The Extravagant Collection, page 4
I sink down at the table, stretch out my legs, and spread my arms across the back of the booth, my well-worn T-shirt riding up a bit. As I settle in, the server appears.
“What can I get for you, sir?” the man asks. “On the house, of course.”
“In that case, a sixty-year-old Macallan would be fantastic.”
Ivy flashes a smile. “If that’s what you want, you should have it.”
I laugh. “Just kidding. I’ll take a Macallan on the rocks.”
The man says he’ll be right back, and thirty seconds later, he is. I give Ivy an approving nod. “Consider me insanely impressed. I see you have the best service.”
“We do indeed,” she says.
I lift my glass and offer a toast. “To old friends and new ones.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Callum says.
He clinks back, and Ivy does the same.
I knock back some of the scotch, savoring the taste, wiggling my brows as my taste buds thank me.
“How long are you in town for?” Ivy asks.
I flap my arms like wings. “I take off tomorrow morning.” I drop my voice to a whisper. “I’m staying at the Bellagio tonight.”
She narrows her eyes, making a playful growl. “No, you’re not. Stay here. I’ll arrange for our best suite. It would be my pleasure.”
I grin. “I won’t say no to that.”
“Good. And what brings you to town?”
I inch closer. “Truth?”
“Is the truth interesting?” Ivy asks, keeping up the volley easily.
Callum laughs. “Is it truth, or is it fiction? You never know with this guy.”
I heave a dramatic sigh. “I came to town for my grandma’s birthday party. An epic eightieth birthday party, and it was incredible. Now I’m here tonight with one mission and one mission only.”
“To agree to a one-night-only show here at my hotel?” Ivy asks, and I blink. Because hot damn. This woman goes for it.
But I was not expecting that.
“I hope it doesn’t bother you that I asked, but I know it’d be great for both of us,” she says.
“And I hope it doesn’t bother you that I invited Ivy along so she could ask, but I know nothing bothers you,” Callum says with a smile.
I stretch my arms out wide. “I am the definition of chill. Nothing gets to me,” I say, though that’s not true. Not making music is the one thing that always bothers me. Struggling with creativity hurts my soul. But I’ve turned a corner, and I’m nearly done with my next album—which is why Ivy’s question intrigues me.
“So, what do you think, Stone? Because I’d like to make you an offer you can’t refuse,” she says.
I whistle, then smack Callum. “No wonder you’re hot for her, Cal. She just lays it on the line.”
“Stone,” he grumbles. “Really?”
I scoff, toss back some more scotch, then set down the glass. “As if she doesn’t know.” I sit up straight and meet the blonde beauty’s gaze. “Ivy, you can tell, can’t you?”
“Tell what?” Her question is ever so innocent.
I turn to Callum, shaking my head. “You should just kiss her. It’d make everything easier.”
He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Why did I invite you over here?”
I cross my arms, egging him on. “Yes, why did you?”
“I believe it was to convince you to say yes to a show here,” he says, his tone serious now as he leans forward, elbows on the table. “Ivy has something fantastic planned for The Extravagant’s reboot. And when she mentioned you’re the musician she wants most to kick it off, I said I’d do everything I could to get you to say yes.”
Since he’s being earnest, I zoom in on the details. “I’m listening,” I say and zero in on the woman of the hour.
She straightens her shoulders, taking a breath. “My parents passed away a few years ago.”
My heart lurches for her. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. But truth be told, it was hard before then. My father was battling cancer, and my mother was taking care of him. So, their attention understandably lagged. We lost focus here at the hotel. We didn’t upgrade. We didn’t devote our resources to it. Our concentration was on my father. And all the care he needed took a toll on my mother too. She had a stroke a few months after he passed away.”
“Oh, Ivy. I’m terribly sorry.”
“Thank you.” She swipes a hand under her eye. “I’m not saying this so you’ll feel sorry for me. But I want you to understand what this place means to me. They left the hotel—well, all the hotels—to my sister and me. This is the one we grew up in, though, and this is our home. It needed work, and we decided to renovate. To take on all the changes we knew our parents had wanted to tackle. I’m so proud of The Extravagant now, and thrilled with the new look. To kick it off, we want to throw a series of one-night-only concerts. I love ‘Make It Last.’ It got me through so many hard times, and to have you sing it would be a dream come true.”
My heart squeezes. Hell, I want to say yes. I want to be the guy to help her out. But the media’s been hounding me about my next album. And I need to make sure this will be positioned the way I want.
“I want to say yes, but you know what the media will say. They’ll frame it as my comeback. But hell, I never left. The muse just takes time.”
“Then let’s not frame it as a comeback.”
“I don’t know how it would be viewed any other way. And the rub of it all is this—I have plenty of new material. I just want to control the message. I want it to be about the music, not about me.”
“So, you’re keen on it?” she asks, and her voice is laced with excitement.
Truth be told, I’m more keen than I expected. But I also sense an opportunity. To help out a friend.
