Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll
By Mia Dymond
Copyright 2011 Mia Dymond
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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CHAPTER ONE
“Cameron, I can’t believe you’re making me do this!”
Rachel took one look around the jam-packed auditorium of the Diablo Convention Center and felt the sudden urge to lose her lunch. No way could she do what Cameron expected her to do. The mere thought of it was totally ridiculous. She glanced at the closest exit sign and opened her mouth to speak.
“Don’t even think about it,” Cameron said from beside her.
“Why?”
Rachel’s stomach spun and her cheeks heated as Cameron tugged her through a sea of spandex and sequins.
“You tossed your back stage pass, remember?” Cameron’s infectious giggle was swallowed by the sound of hysterical, screaming women.
Rachel squeezed her eyes closed and swallowed hard. How could I forget?
Still, she had to try to change Cameron’s mind one more time. “Can’t I just buy you a pair of shoes?”
Rachel glanced down at Cameron’s feet, wrapped in a pair of strappy black sandals that boosted her height at least six inches. Surely the Louis Vuitton pumps in Bergmann’s window could provide a tempting incentive.
A sly grin creased Cameron’s lips. “Nah,” she said as she wrinkled her nose and pulled Rachel through the crowd.
Rachel exhaled in frustration. Cameron had managed to talk her into doing something completely out of her comfort zone. Cameron had this bright idea (one of her best, she claimed) to get backstage to meet world-renowned rock star, Jaydon Hawke, at his concert. A completely Cameron thing to do, but oh so not Rachel’s modus operandi.
Cameron tightened her hold on Rachel’s elbow. “I won’t miss this opportunity, not even for you.”
Rachel frowned. Although she understood Cameron’s excitement, she wasn’t being entirely rational. “You realize less than 25% of women who attempt this feat actually succeed, don’t you?”
Cameron looked at her like she grew two heads. “Where on Earth did you hear that?”
“I didn’t. I researched it. It’s true.”
Cameron shook her head. “You really need to relax, Rachel.”
Rachel gave a heavy sigh. “There’s no guarantee we’ll get back there, let alone see Hawke.”
Cameron stopped and folded her arms. “First of all, let me remind you that it was you who forced me to orchestrate this mission.”
Rachel flinched as guilt poked her. “I know and I’m sorry. I was sure you’d go back there without me.” Rachel tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “If you’ll just wait two seconds, I can run to the hospitality counter and explain. I’m sure I can finagle another pass.”
The mischievous look that overtook Cameron’s face made Rachel’s nerves tremble.
“Too late.” Cameron dismissed her with a wave of her hand and nudged her toward the stage. “Besides, you know as well as I do, I don’t care if we see Hawke or not.”
Rachel paused. She knew good and well Cameron nursed a huge crush on Hawke’s drummer, Sean Pirelli. And apparently, being the object of Cameron’s raging hormones was a dangerous thing.
“Yes, but what if someone sees me?”
Cameron chuckled. “Believe me, Rachel, no one expects to see you here.”
Rachel didn’t know whether to be insulted or relieved. But, Cameron had a point. Rachel had never been to a rock concert in her life and certainly never tried to get back stage.
So she followed behind, both amazed and terrified when Cameron maneuvered them all the way up front and two feet from the backstage entrance. Unfortunately, the massive, bald, mountain of a man standing guard appeared to be unimpressed by Cameron’s tactics.
He gave a slight nod. “Ladies.”
Rachel forced a smile and tried to hide as best she could behind Cameron’s five foot frame.
In her usual sassy manner, Cameron tossed her naturally blonde curls, flashed her black and white VIP pass, and pointed behind him. “We’re supposed to be back there.”
In one practiced swoop, he took her pass and slid it into his left front jeans pocket. “The meet-and-greet was two hours ago.”
Rachel’s nerves skipped a happy dance. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Her relief, however, was short lived when she reached for Cameron’s elbow and grasped only air.
Cameron took two steps closer to the guard.
