Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll (3 page)

“When can we meet her?”

“I’ll call tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds promising.”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do,
Hawke?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re at the top of your game.”

“I’m not leaving the game, I’m just changing
positions.”

Greg shrugged again and stood to exchange a
handshake with Hawke. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

“No, not tonight.”

Greg frowned. “You’re not sticking around for
the party?”

Hawke shook his head in denial.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Later, Greg.”

He watched Greg leave the dressing room,
already rewinding their conversation. Rachel Newberry. What was it
about her that demanded his attention? Besides being insanely
beautiful and crouched in one of his favorite positions, she hadn’t
said much. His groin still throbbed at the memory. She didn’t throw
herself at him, tear off his clothes or maul him. Instead she
seemed shell-shocked. And very empathetic.

She wasn’t impressed.

His ego winced. Not possible. Somewhere in
the depths of his mind reality cleared its throat. Who the hell
cared if she were impressed? Although her interest would make
things easier, it wasn’t necessary. Hawke ignored the mocking voice
in his brain and squared his shoulders. Another chance meeting
would change her mind.

***

Rachel’s pulse pounded with uncertainty as
she and Cameron stood outside the dark, seedy bar known to locals
as Harley’s.

“We’re really going inside?”

“Relax,” Cameron soothed. “It looks worse
than it is.”

Cameron flung open the door and an eerie,
cloudy fog welcomed them inside. The thick, choking cigarette smoke
floating on the dim rays of light over the bar coated them with its
musky smell. Loud, obnoxious rock music shook the walls, while men
dressed in skin tight, worn leather kept time with women who were
barely dressed. Rachel’s lips trembled with a threatened smile.
Although the place had a sordid reputation, the atmosphere didn’t
differ too much from Hawke’s concert.

Rachel closed her eyes and swallowed,
summoning every ounce of courage she possessed, and stepped inside.
Once enveloped by the cover of semi-darkness, she relaxed somewhat
when Cameron steered her to a corner table.

“I’ll get us a drink,” Cameron said.

“I’m going with you.”

With a hand to her shoulder, Cameron forced
Rachel into a chair. “Sit. You’ll attract more attention if you’re
alone.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she grumbled as
Cameron left the table.

Twisting her fingers together, Rachel
fidgeted and glanced around the room. Two burly guys near the dart
board extended a nod. She gasped and lowered her eyes. After
tonight, Cameron was on her own. No more adventure for me.

Cameron returned and put four shot glasses on
the table. “See anything you like?”

“In this place?” she hissed, picking up one
of the glasses and tossing it back.

“Slow down!” Cameron shrieked, grabbing the
glass from Rachel. “You don’t drink, remember?”

Rachel frowned. “I drink.”

“Wine doesn’t count,” Cameron clucked.
“Especially when it’s only once a month.”

“This isn’t going to work, Cameron.” Rachel
picked up the next glass and swallowed the amber liquid.

Cameron sighed. “Look, Rachel. Every woman
feeds a bad-boy hunger and you will too. Just try. Believe me,
these men are more than willing to satisfy your curiosity.”

“I need another drink.”

Cameron scooted a glass across the table with
one french-manicured fingernail. “Drink mine.”

By the bottom of her third shot, Rachel felt
much more optimistic about Cameron’s plan. Except that even the
false courage provided by alcohol couldn’t convince her to confront
a man in this place. Realistically, some of them were attractive
but none of them interested her enough to consider something more
than conversation.

Her mind drifted back over the events of the
evening. Flashing the bodyguard had been truly out of character,
but she felt oddly empowered by the experience. Who would have ever
thought that two, naked, mountains of flesh could be so convincing?
And being one-on-one with Jaydon Hawke’s most prized possession?
Now, that was definitely an uplifting experience. She drained her
glass again and slammed the door on her thoughts. Too much
alcohol.

“I don’t like anything here,” she said
adamantly.

“You’re being too picky,” Cameron scolded.
“That guy over there in the corner by the pool table is checking
you out. He’s not bad.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “And just how much
have you had to drink? I can smell him from over here.”

