A Little Night Music (3 page)

She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands along the material, feeling the hardness beneath. To follow it up to where the cloth clung, cupping his crotch. She felt an ache between her own thighs, making her aware of how the thong she wore rubbed against her, heightening the feeling of arousal.

Hannah tore her eyes from the poster, belatedly aware that Sam Granby had extended his hand and was waiting for her to take it.

Lovely. Caught fantasizing about Nate Fox in front of his manager like some starstruck groupie. Squaring her shoulders, Hannah gathered her professional persona and met Sam’s hand with her own.

“Sam, it’s a pleasure to meet you again,” she said. He was a compact, barrel-chested man, making up in strength what he lacked in height. His curly hair, once dark, was salted throughout.

Sam motioned her to a seat. “I’m thrilled you’ve agreed to work for us, Hannah.”

Hannah deliberately chose a chair that placed the poster at her back. There was no sense in tempting her eyes to seek it out. She didn’t need to make a fool of herself by drooling. “Now that you’ve hired me, I have to admit that I’ve wanted to work with Nate for years.”

“You’re a fan, then?” Sam asked.

Hannah laughed. “Guilty as charged. Since I was a teenager,” she admitted. Opening her bag, she drew out a file, placing it on the desk. “I’ve reviewed the material you sent and everything looks fine.” She slid a sheet of paper across the desk. “I’ve written up a press release based on what we discussed over the phone. I’ll get that out to all the majors as soon as you approve.”

“Nate’s the one who signs the checks,” Sam said. “He gets the final stamp of approval.”

Her stomach fluttered at the sound of his name, at the reminder that she’d meet him again soon—really meet him this time, on her own terms, and not as a palm to be pressed at an industry party.

And definitely not as a gawky teenager.

“I’ve let it leak that we’ll be shooting publicity shots at Fisherman’s Wharf tomorrow afternoon. I want a crowd there. I want people talking about how good he looks. I want fans to spread the word that Nate Fox is back.”

“That sounds good,” Sam said. “I’ll meet with our security guy tonight after dinner and make sure he’s prepared.”

“Good,” Hannah said. “I’ve arranged for Gina Salvatore to take the photos. You’ll meet her at dinner tonight. She’s going to do some digital work for us, even though she usually works in film. It would be great if she could get some shots of him with fans, signing autographs, that sort of thing. I want them posted on his website by tomorrow night.”

Sam nodded, scribbling a note on a piece of paper. “If you get the digital pics to me after the shoot, I’ll send them to our web master.”

“I’ll give you the memory card,” Hannah assured him.

Sam leaned back in his chair, restlessly turning a pencil between his fingers. “I’ll be frank with you, Hannah. Since the accident, he hasn’t done well dealing with the publicity. The new album,
Cannibal Eyes
, is a covers album—well, you know all that. You also know that sales aren’t great. We did it to fulfill Nate’s production contract, and the label doesn’t feel like investing much money in promoting it. With the tour due to start, I want to flood the market with his image and sound. I want this tour to be his comeback. I want you to show the world that he’s back in top form.”

“To show them that he’s not a drugged-out, used-up has-been?” Hannah asked.

Sam’s mouth tightened, but he answered easily enough. “Yes. That’s why I want you on the road with us, Hannah. I know that’s not a publicist’s normal job, but it’s important to me that you keep on top of every little development, and spin it the way we want.”

She leaned forward, her grey eyes holding his. “Is he clean, Sam? And will he stay that way?”

“Yes,” he answered. “He will.

“Good. I’ve cleared a huge block of my time, for which you are paying me nicely,” Hannah said with a quick smile. “I’ll be on the road with you as long as you need me. I may have to spend some time working with my other clients, but Nate will be my first priority. We’ll put him back on top, and make sure he stays there.”

Sam spread his hands, giving her an easy grin. “What more could I ask for?”

Hannah crossed her legs, smoothing her skirt over stockinged thighs. “You’ve been with him a long time.” She knew he had: He’d been Nate’s manager all those years ago when she’d met Nate so briefly.

