Jace, page 2
Smile in place, she walked into the hall to the sound of those fans that paid extra money for the backstage passes and meet and greet. “You know how to work the crowd, Jake?” she asked, emphasizing the name. His delicious grin told her he hadn’t missed it. “Now’s a good time to get some practice.”
Now that she’d led him into the lion’s den, he could fend for himself. With a wink, she let him go—but he followed closely—his scent still teasing her nostrils. Best to ignore him and focus on doing her job.
She enjoyed this part of it. This was what it was about—these people loved their music, loved them. Their enthusiasm was contagious and reassuring. As much as she’d like to deny it, she wanted to be liked, maybe even a little bit adored, the way her sister and brother were.
And Jace Black? Apparently, people knew who he was and, from the way they screamed his name, liked him.
If he wasn’t stealing her song, she’d have considered being a fan, too. But he was, so she wasn’t. Still, from that wicked grin to those beautiful eyes, there was a whole lot about Jace Black to like.
* * *
Don’t screw this up. Jace tore his gaze from Krystal King.
If he was smart, he’d hang back and watch the Kings work the room. He could only hope to handle a crowd like this with half their composure. When someone recognized him from Next Top American Voice, he got red-faced and tongue-tied. He wasn’t sure why he’d gone along with Krystal—he just had. And now? He sure as hell hadn’t expected to be recognized. Women were screaming his name, waving their cameras at him—some of them were crying. Crying?
It made him uncomfortable as hell. Here he was, blushing and stumbling over what to say, and these people knew his name, thought he was talented, wanted to touch him and get his autograph.
“Smile and wave,” his little sister, Heather, had told him. “Pretend like you’re having fun. Like you’re going fishing.” He wished she were here, poking fun at him, keeping him grounded. Since she wasn’t, he’d follow her advice. He leaned into the crowd and smiled at the dozens of phones snapping pictures.
He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to this. To him, it was overwhelming. Crazy. And “part of the job”—the Wheelhouse Records PR department had assured him.
Krystal’s husky laughter set the hair on the back of his neck upright. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her hugging a fan. The tenderness on her face was unexpected—and oh so real. He’d been warned about Krystal King. She was guarded. Check. Had a bit of a temper. Check. The spark in her green eyes confirmed that, too. No one had to tell him she was sexy as hell—he’d always known that. But nothing, nothing, had prepared him for how fiercely he’d respond to her.
To say he was attracted to the rebel King was an understatement.
But there was more to Krystal King than what the media, Wheelhouse Records, and his manager had to say. Anyone who could write the lyrics she did or create music that made him ache was more than cold and angry. Her music was her voice—weighted with real passion. The sort of emotion that had him wearing out Three Kings CDs in his old truck and singing along whenever one of their songs was on the radio. His favorite songs? The ones she wrote. Not only did he admire her music, but he admired how she handled the bad-girl persona and public character-bashing she was regularly subjected to. He never believed the tabloid headlines or talk show gossip, but if she was angry and guarded, she had plenty of reasons.
Was he one of them now?
The way she’d looked at him…he hadn’t been prepared for that. He couldn’t tell if she was all angry fire or sizzling from of a different kind of flame. Wishful thinking. There was no way someone like Krystal King was interested in him. All he knew was looking at her too long had him burning in a way that set warning flares off in his brain. Watching her now, blond hair hanging down her back and the fringes of her black minidress swinging around a pair of long, toned golden legs, had him wishing. Hard.
Bad idea. Don’t screw this up.
“Jace.” A woman grabbed his hand. “I love you. Your voice is perfect.” Her cheeks were flushed. “You’re perfect. I voted for you every night.”
“I appreciate that. But I’m not perfect,” he said, smiling. “I can promise you that.”
“You are. You are. And I love you,” the woman insisted, her grip tightening.
“And he loves you, too. You have to share him with the rest of us,” Travis King, the only male member of the Three Kings, gently pried the woman’s hand loose. “But he’s real glad you came out to meet him. Got something for him to sign?”
