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He stood and walked to the counter where he leaned against the hard stone surface. I took him in from his dark hair to his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long strong legs that fit his perfectly worn jeans. Maybe not a rock god but Abel was definitely a god—a damn sexy one at that.
“Felix told me to meet the crew at the recording studio at eight.” I tucked my notebook into my purse. “Do you have any special requests?” I hung my purse from my shoulder and stood.
“You’re traveling on the buses?”
“That’s what I’m told.”
“Where will you sleep?”
I thought about what I told my father. “I’ll sandwich between the lead guitarist and the bass player.”
“Bullshit. Those two would eat you alive.”
Again, my cheeks heated. “Oh.”
“Oh, is right, and I’m not talking about the pleasurable kind of oral activities between consenting adults. They’d tear you to pieces.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“You better hope so. You’re going to be the only female traveling with a group of musicians and roadies.”
“How many buses do you have?”
“We travel heavy because I’m not good with sharing. I have a private bus. The band has a bus, and the roadies travel in rigs in advance to set up.”
I glanced over my shoulder as I walked out of the room. “I bet you share a lot while you’re on the road.” How many women had experienced Abel’s ability to share while he was on tour? My eyes drifted to the bulge in his pants that hung right. “A lot.”
I hurried to the entryway and stopped at the table. “What about all this stuff?” I pointed to the piles of mail.
“I haven’t had the time or the desire to go through it. I’m sure most of it is junk.”
I started to stack the envelopes in a pile. “How about I sort them and weed out the junk. I won’t open them, just sort them by what I can see.”
“I used to have an assistant.”
I gave him a curious look. “Got tired of your generous personality? Were you trying to share with her too?” I made three piles of mail, each about a foot tall.
“No, she had a baby.”
“Yours?”
“No. I don’t share with just anyone.” He dumped out the toothpaste and toothbrush from a grocery bag and stuffed it full of the envelopes. “Knock yourself out. You can open what you want. My life isn’t that interesting.” He held out the bag.
My fingers brushed against his as I took it. I swear his touch burned. It heated me all the way to my practical cotton underwear.
“Anything else you want me to do?”
He gave me a look that told me exactly what he wanted me to do, and it had nothing to do with going through his mail.
He let out a heavy sigh. “See you tomorrow, Gia.”
“That you will, Mr. Kincaid.”
He rushed forward and opened the door. His voice and breath neared my ear. “I'm Abel.”
I brushed past him. “I bet you are.”
I left with his laughter echoing behind me.
