A Little Night Music (4 page)

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said.

“So am I,” she purred, and finally let go of his hand. He still felt the tingle of her sharp caress on his palm. And it had shot all the way to his cock, leaving him uncomfortable and suddenly looking forward to what he’d previously expected to be a boring dinner.

“Sam sent me to fetch you,” Hannah said, and the thought of being fetched by her sounded amazingly kinky, the way she said it.

Nate spread his hands. “I’m at your mercy.” He wondered if she knew how much he meant it. Nate picked up his jacket and gestured for her to precede him out the door.

Which he did not only out of politeness, but also because it provided him with a fine view of her ass.

*

The sway of Hannah’s hips masked the shaking of her knees. Dear lord, he was flirting with her. She hadn’t expected that to happen quite so fast. Was he like this with every woman?

Then she decided that it didn’t matter. He was flirting with her, and she was going to take every advantage of it. The fact that he showed an interest would make her goal that much easier to attain. She would tease him into insanity, make him long for her the way she’d always wanted him. Then, after she’d repaired his image and got him back into the realm of rock gods, she would have him.
After
her job was done. She’d better keep reminding herself of that.

Still, the fact that he showed such a strong interest—as evidenced by the clear outline of his thickening cock against the line of his pants—thrilled her to the core.

It was all she could do not to touch him in the elevator. Nate dominated the small space, filling it with his warmth and deep earthy scent. Her heels brought her closer to his height, but there was something about him that made her feel petite, delicate. She felt the pull of him, felt it down deep inside where it made her blood rush. And he did it all without even trying. He just leaned casually against the wall, making the silk of his shirt stretch against his chest, widening the vee above the buttons at the top. Blue eyes edging into black watched her with an intensity that made her very aware of herself as a woman.

The sweat on his neck looked very enticing. Hannah wanted to run her tongue along it. His black leather pants laced up the front, and she ached to unlace them with her teeth. She wanted to hear his reaction to that. But she behaved. There would be time enough to seduce him, even if she had to wait. She’d waited all these years. She understood patience. Hannah smiled at that, feeling a great sense of satisfaction when Nate’s gaze went to her mouth.

The elevator seemed to be heating up. If there had been mirrored tiles on the walls, Hannah was sure they’d be steamed. Of course, she might not have been able to keep her hands to herself if they had been. The urge to see herself wrapped around his semi-naked body would have been too much to resist.

His reaction to her now more than made up for his reaction all those years ago at the bottom of her stairs. If he’d looked at her then like he wanted to push her up against the wall and bury himself inside of her, she wouldn’t have had a clue what to do.

Now she’d have no problem thinking of a response.

The elevator jerked to a halt, the doors hissing open. Nate straightened, pushing one hand through his hair, disheveling the already tousled strands. He gave her a smile that made her thong damp, and then followed her into the foyer where Sam was waiting for them.

Hannah smiled at Sam when they joined him. She had to pull herself together. Had to stop mentally peeling the clothes off of Nate and urging him to touch her.

She was a professional. She could do this.

*

Sam had made reservations for them at a Japanese place, one of Nate’s favorites. Gina walked in while Sam was speaking to the hostess. She gave Nate a slow once over and then greeted Hannah with a hug, pausing long enough to whisper, “He’s hot!”

Oh yeah, Hannah thought. And he was going to be hers.

She introduced her friend to Nate and Sam, and then the solemn hostess led them to a private room, separated from the main area by sliding shoji screens. An American-style table surrounded by four chairs was a concession to the clientele, but it was decorated by a simple spray of blossoms in a pottery bowl, an arrangement displaying the traditional feeling of
shebui
. Hannah found herself at one corner of the table, with Nate just around the corner.

Oh yes. Perfect.

He seemed pleased by the arrangement, too. He held out her chair for her, and afterwards let his hand trail along her shoulder before he sat down. When he did, his leg brushed against hers beneath the table, the contact lingering for a moment. She sensed he was still close, an inch from her.

