For One Night Only (6 page)

‘I warned you not to cut your hair, didn’t I? But you couldn’t wait. You had to have it done straight away.’ Byron placed his hands on his hips. ‘So now, your publicity shots are out of date.’

He was right, of course, but Ruben wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable. Fixing Byron with a glare that always terrified the road crew, Ruben was pissed that it didn’t scare him at all. Just this once, he wished his friend would give him some personal space and allow him to make his own decisions. He told him so.

‘Fine,’ Byron snapped, looking offended. ‘You can wipe your own ass for a change.’

Ruben felt bad as he watched Byron launch into the tidying and cleaning he always did when he was angry. Clothes were put away at record speed, newspapers folded, things moved to one side and then put back for no good reason as he muttered mutinously under his breath. Ruben tried to ignore him, but verbal missiles like ‘better things to do’ and ‘must think I don’t have a life of my own’ came flying at him from all directions through the charged atmosphere.

Smiling despite himself, Ruben couldn’t stay mad for long. Guilt at causing the uncharacteristic outburst from Byron sent him scurrying to the kitchen. Returning minutes later with a cup of tea, he guided him to a chair, placing the drink in his hand. ‘I am sorry,’ he said, giving Byron’s shoulder a brief squeeze.

The smile he received in response showed him all was forgiven. Taking a sip of the tea, Byron spoke. ‘But what am I going to tell the label?’

Shaking his head, Ruben was at a loss for an answer. ‘I don’t know, tell them you couldn’t find me.’ He warmed to the idea. ‘Tell them we had a fight and I stormed out.’

Byron wasn’t convinced but agreed, warning Ruben to remember he was a terrible liar and they would never believe him. ‘That doesn’t matter. Don’t you see, they’ll be so relieved when I arrive for the gig tomorrow night, they will have forgotten all about the photo shoot. Hell, they are always canceling those things on a moments notice anyway.’

Byron nodded in agreement, before surprising him with a change of topic as subtle as a sledgehammer. ‘It’s that doctor, isn’t it?’

‘What?’

‘
Bethany. She is the reason you want to stay tonight?’ Byron folded his arms, convinced he was right and looking smug about it. Ruben didn’t answer him. ‘Is she worth all this trouble? You hardly know the woman.’

Ruben erupted from his seat. ‘That isn’t the point.’ He paused unsure what the point actually was. ‘I just want to do this. I want one evening the way I want to spend it, with a person I want to spend it with. I don’t want to be told where to go or what to wear or when to sleep or when to get up.’ He ran out of steam then, sure Byron didn’t have a clue what the hell he was talking about.

‘I understand Ruben, really I do, and sure, if you want a night to yourself, then we will make it happen.’ Byron said, compassion warming his eyes. ‘But you know that’s not gonna solve anything?’ Ruben shook his head, unsure of his meaning.

‘We should never have signed that contract,’ Byron sighed.

‘Huh. That wasn’t a contract.’ Ruben spat out. ‘Indentured servitude is a better description.’ The five-album deal he’d signed a few years earlier had seemed like a dream come true at first. Problem was, three albums later, he was marking time, desperate for it to end. He’d decided long ago that as soon as he was free, he would launch his own label.
No record company would ever own him again.

Ruben looked at his watch, guessing
Bethany would be arriving soon. About to tell Byron to make himself scarce, he remembered suddenly that, despite his earlier protestations about doing things alone, he needed his help again. ‘Any chance you could scare up a gourmet meal for two before disappearing discreetly?’ he asked with a cheeky grin. Byron choked on his tea at Ruben’s audacity. Wiping his shirt front, he shook his head in mock censure, but got straight on the phone to room service.

Chapter 6

She arrived at his suite just after
midnight
. It seemed an insane time to eat and she wondered if his offer was genuine or simply a ploy to get her alone. Ruben opened the door, welcoming her into a beautiful room with a fully laid table waiting in front of the balcony.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he said, surprising her with the formality of his greeting. Following his gaze, she spotted a waiter discreetly organizing dishes on a serving trolley in the corner of the room.

Allowing him to seat her at the table, she accepted a glass of wine. ‘This all seems so surreal. Do you often entertain at this time of night?’

He held her gaze for a moment before answering. ‘No, not often.’

Bethany
had dressed simply, having brought nothing with her from Vegas. A black linen shift that she intended to fly home in had been her only choice. His appreciative glance at her legs when she’d first entered the suite bolstered her confidence. She thought he looked gorgeous in the t-shirt, jeans and casual jacket he had chosen.

The meal was wonderful.
Bethany couldn’t tell if the glow she felt was from the wine or his presence.
Maybe it was a little of both?
He had managed to make her forget the nervousness that had almost stopped her from accepting his invitation.
What was it about him that scared her so much?

Conversation flowed easily despite her nerves and they laughed when
Bethany reminded him of her niece’s behavior earlier. Ruben assured her there was no need to apologize. Apparently, Tyla had been well behaved compared to some he had encountered.

During a lapse in the conversation,
Bethany’s eyes lingered on his hands and the strong fingers gripping the fork. The memory of those fingers working their way up her body earlier in the day made her face flood with color. Dropping her head to hide her blush, she willed her tightening groin to calm down. He appeared to notice the change in her demeanor and asked if she was okay as she took a big gulp of her wine.

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said, as brightly as she could given the circumstances. He looked like he didn’t believe her for one minute, but thankfully didn’t pursue it. To her relief, he took the hint and changed topic, asking instead about her family.

Mischief twinkled in his eyes. ‘What exactly is the story with that sister of yours?’

