Lyrical Press, Incorporated

Rockstar

Copyright © 2009 Mina Carter

Edited by Charlotte Cowie

Book design by Emma Wayne Porter and Renee Rocco

Cover Art by Renee Rocco

Lyrical Press, Incorporated

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PUBLISHER’S NOTE:

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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Published in the United States of America by Lyrical Press, Incorporated

First Lyrical Press, Inc. electronic publication: February, 2009

Rockstar

By Mina Carter

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

About Mina Carter

Also Available by Mina Carter

Also Available from Lyrical Press, Inc.

Dedication

To Charlotte, Will and Doug. The best editor and support team out there!

Chapter 1

Men the world over wanted to fuck Zette Matthews. The outrageously curvy singer had a figure to tempt a saint and a voice that said dirty things. Things that got a guy hot and hard just hearing her sing in that come-to-bed voice. Jarrett Jensen, JJ to his friends, was one of them. With one exception. He intended to make those fantasies a reality.

He stood by the window in his expansive office, hands shoved carelessly in his pockets. The sharp suit he wore concealed a surprisingly muscled frame, well for a businessman anyway. Especially one like JJ. A rolling tsunami of sheer willpower, he appeared to exist solely in the confines of boardrooms and business meetings, moving from one to the next as he propelled Jensen Industries to the top of the corporate ladder.

Somewhere, somehow though, he found time to exercise. The hotels he chose to stay in always had a top notch gym and a pool so he could siphon off some of the energy that coursed through him daily. It had gotten to the point years before where he’d learnt to force himself into exercise, in an attempt to exhaust his body and, hopefully, quell the endless activity of his agile mind.

It didn’t work often though. He just added his daily workout to his schedule and kept up the punishing routine that had gotten him to where he was today. CEO of JI. There was even a rumour floating around the Jensen head offices that JJ had ceased to need sleep a couple of years ago, like some strange executive version of a vampire that existed solely on a diet of coffee and sheer adrenalin.

It wasn’t quite accurate but some days it seemed near enough to the truth. Especially when he could almost smell the closure of a deal or a takeover… pulling back-to-back meetings and all nighters with an ease that gave him an almost God-like reputation among the executives in the company. One that was built on his own merits, not just because he was the Old Man’s grandson. His lips quirked at that thought; it had always been a battle of wills between them. Even now that battle extended beyond the grave, Charles Jensen still trying to rule JJ’s life. Well, no more. JJ was about to wrest that power from him for good. The smile broadened as he looked out onto the London skyline, enjoying a rare moment of solitude and actual inactivity.

Time to reflect.

Time to savour his triumph as he killed two birds with one stone; getting one over on the old man who’d ruled his orphaned grandson’s life with a rod of iron and one on the woman who’d scorned and rejected him all those years ago. Granted she’d been little more than a child then, barely eighteen, but there were some things a man didn’t forget and a rejection from a gold-digger was one of them.

His hazel eyes glinted in satisfaction as he looked out the window. His attention wasn’t on the view, fantastic as it was. He was used to stunning views like this from every office and apartment he called his own. Luxuries like that were just some of the perks of money.

But the view he wanted to see wasn’t from a window. Behind him, spread open on the expansive desk was a file containing the usual legal mumbo-jumbo he navigated on a day-to-day basis. But in the middle of it all lay the centre spread for one of the expensive glossy magazines. The main picture was of Zette spread across a lush bed in one of her trademark corsets, her hair spread around her like a cloak and a sexy look in her come-hither eyes. That was the view JJ wanted to see, in his own bed, and one he was intent on making a reality very, very soon.

Provided of course he got through this meeting alive. He had no doubt Zette would be pissed when she stormed through those doors, intent on giving him a right dressing down… he paused, corrected himself… no, intent on giving the head of Anders Entertainment a right dressing down. His lips curved in a wicked little smile. At this moment she had no idea that the man she was expecting to see and JJ were one and the same.

If she did, he was fairly sure she’d refuse to show for the meeting she’d finally managed to get with him, browbeating the receptionist on the front desk and running the gauntlet with various people until she reached his PA. Or at least the woman they’d assigned as his PA after his swift and unpublicised takeover of Anders Entertainment two weeks ago. His deliberately unpublicised takeover.

He had to admire her persistence and determination though. It couldn’t have been easy to get this morning’s appointment, especially when he’d forbidden his new staff to agree to one until he gave the order. He had to be sure he had everything set up before he sprung the trap. He straightened as a car pulled into the entrance below, disappearing under the canopy outside reception. She was here.

JJ smiled, his voice soft in the large office. “Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly.”

* * * *

She’d arrived.

Zette took a deep breath, mentally composing herself for the battle ahead as the limo door opened. She hated riding in it, preferring to drive herself. Except in London. She just didn’t have the aggressive nature to cope with driving in London, getting flustered too easily, so the limo it had to be. She slid to the edge of the seat, reaching for the slim leather file next to her, the heavy silver bangle on her wrist peeking out from under her cuff for a second as she slid from the vehicle with well-practised ease.

Rockstar 101, she thought with a smile as she realised she’d clenched her knees together, crossing them on automatic as though she was wearing a micro miniskirt with a horde of photographers all eager to discover what colour her panties were for tomorrow's headline photo. She shuddered, well used to that sort of human piranha; glad that today at least, she could get out of a vehicle without getting blinded by flashes. She stood, smiling at the chauffeur as he got the door for her. They’d have been disappointed today anyway; Zette’s voluptuous figure was encased in a rather severe business suit.

It was an effort to fit into the world she had to deal with today to save her Midsummer Night’s Dream concert from being a ‘failed before it got started’ effort rather than the raging success she wanted it to be. Knew it was going to be.

Everyone liked a charity concert, it made them feel good to be doing something for a good cause and she’d put a lot of effort into making sure that all the money collected would be going to the various chosen causes. With the line-up she had organised, it should be a resounding success. It couldn’t possibly be anything else.

The trouble was, with the suit on and her mass of sable hair scraped back into a businesslike pleat, she felt completely out of place. Like a young girl playing dress up with her mother’s clothing and pretending to be all grown up.

She sighed and tugged at the jacket, smoothing it over her ample hips and wishing she was dressed in her usual comfortable jeans. Her fingers brushed the steel bones of the corset she wore, almost hidden under the severe jacket and she smiled. Her confidence returned at the small reminder of who she was, adding an extra sassy sway to her walk as she headed into the reception hall.

“Zette Matthews, I have an appointment at eleven with Mr. Anders,” she announced to the young blonde on reception, hiding a smile at the younger woman’s double take as she heard Zette’s distinctive smoky, sultry voice and connected it with the rather petite woman who stood in front of her.

Zette ignored the look, used to it by now. People always seemed to expect her to be taller. Probably because her stage persona was so much larger than life, her singing voice on the lusty side of powerful.

“Oh yes! Welcome to Anders Entertainment, Ms. Matthews! We didn’t expect to see you just yet,” she admitted, explaining some of her surprise to see Zette, glancing at the clock on the opposite wall.

It read five to eleven.

Zette sighed mentally. Along with expecting her to be taller there were also those who expected her to be the prima-donna stereotype just because she was a celebrity. Continually late, temper tantrums, etc. It was a misconception that totally got on Zette’s nerves. She never had been the sulky rock-chick type and she didn’t intend to start any time soon.

She hid her irritation well and smiled. “I always like to be early for an appointment,” she admitted. “I know I get cranky if I’m waiting on someone, doesn’t seem fair to expect them to wait for me.”

“Of course, of course. If you’ll just take a seat for a moment, I’ll call up to Mr. Je… I mean Mr. Anders’s assistant. Can I get you anything whilst you wait? Tea, coffee…” She trailed off, looking at Zette expectantly, the receptionist patter honed to perfection.

“No, thank you, I’m good.” Zette replied on automatic, moving over to take a seat and admiring the view from the wall to wall windows overlooking a rather nice landscaped garden. She liked gardening. After the hectic whirlwind her life became sometimes it was nice to grub around in the dirt weeding. Plants didn’t care who or what she was, they didn’t ask questions or flash cameras at her and sometimes she needed that tranquillity.

She really didn’t expect to be kept waiting long. To do that would be incredibly rude, not to mention could damage future relations, she mused. Although she was here today to discuss a charity, aka non-profit, event, one for which Anders Entertainment had pledged the use of Swithland Park, there was also the fact that Zette was an artist in her own right. One who toured frequently. Tours that were not charity events and would also need venues.

She just hoped this guy remembered that, and she could use that bit of leverage to her advantage. Tucking the file with her papers in by her thigh she checked covertly around, to see if anyone was watching her. The two receptionists were intent on the screens in front of them and the rest of the entrance lobby was empty. Zette felt safe to wriggle a little, using her jacket to cover as she rearranged her corset a little to display her cleavage to its best advantage.

Never pass up a little va-va-voom, you never knew when it might come in handy. Of course, she didn’t expect this Anders to be some handsome young stud but hopefully he wouldn’t be that far into his dotage that she couldn’t indulge in a little light-hearted flirtation. A flirtation that, with the solid facts and figures her team had prepared, would hopefully ease whatever worries he had over hosting Midsummer Night’s Dream at Swithland.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, Zette didn’t realise she had company until someone, a male someone, cleared their throat at her side. Startled Zette looked up, her eyes colliding with a pair of striking hazel-green ones.

Hazel-green eyes she recognised.

“Hello Zette,” JJ said quietly. “Long time, no see.”

* * * *

She closed her eyes on a shiver, that familiar smooth-as-silk voice sliding over her senses like a caress.

Instantly she was eighteen again and in the grip of her first desperate love, for her step cousin JJ. She’d had a crush on him since her mother had married Robert Jensen and she’d been introduced to her new family, the quiet plump daughter of her social butterfly mother, Ariadne. He’d been fourteen to her eleven and seemed so grown up, so confident. Quite unlike the shy Zette. She’d watched him for years, secretly admiring him, wishing he’d notice her. See her as a woman rather than an irritating kid sister.

Finally, at her eighteenth birthday party, he had. It had been a magical evening, she’d felt so grown up in the evening dress her mother had picked out for her. And JJ had obviously noticed, catching her hand and pulling her away from the party into the shadows by the boathouse.

“I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he admitted, a moment before his lips claimed hers in a gentle kiss that blew her innocent, naive mind. It was the perfect kiss and should have been the perfect end to the perfect evening.

It had been an end all right, but nothing like a perfect one. Not from Zette’s point of view anyway. An end she’d have never seen coming, not in a million years. Their perfect kiss had marked the beginning of the end and a huge change in Zette’s life. A change that had left her heartbroken and alone.

She’d left her bag. Dropped on the seat by the boathouse as JJ had kissed her, she hadn’t realised it was gone until she’d returned to her room, filled with pink and white frills more suited to a six year old than a young woman. She stood in the middle of the room, nibbling her lower lip. A bad habit when she was stressed or nervous. She had to go and look for it. It had been a gift, one of her birthday presents and she didn’t want to lose it. Besides if anyone had found it, they’d know she’d been down near the boathouse which could have led to all sorts of questions she didn’t want to answer. Particularly as the only person that stayed down there was JJ. No, she had to go and fetch it.

Decision made, she crept back out, checking through the debris of the now finished party, retracing her steps until she made her way down to the boathouse. Her steps were lighter, her very spirit buoyed up by the possibility of seeing JJ again. Hopefully he’d still be awake... would he kiss her again? She hoped so. She might even manage to surprise him getting ready for bed, without his shirt on. This time, with what had passed between them, she could look her fill instead of looking away or burying her nose in a book like she usually did around the pool.

No more sneaky glances and covert looks! JJ loved her, he had to. Otherwise he wouldn’t have kissed her like that, would he? With so much tenderness and restrained passion. Innocent though she was, some feminine part of her recognised a man who was holding himself in check. The thought of JJ holding himself in check thrilled her. She wanted to break through his restraint, taste the passion she knew first-hand was hiding there. Her first lover.

“Lush armful ain’t she? Bit plump for my tastes but good for a roll in the hay.” Her stepfather’s voice broke through her daydreams, stopping her in her tracks in the shadows.

The voice had come from the open French doors at the side of the boathouse. Zette crept forwards, her recovered bag in her hands. Robert must have come down to check on JJ after the party. For some reason his uncle always seemed to think JJ needed the ‘guidance of a father’ after having lost both parents in a skiing accident when he was just six. So Robert had set himself up in that role, despite the fact that he had no kids of his own.

She edged toward the pool of light until she could see in through the doors. JJ and his uncle were sprawled in the leather easy chairs, heavy whiskey tumblers filled with the amber liquid in their hands. JJ shrugged, knocking back the contents of his glass in a careless swallow, the powerful muscles of his throat working.

“She’s okay, a pretty little thing,” he replied offhand, a reply that froze Zette’s heart in her chest. She was okay? Just okay? What about the kiss earlier, was that just okay? Hadn’t it meant anything to him?

Robert’s laugh twisted the knife that stabbed her gut. “That’s my boy, love ‘em and leave ‘em! Mind you, if the daughter’s half as good as the mother in the sack, I might have to look at the younger model myself!”

Zette felt sick, her eyes filling with tears as she waited for JJ to tell his uncle it wasn’t like that, waited for him to defend her as surely he must. Tell Robert they were in love.

He didn’t, just shrugging again in a careless way that tore at Zette’s heart, cracking it. His next words shattered it beyond repair. “I’ll be gone in a week anyway,” he said in a bored tone, “she’s just a diversion, something to fill my time this week.”

The memory faded and Zette blinked, bringing herself back to the present with a bump. She covered her lapse with a slow downward sweep of her lashes. Her eyes, so expressive, had always been her downfall. There was no way she wanted him to know how much he affected her.

It brought it all back, everything she’d tried so hard to bury for so long. She’d known it wouldn’t work of course. These things had to be faced, dealt with. But at the time she’d been too young, too inexperienced to know how to deal with it. She’d had her heart broken, her mother’s marriage had failed and she’d been left to fend for herself in London after her mother had headed off to the Med to find herself a new husband.

Survival had taken precedence and she’d pushed it all to the back of her mind, fooling herself that time healed all wounds. It didn’t. The mere sound of his voice was enough to rip away all the layers she’d plastered over her wounds like a child pulling the scab away from a nasty graze and revealing the tender flesh beneath.

* * * *

She was pissed, that much JJ could tell. The slight stiffening of her body told him she’d recognised his voice even before she looked up and speared him with those eyes. Not the sultry chocolate brown of the pictures in the various magazines upstairs but cold and hard. It took a lot to make brown eyes go cold like that but he wasn’t surprised. No doubt he was the last person she expected, wanted to see.

