9. Maddie
9
MADDIE
Maddie froze in place, her heart beating a little faster as Brooks came up behind her. She turned to face him, slowly. When she’d looked for Cormac earlier today, her plan to find Brooks and raise hell with him seemed so solid. So justified.
Then she’d found him sitting on the dock looking so . . . normal.
Not Brooks “the rock star” Kent. Just a guy. Drinking a nonalcoholic beer. Which, unless he liked punishment, was a good sign he probably was five years sober because those things were terrible.
He’d even cracked the door about personal business that, if true, she probably shouldn’t have pried into. And then his sister and niece were here, and dammit if he didn’t seem like just another guy with a real life.
A gorgeous guy, at that, with a silky, velvet-toned voice that she’d listened to for hours at a time before.
She held his gaze as he came closer. “Is there a reason for this little visit tonight?”
The contract she’d printed and folded in an envelope in her purse seemed so ill-conceived.
Stop. Don’t chicken out. Just because he tells you a sob story and drinks a near-beer doesn’t make him a good person.
She’d spent enough hours reading up on his activities the past few years to make a solid judgment.
Raising her chin, Maddie gave him a fake smile. “I’ve come to make a deal with you.”
“A deal?” Brooks raised his brows.
Maddie gripped the strap of her purse tighter. “You have a lot more to lose if that news about the wreck gets out than I realized. And you’re not exactly trustworthy.”
His expression darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You can say whatever you want about your personal habits, but isn’t it true that you and your band were all busted in Vegas last winter at a party that got out of control? And that the model you were dating three years ago, Paulette Stevens, claimed you slapped her during an argument?”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember you being there to know the facts of either of those situations.”
“Still, it doesn’t look great when you get arrested for assault, then get out of jail and wreck your car into a store at four in the morning, does it? You owe me a favor for covering your ass.”
His jaw clenched so hard that she saw the muscles of his temples bulge. She almost backed away at his stare. “Follow me,” he snapped coolly, then turn and strode down the hall, not bothering to wait for her.
Shit.
He was clearly furious. If he was violent, putting herself in a vulnerable position alone with him wasn’t smart.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the deck. Logan was here. So was Cormac. Even if Cormac was Brooks’s friend, he’d step in and help her if she needed. And from the way Brooks had behaved around his niece, she doubted he’d do anything extreme with her around.
Swallowing her trepidation, she followed Brooks down the hallway. He slipped into a room with French doors and shut them behind him.
Maddie released a slow breath, then went into the room.
Brooks was over by an enormous bed in a decadent room with its own sitting area and balcony—this must be the primary bedroom.
He lifted a black duffel bag onto the comforter, then unzipped it, and fished out a black leather case. Without a glance at her, he opened the case and pulled out a pen. “How much do you want?”
“What?” She blinked at him, leaning back against the door.
“For your silence. How much?”
He was offering her a check?
She bit her lip. That look in his eyes was dead and cold, the simplicity of the business transaction making it clear that he’d be willing to pay well for her silence—and could afford it.
“I don’t want money,” she finally said, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “I don’t need your money. I need your . . . talent .”
He jerked his chin up, his gaze roving over her with spurious admiration. “I don’t put out in exchange for anything, sweetheart.”
Sex? Her eyes widened. Does he really think I’m asking for sex?
Had women tried to manipulate him into sex before?
She coughed back a startled laugh. “No. I’m not asking for that. ” A fresh wave of embarrassment trickled through her. “Our town is having a fair in a little less than a month. And someone like you would be normally impossible for us to book for the main stage. We can’t pay what you’re normally used to, I’m sure but?—”
“You’re seriously asking for a concert in exchange for your silence?” He flipped the check ledger onto the bed. He tilted his head, staring at her as though dumbfounded.
“You owe me, Brooks. And I need this because—” She paused. She wasn’t about to spill her guts out to Brooks about Josh and Gina and the whole stupid mess with River House. He didn’t care, and it wouldn’t likely influence him. “This would be great for our town. The fair is a huge deal, and we get people from the whole tristate, not to mention tourists. It would be well-attended.”
He continued to stare at her in disbelief. “You’re blackmailing me for a concert,” he repeated. “I don’t care how fucking attended it is.”
She sensed she should hurry before this got ugly. Reaching into her purse, she grabbed an envelope. “This is a contract I drew up. It assures I’ll be quiet, that you’ll pay for the damages, and that you’ll do the concert. My dad is a lawyer, so I know a thing or two about contracts and?—”
“Leave it on the bed, then get the fuck out of this house.”
Her breath caught. She hadn’t really planned on staying for dinner, but the way he was dismissing her was rude. Not that she didn’t probably deserve it. What did this mean, though? He wouldn’t make a deal with her? The image of him ripping up the contract as soon as she left floated through her imagination.
She avoided his gaze as she edged closer to the bed, then set the envelope down.
Brooks didn’t move, every muscle under his shirt taut as he stared at her with feral, intense scrutiny.
She turned and started back toward the door.
“Wait.”
Looking over her shoulder, she met that burning gaze of his.
“Come back tomorrow. Noon. Sharp. I’ll give you an answer then.”