I slide right back into shit-stirrer mode. I arch a brow and lick my lips. Then I look at my bud. “I bet if I agreed to play here, she’d kiss you.”
I let that tantalizing little nugget fall on the table.
Just to see if they’ll pick it up.
Maybe I’m an asshole.
But I can read this guy. I can tell how he feels about his client from the things he’s said over the last year, how protective he is of her, how much he admires her, and how he wants to keep her safe.
I know where he’s at.
And I know, too, since he’s a guy with lines, a guy with rules, that he won’t cross them unless he gets a kick in the pants.
It just so happens I give excellent kicks in the pants.
Ivy shoots me an oh no you didn’t stare. “Are you actually making me the stakes in a bet?”
Have I offended her? Oops.
“Seriously. What the hell, Stone? That shit isn’t cool,” Callum says, but his gruff tone seems to excite Ivy. She nibbles on her lips, looking at Callum, and he stares back at her like the world is on fire and he doesn’t care.
I lean back in the booth, cross my arms, and wait for these two to see what’s in front of my eyes.
5
IVY
I’m not going to be a plaything. I haven’t built my reputation as a businesswoman on being a pawn in a man’s game.
I won’t kiss for a deal, no matter how much I want Stone to perform, and no matter how devil-may-care charming the rocker may be. I won’t be waylaid by games. This is business.
I swallow the rest of my drink, focusing on the steel heart my parents instilled in me. “Stone. I appreciate the cupid in you. It’s adorable.” I slide into full-on hotelier mode. “But let’s talk about this as a win-win for both of us. I love your music. I always have. And I hear you when you say this wouldn’t be a comeback. I get that, I respect that. You don’t need to relaunch. But The Extravagant does.” My tone stays intensely serious. “I would frame it as our comeback. Not yours. This hotel needed a change, so we took it on. And this is how I want to let the world know we’re back in business. By bringing one of the most talented musicians in the world to our stage.”
Stone scratches his jaw. “So you wouldn’t bill it as my return or anything?”
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
For a few seconds, nerves flicker across his green eyes, maybe even vulnerability. And in that instant, I can see the naked poet’s soul in him. I can see that he masks some hurt, some fears, with his swagger and his million-dollar smile, with his ink and the wild lifestyle I’ve read so much about in the tabloids.
“Are you sure?” He sounds so young when he asks, and Callum leans in closer, as if he’s protective of this man. “People say it is. When I saw my dad, he said I need a comeback. That I took too long doing nothing. He never understands.”
Curling a hand over his shoulder, Callum shakes his head, his tone intense. “He’s wrong. And don’t you ever forget that you did what you needed to do these last few years. You needed inspiration. You took your time. You traveled the world. Hell, you gave a ton of money away to orphanages in the cities you visited. You’re a good man. Your dad is wrong and always has been.” Callum raps his fist on his friend’s sternum, and the tenderness, the protectiveness, between them tugs on my heart. “You’ve got it.”
A lump forms in my throat. I love seeing this reassuring friend side of Callum.
As if I need another reason to be drawn to him.
But there it is.
“Thanks, Cal,” Stone says under his breath. “I need you, man.”
“I know. And I’m always here for you. And now my friend needs you,” Callum says, simple and direct. “Ivy needs you.”
That’s my cue. “I’m a marketer, Stone. I’m good at this—at presenting complicated situations in a positive light. I will position your concert as a comeback for the hotel. You are simply the man whose legendary performance here will become part of the tapestry of ‘Can you imagine being there when that happened?’ And that will be amazing. You will be able to help us return this hotel to what it once was. And I have no doubt your performance will be talked about for years to come.”
Stone nods several times, as if he likes the sound of all of that. “People will whisper about where they were when...”
“They will,” Callum says, his voice strong and confident.
Stone inhales deeply. “Well, I like the sound of that.” He offers a hand to shake. “I’m in.”
A burst of happiness zips through my body. I reach across the table, hug Stone, and then hug Callum, because I’m so damn thrilled. This is what I need. I embrace him tightly, wanting to share my enthusiasm as I wrap my arms tighter around him, my breasts pressed against his firm, hard chest.
I’m so near to his face, so deliciously near, I can smell Callum’s aftershave, and it drives me wild. So wild, in fact, that I do something I rarely fantasize about. In my dirty dreams, I never make the first move.
But tonight, I do. Maybe it’s the Long-Distance Lover. Maybe it’s the deal making.
Or perhaps it’s simply gratitude meets friendship.
I kiss him. A soft thank-you kiss.
At least that’s how I intend it.
I pull back, wishing I had a legitimate reason to keep going. But as delicious as the kiss was, I can’t push it, no matter what Stone thinks he knows about Callum’s wants. A man needs to put his own wants on the table.
But as I break the contact, Callum makes a growling sound in his throat, masculine and carnal. In a flash, his palm curls around my neck, under my hair, and he tugs me back to him.
Oh, my.
Oh, holy hell.
I definitely didn’t expect him to kick it up several notches, but he has.
Oh hell, has he ever.
Because there’s nothing soft about how he kisses me back.
