Leather, Lace and Rock-N-Roll Page 3

  With a cocky smirk, Bones inched her skirt up her creamy thigh. Hesitating only a second, Hawke clenched his fist and connected it with the inky name tag on Bones’ forehead. The man swayed and rose to fight, moving only the musky air when he dangled from Max’s iron grip.

  “Get lost.” Max tossed him a few feet from the table. “And take Hop-a-Long with you.”

  After Max hoisted Cameron under one bulky arm, they watched as the two men scurried from the bar.

  “Put me down, Hulk,” Cameron shrieked.

  “Are you going to behave?”

  “Do you want me to?” she challenged.

  Max set her gently on the floor and stepped out of her reach.

  Cameron reached to replace her sandal strap around her ankle. “We had it under control.”

  Max nodded. “Sure you did.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Hawke asked, halfway between amused and angry.

  Cameron crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m satisfying my bad-boy hunger.” Rachel reached for her empty glass. “I need more beer.”

  Hawke stared wordlessly, processing her admission. Bad boy hunger? This was definitely one fucked-up mission.

  Cameron snatched the glass. “No more beer. You’ve had enough.”

  Rachel moaned. “Now I’ll never know.”

  “You’ll know more than you think in the morning,” Cameron muttered as she gestured for Rachel to get out of her chair.

  “Need some help?” Max asked.

  Cameron gave him a cursory glance. “No thanks, Dudley Do-Right, we can make it.”

  Hawke studied Rachel while she stood and tossed her hair over her shoulder. She shifted her skirt back in place and buttoned the top button of her blouse. Then she smiled like the whole evening never happened. Even drunk, she was so controlled. Loose-lipped, but controlled.

  “Hawke!” a female voice screamed over the music. “It’s really Hawke!”

  “Hawke,” Max growled, “You’re an idiot.”

  Cameron shoved Rachel through the bar and out the door as a squealing female riot erupted.

  “Good grief,” she groused as she unlocked the passenger door of her car and motioned Rachel inside. “They act like they’ve never seen anything like him.”

  “They haven’t seen him like I have,” Rachel murmured as she threw her head against the cool leather headrest.

  Cameron pushed Rachel to the middle of the seat. “Oh yeah?”

  Rachel gasped and then hiccupped. “I’ve had way too much to drink.”

  Cameron pulled the seatbelt across Rachel’s body and locked it securely in place. “I knew something else happened while I was out. Do you want to confess now or in the morning?”

  Rachel closed her eyes and moaned. Cameron giggled evilly and shut the door.

  After climbing in on the driver’s side, Cameron looked over at Rachel. “You haven’t had enough to drink to pass out.”

  Rachel opened one eye. “I might have.”

  “No, you haven’t.” Cameron started the car and backed out of the parking space.

  “I told you what happened anyway. Sorry, no more to tell.”

  “Okay, but something doesn’t add up. He’s not your type, yet you obviously saw something that impressed you.”

  Rachel threw both hands in the air. “Fine, I’ll admit it! From my position earlier tonight, I was extremely impressed. I’ve never been so tempted in my life. Are you happy?”

  Cameron tilted her head to one side. “Well, not really.”

  “Why?” Rachel shrieked.

  Cameron bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Because I’m wondering why you didn’t take advantage of that position.”

  “Oh for Pete’s sake, Cameron, that’s enough! My head is about to explode and I might throw up.”

  Suddenly not humored, Cameron pressed the accelerator to the floor. “I love you like a sister, Rachel, but not in my car.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Rachel rubbed her aching temples and took another swig of Gingerale. What had she been thinking? Obviously, her bad boy hunger had been satisfied because hunger was not what she felt this morning. Not even a twinge. Cameron was just going to have to accept the fact that she was beyond help. No more adventures, no more flashing, and no more biker bars. Ever.

  Thank God she didn’t have any appointments scheduled today. She jumped when the shrill shriek of the telephone on her desk stabbed her eardrums.

