Call On Me

Her eyes lit. “You could do that? They could have real-deal songs out there?”

Fuck. Me. He forced a smile. “If they have enough material and patience to put together a track or two. Recording can be tedious.”

She clapped her hands together. “Oh my god, that would be fantastic. They’ll think they’re stars! Imagine how proud they’ll be to have an actual song out that people can buy. I love this idea.”

Great. Fantastic. Shoot me. All he could picture was little kids running around his studio, screaming into the mics and climbing all over the expensive equipment. “How far along are they with having a full song ready to go?”

Tessa rolled her chair back. “Why don’t you go see for yourself? They’re working on it now in the music room.”

“We don’t have to—”

But Tessa was already cruising around the desk and grabbing for his hand. “Come on. They’ll be thrilled to meet you. They were so bummed when the other guy had to bail. But now they get to work with a genuine rock star!”

He snorted. “Marginally popular at best.”

And if his band didn’t get it together soon, they would be candidates for Where Are They Now? shows in the not so distant future.

His stomach knotted as Tessa led him down a hall filled with colorful drawings and finger-painted artwork pinned to the walls. He rubbed the back of his neck, finding sweat there. This was so not his scene.

But when they rounded the corner and Tessa stopped in front of a window that looked into a wide room, he forgot his discomfort for a minute. Ms. Uptight Receptionist was sitting in the middle of a circle of older kids, strumming a guitar and singing something. He couldn’t hear anything from outside the room, but the way her fingers moved over the strings was all confident elegance. Huh. The woman who had sneered at the idea of him being a musician appeared to be one herself.

And the tight-lipped, steel-spined posture she’d maintained during most of their conversation was gone, replaced with this sexy sway and bright-eyed smile. He let his eyes linger on her profile then travel down, watching the way her throat worked when she let out her notes and the way the swells of her breasts rose and fell with her breath. He adjusted his stance, willing his body not to react. Then Tessa cracked open the door, and Oakley’s sultry voice hit him in the gut—smooth water over jagged rocks. Every ounce of his blood traveled straight south.

Goddamn. If a voice could be fuckable, hers was. And the woman attached to it wasn’t hard to look at either. Dark hair and eyes that went cat green when she was annoyed—which had been about ninety percent of their interaction. He’d wanted that tour more than he’d let on just so he could keep teasing her and making those pink lips of hers purse. He put a hand on Tessa’s shoulder. “Don’t interrupt her.”

Tessa looked over at him with a knowing smile. “I told you she was pretty amazing.”

“Is that who I’m going to be working with?”

“Mmm-hmm. She works reception in the mornings, but once the kids get here after school, she helps out with them. If we do this project, I’ll find someone else to cover the desk so that she can take this on fully.”

“We met up front. I don’t think she likes me very much,” he said, keeping his voice low and his eyes on Oakley.

“Let me guess. You flirted with her.”

He glanced over at Tessa, feigning an innocent Who-me? expression.

Tessa sniffed. “I knew she sounded weird on the phone. You Ranch boys are a menace.”

“Hey, you’re married to a Ranch boy.”

“I stand by my statement.” She glanced at the room and the woman in it. The singing had stopped and Oakley was directing the kids on something or other. “If you want to get along with Oakley, lay off that kind of thing. She has a lot on her plate and likes to keep things professional. She doesn’t strike me as someone who’s looking for a walk on the wild side, anyway.”

“Who says I’m the wild side?”

Tessa gave him a withering look.

“Fine. If she wants to keep things professional, I can do that.”

Mostly. Maybe.

Tessa’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she shook her head. “Come on, let’s go in and do introductions so y’all can start planning.”

When they walked in, the kids were all chatting at once. But one voice rang above the others.

“I swear to God, if she mentions another One Direction song, I’m going to puke,” said a young girl with short-cropped black hair and a Runaways T-shirt. “That’s all we did last week. Their songs make me want to punch someone in the face.”

Pike had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Reagan,” Oakley said sharply. “That isn’t how we share our opinions here. Be respectful.”

