Leather, Lace and Rock-N-Roll Page 2

  Cameron stopped and grasped Rachel’s shoulder for support while she bent to adjust the strap on her sandal. “Two more minutes. Then we’ll be tucked in the skybox, safely behind tinted glass, enjoying the show.”

  Rachel glanced toward the stage and wondered if Cameron would flip out if she suggested they call it a night and go home. “Are you sure you feel okay?”

  Cameron looped an arm through Rachel’s and closed the distance to the exit. “Of course. Do you?”

  Rachel tossed Cameron’s question through her brain. Physically she was fine. Her heart had resumed its regular cadence and her hands had finally stopped shaking. Mentally, though, the jury was still out.

  “I’m fine,” she said finally.

  Cameron giggled and bumped her with one hip. “Hawke’s fine, huh?”

  Rachel’s body warmed. Fine? No, more like smoking hot. Luscious. Lollipop lickable.

  Cameron cleared her throat.

  Rachel shook herself free from thoughts of wild, sweaty sex and wrinkled sheets. “He’s okay,” she answered. “Just not my type.”

  “Yeah, right.” Cameron paused just outside the door to the skybox and glanced at the electric eye. “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “Macho man has my pass.”

  Rachel shook her head. The only way inside was to scan the pass. “Wonderful. And he has no idea who we are.”

  Cameron braced one hip against the door and checked the gold watch on her wrist.

  Rachel fought herself from shaking Cameron like a rag doll. “So what now, Cameron?”

  “We wait.”

  “For what?”

  “Rachel, we just exposed ourselves to Jaydon Hawke’s bodyguard.”

  Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Believe me,” Cameron continued, “the watchdog knows exactly who and where we are. We would’ve never been passed through the gate if he didn’t.”

  Rachel didn’t even want to know the specifics of Cameron’s logic and she was past the point of argument. “Let’s just leave.”

  “What? No!” Cameron pushed herself off the door and took Rachel’s hands. “Look, the whole purpose of this evening was to break you out of your shell. Have you changed your mind?”

  Rachel took one look at Cameron’s sparkling blue eyes and knew she couldn’t lie. “No.”

  “Admit it, you’ve had fun.”

  Rachel gave Cameron’s hands a squeeze and then dropped them. “Okay, it has been fun.”

  “Then relax, we’ll get in there.”

  “Yes, but Cameron, my reputation—”

  “Will not suffer from being here. You work with people of Hawke’s caliber all the time.”

  “True, except I don’t flash them.”

  Cameron giggled and rolled her eyes. “No one except me and the guard know about that.”

  Rachel couldn’t stop the smile that split her lips. “Can you believe it?”

  Cameron nodded. “I knew you had it in you.” She gestured down the hall. “Here comes the cavalry.”

  “The big guy?”

  Cameron grinned. “No, an usher. And this time, hold on to the pass.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Hawke waved to the sold-out auditorium one last time before he stepped off stage and into the corridor. Only this time, a pack of hungry women swarmed him like angry bees, stingers poised and ready to attack. Hawke noticed a fiery redhead in the front wearing a short leather skirt, her exposed cleavage winking an invitation. He grinned. Some things made this chaos all worthwhile.

  “You want her?”

  Hawke glanced at his security manager. He wouldn’t even have to ask twice. And he knew all too well she wouldn’t hesitate to oblige. “Not tonight, Max.”

  Hawke waited for Max to ask why. Instead, Max’s expression remained blank and he wedged himself between Hawke and the buzzing mob.

  Hawke looked back toward the entrance. “So, where are the girls?”

  Max pushed a wayward, slender, almost-nude body back behind him. “Not enough attention for one night?”

  Hawke snickered as he and Max made their way down the hall toward Hawke’s dressing room. “You know who I mean.”

  “Blonde and busty?”

  “Yeah, her and the one with killer green eyes.”

  Max stopped, tossed a look over his shoulder and then raised an eyebrow. “You noticed her eyes? Over her rack?”

