Hard Rock Fling: A Rock Star Romance Page 8

  I finished my breakfast then got showered and dressed — a harder task than I anticipated. I didn't know how to dress for the meeting. Should I wear a conservative business suit, complete with white collared shirt and blazer? I wanted them to take me seriously as a professional. Then again, they hired me for a creative job. Should I accentuate my individuality and be avant-garde? Show them how much of a fashion forward person I was?

  I couldn't stop a small thought from bubbling to the surface. I wanted to impress Ian. I wanted to be sexy. I wanted to be irresistible.

  I wanted him to be as affected by me as I was by him.

  Unfortunately, none of those styles were really me. Faith was right — I didn't have much in my closet aside from sweater dresses, leggings, and oversized shirts. I shouldn't have left the decision of what to wear for the morning of.

  I decided to borrow from Faith and mimic my boss. Janet was chic but professional. A black pencil skirt, ending right at the knee, along with a bright red peplum top. It hugged my every curve in just the right way. The outfit paired well with a skinny black belt and matching high heeled red pumps, to accentuate my legs. I wasn't comfortable in heels, but damn if they didn't make my legs look hot.

  I could imagine Ian's eyes skimming along my body's silhouette. The thought made my insides throb.

  My usual messenger bag got switched out for a black leather purse with metal spikes along the seams. I wanted more of a rock and roll style than usual. Armed with a portfolio case filled with sketches I'd hastily drawn up the night before, I was ready to go.

  When I arrived at work, I stopped a few feet down the hall from the conference room. I straightened my shoulders and made myself walk into the meeting with a confidence I didn't quite feel. Fake it 'til you make it. That would be my motto.

  The moment I stepped into the room, all my confidence shattered.

  Not only was the entire band there, not only was my boss Janet there, but the Director of Product Development and the band's manager Naomi were there.

  Every eye swung to me.

  "Hope. How nice of you to join us." Janet's voice was snide.

  I quickly glanced up at the clock on the wall. I was two minutes early. My heart still thumped wildly. I was frozen under those stares. The stares of people who were so much more important than me. I tried to force a pleasant expression onto my face, but barely managed to make my lips twitch upwards.

  My savior swooped in to rescue me.

  "Well, look at you, sweetheart. You're dressed to kill."

  Ian pushed back from the conference desk with a kick of his heels, the leather chair wheeling back. I gripped my purse tight, still frozen, making my eyes focus on Ian and not dart around the room nervously.

  He approached me with an easy stride. "I wouldn't expect anything less from our new Image Consultant." He plucked my portfolio out of my hands. I reached out reflexively, trying to grab it from him, but he held it out of reach. He flipped through the pages and whistled out loud.

  "Fine Arts degree, huh? Maybe my Picasso joke wasn't so far off. Take a look, guys." Ian tossed my portfolio on the table, sketches fluttering everywhere.

  "Be careful with those!" I admonished without thinking. "They're the originals, not photocopies."

  "Protective of your work?"

  "You ruin one of my sketches and I'll dress you in a paper bag." I bit my tongue the moment the words left my mouth.

  Ian laughed and guided me to a chair with a hand on my back. That light touch sent sparks up my spine. The heat of his hand was like an iron-hot brand on my skin, even through my blouse. When we reached an empty chair, his hand left my back, fingers trailing along my hip, indecently close to my ass.

  I willed myself not to blush and sat gingerly, smoothing my skirt. Even behind his sunglasses, I could feel Ian's eyes burning into me. Exactly the response I'd hope for.

  I surveyed the table. It was disconcerting being on the receiving end of so many stares. It should have been the Director, my boss's boss, who intimidated me. Instead, it was the members of Darkest Days who made my chest clench.

  I nodded politely to the table, unsure where to begin.

  Once again, Ian came to my rescue.

  "Janet, Hope used to work for you. Why don't you introduce us?" he suggested.

  Janet's mouth pinched, annoyed at being ordered around. I jumped in.

