Page 5 of Luck of the Draw

“That’s no excuse to take advantage of them.”

“I don’t draw a salary,” Brennan said patiently. “If you recall from our conversation just a few minutes ago, I pay him.”

Orson harrumphed. “Not after today.”

Brennan wiped the casual, pleasant look off his face before turning his head. “You said supporting Frenchmen Street Records is a fine thing to do. I’m not rescinding my financial agreement with them.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Orson shifted in his seat and adjusted his tie. “I have something else in mind.”

Brennan lifted an eyebrow. “Care to inform me what that might be?”

“After I inform yourboss,” Orson hissed, “he can inform you.”

Brennan clenched his jaw as he drew in a silent breath and stared out the window. He tugged at his collar, loosening his tie and unfastening an extra button at his neck. For early March, it was suddenly scorching.

“Dad, you’ll have to forgive me,” Brennan said, still even-keeled as they zipped along Elysian Fields, “but I thought your concern was with my spending at Harrah’s. I don’t understand why we need to go pester Mr. Hall during the workday.”

“My concern is with your spending at Harrah’s. Mr. Hall is going to assist with you curbing it.”

Before Brennan could ask what exactly he meant by that, Bishop pulled up to the curb in front of the nineteenth-century house that served as the record label’s office building. Orson shoved out of the car, and Brennan compliantly followed, lips pulled between his teeth and suppressing an irritated sigh.

Orson pushed the front door open and halted dead in his tracks, causing Brennan to slam right into him.

“Oh.” Orson cleared his throat and turned around. “Excuse me.”

Brennan glanced above his dad’s shoulder and saw Connor and Liza enjoying a littlenewlywed timeon one of the desks. Connor was leaning her backward, lips firmly planted on her neck and one hand sliding up her well-fitting skirt while she bit her bottom lip and mewled.

They immediately froze and looked at Brennan and Orson like a pair of deer in headlights.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Brennan immediately turned around as well, rubbing his eyes and focusingreally hardon how much of a pain in the ass his dad was being. After all, the mental picture that little faux pas left him with was the last fucking thing in the world he needed.

Brennan kept his back to them long enough for the pair to pull themselves together. Turning around again, he stepped around Orson and entered the house.

“Dad, this is Connor Deneau, Vice President of Frenchmen Street Records.” Brennan stood to one side and gestured with an open palm at Connor, who was shifting and tugging his jeans in an obvious attempt to conceal a hard-on. “And this is Liza Hardin-Deneau, the VP of Marketing.” Liza smoothed her hair and wiped her swollen lips while Brennan slipped his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet and attempting to avoid looking at her. “Mr. and Mrs. Deneau are newlyweds.”

Orson glanced over his shoulder before turning around and entering the house.

“Connor, Liza,” Brennan continued. “My father, Orson Riley the fourth.”

Orson shook Connor’s hand and then Liza’s. “Pleasure to meet you both. My apologies.” He cleared his throat. “And congratulations.”

“No apologies necessary,” Connor said. “We just don’t get a lot of visitors around here.”

Liza stepped in front of Connor. “What he means to say is we apologize for the inappropriate behavior you had to witness at our place of business.”

Connor grabbed her waist, giving her a tickle and causing her to jump. She swatted his hand, turning her head to say something quiet, yet severe in his ear. Connor coughed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Sorry,” he amended. “And thank you.”

“What can we do for you today, Mr. Riley?” Liza asked.

“Well, I was hoping to meet with Mr. Hall if he’s available.”

“Oh.” Liza’s brows drew into a V. “He’s actually out with one of our artists for the day.” She placed her hand on Connor’s shoulder and gave him a push. “I’m sure Connor can help you out, and then we can arrange to have Mr. Hall meet with you tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Sure, sure,” Orson said.

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