  Hawke allowed a slow grin to separate his lips. Obviously, they both agreed photographs didn’t do the two women justice. No, he didn’t notice her eyes first. In fact, with her positioned directly below his line of vision, not to mention kneeling between his legs, he really hadn’t cared if her eyes were even open. Her breasts were perfect, probably a C cup from his best guess, and free from the constraint of a bra. Firm and plump with peaked, rosy-pink nipples. Wild, carnal thoughts of ripping the zipper completely out of his pants and thrusting his aching, needy cock in the valley of her cleavage had almost pushed him over the edge.

  And then she lifted her gaze and he found himself drowned in a sea of sparkling green emeralds. Not that he wasn’t still distracted by her breasts, but those eyes trapped him. Full of curiosity with a touch of dare me thrown in.

  No way would he explain that to Max.

  “I noticed that too.”

  Max hesitated just a second and Hawke felt the silent consideration of his half-assed admission. “She declined your invitation.”

  A piercing stab of disbelief sliced Hawke’s thoughts. “Why?”

  Max shrugged. “Something about ruining her reputation. Guess she didn’t realize flashing me to get back here wouldn’t help much.”

  Hawke frowned. “Really? She flashed you?”

  Max nodded. “Both of them.”

  No freakin’ way. Hawke’s ego roared. He literally had to force her to unjam his zipper, and yet she willingly gave Max a peep show.

  “What do I have to do with ruining her reputation?”

  “My Intel reveals she’s one of those professional types. Doesn’t mix business with pleasure.”

  Hawke gave a confident grin. “Then why is she here?”

  Max made a dramatic show of looking around the area. “She’s not.”

  “This wasn’t part of the plan,” Hawke mumbled.

  “I did my part. You were the one supposed to keep her back here.”

  “Now what?”

  “I know where they’re headed.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, but you can’t go.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s a dive, a biker bar.”

  “So?”

  “Have you forgotten who you are?”

  Hawke mulled Max’s question, tempted to answer yes. The sexy sorceress appeared out of nowhere, aroused him enough to give him an irritating hard on, and then disappeared. He couldn’t let her get away.

  “I’m going with or without you.”

  Max stopped outside Hawke’s dressing room, folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side. “Think so?”

  Hawke smirked. No one got past Max and he knew it. But he also knew Max would do anything necessary to complete his mission, even when he wasn’t quite agreeable. So he tried again.

  “What about her friend?”

  Max didn’t move a muscle. “Her name is Cameron Tremaine. Give her to Huntington. Groupie Management is his specialty.”

  Hawke raised an eyebrow. “Sure?”

  “Positive. Call me when you’re ready.”

  Hawke stepped inside his dressing room to find Greg Huntington, his manager, waiting as usual.

  “Great show,” Greg said as Hawke sat down opposite him.

  “Wild.” Hawke rubbed his hands down his face. “I met the most interesting woman.”

  “How?”

  “I found her back stage.”

  “She got past Max?”

  “She and a friend enticed Max to let them through the gate.”
<
br />   “Did you invite her back after the show?”

  “I did, but she bailed.”

  “Get her name?”

  “Max did. Her name is Rachel Newberry. And get this, she’s an architect.”

  “Good thing you’re looking for one, huh?” Greg shook his head. “I just heard her name today.”

  Hawke felt the tension leave his shoulders. “So you know how to find her.”

  Greg raised both eyebrows. “She must really have something you want.”

  ”Greg,” he hedged, “it’s not what you think.”

  Greg tilted his head to one side, obviously expecting an explanation.

  Hawke released a heavy sigh. “I had a wardrobe malfunction.”

  “A wardrobe malfunction,” Greg repeated.

  Hawke threw his head back against the chair. “I got my zipper jammed.”

  “Classic!” Greg roared. “You oughta market that strategy. If a beautiful creature had been up close and personal with my one–eyed -”

  Hawke cut him off with a snicker. “Believe me, it was definitely stimulating.”