Glad of the diversion, she told him a few tales about ‘that sister’ that made him laugh out loud. He seemed content to let her talk and watched her intently, smiling and nodding often. Nerves forgotten, she was eternally grateful to her sister for giving her so much to talk about. Careful to make sure he got the right impression about Donna,
Bethany told him of some of the crazier things she had done in her life, laughing to herself as the memories flooded back.

Eventually, she realized he had stopped listening as she became aware of his eyes on her face, tracing every feature. He appeared very attentive and focused on what she was saying, but managed to move subtly closer until it seemed only natural when he picked her hand up from the table and began to stroke it with his fingertips. Her voice died in her throat as she watched him silently. An ache rose slowly upward from her groin causing her to flush and part her lips, suddenly short of breath. His grin told her that he knew what he was doing.

Bethany
tried to continue the conversation, but had trouble thinking. Stealing the occasional furtive glance at him, she found his attention on either her mouth, her breasts or her hair. Becoming flushed and fidgety under the heat of his stare and the sexual energy that flowed from him, she marveled how he could he make her wet just by looking at her.

Thanks to the wine, she had the weird sensation of being excited and terrified at the same time. It surprised her to realize she actually liked him a hell of a lot
. Yes, he made her feel like a frightened teenager, but that was mostly all her own doing. He was actually a genuinely nice person and she enjoyed spending time with him so why couldn’t she just relax?
She pulled her hand away, smoothing down her hair in a self-conscious gesture—wishing he would stop staring at her.

‘
Bethany. What are you afraid of?’ he asked suddenly.

Smiling shyly, she hesitated before deciding on telling the truth. ‘I don’t like to lose control, I guess.’

‘Do you think you would lose control with me?’ he teased, leaning in closer. His tone was light, but she could feel the tension in him as he waited for her answer.

‘I’m trying not to,’ she admitted, cursing the wine for loosening her tongue. A question appeared in his eyes and if the waiter not chosen that exact moment to come back into the room, she knew he would have tested her willpower. His expression told her she’d had a lucky escape…for now.

Instructing the waiter to leave the dessert trolley and clear the table, Ruben led her out onto the balcony to have their coffee.
Bethany stared out over the city, awed by the view you could buy if you were rich enough. The last thing she needed now was another reminder of the differences between them. Pushing the thought from her mind, she sighed away the tension as the breeze caressed her skin and whipped at her hair. Bracing her hands on the wooden rail, she closed her eyes and took in a deep, cleansing breath—vaguely registering the sound of a door closing as the waiter left the suite. She only realized Ruben was behind her when he slipped an arm around her shoulders. Startled at first, she willed herself to relax and allowed him to pull her close.

‘It’s beautiful out here,’ she whispered.

‘You are beautiful.’

Unused to such open compliments,
Bethany ignored it, groping blindly for a neutral subject to distract him with. ‘I’ll be sorry to leave tomorrow. This trip has been wonderful,’ she said wistfully.

‘Can’t you stay away any longer?’

What was he asking her?
She warned herself against reading any more into the question before answering. ‘I have to go back. I’m needed at work.’

‘I see…’

Ruben went quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time.
Bethany watched him out of the corner of her eye and it made her smile to see he was a little nervous too. She realized he didn’t know what to do next. Reaching up to smooth down the hair that was blowing into her face, she turned to ask him when he was leaving.

Catching her hand, he brought it to his mouth, turning it over and kissing her palm. She watched mesmerized as his warm lips brushed over the pulse on her wrist before he raised his head abruptly, dragging her to him. Threading his hands into her hair, he didn’t hesitate, capturing her mouth instantly with his.

Feeling him harden against her abdomen, she held herself rigid, still afraid to give in and take what she wanted. Ruben’s hands were insistent, grabbing her hips to pull her pelvis against his. Sinking into the sensation,
Bethany’s brain told her to stop, but her body wasn’t listening. She found her hands on his shoulders and willed them to stay there, surprised when they ignored her and worked their way down his back to pull the t-shirt from his jeans. Ruben’s groan as her hands touched the skin above his waistband was answered by a tightening in her groin.

The hands molding her ass began to pull her harder onto the thigh he had slipped between her legs. Grinding against the taut muscle, her breath caught as heat raced through her. Biting down on his bottom lip, his gasp surprised her and she pulled away suddenly, afraid she had been too rough.

Ruben looked confused. ‘What’s wrong? You didn’t hurt me if that’s what you are worried about.’

‘I can’t do this out here.’ She laughed, embarrassment making her lie, mortified at how easily she was losing control. He must think she was some frustrated old woman.

‘We can go inside if you like,’ he said softly, flicking a tongue into her ear, ‘as long as you promise to bite me again.’
Bethany punched him in the arm for seeing through her so easily, but returned his smile and didn’t resist as he led her from the balcony into the darkness of the bedroom.

He was less gentle as he pulled her to him again inside the room. His hands searched blindly for the zipper on her tight linen dress. Having no success, he stopped and turned her around to look for it. ‘How the hell does this open?’

Worried he was about to tear it from her body, she brushed his hands out of the way before he did any damage. Cursing her decision to wear the damn thing, she remembered that there was no zipper and the only way out of it was over her head. Shaking a little, she reached down to the hem and pulled the dress off, giving herself no time to prepare for his eyes on her.

By the time she turned back to face him, his jacket and t-shirt were off. Her underwear stopped him dead in his tracks and she almost laughed at his expression. The black camisole she wore was totally functional with nothing but a lace insert at the cleavage to make it ‘feminine’. His reaction surprised her but she was glad he liked it. She held the discarded dress against her, unable to simply stand there with his eyes on her body.