Tempted By The Rock Star. Кейт Хьюит

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      ‘Because—’ What could he say? Because I saw such sadness in your eyes. He was being ridiculous. About a completely ridiculous woman. ‘You seemed troubled,’ he finally answered, because he didn’t dissemble or downright lie. He wouldn’t, not since that moment twenty-five years ago when he’d put his heart and soul on the line and hadn’t been believed.

      ‘Troubled?’ Her voice rang out, incredulous, scornful. Yet he still saw those shadows in her eyes, felt the brittleness of her confident pose, hands on hips, chin—and breasts—thrust out. She cocked her head, lashes sweeping downwards. ‘Aren’t you Mr Sensitive,’ she murmured, her voice dropping into husky suggestion that had the hairs on the back of Luke’s neck prickling even as his libido stirred insistently. It had been far too long since he’d been in a relationship. Since he’d had sex. That had to be the only reason he was reacting to this woman at all.

      She sashayed towards him, lifted her knowing gaze to his. Luke took an involuntary step backwards, and came up against the door. ‘I think you’re the troubled one, Mr Bossy,’ she said, and with a cynical little smile she reached down to skim the length of his burgeoning erection with her fingertips. Luke felt as if he’d been jolted with electricity. He stepped back, shook his head in disgust.

      ‘What is wrong with you?’

      ‘Obviously nothing, judging by your reaction.’

      ‘If I see a fairly attractive woman in her underwear, then yes, my body has a basic biological reaction. That’s all it is.’

      ‘Oh, so your little show of concern for my emotional state was just that?’ She stepped back, and her smile was now cold, her eyes hard.

      ‘You think I was coming on to you?’ He let out a short, hard laugh. ‘If anything, you’re the one who’s been coming on to me. I don’t even like you, lady.’

      She lifted her chin, her eyes still hard. ‘Since when did like ever come into it?’

      ‘It does for me.’

      ‘How quaint.’ She turned away and, reaching for a pair of jeans, pulled them on. ‘Well, you can breathe a sigh of relief. I’m fine.’

      And even though he knew he should leave—hell, he should never have come up here in the first place—Luke didn’t move. She didn’t seem fine.

      He stood there in frustration—sexual frustration now, too—as Aurelie piled all the clothes scattered around the room into a big canvas holdall. She glanced up at him, those stormy eyes veiled by long lashes, and for a second, no more, she looked young. Vulnerable. Then she smiled—he hated that cold, cynical smile—and said, ‘Still here, Bossy? Still hoping?’

      ‘I’m here,’ he said through gritted teeth, remembrance firing his fury, ‘because you’re a complete disaster and I can’t trust you to walk out of here on your own two feet. An hour ago you were passed out on the floor. The last thing I need is some awful exposé in a trashy tabloid about how pop princess Aurelie ODed in the break room.’

      She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, and here I was, starting to believe you were actually concerned about me. Don’t worry, I told you, I’m fine.’

      Luke jerked his head into the semblance of a nod. ‘Then I’ll say goodbye and thank you to use the back door on your way out.’

      ‘I always do. Paparazzi, you know.’ She smiled, but he saw her chin tremble, just the tiniest bit, and with stinging certainty he knew that despite her go-to-hell attitude, he’d hurt her.

      And even though he knew he shouldn’t care, not one iota, he knew he did. ‘Goodbye,’ he said, because the sooner he was rid of her, the better. She didn’t answer, just stared at him with those storm cloud eyes, her chin lifted defiantly—and still trembling. Swearing aloud this time, Luke turned and walked out of the room.

       Chapter Two

      “‘BRYANT’S REOPENING HIT exactly the right note between self-deprecation and assurance,’” Jenna read from the newspaper as she came into Luke’s office, kicking the door closed behind her with one high-heeled foot. She glanced at him over the top of the paper, her eyes dancing. ‘It was a total hit!’

      Luke gave a rather terse smile back. He didn’t want to kill Jenna’s buzz, but he hadn’t meant the reopening to be ‘self-deprecating’—whatever that was supposed to mean. A quick scan of the morning’s headlines had reassured him that the opening had been well received, if not exactly how he’d envisioned, and the till receipts at the end of the day had offered more proof. It was enough, Luke hoped, to continue the relaunch of Bryant Stores across the globe—if his brother Aaron agreed.

      He felt the familiar pang of frustration at still having to clear any major decisions with his brother, even though he was thirty-eight years old and had been running Bryant Stores for over a decade. He’d surely earned a bit more of Aaron’s trust, but his brother never gave it. Their father had set up the running of Bryant Enterprises in his will, and it meant that Aaron could call all the shots. And that, Luke knew, was one thing Aaron loved to do.

      ‘Getting Aurelie really worked,’ Jenna said. ‘All the papers mention her.’

      ‘They usually do,’ Luke answered dryly. He spun around in his chair to face the rather uninspiring view of Manhattan’s midtown covered in a muggy midsummer haze. He did not want to think about that out-of-control pop princess, or the shaming reaction she’d stirred up in him.

      ‘Apparently it was a stroke of genius to have her sing,’ Jenna continued, her voice smug with self-satisfaction.

      ‘Hitting the right note between self-deprecation and assurance?’ Luke quoted. The newspaper had managed to ridicule Aurelie even as they lauded the opening. Even if Aurelie is too washed up to reinvent herself, Bryant’s obviously can. Briefly he closed his eyes. How did she stand it, all the time? Or did she just not care?

      ‘Maybe you should have her perform at all the openings,’ Jenna suggested and Luke opened his eyes.

      ‘I don’t think so.’

      ‘Why not?’ Jenna persisted. ‘I know she’s a bit of a joke, but people still like her music. And the newspapers loved that we hired a has-been to perform … They thought it was an ironic nod to—’

      ‘Our own former celebrity. Yes, I read the papers, Jenna. I’m just not sure that was quite the angle we were going for.’ Luke turned around and gave his Head of PR a quelling look. He liked hiring young people with fresh ideas; he wanted change and innovation, unlike his brother. But he didn’t want Aurelie.

      Actually, the problem is, you do.

      ‘Maybe not,’ Jenna persisted, ‘but it worked. And the truth is that nobody wants the old Bryant’s any more. You can only coast on a reputation for so long.’

      ‘Tell that to Aurelie,’ he said, meaning to close down the conversation, but Jenna let out a sharp little laugh.

      ‘But that’s all she has. Do you know she actually wanted to sing something new—some soppy folk ballad.’ Jenna rolled her eyes, and Luke stilled.

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