Page 4 of Naughty Dreams
When they finished the run through, Tal twirled his drumsticks around his fingers as Pete and Steve exchanged a look. “That works. Fucking A.”
“Yeah.” DJ took a swig from a bottle of water and readjusted his guitar. “One more time. Then I’ll leave it alone.”
“So what do you think?” Moss sat down, a seat between him and Roy. Roy gave him a nod without taking his eyes off the stage. Off of the singer.
“I’m looking forward to the meeting.”
When Roy Bloodwell rose from the conference room table, DJ thought he’d been thrust into a dungeon bedroom draped with velvet and chains, and his cell mate was a walking fantasy of songs waiting to be written.
Jam on toast, the man was a Dominant. And he knew he was looking at a submissive, DJ would bet on it. Those windy day, gray sky eyes showed that flicker, a secret code of awareness. His dark blond hair was cut smooth and short, a little feathering across his high forehead to make DJ’s fingertips itch to stroke.
“So do I need to promise to obey your every word and kiss your ass before you’ll take the job?” Because he felt like tasting what was in front of him, DJ had to offer some attitude.
Don’t draw me closer.
Yank me to you
Hand to my throat.
Deny me with your eyes
Command me with them
Hold me with them.
Some words were too dangerous to put down. Like writing the devil’s name on a party invitation.
“DJ,” Moss said, low, but Roy held up a hand.
“When clients know they’re in trouble, some of them act out to hold onto control of their lives. You can shut that shit down. I’m not here to take control of anything you don’t willingly relinquish to me, Mr. James.”
Crap, that was nicely played. And his voice…a masculine vibrato mixed with the kick that chased smooth whiskey. Damn, he was hot. His rugged features suggested he was near or at forty. Old enough to tease him about it, if DJ wanted to yank his chain. Maybe later.
“No need for the Mr. James bullshit. Total strangers call me DJ.”
“Yes. They assume a familiarity with you that can lead to misunderstandings and bad behavior. Do you invite the whole world into your bedroom, Mr. James? Since I’ll be in your most intimate spaces, I’ve found being more formal makes things less confusing. It solidifies the mutual respect needed to protect you properly.”
Every word hit the strings that ran through DJ’s core. Since a poker face was a necessary skill for living in the spotlight, DJ kept his expression bland, but Roy’s intent look suggested he’d already cracked the cover of this particular book and was deep into the first chapter.
“I’m pretty self-aware, Mr. Bloodwell. I’ve learned to use humor to deal with uncontrollable situations, and I’m not a frightened child. Tell me what you need from me.”
If Roy could do his “willingly relinquish” tease, DJ could respond with provocative nuance. A subtle change in Roy’s face suggested he’d caught it, but he stayed on point. “That song you were working on. You’re sending him a message.”
“You have a problem with that?”
“No. Don’t taunt him, though. He doesn’t need encouragement.”
“You think it’s a man.”
“Yes.” Roy gestured to the chair across from him, and DJ obligingly took it. Moss sat to DJ’s right, watching the byplay with concern and curiosity.
Roy took up DJ’s field of vision, his back straight, shoulders wide, hands clasped together on the table. Clean short nails, strong-looking grip.
“The handwriting analysis on the letters the police believe he sent to you suggest he’s male. He claims he can care for you better than anyone else, but the subtext is he wants to own you. You’re his territory, and anyone else in your life is competition. Even as she’d be jealous of those around you, more nurturing language would slip into a woman’s communications.”
DJ considered that. “You have a suggestion?”
“Drop the ‘deal with it, fucker.’ Also avoid any language that suggests you’re in some kind of boat, taking a journey together.”
