One of my requirements when I gave up control of the company was that I kept my father’s office. There have been changes since then, but some things—the fur rug in the conversation set, the big cherry desk, the Ireland picture on the wall—haven’t moved. Changing the pieces that seemed most like him felt wrong.
“Haley.”
Derek’s voice has me looking up from my desk Monday morning. Derek’s been around the block, and while he’s not bold, he understands this place. He knew my father better than I did, having worked at his side for nearly ten years.
He steps inside, pulling the door half-closed behind him. Where Shannon Cross was always dressed for the red carpet, Derek favors slacks and sweaters.
“Jax Jamieson’s coming in today.”
“And you’re afraid.” My mouth twitches at the corner. After two years, I feel as though I can tease him a little. He has kids of his own and a sense of humor.
“Cross used to deal with Jax personally. I figured that might run in the family.” He arches an eyebrow. “Given our unique deal, we agreed that you can call the shots on production, but I need to keep Todd involved since that’s his department. ” He glances at the clock. “See you in fifteen.”
As he disappears, I let out the breath I was holding. Sometimes I forget so few people know Jax and I go back.
Wicked’s rule about staff and artists not mixing hasn’t changed since Cross’s tenure. Not that anyone could fire me—I’m still part owner, and I don’t take a salary—but Derek wouldn’t be over the moon to learn about my history with Jax.
It’s moot, because Jax and I are nothing, I remind myself.
I go over my plan before I collect Serena. “You coming?”
She looks up from her desk, a gleam in her blue eyes. “Let’s see. The first and only guy who’s ever got you hot and bothered is back and you’re going to stick it to him. Plus,” she amends with an eye roll, “I think I’m doing the release plan for the album, so yeah. Be there in two.”
I make my way to the conference room.
Jax will be late. Although he had a near-photographic memory for the business side of the gig, he also knew that everyone here catered to him.
I expect him to put us off as long as possible. So I set down my things before taking a minute to look out the window, using the reflection to touch up my lipstick.
For the past five days, I’ve been wondering if this was even going to happen. I kept expecting to hear that Jax had called to tell us to go to hell. It wouldn’t be entirely unfair. But the fact that he’s in town does more than make my heart race.
It gives me hope.
“If I’d known it be the two of us, I would’ve brought drinks.”
The low, familiar voice drags down my spine like a caress.
I cap the lipstick and turn, careful not to wobble on my heels. They’re not what Serena would call “fuck me” shoes. No. These are “eat me” shoes—almost as high and pointier at the toe.
Jax fills the doorway. His shoulders are broader than I remember. His face is tan for April, and his jaw still a square angle. His hair is shorter at the sides, but still long enough on top to bend toward his forehead. He’s too many steps away for me to stare at his mouth.
Small mercies.
Jax looks good. Better than good. In a collared shirt, and… Jesus, are those chinos?
“Wasn’t sure I’d see the day,” I tell him, my voice surprisingly level.
“When I walked back in here? Me either.”
“I meant that you’d wear a belt without studs in it.”
Jax rounds the table, his amber gaze sending shivers down my spine. Never once does he break my gaze as he spans the distance between us.
He stops inches away, his attention skimming down my dress, lingering on my legs. Then it drags back up.
Jax Jamieson is still walking sex. I can’t tell if he’s thinking about me or music or what he had for breakfast, but his firm lips and bedroom eyes threaten to destroy every piece of armor I’ve put on.
He hasn’t aged, either. His face is strong and unlined, his nose straight, but as he leans, there’s a tiny bit of gray in his sideburns.
It shouldn’t be hot.
It’s totally hot.
“Nice lipstick,” he says, and I have to fight the urge to press my lips together.
I’ve watched him in the media and can’t remember a mention of him with someone. But then, Jax has always been good at keeping his private life private.
His mouth skims my cheek as he leans in to whisper, “If you wanted to fuck me, Hales, all you had to do was ask.”
My swallow fills the room.
“Am I interrupting?” Serena chirps from the door.
My eyes flutter shut for an instant, grateful for the reprieve.
Jax turns. “Skunk girl.”
