Leather, Lace and Rock-N-Roll Page 8

  “Come on in the kitchen.” Francie turned and they followed her into an enormous, brightly lit room. Rachel glanced at the table on one side, which her architectural eye told her was mahogany. It appeared to be freshly polished and the centerpiece, a beautiful tea pot that was most likely sterling silver, would make Cameron drool. No doubt about it, the woman had taste.

  Francie motioned them to sit at the table and then grabbed a book from the counter before joining them.

  Rachel laid a hand on Hawke’s forearm. “Why don’t I go see what Max and the boys are up to?”

  “No, stay,” Hawke insisted.

  “This sounds personal, Hawke. I—”

  “Please.”

  Rachel couldn’t resist the blatant sincerity in his deep, dark eyes. “Okay.”

  Francie giggled. “Didn’t think I’d ever see this.”

  Rachel felt her cheeks heat. Although somewhat embarrassed, she felt a pinch of satisfaction. If nothing else, Francie knew Hawke wanted Rachel there next to him.

  “We need to discuss visitation,” Hawke told Francie.

  Rachel’s eyebrows climbed her forehead. Visitation? Ohgawdohgawdohgawd. They weren’t even divorced yet. She made a quick lurch to stand, caught her heel on the chair in the process, and stumbled into Hawke.

  Hawke grasped her elbow to steady her. “Rachel, where are you going?”

  “This is certainly a conversation I do not need to be a part of.” She forced out the words as calmly as possible.

  Hawke’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

  Rachel took a deep, steady breath. “This is between you and Francine.”

  For a brief second, the only noise in the room was the ticking of the kitchen clock. Then Francine burst into laughter.

  “Oh, Hawke, you idiot! She thinks we’re married!”

  Rachel’s eyes grew wide once again as she glanced at Francine. “You’re not?” Oh great, open mouth, insert foot. “I’m sorry for my assumption. More than 70% of couples live together rather than marry, but still, this is between the two of you.”

  Francine giggled. “She’s very intelligent, Hawke.”

  Hawke grabbed Rachel’s hand and pulled her back into her chair. “Francie and I aren’t married, Rachel. We don’t live together, and we’ve never been a couple.”

  “But she said she’s the boys’ mother.”

  “I’m the house mother.” Francie gave Hawke a stern look. “You didn’t tell her?”

  “No,” Hawke mumbled.

  “I run this home for kids who are about to be adopted,” Francine explained. “Once they leave the state’s custody, they live here until the adoption process can be finalized. Hawke is a gracious benefactor who apparently doesn’t have any brains.”

  Relief surrounded Rachel like a warm blanket.

  “Hawke provides a scholarship for their education,” Francie continued. “In return, he insists on visiting the kids regularly once they are settled in their new homes.”

  Rachel stole a glance at Hawke. He gave her a weak smile. “We have more fun if I keep my visits quiet.”

  Bursts of laughter and machine gun fire floated down the hallway.

  “Quiet is not part of the vocabulary around here,” Francine mumbled.

  Hawke cleared his throat. “Did the Moralez’s sign the contract?”

  Francine flipped open her book. “Yes, everything’s in order. Antonio and Romeo are pumped about the whole thing.”

  Rachel smiled at Francine with a newfound respect. This woman she really liked. She had energy, spunk, and better yet, obviously kept Hawke’s head out of the clouds.

  Francine nudged Rachel’s elbow. “Do you play video games?”

  Rachel chuckled. “No, coloring book and sketch pads are more my thing.”

  “Good.” Francine motioned at Hawke with one hand. “Go play. Rachel and I will be in here if you need anything.”

  Hawke’s gaze bounced from one woman to the other and Rachel fought the urge to giggle. “Go, Hawke, she prompted.

  As if her consent was all he needed, he left the kitchen with a sexy smirk.

