Beautiful Crazy Part 6

"Afraid you might have to actually work for this contract, Bettie?" he scoffed, grabbing her hand and placing her keys in her palm. "Then run away, little mouse. Now who's the liar? Your whole cheeky-chick thing is all a front, isn't it?"

Once again, she squinted, and the scalding heat was back in her eyes. Inwardly, he smiled. Now we're getting somewhere.

Her face darkened, and the knuckles on one hand turned white as her fingers grasped her handbag. "No, you jacka.s.s. I'm not wasting my time going on a tour, battling for a band that'll end up signing with you anyway."

"Giving up that easily? Thought you had more fight in you." He pivoted on his foot as if to walk away, hoping the lump in his chest would dissolve.

"I can't compete against you and a company like yours. You have a staff; I have one full-time a.s.sistant and a part-time intern. You have money and resources I don't have. I can't waste my time on a job I don't have a shot at." She huffed back to her battered Volvo and tried to shove the key into the lock.

Mason moved up behind her, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her shoulders, and instead stilled her frantic movements with his hand on hers. The soft skin of her cold fingers sent a punch of tight awareness straight to that knot his chest. He longed to enfold her cold body in his warm one.

"What if I make you a deal?" What his board didn't know, right? They had barely agreed to the superficial development contract he'd offered Demon Hill. So why not make it fair?

Skeptical, she glared at him over her shoulder. G.o.d, she was so beautiful it made his heart ache a little. No, not my heart, dumb f.u.c.k, my d.i.c.k.

"What kind of deal?"

He removed his hands and stepped back, giving her some s.p.a.ce. She turned and leaned back against the car. "We compete for the contract fair and square. Mano a mano. Your wits against mine. I promise a fair fight."

It was a stupid idea, but for some reason he really wanted her to say yes. He held his breath. Waiting. He hoped her long exhale indicated her resignation.

"No." Her eyes, the color of blue steel, held his gaze unflinchingly. Why was her first response always no? "I...I can't risk it."

But her hesitancy convinced him of an opening, so he went in for the kill. "So you have some other low-hanging-fruit opportunity waiting for you?"

She pushed off from the car and stood with her shoulders thrown back, her chin tilted up. Her face began to redden from his taunts, but she said nothing.

"Or maybe it's because you're afraid you can't keep your hands off me?"

"So this is about getting into my pants..."

Good question. What was he doing? "No, it's about-"

"What is it about then, Mason?" she asked, suspicion dripping from her simple question. "You're the one who left without even a polite good-bye. I wasn't expecting flowers and poems. Let's just call it what it was: a misguided one-nighter. But now this. What am I supposed to say?"

Misguided? He leaned forward. The side of his mouth brushed her ear, sending jolts of sensation straight to his c.o.c.k. "I shouldn't have left this morning. But this tour is a great opportunity. For both of us. And even if you lose the band, which I'm not saying you will, there might be other potential acts and venues you can book."

Her breath hitched, but she didn't move. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because you don't really have a better option, do you?" he said softly.

"Maybe," she said finally and put both her hands on his chest to push him away.

"Really?" He couldn't help the smile threatening to take over his face. So much for his reputation as the cool, collected negotiator. Willem Maxfield, GEM's founder and chairman, had nicknamed him The Ice Man years ago, but this woman got under his skin like a blowtorch and melted his calm, cool sh.e.l.l to a big, messy puddle.

"Under one condition. Okay, two conditions," she said.

He tried not to roll his eyes, but as she'd reduced him to a teenage boy, it was more difficult than he would have thought.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes. "What conditions?"

"If you lie to me one more time, the deal is off. You walk away, and I sign Manix Curse without a fight from you or GEM."

"Didn't lie, darlin'. I honestly didn't know you were there last night to see Manix until this morning." He paused. "What's the second condition?"

She stood up straight and tilted her head to peer directly into his eyes, and that sugary vanilla smell filled his nose. "We forget last night ever happened, and we don't repeat it."

Uneasiness trickled down his spine, pooling and souring in his belly. How could he ever forget the best s.e.x of his life? How could she? Impossible. Ridiculous, even. h.e.l.l, he'd agree to just about anything to be near her for a little while. At this point, he'd take what he could get and work on her resolve later. Work her up until she was ready to scratch her nails down his back and scream his name as he pulled her hips from behind and pounded into her.