“You drank mine,” Cameron said wryly.

“No need to worry about that, Ladies,” a
deep, rich male voice assured them.

Rachel raised her gaze to see two men propped
against the neighboring table. She squinted at one of them. Was
that a skull and crossed bones? On his forehead?

“Bones and I will be more than happy to buy
you another.”

***

Hawke’s nerves tightened as he glanced around
the dark parking lot and then at Max. “My Intel is screwed. Nothing
I dug up suggested she would even consider coming here.”

Max gave him a smug grin as whistles and
catcalls echoed in the stillness.

“They’re here,” he said, scanning the
perimeter as they opened the front door.

Once inside, he pointed at a corner
table.

“There you go,” he mumbled. “Thelma and
Louise on your left.”

Hawke focused on the table, his eyes bulging
in disbelief as the drama unfolded. His green-eyed witch had her
tiny fingers wrapped around a glass, slinging the liquid all over
the guy next to her. Her friend was busy dodging advances from the
other man.

“Bad idea,” Max grumbled. “Let’s go.”

“No,” Hawke demanded. “We need to put a stop
to that.”

Max grunted. “We? Hell no.”

Hawke clenched his teeth, not quite sure why
anger punched him in the gut. “Yes.”

“I’ll come back once you’re locked in the
car.”

Hawke’s blood boiled and he balled his fists.
“I said I’m staying.”

Max had the balls to grin. “You gonna stomp
your foot and cry too?”

Even Hawke had to chuckle. “Look Max, we
can’t leave them and you know it.”

“All the blonde has to do is plant that spike
of a heel in his groin. He’ll stop.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Can’t remember.”

Hawke grinned. “Yes you can.”

“Cameron.”

Hawke looked closer. Sure enough, the two
women were hell bent on fending off unwanted advances. He watched,
actually impressed when Cameron ground her spiked heel into her
victim’s foot.

“Looks like she took your advice.”

“Damn female. Stay here.” Max bulldozed his
way through the crowd. Without a second thought, Hawke
followed.

And then the swarm of women on the dance
floor noticed him. Several sexy winks were thrown his
direction.

Max frowned over his shoulder. “Thought I
told you to stay put.”

Hawke grinned. “You did.”

Unfamiliar jealously flooded Hawke as he
approached the table and watched as his sexy sorceress’ unwanted
suitor stroked her breast. Besides the fact it was totally
inappropriate, his own fingers itched to feel her dandelion-soft
skin pressed to his hard, primed body. He bit back the smile that
pulled at his lips.

“Oh look, Rachel,” the blonde drawled, “more
company.”

“Hawke!” Rachel giggled mercilessly while she
swatted traveling fingers from the swell of her cleavage. “You’re
back! Hold my drink.”

“She’s blasted,” Max pointed out.

Liquid sloshed over the side of her glass as
she thrust it at him. “This is my friend, Cameron, and this is
Bones,” she continued.

Hawke stepped closer and shoved the wandering
hands from her body. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

With a cocky smirk, Bones inched her skirt up
her creamy thigh. Hesitating only a second, Hawke clenched his fist
and connected it with the inky name tag on Bones’ forehead. The man
swayed and rose to fight, moving only the musky air when he dangled
from Max’s iron grip.

“Get lost.” Max tossed him a few feet from
the table. “And take Hop-a-Long with you.”

After Max hoisted Cameron under one bulky
arm, they watched as the two men scurried from the bar.

“Put me down, Hulk,” Cameron shrieked.

“Are you going to behave?”

“Do you want me to?” she challenged.

Max set her gently on the floor and stepped
out of her reach.

Cameron reached to replace her sandal strap
around her ankle. “We had it under control.”

Max nodded. “Sure you did.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Hawke
asked, halfway between amused and angry.

Cameron crossed her arms over her chest. “Why
are you here?”

“I’m satisfying my bad-boy hunger.” Rachel
reached for her empty glass. “I need more beer.”

Hawke stared wordlessly, processing her
admission. Bad boy hunger? This was definitely one fucked-up
mission.

Cameron snatched the glass. “No more beer.
You’ve had enough.”