The gentle notes of a samisen fell into their initial silence, joined by the haunting tones of a wooden flute as they perused their menus. Hannah found the music somewhat wistful, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The server poured green tea into fragile porcelain bowls for them, and the fragrance joined the assault on her senses.

She had to remember the plan. The job came first, and then she would be free to seduce Nate Fox.

She darted a glance at him, and found him looking back at her. A smile quirked his mouth, only for her, and heat pooled at the juncture of her thighs. Maybe the plan needed to be rethought. Maybe she’d do a better job working with him if she weren’t so tuned to his body. Get the lust out of the way, then settle down to business. It was so hard to concentrate when every nerve in her body hummed with awareness.

The petite server, dressed in a pale rose kimono, took their orders. Gina and Sam ordered teriyaki. Hannah rolled her eyes, called them wimps, and ordered sushi. Nate followed suit, obviously knowledgeable about the cuisine.

“One of the things I love about San Francisco is the fresh seafood,” he said. “I miss that when I’m on the road.”

“It must be tough, being away from home so many days out of the year,” Gina said.

“It can get tiring,” Nate agreed. “Sometimes it’s a struggle to keep up the energy and enthusiasm.”

It was an obvious reference to his past drug use. Was it also a warning that he was afraid he would succumb again?

It wasn’t her job to be his therapist or his mother. It was her job to make him look good, no matter what. She’d dealt with this before, with clients who were determined to destroy themselves. She’d hated every damn second of it: of watching them fuck up, again and again; of struggling to find some way to downplay it or hide it or make some big commotion over here to distract everyone from it.

Early in her career, when she worked for a label, one of the artists had OD’d, found with the rubber strap still digging into his flesh and the needle still in his hand. He hadn’t been her client, but she’d helped with his campaign.

She closed her eyes. If Nate was headed in that direction, maybe it was better to leave him as her teenage fantasy, as a poster on her wall. Just do what she’d been hired to do, and if he imploded, she’d just move on to the next job.

But when she opened her eyes again, he was watching, and she had the sense that he knew what she’d been thinking. She shivered under his gaze.

 “I imagine touring has its perks as well,” she said, making an effort to lighten the mood.

“Room service,” he said with a slow smile, his eyes never leaving hers.

The words conjured up a specific image: Nate, naked and sleep-tousled, groping for the phone to order up morning coffee and croissants. Hannah ran her tongue along her lower lip again.

“Yes, there’s definitely something to be said for someone bringing you breakfast in bed after a long, hard night,” she said, and took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes teasing him over the bowl’s rim.

“My parents and I did some traveling when I was young, and I loved it,” Gina said. “Europe was spectacular. I’d love to go back.”

“It’s certainly more interesting than Bays Junction, Wisconsin, or Sutters Fork, Kansas,” Nate said. “I spend a lot of time in places like that—although I think I spend even more time on the tour bus.”

“The thrilling life of a rock star,” Hannah said with a laugh. “What about the image of the fancy hotels, the parties, the champagne luxury? Don’t burst our bubble.”

“The beds in the tour bus, the tiny bathroom, no privacy,” Nate put in. The laughter in his eyes told her he was teasing her now, understanding her worry and trying to get a rise out of her.

Hannah had fantasized enough over the years about a narrow, intimate bunk on the bus, the swaying motion of the moving vehicle urging them closer…. She swallowed hard, struggling to maintain a professional demeanor. Throwing him onto the table and ripping open his shirt was not the image she was going for.

“Funny you should mention that,” Sam said, the upwards quirk of one eyebrow showing he wasn’t oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation. His porcelain chopsticks clattered faintly as he played with them, his fingers constantly moving. “I hope you’re comfortable with the idea of being on a tour bus with a bunch of male musicians.”

“Isn’t that every woman’s fantasy?” Gina asked. Her raised eyebrows told Hannah that she was well aware of what Hannah had been fantasizing about. “Having a bunch of rock stars all to yourself…”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Hannah assured Sam. She was just not going to look at Gina again. Nope. “We’re all professionals.”

“I’m not so sure it’s a good idea,” Nate said. She heard his reluctance, saw the look he shot Sam.

