Beautiful Crazy Part 10

"Now, why are you so happy?" she asked.

"Looks like we're going to have a special guest at tomorrow's show."

An icy finger of apprehension slid down her spine. "Who?" she asked.

"You'll see tomorrow night."

"How the h.e.l.l is that fair?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow. It's your turn tonight." His eyes softened at the apparent strain on her face. "Don't worry about it, Bettie. Really."

"Whatever," she mumbled as the bus pulled into the club lot and parked. When the RV stopped, she jumped from her seat and darted out the door. She drew in long pulls of the fresh air. Hopefully, some deep breathing and stretching would quell the churning in her belly. She had to focus on the interviews today and the meet and greet tonight, not whatever card Mason had tucked up his sleeve.

The band's tour bus pulled up behind Mason's RV and came to a stop. A couple of minutes later, Mandi sauntered down the steps in hot-pink yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt. Peeling a banana, she waved at Kevan and walked over.

"Hey, chica, how's it going over there on the love bus?" she asked, brushing back a few wisps of her pink pixie 'do, managing to goad and appear the picture of innocence at the same time.

"You're kidding, right? We're competing for your business, remember?" Kevan replied, hoping the heat in her cheeks didn't show.

"And if you keep telling yourself that, we'll all believe it." Mandi nudged her with her shoulder. "Oh, relax, the guys are clueless. No one else can tell but me, and I'll never say anything." She drew her finger and thumb across her mouth like a zipper closing. Kevan gave her a weak smile. She didn't really have any close girlfriends and liked the idea of being friends with Mandi, even if Kevan was a few years older.

"Everyone awake?" Kevan asked, and Mandi nodded. "I set up a couple of interviews this afternoon. I'd really love to hand out an opportunity for a musician fan to join you guys onstage for a song. Think the band's up for it?"

"Definitely. How cool is that? Girl, you know I like your way of thinking." Mandi laughed. Her energy was contagious. "We're all eager to see your marketing stuff on this tour. Because most of us are serious about getting out of the garage and into the arena."

"Most of you?" Kevan asked.

"My brother's been acting kind of weird."

"Weird?"

"I don't know. Noncommittal." Mandi drew her brows together and rubbed the back of her neck. "He won't really talk about anything beyond this tour, and he's not chasing the girls like he used to."

"He likes to stay in the moment. It'll work out." Kevan stepped toward Mandi and put her hand on her shoulder, giving her a rea.s.suring squeeze. They made arrangements for everyone to meet an hour before the interview to discuss details and expectations and then said their good-byes.

After a quick walk to clear her head, Kevan returned to the kitchen area of the RV. Mason still sat working on his laptop. There really was no way around it. The man was hot. And the causal version of Mason was s.e.x-on-a-stick in old faded jeans hanging low on slim hips, beat-up Doc Marten boots, and a Portland Timbers henley shirt. Give the man a s.e.xy tattoo, and she'd be done for.

Done.

For.

Too bad she'd declared him off-limits. Maybe she should have thought that decision through. Was there really anything wrong with sharing some s.e.xy times with this man, especially since he seemed remorseful for leaving? She could keep her heart fenced off. Right? Well, no, probably not, but she could try. Besides, he was kind of a jerk. A s.e.xy jerk.

Kevan rubbed her thumb across the faded love bite he'd left on her shoulder. His mark. h.e.l.l's bells. Just thinking about his teeth on her, his lips sliding against hers, his tongue in her, his hard d.i.c.k...oh my G.o.d. Stop.

She was in big trouble if simply standing there observing him work was making her nipples pucker and her p.u.s.s.y wet. Thinking about the strength in those hands and the power of one look from him had her practically moaning in desire. No. Think about what a band-stealing, smug, player f.u.c.kwit he was.

Mason looked up from his laptop, and their gazes locked in mutual surprise. Dammit. She must have sighed or mumbled.

Holy h.e.l.l, this is going to be a very long trip.

He smiled, almost tentatively, his hesitancy endearing for such an overbearing man. Without thinking-as usual-she let her mouth curve up in response, but then broke eye contact and sat back down in front of her computer. The look was too intimate after everything they'd shared. He could see too deeply into her with those demon eyes.

Remember, he's the enemy.

She forced her thoughts back to obtaining Manix Curse and their business. There wasn't any room in her life for a fling, no matter how aflame the flinger made her feel. Better to focus on preventing her life from going down the toilet. She looked over at the tall man across from her as he chewed on the end of his pen. Was it weird to feel slightly jealous of the mangled plastic between the man's perfect teeth?

