Rock My Christmas (FlameSmith in Love Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter Three

Kendel braced a hand on the shower’s glass wall. Her knees gave, and she sank to her haunches. Burn had stood there in his underwear, and she could only think how badly she wanted him to shed his sole garment and join her in the water. The longer he’d stayed, the more she’d wanted him.

She’d found only a brief relief at the effort of her fingers, but his appearance in her bathroom had her throbbing and needy as before. He’d stared at her like a starving man. The way he’d raked his gaze over her made her think he might find her beautiful, and that way awaited danger.

It struck a ridiculous note. The man was an asshole in the first degree, and he’d behaved abominably toward her since she’d arrived. Was she no better than her college friends whom she’d criticized for choosing bad boys and men who treated them poorly? She had more sense, didn’t she?

“Of course I do.” She stood and washed. “This is simply physical. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Still, she couldn’t ignore a curiosity about the sadness she’d glimpsed in him when he’d gazed out the living room window. She rinsed then shut off the water but stood unmoving.

Why had he come to her room in his underwear? And why had he stared at her as if hungry when he could have any woman of his choosing? When she’d told him to leave, he’d said he couldn’t. Why?

Huffing, she stepped out from behind the glass and used a towel to dry. Maybe she made too much of it. She ought to pretend as though nothing happened. They had enough difficulty getting along without this complication.

In her bedroom, she searched her reflection in a mirrored closet door. “I’m a kind, generous person. I deserve better.”

She didn’t like who she became around him. Defensive. Confrontational. Hot-tempered. However, she refused to let him use her like a doormat.

“I’ll find another job.” After Korea.

With each passing minute, nevertheless, the angrier she became. Dressed, she searched the condo for him. Out of places to look, she went to his room.

Hoping he hadn’t left and now prepared to make a complete fool of herself, she shouted through the door, “Who do you think you are, anyway? I don’t care how famous or self-important you are, you don’t come into my room without knocking.”

His door opened only enough to let him through, and she leapt backward as he shut it. He wore black jeans that appeared painful in their tightness, and a black tank top with the hem torn off so it frayed. His brown eyes shot daggers at her.

“To be frank with you, I heard you moan. I thought you were injured.”

Mortified that he’d both heard and witnessed her masturbating, she fought the urge to lower her gaze. Her heart thumped heavily, and the tips of her fingers throbbed in time to its increasing tempo. “So you thought you could barge into my room unannounced. You may own this place, and I may work for you, but I’m entitled to privacy.”

“There again, I was racing to your rescue. I didn’t realize you were…well…”

Shit! She wanted the floor to open and swallow her.

He jerked his head, flinging his long, nearly black hair out of his eyes. He hadn’t shaved, and the scruff went well beyond mere shadow to outright sexy starter beard. It brought her eyes to his bow-shaped, kiss-me-now lips.

She ripped her gaze from his mouth. “I don’t think this is going to work out. All we do is argue.”

His nostrils flared, and he sighed while inserting a long-fingered hand up under the unraveling edge of his shirt. “Classic. We’re meant to be going to Seoul. I really need an aide. You happen to work as my aide, as fate would have it.”

She shook her head, her stomach sinking. “I’ll stay behind and get another job. One way or another, by the time you get back, I’ll be gone. I think it’s for the best.”

He studied her a long moment, and when his hair slid down his forehead, he combed it out of his eyes with his hand. “I disagree. As much as I hate to admit it, Dan’s right. You’re here to do a job, not betray me.”

“Betray you?” She ventured a step nearer. Was this why he’d been so unbearable? He thought she’d come to blackmail or swindle him in some way? “What do you mean?”

He gave his head a nearly imperceptible shake that sent his bangs into his eyes. “I’m sure you’d fancy an explanation, but I’m not prepared to give one. Suffice it to say I’ll endeavor to treat you better.”

Skeptical and wary, she put a hand on her hip. “Did one of your other assistants sell your secrets to the media or something?”

“Do you mind me not saying? It’s personal.”

There was that sadness she’d witnessed earlier. She wanted to soften, but he’d acted so extremely unlikable until now. Still, she had to fight the urge to reach up and brush his hair aside.

He released a long breath. “At the break of day, your passport will arrive, we’ll drive to the airport, and by dinnertime tomorrow, we’ll be landing in Korea.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You really want me to go that badly?”

“You’re not a git, which is a huge improvement over the aide before you. I like that you cooked for us this morning, and you have an overall air of competence. So, yes. I really want you to go that badly.”

Despite his deadpan expression, she had to resist a smile with all her might. Compliments? From him? She never thought the day would come.

“Fine,” she said and moved the hair from his eyes, amazed by its soft, thick texture. “I’ve got scissor skills. I could trim this for you.”

*    *    *

Eyeing a pair of lethal-looking stainless steel scissors in Kendel’s lovely white fingers, Burn stifled a shiver of dread. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? I have a concert tomorrow. It may be hard to strike a confident note if I let my aide get her revenge by hacking my hair into a shambles.”

Her full lips curved slightly into a reassuring smile that bordered on seductive. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve been trimming my brothers’ hair since I was fifteen. Besides, I’m not the vengeful type. You really do have trust issues.”

“You’ve no idea.” He reluctantly sank onto a low stool in her bathroom and let her dampen his hair.

The feel of her firm strokes across his scalp both relaxed and excited him – a sensation wholly new to him. “I have a stylist. He’s very talented.”

“Unfortunately, you’re overdue to visit him. Can he take care of this mess today?” Her large blue eyes assessed and her fingers stilled.

