Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Since I was new to the PR firm, the band was my only assignment and all my time and energy was dedicated to them.
I was able to focus solely on them and help make their careers soar.
And boy, did I work my tail off to make that happen.
By the second week, they had several radio and TV interviews lined up during the upcoming month.
By week three, they were booked for a live performance on one of the biggest morning shows in the country, and their first album was seeing sales like they hadn’t experienced.
Their visibility had grown exponentially and people were starting to take notice.
For the entire first month, I tried to avoid Eric as much as I could, which wasn’t nearly often enough.
Luckily, I was rarely ever alone with him.
Both of us were so busy making preparations and trying to keep the band members out of trouble, we mostly saw each other in passing or when we had to attend brief meetings with other members of our team present.
Even then, the sexual tension between us was palpable.
I just hoped nobody else noticed. Thankfully we mainly communicated via text or email and had very little time for face-to-face conversation.
Until the album release party.
Kylie Harper was quickly becoming country music’s new “it” girl and was co-headlining the tour with our band.
Her new album had just dropped and was heading straight for the top of the charts.
Tonight was the album release party and the label was hosting a small, intimate event with some of Nashville’s elite in attendance.
The clout was good for the band. Kylie would bring more fans out to the shows, garnering more exposure for the guys.
“For someone whose main focus is getting her clients noticed, you try awfully hard to blend in with the crowd.” Eric’s deep voice and hot breath on the back of my neck sent shivers down my body.
I hastily chewed the chocolate covered strawberry I’d just popped into my mouth and swallowed before turning to face him.
“It’s impossible, though.” His lips quirked, pulling into a lopsided grin.
“Even wearing that black dress in a sea of people wearing the same color, you still manage to stand out.” My cheeks warmed at his compliment, but I fought the giddy laugh bubbling up my throat.
“Looks like I’m not the only one trying to blend in.” I nodded toward his monochrome ensemble. He was dressed in a black tee shirt, dark wash jeans, and black boots, the only splash of color on him the intricate tattoos covering his arms.
“I’m used to fading into the background.” He shrugged. “But you, I have a feeling, are used to being front and center.”
I narrowed my eyes, my lips forming a tight line. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” he hurried to explain, holding up his hands imploringly as I glared.
“But you radiate confidence and determination. You command a room. Haven’t you noticed how everyone goes still and silent when you speak?
Hell, you got one of the most renowned music video directors to listen to your suggestions within minutes of meeting you.
Most people don’t have that kind of power. ”
He stepped closer to me as he spoke, his eyes burning with awe and passion; cobalt blue rimmed in the shade of the night sky.
His gaze was intense, but his words were what pierced the armor of my heart.
No one had given me that kind of praise in years.
Not Dalton, not Antonio. Not even my parents.
I’d been that girl once, the one you couldn’t look away from.
It was how I’d excelled on my high school debate team and blew other contestants out of the water during my pageant days.
When Dalton and I got engaged, I let some of that fire fizzle out, leaving only a few smoldering embers. I was so focused on becoming the perfect trophy wife and maintaining my social standing that I lost sight of who I was.
Eric’s piercing gaze pulled me back to the present and I watched as it dropped, landing on my mouth. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me, but instead he reached for the table behind me, retrieving a napkin.
“You’ve got a little something,” he explained, lifting the cloth to my lips. “Right there.”
He dabbed at my bottom lip, gently wiping away the remnants of the treat I was devouring when he approached. His eyes lifted to mine as I held my breath, trying not to react to his touch and woodsy scent filling my nostrils. My pulse thrummed as the heat of his skin seeped through the napkin.
He held my stare for a long moment, leaving me feeling unsettled and more aroused than I had any right to be around him. Dropping his hand, he took a step back and shook his head like he just realized we were in a room full of people and our interaction was growing far too intimate.
“Would you like another drink?” he drawled, motioning to my nearly empty glass of wine.
“No, thanks. I’ve gotta drive home.”
“I can take you home,” he offered. I stiffened and he cursed under his breath. “Or… I mean, there are taxis and Ubers everywhere. It’s Nashville, after all,” he added cheekily, misreading my discomfort.
I wasn’t worried about what he’d do if we were alone in a car together.
I was worried about what I would do. My body screamed for attention and I was terrified he’d give it to me.
Imagining those strong hands with their long, deft fingers tangling in my hair and gripping my hips had my blood heating, my skin flushing in response.
“I guess one more wouldn’t hurt,” I blurted out, hoping he’d step away to retrieve my drink and give me a moment to collect myself. The casual setting and dark, sensuous atmosphere had all my defenses slipping away. I was letting my guard down and that was dangerous.
“What’s your poison?”
“Merlot.”
“Be right back.”
He sidestepped me, heading toward the bar and returning a few minutes later with a drink for each of us.
His was a stout, judging by the dark liquid with its foamy top filling his glass.
He passed me the glass filled with the deep red I’d come to prefer over the Chardonnay I used to drink when Dalton and I were together.
