Rock My Christmas (FlameSmith in Love Book 1) (2 page)

“Alright then,” said Dan from the doorway. “We’re leaving soon to attend a promo party and play our new single. We’ll be gone all night.”

She followed him to the bedroom and rolled her carry-on to the foot of the bed. “Should I come? Or what should I do?”

“You want my advice?” His light brown eyes held a glint of curious humor as he flung his long hair over one shoulder.

“Please.”

He moved to leave but stopped at the threshold. “When my flat mate says something nasty, don’t take it personally. He hates women, so don’t plan to hang out with him. And he prefers dinner for breakfast. Especially pizza.”

“Good to know. Thanks.” Kendel’s heart sank. If her boss hated her simply because of her gender, how did she stand a chance? She eyed her laptop case and wondered if she ought to begin searching for another job. She could find a corporate position, but her last semester had left her burned out. Would she have a hard time finding another celebrity assistant’s job on such short notice? Especially so close to Christmas?

“Consider tomorrow your first day. Unpack. Make yourself at home. Here’s a key to the front door. I had one made for you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The bass player put the key on her dresser then closed the bedroom door on his way out.

She took a moment to glance at her luxurious room. Maybe she could give it a few days. Maybe if she kept her opinions to herself and aimed for invisibility, Burn would let her stay. Maybe.

Chapter Two

The smell of baked bread and roasted cheese woke Burn from a restless sleep. His head ached from the amount of tequila he’d absorbed the night before, but the slight hangover didn’t impede his hunger. Scrubbing both hands over his stiff face, he groaned. What time was it, anyway?

If Dan had ordered a pizza, Burn had slept the day away. A glance at the clock showed nine thirty. At night? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept an entire day through. Were they late leaving for their agency’s Christmas party?

“Damn.” He heaved from bed, raked fingers through his hair, and padded to the kitchen.

His roommate stood next to a blond in nothing more than underwear and an oversized T-shirt. Both ate omelets.

“Good morning,” said his new aide, her red hair entirely too bright in sunshine blazing through the window above the sink. She gave him a once over. “That’s a good look for you.”

Morning. No wonder he felt like he weighed three hundred kilos. He’d only had five hours of sleep. Trying not to notice how her gray V-neck revealed enough cleavage to make him curious, he narrowed his eyes against the streaming daylight. “I’m not eating that swill.”

“Of course you’re not.” She offered him a knowing smile, plucked a potholder from the counter, and removed a pan from the oven. “I didn’t know what you like on your pizza, so I made you plain cheese. I have ham and—”

“Is that from frozen?” His nostrils flared in dismay. No, this idiot wouldn’t last the day.

Her delicate eyebrows approached one another as her eyes darkened in stormy affront. “You think I would serve you frozen pizza? I’m neither that inexperienced nor am I a moron. You could show a little appreciation, Burn. I got up at six this morning to go shopping, which wasn’t easy without a car or an expense account. Then I made this pizza from scratch. It took the crust an hour to rise, in case you were curious.”

He blinked and straightened. “You made me a fresh pizza for breakfast?”

“I did.” She set the pan atop the stove then planted a pale hand on a jean-clad hip.

“Is it any good?”

Her eyes grew a fraction, then her dark demeanor transformed to amusement a second before she barked a laugh. “You decide. Try a piece.”

While she sliced a piece and placed it on a plate, he wondered how he’d missed her good looks the day before. She had a sweet face and a tight figure, though the top of her head didn’t reach his shoulder. He didn’t typically care for redheads, and thank goodness. This assistant improved by the moment, and he wouldn’t ruin her by taking her to bed.

He accepted the dish and admired her handiwork. It both looked and smelled delicious. Rubbing a hand across his chest, he realized he stood before her in only his boxer briefs. Too late now.

“Give it a go,” encouraged Dan who sent a nod to the pizza.

Burn sampled a bite. Heat scorched his tongue, so he breathed cool air into his mouth. When he chewed, his stomach actually leaped in delight. The crust had a crunch encasing chewy, wholesome bread. A tangy sauce complimented a combination of melted, baked cheeses. The woman could cook.

Taking another bite, he held out his plate so she could give him a second piece.

She grinned. “No words needed. That was compliment enough.”

