Chapter 11 Joz #2
The concierge met me at the entrance, and I was whisked up a private elevator to the penthouse suite.
A large basket of fruit sat on the coffee table, a white envelope sticking out of it.
After I assured the assigned staff member I didn’t need anything, I waited until the elevator doors closed, then strode to the basket and plucked the card from the plastic holder.
Welcome to NYC (again). I’ve booked us a table at Theo’s (my cousin’s restaurant) for 8pm. A car will pick you up at 7:30. Get some rest. A.
Was it stupid of me to get a little flutter in my chest that she’d signed it “A”? Yes, yes it was. Did I care that it probably meant nothing? Nope. A man could hope.
Four-thirty. That gave me a couple of hours to get some shut eye and still have time to shower and change. Leaving my luggage in the living room, I trudged into the bedroom, set the alarm on my watch for two hours, flopped onto the mattress, and promptly passed out.
My eyes were stuck together when the alarm sounded.
That couldn’t have been two hours. I rubbed them, squinting at my watch.
Six thirty-one. Fuck. It felt as though I’d been asleep for five minutes.
Groaning, I rolled off the bed and ambled into the bathroom.
A hot shower followed by a cold blast woke me up, and after I’d towel dried my hair, I drew it into a bun, tidied up my beard, and dressed in black jeans and a burgundy shirt.
I’d never done the suit thing, and I didn’t plan on starting now.
Besides, I looked fucking ridiculous in a jacket and tie.
At twenty-five past seven, I made my way down to the lobby. The same guy who dropped me off earlier raised a hand in greeting, then pivoted and walked outside. He had the rear car door open when I caught up to him.
“Thanks.”
“Of course, sir.”
I ducked my head, a broad grin splitting my face in two at who waited for me in the back of the car.
“A personal escort. I’m honored, Ms. Kingcaid.” I climbed inside. The driver shut the door, trapping us in the confined space together. Lucky fucking me.
“The hotel is on my way. How was your flight?”
“Boring. But my day is looking up.”
“You’re relentless.”
“Only for you.”
“You need fresh come-on lines.”
“Okay, how about this?” I reached for her hand, surprised and delighted when she didn’t pull away. “You smell incredible, you look good enough to eat, I am beyond ecstatic that I get to spend the next two evenings in your company, and I’ve fucking missed you.”
The lighting was far too dim to see if she blushed, but I told myself she did.
I ran my thumb over her knuckles. She let me caress her for a few seconds, then gently removed her hand from mine.
I called that progress. She’d made her position clear.
No pleasure, all business, but if she truly believed that, she wouldn’t have invited me to New York.
I could be wrong, but it sounded like an excuse to see me, especially as I wasn’t due in the studio for another few weeks.
“Presley is thrilled you’ve come all this way to see him play.”
“We both know that’s a lie, but if it makes the kid feel better, then I’m glad you said that to him. I’m looking forward to watching him onstage, but come on, Aspen, it’s you I’ve come to see.”
“Joz.” She sighed, swinging her hand between us. “This can’t go anywhere. I’m technically your boss.”
“And?”
“And that makes it inappropriate.”
“I agree that boss and subordinate relationships can be inappropriate, especially where the man is senior to the woman and there’s a power imbalance.
But that isn’t the case with us. For one, yes, you’re technically the one with the power, but it isn’t imbalanced.
If you tore up our contract tomorrow, it wouldn’t be the end of my career.
I’d just sign with someone else. It’s not like I’m short of offers. ”
“Charming.”
“But true. Look, will you answer one question for me?”
She narrowed her eyes in obvious suspicion. “I guess.”
“Do I repulse you? Physically, I mean.”
Her chest rose and fell on a deep breath. “No.”
“That’s a good start.” I grinned. “I like you, Aspen. I’m not over here suggesting marriage. I’m a confirmed bachelor, but I think we could have some fun together.”
“And when the fun ends?”
Caroline was the last long-term girlfriend I’d had.
Every woman I’d been with since had known there could be no future, that casual was all I could willingly offer.
As long as Aspen understood that, there’d be no risk here.
And Aspen was no Caroline. She was a strong, independent woman who would never allow a relationship with a man to define her.
“We’re both adults. I certainly wouldn’t let a brief affair that ran its course interfere with our business relationship, and something tells me you’re the same as me.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. I wanted to do that so badly, I bit my own lip to stop myself from kissing the fuck out of her.
“If I say no, will you drop this continuous flirting and accept my decision?”
“Yes. I won’t pretend to like it, but if you say no and mean it, I’ll back off.
I’m not in the habit of chasing women when they’ve given me a clear no.
I tell my sister this all the time. No is a complete sentence, nothing further needed.
Although you have to mean it, Aspen. Call it intuition, experience, or whatever you like, but I think you like me, and the only thing stopping you from pursuing this attraction between us is this set of rules you’ve decided you need in order to be taken seriously in what is, let’s face it, a misogynistic industry. ”
She angled her head to one side, and for the longest time she said nothing, her gaze somewhere over my right shoulder. I let her sit with what I’d said, unsure if I was way off the mark or right on the money.
“Thank you,” she eventually said, her voice so soft, I barely heard her over the noise of the engine and the tires on the asphalt.
“What for?”
“That.” Her hand did a lazy whirl in my direction.
“I’d say you’re welcome, but I’ll pass until I know whether I’ve just shot myself in the foot.”
Her lips quirked up. “You are nothing like I thought you’d be.”
“And what did you think?”
“Oh, you know.” Another flick of her wrist. “A bit like I accused you of being when we first met. A bit like almost every star I’ve ever come across.”
“A prat?”
She laughed, her eyes crinkling around the edges. “Yes, a prat. God, I love how the English speak. You have so many more descriptive words than American’s, especially curse words.”
“That’s why we write the best music.”
She arched a brow. “And have the biggest egos.”
“Guilty and proud.”
The car came to a stop outside the restaurant. A flashy sign above the door read: Theo’s. Aspen unclipped her seat belt and gripped the door handle.
“Wait.” I touched her arm. “You haven’t given me an answer.”
A mischievous expression crossed her face, and she dipped her chin. “I know.” Climbing out of the car, she ducked her head back inside. “Coming?”
“I wish,” I muttered, following her onto the pavement. She slid her hand into the crook of my elbow and gazed up at me.
“Then, you’d better be a good boy, hadn’t you?”
I groaned, my dick getting immediately all too excited for a classy joint like this one. This woman was going to be the death of me.