Her Rock Star Friends, page 7
“The kitchen island is fine,” I said. I turned to set the rice on the island when Rory collided with me with plates in hand. The bowl flew out of my hand and glanced off my foot.
“Damn-it!” I said hopping as pain shot through me.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said.
“Not your fault.”
“Here sit down, let me look at it.”
I sat at one of the kitchen stools because the darn foot hurt like a bitch. And my one thought was I couldn’t wear spiked heels to the office for quite a while.
Rory gently pulled the mule from my injured foot.
“Ooh,” he said with sympathy. “It hit the side but missed the toes. You’re lucky. But you should put it up, so it doesn’t swell too badly. You need some ice too.”
“I’ll just sit here. I’ll be fine.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “Can you flex your foot, or should we take you to the hospital for x-rays?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine.”
“You keep saying that, but you’re injured. Don’t take things lightly as your father does, or you will end up in trouble too. And we need you too badly for that to happen.”
“You do?”
“Here,” he said in a no-nonsense tone. Rory slipped one arm under my arm and another under my knees and lifted me effortlessly.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you to the living room so you can put your feet up. And yes, we do need you. My idiot friends only behave when you are around.”
“They didn’t today.”
“Trust me. That was mild compared to other things I’ve seen. And what happened in Angelo’s? The usual nonsense, only this time it was public.”
“I didn’t know.”
With a few steps, he took me to the living room faced with floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the pool, the extended deck and the Hollywood hills beyond. Rory set me down gently.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he said.
“Don’t worry.”
He disappeared back into the kitchen and brought back ice wrapped in a kitchen towel, a plate of food and a glass of ice tea.
“Here,” he said as he placed the food and drink on the table. He sat at the end of the sofa and lifted my foot.
“You might not need that ice after all. Is it still tender?”
“Not like it was.”
“I think your shoes saved you from the worst of it. Here.”
Gently, slowly, he stroked my sore foot between his strong hands.
“How does that feel?” he said.
“Good,” I admit.
He massaged not just the injured foot but the other too, spreading calm throughout my body. And I had to admit, my feet between his thighs sent effervescent sensations through me. My head fell back as I imagined this gentle giant messaging other things as well. In my illicit imaginings, Rory massaged my thighs and worked upward. A groan escaped my lips.
“You okay?”
“You’re good at this.”
“Shiatsu massage. I have it done after the shows. Reduces the stress of touring.”
“I’m going to call you Mr. Magic Hands.”
“Oh, so you think that was good?”
He lowered my feet. My mind protested the loss of his hands.
“Sit up.”
In my relaxed state, I almost couldn’t, but he helped me and then settled behind me. Without a sound he started working my shoulders, loosening them with his skillful touch. His fingers wandered up my neck.
“You are tight. It’s a wonder you don’t have headaches.”
Rory’s ministrations made me light and floaty. I relaxed into him. So much so, that it wasn’t until he shifted that I felt his hard cock pressing into my back.
He drew in a sharp breath.
“You are so sexy,” he whispered into my ear.
I am going to Hell because I can’t stop thinking sexy thoughts about my clients. All they have to do is manhandle me a little bit, and I’m ready to go all the way. But right now, the front of the red duster pooled on either side and Rory is kneading my breasts with his hand. His touch is divine, and I’m in heaven. Both hands now command my nipples, and I arch my back in response. Can you come from a breast massage? I just might.
The place between my legs throbs against my too tight jeans and I thrust my hips forward seeking friction. Rory’s hands kicked up the simmering sexual frustration of the past few days, and dear Lord I need it. Now. I want a man’s cock between my legs, and damn it, if Rory Holmes will give me his, I will take it. I twist my head toward his offering my lips, and he lowered his head.
The doorbell sounds, startling both of us.
“What the hell,” I roared. “What is it now?”
“Don’t answer,” said Rory.
And at first I’m tempted, but then someone pounds on the door with the force of a battering ram.
“I’ll make whoever it is go away,” I said. Pushing away from the couch, I stalked to the front door and peeked at the security screen there.
What the—? Cole Kane pounded on the door, and shockingly, Jersey Dys exited a black Jaguar, and then lastly, Tobias stepped out of his gray Aston Martin Vanquish.
“Holmes, you bastard,” said Cole. “Get the hell out here.”
CHAPTER TEN
Tobias
I dropped off Kane who promptly got into his vehicle and tore out of his garage like a man possessed. If he were going after Dys, this would not end well. All of Jacine’s hard work would burn away into the smog-filled LA air, leaving Alexander and Wells the laughing stock of LA.