“JJ.” She inclined her head a touch in greeting as she stood, moving with an elegant grace he didn’t remember her possessing as a teenager. If anything she’d been awkward, as though unsure in her own skin. She didn’t offer her hand, which irked him a little. Now that she was here, in front of him, he wanted to touch her again. Found he needed to touch her, needed to feel her satin soft skin under his.

Down boy, he told himself, getting his body’s reaction to the sound of her voice in check. She’d always had an unusual voice, distinctive. He could never remember her singing as a child though, but that might have had something to do with her mother. Ariadne couldn’t sing, wasn’t in any way musical other than using the odd dance to cast her lures for her next victim of a husband. If she wasn’t interested in something, no further effort was expended on it. It had always pissed him off about Zette’s mother, that and the callous way she’d treated her quiet daughter.

Obviously though, somewhere along the line someone had seen the promise in it. He wondered who… How had she gotten her big break?

As soon as he thought it, he dismissed the question. He wasn’t interested in the past, or the portions of it between Zette and her gold-digging mother being kicked out of the Jensen house and now. All he was interested in was getting her into his bed. For now anyway. The rest would come later.

“You’re looking well,” he commented lightly then nodded toward the lift, eager to get on with this. “I believe we have an appointment so shall we?”

“From that I assume Mr Anders isn’t going to be joining us?” she asked as she walked into the lift ahead of him. Her perfume, an exotic scent that suited her, wound around his senses leaving him a little lightheaded. JJ shook himself to clear it and hit the button for his top floor office, keeping his mind firmly on the business ahead and not on the promise of the curves beneath the jacket she was wearing.

What on earth was the matter with him? He’d never reacted this strongly to a woman before. Not even Zette herself when she was younger. But who knew she’d turn out like this? A siren to haunt any man’s dreams.

“Oh I doubt he will be. Probably off playing golf in the Seychelles or something,” he commented. “He retired last week.”

Zette made a noncommittal noise in response. She wondered whether that had been all Anders’s idea or if he had been ‘helped’ toward his decision by a bucket load of stress. JJ wasn’t just known for his takeovers in the world of big business but more for his hostile takeovers. Bluntly put, they called him the ‘Jensen Mako,’ the shark of the business world.

Impatience surged through her as she waited for the lift to reach its destination, a journey of mere seconds that seemed to be taking hours. She needed to escape, put some distance between her and JJ.

He’d changed. The man standing next to her bore little resemblance to the boy she’d known. Abruptly she realised he had been a boy then, despite how grown up he’d seemed. She flicked him a glance from under her lashes.

He’d matured well, the lean frame she remembered filled out now. Broad shoulders filled the tailored jacket and skimmed into a narrow waist and powerful hips and thighs. They weren’t the only changes. His face was harder, more determined. The glint of silver at his temple suited him.

She shivered. One thing hadn’t changed. He was still the hottest guy she’d ever seen. Not the prettiest. Working in the music industry she saw plenty of pretty boys but none affected her the way JJ did. She stepped out of the lift as soon as the door opened, escaping into the relative safety of the office beyond.

“Very nice,” she commented, her heels soundless in the plush carpet as she looked around. It was nice in that ‘exec in a box’ interior design way. Personally she hated it.

“Bland,” he replied, striding around her to the desk, unknowingly echoing her thoughts. “However, you didn’t come here to comment on my taste in interior design, did you Zette?”

Her chin rose a little at his blunt statement, at the slight challenge in his voice. For some reason he’d forced this meeting. Why, she didn’t know, but he had. Zette didn’t believe in coincidences and this, Anders Entertainment being bought out just as she was arranging a concert at one of their venues, was just too much of a coincidence to be plausible.

“No,” she replied, wondering how to play this one. She didn’t understand the world JJ moved in, didn’t understand the rules he played by. There was no way she could play him at his own game and win.

“I actually came to see Anders rather than you, so I was a little surprised to see you here. But that was the point wasn’t it?” she threw back, the look on her face cool, polite. “Why’d you buy Anders Entertainment? It’s not your usual style…”

He looked up from the papers he was studying on his desk, piercing hazel eyes catching hers in a direct look. Amusement leeched into them. “My usual style?” he queried, his voice dropping lower until it was almost an auditory caress. “Been checking up on me Zette?”

Anger rose, sharp and immediate. Of all the patronising, condescending… Didn’t help that it was true. She had been keeping tabs on him, reading every little snippet she found in the news. “No! Well, yes, but only to avoid you and your bloody family!” she bit out, managing to reign in her temper. Well, most of it anyway.

He smiled, covering the flash of annoyance in his eyes before she was sure she’d seen it. He straightened up. “Oh well, that’s a pity. I really was hoping this meeting would be slightly more congenial.”

“Why?” One delicate eyebrow arched sharply. Realising her voice had risen to be almost shrill, she sighed. “Look JJ, I don’t want to butt heads with you, I just want to get this concert sorted out. So what will it take for these ‘problems’ with the Swithland Venue to go away?”

“You. In my bed.”

Chapter 2

You. In my bed.

Zette blinked, totally surprised by the softly spoken reply. Then she laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. She couldn’t help it. Her in his bed? He had to be kidding.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” she chuckled. “You want me to sleep with you and you’ll agree to hold the concert? That’s…” she trailed off, her amusement getting the better of her. “Even for you JJ, that’s taking the piss!”

But he wasn’t laughing. Her smile died away as he looked at her steadily, not even a smile gracing his lips. Just that hard look on his face. A look she recognised. It was the one he wore when he’d set his mind on something, and would stop at nothing to get it.

“You’re not joking. You’ve gotta be kidding me! What is this… some sort of blackmail? You are aware this is the twenty-first century aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not joking and I’m quite aware of the date thank you. But this isn’t blackmail—”

She cut him off with a derisive snort. “Not blackmail huh? Sorry buddy, but from where I’m standing it looks an awful lot like blackmail.”

His face was like granite, his eyes unreadable.

“Not at all,” he said lightly, walking around the desk and toward her. A loose limbed stride that reminded her of a big cat, poised and ready to strike.

“Blackmail implies I haven’t given you a choice.” He didn’t stop until he was barely a pace away. So close she could feel his body heat burning through her clothes. She looked up, refusing to back down at the subtle intimidation.

“But I haven’t done that, have I Zette?” He captured her with his gaze, the direct look in his eyes mesmerising her. “All I’ve done is told you what it’ll take to get me to…disappear those problems. You don’t have to take that offer, now do you? You can just walk away…”

She swallowed, her eyes flicking from one of his to the other. Studying the expression on his face and trying to work out what he was playing at. From arriving with so much confidence the situation had rapidly degenerated. She was out of her depth here. Way out of her depth.

“You used to find me attractive,” he murmured, his voice weaving its own spell around her, aided and abetted by the scent of his skin-warmed aftershave. “…used to watch me from behind those books of yours.”

He smiled as she stiffened, instantly cursing as she gave herself away. “Didn’t think I realised? Oh, I realised all right.”

Zette snorted and retreated a step to slide past him. She headed to the window, looking out to admire the view. Not that she gave it more than a passing glance, staring out into the distance. She just needed that physical distance from his overwhelming presence. Before she did something stupid.

“I was a kid. That’s the thing about childhood crushes—you grow out of them.”

“Prove it.” His voice was a silky demand behind her. Like a lake that looked smooth and inviting on the surface but with dangerous undercurrents. From experience Zette didn’t trust his mild tone one little bit.

“What?” she asked over her shoulder, not turning just yet. Not daring to until she’d worked out what the hell was going on. And how she was going to get out of this mess with the result she’d come here to get.

“Prove it,” he repeated, his voice closer as he moved up behind her, his breath fanning over the delicate skin of her neck. “Prove you’re over it…over me. Kiss me.”

A nervous laugh escaped her. “Don’t be ridiculous! I don’t have to do anything of the sort!” The last thing she wanted to do was kiss JJ. She knew all it would take was one touch, and the whole charade was going to tumble down and leave her defenceless. Defenceless and exposed to his scorn as she had been all those years ago.

“You can’t, can you?” he taunted softly from behind her.

He didn’t move or touch her. She wasn’t expecting him to. This game was pure JJ, an exercise in control before he got what he wanted. He’d refined it a little in the years since she’d last seen him but it was still the same basic formula, driven by sheer ruthlessness.

A ruthlessness that made her shiver from the top of her head right down to her toes in the expensive leather pumps she wore.

“I’ll make you a deal. Prove you can kiss me and not feel anything… if you can, I’ll let you have the Swithland site for your concert,” he promised, his voice pure temptation. “Hell, I’ll even pledge my time to help you organise it!”

Zette stood motionless, biting back the retort that sprang to her tongue. Pledges didn’t usually depend on getting something in return. She kept silent, turning the offer over in her mind, examining it from all angles and looking for the trap. There had to be one, this was JJ after all, and there was no way he would cave this early. He was up to something, something she couldn’t see yet.

She nibbled her lower lip. It was tempting, so very tempting. Could she do it? Could she kiss him and not give herself away? If she could, and got him onside with the concert then… much as she hated to admit it, then Midsummer Night Dreams had a much better chance of success.

Finally she nodded, ignoring the small niggle of alarm in the back of her mind. She ignored it, locking it away. She could do this. It was just a kiss, surely she could keep a grip on herself for one kiss? Think of something harmless, kittens or cute puppies or something. A quick lip-lock and she’d have her venue and backup to boot! It was too good a chance to pass up…

Decision made, she turned with a casual shrug and a smile. “Put like that, sure. It’ll be the easiest bet I’ve ever won,” she said carelessly, as though she did this sort of thing every day of the week.

She turned her face up for the kiss, eyes half lidded as she waited for him to make his move. Anticipation shivered through her as she thought of his lips on hers again. No! Think of the puppies…shopping for shoes…expenses forms… But he didn’t move, just looked down at her, his arms crossed over his broad chest and his face implacable.

She opened her eyes, sighed and looked at him curiously. “Okay, what’s wrong? I thought you wanted to kiss me?”

He shook his head, a glimmer of amusement and something else, something hotter and darker, flickered in the depths. “No Zette. I want you to kiss me. Not the other way around,” he rumbled, his low voice uncompromising.

She gritted her teeth, annoyed at him for the power games and herself for responding to them. A thrill of awareness shot through her at his attitude, irritating her even more. Surely she couldn’t be getting turned on by his high-handed manner, by being bossed around? It was demeaning!

But he had the balance just right. He wasn’t looming over her, not physically intimidating her even though at over six foot to her mere five three, he easily could have. No, he just stood there. His light eyes watching her and waiting. Waiting for her to make the choice and come to him.

Just a kiss she reminded herself, moving toward him. Drawn toward him as though he’d cast a spell over her. Which in a way he had, but years ago when she was eighteen, rather than today. Standing on her tip-toes she reached up and just brushed her lips over his, the quickest touch she could manage and have it still class as a kiss. Even that was too much, a quickly-hidden shiver going through her at the brief touch of those warm, firm lips against hers.

She’d done it!

Triumph filled her as she stepped back and looked up at him. She’d managed it. Actually kissed him without making a fool of herself or something else disastrous, like maybe the sky falling in.

He was shaking his head, his hands lifting to curl around her upper arms, burning through the thin layers of her clothing to brand her skin, each strong finger leaving its own tingling mark.

“What? What was wrong with that?” she protested, her voice rising in panic as he pulled her slowly closer. “I kissed you, like you said. What more do you want?”

“Sweetheart, that was not a kiss. This is a kiss.”

His lips descended to cover hers, scattering Zette’s instinctive argument like the wind clearing autumn leaves. His lips moulded to hers, tasting her with a thoroughness that took her breath away. His tongue brushed out, along the seam of her full lips, demanding entrance. He wasn’t cruel, he didn’t need to be to get what he wanted. Zette opened for him on automatic, moaning as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping in to ruthlessly explore the silken recesses of her mouth. By the time he lifted his head, triumph and satisfaction in his eyes, Zette’s breathing was ragged, her fingers creasing his shirt as she held him to her.

“Now that was a kiss.”

* * * *

Three days later JJ’s knowing chuckle was still echoing in Zette’s ears. She’d fled the office and his arms in a panic, of all the damn childish and juvenile things to do. She’d even left her bloody file behind, destroying what little credibility she’d had left after that kiss had trashed her woman-of-the-world act.

She groaned and slumped back in her seat, eyeing the alternative proposals and projections spread over the desk in front of her. The change of site would mean more costs, most of which she could absorb herself and she’d need to get the literature reprinted…. It was no good, she realised. There was still the question of numbers. Simply put, nowhere else was big enough.

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. It had started the morning in an artfully messy pleat on the back of her head, now it was just messy, the style ruined by Zette’s increasing frustration and her habit of running her hand through it when she was.

Unbidden her eyes were drawn to her leather file, the one she’d left behind in her flight. He’d returned it the next morning by courier with a note attached in his bold scrawl. She pulled it toward her to re-read it.

You need Swithland. My offer still stands—your call. You know where to find me, JJ.

She sighed again, realising she had little choice, and reached for the phone. “Marie, put a call through to Anders Entertainment for me please.”

* * * *

She was beautiful. Even edgy and uncomfortable as she was, sitting opposite him in a quiet corner of the exclusive restaurant he’d booked, she still had the quiet presence. An edge that had men’s eyes following her whenever she passed.

A fact he’d discovered firsthand when she’d returned from the ladies. Nearly all the male eyes in the room had given her a once-over, several continuing to watch her after she’d sat down. Those JJ had warned off with a hard look. There was just something about the petite and curvaceous singer that made everything that was male in a guy sit up and take notice; even if his mind rebelled at granting any woman, much less this one, that much power.

He glared at the most persistent, a tall blond guy with the gym-sculpted muscles of a gym bunny and the calculating look of a model. No doubt working out a way to approach Zette. After all, being seen and photographed with the award-winning star couldn’t do anyone’s career any harm.

Unlike JJ’s fists, which were going to be doing serious damage to the guy’s face if he didn’t get the hint soon. Zette was his, end of story, even if she didn’t know it yet, and he’d take on all challengers with pleasure.

His cell rang, cutting off his murderous thoughts with a discreet chirp, the phone vibrating in his jacket pocket. “Excuse me a moment.” He squashed the brief stab of irritation at her relieved look, and retrieved his phone. He checked the number and flipped it open.

“Logan.” He didn’t bother with the usual pleasantries. Not that the guy on the other end, Logan Fyre, his lawyer and friend since college, would have expected it. The two had known each other for far too long.

“I’ve checked and rechecked your grandfather’s will,” Logan said without preamble, cutting right to the chase in his usual manner. A directness the two men shared.