Rachel could only stare as Cameron fluttered her eyelids and molded her soft curves to his hard, muscled body. Then, with a steamy smile, she stood on her tiptoes to caress the top of his smooth, shiny head with her fingertips, and leaned in to tickle his ear with a whisper.
Rachel stole a quick look around the area to make sure they hadn’t attracted any attention. When her gaze rested back on the bouncer, he stood with his hands crossed over his sculpted chest, his head lowered to gaze over the top of his Armani sunglasses, lazily perusing Cameron’s body from top to bottom. Rachel let some of the tension slide from her shoulders. Cameron had everything under control. He was quite obviously occupied for now. Maybe Cameron could pull this off alone.
Cameron braced one smooth, shapely leg against his hip and Rachel’s eyes widened when she noticed the zipper of his black denim jeans strained to restrain his enthusiasm. Rachel moaned under her breath and fought the sudden urge to leave Cameron holding the bag. But once again, loyalty to Cameron stopped her and she shifted from foot to foot, certain they would be thrown out any minute. Instead, he stood morbidly still.
Rachel swallowed hard when Cameron took a step back and placed both hands on the hem of her blouse.
“Now,” she told Rachel.
Against her better judgment, Rachel followed Cameron’s example and in the next second she and Cameron lifted their shirts and presented their lush, firm, bare breasts to the valiant soldier. He cocked an eyebrow and Rachel could’ve sworn his upper lip lifted a millimeter. Although she was totally embarrassed, Rachel felt somewhat relieved that his gaze was zeroed in on Cameron. And, obviously he’d forgotten all about her legs.
Rachel shook herself free of her temporary insanity and yanked her shirt back in place, shocked that she actually participated. But even more shocking was motorcycle-man’s overly satisfied smile as he pushed his shades back up over his eyes, unclipped the velvet rope of the barrier, and waved them through the entrance.
“See?” Cameron smoothed her top with both hands and plumped her breasts back up to the top. “Piece of cake. Now you’re ready for Harley’s.”
“A biker bar?!” Rachel tossed her hair over her shoulder in defiance as she repositioned herself. “No way.”
“Way.” Cameron threw a playful wink at the burly watch dog still poised at the gate. “You’ve just proven your equipment is in tip-top condition.”
Rachel gave Cameron her best when hell freezes look. “From now on, my equipment stays put.”
“Well, we’re back here. Nothing’s stopping us now.”
“What exactly did you say to him?”
“I just explained we only had one pass but it would be worth his while to pretend we had two. Obviously, he agreed.”
Although still not convinced the whole evening had not been a terrible nightmare, Rachel followed Cameron down the corridor, puzzled by the lack of security. Surely there were more bouncers than the one at the gate. A twinge of apprehension tickled the base of her back bone.
“Uh, Cameron, where is everybody?”
Even Cameron seemed to be bothered by the emptiness. “Kinda weird, huh? You’d think—”
Rachel stopped in mid-step, just in time to stop herself from plowing into Cameron. “What’s wrong?”
Rachel glanced around Cameron and her mouth fell open. There, in the flesh, headed straight for them was Jaydon Hawke himself. She looked closer. In the flesh was an understatement. His shirt flaps blew in the breeze behind him, his toned, sculpted abs rippled with each step. And lower, his tight red, leather pants had been left unzipped enough to catch a glimpse of his obliques, carved into a sexy valley leading to a nicely wrapped package between his legs.
“Hey ladies.”
Rachel raised her gaze from his groin to his face, a split second before Cameron passed smooth out, her lemon drop curls threatening to smack the cement on the way down. Baffled by both Cameron’s reaction and Hawke’s arrival, Rachel managed to overcome her confusion long enough to catch Cameron and fold her neatly on the floor.
“Darn you, Cameron, this was your idea,” she mumbled.
Rachel squatted beside Cameron and fanned her vigorously, tempted to slap her silly.
“Sonuva—”
Hawke’s half-curse stalled her motion.
“What now?” she snapped.