Mini Pat Benatar turned her green-eyed gaze to Oakley. A little bit of a staring contest ensued, then Reagan finally gave in and turned to the girl she’d been addressing. She let out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “I’m sorry. One Direction songs make my stomach hurt, and I would really like it if we could do something different.”

She punctuated the sentence with a toothy, plastic smile.

Pike instantly liked her.

The boy-band fan clearly did not, though. The blond girl crossed her arms and sneered. “At least it’s not as bad as your weird music. No one’s even heard of the stuff you like.”

“Okay, let’s get back on task,” Oakley said, a tired edge to her voice.

Tessa stepped forward out of the shadowed back of the room. “Sorry to interrupt, guys. But I wanted to introduce you to someone.”

Oakley turned and her gaze landed heavy on Pike. For a split second he caught her raw reaction—lips parting, gaze flicking down the length of his body as if she couldn’t resist a full look. But as quickly as it was there, she reeled it in. Wariness descended over her face, but like the younger girl, she managed to fake a smile, clearly more for the kids’ behalf than his. All the other heads in the room turned toward him, too—most of the kids staring at him with open curiosity. Tension coiled in his neck and shoulders.

“Everyone, this is Mr. Ryland. He’s going to be taking Mr. Gull’s place and has kindly offered to help with your song project.”

“You’re in a band,” Reagan blurted out. Not a question.

The outburst startled Pike out of his stiff posture. Oakley turned to correct Reagan. But he interrupted her before she could. “How’d you guess? You know Darkfall?”

Reagan crossed her arms, her eyes not meeting his but looking at the rest of him instead. “No. But your ears and eyebrow are pierced and you have lots of tattoos. Some have music notes and drumsticks in them. It’d be pretty dumb to get those if you weren’t in a band.”

His lips tilted up. “Yeah, I guess it would be.”

“My mom says all tattoos are pretty dumb, though.”

“Reagan,” Oakley corrected, pressing fingers to the spot between her eyes.

He laughed. He liked that the kid didn’t mince words. Plus, the fact that this girl had plucked out details from his intricate full sleeve tattoos from across the room was pretty impressive. “I guess your mom would think I was a big dummy then.”

Some of the kids in the group giggled and others started to announce who had tattoos in their family.

Oakley shook her head at the quickly deteriorating order in the group and then clapped her hands. “All right, all right. Let’s get quiet so Mrs. Vandergriff can talk.”

The kids settled after a few more seconds, and Tessa went on to explain what Pike had proposed—making a real record. Controlled chaos broke out again after that, the kids cheering, tossing out suggestions on songs, and planning their mansions in the Hollywood Hills for after they became famous. The only ones who weren’t bubbling with excitement were Oakley and Reagan. Reagan was sitting quietly, a thoughtful, intense expression on her face. And Oakley looked as if she’d just been told she had a meeting with an executioner.

“Ms. Easton, can we steal you for a minute so we can work out some details?” Tessa asked.

Oakley instructed the kids to gather into two small groups and to brainstorm on what songs they wanted to work on the most, then she headed over to where Pike and Tessa were.

Tessa put a hand on Pike’s shoulder. “Oakley, I know you two have already met at the front, but I wanted to officially introduce you. Pike’s a good friend of Kade’s brother, Gibson, and he’s also the drummer in Darkfall.”

Oakley didn’t look a bit impressed by this news. She stuck out her hand formally. “Nice to meet you.”

Pike took her hand. It was ice cold as he wrapped his fingers around it. She tried to pull back quickly, but he wasn’t letting her get away with that. He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. “Likewise, Ms. Easton.”

He released her hand when she gave another minuscule tug and flashed a warning with her eyes.

“Pike is doing us a huge favor to take time out for this,” Tessa said. “So I really need you to help him in whatever way you can on this project.”

He smiled. He could think of some interesting ways she could help him. Oakley wouldn’t look his way.

“This will be our flagship project this year,” Tessa continued. “And it’d be great to unveil at least one song at the annual benefit dinner. It’s important for those who donate to us to see what we can do.”

