“I’m going to rip those pants off you,” the girl declared.
“No ripping,” Kate instructed, her wits clearing enough to talk. She realized she was watching Ramsey slip on a condom and turned her head.
“Stay out of my business, bitch. He’s mine.”
There was a wet sound and a groan from Ramsey. Kate stumbled through the door and made it down the hallway to her personal suite. The clock read four thirty in the morning. She didn’t bother turning on the lights, but yanked off her clothes before crawling into the bed.
It was lonely without Syon.
Don’t be a wimp…
Exhaustion took her back down into sleep, but it wasn’t a complete escape. She still felt Syon, longed for him, and knew he wasn’t there with her.
And that she had no logical reason to expect him to be.
* * *
Someone pounded on her door. Kate rubbed her eyes as she heard a key card being used.
“Rise and shine. Check-out time in forty-five.”
It was one of Cid’s guys, one of the black-polo-shirt-wearing dudes that seemed to always be dodging the road manager’s heels. There were girls too. Marketing personnel, publicists, or so they claimed. From what she could tell, they were Cid’s personal entourage. Catering to his whims, always on his coattails.
Among other things, she was sure.
Ramsey’s escapades from the early-morning hours rolled through her memory.
Yeah, catering was the word alright.
You knew what you were getting into.
True.
And yet, she was still struggling to get into the flow.
She heard more pounding on doors up and down the hallway.
Kate rolled over and stretched. She was still tired, but the clock read eleven fifteen. Guess it was a good thing someone was in charge of making sure they were all on schedule. She showered and dumped her clothes back into her suitcase.
She needed to get into the rhythm of life on the road. Staying up until two wasn’t going to work.
But it had been worth it.
She made it down the hallway to where her studio had been set up. She hesitated only a moment before knocking on the door. She gave Ramsey exactly ten seconds before she used her key and entered the suite.
The rocker was nowhere to be seen.
Neither were the pants she’d spent the night making.
Horror flashed through her, raising her hackles. She forced herself to take a breath and take a second look.
Nope. No pants hanging on the rolling rack where she’d put them.
Instead, there was a scattering of women’s clothing, empty beer bottles, and torn-up pieces of leather. The pants Ramsey had been wearing were on the floor, torn beyond repair.
“I’m going to kill him.”
Ramsey’s voice sounded off in the hallway. Kate turned and caught sight of the rocker by the elevators. He was French-kissing a blond woman who was in the elevator. The doors started to close, and he pulled his head back. Kate gained just a glimpse of the girl as she waved good-bye, but it was long enough to see that she was wearing the pants she’d made for Syon.
“Stop!”
Ramsey flipped around, but the doors shut.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Kate dove toward the control panel, slapping the button, but the car was gone.
“You got a hard-on for my date?” Ramsey asked.
“No, I want the pants I spent last night making back,” Kate snarled at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing letting her take my work?”
Ramsey flattened a hand over her mouth. “My head is splitting.”
Her eyes bulged, and she started to lift her knee. Ramsey jumped back, allowing her to see how many people had come out to watch.
Well, she wasn’t backing down. “You and your date tore through all of my work.”
“Easy now…”
Cid hooked her and crowded her through the doorway of some suite.
“See…here’s the thing,” the road manager said.
Kate shoved away from the guy, but he pushed her farther into the room.
The road manager pointed at her. “Image is key.” He stressed each word like she was some high school student sitting in the principal’s office.
“No kidding. That’s what I’m pissed off about. I spent all night making those pants,” she snapped.
“That’s why you weren’t at the show?” Syon’s voice was like a live current, stroking her senses.
Awakening her.
She looked past Cid, losing interest in the road manager. Syon had walked into the room, Ramsey and Taz on his heels. His hair was tousled, and his shirt hung open.
And he made her mouth water.
“You’re out of pants,” she answered. “Of course I was working. I needed that draping to start…”
A horrible thought occurred to her.
“Ramsey better not have screwed with my patterns.”
Cid waved her off. “Make some more. The publicity will be worth it.”
“And what kind of publicity will you get when your performers go on stage in their jock straps?” she demanded.
Cid’s expression tightened. “That’s your problem, and I’ll pack your ass out of here if you let it happen.”
He started to poke her in the chest with his finger. He went stumbling as Syon pushed him out of the way. “Keep your hands off her, Cid.”
“Then tell her to mind her mouth.”
“What the hell?” Kate demanded. “You’ve got security set up around the room where the instruments are, but not around my studio?”
Cid looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Your work doesn’t rate on that scale.”
“I don’t what?” She propped her hands on her hips. “You can find yourselves another leather artist if that’s where I rate.”
“Like hell,” Syon cut her off. He hooked her around her waist and pulled her away from Cid.
“Get the fuck out. Everyone.”
“I am not staying in here with you.”
She wasn’t sure why she was pissed, just that it hurt to see him. Uncertainty was eating her alive.
Ramsey made sure everyone else went out the door and closed it without a backward glance. It left her alone with Syon. Which hurt.
And that pissed her off.
She tossed her hair back and faced off with him. But that allowed her to lock gazes with him, and the moment she did, it felt like a spear went through her. He was so close. So within reach. She suddenly questioned why she was mad or if it was worth it.
That hurt her pride. She was folding, crumpling under the weight of her attraction for him.
“I worked all night on those pants.”
For him.
Syon had crossed his arms over his chest and stood watching her from behind a guarded expression.
“Cid’s attitude is…counterproductive,” she added.
She was struggling to dredge up professional language. Really struggling because all she wanted to do was cuss.
“He’s an asshole. It’s his job,” Syon said offhandedly, obviously not interested in the topic. His gaze cut into hers, something else on his mind.
She blinked at him, surprised by how easily he’d agreed with her. “Well doesn’t his job include not letting your wardrobe walk away on Ramsey’s party partners? I put my heart into my work.”
His expression cracked at last, his lips twitching into a genuine grin.
It confused her and frustrated her. She tossed her hands into the air. “Why are you grinning?”
He moved toward her, opening his arms. She recognized the intent in his eyes and instantly recoiled.
Ha! You mean you’re retreating.
Yeah, whatever worked. If he touched her, she’d lose track of the conversation. Her pride wasn’t willing to bend.
“We’re not done talking, Syon.”
He captured her, gathering her against his chest so her face was buried in the open front of his shirt. One breath, and she was struggling against a rush of pheromones.