Текст книги "Uncovering Desire"
Автор книги: Kacey Shea
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
CHICKEN SHIT. I’M BEING A total chicken shit.
It’s been thirteen days since Kate Bryant rocked my world. She was incredible in bed and I couldn’t get the damn woman out of my thoughts. Like a fucking coward I’d been successfully avoiding any direct contact with her. It was easier this way. I could avoid my feelings.
Today I have to face the music because Evie’s arranged an informal dinner in our apartment. She asked me to cook, thank God, because while Evie’s great at many things, preparing food is not one of them. I agreed, not wanting to seem weird or act different than I normally would, but inside I wanted to shout a resounding no.
Being stuck across the table from Kate and her infuriating and sensuous mouth for the next two hours seems cruel and unnecessary punishment. Especially since at the end of the evening I’ll be subjected to Evie and her boyfriend Tate stealing hot glances back and forth until I go to bed alone.
I’d rather go to bed with Kate.
Yep, that’s a problem. I can’t drive the images of our one night stand from my mind. The mere act of washing my hands invokes graphic illustrations of skin on skin, wet, needing, wanting. Damn it. There are so many ways I’d like to have her. And with a body like Kate’s my mind conjures endless possibilities.
Focus. I need to focus. Back to chopping veggies, I toss it all together for the Asian salad and everything’s prepared. The brown rice is steaming, and teriyaki chicken and steak skewers baking in the oven. At least the food will be good.
The doorbell rings and I know it’s Tate because Kate never uses the bell. She still has a key from when Evie lived here solo and would let herself in whenever she wanted. Evie jogs down the hall in a pair of bright green shorts and a black tank. “Coming!” she shouts, throwing open the locks. She swings the door open revealing a smiling Tate Reynolds.
Jumping into his arms, he catches her with a big hug. Tate’s the same height as I am, just over six feet tall with a strong muscular physique due to his full-time career as a personal trainer and fitness instructor at a local gym. He has tattoos all over his chest and upper arms. Whereas Tate’s hard and lean, Evie’s soft and luscious. She’s beautiful at five foot seven with her curvy figure and long super straight brown hair. Their opposites complement the other. He makes her happy and in turn I’ve conceded my feelings toward Evie.
There was a time a few months ago that I’d hoped she would want to begin a romantic relationship with me. Watching them together enlightens that Evie and Tate are meant to be. I’m only a little jealous because I hope to find that for myself one day.
The happy couple enters the kitchen holding hands. “Hey man, how’s it going?” I offer Tate a greeting.
“No complaints here. Life is good. Dinner smells good, man. Thanks for cooking and having me over.” Tate takes a seat at the small kitchen table. Evie busies herself in the kitchen, grabbing plates and silverware to set the small dining table.
“Yeah, no problem. I’m glad you have a night off to spend with us.” A rarity since Tate works evenings and helps his sister out with her boys during much of his free time.
Sticking a thermometer inside the meat I estimate another five minutes until it’s done. “Evie, you have an ETA on Kate? Dinner’s almost ready.” Our front door swings open with a loud bang. Lifting my chin to a frazzled, wild-eyed Kate waltzing through the threshold.
“I just got the worst news of my life. Well not worst news, but close to it! I’m being kicked out of my apartment! What the hell am I going to do?” Kate rants her way inside, throwing her bag on the couch and coming over to give Evie a big hug. She nods a greeting at Tate, then me. Her head swings back to Evie.
“I’m homeless!” Kate throws her head in her hands and Evie pats her on the back.
“Okay drama mama, start at the beginning. What happened and why are you being kicked out of your apartment?”
“It all started with pussy.”
Tate nearly drops the glass of water he’s holding. I slam the salad bowl on the counter. Kate’s head lifts and her shoulders droop.
“What?” Evie barks.
“Pussy. Always the damn pussy. Making my life complicated.” Kate muses to herself, eyes raised to the ceiling.
“Kate Guinevere Bryant! What the hell are you talking about?” Evie grips Kate’s shoulders and gives a slight shake earning her full eye contact. “Get to the point. You are giving the boys a heart attack with all this pussy talk.” It’s true, well, she has our complete attention to say the least.
“Wait. Your middle name is Guinevere. How did I not know this?” I interrupt.
“My mom had a thing for King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table—the Monty Python version. Weird I know.” Kate waves a hand, tossing her blonde locks over one tan shoulder.
