Beautiful Crazy Part 8

For a moment-barely a couple of bats of her long lashes-her guard was down, and he saw the woman from the other night, the wanton seductress with the hooded eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone. He could almost hear the click as her mask fell firmly back into place.

She pulled against the hand he had above her head. "Let me go, Mason. I'm at work. And we're not happening ever again."

"Never say never."

"I didn't. I said ever... Never mind, just let me go." Kevan shoved her hip bones forward, pushing against his upper thighs and rubbing her body dangerously close to his d.i.c.k. G.o.d, he wanted to f.u.c.k this woman again. Preferably sooner than later. But almost instantly, she realized her mistake. Her lips parted, and her breath hitched before she groaned in despair and leaned her head back against the door. "I can't do this. We can't do this."

"Why?" Mason asked, his tone like that of a petulant child sounded unfamiliar to his own ears. G.o.dd.a.m.n, her soft curves molded against his taller, harder body so perfectly. Something about this woman sucked him in, made him want more. Trying to salvage control of the situation, he tried a different tactic. "We're both consenting adults. We obviously have chemistry. Why not have some fun?"

As he leaned down closer, their lips were a hair's width away from touching. All the pleasure receptors in his brain fired as the memory of the other night flooded in. Images of their bodies tangled for hours in pleasure. From the moment he'd heard she was going on tour, he'd decided he needed more time with her...to work her out of his system. Pressing his mouth against hers, he whispered, "Live a little, Bettie, and have some fun with me."

For a moment, she pressed back, her lips and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pushed against his body. The contact sent familiar sparks of desire through him. Dragging in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and turned her head, pulling her face away from his. When she opened her eyes, he was no longer looking into pools of desire, he was-once again-looking into the eyes of a very p.i.s.sed-off woman.

"Fun, Mason? This is my work. I'm not here to have fun. And signing Manix Curse is not something I'm doing for s.h.i.ts and giggles. I take my business seriously. I'm sorry if you don't." She shoved at him again, but this time he stepped away and silently mourned the loss of her body heat against his.

Irritation at her rebuke began to bubble up and turned a little darker, a little redder, and felt a little more like anger.

"Don't kid yourself. I take everything seriously." He waved his hand back and forth between them. "You. Me. The band. Don't make the rookie mistake of underestimating me." He put a hand on either shoulder and gently but firmly moved her away from the door. Before releasing her, he kissed her cheek, savoring the sweet smell and soft give of her skin. "This isn't over."

Fixing her steely gray stare at him, she took a deep breath and asked, "Why are you here?"

"Just checking in with the band before we start the tour." He nudged her to the side and pulled the door open. "Nothing nefarious or underhanded. Not the villain here, Kevan."

He turned and walked out to the open work area, hopefully leaving Kevan staring at his back.

Luckily, both Jax and Conner were done with their clients and were standing at the gla.s.s display counter, talking with Mandi. Time to get down to business.

Kevan stood in the combination office and privacy room the guys used for piercing and more intimate tattoo work, feeling like she'd been hit by a freight train. A six-and-a-half-foot-tall, all-bossy man-train named Mason Dillon, to be specific. How the h.e.l.l was she supposed to stay on track and keep her resolve when that kind of man candy was doing everything he could to sabotage her success? And why the h.e.l.l was he here of all places? Was he here to see her? More likely, he was there trying to get closer to the band members, despite his claim of innocence.

The thought of him getting to Manix behind her back flung her into the present and into action. She couldn't trust that man as far as she could throw him. After a moment to catch her breath and compose herself, Kevan marched into the front room and found Mason standing at the counter with Mandi, Jax, Marco, and Conner grouped around something in front of them. His deep voice rumbled loudly, but not loud enough for her to make out the words over the Butcher Babies song blaring over the sound system. There went her plan to eavesdrop without being too obvious.