"Fine. I'll agree to it. For now." He stood there, feeling awkward. If he couldn't kiss her or dry hump her against the car, what now?

She provided the answer by offering her slim hand.

Really?

"After I had my fingers and c.o.c.k in your perfect little p.u.s.s.y and you were quaking with l.u.s.t in my arms, you want to shake hands?" He quirked an eyebrow.

Her hand shook slightly, but she kept it in place.

"Don't be an a.s.s. This is a business deal. Shake."

So he did.

"You're agreeing to go on tour?" he asked, trying to keep his tone even.

"I'm agreeing to think about it."

He stood, numb, while she unlocked her car and pulled open the door, cringing at the sound of metal grinding against metal. She threw herself into the car and revved the engine. Then nothing. After a second try, the engine turned over and chugged to life. He stood watching her through the window as she busied herself on her phone, presumably waiting for her old heap to warm up. Finally, she put the car into gear, and without another look in his direction, drove out of the parking lot.

Mason didn't want to question why he wanted her to go on tour and why he'd made such a ridiculous deal. He'd worry about that later. First, he'd save his job and have some fun with Kevan. Then he'd move on with his happy little life. Feeling half-heartedly positive about his path, he watched as her car drove out of sight. Finally turning away, he climbed into his BMW M5.

He punched the band manager's number in his phone and spoke. "Hey, Joe, it's Mason. I think we're both good to go on the road with you. I'm definitely on board and you'll probably get a call from Kevan soon. What time should we be there?"

He wasn't letting this opportunity pa.s.s, and he sure as h.e.l.l wasn't letting Kevan move on. Not yet.

Chapter 7.

Leaving Mason standing in the parking lot was hands down, one of the most uncomfortable things Kevan had ever done. The physical ache in her heart was a surprise, like the almost overwhelming desire to run her fingers through his hair while screaming in his face. She wanted to wrap her hands around his throat at the same time she wanted to kiss his beautiful, lying mouth.

Go figure.

Kevan parked in the lot next to the small cottage she'd rented to house her fledgling business. This part of town was just off the main drag of the trendy Hawthorne area, with retro houses turned into boutiques and small firms. The shabby but cute and funky bungalow wasn't a traditional office. Sort of like Kevan, which was why it felt so special to her. Her s.p.a.ce. Her office. Her dream. If Mason Dillon and his robo corp didn't put her out of business.

Her little office had been home to a number of businesses long gone, but she loved the lighting and its turn-of-the-century style. Because it had housed a salon, a toy store and-before that-a record store, the small rooms hadn't required much work to make them serviceable.

She enjoyed working at Tatuaggio part-time and loved that it was less than a block away. The camaraderie and energy of the tattoo shop was so positive, but this place was her future and true pa.s.sion, where she wanted to build her own thing, make her own stamp on the entertainment and business fronts.

She pushed on the front k.n.o.b, and the door swung in without any resistance. The door was unlocked. That's odd. "Tina? Sindra?"

Her voice echoed through the small building. It was the middle of the day, and no one was in the office. Why had Tina left the door unlocked? So unprofessional. How were they ever going to be taken seriously if they couldn't even lock their own doors?

Hopefully, her a.s.sistant had her schedule somewhere on her computer. Walking to Tina's desk in the small lobby, she punched the pa.s.sword on the keyboard and received an error. After three more attempts, Kevan gave up and huffed down the short hall toward her office. She'd talk to Tina tomorrow about locking her out of her computer, especially since she was probably going to have to let her go anyway.

Kevan would have to wait until she got Tina's pa.s.sword to print out her schedule for the next couple of weeks. She was fairly certain there wasn't anything on the calendar that would prevent her from going on tour with Manix. Other than driving out to see Bowen at the treatment center that afternoon, her schedule looked pretty bleak.

She glanced in the other small office, a creative arts s.p.a.ce for her graphic artist intern, Sindra, and continued past the kitchen-turned-conference room that still served as the place to eat. A lot of scrubbing, some rearranging of shelves and storage s.p.a.ce, and several buckets of paint had turned the inside of the dated bungalow into an elegant and quirky office. Kevan was a firm believer in using color as a design element, especially when money was an issue. And money was always an issue.

