Beautiful Crazy Part 15

"Tell me," he demanded gently, wanting desperately for her to confide in him. "What's going on in that gorgeous mind of yours? Is it last night?"

She shook her head. "The press didn't show today. I confirmed everything, and n.o.body showed up. When Sindra called to find out what had happened, the only explanation was a man had called to cancel, and the reporters were rea.s.signed or rescheduled."

A man had called and cancelled. The thin tendrils of suspicion began to unravel and reshape in his mind. Who had called? Kevan's body shook as she took a stilted breath. Still, he waited, sensing she needed to share at her own pace, not be forced by him.

"I was confused. Upset. I couldn't get ahold of her at first. Then I got really p.i.s.sed," she said. Mason used one hand to unclench a fist from his s.h.i.+rt. He spread her palm flat against his chest and patted it. Her voice was laced with anger and frustration. Wis.h.i.+ng he could swallow her pain, at the same time he admired her openness and honesty. She always gave so much more than he ever did. Yet another reason she could never be his permanently.

"I let it eat at me all day until it took on a life of its own." She paused and looked up into his face with sad eyes and lines furrowing her forehead. "I do that, you know." She rolled her eyes and tucked back into his arms, her soft body melting into his. "Give my feelings and thoughts their own lives. Active imagination."

"You think it was me?" Mason squeezed her tighter and couldn't hide the shock in his voice. He hoped he was wrong, but he knew he wasn't. She still didn't trust him. Would she ever?

She sighed again and stared up at his face, worrying her bottom lip, as if evaluating her options for a bigger decision. Like trusting him. If she trusted him a little, maybe they could move forward.

"Yes," she said simply. "I thought it might have been you. And I was p.i.s.sed. Mostly at myself for trusting someone like you... I mean, trusting a man again." Kevan scowled and pushed both palms on his chest, but he wasn't ever letting her go that easily. Ever? No. Now. Just for now. That's all I can offer her.

"I'm not wired like that. I promised a fair fight. Won't go back on my word, Bettie. You're going to have to trust me."

"I realized it couldn't have been you. Tina and Sindra are the only ones with the press list. Someone had to get the list from them, or maybe my email was hacked." She untangled herself from his arms and gently laid a palm to his cheek. "And it's not your style. You'd use the press coverage for your next power play. So, no, I don't think you'd sabotage that kind of opportunity," she said begrudgingly, her eyes watery and distant. "But I can't trust you. I'm sorry. I just can't."

The wistful smile she gave him before pulling away was equal to ripping his heart from his chest and throwing it to the ground. She couldn't trust him, and he couldn't share himself with her. Before giving in to the melancholy threatening to pour down on him, she tugged him toward the door. "Come on, big, bad, handsome man. Let's go have some fun and pretend we're two normal people out for a good time."

Normal. There was that word again. Funny, he didn't think he would ever be normal again.

Chapter 15.

Mason woke to an annoying and persistent vibration. Fuzzy from sleep, he lifted his head and looked around the cluttered cabin. The RV wasn't moving, which meant they must be in San Francisco. The buzzing halted, so he closed his eyes again, needing a few more minutes of blissful rest. The buzzing started again. Dammit.

He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked down at the source of his irritation. His phone was lying next to his pillow. He grabbed it and pushed "answer" before looking at the screen.

"Dillon," he barked into the speaker.

"Mason, it's Simone," a familiar hushed voice said. "Are you there?" she asked when he didn't answer.

"What do you want?" Although Mason saw no good reason for pretending she was still his loyal administrative a.s.sistant and he was the powerful boss, regret immediately clouded his mood. The s.h.i.+ft in power hadn't been her fault or doing. "I'm sorry, but it's early, and I'm busy. What do you need?"

He heard a long, drawn breath on the other end of the line. Was she nervous about something? "I only have a second, but you need to trust me. Do you have something you can write on?" He glanced around and jumped to grab his notepad and pen from the vanity. Simone may have been forced to work for Revell, but until then she had always been a dedicated and loyal a.s.sistant.

"Go ahead."

He wrote the name, number, and email she dictated to him.

"Here's the deal. I received a media alert email this morning from a producer at Fuse TV. They're doing a new twist on their popular web show Metal Heat Meltdown. They want to feature a rock icon interviewing an up-and-coming band. Manix Curse would be perfect."

"I take it Revell told you about the band?" Of course, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d probably went back to the office, complaining about Mason's threats, and then took credit for "discovering" Manix.