“That explains a lot.” I mutter.
“Okay, so back to the pussy problem.” She blows out an exaggerated breath. “Well, the entire ordeal started when this damn cat decided to go and have her babies in the vent shaft between the third and fourth floors of my building.”
A collective “ahh” sounds as the lightbulb goes off. That pussy.
“Mrs. Vanlandingham called the super because she kept hearing them crying. Then, the fire department was called out to try and rescue them, but they were tucked into a hard to reach space. No one wanted to the kill the poor creatures because then the entire building would smell like dead animal, so they cut into the walls to make an entry point and that’s when they found it…”
Kate stops her story, closing her eyes to shake her head.
“What? What did they find? Please tell me the kittens were okay?” Of course Evie’s concerned about the damn strays.
“The kittens were fine. But they found asbestos in my building and it’s apparently toxic or something so they have to remove it from all five floors. Pain in my ass. I’d rather take my chances with poisoning.”
“I doubt that Kate, it’s really dangerous shit. Causes cancer and all that.” I add and she glances my direction, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, okay. I guess it’s best. But now I have to find a place to live for the next three weeks.”
“Why don’t you just stay here?” Evie suggests. Oh god, please no. Please say no.
“No, no. I couldn’t impose on you and Jon like that. Besides there’s not enough room for me and my clothes!” Kate laughs before adding in a much sadder tone, “I’ll just have to find an extended stay hotel or something. Yuck, I hate those places.”
“You are welcome to bum showers at the gym if you decide to live in your car.” Tate teases.
Kate laughs. “I’m good, but thanks.”
“Wait. Don’t your parents still live here in Arizona? Why don’t you just stay with them?” Both Evie and Kate pin me with a horrified glare. Kate’s posture stiffens and she places her hands on her hips with attitude.
“Just because they brought me into the world does not mean I can stand their company. You should know how that feels better than anyone, Jon.”
Her taut, harsh words ring true. Although I don’t remember her having such negative feelings for her parents. My own parents had gone through a nasty divorce, with me as the chess piece in the middle, during my junior year of high school. One of several reasons I couldn’t wait to join the Army and get out of town the minute we graduated. I still haven’t been by to visit my mom or my dad since moving back to Arizona.
Opening the oven door I pull the kabobs of chicken and steak out, setting them on the range.
“Evie, why don’t you come stay with me for a few weeks? Kate can stay here with plenty of room for her wardrobe and that way everyone’s problem is solved.” Tate, Mr. Helpful, chimes in. Slamming down the oven mitts I contemplate punching him in the face.
“I don’t know, are you sure? You really think Carly would be okay with that?” Evie bites her lip. Tate stands from his chair, pulling Evie close and wrapping her into a loose hug.
“Well, it’s my house, so technically I can do whatever I want, but believe me she won’t mind. She loves you and so do the boys. Hell, she’ll probably be happy because she can hit us up for free babysitting.” Tate smiles wide, his dimples on display. Fuck. This doesn’t look promising.
Evie worries her lip with her teeth. “I just don’t want to put you on the spot. You should think about it first and make sure you’re really okay with me staying with you.” Tate leans in but we can all hear his soft reply. I’d bet Kate is straining to overhear just as much as I am.
“It’s my dream to be able to hold you in my arms every night and wake up with you in my arms every morning. So, yeah. I think I’ll be okay with it. I don’t need time to consider.” Evie grins, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “I may never let you leave.” Tate growls.
“Alright, alright. Enough with the lovebird shit. Thank you Tate, that’d be fantastic. Thanks, Evie. As soon as my place is fixed I’ll be out of here.” Kate disrupts the couple but my mind is reeling. What. The. Fuck. This entire situation has disaster painted over it in giant graffiti lettering.
“Kate? Can I please speak with you in private?”
“Yeah, sure. Let me just text back my super first.” Focusing on her phone screen and nonchalant about the fact we’re soon to be roommates angers me further.
“No, Kate. Now. Let’s go take a walk. We’ll be right back guys. Evie and Tate, can you please cover the food so it doesn’t get cold?” I don’t wait for replies. Grabbing Kate’s arm, I drag her out of the apartment. I keep a brisk pace until we’re far enough from any watching eyes or listening ears. I turn to Kate, downright exasperated.
“Don’t you think it’s going to be a little weird living together after we—you know—” Spit out the words, Beltran.
