The Best Laid Plans (4 page)

“We’ll be taking a short break, but we’ll be back in a few minutes!”

Everyone cheered the lead singer’s announcement. Perfect.

She ran her hands through her hair. “Hold that thought, Amber.”

“Are you—”

“I’ve found someone perfect. High profile enough to be convincing even if he’s not sitting with us.” And also sexy enough to make this pleasant. And he was in demand – most of the women in the place were focused on the stage. Maybe some were looking at the other members of the band. Either way, it would be nice to prance in and walk away with him. She needed to get The Guy in the room to want her, go along with her plan, and also give her ego a boost. Especially after the mention of her sister, Charlene.

Jayne pushed the unpleasant memories away, and focused on the present. On the mouth watering guitar player. Amber could probably have any man in the bar wrapped around her finger in three seconds flat. If he said no, it would be so embarrassing.
But I’m living large now. If I wanted safe, I’d be at home in the tub.

Jayne stood and made her way over to the stage. Time to snag her man.

***

“Hey, great playing.”

“Thanks.” Malcolm fiddled with his guitar, trying to tamp down the huge grin that wanted to claim his face.
She
approached
him!
Was this really happening? Could it be this easy? If he played it right, played it cool, yes. He looked up at her, schooling his features into an, ‘Oh, you’re still here, but I guess that’s cool’ expression.

She squinted. “Have we met before?”

His heart stopped.

She snapped her fingers. “Yes! You did the music for my company’s party!”

He looked at her as if searching his memory, then shook his head. “I gig a lot. When was it?”

“Last week.”

“Ah, the brokers?”

She nodded.

“I think I might remember a sexy redhead being in the crowd.”

Her smile was a little too triumphant. As an attractive woman, she expected to be unforgettable. He’d have to tread lightly here.

“So I’ll just get right to the point.” She leaned closer. “My friend and I are being swarmed by douchebags.”

Malcolm dragged his gaze from her toes to her hair. “I can see why.”

She paused, clearly uncertain if that was a compliment or a burn. He winked at her, and she continued.

“So, I know you don’t really know me or anything, but—”

“You want me to pretend to be your possessive boyfriend?” He said it like he’d heard it before.

She sagged a bit with relief at his quick understanding. “Would you?”

“Why me?” He shifted his weight, leaning against the stage.

This time it was her gaze raking him from head to toe, lingering in certain places before returning to his eyes. “You’re the hottest guy in the place.”

“And?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the truth.

“And because you’re performing, you’re high profile. And because you’ll be busy, if you turn out to be a douchebag as well, I can escape while you’re on stage.”

He laughed. “Charming. But I appreciate the honesty.”

She tossed her hair. “I’ll even buy you a beer for your trouble.”

“So, what, I should come over on our next break and lay a kiss on you?”

“That would work. As long as you can make it look believable.” Her mouth grinned, her eyes challenged. He rose to the occasion.

He’d played the part of overprotective boyfriend before, but for friends only, banking on his presence alone, never actually kissing them. He set his guitar down and stepped closer, relishing the way her eyes widened when he brushed his fingers through her hair. He felt the goose bumps form on her upper arm as he gently moved his hand up to rest on her shoulder. Brushing his lips against her cheekbone, he heard her gasp when he breathed in her ear.

“Then get me a bottle of Heineken next break.”

***

Her perfume had made his mouth water, but he managed to not sweep her into a tight embrace and carry her back to his apartment like a caveman. Barely. He thought she’d somehow recognized him for a second there, but that was ridiculous. He looked like a completely different person now, someone that most women would think of as their type. Jayne hadn’t seen him since the tenth grade. He’d grown nine inches, added nearly sixty pounds of muscle, and had his teeth fixed since then.

Ten minutes until the next break.
Hold it together, Malcolm
. What was the best way to get her? They were a lot alike; insecurities were crushed beneath shiny new exteriors. But she’d had a mean streak in her, disguised as passiveness. How would a woman win him over? By being direct, but with style. Letting him know she was open to his advances, but letting him initiate things. The thrill for him wasn’t in the chase; it was in the having. But if he rushed through it and got her right away, she’d lose interest. He had to make her wild with wanting for his plan to work. He needed to be special to Jayne so it broke her when he broke up with her.

Her physical reactions to his closeness betrayed her attraction. Flushed skin, dilated pupils, the way she breathed.

But he needed it to be more than an amazing lay.

He played the shit out of the next few songs, liking the other women who tried to get his attention with their dancing in front of the stage. Their attention only made him seem more desirable.

But there was something he could do to raise the stakes.

“Phil.”

His lead singer looked at him.

“
Got You Where I Want You.
”

Phil nodded. Malcolm adjusted his mic and swallowed, as the first notes of the slower rock ballad filtered through the massive speakers. Cheering couples crowded the dance floor. Single women pressed closer to the stage.

His cover. His lead vocals. A total panty-dropper.

And he sang to Jayne.

She remembered hearing the song on the radio years back, but it had never been a personal favorite. Until now. The background vocals he’d sung before had done nothing to showcase his true vocal abilities. She heard nothing else and couldn’t tear her eyes from him. He went from open and vulnerable, to aching and raw, notes crashing from his guitar, spilling from his mouth like a gorgeous fountain of sound. He perched on his stool, bathed in the spotlight, bathed in the attention of every woman in the crowd.

And he sang to her. His eyes locked onto hers and she was completely pinned beneath the weight of her sudden desire. He’d been even better looking close up. Maybe it was his presence, maybe it was the insider information from the women in the bathroom. But Jayne had been surprised at how good-looking he was right up close. That he’d been matter-of-fact about being used as a boyfriend, rather than being cocky and arrogant, scored some definite points in his favor.