Oakley nodded. “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“It may take extra hours,” Tessa said, looking over at the kids and missing the barest wince from Oakley.

“Extra hours?” Oakley asked.

Tessa nodded. “I was thinking you can make use of your time in the mornings. I’ll find someone to cover the desk in the meantime. But I have a feeling this will end up being a lot of informal time not here at the office since, Pike, I’m assuming your schedule is a little erratic.”

“It’s not nine to five, for sure,” he said, watching Oakley shift and her shoulders droop. The woman did look tired. Maybe extra hours were a hardship.

“I figured. So, don’t feel like you have to keep everything here at the office within a certain time slot. You two do what you need to do to get this done on a schedule that works best for you. Let me know whatever overtime you log and keep me up to date.”

Oakley gave a curt nod and smile to Tessa. “Of course. I’m sure I can get most of it done on my own and won’t have to bother Mr. Ryland too much.”

He smirked. So she was trying to get rid of him already. And though when he walked in, he would’ve happily taken the opportunity to have as minimal a role as possible, now he wasn’t so sure. “It’s not a bother at all. I’m looking forward to working closely with you. No use of bringing me in if you’re not going to take advantage of my skills.”

Her small smile radiated sarcasm, but she managed not to say anything snide in front of her boss.

“Fantastic,” Tessa said, oblivious to the silent exchange. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. And dinner’s on me. Take tonight to make up a rough plan of what needs to be done and when and we’ll go from there.”

Oakley’s gaze darted back to him. “Tonight?”

But Tessa was already strolling out the door.

Pike hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Guess it’s a date, then.”

Her lips thinned. “Not a date. Work.”

He grinned, unperturbed by her chilly response. “How can you not like me already? Usually it takes women at least a time or two to give me that look. And usually they get something out of the deal first.”

She blinked, then that cat-eye green came back into her eyes. “You really have to ask?”

“Yeah. I’m asking. What did I do to you?” He leaned a little closer. “Well, besides make you think really impure thoughts at work. Because let’s face it, that totally happened. It may be happening right now. With children present, no less. Are you thinking impure thoughts, Ms. Easton? You can tell me.”

“Does wishing bodily injury upon someone count?”

He laughed. “Kinky.”

She stared at him for a long second, looking as if she may maim or dismember him, but then she blew out a breath. “Look, I’m sure you’re having fun, but I’m not playing this game. You’re here to volunteer. Great. The kids are going to love it.”

“But you’re not.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s not about me.”

“You’re saying you don’t need the help?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the kids, her expression softening before she turned back to him. “We always need the help. Sure. But this job means a lot to me. These kids mean a lot to me. And to be frank, I don’t have time to cater to some celebrity who’s here to put in time with the poor kids for the sake of a press clipping.”

He frowned, all playfulness draining out of him. “You think that’s what this is about?”

She shrugged. “Why else would you do it?”

He opened his mouth but then shut it again. If he said he was doing it for the sake of the kids, that’d be a lie. It’s not like he would’ve strolled down here on his own out of the goodness of his heart. But he sure as hell wasn’t doing it for the press. “I couldn’t give a shit what the media says about me.”

She crossed her arms, unconvinced.

He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m doing it as a favor to my friends, all right?”

She considered him a moment longer then gave a brief nod. “Fair enough. You really want to help, then I’ll be done at six. We can go to the Italian place on the corner. But I need to be home by eight.”

“Hot date?”

She leaned closer than he would’ve expected, right near his ear. “Yeah, with my daughter.”

She gave him an angelic smile when she stepped back, then turned on her heel to head back toward the kids, leaving him staring after her. When she passed mini-Benatar, who was cross-legged on the floor, she ran her hand over the child’s head and smiled down at her.

Well, hell.

Oakley had a kid.

At least now he knew which mom thought tattoos were dumb.

FIVE

Oakley smiled to herself as Pike rattled off timelines and tasks in between bites of calzone. He’d been all business since they’d sat down in the back corner of the little dive restaurant. Her tactic had worked. It usually did. Childless men found out she was a mom and ran away like their ass was on fire.

