Page 49 of Naughty Dreams
When DJ did, Roy was standing at the foot of the bed, his heated eyes on DJ’s.
Not because he wanted to look away, but because he just couldn’t stand not confirming it, DJ noted on the desk clock that eleven minutes had passed.
Roy gave him a lingering look. “You’ve done well. In fifty-two seconds, you’ll transform back into my smart-mouthed, pain-in-the-ass client. Can you do that?”
DJ’s lips twitched. “Am I breathing?”
Roy smiled and put the rest of the coffee on the credenza so he could shrug into his coat. “I’ll be right outside your room, Mr. James. You’re doing a press thing with Moss at nine a.m. in a hotel conference room, then, per your usual, you’re going to the rehearsal space he rented for you until the tour bus leaves. Correct?”
“Unless we change our minds and decide to busk in the subway. If G knows how to juggle, that’ll increase our tips.”
Roy adjusted his cuffs and pinned DJ with his usual cool and unperturbed look. “It occurs to me this job comes with a perk I’ve never had before. When my client yanks my chain, I can beat his ass raw as soon as I’m off shift.”
“As long as he doesn’t safeword.”
Roy shrugged. “Hearing loss is common foroldguys like me. Plus I’ve been exposed to a lot of really loud music.”
He squeezed DJ’s bare foot, a tender affection. Since it didn’t dilute the threat at all, it left DJ aroused and moved. And contemplating a brand-new hobby.
Yanking Roy’s chain like a starving pit bull.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The press conference was a multi-interview thing in the hotel. It started with the full band, and then Steve, Tal and Pete were cut loose. They headed off to grab breakfast while Moss and DJ stayed pinned down for further meets with local news and entertainment outlets.
Roy had noticed DJ eyeing the trays of baked goods left by the hotel staff for the interviewers. Since he didn’t eat while handling those interviews, Roy had an inkling that his interest wasn’t for himself. DJ never seemed to get hungry.
When DJ was done, his theory was confirmed. Moss had several more one-on-one meets, and was chatting up an attractive brunette reporter. DJ rose and detoured to the table. As he piled muffins into an empty basket, Roy noted he seemed excessively quiet and unobtrusive about it, keeping his back to Moss, but Moss was sharp-eyed.
“Hey.” Moss stopped mid-sentence and tossed DJ a glare. “The hotel staff can provide you your own tray.”
“Your budget’s bigger than ours.” DJ decided being caught meant he could select another dozen.
“Leave me a blueberry one.”
“Of course. I know they’re your favorite.” Then DJ cupped a hand by his mouth, and tossed out an exaggerated whisper to the interviewer. “Take the blueberry one, Jana. He’s too much of a gentleman to fight you for it.”
She laughed, and when DJ grinned at her, she had to check her notes to find her next question.
“He has that effect on pretty much everyone,” Moss sighed, but pointed at Roy, standing expressionless by the door. “Except for him.”
Yeah. On the outside.
“Shoo,” Moss said severely, and DJ gave Jana one last parting wink.
When they arrived at the rented studio space, Lolly pulled him into the live room where the tech had been working her magic, DJ’s pedalboard hooked up to her laptop.
“I think I’ve got it.” She handed DJ his guitar. “Try that riff now. Found you a new preamp model that I think you’ll like. It’s less ch-ch-ch and more growly, like you wanted. And it sounds stellar with Tal’s new snare.”
She nodded to Dub, Tal’s drum tech, who sat with his kit. He waited until DJ tried it once before putting the drums in. DJ’s eyes lit with pleasure, and he gave them a thumbs up, confirming the techs had nailed it.
“Why do they even pay us?” Steve asked, coming in with Pete and Tal. The three bandmates had gone out to grab breakfast while waiting for DJ.
“We ask ourselves that every day,” Lolly said, deadpan. Dub twirled his sticks in agreement. Then he got up and offered them over his forearm like a courtier to a king. Tal, despite slouching in with his usual surly look and dark glasses, swiped them and gave him an affectionate shove.
“Because we’re prettier,” he said.
“Not right now you’re not,” Pete said. “Ooh, muffins. Steal them from Moss?”