His deep melty eyes were a perfect mixture of rich brown and green, though that was remembered from their conversation; she couldn’t tell from here. His dark hair shone beneath the lights, his gaze never leaving hers. And then it was over, crowd cheering for him. Could she still breathe? She couldn’t remember drawing a single breath during his performance. He looked away, releasing her from the spell his music had wrapped her in.

Jayne realized there was another unwanted guy sitting beside her, who had been trying to get her attention for some time by jabbing her shoulder with his index finger. He chuckled and poked her a couple more times for good measure.

“Look who’s back.” He retracted his bony digit from her arm. “Hi. What’s a girl like you doing sitting all alone, baby?”

My panties and I are trying to have a moment with the guitar god on stage.
“I’m not alone.” Jayne looked to Amber, but her chair was empty and Jayne had no idea when she’d left. Probably macking at the bar while she’d been swallowed in the song. Damn it. Being a bitch was exhausting, but it was the quickest way to slay the drunken hydra. One inebriated asshole was chased away; another sprang up to take his place. Being a bitch didn’t stop the new ones from coming, but it did get rid of them quicker. Being polite never worked.

“No, you’re not alone.” His stale beer breath wafted over her. “I’m here now.”

“Sorry, but I’m really not interested.”

“Well, you don’t know me yet. Give me one night. I’ll change your mind.”

Jayne pinched the bridge of her nose. Why did guys think it was okay to do this? That was the one thing she missed about high school; being invisible. No one paid any attention to her, but she didn’t have to deal with this unwanted, invasive attention.

“Hey, babe.” The guitar player slid a warm hand across her lower back and moved her close without pulling her from her high stool. She cheered inside for his perfect timing.

“Hey.” Jayne paused, realizing she didn’t know her fake boyfriend’s name. But she didn’t have to fake the attraction she felt for him. He’d said he would lay a kiss on her for show. She swallowed. Would he go through with it, or back out thinking his presence was enough to chase the other guys away?

Questions flew out the window as he spun her around on the stool, edging forward so his hips spread her legs. He leaned closer and winked so only she could see it.
Cheeky ba—

His
lips.
He kissed her like she belonged to him, mouth demanding she respond in kind like they’d done it a thousand times before. His mouth said he knew she’d submit to him and her body vibrated with agreement, melding to his with complete abandon. Holy shit. She squeezed his hips with her knees.

He pulled back and broke the kiss before their tongues touched. She smoothed the front of her shirt and took a sip of her drink, trying to look like she wasn’t contemplating taking him to the bathroom to take the kiss further right the hell now. She had hoped he’d be a good kisser, but she hadn’t been expecting that. He’d certainly surprised her – something not many men did.

Maybe her fake boyfriend could turn into a real one-night stand.

***

My god he wanted to do bad things with her. But being trapped in the spotlight, he channeled all of his wanting, all of his raw emotion into the music.

She didn’t see the guy sit next to her when her friend left their table to go to the bar; too wrapped up in the song he sang her to notice. Great sign. The song ended, and Jayne looked away when the guy started poking her shoulder. Malcolm blinked, sure his eyes were playing tricks on him, but the guy really was poking Jayne’s shoulder. Amateur. Still, the loser’s timing couldn’t be more perfect; he’d only make Malcolm look better by comparison. If she’d been alone when he came to play the part of fake boyfriend, a possessive kiss wouldn’t be required. He’d still do it, but this way it would be more powerful.

Necessary, even.

He smiled, letting the guy annoy Jayne for a minute. Even bristling with annoyance she was beautiful. But whatever, it wasn’t like she had anything special. She was just Jayne.
Jane
in a prettier, sexier, more confident package. She put her face in her hand, and Malcolm knew she’d reached saturation point. She might walk away from the table in annoyance and his chance would be lost.

Striding over, he purposely ignored the other guy at the table, and the ones standing close by waiting for their chance. Not going to happen. He wasn’t going to blow this opportunity to lay the past to rest.

“Hey, babe.” He slid his hand across the bare skin of her lower back. Her skin felt so soft and warm. Silky in that way only women could be. Must be something in their DNA. Without meaning to, he moved closer, tightening his grip around her. He hoped she didn’t back out of the kiss.

“Hey.” Her eyes filled with relief … and then her pupils dilated.

Turning her chair, he stepped forward, parting her thighs with his hips, claiming her space. He wanted to take her to a dark corner, and make her scream her pleasure from the shadows. He yearned to—
Ease up, Malcolm!
With his heart slamming in his chest beneath the effort to keep it playful, he leaned closer and winked.

She inhaled, fire entering her eyes.

Her lips could have been coated with poison and he’d still have surged forward to taste them.

Christ, her mouth burned his control away as if the last ten years had never happened. He was the little band geek again, only now he was trapped in the sculpted body of an athlete, kissing the girl who used to make him stutter when he thought about her too closely. And she arched against his hand, kissing him back.

He slipped. He gave in to the curious, needy part of him that wanted her to want
him
, and held nothing back. Her scent wrapped around him, ensnaring his body like an invisible restraint. She tasted like strawberries and vindication and he never wanted to let her go.

Her knees squeezing his hips brought him somewhat back to himself. Firmly in the present. He pulled back, letting the things she didn’t remember doing to him fill the space between them as a necessary buffer. He’d never win if he gave in to the lust and forgot himself – and what she had done. He had to keep his eyes on the goal.