Chapter 1
Dear Ida,
Women adore me, but the right one remains elusive. Where can a good-looking, successful guy such as myself find love? – Hot Rocker on Hiatus
* * *
Dear Hot,
Sounds like you have an inflated sense of self-importance. Maybe you’re not all that hot. Get over yourself, and Ms. Right will find you when she’s good and ready.
~ * ~
Jace
“Have dinner with me tonight.”
I uttered the command with the utmost confidence that she’d say yes. Most women did on those rare occasions when I found a woman who’d captured my interest. That was my prerogative. I could afford to be selective.
I stood just inside her office, forcing my feet to remain in place instead of following her across the room. I contented myself with taking a moment to appreciate her toned, curvy legs and the feminine sway of her hips as she walked away from me.
Only when my view was impeded by her desk did I raise my gaze. She tucked an errant strand of golden silk behind her ear and picked up a folder. The stunning beauty remained standing, choosing to focus her attention on what was in her hand rather than on me.
“No.”
No. I rolled the word around in my mind. It seemed vaguely familiar, as if I might have heard it a long time ago. Certainly, no one had said that word to me in recent memory. My interest clicked up another notch.
“Ross has no problem discussing business over dinner,” I countered.
Ross O’Farrell—the face, voice, and overall front man and CEO of Backstage Pass Record Studios—loved to wine and dine his clients. The fact that my guys and I generally found such transparent brownnosing particularly unappealing had no bearing whatsoever in this conversation though.
“I am not Ross.” Her voice resonated like a clear, perfectly tuned note in my head. Her tone held no hint of the usual flattery or flirtatiousness women often employed in the hopes of tempting me. It went well with her natural beauty, unmarred by all but the lightest touch of cosmetics. And those black-rimmed glasses perched on that delicate, slightly upturned nose? Sexy AF.
“I am quite well aware of that.” I’d have to be without a pulse not to be. My eyes and ears had already been captivated, though her scent alone had been enough to have my slumbering libido wake up and take a nice stretch. My fingers tingled at the tips, and my tongue moved restlessly behind my teeth. Touch and taste wanted to crash the sensory party too.
She looked up, surprising me with a flash of something that looked like vulnerability. It only lasted for a moment, so brief that I was certain I was mistaken. By the time I blinked my sleep-deprived eyes, she looked just as frustratingly cool and professional as she had all morning.
“I’m sorry about the sudden change in plans, Mr. Logan.”
“Jace,” I corrected for the sixth or seventh time.
And just like the previous times, she ignored me. Surprisingly, I found her obstinacy both arousing and annoying.
“Ross asked me to convey his apologies. Something unexpected came up, but he wanted me to assure you that he will meet with you as soon as he returns. In the meantime, I will personally oversee things for you and your band.”
She bit her lip then, and I most definitely saw that. The natural, frosty beauty wasn’t quite as confident as she liked to appear. I could work with that.
I smiled my trademark cocky half-grin, the one the women in my family joked could melt the iciest of shields. They weren’t wrong, and I wasn’t above using business as a convenient excuse to get what I wanted. Again, my prerogative.
“Exactly my point. If I’m to place myself in your hands for the foreseeable future, I should know what I’m getting into, don’t you think? Have dinner with me.”
A twitch of her pretty pink lips suggested she was not completely unaffected, or, at the very least, found me mildly amusing.
“No, Mr. Logan.”
“Call me Jace. And why not?” I pressed.
It was a legitimate question. I was a good-enough-looking guy with a modicum of talent. One top industry publication even heralded me as one of the most desired men in the business. Not to mention, I was insanely well-off, thanks in large part to the marketing and PR efforts of the woman in front of me and some sound investments. At the sake of sounding immodest, I was a damn good candidate for a dinner companion.
As was she. The enigmatic and elusive Eva D’Agolino—partner of Backstage Pass and music promoter extraordinaire—was an incredibly feminine, extremely attractive woman.
That wasn’t what had me following her around all day though. It was the sudden flare of interest, the immediate tug I’d felt in my gut the moment she met us at the airport. I’d been instantly drawn to her, and let me tell you, that was a rare thing.
This instant attraction, for lack of a better word, was definitely enough to warrant a bit of effort on my part. I’d just have to dig deeper for the innate Logan charm since she wasn’t impressed by my money, fame, or looks. That alone shot her up several notches in my opinion.
“I’m flattered, really, but I’m not what you want.” She smiled, an obvious attempt to soften the rejection.
A couple hours ago, I might have agreed with her, but that was before I’d sat across from her in the stretch limo, inhaling her unique, feminine fragrance and trying not to stare at her shapely legs, crossed conservatively and leaving me wanting more.
I mean, I was a mature, successful man who’d traveled the world many times over. I’d seen and done everything at least twice, more if I found something particularly pleasurable. When you lived a good part of the year on the road and had hordes of young women flashing you night after night, it was only natural to become desensitized. Something as simple as the curve of a woman’s calf above a slim ankle bedecked with a fine gold chain barely registered on my radar these days. The fact that hers had? It intrigued me.
So, yeah, maybe I was being uncharacteristically persistent, following her around like an eager puppy, opening doors and trying to get her to go out with me while the rest of the band went back to the hotel.
Now, before you start shaking your head, mentally chastising me for thinking it was all about the challenge, you’re wrong. Sure, I liked a challenge, but it was more than her pretty face, sexy legs, and cool disinterest that appealed to me.
I couldn’t explain exactly what it was. I could only tell you that something about her called to me on a level I didn’t understand. Something familiar. As if I’d known her before, like in a past life or something. It was the strangest thing, especially since I wasn’t a big believer in that kind of cosmic crap. I did, however, believe that things happened for a reason, and that included this fortuitous crossing of paths with Ms. D’Agolino.
We were on a six-month hiatus in between tours. The plan was to write some new songs, lay down new tracks, and shoot a few videos while getting in some much-needed downtime. That left plenty of time for me to solve the mystery of what it was about this woman that so captivated me.
I wasn’t going to rest until I figured it out. Or until she slapped a restraining order on me. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that because I could be pretty determined when I wanted something. Right now, I wanted her. And clearly, she had no idea who she was dealing with if she expected me to give up so easily.