“Okay, and did you come up with anything?” JJ leaned back in his chair slightly, phone against his ear as the fingers of his other hand turned the stem of his glass. His eyes remained locked on Zette, studying her.

“That’s just the thing, no. The old boy made sure the damn thing was watertight. There’s nothing for it mate, you’re going to have to bite the bullet and get married,” the lawyer said, his frustration evident in his tone.

JJ smiled, the smallest quirk of his lips. He’d expected this, knew Charles Jensen Sr. wasn’t going to let little things like his own death stop him from having a say in his grandson’s life. JJ’s life.

“I suspected as much but thanks for checking it out.”

“No worries mate, you know I’ve always got your back…” There was a pause on the line, nearly enough to make JJ think he’d lost the signal, then Logan spoke again. “You do realise you’ve only got like…twelve weeks to find a woman dumb enough to marry you, don’t you?”

JJ laughed, the rich deep sound rolling around the small alcove in the restaurant, making nearby diners and Zette look his way with interest.

“Dumb? Thanks mate, love you too,” he threw back, his amusement broadening his grin, a rarely seen expression. He looked at Zette and a fresh surge of anticipation rolled through him. “Seriously, don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”

His amusement seemed infectious, JJ could practically hear the smile on Logan’s lips. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

JJ smirked, holding Zette’s gaze as he lifted his glass to his lips and took a swallow. God he wanted her, that glorious hair spread over his pillow as she lay naked under him, those curves open to his exploration. She flushed at his look, as though she could read the erotic thoughts playing through his mind, and turned away to answer the waiter at her elbow, ordering coffee.

There was a telling silence on the other end of the phone. JJ knew without asking that Logan was listening to the sounds of the restaurant, the distinctive tones of Zette’s voice, and adding it all up.

“Tell me that isn’t who I think it is?”

“Well, that would depend on who you think it is,” JJ said, careful with his replies, keeping them generic. He didn’t need Zette working out the content of this conversation, that would give too much of his plan away.

Logan laughed. “You bloody sly dog! That’s got to be Zette Matthews. I didn’t realise you two were acquainted. Christ, please tell me you haven’t set your sights on her for this madcap scheme?”

“Maybe.”

“Fucking hell! I wish I’d known that when you asked me to draw up those damn papers! There’s going to be hell to pay when you divorce her,” Logan groaned, using his most ‘put upon’ voice.

JJ just shrugged, most of his attention on his lovely companion as the waiter returned with their coffee. Where had the shy teenager gone? Because the siren who had replaced her bore no resemblance to the socially inept and nervous girl he remembered. Perhaps her mother had stepped in and done something to actually help her daughter instead of pursuing her own selfish pursuits.

“So? It’s not like a little bad publicity ever bothered us before, is it?” He really didn’t care what the papers said about him. To them he was the bad boy of business, the Mako of the corporate world. He didn’t bother to correct their stories. It made his competitors nervous and he liked them that way. They were more liable to make mistakes.

“Crap, crap, crap…” Logan hissed. “No, but you never screwed around with the media’s darling before. The woman can do no wrong in their eyes. Shit…they’re going to crucify us.”

“So get someone to dig up some dirt so we have something to fight back with. That kind of person, there’s bound to be a skeleton in the closet somewhere, start with the family and work from there,” he ordered.

“I don’t suppose I can quit now and save myself the stress can I?” Logan asked glumly. But JJ knew him, knew that already his eyes were sparkling with the light of challenge. He knew his would be, and they were cut from the same cloth.

“You could. But you won’t,” he said, and flipped his phone closed, ending the call. “You ready to leave Zette?”

* * * *

Zette swallowed and nodded, ignoring the butterflies in the pit of her stomach. No, she wasn’t ready but one look at his expression, the tight set of his shoulders and she knew he’d see through any delaying tactic she tried.

“I wanted to thank you.” Her voice was soft as he escorted her from the restaurant, the large hand he placed in the small of her back playing havoc with her senses. Why, of all the men in the world did she have to react to him like this? She didn’t even like him.

No, that was the problem, the little voice in her head sneered, you do like him. You like him too much, despite the fact he’s a rat who’s going to make you sleep with him!

“For what?” He glanced down as he steered her toward the lift. She stiffened for a moment, her eyes flitting toward the front lobby. She’d assumed they’d be getting a cab to his place, which meant she’d have a little more time to compose herself.

“I thought we were… I mean I assumed we were going back to your apartment?” she asked as they stepped into the lift, the doors closing and cocooning them in the small space. Their own private world.

His eyes locked with hers and in an instant the temperature in the lift rose, the tension between them thickening until she had trouble drawing a breath.

“We are. I own the hotel. I have an apartment right here.” His lips quirked, a lopsided half-smile that did things to her insides that should be illegal.

“How else do you think I got a table at such short notice?” He moved closer to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “So, what did you want to thank me for?”

“For helping with the concert,” she gabbled, trying to subtly shift to the side to give herself some breathing room. He followed, the gleam in his eyes saying she wasn’t getting away that easily.

“Since your team started helping, things have moved so quickly it’s amazing!” She shook her head, still astounded. As soon as she’d made that call, the one agreeing to his insane proposition, JJ had been as good as his word. His team had arrived the next day, taking up the slack and freeing Zette up for the myriad of other vital tasks she needed to do. So far they’d managed to achieve more in two days than she had in two weeks. All she’d had to do was say what she needed, they went away and voila, it was done.

The lift door pinged their arrival and slid open. Zette slipped past him into the dubious safety of the corridor. It was a temporary reprieve and she knew it but when he got close, crowded her like that, she couldn’t think. Her brain functions all ceased in favour of anticipation.

She drew a ragged breath as he sauntered out of the lift, an amused look in his eye. Damn it, he knew what effect he had on her, knew she went to pieces when he touched her. Judging by the look on his face he was highly amused by the fact as well.

“No thanks necessary. We had a deal.” His palm splayed over the back of her hips again as they stopped outside a door. She bit her lip, suppressing a shiver at his touch. His breath stirred the loose strands of hair at her nape as he leaned down to swipe his key card, his tone silky. “I help you with the concert, I get you in my bed. Remember?”

Zette flushed, shame rising hot and unsettling, making her stomach churn. Anger followed on its heels. Why had he had to remind her? She was trying to pretend, however unlikely considering how they felt about each other, that they were an ordinary couple out on a date. But instead he’d had to remind her what it was really all about. He was paying her for her ‘services,’ just not in money like an ordinary hooker.

She snorted to herself. Well, if she was expected to play the hooker, then she didn’t have to pretend any feelings for him did she? Other than contempt.

“I’m here, aren’t I? What more do you want?” She pushed through the door as soon as it opened and into the room beyond. It slammed shut behind her, the loud bang making her wince.

Hard hands dropped onto her shoulders, spinning her around. A gasp escaped her as he pushed her back against the door, his body pressing hard against her. The look on his face hard, anger flashing in his eyes.

“What more do I want? You know what I want!”

His lips crashed down to claim hers, plundering and demanding. His larger body, all masculine lines and hard planes, surged against her. Pressing her against the door, her breasts flattened against the broad plains of his chest.

As soon as his lips touched hers her anger shifted, found an alternative outlet. He’d forced this, forced her into this situation but she refused to let him make her a victim. She’d use him as much as he was using her. Use this as a way to exorcise him and the weird hold he seemed to hold over her for good.

She met him kiss for kiss; hot, open mouthed kisses that drove the flames between them higher.

His hand slid into her hair, scattering the pins as he pulled her head back. His lips blazed a trail of fire down her throat. Cheeks burning, she moaned and wriggled to get closer, revelled in the feel of that deliciously male body pressed into hers.

His hand reached down, pulling her thigh over his hip. It splayed over the back of her thigh, smoothing over her bare skin under the skirt. She gasped as he shifted, pressing closer, feeling his arousal through his pants. A hard promise pressed right where she needed it most. Her pussy clenched hard at the thought of him filling her, taking her. Even here against the door, she didn’t care.

Her fingers bit into his shirt-covered shoulders as he pushed her skirt higher. His breath was hot on her neck as he toyed with the lace edges of her underwear. Tracing the edges with his fingertips until Zette nearly melted, groaning with anticipation and frustration. So near and yet so far. She needed him to touch her, to realise the promise he was making with those soft touches.

He chuckled, his lips nuzzling under her ear as she rocked her hips, seeking more. “Oh, you like that, do you? What else do you like? This…”

His fingers swept under the lace, right into her slick heat. She gasped, a small cry on her lips as he stroked over her folds, parting them and finding her clit with unerring accuracy.

“Oh yeah, you like that,” he murmured as his fingers moved against her, stroking again. Pleasure spiralled through her, robbing her of the ability to speak. “Let’s up the ante, shall we?”

He moved, just slightly, and slowly slid a broad, blunt-ended finger into her. Her knees buckled as she felt him slide into her, then pull back. In and out, then circling her own slick heat over her clit until she was almost out of her mind with pleasure.

“Oh God… that feels fantastic.”

She felt, rather than heard his chuckle. “It’s about to get a whole lot better sweetheart,” he promised as he moved, shifting her in his arms. Her eyes widened as she felt the broad head of his cock pressing at her slick entrance.

He didn’t give her time to argue. A rush of wet heat flooded her body, bathing the swollen head as he pushed forwards. She bit her lip, their mingled groans of pleasure sounded in the quiet room, as he pushed into her body, stretching her. He was a big guy. She wasn’t a waif by any stretch of the imagination but she was delicate, so his lack of speed despite the anger swirling between them said a lot about him. She knew he’d never hurt her, not in this way.

“God, you’re tight. And wet. I knew you’d be like this.” He slid into her more with each thrust forwards, working into her body by small degrees. Finally he was buried in her to the hilt, impaling her on his cock against the door.

“Don’t stop,” she ordered as he paused for a long moment, his hips flush against hers. She could feel every pulse and twitch of his body buried inside her. She needed more, far more. His jaw was tight with tension, his eyes closed as he breathed deeply. The expression on his face was almost one of pain.

His eyes snapped open at her words, holding hers with a bright, almost feral look. Their hazel colour searing in clarity. “I don’t intend to, sweetheart.”

He set up a fast rhythm, his hips driving against hers. She urged him on, her fingers working on his shirt buttons. Trying to get them open so she could touch him and run her hands over the hard muscles she could feel under the expensive cotton.

With a growl of frustration she gave up trying to feed the fiddly little things through the holes and just tore it open. Buttons pinged, scattered over the carpet at their feet. She ran her hands over him with a sigh, pushing the shirt back to indulge her needs.

He chuckled against her neck, not slowing the movements of his hips. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you?” She raked her nails across his back for an answer, gasping as his cock pulsed inside her.

“You have no idea,” she murmured, giving him a hot look.

Where the attitude had come from she had no idea. But it worked. Something she could hide behind; a woman of the world. She could have sex and damn well enjoy it if she wanted to, none of this ‘nice girls didn’t’ nonsense.

She closed her eyes, leaning back against the door as he drove harder into her, his movements shorter and more powerful as his need drove him. His thrusts were easier now, as her slick excitement coated his shaft. A moan passed her lips as he thrust again, stopping deep inside her to rotate his hips. The head of his cock pressing inside her in ways that made her eyes roll back in her head.

She ground her hips against his, needing more as the tension in her belly spread out. Her whole body tightened in anticipation, her clit aching as he drove her nearer and nearer to her climax.

“That’s it, let it go babe,” he murmured in a soft voice, kissing along her neck. His lips hit the spot behind her ear and she nearly did, a shudder running down her spine. “Come for me Zette. I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

That did it. His voice, the crude words whispered so softly, his hard cock driving into her soft depths. She shuddered again, her body tightening to breaking point and then beyond. She cried out, his name on her lips as she shattered apart in his arms. Coming harder than she could recall before.

Chapter 3

She was beautiful. There was no other word for it. JJ lay on his side, the early morning sun creeping around the edges of the long drapes at the windows as he studied the woman lying next to him.

Her hair was fanned out on the pillow around her, its rich darkness a marked contrast to the white bedding beneath. A tumbled mass of silken curls he ached to touch, remembering the feel of it against his skin through the night.

He gave into temptation, reaching out to wind a dark strand around his finger. His hazel eyes were unguarded for once. Thoughtful. JJ was not a man who relaxed around others. He’d learned that lesson early on in life.

They’d made love three times in the night. He paused, stopping his train of thoughts in its tracks. Sex. It was just sex. Admittedly it was damn good sex but it was just sex all the same. JJ didn’t do anything else. Talk about ‘making love’ and women got the wrong idea. Hell, even thinking that way was dangerous. Before you knew it they were looking at bridal magazines and talking about seating plans.

But that was the point wasn’t it? He needed to get married to circumvent the clause in his grandfather’s will. And he wanted Zette, no one else would do. So what did it matter if he let her start thinking that way…

He shook himself. No, it still didn’t mean they needed to be bandying the ‘L’ word around too much. It was a marriage of convenience, his convenience. Zette didn’t need to know that though. A brief pang of guilt speared through his chest, his eyes following the soft curve of her cheek and the flutter of her eyelashes as she slept. Quickly he shrugged it off.

It was sex. Nothing more. But whatever it was, he hadn’t been able to get enough. Whether fast and furious like the first time up against the door, or slow and sensual like the last time. He’d woken her in the early hours, hard and aching with need despite the fact he’d already taken her twice before. She’d been sleepy, protesting his advances a little. But he’d had a lifetime of knowing how to get exactly what he wanted and he was nothing if not persuasive.

The result had been Zette moaning in pleasure, her curvy body under his as he pounded into her, rotating his hips so she got the maximum pleasure out of their joining. When she’d come, the rapture on her face and the tight grip of her body around his had tipped him over the edge. More than tipped, that was far too tame for the way she made him feel. Hurtled him over the edge would be more accurate. Hurtling him over the edge and straight into the most intense orgasm he could remember.

He frowned, creases forming on his brow. In fact, last night they’d all been pretty damn good. His body tightened, his cock hard in an instant at the memory of her wrapped around him. All tight, wet heat. The kind of feeling that made a guy, made him, just want to sink into her willing body and stay there forever.

Her eyelashes fluttered again, the tiny movements of her body telling him she was waking up. About time too, he decided. He’d thought he was going to have to coax her awake again.

“Good morning sleeping beauty.” He leaned in to claim a kiss as soon as her eyes opened, his large hand sliding up her side. He pulled her toward him, covering her with his larger body as he started to make lo— seduce her all over again.

* * * *

It had been a long day at the end of a longer week. Zette sighed in relief as she pushed the front door to her apartment closed behind her, shutting the world out. The top floor of what once had been a factory of some sort, it was her sanctuary from the world. It had the light and space she needed when she was working. Great acoustics and a killer view didn’t hurt either.

