Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll (2 page)

“Later,” Rachel mumbled.

She redirected her gaze back to Hawke with
every intention of moving her hands. But when scalding heat burnt
the distance between them, she lost all good sense. For one split
lust-filled second, she actually considered slipping her hands
inside to play.

Good Lord
.

“You’re good to go,” she managed to say. “Be
careful zipping up.”

He glanced down between his legs. “Watch your
fingers.”

Rachel gasped and dropped her hands as she
stood.

He tucked himself deep within his pants and
zipped without incident before he extended a hand. “Jaydon
Hawke.”

Rachel tilted her head to one side and slid
her hand inside his, momentarily at a loss for words. What exactly
was she supposed to say to the man whose anatomy she literally held
in her hands?

A shiver of awareness tickled her neck as he
stroked the back of her knuckles with his thumb. “I’ll have
security bring you back after the show. I owe you something.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, amused that he
would offer such a thing. Little did he know, she didn’t need a
security escort. After all, she had done just fine by herself.

She extracted her hand from his hold and
pasted a polite smile on her face. “That’s really not
necessary.”

Cameron cleared her throat and Hawke raised
an eyebrow. Apparently, neither Cameron nor he thought her serious.
Rachel bit her lip to keep from screaming. She was as serious as
the heart attack she was sure to experience in the next few seconds
if her pounding heart didn’t slow its pace.

Hawke’s expression turned from one of
confidence to one of utter confusion, but the arrival of a familiar
face interrupted any further discussion. Rachel took a deep breath
to calm her trembling nerves as the bouncer from the gate glanced
at her, then Cameron, then at Hawke.

“Everything alright back here?”

“Fine, Max,” Hawke answered.

Max gestured at Cameron with his head. “What
about her?”

Rachel turned to look at Cameron, silently
pleading for her to release her usual quick retort. Cameron, the
traitor, just raised her eyebrows and grinned.

Determined to remain composed, Rachel glanced
at Max. “I’ll get some water.”

Max nodded. “Wait here. I’ll take you girls
back out as soon as Hawke’s on stage.”

As soon as the order left Max’s mouth, Rachel
knew Cameron’s sass couldn’t resist.

“I’m sure we can find the skybox.” Cameron
folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the side.
“Since it’s the only section hanging from the ceiling, it shouldn’t
be hard to locate.”

Both the bouncer and Hawke stood silent for a
moment and Rachel prepared herself for the worst. Instead, Hawke
gave her one last mouth-watering smile before he turned and started
toward the stage, granting her a bird’s eye view of his backside in
the process. No wonder groupies fell at his feet. She, however, was
no groupie.

“Thanks again,” he said over his
shoulder.

“Any time,” she muttered.

Wiping her trembling hands on her skirt,
Rachel attempted to regulate her breathing while she offered
Cameron a hand. “Are you crazy? He’s ten times your size!”

Cameron only shrugged as she took Rachel’s
hand and stood. “Spill.”

“You passed out.” Rachel gave her
balls-of-steel best friend a smug grin. “You blew your big chance.
And after you flashed your goodies too.”

Cameron gave her a devilish look. “I’ll buy
that explanation. But, what exactly did you and Mr. Hawke do while
I was out?”

Rachel hesitated, not quite sure how long
Cameron had been awake or what she saw.

“His zipper was stuck.”

Cameron’s eyes flashed. “That was an awfully
quick explanation.” Rachel could only stare open-mouthed, but
Cameron apparently didn’t expect further elaboration. “Maybe you
don’t need to relax as much as I thought.”

Rachel’s head spun in relief. “Maybe.” She
poked her hair behind her ears and nudged Cameron toward the exit.
“C’mon, the show is about to start.”

Cameron smirked. “Think we can find our seats
without the hired muscle?”

“I’m not waiting for him, Cameron,” Rachel
growled. “I’ve already been humiliated enough for one evening.”

Cameron stopped and grasped Rachel’s shoulder
for support while she bent to adjust the strap on her sandal. “Two
more minutes. Then we’ll be tucked in the skybox, safely behind
tinted glass, enjoying the show.”

Rachel glanced toward the stage and wondered
if Cameron would flip out if she suggested they call it a night and
go home. “Are you sure you feel okay?”

