She smiles politely and stands. We all stand with her. “The pleasure was ours,” Paul says.
Rand is the only one dim-witted enough to give her his card in front of me. “If you’re ever in L.A., give me a call. I’d love to show you around.”
I have to flex my fingers to keep from snatching the card out of his fingers and throwing it in his face.
“Thank you,” Violet says simply, nodding at the trio before she turns to ease away from the table.
I reach across the table to shake the hands of the Kick Records people. “Thanks for meeting with me. I’ll look forward to hearing from you tomorrow.”
Paul nods, as does Gene, who hasn’t said a word since introductions were made. Rand just gives me a tight smile, which makes me want to break the fingers that I’m still gripping in mine.
I grab my guitar and take off after Violet. I catch her just as the elevator doors are closing.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
At first she says nothing. She just taps her purse against her thigh. But after a few seconds, as though she can’t contain it anymore, she turns furious gray eyes on me.
“What was all that?”
“What was what?”
“All that posturing down there? Is that why you brought me? To have your own groupie?”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“All the special attention, all the sweet touching and singing to me like that. I’ve never felt more used.”
“I wasn’t using you, Violet.”
“Then what were you doing? You’ve never acted like that before.”
“I didn’t realize it would bother you.”
“It bothers me because you did it as part of your show.”
“Trust me. That had absolutely nothing to do with my show.”
“Of course it did! Why else would you act like that?”
Thoughts of the way Rand was looking at her, of the ways I know he was thinking of touching her, gets my anger fired back up again.
I turn toward Violet, stepping in closer, my face inches from hers.
“You wanna know why? I’ll tell you why. It had nothing to do with me putting on a show. It had everything to do with that slimy ass**le hitting on you. It was pissing me off.”
“What? Because some random guy was flirting with me? That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it? Is it ridiculous that I hated the way he talked to you? Is it ridiculous that it made me want to rip out his eyes out every time he looked at you? Is it ridiculous that I wanted to kill him when you smiled at him?”
Violet shrinks back, away from my anger. “Jet, I’m sure that was just part of the way he does business.”
“The hell it was! He wanted you, and it was eating me up inside. That is why I was touching you. I wanted him to know that you are mine.”
Violet’s voice is soft. “But I’m not yours.”
I take a few long, deep, ragged breaths. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be.”
THIRTY-THREE: Violet
His confession takes all of the winds of humiliation and indignation out of my sails.
“All of that because you were jealous?”
Jet sighs and hangs his head. “Yes. Damn it.” When he lifts it, there is nothing but miserable sincerity in his eyes. “It makes me furious to think of another man putting his hands on you. Of another man even thinking about putting his hands on you. And you might not have seen that he was doing more than flirting, but I sure as hell did.” He takes another deep breath and sighs again. “But I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
I want to reach out and touch him, to smooth the wrinkle from his brow. And, for the first time, I don’t stop myself. I just do what I feel like doing. What I need to do. And I touch Jet.
“There’s no reason to feel that way. I would never in a million years let him touch me, no matter how much he wanted to, or how rich and powerful he thinks he is.” One corner of Jet’s mouth tips up in an attempt at a grin. “But I love that you didn’t like it. No one has ever been jealous over me before.”
“That just shows me you’ve only known complete imbeciles. But I hope that works in my favor.” His smile is hopeful, which makes me giggle.
“It seems like it might be.”
“Does that mean you forgive me for acting like a Neanderthal?”
“Well, since you didn’t pee on me or club me over the head and drag me off to your cave, I think I can forgive you.”
Jet grabs my wrist and pulls my hand, which still cups his face, toward his mouth where he takes one finger between his teeth and bites down lightly. “Does that mean me dragging you off to my cave later is out of the question?”
The opening of the elevator doors alleviates some of the rising tension that has once again erupted between us. With a smile, I step away from Jet, backing out of the car.
“I thought we were supposed to be celebrating or something?”
“I can’t think of any better way to celebrate . . .”
With a light laugh, I walk across the hall to slide my key into the door. “You promised me New Orleans. Let me use the bathroom and then you can show me.”
A little tingle ripples through me at the suggestive sound of not only my ending statement, but the timbre of my voice. Even to my ears, it seems provocative. Hoarse. Sexy.
“I’d be happy to show you anything you’d like to learn.”
I give him a smile and rush off to the bathroom where I can collect myself enough to go back out there.
After I freshen my makeup, I nearly swallow my tongue when I step out to find Jet stretched out on his side on my bed. He ditched his jacket and loosened his tie, making him look like a delicious businessman who’s ready for a good time.
With me.
“Ready?” I ask, aware of the thick crackle of electricity in the air between us.
“Very.”
Jet slides off the bed and takes my hand. Neither of us says anything all the way down to the lobby. And it’s a good thing. The way he keeps looking at me and smiling has every nerve in my body on high alert, making it hard to focus on anything. Speech included.
With Jet’s warm body pressed against my side, we exit the hotel onto the lively streets of the French Quarter. We walk slowly, leisurely, Jet pointing out interesting places and trivia as we go. Every time he leans in to speak near my ear, chills shoot down my arm. And every time his eyes meet mine, I’m more and more convinced that he knows it.