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“Mmm, shame.” He cocked his head toward the door. “Then go ahead and buzz me in, Lady Gatekeeper. I wouldn’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“I have a feeling that’s not true at all.”
He laughed. “Touché.”
She hit the button under her desk to unlock the door, and Pike gave the counter two raps with his knuckles, like a warning that they weren’t done here, before disappearing into the hallway.
She sagged back in her chair and expelled a breath she’d been holding. Then as soon as she determined he was safely ensconced in her boss’s office, she opened up a search box on her computer, typing in Pike Ryland.
A page of results filled the screen in an instant, including a short line of thumbnail images. Pike Ryland, drummer of the hard rock band Darkfall.
Ha. She should’ve known. He had drummer written all over him—cut biceps, lanky frame, that I-own-the-world swagger. She had yet to meet a humble drummer. You had to be a big personality to make your presence known when you were stuck behind a drum kit and the rest of the band on stage.
Unable to resist, she clicked through a few of the images. Pike on stage. Pike shirtless, dripping with sweat, as he banged the drums. Good God. She shifted in her chair and clicked some more.
But the next few featured Pike with a rotation of supermodel-gorgeous women on his arm at parties and events. Ugh. That effectively cooled her jets.
She clicked on the Wikipedia entry. The page listed two albums and a gold single from a few years ago. She vaguely recognized one or two of their songs. Hard rock really wasn’t her musical poison of choice. But everything she read and saw in the photos confirmed why she’d gotten that bitter taste in her mouth when she’d figured out he was a musician.
They were all the same. And it only got worse when they had some success.
She closed out all of the windows and went back to her forms, vowing to not give Mr. Ryland another thought. If nothing else she’d learned a few things this afternoon.
Good news: Her libido was not dead after all.
Bad news: It still had destructive taste.
And like a recovering alcoholic, she knew to stay far, far away from that brand of temptation.
FOUR
“Local children’s theatre?” Pike settled back in the chair, focusing on Tessa and trying to ignore the raucous sound of children playing in the yard outside her window. He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. After his run-in with the hot, uptight receptionist, he’d almost managed to forget what he was walking into. Now it felt like the walls were closing in on him. “No offense, but you’re not going to make much money from that.”
Tessa frowned from behind her desk. “The guy we were supposed to be working with—the one who had to back out—was going to mentor the kids and polish them up musically. He said if we did a couple of shows, charged ticket fees, it could be good.”
“I don’t see that happening. The only p
eople who will want to see kids sing live are their parents.” Pike hooked his ankle over his knee. “And I know that most of the families you’re working with don’t really have the money to pay a high ticket price. It’ll be a waste of time.”
Hers. The kids. And most of all, his. Maybe he could get out of this after all. No use helping with a dead-on-arrival idea.
“You’d make a lot more holding a benefit concert again and having some local bands play. I could get the guys to do a show, and I could reach out to a few other bands in the area.”
Her frown stayed in place, and she tapped her fingernails on her desk, thoughtful. “We could do that, but I was hoping to do something where the kids are more involved this year. It’s their college funds at stake. I think it means more if they feel like they’ve had a hand in earning it.”
“Have them work the shows, sell tickets.”
A line appeared in her forehead. “These kids have talent, though.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m biased.” She gave him a what-can-ya-do smile. “But we’ve got some strong singers, a couple of guitar players, and a burgeoning drummer. Plus, the woman I have working with them is amazing. She’s helping them to write their own songs and has really invested her time with them. I want to see the kids share what they’re creating with the world.”
The earnestness in her voice was killing him. He didn’t know Tessa all that well. He’d only been around her when she was with her husband, Kade—and then it was usually at The Ranch where she was in submissive mode. But he could tell this wasn’t simply a job for her. Lord knows she didn’t need to work. Kade was a goddamned mogul. So this was all heart for her. And it was making him feel like a dick for wanting to get out of it.
He sighed, an idea coming to him that could be a perfect solution but a pain in the ass. “Having a performance at the children’s theatre isn’t sharing it with the world. Maybe you should think bigger.”
“Bigger?”