  “How did she get it loose?”

  “I don’t remember. I was too distracted.”

  “Did her friend help?”

  Hawke pierced Greg with a menacing stare. “No.”

  Greg shifted to retrieve a small card from his pocket. “The welcoming committee left you a message.” He handed the pale pink card to Hawke.

  Hawke grinned and opened the card.

  WELCOME TO DIABLO

  Greg snickered. “What flavor?”

  Hawke smudged the lipstick print signature with his index finger and placed it to his lips. “Wild Cherry.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “Talent,” Hawke bragged.

  Greg shrugged. “Anyway, Rachel’s the architect you want. She comes highly recommended.”

  “How’d you find someone so fast?”

  “Apparently, she’s in high demand. All my contacts agree she’s the best. We can’t go wrong. She’ll sign a confidentiality agreement and she’s your favorite flavor other than cherry.”

  “When can we meet her?”

  “I’ll call tomorrow morning.”

  “Sounds promising.”

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Hawke?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You’re at the top of your game.”

  “I’m not leaving the game, I’m just changing positions.”

  Greg shrugged again and stood to exchange a handshake with Hawke. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  “No, not tonight.”

  Greg frowned. “You’re not sticking around for the party?”

  Hawke shook his head in denial.

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Later, Greg.”

  He watched Greg leave the dressing room, already rewinding their conversation. Rachel Newberry. What was it about her that demanded his attention? Besides being insanely beautiful and crouched in one of his favorite positions, she hadn’t said much. His groin still throbbed at the memory. She didn’t throw herself at him, tear off his clothes or maul him. Instead she seemed shell-shocked. And very empathetic.

  She wasn’t impressed.

  His ego winced. Not possible. Somewhere in the depths of his mind reality cleared its throat. Who the hell cared if she were impressed? Although her interest would make things easier, it wasn’t necessary. Hawke ignored the mocking voice in his brain and squared his shoulders. Another chance meeting would change her mind.

  ***

  Rachel’s pulse pounded with uncertainty as she and Cameron stood outside the dark, seedy bar known to locals as Harley’s.

  “We’re really going inside?”

  “Relax,” Cameron soothed. “It looks worse than it is.”

  Cameron flung open the door and an eerie, cloudy fog welcomed them inside. The thick, choking cigarette smoke floating on the dim rays of light over the bar coated them with its musky smell. Loud, obnoxious rock music shook the walls, while men dressed in skin tight, worn leather kept time with women who were barely dressed. Rachel’s lips trembled with a threatened smile. Although the place had a sordid reputation, the atmosphere didn’t differ too much from Hawke’s concert.

  Rachel closed her eyes and swallowed, summoning every ounce of courage she possessed, and stepped inside. Once enveloped by the cover of semi-darkness, she relaxed somewhat when Cameron steered her to a corner table.

  “I’ll get us a drink,” Cameron said.

  “I’m going with you.”

  With a hand to her shoulder, Cameron forced Rachel into a chair. “Sit. You’ll attract more attention if you’re alone.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she grumbled as Cameron left the table.

  Twisting her fingers together, Rachel fidgeted and glanced around the room. Two burly guys near the dart board extended a nod. She gasped and lowered her eyes. After tonight, Cameron was on her own. No more adventure for me.

  Cameron returned and put four shot glasses on the table. “See anything you like?”

  “In this place?” she hissed, picking up one of the glasses and tossing it back.

  “Slow down!” Cameron shrieked, grabbing the glass from Rachel. “You don’t drink, remember?”

  Rachel frowned. “I drink.”

  “Wine doesn’t count,” Cameron clucked. “Especially when it’s only once a month.”

  “This isn’t going to work, Cameron.” Rachel picked up the next glass and swallowed the amber liquid.

  Cameron sighed. “Look, Rachel. Every woman feeds a bad-boy hunger and you will too. Just try. Believe me, these men are more than willing to satisfy your curiosity.”

  “I need another drink.”