Almost embarrassed by her sharp tone, Rachel released a heavy breath. It wasn’t his fault her evening had gone to hell.
“I need you to come here for a minute.”
Rachel snorted and resumed moving the air around Cameron. She gave Cameron’s shoulder a shake. For Pete’s sake, wake up! “I can’t leave her like this.”
“She’s fine,” he insisted, “it happens all the time. I really need your help.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. Of course this happened all the time. Forcing herself to admit Cameron was still out cold, she glanced over her shoulder.
“Oh, God.” Her jaw fell open. “What are you doing?”
Hawke stood inches from her with his hands between his legs and a smirk on his face. ”Not what you think.” He moved his hands to the side. “My zipper is jammed. You’re going to have to help me.”
Mortified, all she could do was stare like a star struck idiot. This is not happening. “You have got to be kidding.”
“I wish like hell I was.”
Rachel glanced down at his groin and then back at him. “No.”
He released a throaty chuckle. “You don’t expect me to go out there like this, do you?”
Rachel couldn’t help but lower her eyes again. His pants were so tight, it was quite obvious what rested beneath. He’d cause a riot.
Without moving her gaze, she made a last ditch effort to sway his decision. “Just leave your shirt untucked.”
Another low, sexy laugh. “You’ve never seen my show, have you?”
Rachel shook her head.
“My pants really need to be zipped,” he said. “My shirt won’t stay on long.”
Rachel closed her eyes and briefly chastised herself for blindly following Cameron. This is exactly what I get. First I flash the bodyguard, now this.
Determined to end the madness, she released an aggravated sigh. “Can you come closer? I really don’t want to leave her.”
She saw his jaw clench as he inched closer. Rachel glanced back down at Cameron who appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Surely this wouldn’t take long. And he did appear to be sincere about needing her help.
Rachel turned and crouched between his legs, positioning one palm on each side of his zipper. Sudden movement under her right hand made her flinch.
“Um.” She swallowed hard. “That’s only going to complicate matters.”
He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head until their eyes met. “Sweetheart, there’s not a damn thing I can do about that.”
Rachel’s cheeks burnt. There was absolutely no way she would work the zipper around that obstacle. “I don’t think I’m the right person for this. Let me get someone else.”
Something between panic and amusement flashed in his eyes. “No time. I’ve got to get out there.”
Rachel released another sigh and refocused on her task. The zipper was stuck halfway up the tract. If she could force it back down, he could take it from there.
“Can you squeeze the edges together?”
For a split second she thought he might argue. And then he reached down and pinched the fabric between his fingers.
Rachel moved her hand from the overwhelming warmth of his body and grasped the zipper. After a few quick tugs, it slid free. Just as Rachel was about to declare victory, she heard Cameron’s voice behind her.
“That was definitely not part of the plan.”
Sheer, white terror enveloped her as Rachel looked over her shoulder. Too late she realized that in her surprise, her hands lay plastered to Hawke’s groin, her fingers all but wrapped around his anatomy. Cameron now sat on the concrete floor, her legs folded beneath her, both eyebrows raised in curiosity.
“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.”
CHAPTER TWO
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.”
“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.”
CHAPTER THREE
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?”
Rachel hesitated. How much did this man actually know about her encounter with Hawke? “Mr. Hawke and I have met.”
“Yes, I know.” A note of arrogance slipped through his response. “I don’t understand your hesitancy.”
Rachel sighed. Either he didn’t know the whole story or he did and chalked it up to rock star drama. Still, she tread carefully. “We met last night under some very ... unusual circumstances. Trust me, after last night’s fiasco, you should be surprised he wants to hire me.”
A loud thunk pierced her left eardrum. O..kay… Apparently there were several things he didn’t know. She squinted one eye and held the phone at arm’s length until he spoke.
“Ms. Newberry, we would really appreciate an appointment.”
Another wave of nausea crested in her esophagus. She swallowed hard, desperate to get him off the phone. “If you’re certain.”
“I am.”
“Fine. I’ll meet him after hours.” Rachel scribbled Greg’s name on her calendar. “Six o’clock this evening.”
