PartyStarter (2 page)

Julia turned, gyrating in place, lifting her arms up over
her head, tangling her hands in her hair. The position thrust her breasts out,
the front of her dress so low cut that the very tops of her areolas were
visible—if one looked close enough. That didn’t bother her, though. She’d had
more wardrobe malfunctions during her career than she could count, and nobody
at any of those parties had minded one iota.

Stone reached her, his attention firmly fixed on her
breasts.

“I like what you’ve got there, Pussycat.”

Julia lowered her arms, running her hands down the sides of
those globes and down to her waist. His emphasis wasn’t lost on her.

“‘Pussycat’?” she asked.

He stepped closer, grasping her hips in his hands. He pulled
her to him, pressing her firmly against his pelvis. Julia gulped in a breath.

“Yeah,” he said, his expression intense. “‘Kitty’ is too
cutesy, too little-girlish. ‘Pussycat’ is sexier, more seductive. And besides,”
his fingertips pressed into her hips, slowly kneading her flesh, “it’s your
pussy that everyone here wants, isn’t it?”

Julia was saved from answering by a change in the music. The
techno beat slowed, still pulsating, but now more erotic, more seductive. Stone
released her hips, sliding the palms of his hands farther down, teasing the
very edges of her ass, to the tops of her thighs and the hem of her dress. He
stroked the skin there deliberately, intently, then brought his hands back to
her waist. Julia opened her mouth to speak but Stone pulled her closer,
swiveled his hips, and began to move.

And the universe as Julia knew it tilted askew by several
degrees.

Her first thought was,
damn, the man’s good. Better than
good.
He led her gracefully yet seductively on the floor, encouraging and
directing her with the tiniest of subtle gestures. He moved as though he’d been
born to it, and Julia was aware of a ripple of exclamation pulsating through
the crowd. Stone pulled her closer to him, their bodies fitting like
interlocking puzzle pieces. An overwhelming feeling of rightness, of perfection
settled over her, and her brain whirled, disconcerted.

Her second thought was,
I’ve been played! Not a dancer,
my ass.
A white-hot spear of anger knifed through the admiration and for a
few seconds she was truly annoyed. He’d lied to her. Well, okay, not
necessarily an out-and-out lie, but one of omission. Something was certainly
fishy here.

Then he executed a clever, yet tricky move and the anger was
supplanted by giddiness mixed with a touch of awe. She never danced with guys
like this. Usually they tried hard, but were slightly self-conscious, awkward
or simply had no rhythm at all and did nothing more than grind their hips
against hers. But dancing with someone who knew what he was doing and was
damned good at it…well, it was an entirely welcome and thrilling experience.

Insinuating his knee between hers, he looped his arm around
her waist, keeping her close, causing her to nearly sit on his thigh. Julia
groaned as her pussy pressed firmly against his hard, muscular leg, and she
squirmed, rubbing herself against him. She pressed her palms against his chest,
marveling for a moment at the firm muscle beneath his t-shirt. She let her
upper body relax and arched backward, her breasts straining against the
neckline of her dress. Stone’s tongue nestled into her cleavage, licking a path
between her breasts. One of his hands tangled in her hair and he tugged at it
possessively, forcing her back to arch even more.

The fabric straining around her breasts finally gave way as
one globe slipped free of its constraints. A shock of pleasure made her toes
curl in her platform stilettos.

But then Stone’s hot, wet mouth clamped down on her aroused
nipple and the world around her shattered. Reaching up, she gripped him by his
hair, holding him in place as she ground her pussy against him. A roar of
approval rose from the crowd, and belatedly Julia realized that they were all
still watching. Some cell phones were even being pointed in her direction and
she found she couldn’t bring herself to care.

The pressure was mounting and the tingle in her pelvis that
heralded her approaching orgasm slowly built. She was going to come, dammit,
right here on the dance floor, and it was going to feel so good…

The booming voice of the DJ broke through her lust-filled
haze.

“Damn, folks, was that the hottest thing you’ve ever seen,
or what?” He wolf-whistled and growled. “But it’s time to announce last call at
the bar, and I’d like to invite Ms. Kitty up here to give us one final
send-off. What do you say?”

The room reverberated with applause and catcalls.

Taking deep breaths to steady her racing heart, Julia slowly
pushed Stone away and adjusted her clothing. She flashed him a slightly
unsteady smile. Work. She had to concentrate on work. Not on how much this man
had just thrown her for a loop.

“Baby, you can dance with me anytime, but now I’ve got to
go. I hope I’ll see you again.”

Stone’s eyes were intense, his pulse beating rapidly in his
neck, but otherwise he appeared calm and completely in control. “I appreciate
the invitation, and I know I’ll see you very, very soon.”