Dan rested an arm on his blonde’s shoulders. “Kendel makes a tasty omelet, too.”

“Sod off.” Burn headed to his room as his friend’s laughter filled the kitchen.

Kendel. His assistant’s name was Kendel. For once, maybe Marty had done him right.

*    *    *

Eighty-six degrees in December had Kendel’s body begging for mercy. She wiped a sheen of perspiration from her hairline while she tried to keep pace with Marty as they speed-walked a circuit of shops along a bustling thoroughfare. A couple times she thought she caught sight of celebrities, but chuckled. Why would they come into this chaos when they could send an employee?

“Get a credit card from Burn next time you see him,” the Goth woman said over her shoulder then ducked into a shoe store. “Come on. This is a great cut-through to Rodeo Drive.”

She followed, weaving between customers and salespeople who hummed along to the Christmas carol playing quietly throughout the store, and emerged into sunshine on an immaculate sidewalk. People moved at a slower pace, and she definitely recognized famous faces.

Marty laughed and gave her a gentle shove. “Don’t go star-struck on me. You’ll get used to it. Just don’t ask for autographs, okay? They’re trying to live their lives, not turn their need for a Christmas present into a promotional appearance.”

“Gotcha.” She gave her shoulders a shake. “So how do we get to the condos from here?”

Dan’s assistant pointed. “Three blocks that way. Walking distance. Has he gotten you something to drive?”

“Not yet.”

Marty took Kendel’s phone and added herself to the phone contacts. “Jen had her own car and place. You’ll need something, but it’ll have to wait until we get back.”

“From where?” Her heart beat faster. Beverly Hills qualified as an adventure, but a trip in her first week would make Burn’s cantankerous disposition worth it.

“Seoul. Two days. Two concerts. Then we’re back for Christmas. What’s your email address? I’ll send you the schedule through April.”

In a daze, Kendel relayed her email as they headed across the roadway and toward the condominium complex. South Korea. This went beyond her wildest dream. “Wait. I don’t have a passport.”

Marty stopped short. “Damn it! It was a prerequisite.”

“I meant to order one, but I got buried in getting my thesis ready for presentation and then all the administrative nonsense required for graduation. Sorry. Maybe I should stay behind.”

“Like hell.” The woman glanced left and right, snapping impatient fingers. “It’s not noon yet. I think we can do this. Actors do this all the time. Come on.”

Kendel let Marty half-drag her at a run to a post office decorated on the outside like an enormous foil-wrapped gift. In less than an hour, her forms, photo, and express request were processed with a promise of overnight delivery first thing in the morning.

“That’s how it’s done. Be glad you didn’t have any security issues that would’ve called for a review.” Dan’s assistant grinned.

“I didn’t think the government did anything that fast.” She needed a shower. That final sprint had spent what remained of her underarm deodorant’s effectiveness.

“Are you hungry?” The woman’s blue eyes actually appeared kind for once.

“I am,” Kendel said, smiling. “But I should get back. I didn’t leave my number with Burn.”

“Whatever.” Marty offered a dismissive wave. “Don’t call me if you get lost. Use a GPS app.”

She shook her head and left the woman. Between Burn’s comment about frozen pizza and Marty practically telling her she’d get lost, she had to stifle an urge to growl. Maybe she had a lot to learn, but she wasn’t stupid. She had common sense. Plus, a kid couldn’t grow up with her father and not learn how to find the way around a new place.

She didn’t need her map app to find the condo. After retracing her steps from the post office to Rodeo Drive, she went the three blocks Marty had indicated. No problem.

Her security badge scanned her in at the front gate and again at the building’s main entrance. Offering a wave to the guards in the glass-fronted office as she passed, she continued to the elevator. She let air-conditioned coolness wash over her. When they returned from Korea, she’d have to buy some shorts.

Shorts at Christmas. Why did the idea seem so wrong?

She unlocked the front door, intending to go straight to her room, but the sight of Burn staring out a window and wearing only his boxer-briefs halted her. He looked exactly as he had at breakfast – deliciously sleepy, sexy, and incredibly hard-bodied. She had managed to hide her reaction this morning, but now she couldn’t force her belly’s flutter into submission.