Cameron looped an arm through Rachel’s and
closed the distance to the exit. “Of course. Do you?”

Rachel tossed Cameron’s question through her
brain. Physically she was fine. Her heart had resumed its regular
cadence and her hands had finally stopped shaking. Mentally,
though, the jury was still out.

“I’m fine,” she said finally.

Cameron giggled and bumped her with one hip.
“Hawke’s fine, huh?”

Rachel’s body warmed. Fine? No, more like
smoking hot. Luscious. Lollipop lickable.

Cameron cleared her throat.

Rachel shook herself free from thoughts of
wild, sweaty sex and wrinkled sheets. “He’s okay,” she answered.
“Just not my type.”

“Yeah, right.” Cameron paused just outside
the door to the skybox and glanced at the electric eye. “Damn.”

“What?”

“Macho man has my pass.”

Rachel shook her head. The only way inside
was to scan the pass. “Wonderful. And he has no idea who we
are.”

Cameron braced one hip against the door and
checked the gold watch on her wrist.

Rachel fought herself from shaking Cameron
like a rag doll. “So what now, Cameron?”

“We wait.”

“For what?”

“Rachel, we just exposed ourselves to Jaydon
Hawke’s bodyguard.”

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t
remind me.”

“Believe me,” Cameron continued, “the
watchdog knows exactly who and where we are. We would’ve never been
passed through the gate if he didn’t.”

Rachel didn’t even want to know the specifics
of Cameron’s logic and she was past the point of argument. “Let’s
just leave.”

“What? No!” Cameron pushed herself off the
door and took Rachel’s hands. “Look, the whole purpose of this
evening was to break you out of your shell. Have you changed your
mind?”

Rachel took one look at Cameron’s sparkling
blue eyes and knew she couldn’t lie. “No.”

“Admit it, you’ve had fun.”

Rachel gave Cameron’s hands a squeeze and
then dropped them. “Okay, it has been fun.”

“Then relax, we’ll get in there.”

“Yes, but Cameron, my reputation—”

“Will not suffer from being here. You work
with people of Hawke’s caliber all the time.”

“True, except I don’t flash them.”

Cameron giggled and rolled her eyes. “No one
except me and the guard know about that.”

Rachel couldn’t stop the smile that split her
lips. “Can you believe it?”

Cameron nodded. “I knew you had it in you.”
She gestured down the hall. “Here comes the cavalry.”

“The big guy?”

Cameron grinned. “No, an usher. And this
time, hold on to the pass.”

Hawke waved to the sold-out auditorium one
last time before he stepped off stage and into the corridor. Only
this time, a pack of hungry women swarmed him like angry bees,
stingers poised and ready to attack. Hawke noticed a fiery redhead
in the front wearing a short leather skirt, her exposed cleavage
winking an invitation. He grinned. Some things made this chaos all
worthwhile.

“You want her?”

Hawke glanced at his security manager. He
wouldn’t even have to ask twice. And he knew all too well she
wouldn’t hesitate to oblige. “Not tonight, Max.”

Hawke waited for Max to ask why. Instead,
Max’s expression remained blank and he wedged himself between Hawke
and the buzzing mob.

Hawke looked back toward the entrance. “So,
where are the girls?”

Max pushed a wayward, slender, almost-nude
body back behind him. “Not enough attention for one night?”

Hawke snickered as he and Max made their way
down the hall toward Hawke’s dressing room. “You know who I
mean.”

“Blonde and busty?”

“Yeah, her and the one with killer green
eyes.”

Max stopped, tossed a look over his shoulder
and then raised an eyebrow. “You noticed her eyes? Over her
rack?”

Hawke allowed a slow grin to separate his
lips. Obviously, they both agreed photographs didn’t do the two
women justice. No, he didn’t notice her eyes first. In fact, with
her positioned directly below his line of vision, not to mention
kneeling between his legs, he really hadn’t cared if her eyes were
even open. Her breasts were perfect, probably a C cup from his best
guess, and free from the constraint of a bra. Firm and plump with
peaked, rosy-pink nipples. Wild, carnal thoughts of ripping the
zipper completely out of his pants and thrusting his aching, needy
cock in the valley of her cleavage had almost pushed him over the
edge.

