Getting Played (Heart of Fame #7) (24 page)

Blissful.

She slipped from his arms and took a quick shower. After a rather laughable attempt to make herself look half decent in her lust-discarded clothes, she kissed him on the lips, snickered at his sleepy command that she come back to bed and then rushed to work.

Thank God, a taxi was quick to flag and the traffic nice to her.

Giving Dory a quick wave as she strode to her office, she ran her hands over her crumpled suit pants. She really should have woken earlier this morning. Gone home before coming to work. Changed into something more appropriate. People were going to talk. If they weren’t already.

Her belly fluttered with rebellious delight. Screw them. What she was doing with Jax didn’t impact on her job. And it was going to be over soon, if she could ever get him to actually listen to any of her selected candidates.

Rounding her desk, she dumped her handbag on the floor beside her seat and prepared to sit.

The first thing she saw on the polished mahogany surface—no doubt placed there for her by Dory—was a note from the chairman of the Con’s board, requesting a meeting ASAP.

The second thing was a magazine, one of those trashy gossip magazines, with an image of her, Jax and Jeremy on the cover, under the heading:
Love Triangle Sounds Off-Key.

She looked at both and grinned, the rebellious delight in her tummy blooming into wicked joy. She’d known a life with Jax was never going to be boring. Looks like it had already be—

She froze, her bottom halfway toward the cushioned seat of her chair, the sounds of Dory typing up something on the laptop in the outer office doing nothing to smother the rapid pounding of Nat’s heart in her ears.

Cold realization crashed over her like a shower of icy pinpricks inside and out.

A life with Jax?

She blinked, staring at the magazine without really seeing it.

Oh God, what the hell was she thinking? A life with
Jax
? Was she insane? Damn it, had she gone and done exactly what she’d told herself she wouldn’t? Had she fallen in love with the bastard? The very bastard who’d shrugged off their first relationship and stolen her AC/DC record without a backward glance?

Had she?

Had she?

Lowering her butt to her seat completely, she pressed her palms to the smooth surface of her desk and drew a slow breath.

She thought about her behavior, her attitude toward everything—the potential backlash from the board, the ridiculous attention from the media—and let out a strangled whimper.

Oh fuck, she had. She’d fallen in love with Jaxon Campbell.

Which was the most ridiculous, clichéd, woeful thing she’d ever done.

Closing her eyes, she pressed her palm to her lips. Prickling heat crept over her, replacing the chill of her horrifying realization. Her belly rolled. Oh God, she was in love with him. She’d told herself she wouldn’t let this happen. Told herself it was only ever allowed to be sex, and here she was, imagining a future with him, enjoying being with him on
every
level when they were together, not just a sexual one. Thinking about him with a dopey smile on her face when they weren’t together.

Damn it, when had this happened?
How
had this happened? She’d been so adamant. So determined. She
wasn’t
going to fall in love with him. They weren’t meant to be a
real
couple. They weren’t.

More to the point, what did she do about it?

“End it,” she muttered, a sick weight settling low in the pit of her belly. “Bring it to an end now. Before you make a fool of yourself and he takes off again with something more important than a record.”

Opening her eyes, her stomach a broiling mess, she woke up her office computer and pulled up the details of the only serious replacement for Nick Blackthorne she could think of.

She stared at the screen, looking at the student there. “You better not say no,” she whispered. “After all the orgasms I’ve wasted…”

The mocking statement died in her throat. The orgasms Jax had given her could never be considered wasteful, no matter how much of her heart and soul she’d lost to him with each one. She would draw on the memory of those orgasms, of
him
, long after he’d left. Long after the band,
Synergy
—with its new front man—had rocked the world again.

Long after Jax returned to his wild Jaxon Campbell sex-maniac ways.

Hitting the print shortcut on her computer’s keyboard, she stared blankly at the screen a while longer, allowing herself one last, long tormenting thought of Jax.

And then she shut him from her mind completely and turned her full attention to work. The Dean of the Sydney Conservatorium of Music’s job was never done, after all.

Six hours later, when Jax wandered into her office, long, lean legs snugged in black leather, sinewy torso wrapped in a black T-shirt and faded denim jacket, his smile relaxed and playful, she was ready.

“Hey, Boxhead.” He crossed to the seat in front of her desk and flopped into it, lacing his hands behind his head. “You finished soon? I’ve got something special planned for the evening.”

Drawing a slow, steadying breath, she threaded her fingers together on her desk and schooled her expression to one of patient calm. “I’ve other plans tonight, Jax.”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Fuck off.”

A lump grew hot and fat in Nat’s throat. “Yes. I’m going to the Prime Minister’s Ball this evening with Jeremy.”

The loose ease in Jax’s body vanished. “The Minister for Pictionary?”

Nat rearranged the papers on her desk. “If you recall, he extended the invitation while you were here in my office two weeks ago. As Dean, I would be remiss in not attending it with him.”

“While I was making you come from under the desk you mean?” A dark glint flashed in his eyes. “You know the mags are calling us a love triangle? You, me and the Minister. Apparently, he’s been telling people you two are serious. One coffee date and you’re serious. How’s that for deluded? Always knew politicians spun bullshit every time they opened their mouths. Add that to the pap images of you and I together shot over the last couple of weeks and the media is going crazy. My agent has been contacted more this last week for comments on the situation than she ever has for any band or book-related nonsense.”

Swallowing the lump threatening to choke her and cursing the nauseous churning in her stomach, Nat straightened the sheets of paper in front of her again. “I’m aware of the articles, Jax. And when I spoke to Jeremy today, I explained to him you’re just an old acquaintance I’ve been entertaining as a favour to Nick Blackthorne while you’re in the country.”

Jax’s eyes narrowed. A knot in his jaw bunched. “As a favour to Nick?”