She trudged through into the living room, dumping her bag on an oversized leather armchair as she hopped from one foot to the other to pull her boots off. A small moan of relief escaped her full lips, her feet virtually crying in relief as they spread out, released from the narrow confines of the boots.

“Bloody Italian boots, do they all have anorexic feet or something?” she muttered as she kicked them out of sight under the sofa. They could stay there and rot for all she cared. Nothing would persuade her to put them on again... Well, until the next morning when she decided they were just too cute not to wear, forgetting all about the torture they’d put her through today. But tonight, tonight she hated the sight of them.

She flopped back into the big cushions that littered the back of the sofa and closed her eyes with a sigh. The boots pinching hadn’t been the worst of her problems today, would that they had been. No stranger to tight costumes thanks to the fads wardrobe went through, she could have coped with that. No, it had all started to go belly up this morning after an argument with JJ and just gone downhill from there.

The argument had been such a juvenile one. JJ wanted her to accompany him to some business shindig tonight and she hadn’t wanted to. After a tough week writing and trying to organise everything for the concert all she’d wanted to do was curl up and be a hermit this weekend. Stay in bed and call out for pizza instead of cooking. He’d got stroppy and demanding, which had only meant she’d dug her heels in more. Which in turn had lead to heated words and Zette storming out, loudly stating he might have bought her body but she’d be damned if he owned her. To which he’d just yelled that until the concert was done he did, and she’d best be there.

Of course, that was the worst thing to say to Zette. In retaliation she hadn’t left the studio until half seven. Half an hour after the function had started.

“Gah!” She grabbed the nearest cushion and buried her head under it. JJ was going to be pissed as hell. She knew that without asking, knew she was playing with fire by refusing to go tonight. But she was just too tired to even contemplate it. Hour after hour of being nice, smiling until her cheeks ached. It was her idea of hell. She shuddered and threw the pillow aside, watching it bounce off the sofa and onto the wooden floor.

No, what she needed now was a nice long bath and an early night. The past three weeks had been a whirlwind. She felt as though her feet had barely touched the floor. Far from wanting a one night stand as she’d thought, JJ had treated her like a real...girlfriend, if you could call her that. Wasn’t she a bit old for that term now? She shrugged to herself. Whatever the correct terminology was, JJ had infiltrated every part of her life: picking her up from the studio, dropping into her offices for impromptu lunches, taking her home each evening for nights of passion that left her wanting more. He was a forceful whirlwind of a man who always seemed to be on the move. It wore her out just looking at him at times.

So it was nice just to get away from that for a night, take stock and catch her breath. The concert was less than a week away and as well as being on the organisation team, Zette also had to perform. So she needed her sleep, she told herself firmly. No matter what Mister High and Mighty thought.

The phone rang behind her, the shrill sound making her jump a little. She wasn’t expecting it. Out of necessity she was ex-directory. A freaky wanna-be stalker had seen to that a couple of years ago. So there weren’t many people that had the number and most of the ones that did also had her cell so they usually rang that first.

She left it to ring, waiting for the answer-phone to cut in. As soon as it did JJ’s voice demanded, “Zette, where the hell are you? I told you I wanted you with me tonight... Oh fuck it, I hate these things. Call me.” Then he cut the call. No goodbye, no nothing.

Head rested back against the plush cushions Zette wrinkled her nose at the ceiling. Let him wait, she was having tonight off from being a paid mistress. Three weeks without a break, surely she could ask for one night off? Even if the work wasn’t that hard. Not hard at all. JJ was a skilled lover, the best she’d had. Not that she’d had that many but even she could tell he was good. Better than good. A master of seduction. She hadn’t really stood a chance that first night she realised now, nor any night since. He’d played her from that first kiss, and he was still doing it.

She levered herself off the sofa with a groan and headed toward the bathroom to run a bath. Time for some heavy duty pampering.

* * * *

Water tumbled into the deep corner bath, splashing against the white porcelain as steam rose to fill the room. She dropped a generous amount of her favourite bath oil in, breathing deeply as the smell of rose and jasmine filled the room. She rolled her shoulders, feeling her tension start to melt away at just the scent.

Reaching up, she wound the heavy fall of her hair up and secured it in a clip so it wouldn’t trail in the water as she bathed. Then, slowly, she stripped off her clothes. The fitted shirt gave way to reveal a slender torso, her breasts encased in a lace and silk bra. She turned slightly, studying herself in the mirror. Her hands skimmed up her sides to cup the full breasts, pushing them together to make her cleavage deeper. What was it about these that fascinated men? JJ was nuts over them, and half the photographers she worked with were all ‘More cleavage darling! Let’s have more of those tits on display.’

She shook her head and dropped her hands, unfastening her jeans to push them down over her hips. The fabric, weighted by the heavy belt, slid down the regrettably short length of her legs. That was one thing Zette had always wished she could change about herself. She was short and on the pretty side of plump for the music industry. Which meant she was a normal size. She knew that, didn’t have a problem with it. But once, just once it would be nice to sweep into a place gracefully. One couldn’t do ‘sweeping gracefully’ at a little over five foot, it just wasn’t possible.

She bent down to retrieve the belt, coiling it in one hand as she dropped the jeans into the laundry basket. She’d already managed to wash three and didn’t want to repeat the mistake. Coiling the soft leather she left it on the vanity and shucked off her underwear.

Her toe had barely dipped in the water when a hammering at the door, accompanied by the shrill sound of the bell being rung repeatedly, jerked her head up. Irritation surged through her. Who the hell could that be?

She hovered for a second, one foot over the tempting water. She could ignore it, just sink into the scented water and close her eyes... The hammering got louder, as though the unseen caller could tell what direction her thoughts were taking. She sighed and stepped back. Grabbing a robe from behind the door, she pulled it on, stalking through the open-plan apartment to the front door.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming. Keep your bloody hair on!” she hissed and forgot everything she knew about personal safety to throw the door open. Sure this was a secure block, but someone determined could always scale the fence or shimmy down a drainpipe or whatever the terminally obsessed did these days.

“Are you bloody mad? Do you always open the door without checking who it is first?”

Zette’s eyes widened at the tall male figure filling the doorway, snapping a demand at her in lieu of a greeting. JJ. She’d have preferred the deranged stalker.

“Oh yes, all the time!” she threw back and shot him a withering look, one he completely ignored as his gaze raked over her, noting the fluffy, overlarge bathrobe and her bare feet.

“Do you have anything on under there? You haven’t, have you? So you answered the door without knowing who it was or even bothering to check and practically naked as well!” His voice was low, tight with anger as he glared down at her, stepping through the door and forcing her to back up. It was that or be trampled.

She cast a glance down at the towelling robe. It covered her from neck to mid-calf. Sexy and revealing it was not. “Not exactly naked,” she argued, “not that it’s any of your damn business what I answer the bloody door in!”

His reply was a look so hot it could have stripped paint, making it bubble and melt off any surface his hazel eyes rested upon. Zette sucked in a breath as he advanced on her, slamming the door behind him with a savage twist of his torso. She shivered as her nipples pebbled under the robe, the sensitive peaks rubbing against the towelling. Towelling which had felt so soft when she’d pulled the robe on but now seemed designed to abrade her sensitive flesh, sending shooting sparks of arousal through her body directly to her clit. Colour blazed in her cheeks. She was sick, twisted in the head if she could get turned on by this sort of behaviour. By his anger, he looked as though he either wanted to throttle her or devour her.

She backed up, JJ stalking her, until the back of her hips bumped the console table to one side of the large hall. In an instant he was on her, hard hand sliding around the back of her neck as his other wrapped around her waist, boosting her up onto the table. She heard the ornaments hit the carpet but it was as though the sound was a long way off, all her attention on the man pushing against her, crowding her with his large, hard body.

“Well, I’m making it my business.” His voice was a low growl of anger and warning as he ripped open the front of her robe. She gasped as cool air washed across her exposed skin; skin that burned as he swept a hot look over her body, lingering on the nipples that were already peaking toward him in invitation before heading down to the neat strip of hair above her mound. Roughly he shoved her legs apart, jamming his hips between them as he leaned closer. “You know what happens when you open the door to me dressed like this?”

Zette shook her head as he leaned closer, pausing just before his lips touched hers. Arousal hummed through her body, all her senses teetering on the knife edge of anticipation.

“You get fucked. Fucked long and hard,” he promised, taking her lips in a hard kiss. At the same time his fingers parted the lips of her sex, brushed her clit once in preparation before he thrust two fingers inside her.

She moaned, almost coming apart there and then. Liquid heat filled every cell of her body, her pussy clenching around his fingers. The kiss was hot and hard, a brand of ownership and warning, allowing her no chance to regain her composure as he fucked her with his fingers. His thumb circled her aching clit at the same time, driving her need higher.

“Oh God.” Her breathing was ragged when he lifted his head, moving on to kiss along her neck. Cruel, almost bite-like kisses that left her in no doubt this was going to go exactly when and where he wanted it to. A shudder went through her body. She wanted it and badly. Even like this, rough and angry. Especially like this. She reached out to stroke him through his pants, needing to feel that familiar hardness. He moved subtly, blocking her move.

“Not yet.” He sucked her nipple into the warm cavern of his mouth and suckled hard. Zette’s head fell back, his hand supporting her, urging her to arch her back for him as he feasted on her generous breasts. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he curled his fingers inside her, searching for the sensitive spot buried behind her pelvis. “I want to taste you, want you to come for me first.”

She moaned for an answer, no longer able to frame a coherent answer. Especially when he slid to his knees, his fingers sliding from her to push her thighs open wider. Baring more of her to his view. A flush covered her cheeks and she shifted as if to cover herself. He growled warningly, hard hands holding her open for him.

“I’m not done with you yet, not by a long shot.” The words were breathed right against her sex, the puff of his breath whispering over her hyper-sensitive clit. Her hips jerked a little in response, a movement lost as he looped her legs over his broad shoulders, his thumbs parting her folds.

The first warm brush of his tongue was fantastic, sparks erupting behind Zette’s eyelids. The second was delicious torture. By the third she was writhing in need, her hands buried in the short spikes of his hair as she urged him on.

His tongue flicked over her clit, dancing over her, each flick coiling the tension low in her belly higher. Soft, breathy moans escaped her as he added nibbles and sucks to the onslaught, a sensual salvo so intense the hard knot of tension building in her shattered abruptly. Pleasure exploded from her core through her body, her hips jerking in response as she groaned.

He didn’t give her time to clear her head, her body still humming with pleasure as he swept her up into his arms. He strode through her apartment as though he owned the place, glancing into doors until he found the bathroom.

She blinked in surprise as he placed her gently on her feet, his hands smoothing the thick robe from her shoulders. She’d been expecting the bedroom. Expecting him to stride in there, drop her on the bed and finish what he’d started. Expected him to fuck her there and then. She flicked a glance up at him through her lashes as, silently, he took her hand and helped her into the water. His features were set, almost feral.

Zette shivered, sinking down into the water as he stripped off his jacket to roll his shirt sleeves up over muscled forearms. He was dressed for the evening. The event she’d not turned up at.

“Don’t look at me that way. Or so help me God, I’ll pull you out of that water and screw you on the damn floor!” His voice was tight with need and something else. Frustration? Anger? She didn’t know what but he was angry with her, seemed angry at wanting her. Was that it? He was annoyed because he found her attractive?

Thoughts and questions swirled silently in Zette’s mind, brushed aside as he kneeled next to the bath. His hand fisted in her hair as he brought his lips down on hers again. His kiss was just as hot as before, but the warm brush of his mouth was somehow gentler as he explored her. Tasting, teasing, sipping from her lips as his free hand dipped into the water to stroke along her skin.

He lifted his head, lips clinging for an instant, as though reluctant to release her. In silence he washed her, the sensual glide of his hands over her skin turning Zette on all over again. Someone, somewhere had taught this man how to turn a simple bath into a weapon of seduction. Senses already shattered by the explosive climax in the hall, Zette didn’t stand a chance, shivering in need by the time he stood and slowly began to strip.

The silk shirt parted to reveal a muscled torso, lightly peppered with hair down the centre and around the nipples. Satin smooth skin Zette’s fingers ached to slide over again. He pulled the shirt free from his pants, dropping it to the floor as his hands moved to his belt buckle.

Hazel eyes caught hers, desire flaring darkly in them. Zette caught her breath as he unfastened the belt, dropping his pants and underwear in one smooth move. His erection sprang free of its confinement, standing proud as he moved toward the bath. Already fully erect, he closed his fist around it, pumping slowly.

“See what you do to me Zette?” His demand was softly spoken, but no less intense when backed up by the hot look in his eyes. “I’ve been bloody hard all day, thinking of you, waiting to get you to myself.”

He stepped into the bath behind her, sinking in the water to pull her back into his arms. Locked in the sensual spell he’d cast she couldn’t say anything, just leaned back against his hard body. His arms slid around her, spanning her waist easily and sliding up slowly. His fingers traced each rib as he got higher and higher. Zette almost moaned in relief when his hands cupped her breasts, anticipation killing her.

“You like that, hmmm?” he murmured in her ear as she arched her back, needing more of his touch. “What else do you like Zette? What do you want me to do to you?” His fingers closed over her nipples, rolling the wet flesh between them and almost sending her into a sensual daze.

“You know what I want,” she managed, wriggling back against him in the water. This was fantastic, she’d never done this in a bath before but with the heat of the water, the slide of skin on skin... It promised to be an experience she wouldn’t forget soon. Somehow he managed that. Managed to take the ordinary and turn it into the fantastic.

“Tell me.”

“I wa—I want...” Her voice trailed off, mouth going dry as his hand slid down her again, dipping below the water and between her legs. She parted her thighs, a willing accomplice in her own seduction.

“Yes Zette?” he prompted, his fingers parting her and finding her aching clit again. She moaned, her head dropping back against his shoulder as his clever touch worked her body again.

“Shall I tell you what I’m going to do to you?” he tempted, kissing along her neck as he drove her to insanity.

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m going to lift you up, into my lap... the hot water lapping around you. Lapping against that delicious cunt.”

She gasped at the crude words, at the visual he was creating even as his hands shifted to her hips.

“Then I’m going to drive my cock into your tight little body, impale you on it and fuck you senseless.”

She didn’t answer, didn’t get the time. He was already lifting her. Her pussy clenched hard as he lifted her clear of the water for a second, the surface slapping against her aroused flesh for a moment. Then the swollen head of his cock brushed her slit, pressing against the entrance to her body.