  Spending the remainder of the afternoon talking with Francine and watching Hawke’s interaction with the boys gave Rachel a whole new look into the man inside Jaydon Hawke. She found he was genuinely concerned about Antonio and Romeo, and at the same time they treated him as a big brother. There were no rock stars present today. No smoke and mirrors, just Hawke, rolling around on the floor, shooting creatures with his video game controller, basking in fun. So not what she expected.

  In fact, when she and Hawke were seated back on the plane, she was almost disappointed. She wondered if he would retreat back into his familiar rock star persona.

  “Did you have fun?” Hawke asked as the plane flew across the sky in the evening sun.

  Rachel nodded. “I did. Francine reminds me a lot of Cameron.”

  Hawke snickered. “You think? I have a feeling Cameron is one in a million.”

  Rachel leaned back in her seat as the plane gave a slight bounce. Desperate to keep herself distracted, she rolled her head toward him. “Hawke, why didn’t you tell me where we were going?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t even think about it. Things are so hush-hush when I travel.”

  She nodded, a little guilty for asking. She’d been so focused on his desire to remain in the spotlight that she didn’t even stop to think that secrecy was second nature to him.

  “Besides,” he said with a grin, “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “You did.”

  “And?”

  And now I’m really going to have to practice restraint. Rachel cleared her throat. “And what?”

  His grin slipped and she saw something close to disappointment flash in the depths of his eyes. Then, just as quickly, it disappeared.

  “I’m going back next week. Come with me.”

  Unbelievably tempted, Rachel stopped herself from a hasty response. If she agreed, she became one of those women. The ones who catered to his every desire.

  And lost her identity in the process.

  Cameron’s plan for Rachel to have fun with Hawke would have to be altered just a bit.

  “I’m sorry, Hawke, I’m booked solid next week.” Which was the truth.

  He frowned. “Every day?”

  She nodded and prepared for an argument. Instead, he seemed to accept her excuse and settled back against his seat. He laid his hand on the arm rest, palm up, and raised an eyebrow. She gave him a smile and rested her hand in his.

  “Maybe another time,” he said into the silence.

  “Maybe,” she agreed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  After a long, sleepless night of trying to make sense of Rachel’s reluctance, Hawke was tired and pissed off. Damn that woman. Why was she so stubborn?

  His feet felt heavy as he paced the floor. Even after their trip to Sacramento, she refused to open up. And it was his own damn fault. Never in his life did he expect his cover to come back and bite him in the ass. Most women would kill for an opportunity to be seen next to him. But then, Rachel wasn’t most women.

  He needed a new game plan. He stopped pacing in mid-step, almost frozen in place by his next thought. Cameron. A fleeting sense of fear wiggled up his spine. It was risky, confiding in Cameron, but the result may be worth the pain. But did he have balls enough to call her? No. Instead, he’d delegate. He punched the speed dial on his cell phone.

  “Greg, call Cameron Tremaine and tell her meet me here in an hour.”

  Hawke heard a dull thud across the line. “Don’t you think I should ask her?”

  Not in the mood to argue, Hawke released a frustrated breath. “Just call her.”

  “You’re sure about meeting her alone?”

  “Positive.” Hawke hung up to avoid any further discussion.

  He exhaled loudly while he resumed his earlier pace. This better work. Mainly because he’d never had to work so hard for female attention in his life. And once again, he didn
’t have a back-up plan.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, Max cringed as the heat-seeking missile dressed in designer clothing descended on him without warning and attempted to breeze past with a sexy wink. He extended an arm and grasped her elbow to bring her to an abrupt stop.

  “Hold on there a second, sex kitten.”

  Her eyes pierced him like daggers. “Sex kitten?”

  He gave her a lazy smile in response.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, my name is Cameron.” She sighed impatiently and glanced at her elbow. “Now, unhand me. I have a meeting with Hawke.”

  Max chuckled at her haughty tone and led her away from the elevator. “No one told me.”

  “Hawke is expecting me,” she insisted through gritted teeth. She struggled to free herself from his iron grip as he pulled her further down the hall.