It’s not a gratitude kiss. There are no pleases and thank yous in the way his lips touch mine. This is an I want you kiss. A get your lips on mine kiss.
He’s making his wants known loudly as he seizes my lips, taking it in a whole new direction. He’s hard and fierce, and his stubble rubs against my cheek, and in seconds, he’s kissing me roughly and passionately.
As Stone watches.
Something about that excites me desperately.
The idea of someone watching us sends a rush of pleasure down my chest, right between my legs. The idea of my private life being seen, even by one other person, is a wicked thrill. One I’ve never indulged in. A thrill I know I shouldn’t enjoy so much, but I do. Oh hell, do I.
When I break the kiss, I swear I don’t know where I am.
What I’m doing.
All I know is this—I need.
I need Callum.
I need him tonight.
I’m woozy and lust-struck. My knees buckle and I’m not even standing. I’m ions and atoms and electricity.
And desire. Most of all, I’m comprised of desire.
“Looks like my work here is done,” Stone says with a supremely satisfied grin. He stands and plants a kiss on my cheek. Then he claps his friend on the back. I’m still in a kiss-fueled haze.
“You’re leaving?” I ask, breathing a little harder than usual. “I thought you two were hanging out.”
“I am leaving, because I can see you have unfinished business.” Then he swaggers out of the bar.
I look to Callum, still buzzed on his kiss, his eyes full of heat.
“I’ll take you to your suite,” he says, sliding a hand around my back as I rise.
He keeps his hand there the whole time as we leave the bar, walk through the hallway, and head for the elevator banks. I enter the private key code that’ll take us to my floor.
When the doors close, his hand slides lower, then lower still.
This night is heading in a whole new direction.
Or maybe it’s always been hurtling down this path.
6
CALLUM
There are rules you follow. Rules you bend. And ironclad rules you never break.
This ought to be one of them.
Do. Not. Touch.
Hell, it’s the golden rule of my job.
Don’t get too close. Don’t compromise your client. And definitely don’t fall in love.
My father taught me the value of rules. Instilled them in me from his years in the military.
Protect, serve, obey.
That’s what I’ve done, first for my country, now for my business. A business I’m damn proud of. A business that counts many employees—men and women whose jobs I’m responsible for.
Whose bills I help pay by being a professional.
Ivy is my job.
She’s not my pleasure. She’s not my woman. This can’t be personal. I need to remember that.
Except looking out for Ivy has always felt personal from day one. From the second I heard the story of her stalker, all I could think was Not on my watch. No way would I let a stalker through. Never.
It was personal, the need to protect her.
And it was personal as soon as I laid eyes on her. It wasn’t simply instant attraction with Ivy. It was that and more—an instant instinct. A need to keep her safe.
That’s what I’ve done every damn night for the last year.
And every damn night for the last year, I’ve gotten to know this gorgeous, brilliant, bighearted woman who cares for the people in her life—all of them.
Every night I want her more. Every single night I care more deeply for her.
She’s become more than a job.
Trouble is, she is the job, and sooner or later, my desire for her is going to get in the way.
Maybe I need to get her out of my system so I can go back to her being part of my routine instead of a fascination.
Perhaps the do not touch rule needs to be bent so I can go back to only doing what I’ve been hired to do—keep her safe.
The doors of the elevator slide shut with a soft ding.
We’re ensconced in the cool quiet of the car whisking us up, and we’re silent, but the air is laced with unsaid questions. I clench my jaw, my emotions warring with my judgment. My need fights with my professionalism.
Somewhere between the seventh and eighth floors, the scent of her perfume wafts past my nose.
Jasmine.
It undoes me every time.
Every single time.
I close my eyes, try to bite back this desire, but the desire is too strong. Only Stone could rattle it loose in thirty minutes with that fast mouth of his, with those words. No wonder you’re hot for her.
But I can’t blame him. He’s not the one who kissed her. He’s not the one who hauled her close and took her mouth. That’s on me.
My desire for her has a heartbeat, a life force. It’s a palpable, living thing.
The only way to deal with it is to face it.
I stare at our reflection in the mirrored doors, her eyes meeting mine in the brushed metal. In that reflection I see not just bodyguard and client, but man and woman, separate from the job.
That’s how I have to see us right now, and as I do, desire wins. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?” I rasp out.
A gust of air seems to pass her lips.
“How much?” she asks, in a voice that sounds like honey and whiskey. I want to swallow all the sweetness, feel all the heat.
“So much I can’t breathe right now.”
In a whisper that’s seductive and sensual, like a dirty invitation, she says, “So breathe me in.”
She shifts, turning on her heel. When she moves, I do too.
In less than a second, I back her up against the elevator wall, cup her cheeks, and look into her gorgeous blue eyes.
I can stop this madness right now.
I can resist her and return to the way we were.
But what was that? Friends, confidantes, business associates? We’re already more than client and bodyguard.
We are blurred lines and danger.
And this—contact—is how I get clarity.
One touch. One taste. One night.
There is a line.
There is absolutely a line.