  “Rachel Newberry,” she answered, attempting to disguise her discomfort.

  “Ms. Newberry, my name is Greg Huntington. I received your name from a friend of mine who highly recommends your services.”

  Rachel shifted to a sitting position and chased a rolling pencil around the desk. “How can I help you, Mr. Huntington?”

  “One of my clients would like to build a house in the area. We would like to schedule a meeting.”

  She slapped the pencil with her open palm and wiggled it between her fingers. “I’d love to help you, however, my client list is full at the moment.”

  And I’m too hung over to focus on my calendar.

  She heard a throaty chuckle across the line. “You might change your mind after meeting him.”

  Him? Her? Who cares?

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Huntington, I’m just so busy right now. I could give you the name of—”

  ”My client is Jaydon Hawke.”

  A tense silence vibrated between them. Her head pounded double time. Any minute now one of two things were going to happen: Her head would explode and scatter what was left of her brain all over the desk, or the alarm would buzz and she’d wake up from this horrible nightmare.

  “Ms. Newberry?”

  She cleared her throat. “Does Mr. Hawke know who I am?”

  Another cocky snicker. “Of course.”

  Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. So much for anonymous. “And he still asked you to call me?”

  “He insisted. Why?”

  Rachel hesitated. How much did this man actually know about her encounter with Hawke? “Mr. Hawke and I have met.”

  “Yes, I know.” A note of arrogance slipped through his response. “I don’t understand your hesitancy.”

  Rachel sighed. Either he didn’t know the whole story or he did and chalked it up to rock star drama. Still, she tread carefully. “We met last night under some very ... unusual circumstances. Trust me, after last night’s fiasco, you should be surprised he wants to hire me.”

  A loud thunk pierced her left eardrum. O..kay… Apparently there were several things he didn’t know. She squinted one eye and held the phone at arm’s length until he spoke.

  “Ms. Newberry, we would really appreciate an appointment.”

  Another wave of nausea crested in her esophagus. She swallowed hard, desperate to get him off the phone. “If you’re certain.”

  “I am.”

  “Fine. I’ll meet him after hours.” Rachel scribbled Greg’s name on her calendar. “Six o’clock this evening.”

  “We’ll take it. Hawke and his security manager will be there.”

  Rachel returned the receiver to the cradle and threw her head back against her chair, only to regret the rapid movement. She squeezed her eyes closed and begged her stomach to behave. Why on Earth had she been so agreeable to meet Hawke? And now what? By now the bouncer had filled him in on all the excitement. Rachel groaned. How was she supposed to know Hawke planned to hire her? She pressed her palms to her forehead and took a deep breath.

  Wait a minute.

  Cameron was probably right, the beefy bodyguard was much more than muscle. Now she was certain they’d checked her out. And the manager, what’s-his-name- she leaned forward and checked her calendar – Greg Huntington. He mentioned a referral from another client. So, had Hawke planned to hire her before the concert?

  She reached for the aspirin near the computer. Whatever his reasoning, she was stuck now. Besides, even if she did call and
cancel, Cameron would reschedule. In fact, Cameron would welcome the opportunity to flex her muscle at both Hawke and his bodyguard. Rachel released a heavy sigh. Hawke just didn’t realize how lucky he was that he’d caught her at a weak moment.

  ***

  Lt. Jaydon Hawke twirled the business card through his fingers as Cpt. Max Sterling drove him to meet the mysterious Rachel Newberry. After the unexpected events of the last twenty four hours, he wasn’t sure quite what to expect. The sexy woman he had encountered last night was a total surprise. Where was the meek and plain architect that had been secretly followed and photographed? He hadn’t been as prepared as he’d thought.

  Part of him wanted to believe she arranged the after-hours meeting for personal reasons. After all, they hadn’t had an opportunity to talk much at the show. Or at Harley’s. But then, Greg mentioned her hesitance at meeting at all. Almost as if she had no intention of ever seeing him again. Hawke scrubbed a hand over his jaw, aggravated by the question marks assaulting his brain.