Pike seemed to be no exception. Since she’d informed him that she had a daughter, he’d turned off the flirt. A small, selfish part of her was disappointed. Not that she had any interest in pursuing anything with anyone right now, especially with someone like him, but it had been kind of heady getting that kind of attention thrown her way. If nothing else, it had reminded her that the sexual part of herself wasn’t totally dead. Even now, that warm energy hummed through her as she surreptitiously watched Pike lick a dollop of red sauce off his thumb. He had a pouty bottom lip that would look feminine if not for the hard angle of his jaw and the scruff. She kind of wanted to bite it—see if it felt as plump as it looked.

He glanced up, caught her staring, and smiled. “So, wanna screw in the bathroom?”

She startled and stiffened, instantly yanked out of her less-than-PG thoughts. “What?”

He leaned back in his chair, vague confusion on his face. “I asked if you wanted to keep working in that back room? We could rehearse at the studio once they’re close to being ready to record. But until then, it’s probably more trouble than it’s worth to cart everyone over there. It’s not that big of a place.”

“Rehearse in the back room?” she repeated, running the words back in her head to make sense of them. “Oh, right, yes, that’s fine. I’m sorry. I thought you said something else.”

She eyed the small Bellini she’d ordered with her meal. Maybe that had been a bad idea. She was hearing things now.

Screw in the bathroom? How the hell had she gotten that out of what he’d said? Of course, now all she could think of was him doing just that—taking her by the elbow and leading her to that dark alcove at the back of the restaurant, pushing her up against that wall with the faded Italian flag on it, and putting his hands all over her. She licked her top lip, tasting the sweet remnants of her drink. Pull it together, woman.

Apparently, once her libido had been brave enough to peep its head out, it had decided it was Groundhog Day and needed to run around, declaring spring was coming early. She hated to break the news, but nothing and no one was coming anytime soon.

“What did you think I said?” Pike took a long sip from his drink, his snake-charmer eyes never leaving hers.

She followed suit, hoping the fruity drink would cool off more than her throat. “Doesn’t matter.”

His lips twitched. “You’re all red.”

“I think it’s the Bellini. I don’t drink very often.”

“No way.” His expression turned smug. “You thought I said something dirty, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” She smoothed her napkin in her lap, trying to loosen the tightness in her voice. “No. Why would I think that? You’ve been very professional since we got here—which I appreciate, by the way.”

His gaze slid lazily down her body, like butter melting over toast, and goddamn it all to hell, she could feel her nipples go hard and obvious beneath her bra. No wonder he’d figured it out. Her body was waving all kinds of flags in his face. Hey! Over here! Horny girl, booth eight!

“I am capable of being professional, you know,” he said, but his tone was all sex and sin. “I’m also more than happy to turn that off when the occasion calls for it. So why don’t you tell me what you thought you heard and why it’s gotten you all flushed and nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

He grinned.

Dammit. She schooled her face into a stoic expression. “The music is too loud in here. I thought you propositioned me to defile the restroom.”

His eyebrow ring twitched. “Now you’re just trying to turn me on with those big, stiff words of yours.”

All she heard was big and stiff at first, but she managed to rein in her temporary insanity. “We’re so not going to do this.”

“Well, probably not here, you’re right. I saw those bathrooms. But—”

“No, I mean, any of this. Flirting. Teasing. Whatever this is.”

He leaned onto his forearms, looking all too pleased that he’d gotten a confession out of her. “You got a guy?”

“No,” she said before she could get wise and fib.

“Then why can’t we do this?”

“Because I’m not interested.”

“Liar.”

She huffed. “Are you always this cocky?”

“No, it’s dialed down right now. I can get way worse.”

She stirred her drink. “Not. Possible.”

His lips spread into a menacing smile. “Challenge accepted.”

“No, that’s not—”

But he was already getting up from his side of the booth. He slid smoothly into the spot next to her on the cracked vinyl seat. He put his arm along the back of the booth, near to touching her, and leaned in close. “I dialed it back because what I could’ve said was how if you heard what you heard, it must’ve been on your mind already. That those pictures must be there in your head. Were we in a stall? Or bold as you please up against a wall?”

