Rock Steady (13 page)

They filed off the stage, heading for the performers’ room behind it where the makeup stations were. Brenton fell into step with him.

“Carl will have an agreement drawn up by the end of the week.”

“Make it good,” Ramsey said, “for her. I don’t want to put the thumbscrews on her. No artist deserves to be tied up too badly.”

“In the case of the dragon, it would be best if Toxsin controlled it,” Brenton argued. “Since it’s part of your public persona.”

“Agreed,” Ramsey said. “But pay her what it’s worth to us.”

The problem was, he wasn’t too sure how Jewel was going to react. The dragon was her baby. Asking her to sign away custody was asking for trouble.

Isn’t that what you fucking want?

A way to keep her from painting you like some damned hero?

Sure. It was what he wanted.

So why did it make him feel like puking?

* * *

Someone knocked on her door around dinnertime. Jewel looked up from her sketchbook, and her neck popped.

“Delivery, Ms. Ryan.”

A uniformed employee was on the other side of the door. Once Jewel opened it, she spotted the security guard standing behind him. A wave of fragrance hit her as the employee pushed a cart through the open door, with a huge vase full of flowers. There were pink and white star lilies, long-stemmed yellow roses, purple tulips, and all sorts of greenery. The employee moved it to the dining table, along with a covered plate and a letter-sized box.

“Enjoy, Ms. Ryan.”

“Oh…” Jewel went dashing to where she’d left her bag slung over the side of the sofa.

“The gratuity has been provided,” the employee said before slipping through the door while Jewel was still fumbling with her wallet.

The flower arrangement must have cost a fortune. At least in her budget zone anyway. She reached for the card nestled in the arrangement.

I hope you will consider my offer.

Quinn Morcant.

The box had a lid that lifted off easily. Inside was a quarter-inch-thick contract offer. She lifted it out, reading through it as her curiosity grew. There was another knock on the door, and she opened it before looking. Her thoughts were on the contract.

“Guess you’re enjoying Morcant’s offer.” Ramsey was looking past her at the flowers.

“Ah…well, I mean, it’s the first time someone’s ever noticed my work on such a level,” she explained lamely.

Ramsey reached out, and his hand stroked her chin. “I let you ink my skin. Put your mark on me.”

His tone had deepened, becoming sensuous. His sudden appearance satisfied something inside her she hadn’t realized she’d been longing for. He looked past her at the easel and let out a low whistle.

“That’s epic.” He moved closer to her work, studying it. She ended up smiling, because it wasn’t fake admiration.

She knew the difference.

“Come on.” He reached down and clasped her hand. She followed him down the hallway, her door closing with a bang before she managed a protest.

“I don’t have my key card,” she said as Ramsey pulled her around a corner.

“I’ll get on that,” Brenton said.

She blinked at the number of people in the main hallway of the top floor. Crew members were carrying stuff around, wearing their black polo shirts embroidered with Toxsin Crew on the chest. Each of them had an identification card with their picture on it dangling from their shirt pocket. Along with the suites, there were large meeting rooms on the floor. One of them had the double doors open wide, music spilling out of it. Drake was sprawled out on a sofa with two girls dancing on the coffee table in front of him, their spike heels making clicking sounds on the glass surface.

“Ramsey!” Female voices called from inside the room.

Ramsey waved them off as he tugged Jewel around another corner and slid his key card through the lock on his suite’s door.

He was being presumptuous, just tugging her along into his suite. At least, that was how she should have viewed it. The door closed, and the rest of the world was shut out, making her feel like she was in his private world, like he was sharing something with her.

You’re really asking for it…

Oh boy, was she. Problem was, she couldn’t seem to stop thinking of him the way she did. At this point, she might as well enjoy the ride.

“Come here. I want to show you something.”

He continued on to the large desk, past the small kitchen and dinette set. His suite had three full sofas in it and a great view of downtown Portland.

Ramsey had stopped in front of the desk. There were three laptops sitting on it, their screens displaying pictures of Syon on top of her.