"Yes. Well, sort of. I did a little due diligence on my own. Anyway, sir, to get the interview, you'll need to deliver a performance video to them within two days. They'll send a crew out to tape, but they'll require a bigger venue than the clubs you've been playing."

"Like how much bigger?"

"At least twenty-five hundred people," she said, the words floating in the air like smoke before evaporating like his f.u.c.king future. "Before you say 'no,' I've already confirmed Manix Curse for tomorrow night at an outdoor theater at one of the community colleges in San Francisco." Oh, great. Not only would he fail, but he'd do so spectacularly.

"Mason. Are you still there?" Her tone was full of concern.

"Yes. There's no way this band can draw that kind of audience outside their local market with so little time." He set the notepad and pen down on the side table and sank back on the bed.

He heard tapping in the background. "I sent you the contact info for the event person at the college. You can do this. You've packed coliseums all over the world with a wave of your magic marketing wand. Twenty-five hundred metal kids is nothing, small potatoes, for you. You can do this."

"Simone-"

He could hear low voices on the end of the line. "I have to go. The film crew will be at the venue at six p.m. to set up. You need to make this happen. What do you have to lose?" The line went dead.

Good question. What did he have to lose? At this rate, he wondered if signing the band would even save his job. Jolted by that thought, Mason let it sink in. Would it save his job if he brought the band under the GEM umbrella? And, if it didn't, what would that mean? What did life look like for Mason Dillon without the letters GEM CEO after his name?

Maybe I'll get the girl. Whoa. Two mind-bending concepts in the span of a minute was too much. Probably better to focus on the short-term right now. The very short-term. How to get ten times the number of audience members in to see Manix Curse at a new venue. At the last minute. Sure, no problem.

He certainly couldn't do it alone. Another new thought. Ask for help. More specifically, ask the one person who specialized in social media and fan interaction. Kevan. Between the two of them, maybe they could pull this show together.

When he walked from the bedroom into the living area, she was already making coffee. She leaned against the counter with her back to him, an old-fas.h.i.+oned scarf wrapped in her hair and a cotton, floral s.h.i.+ft that reached midthigh, revealing part of the lacy tattoo that wrapped around her leg. Her luscious a.s.s was outlined perfectly through the thin material.

G.o.ddammit. He wanted her. Right now, over the counter, the vision in his head playing clearly. Like an X-rated movie starring Kevan. For a moment, he imagined her wetness s.h.i.+ny on his c.o.c.k as he pounded into her from behind. He felt his d.i.c.k stiffen. s.h.i.+t. Just standing there thinking about f.u.c.king her-not even touching her-and his c.o.c.k was at full mast.

"I heard you on the phone. Made you some coffee. No cream, a little sugar, right?" She glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze blanketed him, and her eyes went from placid to confused to coy. He hadn't seen that look since they'd last been in her bedroom. "Someone's sporting a little morning wood."

Her jibe snapped him out of his trance and into action. He stepped forward, brus.h.i.+ng his arm against hers, and heard a quiet intake of air. Good. "Little?" He raised a brow. "We both know that's not true, don't we?"

Her instant blush was perfect. "Oh, good, you put your a.s.s hat on already. Guess I don't have to pretend to be nice."

"Actually, I don't want to bicker with you this morning." He sat at the kitchenette and patted the seat next to him. She deliberately sat across from him. "I have a proposition for you."

She gaped at him. "You've got to be kidding."

He held up his hands in protest. "No, no. A business proposition. I received some information about an opportunity for Manix that could be huge."

Her face dropped. Mason took a bizarre kind of pleasure in watching how different emotions played out on her expressive face. Would he one day recognize all of her various feelings?

Ignoring the thought, he said, "But I need your help."

He explained the call he'd received and gave her the details about the Fuse TV web show. Mason watched as her wariness faded and her knee began to tap against the table. Her eyes grew bright, and her fingers twirled an unrestrained lock of hair, a habit signaling she was deep in thought or in planning mode.

His eagerness and impatience battled while she sorted out what he'd told her. Was she interested? Did she trust him enough to work on a project together? Just as he was about to interrupt her internal dialogue, she spoke.

"We need to call the Fuse guy and confirm. We need to create, print, and distribute posters early. Like this morning. We need to acquire some airtime on the local college and rock stations. We need to pummel the Internet with incentives and tidbits about the show. Really hook the local scene and get people excited."

Holy s.h.i.+t. Not only was she on board, she was already putting together an action plan. Was it weird that her ber-work-mode persona also made him hot?

