Everything to Me by Simona Taylor

Author:Simona Taylor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Excitement hung like a blanket over Immortelle Park, in an almost tangible mist of anticipation and activity. This time, even though the street in front was thronging with cars, Trent’s pass got them waved through without a problem. As the gates to the main parking area opened to them, Dakota craned her neck, searching outside the windows for the group of boys from yesterday. Nothing. Maybe their security guard nemesis had succeeded in chasing them away. Maybe they’d found something else to do. She felt an unanticipated pang of disappointment.

He noticed her glance in the direction where they’d first seen them standing, and said sympathetically, “Maybe they found something else to do today.”

By now, she’d learned not to be surprised when he spoke her thoughts. The ability seemed to come naturally to him. Once parked, he came around and helped her out, and as she stood beside him while he locked the door, she wondered how fast the casual, languorous warmth between them would dissipate. Since their kiss in the car, he’d kept his hand lightly on her knee, a signal of future intent, a declaration that he planned on keeping his promise to return to her bed before they left Tobago.

But they were on the battleground now. She was the huntress, searching for a good story, or any story that her readers would crave. He was the protector, arming himself and his clients against intrusion and the prying eyes of the scandal-hungry public. This is what it all boiled down to: his job was to protect his turf, and hers was to encroach upon it. Would their sexual afterglow survive that cold, harsh reality?

The warm, relaxed lines of his face settled into something sterner, and she had her answer. Her thoughts were his. When he touched her again, it was gracious rather than intimate. He offered her his arm as they crossed the grassy expanse between the parking lot and the concert tents. Gingerly, she took it.

The dress rehearsal was about to get started, but instead of heading to the main area, he led her backstage, where a guard closely examined their passes before letting them through. On the other side, Trent stopped.

“Full schedule?” he asked.

“Pretty much.” She was cautious, noncommittal, but softened her reluctance with a smile.

“Got time to squeeze in a few more interviews?” When her mouth formed a puzzled O, he fished in his pocket and withdrew another of his business cards.

“You already—” she began.

“Got a pen?”

She passed it over, and he scribbled some numbers on the back, then handed her both card and pen. “What’s this?” she asked, puzzled.

“Private numbers for Mango Mojo and Ryan Balthazar. Call them and see if they can slot you in today.” Then, he added, as if it needed clarification, “For an interview.”

He was setting her up with two of his top acts? How? Why? “But you’ve banned them from talking to me.”

“I never banned anyone. I told you.”

“They’ve certainly never been down for an interview with me before,” she persisted.

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