It was time to get lost in her drug of choice-music. Pulling her headphones back on, she turned up the volume on her iPod and scrolled through her playlists for something all consuming. Rockabilly? No. Hmmmm. Maybe some metal will help tune out the noise of my thoughts? In This Moment? Butcher Babies? No, something more melodic...yes, In Flames.

As the dulcet opening riffs of "Come Clarity" built and then roared through the earpieces, her head cleared, and a familiar warm, almost meditative calm fell over her. Yes, music was her happy place. At that moment, it enabled her to turn her mind away from the distracting man and back to building interest for the Eugene show and the rest of the tour.

Later that afternoon, the entire crew, including Mason and Joe, met at the college station. The band was ushered into a tiny recording studio to discuss the show that night and give away tickets to callers. The next interview at the local rock station exceeded all Kevan's expectations. For the first time in forever, everything was aligning properly.

The band members were perfect rock stars, silly and full of mischief, but interesting and pa.s.sionate about their music. At the radio station, lead singer Marco had taken his usual interest in the nearest hot chick and set his sights on the redheaded deejay by turning up the charm to ten and breaking into an impromptu performance of their most popular slow song. The rest of the band had joined in for an a cappella metal ballad. It had been sublime. Kevan had cringed, hoping Marco's on-again, off-again girlfriend, Sabre, hadn't been listening in.

Other than a professional, dignified smile, Mason showed no emotion as they walked single file out into the station lobby. He surprised her with a catlike wink when their eyes met. What was it about this straitlaced businessman that made her belly twist and nether regions damp?

It's a wink, Kevan. Just a wink.

Joking and laughing as they stumbled out into the darkening evening, they were met by a group of young metalheads. Disjointed chants of "Manix, Manix, Manix" rolled through the crowd, and the energy surge for the "hometown" heroes was palpable. As usual, pink-haired Mandi was immediately surrounded by her adoring fans, both male and female.

Content with the flush of success, Kevan didn't resist when Mason grabbed her hand and led her back to the RV. For a moment, she wanted to forget he was out of her league and the enemy.

At the bus, he whirled her around with her back cold against the textured steel vehicle, and placed his hands on her hips. She held her breath as he stared directly into her eyes-d.a.m.n cobra-charming man-and leaned into her. Oh G.o.d, he's going to kiss me. Please let him kiss me.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned her face up to his. Waiting. Her belly churning, she felt him shift, and the soft, scratchy hair of his beard brushed her cold face. When his lips finally made contact with her neck, her skin tingled, and the electricity arced between them. He dragged his mouth down the slope of her neck, burning her frozen skin and making her want so much from him. Her hands made their way from his strong shoulders to tangle in his hair. Then he pulled away and kissed her gently.

On the cheek.

Disappointed, she opened her eyes, silently asking the question. Why?

A wave of regret rolled over his face but quickly dissipated into the stoic, unreadable look he usually wore. "You're so lovely when you're happy. All your walls drop, and I can see the real you for a moment."

She longed to lean her tired head against his solid chest. She yearned for his strong arms to pull her into his embrace and his always-warm body to thaw her constant lonely chill. She ached for the soft kisses he'd placed at the top of her head the other night and his sharp nibbles at the tender spot on her shoulder. She wanted the committee in her head to quiet for a while as she lost herself in the bliss of Mason's body, his touch.

But, no. They weren't meant to be. There was the band, of course. But, also, they didn't live in the same world. He was Ivy League, and she was community college. He wasn't relationship material, and she was done with flings. There was not one d.a.m.n thing between the two of them that aligned.

Kevan stiffened in his arms. "Just because I smile and let you drag me away from all Manix's fanboys doesn't mean you know me, Mason. Don't think for one minute because you know where I like to be touched that you see the real me."

From down deep, she pulled the strength to duck under his arm and march back onto the bus to get ready for the show.

In the RV, Kevan took over the bathroom and the vanity in the bedroom to prepare for the concert. Her show-night ritual consisted of hot rollers, curling irons, vats of hair spray, and her "war paint," as Bowen called her going-out makeup. Next came choosing which ensemble to wear-fancy floral pinup-girl dress with a bright red crinoline and red patent leather peep-toe stacked heels.

When she stepped from the vanity into the living area an hour later, Mason was leaning against the small kitchen counter, tapping his booted toe against the linoleum floor and flipping pages on his phone. As he looked up at her, his gaze grew heated and his foot abruptly stopped. His usually unreadable face gave a brief hint of fire before he shut it down. He drew his gaze from Kevan's hair, over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and curves to where they landed on her feet. And stayed there. Her lips twitched with amus.e.m.e.nt.

Note to self: Mason Dillon likes high, shiny leather shoes. Not that I care.