  "I believe I already know everyone." I turned to the woman sitting at the far end of the table. "Kristine Watts, Director of Product Development?"

  Of course I knew who she was. She was my boss's boss. I interned in her department. She'd been one of the people interviewing me for the position. Her dark blue eyes glinted behind her glasses. They didn't hold a hint of recognition, not that I expected it. She didn't have time to memorize the names and faces of all the interns.

  "And Naomi Sera, Darkest Days' manager."

  Naomi gave me a no-nonsense nod, not unfriendly, but brisk and business-like. Her dark hair, cut short in a bob, was almost severe. She must have chosen that cut on purpose, to make up for her baby face. I knew she was at least in her thirties, but didn't look much older than me.

  With those introductions out of the way, I moved on to the band.

  "Of course, I know the members of Darkest Days already. Noah Hart, Cameron Thorne, August Summers, Ian and Damon Drake."

  Damon narrowed his eyes at me. I swallowed hard and looked away.

  "And this is Hope," Janet said. "She's an intern with Product Development."

  "Not anymore."

  All eyes turned to August. He faced me, but it was like he was staring right through me, a look of concentration on his face.

  "Now that we've all been introduced," Naomi said, "Tell us about the concept you thought up for our promotional photo shoot and first music video."

  This was what I'd been nervous about. I didn't know if they would like my preliminary ideas. I didn't know if I liked my preliminary ideas. I'd barely had time to think them through.

  I took a deep breath and dove in.

  "To start off, we need to talk about the stages of a relationship and how to represent them. When it comes to the clothing, we can't be over the top. It's got to be subtle. They still need to have a cool rock star style. Here are my basic ideas." I spread out the sheets of paper where I'd jotted down some ideas and quick line sketches. "First is the courtship stage, right?"

  Everyone nodded, waiting for me to continue.

  "You put your best foot forward, act on your best behavior. You're the gentleman. You're the romantic. At least at first. You need to hide your flaws. Your inner demons. You don't want to scare them off too soon. You need to ease them into it. Reveal your dark side slowly. Cameron." I nodded at Darkest Days' bassist. "That's you."

  Cameron wore a tight grey t-shirt. It shouldn't have been surprising — this was a business meeting after all — but I rarely saw Cameron without his abs on display. The lack of chiseled muscle transformed him. His sexy bad boy image was softened, his face cute and earnest. He was less like a sex god and more like a member of a boy band. Maybe that was why he often went shirtless.

  Cameron leaned back in his chair with a pleased expression. "Are you saying I'm secretly a demon?"

  "In the sack, apparently." I hadn't meant to say that, but Cameron just laughed with a smug tilt of his chin. I was glad he hadn't called me out on the gentleman part. There was something about him off-stage. Something less wild. Something softer.

  I was positive Cameron would hate being called soft.

  "For Cameron's concept we're going with a sort of Jekyll and Hyde theme. I'll see if I can come up with something not too cliché."

  "I like it," Cameron said. "Can I have clawed nails and glow in the dark eye contacts for the Hyde side?"

  "Sure. Why not."

  "Sweet."

  I turned to Ian and Damon. They wore jeans with matching band t-shirts, black with a silver graphic. Their hair stuck up in soft tufts, not coiffed into spikes like they prefe
rred during concerts, but untamed, disheveled.

  Unlike Cameron, whose off-stage persona had softened into something like boyish charm, The Twins looked even more devastating. No one should be that damn sexy so early in the morning. Or maybe it was the heated smirk on Ian's lips making me feel that way.

  Breathe, I told myself.

  "The next stage is the conflict stage. Passionate fighting, followed by passionate make up sex. That's you two." I tried not to blush at the lascivious quirk of their lips. "Damon is the fighting. He'll be wearing ripped clothing, torn and bloodied. Ian is the—" I paused to make sure my voice didn't waver. "—the sex. He'll be wearing something less harsh, something romantic but sexy. Like silk and leather."