At her desk, she threw herself into her chair and sighed loudly. Usually, she felt immediately centered and filled with purpose in her office. It was a s.p.a.ce where her creative juices flowed and her best ideas materialized. A girl with her stellar history of failure-failed family, failed relationships, failed schooling-had built this beautiful s.p.a.ce with her brains and tenacity. She'd taken the s.h.i.t life had given her and turned it into something for herself. Even if she did still have to work at the tattoo shop to make ends meet.

Today she felt none of that self-confidence. Icicles of doubt and the acidic bite of fear had settled into her chest and taken root after Mason had snuck out that morning. It was camping out for a while, eating away at the foundation she'd forged, revealing and reigniting the heartache of never being good enough-always the curvy girl with the pretty face. All beauty and no brains, her father's voice echoed in her head.

Now that Mason had provided her with a fighting chance by offering a battle of wits and skill, she had more to worry about. Even if he didn't have some sneaky hidden agenda, he could change his mind about their flimsy deal anytime he wanted to. It would be much easier for him to bring a team in to romance Manix Curse. He was the kind of guy who never lost. He probably didn't even know how. Unlike Kevan, who was practically an expert.

While she couldn't afford losing the money from not working at the tattoo shop, she couldn't afford to lose the opportunity either. Another issue was whether or not she could stick to her condition of hands-off. The man was hot. But Mason had probably lost all interest once he'd seen her pitch sitting on her kitchen counter. Besides, he was a jerk. Yeah, that ship had sailed and sunk.

Boy, she had a s.h.i.tty track record with men, starting with the football captain in high school, then various tattoo artists and musicians. The latest, a little over a year ago, had been Ethan. She could almost hear her dad's voice chiding her on her pathetic first attempt at a serious relationship, laughing at her public humiliation as the ever-present cloud of cigarette smoke engulfed him and he sloppily chugged on a beer. She'd ignored the warning signs, including her lukewarm reactions to Ethan's s.e.xual prowess, and had kept plodding along, trying to make it work.

The mind-numbing pain Kevan had felt when she'd met Ethan's lovely little fiancee had seemed debilitating at the time. Sweet Jessica was everything you'd expect a professor's fiancee to be-smart, pretty, quiet, polite. Nothing like Kevan. The shock on his face when Kevan had run into them at the movies had been priceless. Almost enough to dilute the agony of betrayal. He was the reason she'd sworn off men, especially Suits.

Instead, she'd taken her anger and worked her a.s.s off to finally finish her bachelor's degree, while working as a pinup model for a local retro clothing designer and running the tattoo parlor Tatuaggio. She had taken her shiny new certificate, applied for and received a small business loan from her local credit union, and hung out her shingle for business while still holding down another job. But her loan was coming due, and she had major cash-flow issues. Then there was Bowen.

Looking around the office she loved so much, her eyes fell on a picture of her, Tony, and Bowen at a pool party last year. Their tattooed arms were wrapped around her shoulders as she smiled up at her big brother with affection. Bowen had his head thrown back in laughter. Bowen on a good day. Tony Martelli, the owner of Tatuaggio, and all the employees had thrown her a surprise party in celebration of her new business. They were the closest thing to a real family she and Bowen had had since their mom died.

The memory filled her with warmth and sadness, and tears began to well in the corners of her eyes. Minutes after the picture was taken, Bowen and Nathan had tossed her in the pool. She'd been furious about her ruined hair and makeup and her soaking dress for all of two minutes. Then she'd looked at their happy, laughing faces, and her heart had filled with overwhelming love for the family she and Bowen had built themselves from the ashes of their ruined childhood.

Kevan jumped when the front door slammed.

"h.e.l.lo?" Tina's voice pierced the otherwise quiet building. "Kevan?"

"Back here," she yelled, her gut swirling with acid. She was sick of Tina's bulls.h.i.t but still didn't relish the idea of letting her go. Maybe she should wait until after the tour.

A few seconds later, Tina peeked her flushed face into the room. "So, how'd the meeting go?"

"The presentation went well." She frowned. "Even though half the slides were missing."

"Oh no. I must have copied the wrong one. Maybe you should be responsible for your own files." Tina had the grace to appear mildly apologetic, but as usual, made it Kevan's fault. "But the meeting went okay?"

"Sure." If you consider a total nightmare okay. "Where were you?"