When he stared at her, she slapped her hand on the table and glared at him. "Well? Call Fuse. I'm gonna call Sindra and get her started on a poster. I need to take a quick shower." She jumped up and started for the bathroom, but stopped and turned. She took a step back toward him. "Thanks."

"For what?" Didn't she realize she was bailing him out?

"For doing this. For the band. For me. Whatever happens. Thanks for asking for my help. It means a lot." She cupped his jaw in her soft hand and brushed a kiss on his bearded cheek.

He was motherf.u.c.king speechless. When he thought he understood her mercurial personality she went and changed the game on him. Would he ever be able to predict what she'd do or say next? Probably not. Probably best to enjoy the Kevan Landry ride for as long as he could.

Before she pulled away, he clutched her hand and brought it to his lips. They stayed like that, him sitting, holding her hand, and her standing next to him until Ben walked into the cabin for his morning coffee. She jumped away from Mason, greeted their driver, and ran off to take a shower.

While she got ready, he confirmed the arrangements with Fuse as well as the college stadium. Then he went to the other bus to notify Joe and rally the band. They would need to get out and spread the word. Once he and Kevan determined their strategy, they'd a.s.sign tasks, and everyone would hit the pavement.

When she emerged from the back room in jeans and her hair pulled back, he recognized the odd sensation that had been building in his chest the last day or so. There was a certain kind of rightness in all the craziness around them. The housing build, the shows-everything. It felt right. Being with her felt right. He actually did need her help. And it was okay. More than okay.

Empty s.p.a.ces being filled. By her silly humming, her constant activity, her color and l.u.s.t for life.

Kevan said good-bye to whomever she'd been talking to and sat at the table across from him. "Talked to Sindra." He must've looked confused, because she added, "Jolt's graphic designer. Anyway, she's working on the poster right now. She thinks we're going to run into trouble getting a printer at the last minute. The local big-box printer has some major equipment issue, so she's looking for a small press. But that may be out of the band's budget. So..."

"What? Just ask." He gave her a playful smile. "Since when is coy your MO?"

She laughed, her lip gloss as s.h.i.+ny as her gray eyes. "True. I was wondering if you could pull some big-bossy strings and see about getting someone to print the posters. And then pay for it. We'll send everyone out to plaster the great city of San Francisco."

"Consider it done. We can use a print house here in South Beach. I'll give them a call and let them know to expect the file. I also went over and talked to Joe. Everyone is waiting for us to give them the full scoop and directions." He looked at her pensively, hoping she wouldn't feel like he was trying to take over.

"It's like we were meant to be a team, cowboy," she blurted. Her eyes went as wide as saucers when she realized she'd said the words aloud. "I mean...you know...I meant that..."

Mason reached over and laid his hand over hers. G.o.d, every time he touched her it was an education in electricity. Invisible threads of fire sparked from their connection and shot straight to his chest. Though she tried to disguise her reactions to him, he could tell she felt it too. The s.h.i.+ft in her expression was obvious as her eyes turned gla.s.sy and hooded. Now was the time for work. But later was a whole other animal.

"Told you the other day, we're going to play this out one day at a time. Today, we're a good team. We'll worry about tomorrow when we get there."

She looked up and met his gaze. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, she said, "Okay."

"Kevan," he said, his voice low, "we both know there's something going on between us. Don't know what it is, and I'm not ready to put a name to it. But I'm not going to be able to keep my hands to myself much longer. I suspect you're not either."

"Yeah. That's what I'm afraid of." She stared at where their hands were joined and looked up and smiled at him before she pulled away and opened the laptop in front of her. "I need to start pimping the show online. Give me about thirty minutes to tweet, Facebook, Instagram, reddit, and log on to any local event forums. Then we can go over and talk to the band. Can you email the printer's info to Sindra? I texted you her address." She was in full-blown work mode as she tapped away on her computer, and it was s.e.xy as f.u.c.k. How the h.e.l.l was he ever going to go back to normal? That word-normal-was starting to sound boring and hollow.

f.u.c.k normal.

Hours later, Mason sat outside the radio booth of a local rock station and listened to Marco and Jax talk about their show that night at the Dog Bone Bar and the Fuse TV show while he stared at the high-tech sound board. The lights blinked, providing feedback to the producer. The industry had changed so much in the last ten years. When he'd started out, the boards were still populated with levers and switches. He missed this interaction, the day-to-day building of a band. He wondered what Kevan was doing, so he pulled out his phone and shot off a text.

How's it going?

