“You ready to go meet our girl?” Phillip Armstrong asked.
Connor nodded, forgetting for a moment that all he really wanted to do was get the hell out while the getting was good. With a resigned sigh, he followed the suits to the backstage area.
Security, if you could call it that, was minimal. Fans swarmed the corridor, pushing, shoving and screaming. When a beefed-up, musclebound security guard standing outside the backstage door looked up and saw them coming, he snapped to attention and started shoving rabid fans to the side so they could pass.
When the door opened, Connor was pushed forward as the fans tried to rush past him. He stumbled inside, a string of obscenities dying to blow past his lips. He managed to keep his cool. Barely.
Phillip and his sidekick, Barry, smoothed their suits and looked questioningly at Connor. Connor’s lips thinned but he gritted his teeth and kept his expression neutral.
They motioned him toward a slightly less congested area and the two men accepted a drink from a gangly boy who couldn’t be more than a teenager. When they offered Connor a glass, he shook his head. Not that the idea of a pint of vodka wasn’t vastly appealing, but at this point, if he started drinking, he wasn’t going to stop.
He peered around the room, which, after more consideration, was much larger than he’d first thought. It was just crowded. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried not to look as bored and as uncomfortable as he felt.
A few seconds later, the door burst open and Lyric stumbled in, a wide grin on her face. Two men he could only assume were her bodyguards flanked her. He arched one eyebrow as the bodyguards proceeded to get very up close and personal as they staggered in Connor’s direction.
As one hand closed around her breast, she swatted playfully, then smiled up at the bodyguard with a “not now, later” look.
Another man stepped in front of Lyric, halting her progress toward the record execs. She frowned and her eyes narrowed but just as quickly her expression became neutral as she stared up at the guy.
“You looked and sounded like shit out there, Lyric. What the hell is your problem?”
Connor’s brows drew together and he found himself frowning at the blatant disrespect in the other man’s tone. Whoever the guy was, he wasn’t worried about the repercussions of his outburst. Connor glanced over at Lyric, fully expecting her to tear the guy a new asshole, but he couldn’t read a thing on her face or in her eyes. It was like she wasn’t even there anymore.
“You need to use this time off to get your act together,” the guy continued. “Get a massage. Get laid. Whatever it takes, but don’t show up in Houston sounding like a screechy has-been.”
Whoa. This was starting to get entertaining.
“Who’s the guy?” Connor asked Phillip casually.
“Her manager, Paul.”
Connor couldn’t read any disapproval in Phillip’s tone. Maybe Paul was saying what everyone else was thinking. But then Connor caught the look in Phillip’s eyes. He looked murderous.
“He always talk to her like that?”
Phillip gave a short nod. “Yeah. Look, you’re going to have to deal with him. There’s nothing I can do about that. But you work for me. Not that little prick. Remember that.”
The men went silent as Lyric finally pushed by her manager and then she came up short when she laid eyes on Connor. Connor took his time acknowledging her presence. The problem was, the woman was clearly used to having people come to attention when she entered a room. Hell would freeze over before he’d be one of them.
When he finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, he saw crystal blue eyes staring back at him with the same disinterest he knew had to be reflected in his gaze. She adopted a bored look as her two minions continued pawing at her.
His gaze moved purposefully to her hair. Jet-black strands shot in different directions and a neon pink streak of color ran from the top of her scalp down the side of her head on the left side.
“Nice hair,” he said.
Amusement glimmered for a moment in her eyes before she looked pointedly at Phillip and Barry.
Phillip stepped forward, a broad, indulgent smile on his face, and why should he be anything else when this chick was likely making him millions?
“Lyric, I’d like you to meet Connor Malone. He’s here from Malone and Sons Security. We’re talking to him about your upcoming stop in Houston.”
She flashed a challenging stare and didn’t extend her hand, but then, neither did he.
Finally she broke and looked over at Phillip. “You know my feelings on this. Why is he here?”
Connor almost smiled. Apparently she wasn’t any happier about the whole thing than he was. She crossed her arms over her chest, which only served to plump her small breasts upward. The swells peeked over the top of her corset and the pale skin glowed in the harsh light. Soft. A direct contrast to her demeanor.
Barry frowned and stepped forward. “Now, Lyric, we’ve discussed this. Malone and Sons comes highly recommended. You don’t have nearly enough security, and after the last few months, you of all people should see that you need more.”
She reached up to shove one of the bodyguards, who was nuzzling at her neck. Instead of being rebuffed, he settled back, a lazy smile on his face that suggested he’d be satisfied later.
If these were the morons charged with her safety, it was no wonder her record label was screaming for more. Their only concern seemed to be how quickly they could get into her pants.
Her gaze found his again, and her eyes narrowed. He looked calmly back at her, refusing to be the one who backed down. He didn’t much care if she could read his disgust. It was doubtful he could hide it anyway. No one was that good an actor.
His skin started prickling in peculiar awareness. The back of his neck itched something fierce, but he wouldn’t give an inch in this silent tug-of-war.
“I don’t like you,” she finally said.
To his utter horror, he went hard.
He smiled then. A lazy, “I don’t give a fuck” grin. It was either that or groan at his growing discomfort, and he’d eat nails before allowing her to know how affected he was by her. “The feeling, Ms. Jones, is entirely mutual.”
She frowned, then slipped an arm around one of the giants at her side, who immediately leaned down to kiss her cheek. The other huddled in close on her other side and she slanted a sly grin up at him.
She may as well have worn a sign that said “I’m fucking both of them” for all the discretion she exercised.
“I’d invite you to join us, Mr. Malone, but somehow you seem too uptight.”
He chuckled and prayed she couldn’t see his erection, because . . . damn. “I’m afraid I’m a bit choosier than you are when it comes to my bed partners.”
Color tinged her cheeks and then she turned away, both guards immediately surrounding her as she walked to the door.
Phillip cleared his throat next to Connor. Connor glanced up.
“Lyric is, uhm, shall we say a little difficult?” Phillip began.
Connor was beginning to think it was her standard description. He held up his hand. “Save it. You don’t have enough money to make me take this job. I’d have to be fucking insane.”
He was already goddamn insane because from the moment she said she didn’t like him, his cock had roared to life and said, Come get me.
The very last thing he wanted was a bratty pop star around him twenty-four/seven, one who gave him a hard-on every time she argued with him.
He’d be nothing but a walking erection.
Lyric walked into her suite and fended off Trent when he went for her top. Surprise flashed in his eyes when she instead headed for the minibar to pour herself a glass of water.