The woman nodded and offered him a poster of the Three Kings. He glanced at Travis and signed the corner, feeling like a fraud. He handed it back, smiled, and moved on. “Thanks,” he murmured to Travis.
“Clingers are hard,” Travis said, signing and talking and not missing a step. “One woman jumped over the tape and into my arms. She was no lightweight, either. Pulled a muscle in my back and had to get one of them to help her back onto the other side of the tape.”
Jace looked in the direction of Travis’s nod. Three men and one woman wearing “King’s Guard” shirts. Clever. “Security?” he asked, smiling in spite of himself.
“Always,” he said. “I hear my sister roped you into sticking around?”
“Not sure how it happened,” Jace confessed.
“Krystal has a way of getting what she wants.” Travis laughed. “Come on, take a break in the greenroom. Then it’s time for group pics and hanging with the money.” He led Jace down the hall, all the while smiling and waving.
Krystal joined them, no sign of her earlier tension present. She sort of…glowed, happy and excited. “You two stand together too long and we might have a riot on our hands.”
Was that a compliment? It sure as hell sounded like one.
“Just own it, man. Own it and enjoy every minute.” Travis grinned. “You’ll never have to sleep alone again.”
“Travis, there are times I’m ashamed to call you my brother.” Clearly, she didn’t appreciate her brother’s attitude. By the time they entered what resembled a small conference room, Krystal was back to being tense and quiet.
One wall was lined with mirrors and floor-to-ceiling folding screens. Jace was blindsided by the photographs hanging on the wall just inside. He wandered, reading autographs and shaking his head at the impressive display of talent that had visited the Chesapeake Energy Arena before him. Willie Nelson. John Connelly. Loretta Lynn. And a smiling, younger Hank King. Here he was, a west Texas roughneck, surrounded by reminders of everything he wasn’t. Sooner or later, the rest of the world would snap out of it and he’d be back on the grasshoppers, drilling for oil from dawn till dusk.
Might as well enjoy it.
On the opposite wall, a long table was covered with trays of pastries, fruit, and cheese. He almost took pictures for Heather—almost. She’d love to see this—the fancy sparkling water bottles in large glass bowls full of ice. Above that, three large televisions played, muted. The room and its occupants seemed to be on fast-forward, while he was stuck in slow motion.
He shook his hands out and did his best not to stand out.
His manager, Luke, was waiting with Mr. Zamora, looking almost as nervous as he felt. Jace had taken a gamble hiring him, but Luke had grown up in the business and knew all the right people. Like CiCi King. He had no idea Luke’s mother and Hank King’s wife played bunco together, but he suspected that was how he’d ended up here. His voice was only part of it—having the right connections sealed the deal. Still, standing against the wall as the room filled with the chart-breaking, award-winning King family and the entourage that cared for them had his insecurities kicking in. Sure he sang some, for himself—or at the bar in town. But he had nothing, nothing, like the talent in this room.
Sure, they talked and laughed just like normal folk—but there was nothing normal about these people. He didn’t belong here. This was not his life. This wasn’t real; it couldn’t be.
It didn’t help that Krystal kept glancing his way. Even standing there, talking to her brother, she radiated a sort of defiance that was hard to ignore. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to ignore her. He’d prop himself up right here, against the wall, and look his fill if he could. No woman should look this beautiful in real life. But she was.
Her eyes narrowed, the slight tilt of her chin baiting him. Damn it all, he couldn’t help it—he winked at her. And saw vibrant color bloom in her cheeks.
“Jace?” Luke waved him over.
Probably a better idea than staring at Krystal. With a sigh, he joined Luke. “What happens now?” His ears were buzzing from the noise of the crowd and the concert earlier.
“Hydrate, snack, relax until the Kings say it’s go time,” Steve Zamora said, tossing him a water bottle. “Through those doors, the big spenders are waiting. The kids mingle, rub elbows with the power-players or their die-hard fans, take pictures, then make their getaway. Thirty minutes, more if you’re having a good time. Just waiting on Emmy.”