She hissed softly as he eased his grip on her hips, letting her weight and gravity impale her slowly on his rigid length. The sensation was sublime, her body stretching and accepting his hardness as it filled her completely. She loved that about him. He seemed made for her, they fit together that well.

“You feel fantastic. I can’t think when I’m inside you,” he admitted, his hips setting up a slow, hard rhythm that took her breath away. Reaching out, she grasped the sides of the bath and ground her hips against him, needing more. Already she was close to the edge again.

His hands snaked around her body again, one under the water at the juncture of her thighs and the other cupping her breast and tweaking the nipple. Her delighted gasp was enough encouragement as he thrust deeply.

“I can’t-t... I’m nearly—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, her body already tightening hard around him. A precursor to another hard and fast orgasm. He sped up, thrusts so hard and powerful now if she hadn’t been as turned on as she was, her pussy slick with her own juices, he’d have run the risk of hurting her.

“It’s okay, come for me Zette, I want to hear you scream my name.” His fingers circled her clit, firm pressure that tipped her over the edge and into her release, his name on her lips.

Chapter 4

The concert was over. Zette breathed a sigh of relief as she finally made it to the after-show party, slipping through the door and snagging a glass of champagne from a circulating waiter as the speeches began.

“I’d like to announce that the ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ concert was a huge success! The phone lines are still jammed and early figures show we’ve smashed our original estimates,” Christine Lombard, the promotions genius JJ had sent to help Zette with the concert, announced as she beamed around the room.

“So well done guys, here’s to you!” She raised her glass to toast the room. A room filled, not with the high fliers who had headlined at the concert, but with ‘real’ people. The people who’d made it happen. Zette was an exception, being one of the headliners as well as a behind-the-scenes person. Personally she preferred the second role. Less bullshit.

“To us!”

Zette raised her glass as the room erupted into cheers and general merriment. There was a definite party atmosphere in the air; the promised release of tension after a long, hard slog. Zette breathed a sigh of relief and allowed herself to relax a little. She was wound tighter than a spring, had been for the last week or so.

She took a sip from her glass and looked about. She was still dressed for the stage; all she’d done was lighten up the heavy makeup they had plastered on her. Her entrance had gone unnoticed for the moment, which she was glad about. She always needed a little time after a show to wind down and let the adrenalin drain away.

Usually. Tonight she felt odd, still keyed up. Her eyes wandered over the crowded room, settling on one tall, familiar figure. JJ. She’d know those broad shoulders and that well-built body anywhere. Her tension rose another notch. She hadn’t been sure he’d make it back from the business meetings that had taken him overseas for most of the past week. Some crisis in the Middle East only he could sort out.

Pleasure filled her that he had managed it, but it was bittersweet pleasure. She snagged a table in the corner, noting the stick-insect starlet who was clinging to his arm, and his every word, with delight. Zette didn’t blame her, women’s eyes followed JJ wherever he went and an affair with a guy like him wasn’t going to hurt any up and coming wannabe’s career. Which was obviously what this girl was after and, by the way JJ leaned into her, he wasn’t adverse to the idea. Her teeth worried her lower lip as she tried to ignore the two in the corner over in the other side of the room.

It was over, she was fairly sure of that. Apart from the physical distance with being abroad JJ had been distant on the phone, always too busy and rushing her off whenever she called. So she hadn’t called for the last couple of days. The silence had damn near killed her. As much as she tried to kid herself that he was just busy, that he’d call, she knew he wouldn’t. And he hadn’t. And with the concert over Zette had no reason to share his bed anymore, so there would be a vacancy. Convenient.

“Kidding yourself Zette, time to move on. He obviously has,” she murmured into her glass, downing the rest of the champagne in one go. Misery and frustration crowded into her heart but she squashed them down. Now that she was facing the fact it was over, however it had started, she found she didn’t want it to be finished. She was in love.

Totally, stupidly, head over heels in love with JJ.

She stopped and studied the empty glass absently. When had that happened? When had she been stupid enough to let that happen? She’d thought she was in love with JJ before. Playing with the stem of her empty glass she realised she hadn’t been. She’d just been a teenager with her first crush. At the time it had seemed all-consuming, a passion so desperate that when she’d found herself alone, her heart had broken into so many pieces she was sure it would never be whole again.

But it had been nothing more than a crush. She’d picked herself up and carried on, the experience hardening her, giving her that edge she needed to make it. This time though, she was a woman and it would devastate her...

“Another drink Ma’am?” The waiter’s voice broke into her reverie. Zette looked up, a little startled, into kind brown eyes.

“Pretty lady like you shouldn’t look so sad at a party, if you don’t mind me saying. Whoever he is, he’s a prat.” He placed another drink on the table next to her, flashing a small smile at her start. Surely she wasn’t that transparent?

“I recognise the look. Have a few drinks and forget him. Plenty more fish in the sea,” he said, sympathy in his eyes. He had to have recognised her. Knew who she was. She could almost see the headlines now ‘Heartbroken star mopes at party!’.

Somehow though, she didn’t think that was going to happen. There was something about him that was sincere and after years in the cut-throat world of music, Zette had learned to tell the genuine ones from the fakes.

A soft smile curved her full lips. “Thanks. I’m fine, but thanks.” Her voice was soft, her eyes thoughtful as the waiter moved off unseen. There were plenty more fish in the sea, but she’d always want the shark.

She shivered, trying to shake off her morose mood, as the microphone crackled again. She looked up but it wasn’t Christine this time. JJ stood in the middle of the makeshift stage. He cleared his throat and spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen, some of you may know me, most of you will not. My name is Jarrett Jensen but most people call me JJ. Some of you might be familiar with the name Jensen, I run a little company called Jensen Industries.” He trailed off as a small laugh went around the room. Jensen Inc. was one of the major players in the business world, there weren’t many people that hadn’t heard of it and by extension, JJ.

“First off I’d like to congratulate you on the sheer success this evening has been. Rarely has it been my pleasure to work with a group of people so dedicated to a cause and working together so hard to achieve success. So, kudos to you guys.” He raised his glass to the room in general. “Also my recruitment officers are placed at all the exits so, if you fancy a change of career, I could do with people like you.”

It was a joke but, from the back of the room, Zette had to admit he did it well, his easy charm drawing the crowd in. She could understand why he dominated business meetings and the like; he had a presence and an ability to work a group of people she’d only ever seen before on stage. It wasn’t unlike the way a singer or other entertainer had to work a crowd, sensitive to their moods, their reactions.

“... now, moving on from business, I have an announcement I’d like to make.”

Zette’s ears picked up, a frown settling between her brows. What would JJ want to announce to these people? Her support crews and admin staff didn’t move in the same circles as his business associates or even the social circle he moved in. Racking her brains, she moved a little closer, interested to see what he had to say.

“Since Zette has now managed to join us, that woman is a tower of strength I tell you… I’ve been amazed during the run up to this concert. I’d swear if I hadn’t made her, she wouldn’t have slept in the last couple of weeks.” He smiled, looking through the crowd directly at her. So much for thinking he hadn’t noticed her.

“Anyway, enough of that. I’d like to announce something very important to me. Zette Matthews has made me the happiest man in the world and done me the honour of agreeing to become my wife.”

Seeing her face at his announcement, JJ thought it best to get her out of there as soon as possible, preferably before the eruption he could see coming. His hand under her elbow, he hustled her out of the party amidst the cheering and congratulations. The crowd parted easily, recognising a man who wanted to get his beautiful fiancée to himself for a while. He breathed a small sigh of relief as they made the doors to the terrace and stepped out into the cool night air. It wasn’t a moment too soon, Zette rounding on him with fury.

“Okay, what the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” she hissed, her eyes blazing. She was gorgeous when she was angry, one reason JJ couldn’t resist winding her up at times. She rose to the bait spectacularly, her tail fanning out in an instant when he stepped over the line.

He played innocent. “Announcing our engagement, what else?”

She speared him with a direct look. “What engagement? We’re not engaged. We’ve never been engaged.”

Okay, this was going to be a little harder than he expected, JJ admitted to himself. Usually you mentioned the ‘M’ word and women went a little gaga, easily manipulated. Or at least, that’s what he’d observed in his colleagues who had married. Of course, there was the flipside of the coin as well. Those self-same colleagues, usually hard-bitten, ruthless men, soon found themselves tied to the apron strings and led around by the balls. But that was because they’d made one fatal mistake.

They’d fallen in love with their wives.

JJ didn’t intend to make that mistake. He never intended to make that mistake. No way was he giving a woman that sort of power over him. But he could play the game, whilst it suited him. He dropped his voice a little, moved in closer and crowded her against a wall between two windows, out of sight of the main function room. She didn’t give an inch, looking up at him with that look. The one he knew meant she was pissed off.

“Where did you think this was going Zette?” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, nothing more than an excuse to touch her. Create a connection. His fingertip trailed down her cheekbone. He could feel the tension in her slender body, wanted to divert that anger into something more...productive.

“Where did I think it was going? What do you mean?” Her voice was hard, giving no quarter. “If this had been a real relationship then yeah, maybe I’d think this was going someplace. But you conned me into bed JJ. Blackmailed me.”

JJ had the grace to wince a little.

“That was badly done,” he admitted, leaning one hand on the wall behind her and bracketing her with his larger body. He did feel a little bad about that, but not too much. He’d wanted her too much... he stopped; he had wanted her, not just because of this will thing. He just plain and simply wanted her. Even without that, even without their past history or without the concert to use as leverage, he’d have gone all out to get her into his bed.

“I wanted you too much, I couldn’t wait. I saw a way to get you and I used it.” His smile was sheepish, hiding a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Can you blame me for that? For wanting you? Wanting you naked in my bed, naked under me... Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” His voice was soft and beguiling. He could play this game. Seduction 101; tell them what they wanted to hear.

So why did he feel his life depended on getting this right? His chest tightened as she continued to look at him with that hard look, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t buying it. He had to up the stakes. So be it. He knew just how to do that. Pushing off the wall he smiled at her, going down on one knee and reaching into his pocket for a small velvet box. He snapped it open and held it out to her.

“Zette, regardless of the way our relationship started off, I can’t think of anyone else I would ask this question of. Marry me.”

She blinked, silence stretching between them as she looked from the box to him and back again. Ruthlessly he quashed the unease trying to settle in his chest. She would go for it, she had to go for it. He’d laid his plans too carefully for her not too. And she was a woman wasn’t she? They all loved a bit of romance, and the glitter of a diamond solitaire. Then he pulled his trump card, emotion.

“It belonged to my grandmother, on my mother’s side. She was a sweet woman, I just remember her as a kid. She’d have liked you, wanted you to have it.”

That did it. His hawk-like attention on her face picked up the slight change in her expression, the softening in her eyes as she reached a finger out to touch the antique ring. She didn’t speak, the telltale shine of tears in her dark eyes as she nodded.

Triumph gripped him hard, so hard he felt like punching the air and doing a lap of honour around the terrace. Not something he’d do in a million years, so he had no idea where the impulse had come from. He hadn’t felt that way since he was a teenager and his team had hit a home run.

He didn’t give her a chance to change her mind, taking her hand and pulling the ring from the box. He’d measured her one night as she’d slept and had it altered specially, so he knew it would be a perfect fit even before he slipped it on her finger. And it did, sliding onto her finger as though it had been made for her.

“Thank you,” he breathed, gathering her into his arms with a possessive tenderness that was new. Must be something to do with the moment, he decided. After all it wasn’t every day a guy got engaged, had to get engaged. Regardless of the reasons she was his now, his woman and soon to be his wife. That waiter who’d been making calf eyes at her earlier would be getting the sharp side of his tongue if he tried his luck again!

She spread her fingers out, admiring the rock that sat on her wedding finger.

“It’s beautiful, thank you...” Her voice was clogged with emotion, a low husky sound that set his body on fire just hearing it. “I can’t believe you’d give me this. Not something of your grandmother’s. That’s so personal—”

He didn’t let her carry on, pulling her up against him to kiss her. He needed to kiss her, more than he needed his next breath. Of course, she would be expecting him to, after having proposed and all. His lips descended, claimed hers. She was like honey and silk, the faint aftertaste of champagne lingering on her lips as he teased them apart. She opened easily for him, naturally, moving closer as he deepened the kiss. His hands moved over her back, one sliding down the curve of her spine to settle in the small of her back as the other settled at her nape, holding her in place as he ravaged her mouth.

She was delicious, addictive. Drugging. The kiss got out of control quickly. Her tongue moving against his, flicking and teasing softly, drove him to distraction. A subtle rebellion that set his soul on fire. A low growl of warning rumbled in his big chest as he turned her, backing up to the wall. He left her lips for a moment, only to pull her down into his lap, chuckling as she squeaked in surprise.

Then his hands were on her again, winding into her hair and scattering the pins so he could feel the dark locks spilling through his fingers. He murmured in satisfaction as he bent his head again to kiss her. He loved her hair, it fascinated him, the texture, the smell, everything.

She shifted against him, getting more comfortable in his lap, her curvy body pressing against him and her ass pressing into his groin. He groaned, a shudder going through his entire body as she reached down and rubbed his hardened cock through his pants.

“God, Zette—” He broke away, pressing his lips to her temple as he tried to control his reaction. All he wanted to do was lay her down on the lounger, strip her clothes from her and bury himself in her over and over again. It was a need bordering on desperation, the strength of it scaring the life out of him for a moment. He pressed his eyes closed, shaking the feeling off and getting control of himself. Sex, it was just sex and he hadn’t seen her for a week. Of course he was going to be desperate to get her in the sack. He drew a shuddering breath as she continued to stroke him through the fabric, a teasing touch just firm enough to drive him to distraction.

“Careful, or you’ll end up flat on your back, skirt up round your waist.” His voice was a low growl of warning. His hands ran through her hair, smoothing it back and holding it in a rope at the nape of her neck. Controlling as the movement was, he knew he wasn’t the one in control here. Especially when her next movement was to straddle him, her hips rolling, rocking against his, against the erection that strained to be free. His breath left him in a rush at the sexy look on her face and the knowledge that but for a few layers of fabric, he’d be buried in her to the hilt. She rearranged her skirts, pooling them around her as she sat in his lap.

“Skirts don’t always have to be pushed out of the way you know…” she whispered as she leaned down to kiss him. A hot sexy kiss that told him all he needed to know as his arms came up around her.

* * * *

Zette came to slowly, a comfortable slide out of sleep and a gradual awakening. As consciousness returned she was aware of JJ moving in the room around her. The brisk swish of curtains opening and the bright stab of early morning sun spilling onto the bed had her moaning in protest. She grabbed a pillow and buried her head under it, lifting the edge to glare at JJ.