“Stop,” she said softly, somehow frozen in place, the clean scent of his shampoo mixing in with the heavy oregano smell of the restaurant and making her head spin.

“So that was it, huh? Against the wall where anyone could’ve walked up and seen? That would’ve been hot. Legs wrapped around my hips. I could’ve unpeeled all these layers you’ve wrapped yourself in.” He touched the collar of her blouse but not skin. “I could’ve also said that I saw the want in your eyes before I knew what question you’d thought I’d asked. That your body jumped to attention like I’d stroked you. That you can tell me no and to shut the fuck up. But you can’t tell me that you’re not interested because I can see that truth all over you.”

She swallowed hard, fighting her body’s response as he let his gaze drift down and over her curves. No way was she going to let him get to her like this. She did this for a living. She talked dirty to men every damn night and they talked dirty back. But never had words rushed through her system like these. Every part of her was now achingly aware of just how long it’d been since she’d let a man touch her. But there was no way she’d allow herself to act on it with him. She cleared her throat.

“Does this usually work for you? A little dirty talk whispered in a woman’s ear and she’s all over you? Or maybe you just tell them you’re in a band and that’s enough.” She turned to send Pike a frosty look. “Back off, Mr. Ryland. You’ve entered a restricted area.”

His eyes flared with heat, like her attitude only turned him on more, but he moved back and gave her space. “If you think that’s dirty talking, you’ve been seriously deprived.”

She pointed. “Back to your side.”

He raised his palms. “Not a problem. All I want to know is why not?”

Because attraction clearly wasn’t the issue. Her traitor body had announced that loud and clear to him.

“Because this is my job, and this project is important to me. I’m not going to muddy the waters by crossing any lines with you. Plus, I’m a mom.”

“So? I’ve heard rumors that moms get lives, too.”

No, they didn’t. Not really. Not when there was no dad in the picture, two jobs, and a kid with special needs.

She barely resisted rolling her eyes. “Come on, Pike. I know we don’t know each other yet, but why in God’s name would you come barking up this tree? The groupie business running low? You’ve got to have women with much simpler lives who want to play the hookup game with a big-time drummer.”

His jaw tensed, expression darkening.

She sighed. This was probably about ego, challenge, and all that male bullshit. If she let him take her to the bathroom and do what he suggested, he’d be over it by the time he got home. And then everything would be weird between them for the rest of the project. She needed to clear this air and move on. Tessa had told her this afternoon that there could be a promotion in her future—project coordinator. A job that would allow her to quit the night gig. But it hinged on how well she did on this major project. She wasn’t going to let some misguided attraction on her part or bruised ego on his part thwart that.

“Look, Pike. Yes, there’s attraction. Maybe an inappropriate thought or two crossed my mind, but this has to stay professional. I don’t have time or interest in anything outside of that.”

Especially with a musician. Hell. No.

His gaze held hers for a moment longer, and she almost got lost in the mix of ambers and greens in his hazel eyes, but finally he dropped the eye contact and slid out of her side of the booth. “Okay, then. Let’s get back to hammering out a rehearsal schedule. I have to be honest, your drummer needs more than a little work.”

Oakley seemed startled by his quick acquiescence and shift in subject, but he’d heard the message with ringing clarity. If he’d learned anything in life, it was how to not linger where he wasn’t wanted. And really, Oakley had been one hundred percent right. What business did he have chasing a woman like her?

She lived a normal life, had responsibilities, and a child to worry about. She’d want some guy who fit into that—a nine to fiver with a steady job who played golf on Saturdays and went to church on Sundays. A guy who wouldn’t show up at her place and make all the people in suburbia whisper about his weird haircut and his inked skin.

This was why he tended to stick to the twentysomethings who hung around after shows. Those women knew what they were getting into with him—sought it out. He was the thrill. The dare. The shocking story to tell to their girlfriends after they’ve settled down behind their white picket fences and are remembering those crazy days right out of college.