“As always,” Travis sounded off.
“I’m here, Travis, be nice.” Emmy Lou King made her entrance. There was no other word for it. She sort of glided into the room, drawing every eye her way.
“You shake everyone’s hand, Sis?” Travis asked, making a show of checking his nonexistent watch.
“Course you did, darlin’.” Hank King draped an arm around his daughter’s shoulders and steered her his way. “Emmy, this is Jace. Jace, Emmy. He’ll be singing a duet on the next album.”
Just when he thought he was getting a handle on things, he was knocked for another loop. First, he was standing in the room with a man he’d grown up idolizing—he’d stomped around in his daddy’s boots and hat singing Hank King songs until his parents had hollered for him to stop. Now he was shaking hands with the man. Meeting Krystal. Then Travis. And now the enormity of what was happening hit him. He was singing a duet with Emmy Lou King.
Hell no, this wasn’t his life.
“He’s new, so try not to dazzle him too much,” Travis said.
Jace chuckled. “Good to meet you, Miss King. Tonight has been…unreal.” He broke off, shaking his head. They’d grown up in the public eye, so they had no idea how surreal this all was.
“Daddy has that effect on people.” Emmy Lou did have an incredible smile.
Hank King looked at his daughter with true adoration. “I’m pretty sure he was talking about you three.”
“Or maybe he’s still thinking about the women crying over him. Oh, and the one holding on to him with a death grip. That gets to a man,” Travis said, biting into an apple.
He might be a little overwhelmed by all the introductions, but the thing that “got to him” the most tonight had nothing to do with his career and everything to do with a woman. Since he’d walked into Krystal’s dressing room and they’d locked eyes, he’d been trying to recover. That wasn’t what tonight should have been about. But, damn it all, he had no idea how to make it stop.
“We need to get you some security.” Luke frowned. “I’ll get on that now.” He was already typing something into his phone.
“The first time someone grabbed hold of me, I panicked,” Emmy said.
“You were sixteen. Being grabbed by a stranger at sixteen is panic worthy,” Krystal said. “Don’t let it get to you, Jace. Keep on smiling and, if it gets too intense, flag your guy over.”
His name had never sounded husky and sexy as hell until she’d said it. And she’d said it right this time. Jace. He cleared his throat and took a swig from his water bottle.
“Looks like you’ve already got your own fan base.” Hank scratched his temple. “I don’t know much about the show you won, but people seem to already know and love you. That’s a good thing.”
“Your sales are only as strong as your fan base,” Emmy Lou said. “They won’t buy you if they don’t love you.”
“Guess you all don’t have much to worry about,” he said. Three Kings were a fixture on the charts. And Emmy Lou King? She had an army of fans dedicated to her.
Emmy Lou shook her head. “I always worry. People are watching everything I do or say—it’s a lot of responsibility. I don’t want to mess that up.”
“That’s why people adore her.” Krystal’s gaze flicked his way. “She’s just as loyal to them as they are to her.”
Seeing the sisters side by side was a surprise. The sisters were identical twins, but he had no problem telling them apart. Krystal was in her signature black, tight and seductive. Emmy was in pale pink and white, lacy and flowing. But the attire wasn’t what did it. Maybe it was their mannerisms or their voices or the fact that one sister grabbed, and held, his interest.
Travis tossed his apple core into the trash. “And why she doesn’t have much of a social life.”
“Social life?” Krystal’s smile hardened. “Like you? I’m pretty sure taking groupies back to your place doesn’t count. Besides, they might not be a fan when the party is over.”
Jace did his best not to laugh, but damn, she was good. Even her father was laughing.
“Beware.” Travis leaned closer and pretended to whisper to him. “My sister has a razor-sharp tongue. Don’t get on her bad side.”
Jace had a sinking feeling he was already on her bad side—for reasons unknown.