“What? Because we fucked?” Damn it if my dick doesn’t twitch just at the mention of that dirty word coming from her sassy mouth.
“Yes!” I growl in frustration.
“Why would that make it weird, Jon?” She tilts her face with a most earnest expression. Is she really so clueless? Had our one night stand meant nothing for her? Was I the only one of us hung up on that night? I shake my thoughts away.
“Because… being in such close quarters might make it difficult. Feelings could resurface and I just don’t want there to be any confusion about our relationship.” I try to explain but she laughs in my face.
“Oh my god! What? Just because we fucked one time you think I want to fuck you again? Like I wouldn’t be able to control myself just by being around you? Ha! You think awfully highly of yourself big guy.” Her passing attitude about my concerns pisses me off and anger boils to the surface. “Look, I just need a place to stay and this is my best option. Nothing personal but I could care less about who I stay with as long as it’s not my parents.”
“You are impossible, you know that.” I bite out.
“Whatever, can we go back inside now? I’m starving.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” We stomp our way back inside the apartment. I’m pissed. How’s this happening to me? I’m glad Kate’s confident in her ability to keep things casual between us but I’m not so sure I can promise the same. I’m bound to regret this new living arrangement but there’s nothing I can do now without coming off as a total ass.
We walk in the dining area to find all the food on the table. Evie flashes a tentative smile, her hand wrapped tightly around Tate’s larger one. “Everything okay with you two?”
“Fine!” Kate and I shout.
“Just overflowing with joy for this ray of sunshine that I get to see every damn day for the next three weeks.” I amend with a fake ass smile. The words drip with sarcasm. Evie and Tate share a look that I deduct as concern. They’re probably right to be.
“FOR THE LOVE OF ALL things holy, put some damn clothes on!”
Closing my eyes, I focus on my breath. Ignoring the barking request from my new roomie, I move from child’s pose to downward facing dog.
“Oh, fuck me.”
“Been there, done that.” I murmur under my breath. I start every morning on my mat. I always practice yoga in skimpy underwear. It’s what I sleep in and I’m used to living alone. Had I moved in with anyone else I’d be more considerate, either wearing more clothes or moving my daily yoga routine into my temporary bedroom. I know it bothers Jon, so here I am. Probably not the best idea to poke the bear but I can’t resist.
“Whatever. I’m taking a shower.” Jon stomps down the hall, shirtless and sweaty, returned from his morning run. We’re establishing some semblance of a routine since moving my stuff to Evie’s bedroom three days ago. He works out in the mornings and I practice yoga. He usually catches the tail end of my sacred mat time and gives me shit about what I’m wearing. Or more accurately, not wearing.
I roll the sponge foam mat and carry it back to my room. Trying to concentrate on yoga with a naked Jon just one door over is impossible. Even with my years of training there’s no way I can steer my lewd thoughts from the racy images. Man, muscle, steam, water. I’ve never wanted to be a soap bubble so badly.
Dressing for work, I pull my hair into a twist at the base of my neck and apply makeup with care. I match my lip color to the same bright fuchsia that swirls through my bohemian skirt. I grab a cardigan to throw inside my large hand bag. Doesn’t matter that the high will be well over one hundred degrees today, my office will still be cold as Elsa’s castle from Frozen.
The front door opens and shuts with a bang. Evie comes over every morning to work with Jon on their case load. She primarily works the behind the scenes, a point of contact for clients as well as controlling the administration for the company. Their living room is now converted to an office workspace, couch pushed to one corner, allowing for two giant filing cabinets and a desk. They’re still running the business from this apartment, but I have to wonder how long that’ll last.
I grab my bag and open the bedroom door. A smile tugs at my lips as I watch my best friend, vigorously poking away at the keyboard between deep frustrated huffs.
“Morning, Evie!” I call out, walking the short hallway.
“Hey, Kate. How’s it going?” She glances over her shoulder to grin.
“Oh, just dandy. How are things with the boyfriend now that you are living together in sin?” A blush travels up her neck and stains her cheeks. I giggle.
“Never mind, I don’t need details now. From your face I can guess things are going well.” She nods shyly before turning her attention back to the screen.
“Well, I’ve gotta run. Maybe we can meet for breakfast on Sunday? I know I’ve seen you every day, but I feel like we haven’t had our girl time.” I fill a travel mug with coffee, sugar and creamer in the adjacent kitchen.
Evie spins her chair away from the screen and nods.