Her circ.u.mstances dictated that Kevan had a choice to make. Either she was out of the loop and left to wonder what sketchy card Mason had tucked up his tailored sleeve. Or she was going to have to interject herself into the conversation without seeming nosy or awkward. Great. Now she was back to being the dorky kid that never quite fit in, having to perform the adult equivalent of "hey, guys, whatcha doing?" without actually seeming like that was exactly what she was doing.

Fanf.u.c.kingtastic.

"Hey, Kevan, come look at what Mason brought." Yeah. Saved by the pink-haired pixie. Mandi, a full-time college student at PSU, didn't work at Tatuaggio, but lived over the shop in an apartment she shared with her brother, Jax. They'd formed a bit of a bond over the last year, not quite friends, but definitely on the way there.

Kevan pasted on her biggest, brightest smile and sauntered up to the group, with her hips swinging and her head held high. She couldn't avoid the smirk pointed her way when Mason pushed the black, glossy, embossed folder across the counter.

"It's the proposed tour itinerary. Each folder contains details of the city, venue, as well as scheduled and potential promo opportunities." His eyes gleamed in triumph. Really? That's all he had-a pretty folder with maps and locations? Maybe he'd be easier to beat than she'd thought.

Mandi's grin split her face, and her eyes nearly sparkled with glee. "Check it out, Kevan," she said, flipping to a page t.i.tled "Sponsorship Opportunities."

Kevan scanned the page. Holy s.h.i.t. Mason already had the band scheduled to meet with several product sponsors. "Very impressive," she mumbled. And then her eyes settled on one line: Eugene, Oregon-National tour opportunities, Dan Carver 6 p.m.

Holy h.e.l.l. Mason had a meeting set for possible tour sponsors. She was totally screwed. Brushing her clammy palms down her jeans, she willed her jagged heartbeat to slow.

"I have a copy for you." The smirk had been replaced with "all-business" Mason as he handed her a similar folder with her name decorating the cover.

"Thanks. I a.s.sume you have an electronic copy. In fact, if you can email it to me, I'll append it to the one I sent to the band this morning. Sorry, I forgot your copy."

Mason's cool demeanor slipped. For barely a fraction of a second. But it was there. A tiny chip in his ice-cold armor. Maybe Mr. Perfect wasn't so perfect after all.

Before she had a chance to celebrate her brief victory, Mason handed her a thumb drive. "Of course."

He said good-bye to Conner, Jax, and Mandi, promising to see them the following morning, before he winked at Kevan, turned on his heel, and left. Leaving her standing there staring after him.

Chapter 9.

Tuesday morning, Mason was eager to get on the road, especially with one spicy, rockabilly hot tamale. Once he'd decided to move forward, he'd put his plans in motion, made the arrangements, and was impatient to test his marketing know-how. He had a company to save and a woman to seduce. And less than two weeks to get both done.

Bigger feats have been accomplished by lesser men. Right?

But would she show up? Although Joe had mentioned she was on board, Kevan hadn't confirmed or denied whether she was going when he'd seen her at the tattoo shop. Merely having the thought irked him. Either way, he'd end up with the band. And while there was no denying Kevan's magnetic allure, she was turning out to be quite the challenge-an emotional, clever, pa.s.sionate challenge.

He pulled up behind the tour bus and trailer as the band and their crew milled about the lot, bundled up against the crisp Northwest fall morning. Workers loaded equipment into the truck, and bags were packed into the cargo area of the bus. Despite the early hour and frigid temperature, the crew exchanged good-natured taunts as they worked, buzzing with a familiar energy. Something he hadn't felt since he'd signed his first act over ten years ago as an agent's intern.

Before today, he hadn't realized he'd missed this-the thrill of identifying a rising star, then formulating a plan for an artist who'd put their faith in him, put their career in his hands. Sure, Mason had a job to salvage, but he looked forward to recapturing some of his old enthusiasm.