“We really appreciate the time you’ve given us tonight, but we’ll be heading out.” Luke was shaking Steve Zamora’s hand. “We’ll wait for your call on the scheduling.”
“Monday morning, our Austin studio, nine a.m. Right, Hank?” Steve asked. “Let’s get this project in the works.”
Krystal missed a step, teetering enough so that she braced one hand on the wall. It wasn’t much—but it was enough for Jace. She didn’t want him singing her song. The look on her face only confirmed it. She really didn’t want him singing it. He had one choice: prove he’d do it right.
“Already set up,” Hank replied, nodding his goodbye and disappearing through the door.
“Jace?” Luke asked.
Jace nodded. “I’ll be there.”
Steve nodded and followed Emmy Lou through the door.
Krystal finished off her water bottle and turned to face him. Those eyes of hers were blazing. If he’d had time, he’d have tried to talk to her, to calm her fears. It was one of those songs—important, special. He’d damn well make sure anyone listening to it knew it, too.
The first time he’d read the lyrics, he’d been drawn in. After the soul-crushing loss he’d suffered three years ago, “Ashes of My Heart” said all the things he’d never been able to. While he thought Krystal’s soulful rasp was a better fit for the song than Emmy Lou, it wasn’t his call. Something told him Krystal wouldn’t care about his opinion of the lyrics or her voice. She’d think he was sucking up.
Still he couldn’t help himself. “Meeting you…well, tonight’s been my lucky night. I hope I’ll see you again.” And he meant it.
She shook her head. “Do you? Guess we’ll see, Jack.” Without another word, she followed her family into the next room.
Chapter 2
“Aw shit.” Krystal heard Travis about the same time she slammed into his back.
“Travis?” she asked, pushing against her brother’s back. “What’s wrong?”
He turned to face her, his hands on her shoulders. “I need you to keep it together. There are witnesses.” He shook his head. “Are you listening to me?”
“Not that you’re making a lick of sense.” She brushed his hands off her shoulders and walked around him, into the room of waiting VIPs. Now she needed to get her mind off Jace, his light brown eyes, and all the witty comebacks she should have tossed his way before leaving him tonight. Chances were she’d never see him again. She chewed on her lower lip, unexpectedly disappointed. No, it was good. Jace Black was bad news, period. She had no use for him.
Unless it was in the bedroom. She’d give him whatever he wanted there… Her body ached to do just that. Contrary to what the media said, she wasn’t the sort of girl to have a fling. Still—she blew out a slow breath—that man had kicked her long-dormant libido into overdrive. Every time his heavy-lidded gaze drifted her way, the temperature seemed a good ten degrees hotter, and it had nothing to do with the anger she’d hoped to hold on to.
Someone bumped into her, their murmured apology a reality check. Here she was, in the middle of a room full of people, imagining Jace Black in her bed? Talk about bad timing. As Emmy pointed out, these were the folks who shelled out a minimum of twenty-five hundred dollars for tickets and deserved their attention. For that low, low price, they got floor seats, free drinks and food, an autographed picture, a picture with the band, and a guaranteed thirty minutes of cocktails and socializing. Some were true fans, others were big-spending friends of their family or the record label.
Unfortunately, her mother was also there. Because her momma never missed an opportunity to collect information that might benefit her later. Krystal had no illusions when it came to her mother: CiCi King was not a nice person. The only thing her mother cared about was keeping Three Kings on the charts and the front page. If there was a way to get Three Kings more press, she was all for it. Her big eyes, bright smile, and charming laugh might have the rest of the world fooled—Krystal’s daddy included—but she knew the truth about the woman who’d birthed her.
That was one of the reasons she and her momma had a…strained relationship.
Travis hovered beside her. “You look way too calm. It’s freaking me out.”
What was wrong with him? Had her mother done something she didn’t know about yet? Worse than handing off her song, that is? Somehow, deep down, she knew her mother had had a hand in that.