Slamming the door, she frowned at him. “Don’t you ever wear clothes?”

He faced her, appearing more like a sad, lost boy than an angry man. Then his features hardened. “Where have you been? You work for me, and I expect you to be available when I need you.”

She pointed at him and strode three steps to join him in the living room. “You went back to bed. Look at you. I dare you to deny it. For your information, I needed to order my passport for this trip you failed to mention…unless you’d rather go to Korea without an assistant.”

So she didn’t tell the whole truth, but she needed this ire to keep her sexual awareness of him in check. He hated her. He employed her. Both excellent reasons to douse this stirring in her traitorous body. Then again, she took a chance he’d fire her for this open belligerence.

“Very well then.” He raked her with a bored gaze then gave her his telephone number. “Ring me so I have it next time. You’re going to Seoul if I have to smuggle you in with the equipment.”

Somewhat appeased, she said while she hit the auto-dial, “That won’t be necessary. FedEx is supposed to have my passport here before we leave.”

His phone buzzed once then stilled when she ended the call. Tense silence stretched between them as they glared at one another.

Finally, he blinked. “I need you to purchase Christmas gifts. One for my agent. I don’t care what you get. It’ll need to be wrapped for the party tonight. Then I need you to go to Mikimoto on Wilshire. I’ve chosen a gift for my mum, and they’re going to ship it, but I need you to actually look at it. Do you know quality jewelry?”

She shrugged, dismayed when her belly flutters returned with a vengeance. “I’m no expert, but I know what I like.”

“Diamonds?”

“Sure.”

“Good enough.”

Her breathing grew shallow as her need intensified. “Are we finished? May I go?”

He studied her a long second. “Fine. Dismissed.”

Kendel practically ran to her room. The man was an absolute prick. So why did she want him?

*    *    *

After nearly a full minute, Burn snapped out of his haze. What had his PA put in that pizza this morning? He’d never slept harder than after he’d eaten those two slices. Damn it, what was her name? He couldn’t very well call her ‘Hey, Redhead.’

He went to his room and drew a credit card out of his wallet. At her bedroom door, he cleared his throat. “Erm, hallo?”

No answer.

He made to knock, but when his knuckles connected to the door, it opened easily. Concerned, he glanced inside. She wasn’t there. He could’ve sworn she’d come here.

Then a moan sounded from the bathroom. Had she fallen?

“I’m coming,” he called and ran to her aid.

He raced through the bathroom’s open door. The sight of her, pale and perfect under cascading water, her head back and her hand between her thighs, hit him as if he’d slammed into a wall.

Kendel.

His mind conjured her name unbidden, unquestionable, and unforgettable. Kendel.

He needed to leave, but his body was too busy reacting to the vision in the shower to obey his command. “But I don’t care for redheads.”

She squealed and opened her eyes. Bloody hell. He’d said that aloud. Before she covered her most interesting parts with her arms, her beauty arrested his lungs.

Her slicked hair brought into prominence the sweet lines of her face. The generous swell of her breasts made her slender shoulders and waist appear more delicate yet. Her womanly hips left no question of her maturity, though her shapely limbs possessed a flawless, untouched quality. There was nothing innocent about the shape of her smooth thighs, calves, and narrow ankles, however. Despite her petite size, she was all woman.

This was nonsense. He’d had far prettier women. Well, taller, anyway. Blondes. Brunettes. Every hue of skin under the sun. So why did this tiny ginger wind him so tight?

“Get out!” she thundered.

“Right. Of course.” Yet he couldn’t tear his eyes from her.

“Get out!”

Good Lord, was he having a stroke? Why couldn’t he force his feet to retreat? “I can’t seem— I’m so sorry.”

Her face pinked and she visibly trembled. Brilliant. Now he could add terrorizing the help to his list of mounting crimes. When her eyes went liquid and her luscious bottom lip began to quiver, he somehow mustered the strength to back to the doorway.

He held up the charge card. “I’ll leave this on your dresser, shall I? Right then. Okay.”

As if in a dream, he moved through her bedroom, deposited the card next to her turquoise hair brush, and closed her door on his way out. He stood for a moment with his eyes closed. She’d undone in ten seconds what he’d spent the last eleven years building.

His cool.