He stared at the screen, waiting for her response like an eager teenage boy. f.u.c.k it. He didn't care anymore. He really only wanted to know how she was doing.

Checking up on me, cowboy? ;-) Yep. Send me a s.e.xt. A pic of your b.o.o.bs would be perfect. So I can see what you're doing.

Ha. Ha. Everyone is out plastering the town with posters and free pa.s.ses. Joe hit 2 record stores (who knew there were still so many). How're the interviews?

Great. Jax is really smooth, isn't he? He and Marco are awesome. Did Tina call back yet?

Kevan had called Tina earlier to see if she knew anything about the housing build media flop but hadn't been able to connect with her.

Mason looked up to see Jax and Marco stand and shake hands with the DJ. His phone beeped, notifying him of another text.

Yes. No.

He was beginning to suspect that something was very wrong with Kevan's relations.h.i.+p with Tina. She hadn't heard from her former a.s.sistant, even though she'd professed her undying loyalty to Kevan despite being let go. That chick was sketchy, but this seemed to be unusual behavior even for her.

1 more interview then back to the RV.

After the show that night, he planned on trying to convince Kevan that they were a good team in bed too.

Chapter 16.

Kevan woke wrapped in Mason's well-defined arms, surprisingly comfortable despite their bulk. When was the last time she'd felt so safe and content? She reveled in the solid warmth of him. For about thirty seconds. Then her heart began to beat so loudly she thought it would jump from her chest and run from the room. Her breathing became shallow, and her skin felt cold and clammy. Apparently, she'd fallen asleep sitting on his bed while they debriefed and planned after the show at the Dog Bone. Sleeping with him was far too intimate, especially without s.e.x. The connection between them was becoming too strong. If it had been just s.e.x, then she'd have been able to affect a feline stretch and purr her way back beneath him.

But this, this cuddling, was too much. It had made sense last night when they'd fallen onto his bed in exhaustion. It had felt so perfect when he'd wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against his body.

But now the walls of the small room felt even closer, more confining, so she began to crawl off the bed. She spied his neatly folded clothes on the dresser. Neat freak. And another reason of a billion why they didn't belong together.

Yesterday had been a long day, and she decided his morning should start later. She switched off his alarm clock before leaving the room for a shower. Stepping into the small confines of the RV shower stall, she let the warm water cascade over her head and wash away all her confusion. She soaped her body and rinsed her hair, watching the bubbles swirl down the drain. For once, she'd be open-minded and not bait Mason. She would make every effort to act like a grown-up and not a street kid with no manners.

With her new resolve in place, she stepped back into the living area, toweling her wet hair. Mason was already sitting in front of his laptop, talking on his phone, and didn't bother to look up as Kevan entered the room or as she went about her morning routine.

One call led to another and another and then a Skype call with the h.e.l.lfire guy. She worked on emails and the band's social media accounts while he talked. Not once did he ask her to join a call or share information. Apparently, the whole Team Landry-Dillon had a one-day expiration date.

Okay, so they weren't working together anymore. It was time for her to get out and promote as much as possible before the show that night. Instead of wallowing in her disappointment and acting like a petulant child, she sent a quick text to the band to meet her and got gussied up. She left the RV quietly, so as not to disturb Mr. CEO as he flexed his marketing muscles all over the place. Since San Francisco was known for its epic music scene, she had no trouble creating a list of appearances for the band before they hit the stage.

Hours later, when the Uber car dropped her off in front of the venue, Kevan was astonished to see a line wrapping around the outside wall of the big, open theater. Luckily, the band members had appealed to several local bands, who were eager to play and showed up with their own loyal fans. The place vibrated with rock-and-roll energy and was nearly packed by the time the show started.

Thankfully, the Fuse TV staff handled all the videography needs. She spent most of the show meeting with fans and local promoters, as well as updating the band's social media accounts. She might have also made an effort to avoid the Suit who seemed to be everywhere she wasn't. This type of bigger show seemed right up his alley, while she was definitely out of her comfort zone and trying not to look like it.

After the show, she stood in the green room, chatting with Jax, while Marco and Conner flirted with some groupies on a couch against the wall, and Mandi sat across from Joe, drinking beer. Members of one of the other metal bands had stuck around and were mingling with the fans and groupies.

"Now, we wait to find out if the show's producers are interested." Kevan twirled a lock of hair, trying not to wonder where Mason had sauntered off to. Give him his distance, she kept reminding herself, so they both could do their jobs.

"The way you and Dillon pulled this off. Together," Jax said, shaking his head, a hint of something in his smile.