Julia turned and made her way to the DJ’s platform, wobbling
only slightly on her heels. She took the time to gather her composure en route,
brushing away Stone’s somewhat odd response. Whatever. Time to bring the house
down.

She climbed the few steps and accepted a microphone from the
DJ.

“Hey gang, how’s it going?”

Screams answered her.

“Well, you’ve been a kick-ass group, and I know I had so
much fun tonight. So we’re going to send you home with a bang. Make sure you
take it back to your bedrooms!”

She turned to hand the mic back, and was startled to see
Stone joining her on stage.

“Stone? What’s going on, honey? I’ve got to do the last
number.”

He nodded. “I know. I thought I’d join you. You did invite
me.”

Julia frowned slightly. “What? No, baby. I meant I’d dance
with you on the floor another time. Not on stage.”

Stone’s eyes crinkled with amusement and the look made her
knees shake. Dammit.

“Oh, but I think I’ll stay.” The song had begun and he
gyrated his hips next to her.

Aware that a large portion of the crowd was curiously
watching their exchange, Julia pasted a smile firmly on her lips, but spoke
through her teeth. “Sorry, Stone, or whatever your name is, I work alone. So
please get the hell off my stage before I call security over.”

Stone flashed a cocky, megawatt grin in her direction. “Too
bad, Puss. I can’t do that because I’m supposed to be up here with you. I’m
your new partner.”

Chapter Two

The elevator ride was eternal.

Barry Manilow muzak chimed perkily at her, doing nothing to
improve Julia’s mood. She hadn’t been able to reach Ricky Sinclair all day
yesterday, so instead of getting Saturday night’s obviously grievous mix-up
cleared with her agent right away, she’d been forced to wait all through Sunday
until Monday morning.

Julia crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot.
Stone-the-Jackass’ face continued to appear in her mind, fueling the fire. Her
cheeks burned with both rage and humiliation as the remainder of Saturday night
replayed over and over in her head, bringing back echoes of another time, another
debacle. Julia could feel her blood pressure rising with every heartbeat.

Instead of closing out the night with a bang as usual, it
had been more like a whimper. Her regular solo number had become an impromptu
duet—one where she continuously felt off-kilter. The crowd had been
appreciative, sure, but that didn’t really matter so much. Then she’d stormed
out, not lingering to socialize like she usually did, and continued to fume
through a glass of wine and a hot bubble bath.

“‘I’m your new partner’?” Renewed anger had her talking to
the empty elevator car. What in the bloody hell was this partner crap? Ricky
had damn well have some good answers, or heads were going to roll.

With a soft ding the elevator doors opened, leading into a
short hallway that contained three office doors. She headed to the one marked
“Ricky Sinclair, Talent Management” and entered without knocking.

In the reception area, an exquisitely coiffed young blond
man sat primly behind a large chrome and glass desk, typing rapidly on a computer
keyboard.

Without glancing her way he said, “Have a seat, please. I’ll
be with you in a moment.”

Gritting her teeth, Julia replied, “No, you’ll be with me
now. I spoke with you on the phone ten minutes ago, Jordan. I’m going in to his
office, and he’d better be there.”

Eyes wide, Jordan half-rose from his seat, then slowly
lowered himself back down, taking the wiser course of action. “O-okay, Julia.
Go right in.”

Storming down the hallway, Julia opened Ricky’s office door
and flung it wide.

“All right, Sinclair. I want some answers, and I want them
now. Just who the hell is this Stone guy—”

Her gaze landed on the second person in the room, seated in
one of Ricky’s guest chairs.

Speak of the devil, looking unbelievably edible in worn
jeans, a fitted crewneck shirt and black hobnail boots. A day’s growth of
stubble covered his chin and gave him a rough and ready look.

“Punctual, Puss,” Stone grinned at her. “Good trait to
have.” His gaze traveled slowly up and down her body, pausing at the V of her
sweater and lingering on her legs. Julia could have sworn she felt his touch,
and a delicious shiver rippled through her body.

Doing her best to ignore her traitorous body’s reaction to
Stone’s presence, Julia jumped her gaze from man to man, finally settling on
the one behind the desk.

Ricky Sinclair’s portly expanse was impeccable in a navy
pinstripe three-piece suit, complete with coordinating tie and pocket puff. He
sat back in his expensive leather desk chair, his elbows propped up on the
armrests and his fingers steepled together. His ever-present cigar stuck out of
the corner of his mouth. With the exception of the narrowing of his eyes, he
gave no outward sign of being surprised by her explosive entrance.

“Mornin’, my little sweet pea,” he said in a voice as soft
as goose down.

Julia shook her head at him. “Don’t you ‘sweet pea’ me,
Ricky. I want to know what he—” she pointed at Stone “—is doing here.”