Rachel moaned. “Now I’ll never know.”

“You’ll know more than you think in the
morning,” Cameron muttered as she gestured for Rachel to get out of
her chair.

“Need some help?” Max asked.

Cameron gave him a cursory glance. “No
thanks, Dudley Do-Right, we can make it.”

Hawke studied Rachel while she stood and
tossed her hair over her shoulder. She shifted her skirt back in
place and buttoned the top button of her blouse. Then she smiled
like the whole evening never happened. Even drunk, she was so
controlled. Loose-lipped, but controlled.

“Hawke!” a female voice screamed over the
music. “It’s really Hawke!”

“Hawke,” Max growled, “You’re an idiot.”

Cameron shoved Rachel through the bar and out
the door as a squealing female riot erupted.

“Good grief,” she groused as she unlocked the
passenger door of her car and motioned Rachel inside. “They act
like they’ve never seen anything like him.”

“They haven’t seen him like I have,” Rachel
murmured as she threw her head against the cool leather
headrest.

Cameron pushed Rachel to the middle of the
seat. “Oh yeah?”

Rachel gasped and then hiccupped. “I’ve had
way too much to drink.”

Cameron pulled the seatbelt across Rachel’s
body and locked it securely in place. “I knew something else
happened while I was out. Do you want to confess now or in the
morning?”

Rachel closed her eyes and moaned. Cameron
giggled evilly and shut the door.

After climbing in on the driver’s side,
Cameron looked over at Rachel. “You haven’t had enough to drink to
pass out.”

Rachel opened one eye. “I might have.”

“No, you haven’t.” Cameron started the car
and backed out of the parking space.

“I told you what happened anyway. Sorry, no
more to tell.”

“Okay, but something doesn’t add up. He’s not
your type, yet you obviously saw something that impressed you.”

Rachel threw both hands in the air. “Fine,
I’ll admit it! From my position earlier tonight, I was extremely
impressed. I’ve never been so tempted in my life. Are you
happy?”

Cameron tilted her head to one side. “Well,
not really.”

“Why?” Rachel shrieked.

Cameron bit her lip to keep from laughing.
“Because I’m wondering why you didn’t take advantage of that
position.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake, Cameron, that’s enough!
My head is about to explode and I might throw up.”

Suddenly not humored, Cameron pressed the
accelerator to the floor. “I love you like a sister, Rachel, but
not in my car.”

Rachel rubbed her aching temples and took
another swig of Gingerale. What had she been thinking? Obviously,
her bad boy hunger had been satisfied because hunger was not what
she felt this morning. Not even a twinge. Cameron was just going to
have to accept the fact that she was beyond help. No more
adventures, no more flashing, and no more biker bars. Ever.

Thank God she didn’t have any appointments
scheduled today. She jumped when the shrill shriek of the telephone
on her desk stabbed her eardrums.

“Rachel Newberry,” she answered, attempting
to disguise her discomfort.

“Ms. Newberry, my name is Greg Huntington. I
received your name from a friend of mine who highly recommends your
services.”

Rachel shifted to a sitting position and
chased a rolling pencil around the desk. “How can I help you, Mr.
Huntington?”

“One of my clients would like to build a
house in the area. We would like to schedule a meeting.”

She slapped the pencil with her open palm and
wiggled it between her fingers. “I’d love to help you, however, my
client list is full at the moment.”

And I’m too hung over to focus on my
calendar.

She heard a throaty chuckle across the line.
“You might change your mind after meeting him.”

Him? Her? Who cares?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Huntington, I’m just so busy
right now. I could give you the name of—”

”My client is Jaydon Hawke.”

A tense silence vibrated between them. Her
head pounded double time. Any minute now one of two things were
going to happen: Her head would explode and scatter what was left
of her brain all over the desk, or the alarm would buzz and she’d
wake up from this horrible nightmare.

“Ms. Newberry?”

She cleared her throat. “Does Mr. Hawke know
who I am?”

Another cocky snicker. “Of course.”

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. So
much for anonymous. “And he still asked you to call me?”

“He insisted. Why?”