Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll (10 page)

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. Maybe
she should’ve worked the marriage question into her interview.
Reality came back to slap her in the head. What interview? She’d
agreed to accompany Hawke without asking one single question. Her
newly-adopted
don’t ask, just do
policy screamed in
hysterical laughter.

After a quick embrace, the woman stepped back
from Hawke and stuck out her hand. “Oh God, I’m sorry,” she said,
tucking a piece of hair behind one ear. “I’m Francie, the kids’
mother. You must be Rachel.”

Hawke told Francie about her? Rachel
swallowed hard and made a quick decision. She’d be diplomatic but
she needed specifics about this whole arrangement. Since her voice
had obviously decided to play hide-and-seek, she simply nodded.

“Come on in the kitchen.” Francie turned and
they followed her into an enormous, brightly lit room. Rachel
glanced at the table on one side, which her architectural eye told
her was mahogany. It appeared to be freshly polished and the
centerpiece, a beautiful tea pot that was most likely sterling
silver, would make Cameron drool. No doubt about it, the woman had
taste.

Francie motioned them to sit at the table and
then grabbed a book from the counter before joining them.

Rachel laid a hand on Hawke’s forearm. “Why
don’t I go see what Max and the boys are up to?”

“No, stay,” Hawke insisted.

“This sounds personal, Hawke. I—”

“Please.”

Rachel couldn’t resist the blatant sincerity
in his deep, dark eyes. “Okay.”

Francie giggled. “Didn’t think I’d ever see
this.”

Rachel felt her cheeks heat. Although
somewhat embarrassed, she felt a pinch of satisfaction. If nothing
else, Francie knew Hawke wanted Rachel there next to him.

“We need to discuss visitation,” Hawke told
Francie.

Rachel’s eyebrows climbed her forehead.
Visitation?
Ohgawdohgawdohgawd.
They weren’t even divorced
yet. She made a quick lurch to stand, caught her heel on the chair
in the process, and stumbled into Hawke.

Hawke grasped her elbow to steady her.
“Rachel, where are you going?”

“This is certainly a conversation I do not
need to be a part of.” She forced out the words as calmly as
possible.

Hawke’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

Rachel took a deep, steady breath. “This is
between you and Francine.”

For a brief second, the only noise in the
room was the ticking of the kitchen clock. Then Francine burst into
laughter.

“Oh, Hawke, you idiot! She thinks we’re
married!”

Rachel’s eyes grew wide once again as she
glanced at Francine. “You’re not?” Oh great, open mouth, insert
foot. “I’m sorry for my assumption. More than 70% of couples live
together rather than marry, but still, this is between the two of
you.”

Francine giggled. “She’s very intelligent,
Hawke.”

Hawke grabbed Rachel’s hand and pulled her
back into her chair. “Francie and I aren’t married, Rachel. We
don’t live together, and we’ve never been a couple.”

“But she said she’s the boys’ mother.”

“I’m the house mother.” Francie gave Hawke a
stern look. “You didn’t tell her?”

“No,” Hawke mumbled.

“I run this home for kids who are about to be
adopted,” Francine explained. “Once they leave the state’s custody,
they live here until the adoption process can be finalized. Hawke
is a gracious benefactor who apparently doesn’t have any
brains.”

Relief surrounded Rachel like a warm
blanket.

“Hawke provides a scholarship for their
education,” Francie continued. “In return, he insists on visiting
the kids regularly once they are settled in their new homes.”

Rachel stole a glance at Hawke. He gave her a
weak smile. “We have more fun if I keep my visits quiet.”

Bursts of laughter and machine gun fire
floated down the hallway.

“Quiet is not part of the vocabulary around
here,” Francine mumbled.

Hawke cleared his throat. “Did the Moralez’s
sign the contract?”

Francine flipped open her book. “Yes,
everything’s in order. Antonio and Romeo are pumped about the whole
thing.”

Rachel smiled at Francine with a newfound
respect. This woman she really liked. She had energy, spunk, and
better yet, obviously kept Hawke’s head out of the clouds.

Francine nudged Rachel’s elbow. “Do you play
video games?”

Rachel chuckled. “No, coloring book and
sketch pads are more my thing.”