"Shall we?" he asked without a trace of leftover tension from earlier. He offered his elbow, and she wrapped her fingers around his arm. The man cleaned up-or was it down?-well. Decked out in an untucked dark flannel shirt over a Black Sabbath T-shirt stretched tight across his wide chest, Mason looked edible.

"Are you planning on going to the after-party?" she asked as they walked across the long lot to the venue.

"Wouldn't miss it. And I want to keep an eye on you and the winners." His innocuous smile hinted at the dimple hidden in his trimmed beard.

"Huh?" Her face burned, and she stopped walking.

"The contest winners. I want to evaluate the success of your program."

She clenched her teeth and forced herself to answer in an even tone. "You're going to evaluate me? Geez, who the f.u.c.k do you think you are?"

"No. No..." he stammered. "I like your idea, and I want to see the results. The guy who won the song with the band could be really cool or an epic failure. Let's hope for your sake it's the former, not the latter," he teased. She smiled. Good, let him be arrogant. It would be all the more satisfying when it worked out in her favor.

"Sure, Mr. Marketing Iron Man," she said. Untangling herself, she smacked his tight denim b.u.t.t and sashayed off into the club, calling over her shoulder, "Watch and learn."

As usual, Kevan was a flurry of activity-checking merchandise sales, posting Instagram fan pictures and short videos, charming the local media. She gleaned the occasional brief glance of Mason throughout the night. She knew he still watched her like the first night at the Tiki Torch. She could feel the slight tingle at the back of her neck, the telltale sign that he had his eyes on her.

She wanted to be annoyed by his attention. Normally, she would be offended. She could take care of herself, right? It was obvious he wanted to get her into bed again. And, yet, she took comfort in knowing he was thinking about her, looking out for her. Even if it was to get his hands on her b.o.o.bies again or steal her band out from under her.

As a conversation with the opening band's manager ended with a promise of a meeting after the tour to discuss a promotional plan, Kevan realized she hadn't seen or felt Mason for at least an hour. She glanced around the s.p.a.cious room and caught sight of him in the back corner with Joe and a younger man, talking animatedly. The well-dressed younger man smiled broadly and shook Joe's hand, then shook Mason's hand. The other man stood grinning like the cat that had eaten the proverbial canary. But Mason didn't look happy. In fact, he wore a deep scowl and glowered, with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

Before she had a chance to run over and eavesdrop or process what might be going on, the lights went low, and the opening act took the stage. The packed club was primed by Chaotic Reign's set and went wild on the first note.

When Manix finally went on after ten, the crowd went ballistic. The sultry swell of Mandi's guitar filled the venue, and the lights at her feet washed her in a shadowy glow. Slung low across her front was a shiny new purple Gretsch Kevan had never seen before. Conner added in his long, slow ba.s.s line which drew in the hard drums of Jax, followed by Marco's whiskey-smooth growl. The pit opened, and the crowd turned into a ma.s.s tornado of sweat and music.

The fourth song into their set, Marco introduced the contest winner and invited him up onstage. The guy obviously knew their music but wasn't nearly as skilled on the guitar as Mandi. But after an awkward start and some patience on the part of the band members, he seemed to settle in. They let him play along for a few songs and then sent him offstage with the crowd cheering for him. It was awesome.

Kevan could hardly believe ninety minutes had pa.s.sed when the lights came up and the sweaty crowd shuffled toward the door, like a congregation exhausted and excised at the altar of heavy metal. She gathered the winning callers and the grand prize recipient from the radio show and took them back to meet the band.

Joining the after-party group at the bar, she introduced the winners and the band members. As she stood back and watched, she realized that regardless of what happened, they would all look back at the tour as the "good times." Her heart sank into her belly when her sense of urgency and all that loomed over her threatened to steal the warm, fuzzy feeling she should have had from the experience.

Her thoughts brought her back to the present. She needed an edge, something to tip the odds in her favor. She had hoped her friendship with the band members would help. Maybe she could appeal to their metal-scene lifestyle as well as their hardworking ethic.

Like her, they lived and breathed the music, but they all had real jobs, except college student Mandi. They all loved the music, got off on the energy and the vibe. But no one had been more surprised than the actual band members when their hobby had become a little something more.

She focused on Mandi, sitting on a battered barstool, holding a beat-up acoustic guitar, the pretty new one probably packed up on the bus. She'd lovingly signed the aged instrument and was plucking at it while talking with two of the meet-and-greet winners. Kevan didn't hear the entire conversation but a.s.sumed the guitar belonged to one of the fans.

Kevan smiled. Yep, no matter what happened with the contract-who won or lost-she would always remember this time with them. If they gained in popularity as quickly as she thought they would, Manix Curse would be huge. She would be proud to have known them, to have been part of their grand adventure and thrilled they had let her come along for the ride, even if her personal circ.u.mstances had sullied it a bit.