  I would never dare tell a soul, but half the reason I came up with the idea was because I wanted to see Ian dressed up in silk and leather.

  "It's a cool idea, but it won't work." Damon was brisk, dismissive. "We don't want a different image. We want the same look for the both of us."

  "I just thought—"

  "No." His word was final.

  I deflated. I'd been so sure I was on the right track. I'd have to re-think my entire idea.

  I snuck a glance at Ian, expecting him to be as adamant. His lips were pressed in a thin line. Anyone else would have thought he was annoyed at the idea of two separate looks as well, like his brother.

  But I didn't think that was it.

  Maybe Ian liked the idea of two separate images. Maybe he didn't want to be the exact same as his brother. That would have been surprising. Everyone treated Damon and Ian like they were practically the same person.

  Was Ian getting tired of it?

  "What comes after the conflict stage?" Naomi asked.

  I brought my thoughts back around to the present. I could dwell on Ian and his psyche later.

  "Next is the break up. August, you'll be the one to represent that. You're in pain all the time. It's like you're drowning. You're choking on tears. You don't know how you're going to live with the pain, but you don't know how to show it. You don't know how to ask for help. You feel lost and alone."

  August's eyes went from distant to focused within an instant, giving me a piercing stare.

  He was the most professional of the bunch with a white collared dress shirt to go along with black skinny jeans. He was well respected in the industry, not only for his talent with practically every instrument known to man, but also for his genius composing. He also acted as producer for both his band and others.

  He wasn't just a rock star. August was a prodigy.

  This prodigy also happened to be giving me a shrewd look. I hoped he wasn't reconsidering his decision already. I tried not to be intimidated by it and continued.

  "There's some cool fabric so shiny it looks wet. I'd like to make your outfit using something like that. I'd also like to have underwater shots for the music video."

  "Literally drowning in tears," August murmured.

  "That's the idea."

  "And Noah?" he asked.

  The scowl on Noah's face was nothing I hadn't seen before. I didn't take offense. It wasn't directed at me. He wore his usual spike-studded leather jacket even though it was warm inside the building. The jacket and scowl combined to give off a vibe that visibly said "fuck off."

  Noah's dark eyes flickered to me before going back to stare at the wall. Cameron shifted in his seat, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head in a casual pose. His leg jerked under the table.

  Noah flinched, letting out a faint grunt. The lead singer gave Cameron such a dirty look I thought the bassist would be set aflame on the spot.

  Cameron threw him a shit-eating grin, and nodded his head towards me, silently telling him to pay attention.

  "Noah's the last stage of the relationship. His heart was walled off. He was covered in spikes. But some of his walls are starting to come down. Some of those spikes are falling off. He's starting the healing process. He'll slowly learn to love again."

  Noah let out a strangled noise.

  "You did say she was perceptive," Damon muttered to Ian under his breath.

  Maybe I'd touched a nerve.

  "I like it." Kristine gave me an approving nod. I wriggled a little in my seat, happy the person in charge of all Product Development praised my ideas.

  "It's not bad." Janet said grudgingly. Maybe she hated being one-upped by an intern. At least she wasn't shooting me down.

  "We can run with that," Naomi agreed. "We'll need much more detail, though."

  "This was a basic outline of my ideas," I said. "We can continue working on them together."

  "So what about us?" Ian said.

  "We want a new look," Damon continued.

  "Give me a few days," I told them. "I'll come up with something you'll both like."

  Damon wanted to be the same.

  Ian wanted to be different.

  I wondered how the hell I could pull that off.

  Chapter Fourteen

  That had been my last meeting for the day. Even though I wasn't needed at the office, I was going to have to go home and continue working. The Twins needed a different concept. Something similar but different. My heart sank the longer I thought about it. I had no idea what I was going to do.

  I rode the elevator to the first floor, took one step out into the street and smacked face first into a muscled chest.

  "Sorry!" I apologized quickly, bending to pick up my fallen bag. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

  "I was."