“Morning sleeping beauty, how are you feeling?” The bed dipped under his weight as he sat down next to her. His large hand reached out to pull the pillow away from her. She grumbled a little, wrinkling her nose at him. She still couldn’t believe what had happened, that within two weeks they’d be married. It was a fairy tale come true, at least for her battered heart.

She’d stopped believing in love a long time ago. Right at the point her mother had abandoned her when Zette got a bit too old, a hint that Ariadne wasn’t as young as she liked to make out. The presence of an adult daughter damaged her chances of snagging another rich husband she could fleece and cheat on, then strip in the divorce settlement. So Zette had gone the way of last year’s fashions, cast off when she’d served her purpose. Add to that the fact the man she’d thought she was in love with hadn’t even bothered to return her calls. Each time she’d tried, she’d gotten the stonewall of various receptionists and PA’s. Finally she’d given up. Fed up with being rejected, abandoned, she’d grown a thick callus over her heart and never let anyone in again. Until now.

“Tired,” she pretended to grouch, but a smile started to curve her lips as she took in the sight of him. He was already getting ready for work, crisp shirt unbuttoned over his chest, giving her a tantalising glimpse of the hardened muscles there. She reached out to trail a hand along the satin smooth skin, flicking his nipple gently, careful not to move from her prone position on the bed. She’d been ill with a stomach bug the last couple of days and the mornings had been the worst, nausea hitting her as soon as she lifted her head. Luckily it seemed to have worn off a little now but she didn’t want to take chances.

“Well, you’d be fine if you’d get some sleep instead of keeping me up all night woman!” He grinned down at her, capturing her hand and holding it away from his chest. “And cut that out, or I won’t be going anywhere!” he warned, his eyes alight with promise.

“Me? Keep you awake? Yeah right, as I recall you were the one that woke me up!” She squeaked in protest at his blatant lie. He was insatiable. That she’d been worried he’d lost interest in her the night of the party seemed preposterous now. In fact since they’d gotten engaged, his sex drive seemed to have increased. She shivered at the memories. Some of the things he’d had her doing...

“Well if you weren’t so sexy I wouldn’t have needed to, ergo, your fault,” he told her firmly, ending the argument with a swift, hard kiss before he pushed away and stood up. “Now I really need to go, and stop looking at me like than unless you want a repeat performance right now.”

She chuckled, closing her eyes, as he left the bedroom in haste. “Coward!” He didn’t answer, just chuckled, and shortly afterwards she heard the front door close as he left.

Zette got up slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment. Immediately as she lifted her head off the pillow, a fresh wave of nausea hit. This was really beginning to annoy her now, not to mention washing her out. The wedding was two weeks away, she couldn’t afford to be ill at the moment. She had dress fittings and things to organise; she just didn’t have the time to be sick.

Sighing she pushed herself to her feet, heading for the bathroom. She’d give it a day or two and if she was still feeling ill, she’d go see the doctor. Nothing was going to ruin her big day.

Chapter 5

The church was packed. Throngs of people, most of whom Zette didn’t recognise as she peeked around the door at the back of the church, filled the pews. When a few turned, eager to get a glimpse of the bride, she ducked back behind the door.

“Ready for this?” a deep voice asked as she turned. Logan Fyre, impossibly tall and handsome, stood waiting to escort her into the church. JJ’s lawyer friend, she’d met him a couple of times since she and JJ had got together.

“Yeah… but a little nervous,” she admitted as she moved to stand next to him, sliding her hand onto his arm. He’d offered to give her away since she had no family of her own. JJ had wanted to track down her mother but she’d told him not to bother. She’d not seen Ariadne for years, not since she was eighteen.

True to form, she’d tried to get in touch when Zette had made it to the big time. There had been a few ‘pity me’ stories in the press. They’d stopped after Zette’s lawyers had informed her in no uncertain terms that if she continued then Zette would spill the whole story of her abandoning her daughter; a story likely to completely blow the ‘ignored mother’ line out of the water. Unsurprisingly she hadn’t heard a thing from Ariadne since.

She was ready though. More than ready. She loved JJ, she’d known that since the night he proposed and now they were getting married. She moved her hand, the inside of her wrist brushing against her silk-covered stomach for a moment. And she had the best wedding present of all for him.

She was pregnant.

Somewhere along the way fate had intervened and the stomach bug she’d thought she’d had hadn’t been an illness at all. No, it had been the best news in the world and confirmed by the voicemail her doctor had left on her phone this morning.

She smiled, holding the precious secret to herself for the moment. As soon as she’d listened to the message, she’d wanted burst out of the suite in the hotel JJ had booked. Well, more taken over really. He’d booked the entire hotel for the reception and for their guests overnight. But she’d held off; it wasn’t the sort of news you could just shout through a door, and it was bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the ceremony.

“You’ll be fine,” Logan slid her a sideways glance, breaking into her thoughts and misinterpreting the look on her face, his blue eyes kind. He was arguably one of the most handsome men she’d ever met, bar JJ of course, looking like he belonged on the screen or something. She’d seen agents go nuts over men that looked half as good as he did. In fact there were several out there in the congregation she just knew were going to be hunting him down at the reception. She almost felt sorry for them, the man was a lawyer, and from what JJ had told her, a ruthless son of a bitch to boot.

“You look fantastic, you’ll knock JJ’s socks off.” His voice was filled with reassurance, a moral support she suddenly found she needed as she fussed with her skirt.

She’d gone semi-traditional. One of her trademark corsets, this time in cream silk and scattered with embroidery and beading, layered over a long skirt. The fabric was arranged into gentle folds that whispered as she walked, the fullness pulled back into a small bustle and train arrangement. It was gorgeous and she felt like a princess, the feeling further enhanced by the delicate tiara that sat atop her head, nestled amongst the deceptively simple up-do her hair had been arranged into. She’d even gone with the veil, to complete the fairy tale bride image.

A veil Logan was even now drawing down over her face before they stepped into the church. He paused for a moment, a serious look on his face as he sought her eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, whatever happens, you remember that, okay?”

* * * *

She was beautiful. Absolutely stunning.

JJ had turned as soon as the music had started, knowing from the sound and the collective sigh from the back of the church that his bride had arrived. Even though this was a marriage of convenience so to speak he couldn’t help himself. He looked over his shoulder, every inch the nervous bridegroom, telling himself that’s what Zette would expect to see. If he could convince himself of that, they’d be getting somewhere.

The sight of her took his breath away as she floated down the aisle on Logan’s arm. The sheer veil did nothing to conceal her beautiful features and for once, it wasn’t her gorgeous body that grabbed his attention, taking it and his libido for a joyride. It was the look on her face, the soft smile that curved her lips as she approached. Her eyes met his through the sheer veil; open and honest, emotion shining there for all the world to see.

Love.

JJ froze, like a rabbit caught in a car’s headlights and feeling like the rat he knew he was. He’d conned her into this but he’d never intended for her to fall in love with him, not really. Yeah, he’d thought about it, played on her emotions, knew it would make that task easier. But now, realisation hit him hard, a sickening feeling in his stomach that almost overshadowed his sense of triumph as she slid her hand in his and they turned to face the vicar.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today...”

* * * *

Zette stood by herself in a corner of the main reception hall, briefly between groups of guests as she sipped from a glass of mineral water. She’d taken the merest sip of champagne during the toasts, a fact she passed off to JJ as being too excited to need alcohol as well.

Instinctively her eyes swept the hall, looking for the tall form of her husband. Husband, that sounded strange. Strange but good. Her eyes softened as she found him, talking to a bunch of men over in the corner. They all had that same hard-bitten look about them, a sense of ease in the formal suits they wore that said they were used to wearing them. Colleagues, she decided. Everything about them screamed ‘business.’

In fact, they probably had about ninety percent of the world’s business brains in here, she decided, looking around and ‘suit’ spotting. But unerringly her eyes returned to JJ. His formal suit fit his tall, broad-shouldered form to perfection. Understated but no one was going to mistake him as anything other than the groom. He’d gone minimalist, but the lines of his suit screamed ‘expensive tailoring,’ the cream waistcoat under the charcoal jacket emphasising the broad chest that narrowed into a slim waist and powerful hips. Strong thighs pulled the fabric of his dark pants as he turned to look at her, sensing her eyes on him, not too tight but just right.

He smiled, a slow languorous smile that made her heart stutter. She smiled back, still sure that this was a dream. That she’d wake up the morning after the concert to find it was over and she’d dreamed everything. Their engagement, her pregnancy. Everything. She’d always wanted to fit somewhere, wanted to be part of a family so it was her ultimate fantasy; a family of her own.

Sure they’d not started out well. Past history and the way he’d conned her into bed would probably have most people clucking their tongues at her and warning her to guard her heart. Ever the cynic, Zette would have been one of them, should still be one of them. She didn’t believe in fairy tales, did she?

Her ringed hand tightened on her glass, the diamond solitaire glinting in the light and nestled next to it, the heavy wedding band JJ had pushed onto her finger mere hours earlier. His voice had been low; sincere as he spoke his vows, his hazel eyes unwavering as he looked at her throughout the ceremony.

She sighed, a soft sound of contentment, happiness. She did believe in fairy tales. Somewhere deep inside was still that little girl who wanted her prince charming and her happily ever after.

And now she had it.

* * * *

“Congratulations to you and your lovely wife. Never thought I’d see the day, the Jensen shark on the hook and hauled in!”

JJ chuckled, shaking the offered hand. A slender, lean man in an immaculate suit, John Ryland was a long time competitor and, more surprisingly, a friend. It was a friendship built up over many years of arguing and trying to get one up on each other. A friendly rivalry JJ relished, knowing that Ryland was as manipulative as he was. John’s blue eyes twinkled as the older man looked from JJ to Logan and back again.

“One down, one to go. Will we be seeing you heading down the aisle next Logan?” he quipped, his voice filled with amusement. The two men were well known for their avoidance of the matrimonial state, and Logan was infamous for not dating the same woman for more than six months.

Logan held his hands up as though to ward off the thought. “Oh no, not me. It’s just him who’s taken leave of his senses.” He laughed good-naturedly and jerked his head toward JJ.

“Well, thank the lord for that!” John replied and smiled down as a young woman appeared at his side, sliding her arm through his and flashing a shy smile at JJ and Logan. “Anyway, before I get dragged off, congratulations again JJ. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. Perhaps she’ll soften you up a little, eh?” he teased as he was dragged off by the girl, who JJ vaguely recognised as his daughter.

“Don’t count on it Ryland! I still intend to nail your ass to the wall on the Sanders deal, just you wait and see!” JJ called after him, amusement in his deep voice.

Even though he’d thought it himself about colleagues who got married, why did everyone assume that now he was married, he’d suddenly lose his instincts, his business acumen? If anything he felt right on top of his game, as though he could take on the world and win!

“Someone’s watching you,” Logan said, drawing his attention with an almost imperceptible tilt of his head over JJ’s shoulder.

JJ turned, catching sight of Zette over on the other side of the room. Standing by one of the large windows, the area around her was clear of guests for the moment, which left her framed against the glass and the darkness of the night outside. Once again her sheer beauty caught his eye. She looked every inch the fairy tale bride.

Their eyes caught for a moment, locked. The air between them virtually sizzled and caught fire before one of the guests approached her, no doubt to offer yet more of the endless congratulations that seemed to be going around. She turned, an easy smile on her lips, breaking the connection.

JJ knew that the image of her framed in the window, the hauntingly beautiful blushing bride, would remain in his memory forever. Stamped there until his dying day. Because he knew she wasn’t just playing a part like he was. She really was a blushing bride, hyped up on the excitement and emotion of the day. After all, hadn’t she whispered earlier to him she was too excited to drink any more of the champagne they’d served with the wedding breakfast? Even now he could see she only had a mineral water in her hand. Whereas he was knocking them back, trying to ignore the growing sense of unease in his chest.

“You’re going to hurt her, you know.” Logan’s voice was bland, as emotionless as JJ had ever heard it. But he still heard the censure behind the words. The subtle disapproval Logan was so good at when he thought JJ was being a prize idiot.

He sighed.

“Yeah, I know,” he admitted, keeping his face as neutral as possible. Luckily no one seemed in imminent danger of disturbing them, the two men standing at the side of the room, just shy of the door. A much needed break for the groom before he started circulating again.

“You’re still set on this idiotic scheme then?” Logan asked carefully, nursing his glass in one hand as he looked out onto the dance floor. It had been filled since JJ and Zette had taken their first dance and it didn’t look like clearing any time soon.

JJ shrugged. Even though Logan didn’t say it, he knew what he meant. It wasn’t really proper to mention the divorce when the ink was drying on the marriage certificate and the reception still underway. Not that Logan would care about what was proper, blunt was his way.

“It’s done now, I’m committed.”

Logan snorted, lifting his glass and draining it in one long swallow. “You know what I meant. You’re committed to this, not the other. Sure you want to follow through with it? I can destroy those papers in the morning for you,” he offered, placing his empty glass on the table next to them, his eyes intent as he looked at JJ.

JJ didn’t answer, just looking out over the crowd, a drink in one hand and his other hand shoved deep into a pocket. Did he want to divorce Zette after a year? A year was all he needed to fulfil the clause in his grandfather’s will and he had sole control of Jensen Inc.

But what about after that? He’d seen them parting after a year and going their separate ways. Probably before that if he was honest. Whilst he had a better track record than Logan, his affairs rarely lasted a year. He lost interest, moved on. If they got clingy, he just stayed out of the country. As an avoidance tactic, it worked wonders. If he needed to, he could always head overseas for the latter part of the year to get out of the way.

But, and here was the rub, did he want to? There was just something about Zette that had him fascinated and, if she was in love with him… He squashed the guilt that had been plaguing him most of the evening again. She’d left him, all those years ago. He’d thought he’d loved her, he’d worried about her, and she’d left him. She deserved everything she got.

He finished his drink and shook his head. “No, keep them. I’ll need them,” he said firmly.

Logan just shrugged, “Pity, she’s a pretty little thing. I might have a go when you’re done.”

JJ didn’t move. Couldn’t move for the rage that surged through him. Hot and immediate it set his heart pounding, galvanizing his whole body. The thought of someone else touching her, even a man he considered as close as a brother, made his blood boil. She was his, no one else’s.

“Try it and you’re a dead man,” he promised on a low growl, his teeth gritted to restrain the urge to swing at his friend.

Logan chuckled, “Green-eyed monster raising its ugly head there? You might want to think on those papers again my friend. I’m off to circulate, that cute blonde’s been giving me the eye all evening. Going to see if I can’t get a little action of my own tonight. Later.”

