"Shh!" I hissed, holding my finger to my lips. I dared to lean closer to that savagely beautiful face and whispered harshly, "I had no idea who you were at the time. Don’t tell anyone that happened. I could be fired if my company finds out."
His devilish smile spread provocatively. "Of course not. We’ll keep it just between us."
I took a deep, calming breath. The way he used the word "us" didn’t sit well with me at all, and I realized that I’d probably need more than breathing techniques to get my heart rate fully back down to normal.
"We might’ve had an . . . unusual introduction, Jax. But from here on out, our relationship’s going to be strictly professional. That means no kissing. No flashing your c**k at me. None of that. Capisce?" I said, jabbing my finger into the air for emphasis.
I needed to be forceful with him from the start. I needed to establish distance between us and professional boundaries we wouldn’t cross. Otherwise, I could easily see myself being in more trouble than I could handle.
He gently took my unsteady hand and clasped it between his warm palms. "Everything you’re saying is exactly what I want to hear," he said evenly.
I blinked a few times. Did he just agree with me? I’d mentally prepared a few more responses in case he didn’t get the message, but he seemed strangely agreeable. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," he said, lifting my chin gently so I looked directly into his eyes. "I like a challenge."
Minutes later, I was seated on the edge of the couch, pinching the bridge of my nose, exasperated.
I’d tried talking sense into Jax after he’d made his intentions clear, but it was like talking to a wall. He’d got up, put the medical kit away, and said he was going to have someone give me a tour of the bus while he cleaned up. Then he disappeared upstairs.
Unbelievable. As if almost getting killed a few minutes ago wasn’t bad enough. Now the rock god who I’d given blue balls to was my company’s client—essentially my boss in some ways—and he was determined to finish what he’d started that night backstage. The situation was even worse than I’d imagined.
I could try talking to him again, I thought. But given the track record between us so far, I’d probably sooner convince a pig to fly than convince Jax to find a different "challenge" elsewhere. Feeling awful about the whole situation, I decided cleaning myself up might help calm my nerves.
Searching the first floor, I found my luggage in a small storage area, pulled out a spare skirt and tank top, and went to the bathroom to put them on. Because I was still covered in muddy water, I did a quick rinse of my hair and makeup. And then I reached into my purse for a badly needed lifesaver and ate it. When I finally came out, I was surprised to find a girl waiting for me.
"Hello! I’m Sky," she said with a light, lilting voice. Her figure was slim, and she was wearing black yoga pants with a matching tank top. Her tightly braided bleach blonde hair made her look like she had walked out of a punk video, but her huge, fawn-brown eyes softened the effect. "I heard you’re our new accountant. And that you saved Jax!"
I’d been expecting Chewie to give me a tour since I’d met him earlier, or at least a guy, but I didn’t realize there was a girl in the band. There were a lot of things I didn’t realize because I had been so focused on Jax that night at the bar. Otherwise I would’ve recognized Chewie the moment I met him.
"Hi, I’m Riley," I said. I smiled and extended my hand. "He was exaggerating about the life-saving part. It was just a bit of pepper spray."
She chuckled and shook her head. "Just a typical day in the life of Jax Trenton. Women and men alike love him. But the men that have girlfriends hate him. You get used to it over time."
She made it sound like this was a regular thing for him. I grimaced. "Seems like his good looks are a curse."
"Blessing and a curse, I guess." She shrugged. "Wait a second," she said, squinting. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
An awful thought occurred to me. Did she remember me as the girl Jax picked out from the crowd at the bar? I laughed uneasily. "Probably not. I think I just have one of those faces."
"Hmm . . . I feel like we went to school together or something. Did you go to the Anderson School?"
I shook my head. "No, never." I’d heard of the school before—it was up on the Upper West Side, which was culturally and socially about a million miles from where I grew up on Staten Island.
Sky shrugged. "Ah, okay, my bad. I’m not so good with remembering people and I’ve seen so many faces from doing shows that it’s almost always like: wait, haven’t we met before?" She laughed and I did as well. "So how much of the bus have you gotten a chance to see?"
I gestured to indicate the living area we were in. There was basically the kitchen, bar, bathroom, couch, and a small storage area for luggage. "This, mostly. Stud—I mean, Jax—didn’t get a chance to show me anything upstairs."
One of her high-arched eyebrows rose when I called Jax, "Stud", but she didn’t say anything about it. "We’ll start from the top, then," she said, taking my hand and leading me to the staircase. "So if you’re a tour accountant, I’m guessing you enjoy music. Do play anything?"
My cheeks warmed slightly. I was on a bus full of musical talent, but the truth was, I had almost none. "I mostly play Angry Birds," I said with a laugh. "I like listening to music but every time I’ve tried my hands at playing an instrument, it sounded like a dying cat."
Sky chuckled as we took the stairs. Once we arrived at the top, she opened the door onto a large sundeck. Half-walls made the space open to the air, and I could hear the cars on the highway below us. A table and two chairs stood next to a bar—bigger and better than the one on the first floor—toward the front, and a larger, round table was at the back.
"This is incredible," I said, looking around in awe.
"You haven’t seen the best part of the sundeck. This bus has the only one like it." With that, she stepped to the far side of the deck, and pulled the top off the table. When I saw what it really was—a hot tub easily big enough for four people—my jaw dropped in surprise.
"Are you kidding? A hot tub on a bus?" My mental calculator shifted into overdrive. It wasn’t just the installation of the tub that I found extravagant. It was the chemicals, the electricity, the plumbing . . . It would be expensive to maintain even while operating perfectly. And if it broke . . .