“I know what you mean. Let’s do breakfast. I want to hear all about how things are going living here with Jon.” She raises one brow and I act as though she hasn’t.
“Make sure she fills you in on the no pants party she’s been throwing every damn morning.” Jon grumbles, stomping from the hallway and plopping down in the chair next to Evie. Her eyes widen as she glances back toward me. I roll mine.
“Yes, and I’ll be sure to mention my roommate’s a real prude. Later gators!”
Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I prance out the front door before they can ask any more questions. The truth is I hate living with Jon. Not because I don’t like him, but because he’s a constant reminder of everything I can’t have.
I hop inside my sporty Acura and sing along at the top of my lungs for the short commute. I work downtown for a well-known photography and videography studio. I love my job because every day is different, depending on the current projects and clients. It’s never boring and I like that a good chunk of my day involves talking with people. It also keeps my creative juices flowing being surrounded by artists.
Pulling around the older restored office front to the near empty gravel lot in the back I find my usual space. I grab my bag and use my keys to enter the employee entrance.
“Hello!” I call into the quiet space. Two of the owners, Marc and Steph are in here somewhere because I saw their cars parked outside. Jason, the third owner, will likely roll in sometime after lunch.
I rest my bag inside my office and pull out my laptop, plugging it into the charging station on the desk. My office is not a large space, and it’s in the back of the building between one of the two portrait studios and a supply closet. It’s modern and clean, with whitewashed exposed brick walls and large photography prints. A white office desk with bright orange chair in the center of the room makes up my workspace. A small faux white leather sofa sits across for the times when I meet with clients. Three token square skylights fill the room with natural light.
Wandering down the hallway to the reception desk I ponder where everyone is. Teagan, our receptionist won’t be in for another hour, so I click on the phones and slide my finger across a tablet, pausing to select a music mix to stream throughout the office.
A movement near the front door catches my attention. Marc and Steph take one last pull from their cigarettes before squashing them into the dirt and ceremoniously picking up the butts to throw in the can just outside the doorway.
Marc is wearing jean skimmers and a buttoned down short sleeve shirt, a plaid design in hues of blue. His combed, styled brown hair is perfectly in place and matches the length of his trim beard. His outfit screams summers in the Hamptons but his tattooed neck and gages provide a glimpse of the alternative, artistic genius that lives inside. He’s attractive and looks younger than his age of forty-two. In fact, I’m probably the only one in the office that knows his actual age because I hold the company HR documents. I also know that Marc’s given name is actually spelled with a k instead of c, but in his younger years he thought Marc spelled with a c had more of an edge so he changed it.
Steph is the youngest of our studio’s owners; at only thirty she runs the videography side of the business. Her bobbed jet black hair, with thick blunt bangs border her sharp features. Today a pair of thick, black framed glasses draw attention to her ice blue eyes. Steph is short and a little heavy set and wears her typical black on black ensemble. I’m forever attempting to get the woman to add some color into her wardrobe but she insists the only color she will wear goes on her lips. Today it’s in the form of a deep red.
Marc pulls open the door and steps inside behind Steph.
“Speak of the devil,” Steph winks, a smile tugs at her painted lips. “We were just talking about you.”
“Yeah? Were you recounting how fabulous I am and then decided to give me a ten percent raise as an early birthday gift?” Marc snorts a laugh at my reply.
“Oh you’re fabulous, girl. We need our best employee to work her charm on a prospective client.” He bats his thick lashes my way and steeples his fingers over his chest.
I’m not falling for it though, last time they asked for my help I was stuck entertaining a seventy year old man for three days. He was quite the handsy fucker. I raise my eyebrows in suspicion.
“Who’s the client, Marc?” Steph cackles.
“I told you she wouldn’t forgive you for sticking her with Angus.”
“Oh, baby girl, I’m sorry. I’ll never do that to you again. Scouts honor.” He moves to salute, but uses his entire hand.
“You were never a Boy Scout, Marc.” I deadpan.
“Okay, okay. Here’s the skinny. We have a meeting set up this afternoon with Three Ugly Guys for the possibility of shooting their next cover and music video. I need you Kate. This client would be a huge break for us.” He’s practically begging.
“Just say you’ll bring the flirt. Tell the man you’ll bring the flirt.” Steph rolls her eyes and a smile pulls at my lips.
“Fine. I’ll bring my A game.” I shake my head as a laugh escapes my mouth. Marc raises his hands in the air, offering a dramatic “Hallelujah!” to the ceiling above.