“We’ll take it. Hawke and his security manager will be there.”
Rachel returned the receiver to the cradle and threw her head back against her chair, only to regret the rapid movement. She squeezed her eyes closed and begged her stomach to behave. Why on Earth had she been so agreeable to meet Hawke? And now what? By now the bouncer had filled him in on all the excitement. Rachel groaned. How was she supposed to know Hawke planned to hire her? She pressed her palms to her forehead and took a deep breath.
Wait a minute.
Cameron was probably right, the beefy bodyguard was much more than muscle. Now she was certain they’d checked her out. And the manager, what’s-his-name- she leaned forward and checked her calendar – Greg Huntington. He mentioned a referral from another client. So, had Hawke planned to hire her before the concert?
She reached for the aspirin near the computer. Whatever his reasoning, she was stuck now. Besides, even if she did call and cancel, Cameron would reschedule. In fact, Cameron would welcome the opportunity to flex her muscle at both Hawke and his bodyguard. Rachel released a heavy sigh. Hawke just didn’t realize how lucky he was that he’d caught her at a weak moment.
***
Lt. Jaydon Hawke twirled the business card through his fingers as Cpt. Max Sterling drove him to meet the mysterious Rachel Newberry. After the unexpected events of the last twenty four hours, he wasn’t sure quite what to expect. The sexy woman he had encountered last night was a total surprise. Where was the meek and plain architect that had been secretly followed and photographed? He hadn’t been as prepared as he’d thought.
Part of him wanted to believe she arranged the after-hours meeting for personal reasons. After all, they hadn’t had an opportunity to talk much at the show. Or at Harley’s. But then, Greg mentioned her hesitance at meeting at all. Almost as if she had no intention of ever seeing him again. Hawke scrubbed a hand over his jaw, aggravated by the question marks assaulting his brain.
“Take it easy, Hawke. Stick to the plan. You’re just supposed to seduce her, like always.”
Max’s booming command caused Hawke to shove his thoughts of Rachel to the side and at least attempt to appear smooth. “What makes you think I’m planning anything more?” Hawke shrugged.
“She’s a suspect and I have to do whatever it takes to get close to her.”
“Something else is going on in that thick skull of yours.”
“Just strategy.”
“If you say so.”
“She’s not what I expected.”
“They never are.”
“No, really. According to her profile, she hardly ever leaves the office, she has one close friend, and she rarely socializes.”
“So?”
“So why the hell was she at the concert?”
“We lured her there, remember?”
Hawke weighed that fact. True, they had approached her client with concert tickets, hoping he would pass them to her. “We provided the bait, but why did she accept?”
“I think the blonde hellcat had something to do with that.”
Hawke snickered. “That is highly possible.”
“You know as well as I do criminals don’t advertise.”
“She doesn’t fit the prototype.”
“You’ve spent too many hours behind a computer, Hawke. I think there’s more to it.”
Hawke folded his arms across his chest. “Oh yeah? Then, please, fill me in.”
“Seems to me you’re caught up in your cover. She’s a young, beautiful piece of tail who didn’t kiss your ass. You want to find out why and change her mind.”
“Gee-zus, Max, she’s a mark!”
Max raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer.
Hawke opened his mouth to argue then decided against it. Max knew the score. Screw the assignment. Rachel’s rejection stung. Not because she wasn’t interested – she was interested, her body had betrayed her in that regard – but because she wouldn’t give him a chance.
Max pulled into the nearest parking space. Hawke crammed on a baseball cap and dark sunglasses and waited for Max to open his door. After Max circled the vehicle twice in his routine check for anything unusual, they sauntered through the front door of the office building.
Max nodded at the security officer seated behind a row of monitors and then steered him onto the waiting elevator. Within the next 30 seconds, the heavy metal elevator door opened, depositing them just outside a closed office door. Hawke glanced at the nameplate. Newberry & Tremaine.
Max gave him a sideways glance. “You ready for this?”
