In For Keeps / Under His Touch. Taryn Belle
tour assistant quit today. I’m just gonna say it—I’m a little desperate for a new one. Any chance you’d consider taking the job?”
She put a hand out to steady the martini glass she’d almost knocked sideways. “The job?”
“Yeah.” Dev’s fingers skimmed hers as he reached out to catch the glass with her. She pulled back as they buzzed with electricity. “You’d be perfect for it.”
“I pop beer caps for a living, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“But you used to be an executive assistant.”
“I worked with CEOs. I don’t even know what a—a rock star assistant does.”
“That’s easy.” He winked. “Whatever I want you to.”
Her belly flopped over. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Why, Kiki? What are you so scared of?” Dev’s aqua eyes were unblinking. He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. It’s been three weeks, and I can still feel you under me. That’s the real reason I wanted to see you again, Kiki. I leave in two days, and I want to take the memory of you with me. I want to be inside you again. Don’t tell me you don’t want the same thing.”
Her knees unlocked, threatening to collapse her onto the floor. God, did he really just say that? She could feel her face overheating as she measured honesty against fake indifference. As usual, honesty won. “I do, Dev, trust me. But that’s not a road I can travel down.”
“Why not?”
“Because—because it’s just not. It’s complicated. And accepting a job where I had to work anywhere within a one-mile radius of you would pretty much undo me.”
“I feel like things would have been different if Brissoli had never happened.”
“They wouldn’t have been.”
“Why not?”
“Stop asking me that.”
He shook his head. “Even if I can’t have you, I still want your skills. What if I promised to keep anything personal out of it?”
Kiki laughed. “After what happened between us? I think that’s beyond wishful thinking.”
“Who said anything about wishing for it?”
“You see?” Kiki stopped the banter with a loud thud of a wine bottle. She poured a glass out and slid it to the end of the bar for pickup.
“I can be a perfect gentleman when I set my mind to it,” Dev persisted. “Even with you.”
“Jesus, would you stop? So I get to see you with your groupies instead? No, thanks.”
“It won’t be like that. How about this...” He laid his hands flat on the counter. “The first leg of the tour is six weeks long. You’re the boss. We keep it strictly business unless you decide otherwise.”
When she didn’t come up with an immediate protest, he pushed on. “Listen—I’ll pay you whatever you want. Have I mentioned where we’re going? We start in London. Then Paris, Italy, Germany. And then onto Australia. Sydney, Brisbane—”
Sydney. The word bounced around in Kiki’s head. Home to Webber Real Estate Agency, employer of Victoria O’Hare. A chance to solve the mystery. A chance to fill the empty ache that had been gouged into her at six years old.
But only maybe. Only if Victoria O’Hare was really who Kiki wanted her to be, which she probably wasn’t. And then there was the matter that she would be halfway around the world with Dev, a man she wanted to make her sex slave for all eternity. Who, in her most secret dreams, sang a song of his undying love to her.
Very bad idea.
“...anyway, you need a change,” Dev was saying.
Kiki felt her jaw tighten. Even if she did, the only person who was going to make that call was her. “How would you know what I need?”
“You moved from Atlanta to LA to go to university. You changed your major halfway through. You came here on your own two years ago. You switched from being an executive assistant to a bartender. Clearly you like to mix things up.”
Kiki couldn’t help her stunned look. On the night of his birthday party, Dev had been surrounded by groupies. Kiki hadn’t imagined he would even glance at her, but his eyes had stroked her all the way from her face down to her toes, lighting her body up like she’d been zapped with electricity. After that he’d suggested a walk on his private beach, and he hadn’t even made a move on her—instead he’d actually talked to her, asked her about her life and her family, until she’d grown weary of waiting and gone in for the kiss. She hadn’t imagined that he’d retained anything she’d told him, and yet he’d just recited most of it back to her. She squared her shoulders. “So, what—you think I’m just going to drop everything because Dev Stone asked me to? Sorry, but I’m not one of your worshipping fans.”
“Obviously.” He waited, sexy grin still in place, as if her protests were mere pebbles to kick away on her inevitable path to acceptance.
God, he was actually serious. It was true that Kiki had been a career girl once upon, making her way steadily up the ladder in LA, but that was before her ex-husband had crushed her dream of marital bliss and made building a new life her number one priority. She could see returning to the real world one day and starting over, but making the switch as Dev’s assistant? With him night and day, in hotel rooms with him, in his dressing room, on his tour bus, seeing him perform in all his hot glory?
“No way,” Kiki said firmly. “And that other thing you mentioned? That’s not going to happen, either. You’re leaving in two days, and I’m going to make it my mission to stay away from you until then. Just so you know.”
Dev gave her a slightly amused look, as if he knew something she didn’t, and then he slapped a hand down on the bar. “The offer is open until Tuesday morning.”
As Kiki watched him walk away and disappear into the crowd, she finally began to breathe normally again. His face remained etched into her brain, as did the words she knew she’d turn over in her head over and over again in bed tonight: I want to be inside you again. Dev Stone, the man who had ruined her for all others.
So much for getting laid tonight, Kiki thought.
ONLY SIX COOKIES LEFT? How the hell had that happened?
Kiki stared guiltily at the Chips Ahoy! package beside the open, crumb-riddled jar of Fluff on her coffee table. She didn’t even have the decency to binge on quality junk food—not that she had much choice. Her monthly shopping trip to neighboring Barbados was due next week, and in the meantime she was forced to make do with the paltry selection at the island’s tiny, overpriced grocery store.
A key rattled in the front door of her cottage and Kiki’s roommate, Nicola, walked in, trailed by Alex.
Kiki reached for another chocolate chip cookie.
Nicola gave Kiki a teasing smile as she tossed her work satchel onto the kitchen counter. “I thought you said you were cutting back?”
“This is me cutting back,” Kiki said grumpily, sinking her teeth into the dry, crumbly sweetness. She hoped to hell that enough time had passed since her recent crying jag to allow her face to return to normal. Nicola was the best friend she’d ever had; the women had known each other for a decade, meeting in LA long before Nicola had followed her to Moretta six months ago. And Kiki was genuinely thrilled that her friend had found true love with Alex, but she really didn’t feel like explaining herself to him or anyone else right now. She must