Tina looked down at the mail in her hand and shuffled through the envelopes. "I went to see my grandma. She's sick." She looked up at Kevan and narrowed her eyes. "So if everything went great, why do you look like your dog died?"

"Mason Dillon, GEM's CEO, was there."

"And..." Tina tapped the stack of mail she was holding against her leg.

Kevan wasn't in the mood to rehash the meeting or her confrontation with Mason, so she cut to the chase. "They want me to go on tour with them."

"Cool. Why don't you sound excited?" She leaned her short, narrow body against the doorframe, her mile-high stilettos crossed at her ankles.

"They invited him, too. They want a marketing cage fight between the two of us. Old school versus new school. Very heavy metal." Kevan snorted.

Tina rolled her eyes. "And that's a problem? If you can't compete in the brains department, you could always screw him."

Kevan's pulse pounded in her ears, and her jaw nearly dropped. Before she could respond, Tina continued like she hadn't just verbally slapped Kevan. "Oh chillax, I was just kidding. Have you considered this might be a gift? At least it's not the Argyle douchebags. You know, you might learn something from him. Even steal some tricks from his fancy marketing bag."

Kevan crossed her arms on the desk as she counted to five before speaking. "I am not interested in stealing anything from his bag of tricks." Except maybe another kiss. Whoa, where had that come from? She couldn't let those kinds of thoughts sneak up, especially with Tina nosing around in her personal business. "And teaming up with them is not going to happen. Besides, I can't afford to leave Jolt for two weeks to go on the road with a metal band and some arrogant business guy. I need to be here, running this business."

Tina's grin returned. "You slept with him, didn't you?"

"Who?" Kevan asked, looking away and hoping Tina couldn't see the truth on her face.

"Dillon. GEM's CEO. You screwed him didn't you?"

Kevan sighed and looked back at Tina. "We are not talking about my s.e.x life. I'm talking about Jolt."

"I freakin' knew it. But whatever. So if it isn't because you screwed him, it's because of the business?" Tina taunted, wrinkling her nose and curling her lips. "News flash, sweetie. We don't have any business. We have bills, not clients. A couple of bands, a freak-show entertainer, and a tattoo shop are not enough to keep us going. We'll be closed in a month if you don't do something now." She took the stack of bills she held in her hand and tossed it on Kevan's desk.

Kevan held her breath for a moment. Tina's blunt words had hit their mark. It hurt, but it was true.

Before she could respond, Tina said, "I don't mean to be harsh, but what happens to me? And Sindra? And your brother-"

"Stop," Kevan ordered, keeping her voice even. She stood and stepped around her desk to stand in front of Tina. "Look, seeing as I don't know whether or not I'm going to be able to sign Manix, maybe it's best if you start looking for something else."

Tina's mouth dropped open, and she pulled back. "Wait. You're f.u.c.king firing me?" She stared in disbelief. "After everything I've done for you?"

"No. I'm letting you go. You're right. I'm out of money. This tour is a last-ditch thing, and who knows what's going to happen." Kevan felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest when she admitted her possible failure aloud.

"Whatever," Tina practically spat. "Good luck, princess. I hope you know what you're doing." Tina turned to walk away. "I'm beat and going home."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Kevan said. As Tina stomped down the hall, Kevan remembered the locked computer. "Hey, you changed the pa.s.sword on your computer. Make sure you email it to me."

The building shook as the front door slammed shut. Tina had every right to be p.i.s.sed, resentful-whatever she was-but Kevan was almost to the point of not giving a s.h.i.t either way. The constant battle with Tina had long begun to overshadow any value she'd once had as an employee, let alone as a quote, unquote friend.

Her thoughts drifted to Bowen. Regardless of what happened with Jolt, Kevan couldn't let her brother down. Until the last year, when his addictions had gotten out of control, he'd always been there for her. Like when their mother had died from breast cancer. Or when their dad had gone off the deep end and buried his grief in a bottle. A teenage Bowen had done his best to keep their abusive father from dragging them down into his abyss.

Her phone alarm sounded through the quiet office, snapping her attention back to the present. Time to stop wallowing in her own self-indulgent misery and drive out to see Bowen at New Beginnings. A noxious blend of emotions had been boiling in her gut all week. She was terrified that the man who used to be her brother would be different, and even more terrified that he hadn't changed at all.

As she locked the front door and turned to her car, she marveled at how easily she rolled from one cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k to another. Like a champ.