Manix Curse was more than his ticket to keeping his job. They might also help him rediscover why the h.e.l.l he'd wanted to get into this business in the first place. The music. The excitement of watching a young band find itself and hit their stride. Maybe Kevan might be part of that too. Maybe her pa.s.sion for this band would rub off on him-reignite his zeal for the industry. Now, if he could just get her to forgive him for leaving-oh, and "stealing" Manix Curse.

Mason hopped out of his car and walked over to his rented RV to meet with the hired driver. Scanning through the chaos of people shuffling around, he spotted Kevan.

She was bent forward, reading over something with Jax and a heavily made-up pet.i.te woman in a very short skirt and the highest heels he'd ever seen. Kevan looked up and laughed at something Jax said. The garish woman scowled, but like Mason, Jax was riveted by Kevan's gregarious laugh. Jax lifted his hand, tattoos peeking out from his shirtsleeve, and pushed a dark blue lock of hair back behind Kevan's ear. Mason again felt a pull, an almost instantaneous draw to run over and rip Jax's hand from her face.

Okay, that was ridiculous. Where was this possessiveness coming from? Why was he suddenly upset when another man barely touched Kevan? For whatever reason, the action twisted his gut into knots and had him seeing through a fog of red.

d.a.m.n. He needed to get his s.h.i.t under control.

So instead of acting on his stupid impulse to pummel Jax-whom he actually kind of liked-into the cement, he forcibly spun and went to locate Joe and confirm the travel schedule.

By the time he returned, Kevan was standing in front of the band's bus, surrounded by her bags, gripping what looked like a fifties version of a laptop bag. Geez, even the woman's gadgets are retro.

He snuck up behind her and leaned over her shoulder. "You look perturbed, Ms. Landry. Something wrong?"

Fumbling her bag and almost dropping it, she spun to face him. "You mean other than you trying to hijack my band?"

"Your band? If they were your band, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

She shook her head, long dark waves of shiny hair brushing the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, making his breath catch in his chest. "Wow, for a second I almost forgot you're a total d.i.c.k. Thanks for the reminder."

"Ouch. You wound me, Bettie." He leaned down and whispered, "How about I show you what I can do with my d.i.c.k?"

Planting her palms against his chest, she pushed him away. "Been there, done that. And then you ran off, remember? Speaking of running, why don't you run along to your pimped-out motor home thing over there, Mr. Fancy Pants."

"Well, actually, since you asked..."

"I didn't."

"I rented the RV and hired a driver, because according to Joe, the tour bus is short on s.p.a.ce."

She placed a hand on her hip and c.o.c.ked her head. "So?"

"So there's room for you too." He smiled. Hopefully not in a creepy, lascivious way. Well, not too lasciviously, anyway, since he was shooting for s.e.xy.

"On your RV? You've got to be kidding me," she hissed and turned away. "No, thank you. I told you, no funny business."

"Did you really just say 'funny business' in reference to our f.u.c.king?" Mason's chuckle quickly transformed into an all-out belly laugh. G.o.d, she is adorable. "Geez, woman, what are you, eighty?"

She rushed up to confront him, the ruddy flush of her checks making her skin glow. "Stop talking about the other night. And don't make fun."

"You mentioned it. Or am I the only one not allowed to talk about the night we b.u.mped uglies?" He said it before he had a chance to filter himself, not quite sure why he was trying to rile her up.

"Are you for real? You may dress in a fancy grown-up suit, but you're a pig boy like the rest of them," she said, her voice rising.

"Look, sweetheart, there's no room on their bus, and I have plenty on mine. And a driver. You'll have your own s.p.a.ce to sleep and your own place to work," he said.

She looked skeptical but didn't walk away.

He continued, "I won't touch you. I won't do anything to you." He paused and lowered his voice. "Until you beg me to."

"As if. I will never beg you for anything." She snorted, but her eyes dilated, and her breath caught. She wasn't completely unaffected by his overtures.

"We'll see about that." G.o.d, she was so cute and feisty.