“Oh…snap.” She leaned over to stick her face closer in some vain hope it wouldn’t be as bad up close.

No such luck. All she gained was a good look at the headlines.

Toxsin members brawl when Syon Braden cheats on new wife Kate…

Marriage is no boundary for Heavy Metal Rocker Syon Braden…

The honeymoon is over, Kate, make room for the new flame in Syon Braden’s life…

“As you learned this morning, the paparazzi are voracious in their appetite for more,” he said from behind her.

Jewel forced herself to take a deep breath and blow it out. She straightened up and turned to face Ramsey. “I haven’t given you enough credit.”

“How so?”

She blushed. “I saw this suite as an extravagance to feed your inner child. Truth is, you need a sanctuary.”

His lips twisted. “My music is my sanctuary. I don’t give a shit about those camera jockeys. They can print whatever the hell they want, the wilder the better. There’s no one I care about impressing.”

He was blocking her out again.

Ha! Try shoving you out with a steel-toed boot to the ass.

“Yeah, you’ve been making sure I know how little you care. Should have let me get my Voodoo doughnuts,” she said as casually as she could.

“I didn’t keep you from them. That’s what this is about,” Ramsey fired back at her. There was a serious note in his tone that cut through everything else in the way that only reality could.

Jewel cast another look over her shoulder at the laptop screens, making herself look at the reality of the world she was part of. At least for the moment anyway.

“Got it,” she said as she returned her attention to Ramsey. The sight of him, with an open leather vest and nothing but lean, rippling abs, was counterproductive to rational thinking.

But, well, truth be told, she liked that about him a whole hell of a lot.

He raised an eyebrow at her. She realized her lips had twitched up. “It’s just the sight of you…and hard, cold facts…don’t…well…” She pushed her fingers together so they were interlaced. “Don’t really mesh well.”

He grinned. That cocksure, devil-better-worry grin that set her blood on fire.

“I promise, no more sightseeing on my own.”

She started toward the door. Forcing her feet to move was damned hard when all she wanted to do was look at the silver bar piercing his right nipple.

“Chicken.”

A challenge. She felt it as much as she heard it, just as she felt him watching her with those midnight-black eyes.

But she turned around and faced him. Ramsey stopped short, surprised by her about-face.

“I don’t play games, Ramsey,” she said firmly. “You’re the one who doesn’t like the way I think. So stop toying with me. You brought me in here.”

His expression tightened, becoming guarded, but there was a flicker of hope in his eyes that made her hesitate. “I want you to stay.”

She scoffed at him. “I’m not willing to play by your party rules.”

His lips twitched. “Damned shame.”

She shook her head. “I disagree.”

His eyebrows lowered. “How so?”

“I think it’s a shame you don’t realize you are the man I think you are.” Counterchallenge issued.

Her words hit him hard. She watched the impact, was pretty sure she felt it too. Their gazes locked, the moment frozen.

He burst the bubble, lifting one hand and crooking his finger at her.

He’d kiss her if she went to him.

Hard, slow, and deep.

Hell, I’d kiss him…

The desire raged in her. His features softened with it. She’d never before been so aware of what another human being was thinking.

Ramsey moved toward her, closing the distance, and she felt sure her feet were stuck to the floor. Her skin rippled with awareness of him, her heart hammering inside her chest as he stepped closer, closer, and finally stopped a single inch from her.

“Don’t take Morcant’s offer. He’s going to use you like a captured chess piece. Nothing more than a prize with point value at the end of the game. That’s his world. The only thing that matters is winning.”

His tone was husky but edged with hard warning. There was something there, some dark emotion that made her shudder, because she knew it revealed an old wound. The raw truth was in his eyes, a scant second of vulnerability flickering in his dark gaze before he cupped her chin and joined their mouths.

It was a slow kiss. Ramsey took his time, tasting her as he teased her lips with his own. She felt herself melting and didn’t give a rat’s ass about what it meant, only that she was dissolving beneath his kiss.

Shivering.

Shuddering.