I heard what my friend at the company who books the Bowl act said. The whole thing at Angelo’s made for interesting press, but the only people who benefited were the newspapers. Rock stars were known to be volatile, and a certain amount of mischief was considered colorful. But playing the public at large at risk? That made any band a bad bet.
And Jacine had three of them on her hands.
Something wasn’t right, though. Kane wasn’t heading to Dys's house. And as we traveled the torturous curves of the roads of the Hollywood Hills, I finally realized where we were headed.
Jacine’s.
This was outrageous. What did he hope to accomplish there? I notice him standing too close to Jacine, but then again, she was just that beautiful.
But the fight with Dys was over-the-top. And now he headed into more trouble.
I swear. If he did anything to upset Jacine, I’ll pound him into the ground.
But even more incredible is the fact that another car sits in the driveway, a god damn red Ferrari, the one that Rory Holmes drove. What the hell was Rory doing here?
Stepping out of my car, I hear Kane knocking on the door and shouting for Holmes to come out of the house. Dys stood to the side looking equal parts amused and pissed, though I don’t know why.
The door jerked open, and an incredulous Jacine stood framed in the doorway, and Kane stepped forward. She was one woman facing two guys not known for their emotional stability and my long-buried protective instincts surged, and I tore down that driveway to the two men.
I skidded forward on the white gravel when I heard her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Holmes,” called Kane.
“Cole! Stop this.”
“Don’t be like this, baby. You don’t know this snake as I do. Did he pull the massage the feet thing on you?”
“Baby?” sputtered Dys.
Kane glanced over his shoulder.
“Sure. In case you haven’t noticed this woman is fine.”
“Oh, I noticed, asshole. So stay away.”
“Me? I’m here first.”
Jacine stared at both of them in disbelief and raked her silky hair with her hands.
“What the fuck?” said Holmes as he came to stand behind Jacine.
“You!” said Kane shaking his finger at Holmes. “Get the fuck out here and keep your hands off her.”
Holmes's eyes blazed with anger. “And who are you to say anything about it?”
A sick feeling swirls in my gut as I realize that Jacine is in the middle of a dangerous situation. These dickheads go off before the starting gun. And the stakes for Jacine were very high. The whole focus of her plan to rehabilitate the PR of these guys was to get them to co-operate on one project. In a town where one misstep meant millions in lost revenue, her failure would take a big chunk of the armor and cachet of Alexander and Wells.
Franklin would be furious. And that was the last thing my health-challenged friend or his overextended daughter needed.
I consider my moves, because as volatile as this situation is, I could make it worse by stepping in. Working with creatives I learned that the stress of having to perform 24-7, to present an image that might not match the inner man lends volatility to the public persona. Only Jersey, by his father’s long association with the PR firm, knows that I mean no harm.
But before I can decide anything, Jacine pulls up her five-foot, seven-inch frame and fire flashed through her eyes.
“All of you, get off my property now!”
I groan because this is not the way to treat three impetuous rock stars. She knows this, but I see the stress in her eyes too, and for the first time in my life I see Jacine Alexander unravel.
“But, sweetheart,” said Dys.
“Sweetheart?” protested Kane.
“Yeah, sweetheart. Want to make something of it?”
“Who the fuck cares!” snapped Jacine.
Holmes put his hands on Jacine’s shoulders, which was a mistake.
“Get your hands off me!” yelled Jacine. And though the scrub and trees of the hills usually sop up sounds, her high voice reverberated against the walls of the slopes of the Santa Monica Mountains.
I groan. There is a reason why you usually can hear a pin drop in the Hollywood Hills. It’s because the neighbors, sensitive to the star-studded antics of LA, keep things eerie quiet. You might hear traffic on the road, or the occasional barking of a dog, but otherwise, you would think you were in the middle of the country, which we were not.
It was suburbia. Oh, decidedly upscale, but Mr. And Mrs. America, just the same. Stars lived here on sufferance.
But do Kane, Dys, and Holmes recognize that? No. And before I know it Holmes pushed past Jacine and shoved Kane, who fell into Dys, who pushed him back into Holmes.
And that’s when the fight starts.
“Stop!” screamed Jacine, but that only made things worse. Giving lie to reports that LA police are slow, on this day within five minutes a police car pulls into the driveway flashing its lights.
It didn’t take long for our worse fears to manifest and the Terrible Trio, bruised, sweaty, and dirty were hauled off to the local lock-up.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jacine
Hell. I watched Cole, Jersey, and Rory cuffed and placed into police cruisers, and I watch my career drive away with them. Level-headed, Tobias put his arm around my shoulder.