The small blond woman from earlier strutted up to them and hip-checked Kevan, but her eyes brushed over him without bothering to hide her interest. "Aren't you going to introduce me to Mr. Dillon?"

"Mason, this is Tina Blalock," Kevan said and flashed him a withering look.

"Kevan's former a.s.sistant." Tina thrust out her hand, her long, glittery nails like talons, her eyes darting to Kevan before looking back at him. "Charmed, Mason. I've heard so much about you."

"You have?" Mason's eyebrows arched as he shook her hand. So maybe Kevan had been kissing and telling with her a.s.sistant friend. "Like what?"

"Nothing from me," Kevan said and then addressed Tina. "Thanks for dropping by the media list for the Redding event. You didn't have do that...and I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, sure. No problem," she said, still eyeing Mason.

With a terse "Thanks" and a quick shake of her head, Kevan grabbed two of her suitcases and struggled up the steps of the band's tour bus.

Mason had a.s.sumed she would be excited to have an option other than the worn and torn, possibly radioactive, tour bus. Unless she wanted to be on the bus to be closer to Jax. Or maybe she wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Mason planned to untangle that little puzzle right away. So far, all of his a.s.sumptions about her had been wrong.

Tina brushed up against his side and shivered, reminding him of a wet Chihuahua. He'd forgotten she was still there. "Brrr. It's cold out here." She looked up and actually batted her eyelashes.

Man, this chick was b.a.l.l.sy. Mason didn't care for anyone invading his personal s.p.a.ce without an invitation. "I need to make sure we're all set to get on the road. It was a pleasure meeting you."

She grabbed his arm and leaned up to whisper loudly, "You know, Kevan let me go. I'm an awesome a.s.sistant and have a lot of insight into the band and their market."

Was she offering to work for him? Right here with her former boss less than a hundred feet away?

He extricated himself from her grasp. "I'm sure you're very skilled; however, Kevan and I have a deal."

"What deal?" she asked, reaching for his hand.

Tugging out of her surprisingly strong grip, he looked around the lot for his driver. "Ask her. Now if you don't mind-"

"Oh, I don't mind. And I already have several good opportunities, so you might miss your chance," she said, not bothering to look offended.

"I can live with that. Now we need to get on the road."

"Whatever. If you change your mind, you can always ask Kevan for my number." Then Tina twirled and strode off to her car, leaving Mason agitated.

Finally locating his driver across the active lot, he started toward him, but before he could take more than a few strides, Kevan called his name. He turned, brow raised, to see her standing in the doorway of the band's bus at the top of the retractable steps, a determined look on her face.

Dragging one bag behind her and shoving another down the steps, she made quite a picture, her hair wild and her nose scrunched up. She was the ant.i.thesis of Tina, who was all angles and innuendo. And, apparently, the conditions on the tour bus didn't meet Kevan's delicate standards. Aw, too bad.

"The bus is full."

"Is it now?"

"Apparently, Joe's decided to go with the band on the bus instead of in his own vehicle."

"Oh really." He didn't bother mentioning it was at his suggestion that Joe keep a closer eye on his band and start working on their media training during travel times.

"I guess he wants to keep a tighter rein on them."

Mason crossed his arms over his chest and nodded.

"And it stinks." She wrinkled her nose.

He smiled. He couldn't help himself. "Offer still stands, unless you're planning on driving your car all the way down the coast?" Mason tried not to hold his breath as he watched the different emotions roll over her expressive face. Come on, you know you wanna say yes.

She gave him a long, calculating look, her deep sigh accentuated by the frosty burst of air accompanying it. "Yes."

He ignored the look of disappointment on her face and maintained his cool indifference. He wasn't going to make this too easy for her.

"Yes, what, darlin'?"

"Yes, I will share your RV for the tour. Happy?" she asked. He nodded, trying not to look too smug. "We may be shacking up together, but the terms of our deal still stand."