lewis as much as I care about getting Left Coast’s money back.”
“With your uncle comes the cash,” David said.
“Maybe, maybe not. He could spend it, hide it, make it virtually impossible for us to ever recover it.” I entered my walk-in closet. My fingers brushed over soft silk, brocade, jersey knit. I pushed aside dress after dress. I wanted something that said business with a hint of sexy. I couldn’t go over-the-top sexy because with the attraction that rolled between Rhett and me, if I went too sexy, we’d end up in my bed, doing all the things I wanted him to do to me, but knew I shouldn’t.
“I spoke to Harold today,” David said. “The numbers are getting worse.”
My stomach plummeted. I wanted to hope that with my hard work I could save Left Coast, but each day brought another bad phone call with bad news.
“How is that possible?”
“It seems your uncle found access to a couple more accounts. I’ve changed everything. I’ve contacted distributors. I’ve even got a court order in place. He can’t get anywhere near Left Coast now, but he’s done some substantial damage. If you can make it through the next eight weeks, and Rhett’s album is a hit, then you have a chance of pulling through.”
“Those are a whole lot of ifs.” I pulled out a navy blue dress that I loved. A little more sexy than business, but I needed Rhett Delgado to say yes to becoming Rhett Legend. He had to say yes. We needed his album to be an immediate hit and the best shot we had was to utilize the built-in name recognition of Legend. The press would eat Rhett’s story with a spoon. There would be no begging for on-air interviews, no trading of favors to get playtime. No, with Rhett’s story of being a long-lost Legend, people would be begging our publicity department to let them tell Rhett’s story.
“Did you talk to Rhett?” David asked.
“Tonight,” I said and lay the dress on the center island in my closet. I had to convince Rhett to let Left Coast release his album under the Legend name. I didn’t have the time or the capital to spare. Left Coast needed an immediate success. I was willing to do nearly anything to save Daddy’s company. That included wining and dining Rhett.
“Like I said before, good luck with that conversation,” David said.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m definitely going to need it.”
*
“No fucking way.” Rhett was sitting on my couch having a nightcap and he jerked upright.
Rhett’s angry gaze made me believe his words.
“My name is Rhett Delgado and that is how I am releasing this album.”
“Rhett, you need to listen to me—”
He stood and picked up his jacket. “I said no.”
“Rhett, sit down.”
He folded his arms over his chest.
“Sit down, Rhett, you’re acting like a child.”
My tone or perhaps the hard look on my face burst through his adolescent-like facade, because Rhett sat back down and took a long pull of his beer.
“If I release your album under the name Delgado it may or may not be a hit. But it will take a lot longer for the album to be a success. If we release the album under the Legend name people will pick up it up out of curiosity. Then the music will pull them in. We’ve done test groups and focus groups. The marketing team has been over this a million times. You have a much bigger chance of being a success as Rhett Legend than as Rhett Delgado.”
His eyes blazed at me.
“This is a business decision,” I said. “You need to get your personal feelings out of this and make the best decision for your business. For your career. I’m telling you what the best decision is and now you have to trust me.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Trust? Really? You’re going to talk to me about trust when you pre-judged me the moment you met me?”
I jerked my head back. “What are you talking about? You have a great contract and Left Coast is doing everything we can to make your album a huge success—”
“Tasha,” Rhett said. His eyes still contained heat but they had softened and there was no longer anger in his gaze. “I’m not talking about the album. I’m talking about us. You and me.”
“Us? There isn’t any us. There is only business.”
“Cut the crap, Tasha. We both feel what’s between us. I see it in your eyes and I can barely stop myself from wrapping my arms around you and pulling you into me every time I see you. Was the treatment I got when I had laryngitis standard Left Coast protocol, or do you make out with all your musicians?”
Heat flushed up my neck and flooded my face. “That’s enough, I don’t want to discuss—”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this conversation making you uncomfortable?” Rhett leaned forward across the table and the corner of his mouth hitched upward in that sexy, yet irritating way. “Am I pissing you off? Am I challenging a decision that you made a long time ago, before you met me, based on the behavior of some asshole who wasn’t me?”
I felt sick. Rhett leaned back in his chair with a smug look of satisfaction on his face. He’d pegged me and my decisions, as well as his own, in one sentence.
“Seems our decisions are based on similar facts,” Rhett said. “You won’t date a musician because of the asshole you were involved with, and I won’t use the Legen
d name because of the asshole that I’m involved with.”
I sighed and lifted an eyebrow. “Your point?” My belly tingled with a hint of anxiety. I knew where he was going with this. It was a place I didn’t want to inhabit. A position I didn’t want to be in.
“Really? A girl as smart as you needs me to spell it out? This is a simple exchange,” Rhett said. “I’ll give you my name if you give me a chance.”
“I already gave you a chance,” I said. “I gave you a record deal.”
“That was a business decision,” Rhett said. “Before you met me. Using Legend on my album instead of Delgado isn’t just a business decision for me. Going by Legend is me pushing aside a whole bunch of fucked-up shit in order to be a success. It’s me doing the one thing I swore I would never, ever do, and that is use my Dad’s last name to get to my own success.”
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the inside of his jacket.
“I thought you gave those up?”
“Do you see a lighter?” Rhett pulled a cigarette from the pack and placed it between his lips. “If I go by Legend, I put aside a whole bunch of bullshit from my past, because you asked me to, and give the Left Coast marketing team their best shot at making me a star, and both of us a ton of money.” He pulled the unlit cigarette from his mouth and pointed it at me.
“I’m asking you to do the same thing.” He leaned closer to me, his gaze locked onto mine, and a tingle started low in my belly. “Forget everything you know about other musicians and give me a fair shot so we can explore these feelings.”
My breath caught in my lungs. Fear clutched my brain. I should say no. The logical part of my mind screamed no, but my heart and my body had other ideas. My body tingled with the thought of Rhett’s hands on my thighs, my hips, my breasts. His mouth, those full lips at which I now stared, clasped around my nipple. The heat that would tear through me with his touch. I wanted to explore these desires with Rhett.