“Oh, now, Puss,” Stone interjected with a slow, sexy drawl
that she hadn’t picked up on Saturday night, “is that any way to greet an old
friend?”

“Hold on there, Jack,” Ricky said, wagging an accusing
finger at him, “she deserves an explanation. You know that. Don’t be an ass.”

Stone—Jack?—held up his hands in a gesture of supplication.
“Whatever you say, boss.”

Ricky turned his attention back to Julia. “Honey, you’re
right, I haven’t been fair to you. I should have told you what I was planning
ahead of time, but I knew if I did that you would have been absolutely against
the idea. Have a seat, please, and hear me out.”

Grudgingly, Julia moved to the second guest chair in Ricky’s
office, pulled it several inches away from Stone and sat, crossing her arms
firmly over her chest. Her heart pounded furiously against her rib cage.

“Now,” Ricky began, “you know we have had great success with
the whole ‘party starter’ idea since we launched it two years ago. It might
have been slow at first, but now that it’s caught on and your reputation is
growing, I’m getting calls to book you eight to ten months in advance.”

Julia nodded, a fleeting pang of pride blooming in her
chest. She knew about her growing success, and was damn proud of it.

Ricky continued. “But along with those calls for bookings,
lately I’ve also started getting the odd call asking for a male party starter. It
seems a fair portion of the ladies also like you, but some want a bit more
testosterone at their parties. I found Jack through a mutual acquaintance and
thought I’d give him a try. It was wrong of me to spring him on you like that,
though, and I apologize.”

“You bet your ass it was wrong, Ricky. Have you forgotten
all about Jeremy?” Julia spat out the last word as though it were poisonous.

Sinclair raised his hands, palms up, in a gesture of
supplication.

“Oh, hell, sweet pea. I’ll never forget about Jeremy as long
as I live.”

“Neither will I, Ricky.” Julia paused, taking several deep
breaths in an attempt to calm herself. “If people want a male party starter
that’s fine, but I work alone, Ricky. You know that. These gigs are mine. No
way am I going to have a partner.”

Stone cleared his throat. “So who’s Jeremy?”

Julia shot him a glare decorated with razor blades. “None of
your business.”

Ricky shuffled through a stack of manila file folders that
lay atop his desk, the action drawing Julia’s attention back to her manager. He
opened one folder and selected the top sheet of paper. He handed it to her.
“This is a selection of blog posts, comments, Tweets and electronic
what-have-you that Jordan compiled for me yesterday. The Internet is abuzz with
talk about you and your ‘mystery partner’, and the chemistry and heat between
you two.” Ricky gave a deep, rumbling chuckle that faded and died as Julia
aimed her frozen glare at him instead of at Stone. “Uh, people thought you were
going to go ahead and have sex on the dance floor.”

Heat blossomed in her cheeks, the memory making it difficult
for her to hang on to her anger. If only Ricky knew… Julia focused her
attention on the page to avoid making eye contact with her agent. Quotation
after quotation gushed about her and about Stone, and about how they were an
amazing, incredibly sexy couple. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it.

“So what? So people were fooled by an act. That’s all it
was.” She knew it was a lie the moment the words passed her lips, but there was
no way in hell he was going to take away the best thing that had ever happened
to her.

“Is that so, Puss?” Stone spoke up. “Then you deserve an
award, because I seem to recall you really getting into what we were doing.”

Julia tossed the page negligently onto the desk. “An act.”
She turned her attention to Ricky. “Why can’t he have his own parties?”

“Because he hasn’t built his own reputation yet. You, my
dear, were a trailblazer in this arena, so unfortunately we had to build you
from the ground up. What I’m counting on is for the two of you to spike even
more interest in the whole party starter idea. You’ve gotta trust me on this,
sweet pea. If things go the way I think they will, your fees will be doubled in
no time, and we’re all gonna end up richer than Midas.”

The idea of working with Stone again—more than once,
even—sent an electric jolt straight through her pussy, even while her heart
sank. “You mean we have to keep putting on this act, even though you know very
well it’s the last thing I want to do?”

Ricky picked up the file folder and waved it around. “If
everyone here thought you were really hot for each other, then your act was
pretty fucking impressive, sweetheart. If you did it once, you can do it
again.” He dropped the file back onto his desk and turned his attention to his
smartphone. “I’ll make you a deal. Mick Sweetham’s people called me on Friday.
He’s planning a full-out, dusk-’til-dawn private party for two weeks from
Saturday, and he’s heard about this new big trend of having a party starter
make an appearance. So he wants to hire someone for most of the night. He is
also willing to pay twenty grand for this star performer. I’ve juggled your
schedule to make sure you’re both available that night.”