  I stood up and found myself face to face with Ian.

  "I was watching you very closely." He slid a hand down my back to grab a handful of cheek, squeezing gently. "Your ass looks fantastic in that skirt."

  I swatted his hand away and backed up, holding my purse in front of me like a shield. "I wasn't thinking of my ass when I chose it."

  Despite pushing him away, I wanted his hands back on me, caressing every inch of my skin, sliding lower until his fingers were between my legs.

  My breath caught in my throat as I stared into those green eyes. Eyes I hadn't been able to stop thinking about.

  "You heading somewhere?"

  "Just back home. I've got to start re-working that concept."

  Ian's face turned dark, clouding over with frustration.

  I had to ask him. "Did you like my idea?"

  The expression on his face smoothed out as he gave me a deceptively casual shrug. "It wasn't a bad idea, but Damon and I both want the same concept."

  "Do you?"

  Ian pierced me with his stare. "Yeah. We do."

  I knew Ian understood I'd meant the singular you, but he'd answered for both of them. I decided to let it go for now.

  "I pretty much spent the entire week holed up in my room getting ready for my meeting with you guys. I don't know how I'm going to come up with another concept in only a few days."

  "You're smart. I'm sure you'll think of something."

  "I don't feel smart. I feel lost."

  "The others all liked theirs. Three out of four isn't bad."

  "I don't know if Noah liked his."

  "Noah can go suck a dick. He doesn't like anything." He tilted his head at me. "You need a ride home?"

  All breath left my lungs. Alone in a car with Ian. I didn't think my heart could take it. "No. I'm fine."

  "Where are you parked? I'll walk you to your car."

  "I don't have a car. I've got a public transit pass."

  Ian blanched in disgust. "Now I'm definitely driving you home." He stepped towards the curb and nodded towards the car parked directly in front of the Etude entrance. "Get in."

  The car was shiny and black and sleek. "That's yours?"

  "It's my baby," he said with something almost like pride.

  "I don't think that's actually a parking spot."

  "Says who?"

  I pointed to the no parking sign three feet away.

  Ian squinted at it. "Is that new?"

  "Pretty sure it's be
en there for years."

  Ian hummed, then turned away, ignoring the sign. "You coming?" He held the passenger door open, waiting expectantly.

  "Really, I'm fine. You don't need to drive me home."

  "I don't need to. I want to."

  "Ian—"

  "I'm not leaving until you get in. You wouldn't want me to get a ticket, would you?"

  "As if you couldn't just pay for it with the change in your pocket."

  "Still waiting." He looked at his wrist as if he were checking a watch.

  "Women always give you what you want, don't they?"

  "Yes." The smug tilt of his lips and glinting green eyes should have annoyed me. The heated expectation I saw in his expression made me dizzy instead.

  I gave up and slid inside.

  The interior was pristine, all black leather and sparkling clean. Even though I didn't know anything about cars I knew this one had to be expensive. I didn't want to touch anything for fear of leaving smudged fingerprints. I kept my feet tucked together and my hands in my lap.

  Ian got in on the driver's side and peeled away from the curb with a squeal. "You ever been in a Hennessey Venom GT Spyder before?" he asked.

  I clung onto the seat, afraid for my life. "I assume that's a type of expensive car?"

  Ian laughed. "So that's a no. You're not a car person?"

  "No. I'm not an obnoxiously rich person, either."

  "Does it bother you?"

  "That you guys get paid a billion dollars while we interns work for free? Gee, of course not. I'm perfectly happy with that level of income disparity. I love living off ramen noodles."

  Ian gave me a small smile. "Sorry. Should have known what the answer would be."

  "It's weird. Living vicariously through you guys, with all your fancy cars and enormous mansions and raging parties. It's almost like I'm a rock star myself. I'm not used to it."

  "I'm still not used to it either. I—" Ian glanced at me. "I didn't have this kind of money growing up."

  "No normal person has your kind of money."