* * * *

“Thank you, I’m sure we’ll be very happy together. If you’ll excuse me, I need to catch someone before they leave…” Diplomatically, Zette extracted herself from the group of guests who had somehow managed to corner her between two tables, cooing over how nice the ceremony was. Before long the subject had turned to how long she and JJ had known each other and how short notice the wedding was. Which then lead to meaningful glances at her stomach.

At that point Zette had decided to make a swift exit, smiling graciously and making a vague comment about them deciding not to wait anymore. She didn’t want to let the cat out of the bag before she had a chance to tell JJ.

Telling a man you were carrying his baby, well that moment should be special. A private moment between lovers. Just for the two of them as they celebrated the wonderful news. It wasn’t something she wanted to share.

She beat a hasty retreat across the room, skirting the dance floor as she headed for the door to the ladies. It was hot in the main hall with so many people packed in and in her dress, which had seemed so light early in the day was now starting to feel a little heavy and cumbersome.

She sighed as she reached the sanctuary of the ladies ‘powder room.’ Like most establishments as big and luxurious as this, it was less a room and more a whole suite of them. The toilets were tucked away out of sight at the back of a large sitting room, as though their presence wasn’t the primary reason for the room in the first place. Large couches were scattered around the room, as well as chairs next to the vanity counters so the guests wouldn’t have to, horror of horrors, actually stand to sort out their makeup.

Zette shook her head. When she’d started off in the music game, she’d often had to change in the cramped confines of a toilet cubicle, very often the men’s, performing contortions to hold the door shut as she struggled into costume.

These cubicles though, she was pleased to note, were a sight larger than those years ago. Which was a good thing as she wasn’t sure she’d fit in anything that small, not with this skirt on. As it was, she had to sweep it all to one side and hold it in place as she shut the door. Throwing the latch, she put the lid on the toilet down, sinking to sit for a moment, fanning herself with her hand. It was just so hot, possibly something to do with her pregnancy. She’d never been this sensitive to the heat before.

“Of course, I only give it a year…”

The door into the powder room opened. There was a brief explosion of sound from the reception before it closed and a voice, obviously mid-conversation, layered over it.

“Lisa!! You can’t say that! That’s awful, and at their wedding too!”

Out of sight in the cubicle next door, Zette could practically hear the speaker shrug as she closed the door, sliding the bolt home. “Why not? It’s true. I saw the file in Logan Fyre’s office. They’ve already drawn up the divorce papers.”

Zette went cold, barely hearing the other woman’s gasp. “You’re kidding! That’s awful! Oh my God, does she know?”

There was a harsh laugh, the reply scathing. “I would think so, this is probably all an elaborate publicity stunt. They’ll sell the story to a magazine for millions, proclaim themselves madly in love and in six months or so they’ll have an equally messy divorce. Celebs like her do it all the time.”

Zette didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, sat numbly in the locked cubicle. Ice formed in her chest, spreading out through her limbs and making movement impossible. Even if someone had yelled ‘fire’ at this point she’d have just sat there staring at the door in front of her.

Her eyes followed the grain of the wood absently, noticed the slight splodge of paint where it had run when it was being painted. Her eyes followed it; a tiny imperfection in the otherwise perfect paint job which suddenly seemed more important to study than anything else in the world.

JJ was divorcing her. Not even married a day and he’d already planned to divorce her. She drew a shuddering breath, feeling the hot prickle of tears at the back of her eyes. Ruthlessly, she squashed them. She would not break down, not yet and not here.

She knew better than to play the denial game. It had been too good to be true, everything had told her that but, like an idiot, she’d wanted to believe it. She’d wanted to believe she could have her Prince Charming. Her voice was bitter as she muttered, “Happy ever afters are for fairy tales, always have been, always will be.”

Chapter 6

The blonde had abandoned him after one dance, returning to the side of a boyfriend Logan hadn’t seen before. Not that a boyfriend bothered him overly much, especially not this one. Small and skinny he had the ‘office geek’ look about him. If he’d wanted to, Logan could easily have taken the blonde off him. She’d been giving him the eye all evening, covert little glances of interest. Obviously casting about for something better than she had.

He wasn’t vain about his appearance but he knew he looked good. Knew he was attractive to the female sex and even some men. He suppressed a shudder. That was all fine and dandy if you were that way inclined but not for him thanks. He liked women, really liked women, in all their infinite sizes and shapes.

Although he could, he couldn’t be bothered to winkle the blonde from her boyfriend. What would it get him other than another night’s meaningless sex? Perhaps great sex but still. He was fed up with one night stands and…well, it just being sex. It was most guys’ dream but Logan was getting tired of it, finding he needed something more. Something more fulfilling.

He took another deep swallow from the heavy whiskey tumbler, leaning against the wall. He’d come out to the front of the hotel for some peace and quiet and to think on the slippery slope JJ was on.

“Fucking idiot,” he murmured into the still air, leaning his head back against the rough stone as he thought. The plan was doomed to failure of course. Zette would find out, women always did in the end, and then JJ would be up shit creek not only without a paddle but without a damn boat either. Even if JJ didn’t realise it, Logan recognised the signs of a man in love. He was still in denial but he had it bad. And he was heading into trouble with this plan.

Logan sighed, and studied the stars. It was a clear summer night, so they were out in force. Actually he’d not been joking when he’d said he’d have a crack at Zette if and when JJ was done with her. She was gorgeous and, from what he’d already seen of her, she had a wonderful personality. He chuckled to himself. Who was he kidding? The one woman he found interesting only had eyes for his best mate. Bastard.

He watched idly as a taxi pulled up to the front of the hotel, one of a steady stream of vehicles that had been coming and going since he’d been standing outside. The day guests were long gone now but the evening guests were still arriving, even though the reception was in full swing inside. The main door opened, a brief splash of sound from inside intruding on the solitude of the night until it swung shut.

Logan lifted his head as a feminine step crunched over the gravel toward the waiting taxi. He was a student of human nature, a ‘people watcher’ so to speak. There was a lot a person’s body language could tell you and he believed in using any weapon he could get his hands on. Even the sound of a person walking could tell you a lot about them. Currently this set of footsteps was telling him the owner was fairly small, female and pissed off. His eyes widened a little in surprise as they settled on the owner of the footsteps.

Zette.

Worse, it was a Zette devoid of the wedding dress and other bridal accessories and getting into a taxi, looking very much like she was leaving her own wedding reception. Minus the groom. He watched silently as she got into the taxi, her pale face half covered by her hair as the door closed and the vehicle moved away into the darkness.

But the glimpse he got of her expression, the tortured look in her eyes, rocked him. She really loved that insensitive bastard, it was written all over her face. He watched as the tail lights of the taxi disappeared off down the half mile drive and sighed. He pushed off the wall. It was time to go and break the news.

* * * *

JJ had already noticed Zette’s absence by the time Logan appeared at his side, trying to spot her through the crowds in the hall.

“Oh hey man. Have you seen my wife anywhere?” he asked, feeling an absurd swell of pride as he said that. Zette, his wife.

“Strange as it might seem when she’s wearing a dress that size but I seem to have lost her. No doubt she’s been cornered by a couple of these piranhas someplace and needs rescuing,” he joked, indicating a couple of the ‘showbiz’ guests they’d been forced to add to the guest list.

The wedding planner had warned them it was that or risk having them try and sneak in anyway. So they’d been invited and frisked for both recording devices and cameras, including camera phones, before they’d been allowed past the door. So far they were pretty much behaving themselves, although a few of the agents were eyeing both JJ and Logan with a speculative eye as they stood together. JJ gave them a hard stare, one that plainly said ‘don’t even think about it’.

When Logan didn’t reply he turned, a frown forming between his brows. One look at the serious expression on the lawyer’s face brought him up sharply, a cold knot forming in the middle of his broad chest. Deep down, in that forgotten place where his heart was.

“What’s happened?”

“You might want to take this somewhere else,” Logan warned in a low voice, nodding toward the door beside the bar. Beyond it was the corridor that led to the hotel accommodation.

JJ didn’t reply, just headed that way, his determined stride and expression making the guests part in front of him. In his mind he ran over all the deals they had in the works at the moment, wondering which one of them had gone belly up this time. Christ, if it was the Sharm el-Sheikh deal then he’d need to leave tonight to try and rescue it. And Zette wasn’t going to like that, not at all. He ran his hand through his hair as they stepped into the corridor, Logan closing the door behind him carefully and shutting out the noise.

“It’s the Sharm deal isn’t it? What’s that pillock Reynolds gone and done now?” he demanded. “I knew we should have sent someone else! He just doesn’t have the balls for this type of work. How soon do we leave?”

“It’s not the Sharm deal,” Logan’s voice was low, his eyes unreadable.

“Then what is it?” JJ’s voice echoed with confusion. What else could be so important that Logan would drag him out of his own wedding reception?

“It’s Zette. She’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean gone?”

“Gone as in done a bunk, done a moonlight flit, buggared off…Left. I just saw her getting in a taxi and, believe me, she didn’t look like she was nipping out for more wine.” Logan said, his voice colder than JJ had ever heard it.

He focused on the other man, his heart lurching in his chest. A leap of panic from an organ he thought long dead as fevered chills ran over his skin.

“Left?” he croaked, as though he couldn’t comprehend the word itself. But he could, only too clearly. The reason he couldn’t spot Zette in the hall became clear. She hadn’t been there.

“No, no. You’re wrong. She wouldn’t have left…” He trailed off, already turning. He shouldered the door to the stairs open, not wanting to waste time waiting for the lift, and thundered the couple of flights up the stairs heading for the bridal suite. His heart pounded as he all but sprinted along the corridor, the keycard only just in the door before he crashed through it.

Her wedding dress was in a heap on the floor.

“No…” Pain lanced through him. Sharp, immediate. Debilitating.

Barely aware of what he was doing, he entered the room, picking up the discarded gown and smoothing the crumpled fabric before draping it across the chair. He’d known their marriage wasn’t forever, it wasn’t planned to be forever. So why did it hurt so much?

He stood in the middle of the room, running his hand through his hair in distraction. He looked around, for once not sure what to do next and floundering. JJ always had a plan, he was the decisive one, the one who knew what he wanted and went all out to get it. But his plans had never included what to do if your wife of less than twelve hours walked out on you.

Perhaps she wasn’t gone? Perhaps Logan was wrong and she was just in the shower, changing into something lighter than the full dress… even as the thought occurred to him, he dismissed it. Since when had he started doubting Logan? There was no way he’d lie to him, not over something like this.

His eyes swept over the room, latching onto the envelope on the dressing table. He approached it with the caution of a soldier checking enemy bodies for booby-traps. A single white envelope, with the hotel’s logo on it. There was no name on it but he knew it was for him.

He reached out, picked it up. It was heavier than just a letter, something clicking and shifting inside it. He knew what it contained before he opened it and looked inside. Sure enough, two rings nestled between the folds of the heavy white paper, the diamond of Zette’s engagement ring catching the light.

JJ sat down heavily on the side of the bed. There was a letter as well, a single sheet of paper folded neatly and slid into the envelope next to the rings. He smiled despite himself, Zette was always neat and tidy. Drawing out the letter, he opened it.

I know about the divorce papers. File them.

“Crap.” JJ’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping in the corner. He’d hoped this was retrievable but if she knew about the papers then obviously not. File them… and she obviously didn’t care.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell. He flicked it open with a practised gesture, hitting speed dial. He wasn’t letting her get away as easy as this damn it! She couldn’t just walk out on him without him having the last word. Even if that last word was just to ask her where to send the damn papers.

The distinctive ringtone of her phone went off behind him, on the other side of the room. JJ frowned, leaving his ringing as he tracked hers down by the sound, ending up rooting under the bed for it. She must have kicked it there by accident and forgotten it.

“Great, now what?” He looked at the sleek silver device in his hand. The flashing icon in the corner caught his eye. She had saved messages. Unable to help himself, he pressed the call button and lifted it to his ear.

“Ms. Matthews, this is Doctor Fisher. We’ve just received your test results back and I’m delighted to inform you that you are expecting…”

* * * *

“All I wanted…was a fairy tale ending…”

Zette’s powerful voice was restrained as she sang, little more than whispering into the microphone in front of her. But it was enough. The raw emotion in her voice pulsed around the stadium, kept the crowd spell-bound, fascinated by the tiny figure on stage as though she was something rare and unique. An endangered species to be observed before it died out forever.

JJ stood in one of the VIP boxes, watching from the shadows. His expression was fixed, eyes focused on Zette. She was unique. There wasn’t another singer in the world that could pull in such crowds, evoke such emotion in a crowd, in a listener. Make them feel the pain and sorrow that flowed through her voice.

Especially her last album, Sleepless Nights and Broken Hearts. A departure from her usual full-bodied, full-on rock style, it was filled with soulful ballads that brought tears to the eyes. Or at least they had for JJ, hearing the anguish in her voice as she huskily whisper-sang the words. Critics raved over her ability to put so much emotion into her voice but he knew better.

Zette sang from the heart, she always had. The pain and misery were real. And he’d caused them.

“But my Prince Charming…you weren’t who I thought you were…”

He winced, the world contracting, narrowing down to just the two of them. She could have been singing just to him. She was singing just to him. He’d known that the moment he’d heard her singing this track, catching it by accident on the radio in his car.

He’d avoided listening to her new album. Pride. Stupid pride. She’d told him to file the divorce papers, wanted him out of her life even though she was pregnant. It had killed him but he’d done it, telling himself a woman who could walk out on her wedding was capable of just about everything. The baby probably wasn’t his anyway, he told himself, using the sort of crap men used to justify their actions. So when he’d turned on the radio and heard her, he’d already been moving to switch it off, but the note in her voice had stopped him. Then he’d listened to the words and he’d been lost.

“…walking alone, always walking alone…”

He’d sat in his car for the longest while, hours, without moving. Looking through the windscreen as the world moved on around him. He’d missed his entire afternoon’s meeting schedule, his PA going mad trying to get hold of him. She’d even run the hospitals thinking he’d had an accident.

Which he had, but not the sort she was thinking of. No, it was his emotional state that resembled a train crash. Shocked, rocked to the core, realisation had hit him with the force and subtlety of a sledgehammer. He’d gotten it wrong. So wrong it wasn’t even funny unless you were thinking farce.

He’d bought her album that night and sat up into the early hours listening to it. Each and every track resonated with him, some bringing tears to his eyes as he realised what a fool he’d been. But this song, Shattered Dreams, affected him on a level the others didn’t.

It was about a little girl who’d believed in fairy tales, only to have them shattered one by one. The people she was supposed to trust and rely on rejecting her and abandoning her. At first he’d thought it was just about him, just about a girl losing her lover and getting her heart broken. But after about the hundredth time listening to it, he realised there was more to it than that. She wasn’t talking about one person, not just about him. The realisation had prompted him to do some digging. Digging into the past and what had happened all those years ago.