Hawke grinned. Nothing, not even a cold metal zipper could keep him out. “Hell yeah.”
Max grasped the doorknob, strolled into the office, and then nodded for Hawke to enter.
Two steps inside, Hawke stopped short when he caught sight of an amazing heart-shaped ass covered in what appeared to be red silk waving hello from the reception desk. Hawke raised his glasses and looked at Max. Sorry sucker was zeroed in on the same thing.
Hawke replaced his glasses and cleared his throat. Max grinned.
“Hold your horses.” Muffled by the position, the voice at the other end released a heavy dose of sass into the room. “I dropped my earring and it rolled down here somewhere. Oh, here it is!”
As soon as the figure stood and faced them, Hawke knew this would be an interesting meeting.
The tiny blonde with the gorgeous rack pocketed a gold hoop earring and gave her skirt a tug. “May I—” Her voice suddenly broke in mid-sentence. “Holy cow.”
Hawke flipped through his mental rolodex. Karen? Kelley?
“Cameron Tremaine.” She stuck out her hand and grinned. “And you are Jaydon Hawke.”
“Hawke.” He shifted and accepted her outstretched hand, surprised she didn’t seem bothered that both he and Max could probably describe her lingerie in great detail.
“Okay, then, Hawke.” The devil danced in her eyes as she flicked a gaze toward the back corner office. “Rachel’s on the phone. She’ll be right with you.”
“Thank you.”
Cameron’s ever-present grin remained glued on her face as she turned to Max. “And since you’ve already manhandled me, I guess I should get your name.”
“Max.”
“Max …” she hesitated, obviously expecting him to give his last name.
“Just Max.”
“Oh come on, big guy,” she taunted. “Even prisoners give their name, rank and serial number.”
Hawke wasn’t sure if it was the thought of her panties or not, but his blood pressure rose a few degrees. Nobody, women included, challenged Max. His size alone discouraged it. Yet this one, petite, blue-eyed bombshell didn’t appear to give a damn.
“Behave, Cameron.”
Another wave of heat rippled his skin as he turned to see who dared tame the sassy lioness. Relief unknotted his stomach muscles when he saw Rachel Newberry, the same dragon slayer who had conquered the fiery jaws of his metal zipper.
“Mr. Hawke, we meet again.”
As he grasped her outstretched hand, Hawke took a second to consider his strategy while his shaded eyes bounced between the two women. Should he leave Max with Cameron? His first thought was to reschedule, exit stage left, and run. Except that Cameron stood between him and the door and there was just something about her that, well, scared him. Instead, he waited for Rachel to say something. But she didn’t.
So he played it smooth and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Ms. Newberry.”
She squeezed then extracted her hand. “Come on into my office and we’ll review your plans.”
Hawke glanced at Max then cleared his throat. “You gonna be okay out here?”
Max folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Hawke.”
Convinced Max had everything under control, Hawke turned and followed Rachel down the hall, tantalized by the sway of her curvy hips.
A sense of dread pooled in Max’s stomach as he watched Hawke disappear into the back office. He shifted his eyes to the blonde poltergeist hovering next to him.
“So,” she said in the baited silence, “we meet again also.”
He moved his head about two millimeters to the left, not offering friendly conversation.
“You would have to be the strong silent type,” she mumbled as she sat on the sofa. She patted the cushion beside her. “You might as well make yourself comfortable. They’ll be awhile.”
Max looked from the sofa, to the front door, and back at her.
She rolled her baby blues. “I won’t bite.”
He bit back a threatened grin. Probably not. But who said it was her he was worried about? Fully dressed in a short business skirt that he knew from experience hid some very biteable thighs, she still excited him. The shoes she wore today once again added height and screamed take me. He swallowed, lost in thought. If she were standing there naked in the high heels, a strand of pearls hanging around her slender neck, he just might possibly latch his mouth onto her and brand her.
He smiled a slow, easy grin. “I might.”
She gave him a full pouty smile. One he wanted to kiss right off her face. “You wish.”