“Good.” Francine motioned at Hawke with one
hand. “Go play. Rachel and I will be in here if you need
anything.”

Hawke’s gaze bounced from one woman to the
other and Rachel fought the urge to giggle. “Go, Hawke, she
prompted.

As if her consent was all he needed, he left
the kitchen with a sexy smirk.

Spending the remainder of the afternoon
talking with Francine and watching Hawke’s interaction with the
boys gave Rachel a whole new look into the man inside Jaydon Hawke.
She found he was genuinely concerned about Antonio and Romeo, and
at the same time they treated him as a big brother. There were no
rock stars present today. No smoke and mirrors, just Hawke, rolling
around on the floor, shooting creatures with his video game
controller, basking in fun. So not what she expected.

In fact, when she and Hawke were seated back
on the plane, she was almost disappointed. She wondered if he would
retreat back into his familiar rock star persona.

“Did you have fun?” Hawke asked as the plane
flew across the sky in the evening sun.

Rachel nodded. “I did. Francine reminds me a
lot of Cameron.”

Hawke snickered. “You think? I have a feeling
Cameron is one in a million.”

Rachel leaned back in her seat as the plane
gave a slight bounce. Desperate to keep herself distracted, she
rolled her head toward him. “Hawke, why didn’t you tell me where we
were going?”

“Honestly, I didn’t even think about it.
Things are so hush-hush when I travel.”

She nodded, a little guilty for asking. She’d
been so focused on his desire to remain in the spotlight that she
didn’t even stop to think that secrecy was second nature to
him.

“Besides,” he said with a grin, “I wanted to
surprise you.”

“You did.”

“And?”

And now I’m really going to have to
practice restraint
. Rachel cleared her throat. “And what?”

His grin slipped and she saw something close
to disappointment flash in the depths of his eyes. Then, just as
quickly, it disappeared.

“I’m going back next week. Come with me.”

Unbelievably tempted, Rachel stopped herself
from a hasty response. If she agreed, she became one of those
women. The ones who catered to his every desire.

And lost her identity in the process.

Cameron’s plan for Rachel to have fun with
Hawke would have to be altered just a bit.

“I’m sorry, Hawke, I’m booked solid next
week.” Which was the truth.

He frowned. “Every day?”

She nodded and prepared for an argument.
Instead, he seemed to accept her excuse and settled back against
his seat. He laid his hand on the arm rest, palm up, and raised an
eyebrow. She gave him a smile and rested her hand in his.

“Maybe another time,” he said into the
silence.

“Maybe,” she agreed.

After a long, sleepless night of trying to
make sense of Rachel’s reluctance, Hawke was tired and pissed off.
Damn that woman. Why was she so stubborn?

His feet felt heavy as he paced the floor.
Even after their trip to Sacramento, she refused to open up. And it
was his own damn fault. Never in his life did he expect his cover
to come back and bite him in the ass. Most women would kill for an
opportunity to be seen next to him. But then, Rachel wasn’t most
women.

He needed a new game plan. He stopped pacing
in mid-step, almost frozen in place by his next thought. Cameron. A
fleeting sense of fear wiggled up his spine. It was risky,
confiding in Cameron, but the result may be worth the pain. But did
he have balls enough to call her? No. Instead, he’d delegate. He
punched the speed dial on his cell phone.

“Greg, call Cameron Tremaine and tell her
meet me here in an hour.”

Hawke heard a dull thud across the line.
“Don’t you think I should ask her?”

Not in the mood to argue, Hawke released a
frustrated breath. “Just call her.”

“You’re sure about meeting her alone?”

“Positive.” Hawke hung up to avoid any
further discussion.

He exhaled loudly while he resumed his
earlier pace. This better work. Mainly because he’d never had to
work so hard for female attention in his life. And once again, he
didn’t have a back-up plan.

***

Thirty minutes later, Max cringed as the
heat-seeking missile dressed in designer clothing descended on him
without warning and attempted to breeze past with a sexy wink. He
extended an arm and grasped her elbow to bring her to an abrupt
stop.

“Hold on there a second, sex kitten.”

Her eyes pierced him like daggers. “Sex
kitten?”

He gave her a lazy smile in response.