“Yeah,” he said. Sam’s ankle rested on his knee. His foot bounced restlessly. “Ever since I heard him sing in a little bar in Redwood City. The band he was with was mediocre, but he stood out. Women swooned whenever they heard his voice, and the music he could pull out of his guitar showed me he had true talent. The rest is history.”

“Hardly,” Hannah said with a laugh. She twisted a lock of hair back from her cheek. “It was two years before you got him a recording contract.”

Sam’s eyebrows arched. He gave a rueful smile. “I knew you’d do your homework. Nate’s music was just out of the mainstream, always has been. Boy bands were in, and Nate just didn’t fit the image. He’s never been the innocent charmer that mothers would accept on their daughters’ walls. He’s the one who steals their daughters’ hearts, makes them hunger for something forbidden. And deep down, where they’ll never admit it, the mothers want him, too.”

Hannah suppressed a shudder at the thought of her mother and Nate.

“Women love a bad boy,” Hannah said.

Wasn’t that the truth.

“Your work paid off,” she said. She liked Sam Granby, she decided. He was blunt and focused, but there was an energy about him that came out in small ways, in the twitch of his foot, the play of his fingers. His enthusiasm filled the room, and she sensed that he used it as a tool to get what he wanted.

“Yes, it did,” Sam said. “But there were days I’d have gladly gotten him a choreographer and taught him some dance moves to get him noticed.”

Hannah laughed at the image. She had a great imagination, and Nate had long featured in it, but there was no way she could stretch it to include him in a trendy hat and earnest expression, bopping across the stage.

“He got his first hit off the CD we were marketing at the clubs,” Sam said. He used the pencil to point at one of the records framed on the wall.

“’Strange Desires’,” Hannah murmured.

Growing up in an industry household, she’d actively avoided a real interest in popular music. The artists who came to her house for meetings or parties were just her father’s colleagues and business associates, nobody special. They treated her like the little kid that she was, or ignored her, and if she heard their music on the radio, it was with little more than a passing note.

Until one day, hanging out with a friend, she caught the “Strange Desires” video on MTV.

Her adolescent hormones flared, her heart fluttered, and an hour later she was at the Galleria, intent on finding the CD. The band was named Fox, but it was Nate’s show all the way. He was the only one she had any interest in.

So she hadn’t really had to research the nuances of his career for this job. She could, in fact, recite them by heart.

A local DJ had picked up “Strange Desires” and played it on a show featuring new music, and the song took off. That led to a recording contract and Fox’s first platinum album. He won Best New Artist that year, and his second CD showed that he wasn’t a one-hit wonder.

“He was riding so high,” she said to Sam. “What happened to him, Sam?” She was aware of the almost wistful tone in her voice.

Sam gave a short laugh. “He took to the life like he was born to it. Started believing too much in his own PR. Too many long nights, too much partying on top of a brutal schedule. He started with a few pick-me-ups and it all went downhill.”

“And now we have to get him back on top,” Hannah said. “Luckily, bad PR isn’t the death knell it used to be. If we do it right, we can turn it around and he’ll be the golden boy of the music business again.”

“That’s what I want,” Sam said. He glanced at his watch. “Why don’t you see if you can track down Nate and then we can get out of here and get some dinner?”

“Sounds great,” Hannah said. “I’ll have to call Gina and let her know where to meet us.”

Sam named a restaurant and Hannah made a quick note of it before standing up. As she stood, her eyes wandered once again to the poster.

She was about to meet him again. That thought made her mouth dry up. Other parts of her weren’t so lucky. Just looking at a picture of him had her hot and needy. How on earth was she going to be able to handle him in the flesh?

The fantasy of handling him in the flesh was not helping her state of mind.

But she had to. She was a professional. She was going to represent him, and she was going to do a damn good job. And then, after she’d gotten him back to the top of the charts, she was going to seduce him and give him the most mind-blowing night of his life. And hers, too.

First, though, she had to get through meeting him again, and dinner. One baby step at a time.

Sam had said the studio that Nate was in was down the hall and to the right. She stopped in the ladies’ room first. A swipe of dark red lipstick and a dab of powder and her confidence was restored. She made a quick call to Gina, who had just landed and was dealing with her camera equipment. Her friend promised to be at the restaurant in time for dinner.

