Page 35 of Ever With Me

“You can call me Brooks, you know.”

“Can I?” Her eyes narrowed. “We never went through the formalities.”

Something roguish danced in his eyes. “I suppose we skipped to the part where I nearly saw you naked, I wrecked your store, you cut me with broken glass, blackmailed me, and then definitely saw me naked.”

“Don’t forget I tended to your wounds.”

He smirked. “We should sell our story to River House. They’d make a terrible bro-country song about it.”

Our story.Her diaphragm dropped. He had a way of disarming her that was unexpected. Just like the day before, when she should have been angrier at him. Yet he’d talked her into calling three people to cover his tracks, asking them to lie, then lied to her own family and concealed the evidence of his crash.

Come to think of it, how did he get me to do all that?

He seemed to sense the tension dissolving between them and stiffened. “Like I said, I can’t make any guarantees. Which means I can’t sign your contract.”

She shrugged and stood. “Fine. Then I’ll go to the press.”

His fingers curled around the neck of the bottle. “But then neither of us gets what we want, Madison.”

She stepped toward him. “At least if it’s public, I’ll have more of a guarantee that you’ll actually pay for the damages you inflicted on my business.”

“If it’s about trust, I should warn you that this stunt you’re pulling is doing the opposite of building trust between us.” Brooks set his bottle down on the coffee table and stood. He was several inches taller than her—had to be over six feet—and she had to raise her chin to look him in the eyes.

“Admit it, sweetheart, you need me. River House might suck, but you’re right—you’ve got no chance of booking a bigger band than them in a month. Not for some country fair in Appalachia. And maybe I’m not so dishonest that I won’t pay for the damages to your store, but I sure as hell can take my time doling that money out to you, given your bad behavior.”

“My bad behavior?” She spat a laugh out. “What are you going to do, put me in time-out? Give me a good spanking?”

Oh God, did I just say that out loud?

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, taking a step toward her.

That intense look in his eyes from the night before returned, and this time, it burned right through her chest. “Don’t throw your weight around with me, Brooks. I may not have many cards to play, but I will play that ace all day if I have to. Either you sign the contract or I walk.”

He edged closer still, using every inch of his body and posture to bear down on her, intimidating, raw . . .masculineenergy.

And dammit if her body didn’t seem to betray her when he was this close to her. Her panties were fucking wet.

Damn him.

He scanned her gaze, his gray eyes fierce in their scrutiny. “I’ll sign the contract under one condition.”

Her mouth grew dry as he focused his attention on her lips. “And what would that be?”

“Ten hours of your time this week, whenever I want, no questions asked.”

Huh?

Her brows drew together.

What on earth did he mean by that?

“What for?” She swallowed hard.

“I haven’t decided yet. Don’t worry, I won’t ask for anything illegal. But something about you intrigues me. Most women, hell, most people, are more afraid of me than you are. You’ve got guts. I might find a use for you. Deal?” He held out his hand.

She hesitated. “The fact that people are afraid of you doesn’t make me feel better.”

Ten hours to be at Brooks Kent’s beck and call for god-knows-what?

---