Her damned nipples tightened. The intensity was off the scale. She rose onto her toes, seeking more. The moment her fingertips landed on his chest, he pulled away.

He didn’t want to.

Or maybe that’s just what you want to see…

It probably was. And it was going to hurt a whole hell of a lot when she was disappointed. She turned around and pulled the door open. Fine, she was a chicken. But she suspected wearing the label would be better than trying to glue the pieces of her shattered heart back together.

Ramsey punched the door, hammering it a couple more times before laying his head against it.

Chapter 4

Someone knocked on her door the next day.

Jewel rubbed her eyes and laid her pen down. The contract offer from Morcant was spread out all over the table. She’d taken to sketching again as she tried to decide what to do about it.

It was impressive.

But Ramsey’s words were stuck in her mind. Getting caught in a crossfire wasn’t her idea of a good time. The moment Morcant realized she wasn’t going to be the right bait, he’d leave her to wither and die without a second thought. A contract was only as good as the marketing backing it.

She looked through the spy hole in the door, surprised to see the drummer of Toxsin standing on the other side.

“Morning,” Drake said as she opened the door.

“Hi.”

He had warm brown eyes with amber flecks, and a square chin. He was thick through the shoulders and sported a leather jacket made from a deep, port-wine-colored leather.

“Voodoo doughnuts,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Jewel asked, trying to decide what he was getting at.

“I understand you were denied your prize yesterday. Drake is here to help you bring it in.”

She smiled. “Oh yeah? Would that be Sir Francis Drake, by chance?”

“None other.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Get some shoes on.”

“You’re on.” She turned and went back into her room. Her shoes were under the table, and she grabbed her bag as she swept up her key card. They were in the elevator before she remembered the horde of camera jockeys waiting below. Her belly did a little flip as the elevator neared the ground floor.

“No fear,” Drake said.

“Ah…sure,” she answered. “I’m getting right on that.”

He winked at her before looping an arm across her shoulders as they went through the lobby. “Let’s confuse them completely by being seen together.”

His tone was so properly British, but the gleam in his eye was most definitely wicked. She was snorting as he took her through the doors. Cameras flashed and questions began sailing at them over the heads of the Hyatt security.

A polished Harley was sitting outside, a polo-shirted Toxsin crew member standing beside it. Drake lifted his leg and swung it over the seat of the machine. The paparazzi enjoyed every second of it, leaning over the barrier tape the hotel had placed outside the main driveway. He revved the bike, his features contorting with enjoyment.

“Let’s take a ride, Jewel.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder and slid on behind him. Her skirt rode up, making her eternally grateful for the leggings she’d put on. There were whistles as Drake pulled out of the circular drive in front of the hotel. Members of the paparazzi jumped on motorcycles and followed.

“Hold on,” Drake advised as he revved up the engine.

But he didn’t do anything stupid. A few of the camera jockeys kept up with them, but he didn’t care. He pulled up in front of Voodoo Doughnut.

“My lady’s pleasures await.”

Jewel laughed as she climbed off the bike and Drake swung his leg over to join her. Voodoo Doughnut had more than one location, but he’d brought her to one of the larger ones. It was in a brick building, the doors opening out onto the sidewalk.

“Wow…” Jewel said as she stepped inside and took her first breath of the sweet-smelling air. “I think my blood sugar is going up just by the scent of this place.”

There were cases of doughnuts, but not the sort she was used to seeing. All of them were over-the-top. Some were dipped in chocolate and then in candy or kids’ cereal. There were oversized doughnuts and vegan ones too.

She was pressing her nose to the glass of the display cases, enjoying the variety, when Drake came up behind her.

“Please get the phallus-shaped one…” he cooed next to her ear. “I want to tell Ramsey I watched you eat dick.”

She laughed at him.

“I’ll take that as agreement.” He straightened up and pointed at a huge doughnut shaped like a male cock and covered in chocolate. The kid behind the counter didn’t miss a step as he used a paper sheet to cover the sweet and lift it off the tray before nestling it in the box he had balanced on his arm. Jewel realized he’d been filling the box with everything she pointed at.