“Why does that band sound familiar?”
Marc and Steph gasp, wide-eyes studying my face.
“Girl, we really need to expand your music tastes. They’re only the biggest band to come out of the Valley since Jimmy Eat World. The album they are about to drop is going to blow shit up! Not literal shit, you get what I’m saying right?” Marc’s hands fail wildly as he talks. He’s notably excited about this opportunity.
“That’s awesome. I’ll do everything I can to secure the deal. But honestly, you guys are so frickin’ talented, they would be fools to not go with us.” I speak in earnest. I’m grateful to work with these artists. Steph nods before adding her two cents.
“The cool thing is they want to go with someone local, that’s why we’re even being considered. Their agent already screened us as a top choice so as long as they like what they see today, the job is ours. It would mean national exposure.”
“What time will they be in?”
“We are taking them to lunch at one and will finish up with a meeting here in the conference room. Make sure Teagan has everything cleaned up in there and that the beverage fridge is fully stocked. Oh, and have her clear our schedule for the day, I think we only had a few studio shoots on the books. Steph and I are going to pick up the new promotional materials we had printed last week. We’ll have a quick strategizing meeting whenever Jason rolls in.”
Marc looks down at his watch and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. So I will be on Jason duty. Getting him in here before lunch is always a chore. It starts with finding out where he partied last night and with whom. I’m pretty good at tracking him, but definitely not one of the most enthralling aspects to my career.
“So do you want me to start with researching the band or with tracking down Jason?”
“Jason.”
“Band.” Marc disagrees with Steph.
“I’ll do both. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
“That’s why you’re the best!” Marc pops into his office and Steph mouths, “Jason,” once more before he returns, keys in hand. They both turn and exit the door, leaving me alone. I blow out a sigh. Time for the next episode of Where in the World is Jason Moreno.
The stars align in my favor. Tracking Jason down proves easier than past productions. One call to his housekeeper results in the information he’s passed out in his own bed, and thankfully alone. I have no shame though. I’ve pulled him from the beds of men, women, and sometimes both for the sake of an important meeting and I’ll do it again.
His estate is a modern custom build in the Arcadia district. Here it doesn’t matter if the home is a piece of shit, the property values are all about location. I pull into the circular drive and use my key to open the front door.
“Hi Maria!” I wave and greet Jason’s housekeeper. “He still asleep?”
“Yes, I tried to wake him, but you know how that goes.” She shrugs and I nod.
“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. I better go get him up.”
I march down the porcelain tile hallway with purpose, swinging open the double doors to the master suite. The room is cool and pitch black inside, the darkening shades are rolled down to conceal even an inch of daylight. I fumble around in the darkness, careful not to trip as I make my way to the bedside table. Groping around with my fingers until I recover the magical remote, I press buttons and the shades began to rise, illuminating the large bedroom. Jason remains unconscious, his mouth ajar, drool spilling out onto the pillow.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” I sing out as loud as I can. Jason moans and rolls to his back. The sheet that was covering him opens to reveal his fully naked and semi-erect form. Sadly this does nothing for me. Jason is beautiful. With mixed heritage he’s blessed in the genetics department, in all regards. But Jason’s long been a friend and I’ll never view him as more than that. Besides, he’s a bit of a manwhore for my taste.
“Jase! Come on, man, put some damn pants on. We’ve got places to go, people to see!”
I scrounge around in the dresser and select an outfit. I come across several bottles of prescription drugs. Crap. So we’re back to this again. Jason’s been in and out of rehab several times in the period I’ve worked for him. He’s a tortured artist. Truly, in every sense of the term. His suffering is what makes his photography so beautiful. Irony at its fullest.
The emotion this man captures with a lens has brought me to tears on several occasions. I’m honored to work in his presence. I only wish said presence was clothed at the moment.
I walk back to the bed and throw the clean clothes on the bedside table.
“Last chance, big guy. Wake up, please!” I grab his arm and shake back and forth. Nothing but another slight groan. Why can’t things ever be easy? I waltz to the connecting master bathroom. Finding a glass bouquet of fake flowers on the counter, I dump the contents and fill it with water from the faucet before I traipse back to the bed.
There’s no quicker way. I inwardly cringe before I dump the contents directly over Jason’s face and jump back.
“What the fuck?” Jason jerks off the bed, sputtering and wiping at his face until his gaze meets my own. “Fuck. Kate, what the hell?”
