Page 61 of One More Bad Boy

Frowning to myself, I wondered why the encounter had made my hair stand on end.Guys like him trick off my bullshit meter,I told myself.

The door opened again; Violet poked her head out, flashing an apologetic smile. “We're going to need more time to think over our choices. We'll speak with your agents soon, thank you for coming.”

There was a chorus of frustrated mumbles. As the crowd thinned, Violet spotted me. “Amina, why are you here?” she asked as she approached.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“You could have called, you know that.”

Sure, but you can't avoid me in person,I thought. “Violet, when am I going to get some time in the booth?”

Her mouth flattened into a tired line. “I know I said I'd get you in there soon, but look, there's a lot happening. I need that space so I can get some of our potential new talent in to record some tracks for Bach.”

“For Bach?”

“It's the only way to change his mind about his bad decisions,” she grumbled. “Sorry, I know I promised one thing and I'm saying another, but you really will get into the booth soon. Okay?”

My shoulders slumped. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great!” She slipped on a faux, cheerful mask, her heels clicking away from me. “I have to make some calls. We'll get lunch again soon. Bye, Amina!”

I watched her go, with frustration building at the back of my skull. It made my eyeballs ache. The busy hallway had emptied out; I was alone, nothing to keep me company but the framed pictures on the walls. I stared at a black and white photo of a young woman holding up a shiny record-shaped award. A thirty-something Laurence grinned with pride. At his side stood a younger, friendlier looking Sherman.

My hand settled on my pocket, feeling the weight of the business card inside.Maybe he was right, maybe I’m just bait to lure better artists.

“Amina?” Bach called my name like his tongue was coated in thick honey.

He was standing in the doorway of the audition room. Our eyes locked, I wondered how such an empty, air-conditioned corridor could become so warm. “Bach, hi.”

“What’s going on, did you want to audition all over again?” His eyes twinkled with humor. “If you say yes, I’ll know you’re a sadist.”

He came to meet me, strolling in that comfortable, subconsciously cocky way of his. I was terribly tempted to play along with his flirting. Especially when he traced his own mouth, sending a phantom kiss up my inner thigh.Remember why you’re here!“Violet promised me that I could get some time in the recording booth.”

He looked around, quietly noting his VP was nowhere in sight.

I nodded and said, “She ran off to handle morepressingwork. Those auditions you mentioned are taking up all the resources. It’s so frustrating,” I said, laughing bitterly. “All I want to do is record my music. It’s why I'm out here, and it's the one thing no one will make time for me to do.”

He squinted at me, like I was some curious new animal. “I will.”

I balked. “Are you serious?”

“You should be getting to work on your first album. I'd be doing you a disservice as your manager if I left you wilting here in Los Angeles, producing nothing. What good does that do either of us?”

Welling up with joy, I couldn’t control my emotions. My arms circled him in a hug before I could think it through. “Thank you! Thank you so, so much, Bach!”

He wasn’t moving. He didn’t hug me back.

I became aware of the fibers of his thin, cotton, black shirt; soft, pleasantly warm. He’d dressed casually today, as if he knew he didn’t have to impress anyone with fancy clothes. He wasBach Devine,all the women who’d lined up for him were aware of what he was worth.

Did any of them get this close to him in that room?

Did they know how amazing he smelled?

Jumping backwards, I tried to keep myself from blushing like an idiot. Bach’s hands were lifted by his chest, away from his body, as if he’d been about to return my hug. But then they slid into his pockets and I wondered if I was wrong.

I cleared my throat. “So, what's the plan? You going to kick some people out of a booth, swing your CEO fists around?”

Shaking his head, he strode down the hall. He spoke without looking back at me. “I have a much more elegant idea. Let's go home.”

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