Page 4 of Undercover Star
Yeah, why don't you go and fucking rub it in?Matisse swallowed the comment. He was a star. He had fans to please. Whining because he couldn't make the music he wanted was disrespectful to the people who bought his records and followed him so devotedly. It was also an utterly pointless exercise when he hadn't yet made the decision to walk away from it all. He wasn't far off calling it quits and starting over with a different style, but he wasn't quite there yet.
He slid onto the bench opposite Josh and set his phone on the table in front of him. "Right. I'm here. What do you need?"
Josh raised an eyebrow. He looked from Matisse to the phone, and if he noticed the absence of a coffee mug, he didn't mention it. "Are you always this abrupt or is it too early for your manners?"
"Listen. I have a radio interview in an hour and rehearsals after that. I've agreed to come out and talk to you, but I'm not gonna rearrange my day for some—"
"Rock star attitude. Great."
Matisse stood. He wasn't taking that kind of crap from anyone, not even a detective who was beyond hot. "I don't. Do. Rock. Understood? I also have responsibilities and people who rely on me. If not ditching them just because you crook a finger counts as attitude, then go ahead and slap on the label." He turned to leave, and flinched when Josh's large hand closed around his wrist.
"That was out of line. I'm sorry. Can we start over?"
Matisse considered Josh's earnest mien and honest gaze. He dropped his eyes to the fingers still circling his wrist. Stared at them until Josh let go. As if moving took effort, he returned to the table and slid back into the booth.
"Thank you. Can I get you a coffee?"
"I've had three already. I'm good, thanks."
"Three coffees? When did you get up?"
"At three." Matisse shrugged. "I'm at least a workout and two hours of work ahead of you, Inspector. And as I said earlier, I have a radio interview in an hour. So can we please get on with it?"
Josh folded the paper and pushed it to one side. "Tim. The detective super. What did he tell you?"
"You're chasing an art thief who steals jewellery at big charity functions. I, apparently, spend my days at such events and can a) get you in there and b) protect you from too much scrutiny while you apprehend the thief."
"Apparently? You don't believe it."
"No. You're the police. You can get into any function you need to get into. So what do you really want?"
"It's a misconception that we can go and do what we want. This isn't a police state."
The condescending tone sent another wave of annoyance rippling through Matisse. He yawned. Then he turned his wrist up and looked at his watch. "You done, Inspector?"
"Josh. Call me Josh. And tell me whether you know Kilbride House."
"It's in Holborn. Gorgeous rooms, but the acoustics are crap."
"I need to get in there."
"Ring the bell."
"Can you be any more of an arse?"
"I'm sure I can manage if I work at it."
Josh's glare ran off Matisse like water off an oilskin. He had resigned himself to help, but he wasn't going to do it blindfold. He had fans, advertisers, and corporate sponsors to think of. Not to mention his manager, who would be having an apoplexy as soon as she found out. Matisse didn't want Marissa to go nuclear on the detective superintendent. Tim Montgomery had been courteous and professional. He'd treated Matisse like a person, not a dress-up doll. Josh Ingram on the other hand....
"I'm still waiting to find out what you need from me, Inspector."
"I told you. Ineedto get into Kilbride House."
"And?" Matisse waved his hands in aget on with itgesture. "It's not as if I own the place or have a key."
"Oh." Josh pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. His cheeks flushed a rather endearing shade, and Matisse swallowed on a wave of heat and a few inappropriate thoughts. "You're clearly three coffees ahead of me."
"And a workout," Matisse reminded kindly.