  Cameron scooted a glass across the table with one french-manicured fingernail. “Drink mine.”

  By the bottom of her third shot, Rachel felt much more optimistic about Cameron’s plan. Except that even the false courage provided by alcohol couldn’t convince her to confront a man in this place. Realistically, some of them were attractive but none of them interested her enough to consider something more than conversation.

  Her mind drifted back over the events of the evening. Flashing the bodyguard had been truly out of character, but she felt oddly empowered by the experience. Who would have ever thought that two, naked, mountains of flesh could be so convincing? And being one-on-one with Jaydon Hawke’s most prized possession? Now, that was definitely an uplifting experience. She drained her glass again and slammed the door on her thoughts. Too much alcohol.

  “I don’t like anything here,” she said adamantly.

  “You’re being too picky,” Cameron scolded. “That guy over there in the corner by the pool table is checking you out. He’s not bad.”

  Rachel raised an eyebrow. “And just how much have you had to drink? I can smell him from over here.”

  “You drank mine,” Cameron said wryly.

  “No need to worry about that, Ladies,” a deep, rich male voice assured them.

  Rachel raised her gaze to see two men propped against the neighboring table. She squinted at one of them. Was that a skull and crossed bones? On his forehead?

  “Bones and I will be more than happy to buy you another.”

  ***

  Hawke’s nerves tightened as he glanced around the dark parking lot and then at Max. “My Intel is screwed. Nothing I dug up suggested she would even consider coming here.”

  Max gave him a smug grin as whistles and catcalls echoed in the stillness.

  “They’re here,” he said, scanning the perimeter as they opened the front door.

  Once inside, he pointed at a corner table.

  “There you go,” he mumbled. “Thelma and Louise on your left.”

  Hawke focused on the table, his eyes bulging in disbelief as the drama unfolded. His green-eyed witch had her tiny fingers wrapped around a glass, slinging the liquid all over the guy next to her. Her friend was
busy dodging advances from the other man.

  “Bad idea,” Max grumbled. “Let’s go.”

  “No,” Hawke demanded. “We need to put a stop to that.”

  Max grunted. “We? Hell no.”

  Hawke clenched his teeth, not quite sure why anger punched him in the gut. “Yes.”

  “I’ll come back once you’re locked in the car.”

  Hawke’s blood boiled and he balled his fists. “I said I’m staying.”

  Max had the balls to grin. “You gonna stomp your foot and cry too?”

  Even Hawke had to chuckle. “Look Max, we can’t leave them and you know it.”

  “All the blonde has to do is plant that spike of a heel in his groin. He’ll stop.”

  “What’s her name again?”

  “Can’t remember.”

  Hawke grinned. “Yes you can.”

  “Cameron.”

  Hawke looked closer. Sure enough, the two women were hell bent on fending off unwanted advances. He watched, actually impressed when Cameron ground her spiked heel into her victim’s foot.

  “Looks like she took your advice.”

  “Damn female. Stay here.” Max bulldozed his way through the crowd. Without a second thought, Hawke followed.

  And then the swarm of women on the dance floor noticed him. Several sexy winks were thrown his direction.

  Max frowned over his shoulder. “Thought I told you to stay put.”

  Hawke grinned. “You did.”

  Unfamiliar jealously flooded Hawke as he approached the table and watched as his sexy sorceress’ unwanted suitor stroked her breast. Besides the fact it was totally inappropriate, his own fingers itched to feel her dandelion-soft skin pressed to his hard, primed body. He bit back the smile that pulled at his lips.

  “Oh look, Rachel,” the blonde drawled, “more company.”

  “Hawke!” Rachel giggled mercilessly while she swatted traveling fingers from the swell of her cleavage. “You’re back! Hold my drink.”

  “She’s blasted,” Max pointed out.

  Liquid sloshed over the side of her glass as she thrust it at him. “This is my friend, Cameron, and this is Bones,” she continued.

  Hawke stepped closer and shoved the wandering hands from her body. “Keep your hands to yourself.”