Serena drops her folders and phone next to mine on the table. “Pretty boy.”
I take a seat next to Serena.
Jax drops into the chair facing our side of the table, looking around at the empty seats. “Let’s get this over with.” A knock sounds at the door, and Jax’s face clouds with suspicion. “What’s going on?”
Derek strides in with Todd. They’re followed by a guy with long red hair, a blond, and one with dark hair, twirling drum sticks.
Jax stares at them as though he’s seeing a parade of ghosts.
“Didn’t I tell you, Jax?” My voice is light. “We got the band back together.”
The look he shoots me is a mix of disbelief and incredulity, and it almost gets me back on even ground.
They say hello, exchanging bro hugs, except for Jax and Mace, who hug properly. Mace murmurs something I can’t hear, and Jax replies. They drop into seats next to him.
Derek starts. “Thank you for coming.”
“You didn’t give me much choice.”
“Music’s changing, Jax,” Todd, Wicked’s head of production leans in. “We don’t want to let more time go on before finishing the contract we agreed to. Which is why we’re cutting an LP.”
Normally I don’t give Todd a second look. He’s narrow-minded and chauvinistic, but I can’t help staring at him.
Jax beats me to it. “Full-length? Since when. I heard this would be an EP.”
“It is.” I shoot Todd a look, because we talked about this already.
The chance of going platinum—what I’d promised Derek—is higher with a full-length album. But I don’t think I can keep Jax here long enough to get that out of him. It could take months. Years.
“We need to remind people who you are,” Todd goes on. “Put you back on the map. That takes more than four tracks.”
I wait for Jax to tear holes in the other man, but he shows a control that’s new. “Right now we have zero,” he offers.
“We have one,” I interrupt.
“One track isn’t an album.”
“Then I suggest we get to work,” Todd says smoothly.
I grit my teeth. “Derek?”
“An LP will make more of an impact,” he says without looking at me.
Disbelief and betrayal compete in the back of my mind as Todd spreads his hands.
“So it’s settled. Welcome back, Jax.”
Todd grabs his files and stalks out, followed by Derek.
I shut my eyes. The sound of slow clapping has me opening them again.
Serena is already chatting up Kyle on the other side of the room. Mace and Brick are talking too.
I want to bury my head somewhere, but I force myself to meet Jax’s cold gaze.
“This place has gotten real entertaining. You guys plan this good cop, bad cop shit?”
“It’s a misunderstanding,” I say as I round the table to Jax.
“Tell me something.” The voice that has whispered all manner of sweet and dirty things in my ear cools more. “Who’s producing this ten-track marvel? Todd? Because if that prick’s in my studio—”
“The production team will be more than satisfactory. You have my word on that.” No matter what’s happened between me and Jax, he’s an artist. I’d never ask him to do work I thought would compromise that.
His mouth turns up in a smirk. He’s never been the tallest guy in a room, but he has the most presence. Some he built from being on stage, but some was always him.
I step closer, carried by bravado that’s unfounded when I realize I can smell his masculine scent. I fight the shiver that works through me. “I get it, Jax. You don’t want to be here. But to get this album done, we need a track list. If there’s anything Wicked can do to help, let me know.”
I meant it as a platitude, but Jax tilts his head. “How about some inspiration?”
His gaze drops to my mouth and I suck in a shaky breath. He’s all physicality, all masculinity, and even though he’s being an asshole I can’t pretend to be unaffected.
“Those red lips could do a lot to inspire me, babysitter,” he murmurs.
My stomach clenches.
In revulsion, because it can’t be anything else.
I know he’s screwing with me, because now I’m thinking of his cock. We did a lot of things together, but we didn’t get to that.
In this moment, I feel every day of the more than two years we’ve been apart, because each one of them contributes to the strength I need when I respond.
“Derek’s assistant will be in touch to book studio time,” I say coolly. “I trust Annie was able to get into school. I took the liberty of having her books arranged. And I pulled some strings to ensure her teachers understand her situation and that they’ll look out for her.”
His startled expression gives me the tiniest hit of satisfaction before I walk out the door.