  “Take it easy, Hawke. Stick to the plan. You’re just supposed to seduce her, like always.”

  Max’s booming command caused Hawke to shove his thoughts of Rachel to the side and at least attempt to appear smooth. “What makes you think I’m planning anything more?” Hawke shrugged.

  “She’s a suspect and I have to do whatever it takes to get close to her.”

  “Something else is going on in that thick skull of yours.”

  “Just strategy.”

  “If you say so.”

  “She’s not what I expected.”

  “They never are.”

  “No, really. According to her profile, she hardly ever leaves the office, she has one close friend, and she rarely socializes.”

  “So?”

  “So why the hell was she at the concert?”

  “We lured her there, remember?”

  Hawke weighed that fact. True, they had approached her client with concert tickets, hoping he would pass them to her. “We provided the bait, but why did she accept?”

  “I think the blonde hellcat had something to do with that.”

  Hawke snickered. “That is highly possible.”

  “You know as well as I do criminals don’t advertise.”

  “She doesn’t fit the prototype.”

  “You’ve spent too many hours behind a computer, Hawke. I think there’s more to it.”

  Hawke folded his arms across his chest. “Oh yeah? Then, please, fill me in.”

  “Seems to me you’re caught up in your cover. She’s a young, beautiful piece of tail who didn’t kiss your ass. You want to find out why and change her mind.”

  “Gee-zus, Max, she’s a mark!”

  Max raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer.

  Hawke opened his mouth to argue then decided against it. Max knew the score. Screw the assignment. Rachel’s rejection stung. Not because she wasn’t interested – she was interested, her body had betrayed her in that regard – but because she wouldn’t give him a chance.

  Max pulled into the nearest parking space. Hawke crammed on a baseball cap and dark sunglasses and waited for Max to open his door. After Max circled the vehicle twice in his routine check for anything unusual, they sauntered through the front door of the office building.

  Max nodded at the security officer seated behind a row of monitors and then steered him onto the waiting elevator. Within the next 30 seconds, the heavy metal elevator door opened, depositing them just outside a closed office door. Hawke glanced at the nameplate. Newberry & Tremaine.

  Max gave him a sideways glance. “You ready for this?”

  Hawke grinned. Nothing, not even a cold metal zipper could keep him out. “Hell yeah.”

  Max grasped the doorknob, strolled into the office, and then nodded for Hawke to enter.

  Two steps inside, Hawke stopped short when he caught sight of an amazing heart-shaped ass covered in what appeared to be red silk waving hello from the reception desk. Hawke raised his glasses and looked at Max. Sorry sucker was zeroed in on the same thing.

  Hawke replaced his glasses and cleared his throat. Max grinned.

  “Hold your horses.” Muffled by the position, the voice at the other end released a heavy dose of sass into the room. “I dropped my earring and it rolled down here somewhere. Oh, here it is!”

  As soon as the figure stood and faced them, Hawke knew this would be an interesting meeting.

  The tiny blonde with the gorgeous rack pocketed a gold hoop earring and gave her skirt a tug. “May I—” Her voice suddenly broke in mid-sentence. “Holy cow.”

  Hawke flipped through his mental rolodex. Karen? Kelley?

  “Cameron Tremaine.” She stuck out her hand and grinned. “And you are Jaydon Hawke.”

  “Hawke.” He shifted and accepted her outstretched hand, surprised she didn’t seem bothered that both he and Max could probably describe her lingerie in great detail.

  “Okay, then, Hawke.” The devil danced in her eyes as she flicked a gaze toward the back corner office. “Rachel’s on the phone. She’ll be right with you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Cameron’s ever-present grin remained glued on her face as she turned to Max. “And since you’ve already manhandled me, I guess I should get your name.”

  “Max.”

  “Max …” she hesitated, obviously expecting him to give his last name.

  “Just Max.”

  “Oh come on, big guy,” she taunted. “Even prisoners give their name, rank and serial number.”