“It’s part of the game,” Hannah said. She looked at him, her eyes lingering on the lean planes of his face. His mouth was sensually sculpted, the bottom lip just a little fuller. Yum. “I can put out a thousand press releases that tell the world you’re back on top, but they’re all just words—let’s
show
everyone. I can do that best by being right there, ready to put the spin on everything that happens.”

“Everything?” he asked softly. His eyes glittered with a look that was just for her. Oh my, the man knew how to flirt.

She found herself getting excited by the prospect of going on tour with the band, and not just by Nate’s proximity and those enticing leather pants. “Think of it as your opportunity to redesign your image. I’ll be there to guide the publicity in the direction you want it to go. Show how this tour’s not like the excesses of the past, how you’re no longer the type to get high and throw TVs through the window or have a string of groupies lined up outside your hotel room door.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes.

“Well, we’ll have to negotiate about the groupies.” Hannah’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. She didn’t want to think about the groupies. Fact was, they had little or nothing to do with Nate’s former drug habit. If he wanted to flaunt them, that was his decision.

She just knew she couldn’t compete with the skinny, barely dressed types that followed rock stars around. Much less the gorgeous starlets and supermodels he’d been seen with in the past.

“So, you tell me,” Hannah said. “What’s the image that you want to portray?”

 “What do you think?” he asked. His eyes challenged her to answer.

Her head tipped to one side while she considered. “I think there’s a difference between how you want to be seen and what the public expects to see. If it’s a primarily male demographic, then the groupies and the parties lets the boys fantasize about the perks of being a rock star. A little T&A always boosts sales. But if we’re marketing more towards your female fans, that’s not what they want to see. They want the fantasy that they might be the one you pluck out of the crowd, the fan in the fourteenth row who gets noticed.”

 “So the possibility is that some fans get to…meet me…might fuel
their
fantasies,” Nate said.

 “Do you want to be someone’s fantasy?” she asked, realizing too late that he might see it as a come-on. She felt her cheeks flush.

 “Speaking as a woman as well as a visual artist, I’d say there’s a fine line,” Gina said, smoothly filling in what might have become an awkward silence. “Capitalizing on a female fan’s fantasies is good, but too much of a bad boy, the sense that they just wouldn’t be able to hold on to you, is too much. They’ll feel inadequate.”

Hannah sent a mental note of relieved thanks in Gina’s direction for filling the void Hannah’s temporary panic had left.

“Gina’s right,” she said. “The bottom line is that the music is what ties it all together. We feed the fantasies of both sides: the bad boy rock star who walks a little on the wild side, and the dark, brooding musician who can be caught and tamed. But it’s your music that spans both of those visions. And your music has always been your real love, not the fame or lifestyle. Am I right?”

He nodded.

“Then we need to show that. We need to show that you’re clean again, that the wildness of your past is gone, but not completely destroy the mystique of the musician’s life. We want the men to want to be like you, and the women to want you.”

There was respect in his eyes. The sudden realization that he appreciated her business sense was more of a turn-on that she would have thought possible. It shocked her.

“So what do you think, Nate?” Sam broke in. “Hannah’s right about the positive look at a drug-free but still exciting life on the road. You can be the bad boy that your fans expect, while showing them that you take your music seriously. Your fans will find you hot
and
inspirational. It’s a winner of a publicity concept.”

“It’s an interesting idea,” Nate conceded.

Hannah, however, wasn’t finished. “No matter what you decide, Nate, there’s one thing that we have to be completely clear on. You need to be one-hundred-percent honest with me. I need to know what you’re thinking, what you’re doing, and what you’re going to say. There can’t be any surprises, or I won’t be able to do the job you expect.”

He started to speak, but she held up one hand, stopping him.

“I know you’re clean now, but I’ve seen a lot in this business and I know that the pressures will pile up. If you feel the need for a pick-me-up, I want to know. If you get drunk and pass out in an alley, I want to know about it before the press does. And if you stay sober, I need to know that too. I can’t work for you if I don’t know what I’m going to get hit with.”