  “If I had a dollar for every time a pretty face claimed Hawke expected her, I’d be a rich man.”

  “Listen, Neanderthal,” she screeched as she spun out of his grasp, “I bruise easily!”

  Max looked down at her pale skin and loosened his hold. He knew damn well he wasn’t hurting her, but just to keep the peace, he’d humor her. This time.

  “It’s Max, and I don’t bully beautiful women.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.” She cut her eyes at him and rubbed her elbow.

  “Stand right here.” He stabbed numbers on his cell phone. A few short words later, he disconnected.

  “You’re late. Hawke expected you an hour ago.”

  She stuck out her tongue.

  Max shifted his weight and for a split second considered shoving the pink temptation back in her mouth with his own tongue. Instead, he fueled the fire. “You can go up after you do one thing.”

  She squinted. “What’s that?”

  “Rub my head. For luck.”

  Her eyes widened. “You are absolutely out of your mind!” she squealed.

  Possibly. Max shrugged and leaned against the elevator door. “Either that or show me the goods.”

  The she-devil in a blood-red short skirt appeared to study him intently for a minute, as if weighing her options. He knew she wouldn’t back down from his challenge. And that made him hard. Crazy hard.

  Finally, with a look that would make a centerfold seem innocent, she closed the distance between them. Her tender touch burnt his skin as she walked her fingertips up his biceps, raised a small, delicate arm, and caressed the neatly polished surface on top of his head.

  Gee-zus. A man of his word, Max pushed himself off the door and motioned for her to board the elevator. He swallowed hard and hoped to hell she wouldn’t notice how hard she made him. She gave him an unladylike snort as he followed her inside the open doors.

  Eternally thankful their short ride was silent, he delivered her to Hawke’s suite and made a quick exit. A little of her went a long way and he planned to take that up with Hawke later. Just not now. He needed a break. A long one.

  Cameron stormed through the door of Hawke’s suite, her blonde curls bouncing with each step.

  “Hawke, you better tell that bouncer down there to keep his hands to himself.” She tossed her zebra-print purse to the couch. “I only flashed him to get backstage, not as an invitation.”

  Hawke grinned. According to Max, she had quite a way with invitations.

  “What took you so long?”

  Cameron shrugged matter-of-factly. “Patience builds character, Hawke. Besides, I’m on my own time.”

  He sighed. She wasn’t going to make this easy.

  “Now,” she continued, plopping down on the couch, “to what do I owe the privilege of this visit?”

  He winced. “I need your help.”

  She batted her eyelashes. “Rachel?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Honestly, Hawke,” she scoffed, “you’re not the first adventurer to attempt to conquer Mt. Rachel.”

  “I don’t want to conquer her, Cameron. I just want a chance to get to know her.”

  She squinted at him. “I just might be able to help you,” she began, raising his spirits, “on one condition.”

  Damn. He probably should’ve expected this. “What’s that?”

  “I want your drummer.”

  “Pirelli?”

  “Yes, Pirelli. On a platter.”

  “I can’t just hand him to you, Cameron.”

  “No,” she agreed, “but you can arrange a private meeting.”

  Hawke gave himself a mental pat on the back. She had no idea how easy that would be. Petite, flamboyant, busty blondes with baby blue eyes were exactly what Pirelli ordered. Not information she needed to know.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Great! What do you want me to do?”

  “Clear her schedule, except for me.”

  Cameron studied her nails as if bored with the whole idea. “Rachel keeps her own schedule.”

  “And Pirelli just might have a girlfriend,” he countered.

  She laughed and bounced off the couch. “I’ll hand it to you, Hawke, you have exceptional bluffing skills.”

  “I’m not bluffing.”

  She threw her purse back over her shoulder. “Yes you are. But I’ll help you anyway.”

  She walked to the door and paused with her hand on the doorknob. “By the way, I’m free every night this week.”

  Hawke frowned. “Where are you going?”