She didn’t know how true her statement really was but Max wasn’t ready to share that fact.
“So, you’re the hired muscle.” She crossed her tiny feet with blood-red polished toenails and propped one elbow against the back of the couch.
Max turned his attention to the third button of her blouse, the one no longer fastened. The same one that revealed a flash of red lace. Hell’s bells. What was with this woman and her lingerie? Then again, the lingerie was just a front. His first-hand knowledge of what rested beneath the lacey disguise shaped his thinking at this very point in time.
When her fingers pushed the button back through the slot, he raised his eyes. “Yeah.”
He waited for her to blast him for ogling her. Instead, she continued their conversation as if she didn’t even notice.
“Don’t worry, this place is a fortress.”
“Really.” Max refocused his attention. “Security didn’t even budge when we came up.”
She didn’t appear surprised by his accusation. “Rachel cleared you. Besides, security makes allowances for her clients. They assume there is a bodyguard in tow.”
“What about cameras?”
“We don’t have them in here, but the building is covered.”
“Are all the doors secured?”
She didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she studied her nails, as if bored with his interrogation. “You’re obsessed.”
“It’s my job.”
She narrowed her eyes until they resembled a Siamese cat on the prowl. “Is Hawke in some sort of danger?”
Max chuckled at her suspicion. She was sharp. “The only thing Hawke is in danger of are overzealous groupies.”
“You have nothing to worry about. Rachel is definitely not a groupie.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
He peered over the top of his glasses and waited for her to answer his unvoiced request for explanation.
Her cheeks actually pinkened but her gaze never wavered from his. “Desperate times, desperate measures, and all that jazz,” she mumbled.
***
Rachel motioned to a chair beside her desk then sat in her own. Hawke spun the chair around and straddled it.
“Would you like me to dim the lights?” she asked, her eyes twinkling in amusement.
He tilted his head in confusion.
“Your sunglasses,” she explained.
Hawke grinned at her humor and removed the glasses. “Ms. Newberry–“
Soft green eyes full of sincerity caressed his when she spoke. ”Rachel, please. After all, I think we’re past polite introductions.”
“Rachel then,” he amended. “You didn’t stick around last night.”
She studied him for a moment, then folded her hands and gave him a half smile. “Can we just pretend last night never happened?”
He paused to consider her question. Could she forget about the interaction between them? Crouched between his legs, her hands dangerously close to giving them both a night to remember didn’t even leave an impression?
“You really want to forget about that?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Most definitely. And I can honestly say I’ve never been in that position before.”
“I have,” he mumbled.
Rachel’s mouth dropped open and Hawke realized too late what had just slipped from his lips. Yet even in her state of shock, electricity crackled between them. Her soft, pale facial features taunted him, dared him to run his thumb across her full, pouty bottom lip. Her clear, emerald eyes reminded him of a prowling tigress and reached deep into his soul to steal his thoughts.
“Well,” She cleared her throat. “Tell me about your plans.”
Hawke forced his mind back on business. House plans. The reason she thinks I’m here. “I don’t really have anything in mind. I’m just in the market for real estate.”
“Since you’re here, I’m assuming that means you’re interested in building a house.”
“Yes.”
Rachel lowered her eyes and scribbled on a note pad. “Will you spend much time there?”
Every single hour of every single day if she were around. “A lot.”
Her head snapped to an upright position, as if she were startled by his admission. “You plan to live here?”
Hawke’s confidence rose a few points. He now had her full attention. “You’re surprised?”
“I assumed you spent most of your time working.”
“I’ve decided to slow down and pursue some other interests.”
Other interests like the sexy, young creature sitting across the desk from him. Her beauty held him hostage each time he looked at her, set him off kilter, and left him with a bad case of cottonmouth.
“What about real estate?” she continued. “Is there a particular area you’re interested in?”
“No, I haven’t had much time to check it out yet. Any ideas?”
“I design quite a few homes in Pacific Valley Heights.” She slid a colorful brochure across the desk. “The community is exclusive and expertly gated. If you’re interested, we need to make application quickly. The committee meets once a week.”