And then she lifted her gaze and he found
himself drowned in a sea of sparkling green emeralds. Not that he
wasn’t still distracted by her breasts, but those eyes trapped him.
Full of curiosity with a touch of dare me thrown in.

No way would he explain that to Max.

“I noticed that too.”

Max hesitated just a second and Hawke felt
the silent consideration of his half-assed admission. “She declined
your invitation.”

A piercing stab of disbelief sliced Hawke’s
thoughts. “Why?”

Max shrugged. “Something about ruining her
reputation. Guess she didn’t realize flashing me to get back here
wouldn’t help much.”

Hawke frowned. “Really? She flashed you?”

Max nodded. “Both of them.”

No freakin’ way. Hawke’s ego roared. He
literally had to force her to unjam his zipper, and yet she
willingly gave Max a peep show.

“What do I have to do with ruining her
reputation?”

“My Intel reveals she’s one of those
professional types. Doesn’t mix business with pleasure.”

Hawke gave a confident grin. “Then why is she
here?”

Max made a dramatic show of looking around
the area. “She’s not.”

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” Hawke
mumbled.

“I did my part. You were the one supposed to
keep her back here.”

“Now what?”

“I know where they’re headed.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, but you can’t go.”

“Why not?”

“It’s a dive, a biker bar.”

“So?”

“Have you forgotten who you are?”

Hawke mulled Max’s question, tempted to
answer yes. The sexy sorceress appeared out of nowhere, aroused him
enough to give him an irritating hard on, and then disappeared. He
couldn’t let her get away.

“I’m going with or without you.”

Max stopped outside Hawke’s dressing room,
folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side.
“Think so?”

Hawke smirked. No one got past Max and he
knew it. But he also knew Max would do anything necessary to
complete his mission, even when he wasn’t quite agreeable. So he
tried again.

“What about her friend?”

Max didn’t move a muscle. “Her name is
Cameron Tremaine. Give her to Huntington. Groupie Management is his
specialty.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow. “Sure?”

“Positive. Call me when you’re ready.”

Hawke stepped inside his dressing room to
find Greg Huntington, his manager, waiting as usual.

“Great show,” Greg said as Hawke sat down
opposite him.

“Wild.” Hawke rubbed his hands down his face.
“I met the most interesting woman.”

“How?”

“I found her back stage.”

“She got past Max?”

“She and a friend enticed Max to let them
through the gate.”

“Did you invite her back after the show?”

“I did, but she bailed.”

“Get her name?”

“Max did. Her name is Rachel Newberry. And
get this, she’s an architect.”

“Good thing you’re looking for one, huh?”
Greg shook his head. “I just heard her name today.”

Hawke felt the tension leave his shoulders.
“So you know how to find her.”

Greg raised both eyebrows. “She must really
have something you want.”

”Greg,” he hedged, “it’s not what you
think.”

Greg tilted his head to one side, obviously
expecting an explanation.

Hawke released a heavy sigh. “I had a
wardrobe malfunction.”

“A wardrobe malfunction,” Greg repeated.

Hawke threw his head back against the chair.
“I got my zipper jammed.”

“Classic!” Greg roared. “You oughta market
that strategy. If a beautiful creature had been up close and
personal with my one–eyed -”

Hawke cut him off with a snicker. “Believe
me, it was definitely stimulating.”

“How did she get it loose?”

“I don’t remember. I was too distracted.”

“Did her friend help?”

Hawke pierced Greg with a menacing stare.
“No.”

Greg shifted to retrieve a small card from
his pocket. “The welcoming committee left you a message.” He handed
the pale pink card to Hawke.

Hawke grinned and opened the card.

WELCOME TO DIABLO

Greg snickered. “What flavor?”

Hawke smudged the lipstick print signature
with his index finger and placed it to his lips. “Wild Cherry.”

“How do you do that?”

“Talent,” Hawke bragged.

Greg shrugged. “Anyway, Rachel’s the
architect you want. She comes highly recommended.”

“How’d you find someone so fast?”

“Apparently, she’s in high demand. All my
contacts agree she’s the best. We can’t go wrong. She’ll sign a
confidentiality agreement and she’s your favorite flavor other than
cherry.”