I shook away thoughts of my ex-fiancé, unwilling to let past regrets and wrongdoings bleed into the present.
We mingled with other partygoers and I focused on networking on behalf of the band.
They played a few songs up on stage, but when they finished, I made sure to introduce them to as many people as I could, making meaningful connections we could use as their careers flourished.
Eric was frequently by my side, pointing out some of the important players within the industry that I didn’t already know.
We worked the room, tag teaming our targets, hyping up our boys.
As the night wound down, we had a stack of business cards and promises of interviews to follow up on Monday morning.
Eric and I were discussing the week ahead when I spotted one of the record label executives I hadn’t officially met yet.
I alerted my companion and started to head towards the man in the expensive suit, but Eric stopped me, his hand curling around my arm.
“Don’t,” he warned, his voice low but commanding.
His touch sent a zing of electricity up my arm and I fought back a shiver. If anyone else had done that, I probably would have wrenched away and told them where to go, but the look of concern in Eric’s eyes gave me pause.
“Stay away from him.” His eyes pleaded for me to take heed. He knew I wasn’t the type of person to be ordered around; that much he could tell from our short time working together. “He has a bad reputation.”
My gaze flicked to the man in question. He had a beautiful young lady on his arm, a svelte blonde dripping in diamonds and wearing a curve-hugging dress that showed off her ample figure.
Mr. Gardner was easily twenty years her senior, but that wasn’t what was unusual.
It was the way he leered at the young woman carrying a tray of drinks who’d just left the group gathered around him.
He sipped at his flute of champagne as his eyes raked up and down her body.
It occurred to me then what Eric meant by “bad reputation”.
I returned my focus to Eric. He was so close, I could feel the heat from his body and note the navy blue rimming his irises.
Leaning into him would be so easy. Letting him wrap his arm around my waist and pull me close would ease a little bit of the tension building inside me.
But would that satiate my hunger or make me want more?
I needed to step away and put a little distance between us, but I couldn’t make myself do it.
“Gianna.” His voice slid over my name, smooth as honey and deep as the canyon into which I was about to plummet. If I fell, I’d never get out. There was no turning back if we crossed that line.
“Excuse me,” I said in a rush, pulling away from him. He dropped my arm and stepped back, giving me some much-needed space. I didn’t look at him –couldn’t look at him – and bolted for the ladies room. The night was almost over. I only had to hold it together a little longer.
My skin was flushed and overheated when I looked into the mirror above the sink.
I dabbed a cool paper towel over my chest and the back of my neck, careful not to disturb my makeup.
Once I felt composed enough to return, I stepped out of the restroom to find Eric leaning against the opposite wall.
He pushed off from it when he saw me, approaching me apprehensively.
“Are you okay?”
The concern etched across his face warmed me.
I wanted to throw caution to the wind and act on instinct.
All I could think about was wrapping my arms around his neck and digging my fingers into his dark hair as I pulled his mouth down to meet mine.
I was a woman starved for affection, and he was a man whose mere touch promised explosive passion and unrivaled satisfaction.
“Yeah, I just got… overheated.” Not entirely a lie.
His eyes darkened at the admission and his hands flexed at his sides as though he was fighting the urge to touch me.
It was a good thing he could maintain control, because if he lost it, I wouldn’t stop him.
I’d let him have his way with me even if it meant jeopardizing my career.
He heaved a deep breath, letting his taut muscles relax, and reached out a hand to me. “Let’s find you some water.” I slid my palm into his and he gently closed his fingers around mine. His touch was meant to be comforting, but it sent that same pulse of arousal through me as it had earlier.
He found me a bottle of water and handed it over.
I twisted off the lid and took a couple sips.
We stayed quiet for the rest of the party, enjoying the live music.
When it was over, Eric offered to walk me to my car and I let him.
It was late and I really didn’t want to be alone.
He walked with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, most likely to keep from grabbing my hand again.
My disappointment was wrapped precariously in a thin shell of relief.
I wouldn’t let it break through, containing it deep within so it couldn’t be felt.
When we reached my car, he stopped several feet away and gave me a wide berth.
That disappointment began to swell, threatening to crack right through that tough shell I’d built around it.
“I guess this is goodnight,” he said, keeping his hands cocooned in his pockets, a soft restraint against the passion threatening to break free.
“I guess so,” I replied a little mournfully.
“I’ll see you Monday.”
We said our goodbyes and I drove home in a daze. My mom was still up but Lucia was fast asleep in her crib. Mom had come down to visit for the weekend, as she frequently did, and was more than happy to have my baby girl all to herself for the evening.
“How was the party?” she asked as I removed my heels and rubbed my feet.
“It was good,” I answered vaguely, massaging my aching arches. She had little interest in the type of work I did, but always tried to be supportive and engage in conversation regarding my job. I appreciated her effort but was too exhausted to give her more.
She gave me a goodnight hug and I escaped to my room, changing out of my dress before slipping between the sheets. I drifted off to thoughts of Eric and his deep blue, bottomless ocean eyes as they seared into me, promising more than just a friendly touch.