  Hawke wasn’t sure if it was the thought of her panties or not, but his blood pressure rose a few degrees. Nobody, women included, challenged Max. His size alone discouraged it. Yet this one, petite, blue-eyed bombshell didn’t appear to give a damn.

  “Behave, Cameron.”

  Another wave of heat rippled his skin as he turned to see who dared tame the sassy lioness. Relief unknotted his stomach muscles when he saw Rachel Newberry, the same dragon slayer who had conquered the fiery jaws of his metal zipper.

  “Mr. Hawke, we meet again.”

  As he grasped her outstretched hand, Hawke took a second to consider his strategy while his shaded eyes bounced between the two women. Should he leave Max with Cameron? His first thought was to reschedule, exit stage left, and run. Except that Cameron stood between him and the door and there was just something about her that, well, scared him. Instead, he waited for Rachel to say something. But she didn’t.

  So he played it smooth and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Ms. Newberry.”

  She squeezed then extracted her hand. “Come on into my office and we’ll review your plans.”

  Hawke glanced at Max then cleared his throat. “You gonna be okay out here?”

  Max folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Hawke.”

  Convinced Max had everything under control, Hawke turned and followed Rachel down the hall, tantalized by the sway of her curvy hips.

  A sense of dread pooled in Max’s stomach as he watched Hawke disappear into the back office. He shifted his eyes to the blonde poltergeist hovering next to him.

  “So,” she said in the baited silence, “we meet again also.”

  He moved his head about two millimeters to the left, not offering friendly conversation.

  “You would have to be the strong silent type,” she mumbled as she sat on the sofa. She patted the cushion beside her. “You might as well make yourself comfortable. They’ll be awhile.”

  Max looked from the sofa, to the front door, and back at her.

  She rolled her baby blues. “I won’t bite.”

  He bit back a threatened grin. Probably not. But who said it was her he was worried about? Fully dressed in a short business skirt that he knew from experience hid some very biteable thighs, she still excited him. The shoes she wore today once again added height and screamed take me. He swallowed, lost in thought. If she were standing there naked in the high heels, a strand of pearls ha
nging around her slender neck, he just might possibly latch his mouth onto her and brand her.

  He smiled a slow, easy grin. “I might.”

  She gave him a full pouty smile. One he wanted to kiss right off her face. “You wish.”

  She didn’t know how true her statement really was but Max wasn’t ready to share that fact.

  “So, you’re the hired muscle.” She crossed her tiny feet with blood-red polished toenails and propped one elbow against the back of the couch.

  Max turned his attention to the third button of her blouse, the one no longer fastened. The same one that revealed a flash of red lace. Hell’s bells. What was with this woman and her lingerie? Then again, the lingerie was just a front. His first-hand knowledge of what rested beneath the lacey disguise shaped his thinking at this very point in time.

  When her fingers pushed the button back through the slot, he raised his eyes. “Yeah.”

  He waited for her to blast him for ogling her. Instead, she continued their conversation as if she didn’t even notice.

  “Don’t worry, this place is a fortress.”

  “Really.” Max refocused his attention. “Security didn’t even budge when we came up.”

  She didn’t appear surprised by his accusation. “Rachel cleared you. Besides, security makes allowances for her clients. They assume there is a bodyguard in tow.”

  “What about cameras?”

  “We don’t have them in here, but the building is covered.”

  “Are all the doors secured?”

  She didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she studied her nails, as if bored with his interrogation. “You’re obsessed.”

  “It’s my job.”

  She narrowed her eyes until they resembled a Siamese cat on the prowl. “Is Hawke in some sort of danger?”

  Max chuckled at her suspicion. She was sharp. “The only thing Hawke is in danger of are overzealous groupies.”

  “You have nothing to worry about. Rachel is definitely not a groupie.”

  “Are you?”

  “No.”

  He peered over the top of his glasses and waited for her to answer his unvoiced request for explanation.