“We’ll fix this.”
“Yeah, right,” I said. Never before in my life did I taste a defeat as bitter as this.
“Jacy,” he said. “If anyone could, you can.”
“This is all my fault,” I groan.
“How’s that?” he said gently. Tobias guided me back into the house, and it was good to have a sturdy shoulder I could lean against. I needed this calm, reliability, stability. Everything Tobias had to offer.
“They. I. Oh, I don’t know.” How can I explain that I crossed the line with not just one but all three of my clients? Sure, shenanigans like this were commonplace in Starland, but not at Alexander and Wells.
“Are you trying to tell me you think you led them on?”
Leave it to Tobias to get to the heart of the matter. I swallowed hard, not able to think a clear path out of this mess.
“Sweetheart,” he said. “These guys are used to getting whatever woman they want at the drop of a hat. The problem is, as I see it, no one got anything they wanted.”
“But I shouldn’t have—it was inappropriate—” I can’t even speak in complete sentences. “When the press—” My voice failed again. I am a grown woman, used to making multi-million dollar decisions and three overgrown teenagers have stolen my ability to think constructively.
Tobias lead me to the sofa, the scene of my last crime, and I groaned again. He kept his arm firmly around me and it was a comfort to have his strong and familiar shoulder to lean on.
“Jacy, these guys are the masters of inappropriate,” he said. “They knew what they were doing all along. The problem is, Princess, that they don’t know you. They don’t know how difficult relationships are for you since your mother left your father.”
Oh god. Not that again. But he was right. My world crashed and burned when my mother took off with an asshole movie producer. Her overdose at his hands was the icing on the cake. He got ten years in jail. I got a lifetime of doubting my choices in men because any boyfriend I had was just like that jerk—too much glitz and glamour. The words “just like your mother” didn’t play well with me because it held the possibility that I could fail as badly as her. So I had sworn off men and buried myself in my work. But apparently, the magic spell of duty and responsibility had melted under the glitter and tinsel of three rock stars; as it would have with my mother. And I knew better. I fucking did.
“But I should have—”
“Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve. You’ll get on the phone, call your team, and start the next round of spinning things.”
“But if they go to jail—”
“Might be the best thing for them. Maybe I’ll ask the judge to try them together and then ask for work release on the day of the concert. I can see it now. All three of them delivered to the Bowl in their LA county prison garb. We’ll call the concert “Work Release.”
The idea was so ridiculous I laughed through my incipient tears. But it was also genius. I could see the press releases now.
“You know what? That idea is so outrageous; it’s a winner. But it’s a misdemeanor charge, at best. They can’t get much time for it.”
“You’d be surprised. Up to a year in County Jail and a thousand dollar fine.”
“I should know that, damn it.”
“You are being too hard on yourself, Jacine. Your father is in the hospital and you took on three impossible clients.”
The scent of him, flannel wool and his woodsy cologne wafted in a comforting haze. He kissed the top of my head and instinctively I leaned into him. Tobias, handsome, strong, reliable Tobias held me and soothed away my fears. It was a damned hard couple of days and on top of that my sexual frustration threatened to send me over the edge. I could still feel Rory’s hands on my breasts performing magic on my body. The slightest touch of Tobias’s fingers on my thigh sent tingles through me that ignited my desire.
I made the slightest of gasps, and Tobias lowered his lips to mine. Every fantasy I ever had about Tobias flashed through my mind, how I wanted him to hold me and kiss me drove me to get closer to him. Shifting my body, I turn toward him and slipped my hand to his tie and tugged his head closer to mine.
With infinite tenderness, his lips touched mine. And yet, it was filled with such passion my mouth burned with the taste of his mouth. The bristles of his five o’clock shadow scraped my chin sparking a shower of tingles through me.
Tobias ran his fingers on either side of my head and held my mouth to his, kissing me with such tenderness that my heart thawed and opened up to him. This was beyond bodies touching or doing the right things to stoke desire. It was the sharing of two hearts and it took my breath away.
“Why,” he asked, “would you want any of those boys when you could have a real man?”
I gasped at his words. Why would I? Why wouldn’t I? Why not Tobias and not any of them? But I can’t answer. My mind jumbles with images of all four men, and to tell you the truth, they all stun me in their own way. They all had qualities I liked and admired, Cole’s romantic nature hidden under his balls-to-the-wall attitude, Jersey with his artistic sense, Rory’s pragmatic gentleness, and Tobias’s steadiness. Like a potato chip, I couldn’t have just one.
I was very confused.
My phone rang to save me from answering Tobias’s question and desperately I reached for it in the pocket of my duster.