Julia froze in her chair. “Did you say twenty grand? As in,
twenty with three zeroes after it?” What the hell? Her heart thumped more
quickly in her chest. That was quite a paycheck for a few hours’ work. And Mick
Sweetham was a billionaire rock star with quite the bad-boy reputation. His parties
were the stuff legends were made of, and this one would be no exception. With
the sheer number of A-list celebrities and high-rollers there, Sweetham’s party
could make her career. All she had to do was play it right, and her bank
account would be very, very happy. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed
Stone sitting up straighter and paying closer attention as well.

Ricky nodded slowly. “So this is the way this is going to
play out. Julia, you’ve got gigs booked for Thursday and Saturday of this week.
Jack will be going with you. I’m going to plant people at those gigs who will
report back to me on how well this act of yours plays out. The person who puts
on a better show wins the Sweetham gig.”

Internally, Julia grinned. The person who put on a better
show? She’d been putting on these shows for two years now. She could do it
blindfolded—and in fact, actually had, once. Now that she was aware of the
plan, she wouldn’t be thrown off guard again. She could prepare. Keep control,
stay in charge. And knock the jerk’s socks clean off. The tension that had
knotted her shoulders began to ease. By rights, that job should be hers. But if
she had to compete for it she’d make sure she not only won, but clobbered that
idiot Stone.

She stood. “Fine, Ricky,” she said firmly with a short nod.
“I’m in on this deal.” She turned to Stone. “You. Make sure you’re on time and
that you’ve thoroughly taken care of personal hygiene. You’re going to be in a
sea of people, so you don’t need to slather on the aftershave. Just be clean
and fresh. I don’t drink alcohol at these parties to make sure I don’t lose
control of the situation. I would strongly suggest that you also abstain. Ricky
can give you all of the other details that you’ll need to know.” At his
silence, Julia pivoted and moved toward the door. As she grasped the handle,
she turned back to look at the two men.

“By the way, what’s with the whole Stone/Jack thing?”

Stone rose from his chair and took a few steps toward her.
He extended a hand. “It’s Jack Douglas, actually. You have a stage name, Julia.
I need one, too. I figured I’d try that one on for size and see how it fit.”

She ignored the proffered hand. “It’s ridiculous.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “And Kitty isn’t?”

Her tone grew icicles. “There’s nothing wrong with the name.
It means a lot to me, and frankly, it’s none of your business what name I use.”

Jack raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine,
whatever, Puss. See you on Thursday, and may the best man win.”

Julia bit her tongue. Hard. Damn this pain-in-the-ass jerk.
“Woman. And yes, I will.” She glanced at the desk. “Goodbye, Ricky. Let me know
if you have any more surprises up your sleeve, would you?”

Ricky’s expression turned sympathetic. “No more surprises,
sweet pea.” He inclined his head toward the other man. “You can trust Jack, I
promise. Good luck.”

“That remains to be seen.” A knot formed deep in her belly.
She had a very bad feeling about this. “Wish him luck, not me. He’s the one
who’s going to need it.” She left the office, closing the door as firmly as she
could without actually slamming it.

“Partner, huh?” She grumbled to herself as she swept past
the still wide-eyed Jordan and out toward the elevator. “Fair and square? Yeah,
right. A bunch of bullshit, if I ever heard it.” A sharp pain twinged deep in
her chest. Long-ago promises of fame and wealth echoed hollowly in her head. No
matter how hard she tried to forget or how much time had passed, the memories
still hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. Jeremy had all but guaranteed she’d forever
work alone. It was the only way to stay whole. Sane.

“Get ready to crash and burn, Stone,” she said, punching the
call button with more force than was entirely necessary, “‘cause you’re going
down, mister.”

But not on me
, a tiny, traitorous part of her brain
commented, and a bite of something that felt like regret sunk its teeth into
her stomach. Julia angrily shoved the thought away and pulled out her cell.
Time to start planning.

* * * * *

The ready room was quiet, soothing. Comfy leather armchairs
faced each other across a small glass coffee table. The lighting was dim and
relaxed. Too bad Julia was nothing but. For the fifth time in as many minutes,
she glanced up at the wall clock and gave an indelicate snort. Stone was late.
It was almost midnight, and he’d been expected to be here in the ready room
with her by eleven-thirty at the latest.

Figured. The guy was obviously an unprofessional jerk who
took nothing seriously. Even if his voice was like buttered honey, sliding
seductively and repeatedly through her mind at the most inopportune moments.
Frustrated, Julia crossed the room to peer into the floor-length mirror
attached to the back of the door. Damn, but she looked good. She’d primped and
been pampered in preparation for tonight. Everything waxable had been waxed,
and the nails on her fingers and toes sported a new shade of Peony pink. She’d
even spent extra time doing her makeup tonight, ensuring a flawless finish that
would make any cover girl envious.