  “I’ve got a meeting. I could only spare you ten minutes and your handsy bodyguard used most of them.”

  He swallowed hard. “But, what about strategy?”

  She smiled mischievously as she flung open the door. “I don’t need strategy.”

  She gave Max a cursory glance over her shoulder and swung one hip at him as she swayed down the hall.

  Max heaved a muffled curse and entered the suite. “Women should not be allowed to shake their asses in public. Especially an ass like hers.”

  Hawke ran a hand through his hair. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Max pushed the door closed. “You expect me to believe that?”

  Although aggravated by Cameron’s ability to manipulate his plan, Hawke couldn’t help but envy her spunk. Yet, admitting he appreciated Cameron’s attributes would be extremely dangerous. One look at the no trespassing warning on Max’s face said it all. Hawke opted for non-response.

  Max didn’t seem to be bothered by his silence. “You’re still in one piece.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t too bad.”

  “The ass or the conversation?”

  Hawke snickered. “The conversation.”

  “Anything I should know?”

  Hawke opened his mouth to tell Max about their bargain and then decided against it. “She agreed to help me with Rachel.”

  Max snorted. “Not too sure that was smart, Hawke.”

  “You might be right.” Especially since now Hawke was sure Max wanted Cameron. “How about we discuss it over lunch and a beer?”

  Max frowned. “You’re not gonna get plastered and share your feelings, are you?”

  “No. I just thought we both needed to unwind.”

  “You want to stay in or go out?”

  “Out. I need some air.”

  “Agreed.” Max led the way out the door.

  While they waited for the elevator, Max called ahead to clear their exit from the hotel.

  “Back door,” he said as they stepped off the elevator.

  Security waited at the back door and quickly shuffled Hawke into the waiting Suburban. Max opened the driver’s door and then reached to remove a baby pink card from under the windshield wiper. He tossed it across the seat before sliding behind the wheel. “You have mail.”

  Hawke flicked the card open with one thumb and read the message:

  I WON’T DENY YOU, HAWKE

  Max steered out of the parking lot. “What flavor?”

  Hawke smudged the familiar lipstick print with his index finger. “I’m thinking Wild Cherr
y.” He licked the lipstick from his finger. “Yeah, Wild Cherry.”

  “Want me to check it out?”

  “Nah.” Hawke tossed the card to the seat beside him. “It’s harmless.”

  ***

  Cameron sat cross-legged on the sofa in the reception area and erased the last name from Rachel’s appointment book, almost labeling herself a traitor. Rachel would kill her if she knew about the deal Cameron made with Hawke not more than three hours ago. She released a long breath and blew the eraser crumbs to the floor. Too late now, she wasn’t about to undo all her hard work. Not after she spent all afternoon lying through her teeth to convince so many people Rachel was actually taking some time off.

  She paused for a brief moment to analyze her motives behind this whole zany scheme. Never for a moment did she regret agreeing to help Hawke. After the short amount of time she’d met with him, she felt confident he was sincere about his feelings for Rachel. And realistically, Sean Pirelli had nothing to do with it. Especially since his earlier phone call when he agreed to work her in.

  Cameron reached for the phone beside the sofa and dialed Hawke’s number. Rachel just needed a gentle push, for her own good. She worked an earring loose as she waited for Hawke to answer.

  “Hi, Rachel.”

  She stuck her tongue in her cheek. “Not Rachel, Zippy.”

  “Cameron?”

  Cameron tossed the earring to the table in front of the couch. “Well, duh. Don’t you have caller ID?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well then, who else do you know at Newberry & Tremaine except me and Rachel?”

  “No one. What did you call me?”

  “Zippy, your codename.”

  She heard him release a long breath and she took the opportunity to continue. “Since you’re so anxious to zip right through this, I did what you asked. There’s just one catch.”

  “What now?”

  “You’re out 25 pairs of concert tickets, six backstage passes and fourteen french kisses.”

  “Pirelli was the trade.”