Nat nodded. Oh Christ, she felt ill. “Speaking of Nick, I have my final suggestion for you for his replacement.” Plucking the top sheet of paper from her desk, she handed it to him. “These are his results and class progress so far. His voice and talent are beyond words,” she said as he took the sheet and regarded her with a confused frown. “He has the musical lineage and the rock-god attitude already, and as you know, he can play a guitar better than any student I’ve ever met, both currently studying and graduated.”

Jax lowered his attention to the paper in his hand and then looked at her again, his stare unreadable.

“With the right guidance,” she said, forcing her voice to remain professional, almost aloof, “and a few choice words from his father I think he will be perfect for
Synergy
.”

Jax studied her. “You’re really going out with the Minister this evening?”

Nat’s stomach twisted at the bewildered disbelief in his voice. “I am.” She shifted on her seat, perching herself on its edge, her pulse far too fast in her neck. She dropped a glance at the sheet in Jax’s hand. “Would you like his contact details?” she asked, refusing to acknowledge the guilt and ache in her chest. Leaning forward, she pressed the intercom button connecting her to the outer office. “Dory, can you bring me in a copy of Josh Blackthorne’s contact details, please?”

Body still, gaze level, Jax regarded her from across her desk. “I wasn’t hanging around for a name, Nat. I knew it was going to be Josh. I knew it
had
to be him the Monday we played together.”

She stared at him, the air around her a compressing heat. “So why were you hanging around? Why the fortnight of—”

“I was hanging around for you.”

Pain lanced at Nat’s heart.

He watched her, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down his throat. “You’re really going out with Craig tonight?”

She forced a tired sigh past her lips, refusing to surrender to the deluded fantasy of being with him. “Yes.”

His nostrils flared. “So after all this?” He swiped his finger back and forth between them. “What you and I have been doing for the last two weeks? What we’ve shared? It really
was
just sex?”

Her chest ached. Her breath scraped at her dry throat. “Did you think it was anything else?”

He didn’t reply. He just stared at her, his jaw bunched, the paper with Josh Blackthorne’s performance results and comments from lecturers sitting on the desk in front of him.

She pressed her palms to the tops of her thighs and swallowed. Waited for an answer she didn’t want to hear.

“No,” he finally said, his voice flat. Emotionless. He straightened to his feet. “Of course I didn’t. The notion of spending the rest of my life with you, of being in love with you, of hearing those five notes tattooed on your body played as you entered a church on our wedding day never crossed my mind. I never once thought how incredible and perfect it would be to grow old and grey and wrinkly with you. Never found myself daydreaming of having children with you and watching them grow up to be musical geniuses. Not at all. Not once.”

Nat stared at him, her heart a world of compressing agony.

Oh God, had he really been thinking all those things?

Did it matter?

He stood at her desk, hurt betrayal etched in his face.

“Jax…” she whispered, his name rough sandpaper in her throat. “Why…I can’t…” She paused.

Can’t what? Believe it?

“Josh Blackthorne’s contact details,” Dory’s chirpy voice cut the heavy silence. She damn near skipped into the room, flashing a coy sideways smile at Jax. “I was in bed with you last night.”

Nat’s stomach dropped.

“I mean I fell
asleep
listening to a Nick Blackthorne album.” Dory giggled. If Nat didn’t know Dory so well she’d hate her. “You’re an incredible musician. I’ve read articles comparing you to Ray Charles and Jordan Rudess. You’re sexier than both of them, though.”

Without breaking eye contact with Nat, Jax raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? I’ve heard I’m incredible as well. Especially to fall asleep with.”

Dory giggled again.

Tight pain shot through Nat’s chest.

“So that’s it?” Jax asked, unreadable gaze still holding hers. “We’re done here? Finished? You’ve given me what I want and I’ve given you what you want?”

Nat balled her fists on the tops of her thighs. She wanted to say no. Wanted to say she’d messed up. But he was Jax, and it seemed she was a chicken. “We’re finished,” she said, voice steady. “I know Josh will be a perfect fit for the
Synergy
.”

Jax’s nostrils flared. He studied her, nothing in his expression revealing what he was thinking. Nothing. Nat hated seeing him that way. It wasn’t Jax.

Say something. Tell him he can call you if he wants. Tell him you don’t mean it. Tell him you’re sorry. Tell him you love him. Tell him!

“Jax…” she began, every fibre and nerve ending in her body shearing apart with confused grief. “I…I can’t…”

With a barely audible growl, Jax nodded. “Fine. We’re finished. You won’t mind then if I take your assistant here—” he snaked his arm around Dory’s tiny waist and yanked her to his side, “—away? Show her just how…incredible I can be?”

Dory gaped at him with wide eyes, open excitement and undeniable desire on her face. “Me? Are you serious?”

Nat ground her teeth. Inside, she was dying. “Sure.” She waved a limp hand. A ball of sour grief burned in her throat. “She’s all yours.”

Dory swung to Nat, eyebrows high. “I can go early? Really?”

Nat’s smile for her assistant was brittle. “Of course, Dory. It is almost five after all.”

Jax laughed, the sound ribald devilry. “You’re giving her an early mark?” He buried his face in the side of Dory’s neck and she let out a surprised gasp, wriggling and giggling against his side. “How’s that for an early mark?”

Nat didn’t need to see the red mark on the side of Dory’s neck to know he’d given her a love bite.

“Let’s go, cutie,” Jax said, squeezing Dory’s backside.

Nat’s stomach rolled.

“Are you okay with this, Ms. Thorton?”

She drew a swift breath at her assistant’s laughing question. Smiled. More brittle than before. “Absolutely, Dory. Jax and I are just old friends.”

A heavy prickling sensation told her Jax was looking at her.

“Absolutely,” he echoed. “Nothing more.”