“You can kiss me if you want.”
I gave him my best scornful glare. “Considering where that mouth has been, I’ll pass.”
“How do you know where it’s been?”
“I read the news.”
“Don’t believe everything you read, especially in mainstream media.”
“Great.” I groaned. “A conspiracy theorist.”
“Nope. Just a guy who’s seen more bullshit written about him than the truth.”
A flush of shame coated me. He was right; I’d seen plenty of stuff about my family and the stars I managed to know the press made crap up all the time. Scandalous headlines received ten times the clicks than good news stories did, and it didn’t seem to matter anymore if what they reported held a grain of the truth.
“Sorry. You’re right.”
“I mean…”—he shrugged—“I’m not a monk, but nor am I just jamming my dick in anything that moves.” Sticking out his elbow, he arched a brow. “Shall we go?”
It felt both odd and right when I slid my hand inside and wrapped my fingers around his impressive bicep. “Lead the way.”
On the car ride to the venue, Joz carried the conversation with funny anecdotes and stories from his wilder days. He was so easy to be around, and I found myself getting lost in the deep cadence of his voice and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about music. Little wonder he’d sold millions of albums and played to packed-out stadiums for the last decade. He was the whole package.
It didn’t take long for the car to stop. Joz put his sunglasses back on before he climbed out, staring at the sidewalk while he waited for me to join him. Slotting his fingers between mine, he led me inside without getting spotted, and for the second time tonight, I discovered I’d made assumptions that turned out to be wrong.
This was a club, sure, but not the kind with strobe lights, a DJ blasting out tunes, or a dance floor crammed with people. Itwas a small, cozy venue, with small tables dotted around a small stage, and a bar serving fancy cocktails rather than beer.
“Not what you thought, huh?” Joz winked, and I groaned.
“Fine.Fine.But just so you know, smug is a horrible look.”
He threw back his head and laughed. After removing his baseball cap and glasses, he untied his hair, shook it out, and, once again, I found myself transfixed by him. He had a presence, an… aura. An abundance of star quality.
“Want to kiss me now?” With his head cocked to one side, he fired off another wink.
Closing my eyes, I expelled a heavy breath through my nose. “You couldn’t handle a woman like me.” I opened them, staring firmly at him.
“Maybe, maybe not. Wouldn’t mind giving it a go, though.”
“I already told you; I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
His perfectly straight teeth grazed over his bottom lip. “I can still get out of that contract, you know.”
My eyes flared wide. “You wouldn’t!”
“A choice between a chance to climb between the sheets with you, or a music contract?” He grazed a hand over his scruff, then leaned down and put his lips close to my ear, eliciting a shiver as they brushed the lobe. “You’d win every time, Aspen.”
“Hey, you made it.” A guy in his early forties clapped Joz on the back, giving me a few precious seconds to pull myself together.
Get a grip.Remember, this was what famous men were good at. When they set their sights on someone, they had this ability to make them feel as though they were the center of their universe. Until boredom kicked in and the poor woman found herself kicked to the curb.
Not this woman.
“Thanks for inviting me.” Joz thrust out his hand, and the two men shook. “Lars, this is Aspen. Aspen, this is Lars Saint, the owner of this club.”
Lars’s gaze traveled over to me. “Great to meet you, Aspen. I see your eye for beautiful women hasn’t dulled, Joz. Always have been one for the stunners.”
I swore Joz bristled. “I also have an eye for smart women. Aspen is an extremely successful CEO.” He cleverly avoided mentioning my surname or Kingcaid Music, and I flashed him an appreciative smile. Last thing we needed was for the rumor mill to fire up before the official announcement.