He gave her a playful wink. “Think I’ll pass inspection?”
“You won’t have any problems.”
He flipped through the brochure without really paying much attention then glanced back at her. “Do you live there?”
She pursed her lips. “No.”
Hawke shifted as he caught a note of avoidance in her tone.
“Where are you staying in the meantime?” she continued, pointedly changing the subject.
“I have a suite at Escondrijo Deserte.”
The beginning of a smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “Desert Hideaway. Very nice place. An appropriate camouflage for someone of your notoriety.”
Mesmerized by the warmth and silkiness of her voice, Hawke felt himself being sucked deep into a sea of desire. And he would kill the person who even thought to throw him a life preserver. “Have dinner with me.”
“What?” She gave him a blank stare, her eyes once again wide in amazement.
“Dinner. You do eat, right?” he teased.
“You want to have dinner with me,” she repeated slowly.
“Yes, Rachel, dinner.”
“Only dinner.”
For now. “Yes.”
Rachel tilted her head to one side as if trying to process his invitation. “Forgive me. It has been my experience that men like you tend to expect a little more than dinner.”
Hawke frowned. An insult? “Men like me?”
“Yeah, prominent, successful, used to getting what you want.”
If she even had half an idea of what he really wanted, she’d turn him down and run. “So, you’ll go?”
She smiled and shrugged. “Sure.” She pushed her paperwork to the side and stood to shoulder a handbag resting on the corner of the desk. “Somehow I don’t think you’d settle for McDonald’s, so I know a place. Maybe you’ll be more comfortable away from Cameron.”
“Is anyone comfortable around her?”
She giggled and he almost came undone. That one breathy little sound made his libido tap dance. “Cameron’s harmless,” she assured him. “A little overbearing but harmless. In fact, we work as a team. You’ve hired both of us. She’s a very talented interior designer.”
“Cameron?” Hawke slid his glasses back in place. Somehow he couldn’t picture her peacefully painting in a corner somewhere. “The same woman who slid past Max at the concert?”
Rachel frowned. “Max?”
“My security manager. The one sitting in your front office. Apparently you two met at the gate.”
Her cheeks turned bright red yet she managed to ignore his push for information and redirect the conversation. “Actually, you and Cameron could probably work out a trade.”
Hawke opened the door and motioned her through. “Trade?”
She nodded and reached around him to pull the door closed. “She has a major crush on your drummer.”
Hawke followed Rachel back into the lobby, relieved to see Max in one piece. That would’ve been hell to explain.
Max eased himself from the sofa. “Where to?”
“Dinner,” Hawke answered.
Cameron’s eyebrows climbed her forehead.
Rachel shrugged. “Would you like to join us, Cameron?”
Cameron grinned. “No thanks. You forget I have a warm, willing male waiting for me at home.”
“Suit yourself,” Max muttered just before he opened the front door.
Rachel frowned. “Who?”
Cameron folded her arms across her chest. “You know who.”
Rachel paused for a minute and tossed her hands in the air. “Of course! Maxwell,
your ca—”
“Have fun, Rachel.” Cameron stood from the couch. “And call me when you get home.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The ride to the restaurant was a true test in restraint for Hawke. Seated inches away from him, Rachel sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap. Meanwhile, he fisted his own hands in an attempt to keep them to himself. He swallowed another dose of irritation. Normally there would be a whole lot of touchy feely going on between them by now. Yet, she appeared relaxed and not the least bit interested in anything other than casual conversation.
“Romero’s is just up the next hill, Max,” she said into the silence.
Hawke turned to look out the window. Romero’s Elegancia sat at the top of a hill overlooking the sleepy desert below. The two-story, adobe building was the only structure in the area, surrounded on all four sides by a wooden fence. Tonight, bright moonlight bounced off the water feature in front, streaming a path to the front door where waiters in white evening jackets waited to greet each guest. Rachel was exactly right, this place wasn’t McDonald’s.
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