I grab the clothes from the table and push them into Jason’s chest before I turn to give him privacy.
“I tried waking you up, honest to goodness, but you were out cold. We have a big client meeting in less than an hour.” Releasing a frustrated breath, I have to ask, “Did you take something last night?”
He dresses quietly, but ignores my question. I only hope we’ll get back in time for me to research the band.
“Ah, damn.” I turn to find Jason dressed but looking hung over as hell, sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling head in hands.
“We need to get going, Jason. How about I have Maria make you something to eat and you go freshen up?”
“Yeah. Yeah, go do that. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
I stroll back out to the kitchen and chat with Maria while she preps a breakfast burrito and cup of coffee to go. Jason wanders into the kitchen twenty minutes later looking alive and much more responsive. A pair of dark shades over his eyes is the only proof of his hangover.
I nervously glance at my phone to check the time. If we leave now we’ll be lucky to be there before the band shows up. We aren’t late, but I won’t have any time to prep myself. I slide my finger over iTunes and download their EP so we can at least listen to it on the ride over.
“Thank you, Maria,” Jason takes the offered food and drink from her hands and trudges behind me on the way outside to the car.
“Best chauffeur ever.” Jason flashes his charming smile before shoveling the burrito inside his wide mouth. I start the car.
“Ha! I’m glad you approve. Have you heard of this band we are meeting with today?” I press play and the music streams through my car. A loud blend of rocking guitars fills the song before a strong male voice joins in with harsh lyrics.
“Wait! This is the band we are meeting with? Holy fuck! How did we get a meeting with 3UG?” Jason winces as the drums crash. He reaches over the middle console to adjust the volume.
“Am I the only person who doesn’t know this band?”
“Well, you are either stuck in the ’90s or listening to top forty, so I’m not surprised. But these guys are great. I can’t believe we’re up for their account.”
As we come to a stop light I grab my phone in an attempt to Google the band.
“Ah, ah, ah! No texting and driving, sister. Hand over the phone.” Jason plucks it from my grip and I narrow my eyes, both astonished and irritated at his audacity.
“You’re really going to give me shit right now? Tell me, Mr. Jason Moreno, law abiding citizen, what pills did you take last night and did you by chance mix them with alcohol?”
He smirks and shakes his head.
“I don’t know what you are referring to, Kate. I have prescriptions for any and all medications in my possession.” I roll my eyes. Yeah, Mr. Innocent here.
“Whatever. Let’s just get to this meeting and score these ugly guys as clients.” Jason chuckles and focuses on finishing his coffee as I weave my way through traffic.
“No shit.” I swear under my breath and glance about, drinking in the delicious tattooed rockers that fill our humble conference room. There are four of them and not one is ugly. “You’re like the bad boy, wet dream version of Backstreet Boys!”
One band member sitting near the back corner laughs loudly and winks at me before coughing into his arm. I catch a flash of silver from his pierced tongue before he covers his mouth. The three other guys sit glaring, a look of pure disgust on their gorgeous faces.
“We. Are. Not. A. Boy. Band,” one of them enunciates. He holds my eyes with his intense glower. The room remains silent. Oh, shit. I guess I shouldn’t have said that out loud. He stands, stretches his tall, slender build to his full height and swaggers toward me, slow and with purpose. I gulp and lick my lips.
Black skin-tight jeans ride low on his hips and are tucked into his combat boots. A fitted vintage tee gives way to arms covered in tattoos all the way to his fingers. His dirty blond hair is long, the curls hanging about halfway down his neck. His deep green eyes imprison mine from where he stands, resting his hands in his back pockets.
“Who the hell are you?” His eyes travel over my body in a lazy manner. My body warms with pleasure at his perusal despite the harsh tone of his words.
“Kate. Kate Bryant. Nice to meet you…” His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he glances around, making brief eye contact with those in the room before meeting my stare.
“Trent. Trent Donavan. Nice to meet you, Kate.” He offers his hand and I place my own firmly inside. I meet his stare with a confidence I can only conjure. His touch sends a shiver down my spine and I resist the urge to display a reaction. After putting my foot in my mouth I need to salvage this.
“I apologize. I didn’t mean any insult to you or the band. I was just taken aback by the collective sexiness between the four of you. You must really drive your fans wild on stage. I mean, I can only imagine.” I laugh, nervous but aiming to ease the tension that fills the room.