“Why do you say my stylist is male?”

“Seriously? You said
he’s
very talented. I’m not a git, remember?” She chuckled. “Besides, I’ve never met a man who distrusted women as much as you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t ask him to trim me today. He’d only be angry to have to turn me away.” He closed his eyes and savored her massage as her fingertips resumed their journey through his hair.

“Exactly. And do you really want to face two overseas performances where your hair keeps getting in your eyes?”

“Can’t say as I do.” Every nerve in his body screamed at him to run, but he held his seat. This served as his peace offering for being such a wanker to her. Anyhow, his hair had started annoying him.

The scissors sliced on a metallic snick, and he held his breath. Snick. Snick. Her fingers measured, tugged, and combed. She shifted, and when her firm breasts brushed his arm, he opened his eyes. He released the pent breath and inhaled her clean scent.

Snick. Snick.

Bits of hair dropped past his face to his lap. The small pieces placated him, as well as her sure movements. He relaxed a bit.

He liked the fragrance of her shampoo, which clung to her drying curls. She had lazy, sexy curls that fell in layers past her shoulders. Where moisture remained, her hair had an auburn hue, but where her curls had dried and gained body and bounce, it fairly glowed a rich, burnt orange. It felt like silk where it rested on his bare shoulder a minute while she trimmed his topmost length.

As her fingernails grazed the back of his head, and then she gently pulled his hair straight before applying the blades, a quickening began in his groin. Luckily, the slide of cold steel along the skin of his neck provided enough danger to prevent an actual hard-on.

“Don’t cut it too short. I have an image to uphold. I can’t very well go into the public eye looking like a complete nob.”

“Trust me.” She moved in front of him, her eyes intent while she raked his hair from his crown to his hairline.

“I’m incapable. Don’t ask it.”

She went to the counter and squirted clear gel into her palm from a green tube. “You are capable. How are you going to give me work if you don’t trust me to do as you ask?”

“That’s different.”

Kendel worked the gel through his hair, and he closed his eyes. He liked yet feared her confidence. She could really screw him. Especially living here, she would continue to tempt him while witnessing first-hand his habits and idiosyncrasies.

“Self-important?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused. At my bedroom door, you called me famous and self-important.” His arousal pressed at the unrelenting material of his jeans, and he unsuccessfully willed it to abate.

“I was angry, and you’d been mean since I got here yesterday.” She retreated a step, gave his hair a sideways swipe at his forehead, and offered a satisfied smile. “Now, that looks good.”

“I’m not, you know. Self-important.”

Her azure gaze met his eyes. “You’ll have to prove it. You’re first impression needs work, Burn.”

“Perhaps.”

“Have a look.”

Slowly he stood then faced her vanity mirror. A dapper, fashionable reflection met his study. She’d cut his hair into a style that swept forward, formed a sort of stiff-looking short bang that partly went sideways and partly went up into a cool crest. He swiveled his head left and right, liking the shortness at the back. His hair still went to his collar, but it lay straight instead of curling.

“What do you think?” Kendel came to his side and ran her fingers through the hair at the side, her soft fingers brushing the curve of his ear and renewing his arousal.

In a too-throaty voice, he said, “It’s edgy. Clean. I like it.”

“I’m so glad.” She flashed straight, white teeth at him in the mirror.

He strode out, desperate to leave before he lost control and put his hands on her. Over his shoulder, he said, “Pick me up a bag of plain chocolates while you’re out.”

*    *    *

“You’re welcome,” Kendel called after Burn, but he didn’t respond.

She glanced at the mess of trimmings on the floor and shook her head. He couldn’t say thank you? What was wrong with that man?

After cleaning the bathroom, she borrowed a bicycle from Bill in the security office and used her phone app to map her way around. Luckily, she didn’t have far to go.

She made her final stop at a convenience market several blocks from Ganon Square and chose a few bags of chocolate. She had no idea if he liked milk, dark, or bittersweet, and she couldn’t take the chance of making a wrong choice. With the sun beginning to set, she suspected she’d have no time to run more errands tonight.

A man at the checkout ahead of her wore a camera around his neck. He glanced at her then at the badge hanging from her lanyard. “Which one do you work for?”

A clerk stepped behind the counter and waved her to a second register. She placed the candy on the counter and handed over Burn’s credit card.

The man leaned closer. “I can make it worth your while. You tell me where the band will be, and I’ll split the picture money with you.”

Disgusted, she refused to give him the courtesy of an answer. She finished making her purchase and accepted her shopping bag from the clerk. She dropped it into the bag with the agent’s wrapped gift.

As she moved past the photographer toward the exit, he grasped her by the elbow. “I’m serious.”

She yanked free, appalled. “Seriously disturbed maybe. Don’t
ever
touch me, you slimy creep.”

Outside, her hands shook as she slid the bag’s handles onto the bike’s handhold. Man, that guy had some balls. No wonder Burn couldn’t trust her yet. With paparazzi promising money to the stars’ employees, temptation waited everywhere.

She returned the bicycle to Bill, offering him a smile and thank you, then hurried to the eighth floor. Both Dan and Burn looked sexy in black leather pants, leather boots, and silk shirts.

The bass player stood in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water at the sink. “Have to hydrate before drinking champagne.”

She wouldn’t know. Kendel pulled the sack of chocolates out of the department store bag as Burn came to her.

“Did you get the gift?” he asked.

“I’ll always do what you ask,” she promised, pulling the gold foil-encased box out and handing it to him. She used her thumb to reshape a wire in the red ribbon where the fancy bow had flattened a bit.