He’d just returned from tracking her mother down. His jaw tightened at the thought. What he’d done to Zette was bad enough but what Ariadne had done had been far, far worse. What could possess a mother to abandon her child, albeit a nearly adult one, alone to fend for herself?

No wonder Zette was so strong. She’d had to be to survive. His eyes wandered over her again. He couldn’t see her properly on stage at this distance but the cameras remained fixed on her, the two huge screens at the back of the stage displaying her from different angles. Whatever the angle, one thing remained the same. The protective hand she had curled around her swollen belly as she crooned into the microphone.

“And I’ll walk alone, my fairy tales just a shattered dream…”

Pride welled, deep and strong. His child. Without thinking about it, he knew Zette would never abandon her baby as she’d been abandoned. She’d be like a lioness defending her young and he seriously pitied anyone that tried to hurt a child of Zette’s.

That included him. He might need some of that pity before the night was out. When she’d finished singing, he was going to try and put things right. Apologise on his knees… grovel and beg forgiveness; whatever he had to do to put her shattered dreams back together.

Forever.

* * * *

It had been a long concert, a hard one for Zette. But now it was over. She sighed in relief as she took a last bow, the roar of the crowd behind the dazzling lights lifting her spirits a little. It was hard not to take comfort in the fact that at least her fans loved her, even if it was only for her music. Right at the moment she’d take just about anything to soothe her battered soul.

Finally she managed to escape off the stage, ducking past the stage crew and heading for her dressing room. She smiled as people called out to her but, now that she was offstage, she allowed her sheer exhaustion to show and they didn’t do more than shout congratulations on her performance.

She closed the door of her dressing room and leaned against it. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, tension draining away from her body. Usually performing galvanised her, left her hyped up. But pregnancy had taken it out of her. Morning sickness and exhaustion, a cocktail guaranteed to make anyone feel like crap. Not that she hadn’t already felt that way.

On automatic, her hand stroked over her bump. Six months gone now she was visibly pregnant. So far she’d refused to comment on her pregnancy or her ‘failed before it started’ marriage, despite repeated pleas from the media. Her PR people gave them the same answer every time. Zette’s personal life was not up for discussion. Ever. And any reporter, paper, magazine…hell even small town community newsletters, which printed anything about her or her baby that wasn’t sanctioned, would be on the receiving end of some very nasty attention from her lawyers.

Fortunately JJ seemed to have the same approach to them. She hadn’t seen anything from him in the papers as yet. She knew her office shielded all her mail and checked the news to make sure. Hell, she’d even tried to retain Logan Fyre in case she needed some heavy duty legal muscle. He was JJ’s friend, but she could still appreciate that he was the best in the business.

Unfortunately he’d turned her down, but he’d been nice about it. Assuring her that his friend was an ‘asshole who deserved everything he got’ but no, he wouldn’t be the one that was dishing it out in court. She was however relieved to hear that Logan would also not accept a case against her, unless she decided to all out screw with JJ. In other words, let sleeping dogs lie and so would he. In the circumstances, she figured it was the best she was going to get.

She opened her eyes and looked at the couch longingly, gathering the energy to waddle over there and collapse on it.

“You, sweetie, make mommy tired,” she said, her voice soft as she stroked a loving hand over her bump. She’d asked not to be told what sex the baby was on her scans, but she had a feeling it was a little girl. She didn’t know why, but it just seemed feminine. A small foot kicked out, hitting her hand with unerring accuracy. Zette laughed, making it across the room to lower herself onto the couch.

“Okay, okay, that’s your space, mommy not touch.”

She’d barely sat, her limbs relaxing into the comfortable cushions of the couch, when there was a knock at the door. Zette groaned, her head flopping back into the cushions for a moment. Why did people always do that when she’d just sat down? Didn’t they know it wasn’t exactly easy to get up and down when you were the size of a small house? The knock came again, the sharp rap of knuckles against the wood, as though the owner didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Okay, okay, hold your horses, I’m coming!” she called as she hauled herself out of the luxurious clutches of the couch to waddle over. She opened the door, her mouth already open to give whoever it was a lecture on impatience but no sound emerged as she recognised the tall form standing in the doorway.

JJ.

Her heart lurched, clenching painfully as she looked at him. She hadn’t seen him since the wedding reception and even now that image of him reappeared in her mind from the small box she’d locked it in, tall and handsome in his wedding suit. As soon as that one got in, the rest, a hundred images of him in different states of undress… or smiling as he woke, assaulted her with painful clarity. Memory was a bitch when you wanted to forget.

“Hello Zette, how are you?”

She just looked at him. How was she? How did he think she was? She’d just been on stage, pouring her heart out about heartbreak and faithless lovers and the man who’d planned their divorce before he’d even married her was asking her how she was?

“When are you filing the papers?” she asked bluntly, in no mood to mess about with the kind of games JJ played. She was too tired, too heart-sore for that.

“If you’ve brought them now, I’ll sign them and you can postdate them. I don’t care what you want to tell the courts. Mind you, I’m sure you’ve already got that all worked out. So, where are they?” She arched an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her full breasts. Pregnancy had only made her already generous figure curvier.

“I’ve not got the papers, I’m not filing them.” He stood in the door and, if Zette didn’t know better, he looked hesitant, as though he was unsure of his welcome. It was the first time she’d ever seen him show anything approaching a weakness. Her eyes narrowed, what game was he playing now?

“You’re not? Why?”

He cleared his throat, looking down at the floor for a moment, as though he was having trouble with what to say. He looked up, his hazel eyes unguarded and open. Zette caught her breath at the sorrow there.

“Because I don’t want to,” he said simply. “Can I come in?”

The last was as near to a plea as Zette had heard him make. Warily she nodded, stepping back from the door to allow his tall figure to pass her as she shut the door.

Once she had though, she wished she hadn’t. The dressing room wasn’t the smallest she’d ever had. Hell, she’d had apartments smaller than this. But somehow he seemed to take up all the room, dominate the space as though he owned it. It was that innate self confidence of his, she decided, wishing she could steal a little for herself and appear something other than over-heated, exhausted and heavily pregnant. Frazzled, that would be one way to describe it.

“Okay, you’re in. Now what do you want?” she demanded, not caring that she was harsh. If he thought he could just turn up and expect her to welcome him with open arms, he had another thing coming.

He winced at her tone, raking a hand through his hair. A nervous gesture she realised, noting the dark shadows under his eyes and the lines of strain around his mouth. He looked like a man who had been kicked in the guts after losing a week’s sleep.

He laughed, a short sound that had nothing to do with amusement.

“I don’t know where to start. So I’ll just come out with it.” He turned to her, his expression contrite. “Zette, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I guess…” he trailed off, shaking his head a little. “I don’t have excuses for what I did. There aren’t any excuses for what I did, the way I treated you.”

Zette just stood there, not quite believing the words, what she was hearing. Hope began to blossom in her chest, her heart aching as she relaxed the stranglehold she’d had on it these last few months. Long months. But he still hadn’t said what she needed to hear. He’d said sorry and for a man like JJ, with the way he’d treated her, she still wasn’t sure this wasn’t another elaborate stunt.

“No, there aren’t,” she agreed, her expression guarded. “Was that it?”

“Dammit Zette! I’m trying to apologise, give me something to work with here!” he exploded, voice fraught with frustration as he took a step toward her. She stood her ground, glaring at him as her anger flared.

“Why the hell should I? In case you’ve forgotten, you were the one that was—”

He reached her in an instant, hands smoothing down her arms to take her hands before she realised, could stop him.

“I know baby, I know and I’m sorry,” he said softly, his hazel eyes more green than brown as he looked down at her. He held her gaze, thumbs stroking over the back of her hands. “I realise what a prize idiot I was, I can’t say any more than sorry and…I love you.”

He looked down, as though he couldn’t bear to meet her eyes anymore, waiting for her to say something. But she couldn’t, the pain in her heart blossoming out to become hope and stealing her breath. Underneath her heart, the baby jumped and kicked, as though she knew her daddy was close by. A daddy Zette had thought she’d have to grow up just looking at in photos or pictures in the press. When she didn’t reply, he pressed his lips together, his shoulders drooping in defeat.

“Thank you for listening to me, I didn’t deserve even that.” His lips quirked. “Actually I was surprised to get through security.” He leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I’ll leave you in peace, if that’s what you want?”

His question hung in the air, shimmering between them. She knew if she asked him to leave now, that would be it. He wouldn’t bother her again. The JJ she knew, the one that had played games with their marriage and her heart, would. He’d have kept harassing her until he’d got what he wanted. But this man, the one standing in front of her with longing and hope in his voice, somehow she knew she was looking at a completely new JJ.

She took a deep breath and looked up, wondering whether she could take a chance with her heart again. Could she afford not to with her baby involved, a baby who deserved a chance to get to know her father?

“Say it again—” she asked, her voice breaking a little as she spoke.

It was all the excuse he needed, dragging her against his hard body and enfolding her in his arms. “Say what again love? That I’m sorry, thank you for listening to me or that I love you more than life itself? That if I ever cock up like that again I’ll… well, I won’t. Not that badly. Not ever. But you can name your forfeit for if I even slightly piss you off. I’ll do anything if you agree to have me back,” he admitted gruffly, his eyes suspiciously wet.

She smiled through her tears and reached up to touch his face, smoothing her fingers over the stubble on his cheeks. Her heart filled with love and, more importantly, hope. Hope that they could turn this around despite its rocky start.

“How about breakfast in bed…forever?” she replied gently, her answer in her eyes. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for him. “And you get up to feed the baby, when she puts in an appearance.”

His eyes flicked down to her stomach, the hard swell between them. “Anything,” he promised, wonder in his eyes as he reached down to touch it. He paused at the last moment, looking up for permission. Zette nodded, biting her lip as he knelt down. His big hands smoothed over her and inside she could feel the baby move, considering this new presence and deciding whether to batter the hell out of him with feet and fists.

But she didn’t. Zette almost felt the happy little movement as, unborn, the baby moved against her daddy’s hands and settled down to sleep. He smiled and planted a gentle kiss on the bump.

“She?” he asked, standing and drawing her tight against him. A shudder went through his big body as she leaned against him, letting him take her weight. Trusting him. “I suppose that means I have to put up with two bossy women about the place eh?”

Zette grinned, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Yep. Just remember to do everything we say and you’ll be fine.”

About Mina Carter

http://www.lyricalpress.com/mina_carter.html

Mina Carter can be found exploring in the middle of the English countryside with her real-life hero and their young daughter…the true boss of the family. As a successful businesswoman, Mina never tires of learning new skills, qualified in such fields as Aromatherapy, welding and corsetry.

She juggles full-time mumhood, running a family business and writing, tossing another ball in the air with her cover artwork. For her, writing time is the wee hours of the morning or any spare minute that can be begged, bought or conned.

Her first stories were penned at age 11, when she used a stationery set meant for Christmas thank you letters to write stories instead. More recently, she wrote for her own amusement to save on outrageous monthly book bills, as well as for the masses of friends on her doorstep demanding longer stories. Now you’ll find her reading and writing original worlds where romance is a must.

Mina’s website:

http://mina-carter.com/

Reader email:

mina@mina-carter.com

Also Available by Mina Carter

Moon Madness

http://www.lyricalpress.com/moon_madness

It's never easy staying ahead of the pack when hunting for the right man.

Penny Stephens is a wolf with problems. She's contended with her wild side all her life, but it's about to catch up with her. She needs a mate who can love the woman and tame the wolf within.

Not just any wolf will do.

Lone wolf Cade Steele could be the one to fill her needs. He's wolf enough to match her animal instinct, and perhaps enough of a gentleman to satisfy her feminine side. As a mated pair, her bed might become part of his territory, but her heart is another matter.

More than love is at stake in this call of the wild.

Warning: Paranormal geeks, a sexy loner and hot sex (oh, and chocolate cake).

Also Available from Lyrical Press, Inc.

Ty’s Magic Finger

By Jennifer Cole

http://www.lyricalpress.com/tys_magic_fingers

Is it possible your fate and destiny can be found in a stranger's arms?

Two years after the end of a bad relationship, Ty is forced to confront his deep emotional hunger. Then a lovely dark-haired stranger turns his life upside down.

With her self-esteem battered, Charlee Bannister takes refuge in picturesque Silverton, Colorado. Vowing to never again allow a man to control her, she finds herself on a sexually stimulating guided tour of self-exploration and awareness with the helpful hands of a handsome artist.

A passionate weekend in Ty's creative hands only raises questions. When Charlee storms into Ty's life, will he remain an artist without a muse? Will his desire for more than her touch send Charlee fleeing?

Bid For Love

By Savannah Chase

http://www.lyricalpress.com/bid_for_love

Her fantasy man is up for auction. Will Nico dare to bid?

Nico's history of romantic disasters has taught her when she gambles on men, she's fated to lose. That doesn't stop her from secretly lusting after Jeff, the handsome construction worker she sees every day on her way to work.

When the New York's Sexiest Bachelor auction begins and Jeff comes up on the block, she's seriously tempted to place a bid. The wager can't be taken lightly -- It might be for a good cause, but she's making a bid for love...

Warning: This book contains explicit sex, strong language.

The People You Know, the Sex They Have

By Aubrey Leatherwood

http://www.lyricalpress.com/the_people_you_know_the_sex_they_have

Work is hard -- take time to play.

Hall Monitor: Security guard Eric Mallisham has everything he wants except for Gayle Dearing, an aloof yet smoldering stunner in a suit and stilettos. Gayle, an accounting manager, has everything she wants, too, except for that one elemental, passionate connection she's sought but never found. Their dual desires collide when Eric seizes an opportunity to speak to her, banning her from having drinks in the company library. An electric awareness of each other flares, and Gayle entices Eric with a simple request: Watch me.

The Kiln: All Lucious wants is a nice job with benefits. But once he starts working at Blaylock's Brickmaking, the eerily tight-knit team on the night shift gives him so much more to desire. For one, there's his trainer, Tammy, who knows how to fire bricks and fire up his desire… Welcome to the kiln, where the ovens are never as hot as the employees!

Sahara: Graduation looms, and so does a proposal from Sahara's boyfriend. Sahara's happy -- or maybe not. She doesn't have a job yet and she finds herself drawn more and more to Ingo with his piercing blue eyes, honeyed accent, and body built for travel… Decisions, decisions. Will Sahara find wedded bliss and stability, or will she get on a plane to Munich?

Warning: this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language.

Lyrical Press

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6