She felt Mason's warmth before he even spoke. "Looks like your meet and greet is a big hit, Bettie." The cadence of his deep voice sent shivers down her spine, threatening to chip away at her weakening walls.

"Thanks. Not too shabby for being thrown together at the last minute," she said without facing him. She didn't want him to see the way his compliment warmed her cheeks. Gathering the courage and the right words to ask about the man at the show, she tried for casual. "So, uh...who was that guy you and Joe were talking to earlier?"

His warm chuckle wafted gently over her scalp. "Were you looking for me earlier? I'm flattered."

"Don't be, only keeping my eye on the compet.i.tion." She cringed at her harsh tone. "And you're kind of hard to miss, being such a ginormously huge man and all."

"Yes, we've covered how big I am, haven't we?"

Ignoring his innuendo, she asked, "Seriously, who was that guy?"

"That guy is no one you need to worry your pretty head about."

Acid pooled in her gut. "Why was he talking to you and Joe?"

"f.u.c.k if I know."

Why is he lying?

"You're not breaking our deal, are you?" she blurted before she could craft her words more carefully.

"No, darlin', I'm not." He paused and leaned down to her ear, pulling back a lock of her hair. "Are you?" He took her lobe between his teeth and nipped; a sharp spike of desire shot through her like a bullet.

She shivered and felt her heartbeat triple. Did he mean their marketing deal or the hands-off deal? Did it really matter? How was it possible he could be burying her with his success and, at the same time, getting her as hot as melted chocolate? Her life was spiraling out of control, and all she could think about was how close his warm lips were to her ear. How his teeth felt on her body. How close his mouth was to that spot, the one spot on her shoulder he'd discovered.

The feel of his erection pressed tight against her lower back made her p.u.s.s.y pulse. When she pushed her hips back into his body, Mason's low growl in her ear spread through her like a forest fire. His fingers found her neck and painted flames across her collarbone. It was getting harder and harder to deny her visceral reaction to him.

She laid her head back against his solid chest and was reaching her hand up and around to touch his hair, when Ben, their driver, walked up, prim and proper as usual. Abruptly, she jumped away from Mason. The cool air between their bodies was a shock to the warmth that had just inhabited them.

"Sir, ma'am, we're ready to get on the road. The band should be about fifteen minutes behind us. Are you ready to depart?" The older man was as professional as an English butler, in spite of the metalheads yelling and laughing throughout the room. Apparently, nothing fazed Ben. Nothing yet, anyway.

After they said their good-byes and were preparing to walk out into the cool night, Jax snuck up, grabbed her arm, and dragged her off to the side.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Jax said in a loud whisper.

She pulled her arm back, clutching it against her chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She looked toward the door where Ben and Mason had walked out. "I'm not doing anything."

"Bulls.h.i.t, Kevan." His pointed glare dug into her like a sharp stick. "Look, I really do care about you." When she rolled her eyes, he held up his hand in protest. "That's not what I meant. Yes, you're hot, but I love you-like a sister."

She nodded, and the sincerity in his face lit his eyes.

"I see the way he watches you. I see the way you look at him. He's a nice guy. I get it. But..."

"But what?" But he's arrogant? But he's a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy? But he's too smart for me?

"He's a suit. Dabbles in the metal world, but he's not ready to move here, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, then why are you making me compete against him for the band's business?"

"You know if it were up to me we'd sign with you. No question." Jax released a frustrated sigh. "But it's not up to me. We signed financial and business decisions over to Joe, when we couldn't even agree on a stupid logo."

"I know. Had to ask." She squeezed his hand. "But why all the c.r.a.p about him being a suit, blah, blah, blah? Aren't you being a little hypocritical? Seems I remember you in law school for a couple of years," she blurted, sounding more like she was defending Mason, even admitting she was interested. Which she wasn't. "I couldn't care less what he is or where he lives or whatever. There's nothing going on between us."

Jax bent over and brushed a light kiss on her cheek. "It's not the same. And I was there when the a.s.shole professor tore your heart out and played baseball with it. Remember?" She felt her cheeks heat with the humiliation Ethan's public betrayal still elicited. "Birds of a feather and all that. We gotta stick together. We can play in their world, take their money, but we need to remember who our real friends are."

She shoved his rock-hard arm. "Why are you suddenly all mushy and worried about my feelings? Weren't you acting like you wanted in my panties a couple of days ago?"

His face transformed back into the rock star, and his dimples winked as he smiled. "Well, you're as hot as a winter campfire, and I want s'mores."