“In case you’ve forgotten, my name is
Cameron.” She sighed impatiently and glanced at her elbow. “Now,
unhand me. I have a meeting with Hawke.”

Max chuckled at her haughty tone and led her
away from the elevator. “No one told me.”

“Hawke is expecting me,” she insisted through
gritted teeth. She struggled to free herself from his iron grip as
he pulled her further down the hall.

“If I had a dollar for every time a pretty
face claimed Hawke expected her, I’d be a rich man.”

“Listen, Neanderthal,” she screeched as she
spun out of his grasp, “I bruise easily!”

Max looked down at her pale skin and loosened
his hold. He knew damn well he wasn’t hurting her, but just to keep
the peace, he’d humor her. This time.

“It’s Max, and I don’t bully beautiful
women.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She cut her eyes at him
and rubbed her elbow.

“Stand right here.” He stabbed numbers on his
cell phone. A few short words later, he disconnected.

“You’re late. Hawke expected you an hour
ago.”

She stuck out her tongue.

Max shifted his weight and for a split second
considered shoving the pink temptation back in her mouth with his
own tongue. Instead, he fueled the fire. “You can go up after you
do one thing.”

She squinted. “What’s that?”

“Rub my head. For luck.”

Her eyes widened. “You are absolutely out of
your mind!” she squealed.

Possibly. Max shrugged and leaned against the
elevator door. “Either that or show me the goods.”

The she-devil in a blood-red short skirt
appeared to study him intently for a minute, as if weighing her
options. He knew she wouldn’t back down from his challenge. And
that made him hard. Crazy hard.

Finally, with a look that would make a
centerfold seem innocent, she closed the distance between them. Her
tender touch burnt his skin as she walked her fingertips up his
biceps, raised a small, delicate arm, and caressed the neatly
polished surface on top of his head.

Gee-zus. A man of his word, Max pushed
himself off the door and motioned for her to board the elevator. He
swallowed hard and hoped to hell she wouldn’t notice how hard she
made him. She gave him an unladylike snort as he followed her
inside the open doors.

Eternally thankful their short ride was
silent, he delivered her to Hawke’s suite and made a quick exit. A
little of her went a long way and he planned to take that up with
Hawke later. Just not now. He needed a break. A long one.

Cameron stormed through the door of Hawke’s
suite, her blonde curls bouncing with each step.

“Hawke, you better tell that bouncer down
there to keep his hands to himself.” She tossed her zebra-print
purse to the couch. “I only flashed him to get backstage, not as an
invitation.”

Hawke grinned. According to Max, she had
quite a way with invitations.

“What took you so long?”

Cameron shrugged matter-of-factly. “Patience
builds character, Hawke. Besides, I’m on my own time.”

He sighed. She wasn’t going to make this
easy.

“Now,” she continued, plopping down on the
couch, “to what do I owe the privilege of this visit?”

He winced. “I need your help.”

She batted her eyelashes. “Rachel?”

“How’d you know?”

“Honestly, Hawke,” she scoffed, “you’re not
the first adventurer to attempt to conquer Mt. Rachel.”

“I don’t want to conquer her, Cameron. I just
want a chance to get to know her.”

She squinted at him. “I just might be able to
help you,” she began, raising his spirits, “on one condition.”

Damn. He probably should’ve expected this.
“What’s that?”

“I want your drummer.”

“Pirelli?”

“Yes, Pirelli. On a platter.”

“I can’t just hand him to you, Cameron.”

“No,” she agreed, “but you can arrange a
private meeting.”

Hawke gave himself a mental pat on the back.
She had no idea how easy that would be. Petite, flamboyant, busty
blondes with baby blue eyes were exactly what Pirelli ordered. Not
information she needed to know.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Great! What do you want me to do?”

“Clear her schedule, except for me.”

Cameron studied her nails as if bored with
the whole idea. “Rachel keeps her own schedule.”

“And Pirelli just might have a girlfriend,”
he countered.

She laughed and bounced off the couch. “I’ll
hand it to you, Hawke, you have exceptional bluffing skills.”

“I’m not bluffing.”

She threw her purse back over her shoulder.
“Yes you are. But I’ll help you anyway.”

She walked to the door and paused with her
hand on the doorknob. “By the way, I’m free every night this
week.”