A last look in the restroom mirror and she was as ready as she was going to get.

Hannah peered through the glass in the studio’s door. The recording booth was empty, but through the window that separated it from the performance room, she saw Nate Fox again.

He sat at a piano, his back to the door. That surprised her. She’d have thought he would be playing his guitar. Her heart gave a curious thud and she felt adrenalin shoot through her body, heightening her senses. Glossy black hair fell over the collar of his teal blue shirt, shorter than it used to be, but still long enough to wrap around her fingers. The muscles of his shoulders moved easily beneath the shirt as he played, and she imagined running her fingers up his back, over his shoulders….

Music spilled out when she opened the door. It was one of his older songs; she recognized it immediately. She closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her, absorbing it through her pores. It reminded her of thunder on a sunny day, coming unexpectedly, promising rain and wind and raw power.

Hannah slipped inside to stand unobtrusively just next to the doorway connecting the rooms. She knew in theory what all of the knobs and levers and lights did—she couldn’t have grown up the daughter of a producer without picking up a few things—but it had never been where her interest lay. She was fascinated by public versus private persona, by media, by the psychology of it all.

And she was fascinated by Nate Fox.

She was within a few yards of him, but he hadn’t seen her yet. He was obviously lost in the music. He leaned back so far she thought he’d tumble over except for the fact that she’d seen him perform the maneuver in music videos and on stage.

He played the final few notes, then his hands stilled on the keyboard. For a moment, he sat, arched back, eyes closed, listening to the music fade away.

Then he opened his eyes and saw Hannah.

Chapter Two

Nate stared. Even upside down, the woman standing by the door was a knock-down, drop-dead stunner. He hadn’t heard anyone come in… Maybe the blood had all rushed to his head and was making him hallucinate? It had never happened before, but if this was a hallucination, he was perfectly happy to have it continue.

He sat up and spun around on the stool. The vision was still there, which implied she wasn’t a mirage. Even better.

She had long red hair that looked as though it would feel like fairy gossamer if he touched it. She had a redhead’s creamy skin and a pair of amazing grey eyes.

And then there were her legs. Oh my, her legs. Her suit skirt was tasteful even though it was short, and her strappy high heels accentuated the line of her calf and the strength of her thighs. He imagined running his hands along those legs, and felt his cock stir. It took all of his concentration to wrest his mind away from the lustful thoughts, before his leather pants announced to the world what he was thinking.

The woman took a graceful step away from the wall. “Nice performance,” she said. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Oh, not at all,” he said. He stood and held out his hand. “Nathaniel Fox. But you can call me Nate.”

“Hannah Montgomery.”

His hand tightened on hers. The bones of her hand were delicate, but her grip was strong. The gaze that met his was confident and assessing. An exotic scent, light and heady, stole around him. He found himself wanting to breathe it in and wondered if it would be stronger there at the soft skin beneath her ear. “The infamous Hannah. I’m honored.”

“I’m infamous?” she asked. Her voice was just the tiniest bit husky, which he found incredibly sexy. He’d liked it on the phone. He liked it even better in person. He wondered how it sounded when she cried out in passion.

“Of course,” he said, forcing himself to stay with the conversation. “The woman who saved Jenna Glenn’s ass? Who rejuvenated the career of Simone DePaolo? Who helped take Double Zero out of the realm of boy bands and into the adult market?” He was suddenly glad he’d paid attention to Sam’s list of her credentials. “We’ve all been intrigued.”

She smiled, just a little, revealing a dimple in her left cheek. “Intriguing. I like that.” She trailed her tongue across her bottom lip, moistening the curve.

Nate wanted to follow the path of her tongue with his own. His grip on her hand loosened, but only to trace his fingers on her palm. He wondered how far she would allow the flirting to go. “So do I,” he said. “I hope I’ll get the opportunity to get to know you better.”

Hannah grazed Nate’s palm with her fingernails, smiling appreciatively when she saw him draw in a sharp breath. “You will. Sam wants me to be hands-on with the PR. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”