What the fuck? Since when wasn’t he interested in a pair of good tits?

Since he met Kate.

“You’re so fucking hot!” she squealed. “I bet your cock is gorgeous…”

She reached for his fly, and he stepped back.

Shit!

Ramsey looked up from where a blond was sucking his dick. He was leaning back in a plush armchair with the chick kneeling between his spread thighs, but his attention was completely on Syon. The chick meant nothing to him but a moment of entertainment. That doubled the feeling twisting Syon’s insides.

He shook his head and turned to leave.

“Hold on, sweetie,” Ramsey said.

Ramsey caught him in the hallway, completely unabashed to be stuffing his erect cock back into his pants. “What’s up with you, bro?”

“Nothing,” Syon barked. “I’m just not in the mood.”

“You’re in the mood,” Ramsey argued. “So why the hell aren’t you between Kate’s thighs?”

Syon growled. “She’s making sure I know she’s a team member.”

“Yeah, and she had her hands all over you about an hour ago, so what’s the problem?” Ramsey demanded.

“Apparently I am!” Syon slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a hole in the drywall. He stared guiltily at the damage. “I’m a dumbass tonight, Rams. Forget I exist.”

“No fucking way.” Ramsey reached out and grabbed a handful of Syon’s shirt to keep him from stomping away. “Let me have Cid pack her ass out of here. We don’t need this kind of tension. We’ve got a ton of our assets tied up in this tour.”

“That’s why she has to stay. We can’t look like shitfaced amateurs.” Syon shook off Ramsey’s hold. “I checked her out. She does mind-blowing custom work. My pants don’t fit right because I couldn’t get worked up enough in front of the other guy.” He snorted and shot his buddy a hard look. “That won’t be a problem with Kate for sure.”

Ramsey gave a grudging nod. “Fine, get your ass back in that suite and fuck it out of your system. We’ve got plenty of pussy to go around. And tomorrow, Kate can be a team member. You can let her measure the boner she’s too prissy to ride.”

Syon looked at the door but shook his head. He wasn’t even sure he’d decided to decline the offer; there was only pure reaction, and it sent him away from the excess going on in the suite.

“I’m going to…write something,” he said.

Syon stormed down the hallway to his own room and shut the door behind him. His guitar was set up again in the corner of the suite, the sofa pushed aside to make room for his practice area. His cock was throbbing, and he was pissed as hell. Without a second thought, he turned up the amps and played out his frustrations, making the strings squeal and ping.

But when his anger settled into something deeper, he began to make notes and put them together into something that made his blood pulse.

Relationship?

He didn’t have to do relationships.

In fact, it was a whole lot brighter of him to avoid them. Success was a cruel little bitch in that she twisted everyone around him into leeches. No one came to him without a plan to get something out of him. His bandmates were the only exception.

He needed Kate to cover his ass; that was all.

He refused to let it be anything else.

* * *

She needed earplugs.

Syon was playing. Kate was sure of it. There was something about his rhythm that she recognized, even though she didn’t know the tune. Her memory offered a perfect recollection of what his fingers looked like when he was playing, and her clit throbbed in response.

When he finally stopped, her mouth went dry. Her body felt on edge even though there was no reason to think he’d come looking for her again.

Ha! You screwed that opportunity!

Actually, she wished she had screwed it, literally. Maybe she’d be getting some sleep if she had.

Yeah, but sunrise would have been a bitch to face.

She growled and punched her pillow.

Someone’s squeal pierced the hallway. “Come and get me!”

There were pounding footsteps and then a thud against the wall that shook her door. The girl laughed loudly as someone growled, and there was another rattle from her door.

“Oh yes! Fuck me!” the girl shouted, and the door began to shake in a very recognizable rhythm. “Harder… Harder!”

Was it Syon?

Would he be that big of a jerk?

You don’t have a right to be mad about it.

But she was.

“It’s so good! Ramsey!”

Kate buried her head beneath her pillow and screamed. She didn’t have the right to feel relieved either.

But she did.

* * *

Kate rubbed her eyes and waited for coffee to brew in her little kitchenette. The scent of java helped improve her mood as she marveled at Toxsin’s ability to party. The noise hadn’t died down until well after four.

She was going to have to do more sleeping on that tour bus.

You need to stop caring. He’s a rock star.

It was well after noon when she made her way to where her shop was set up. The Toxsin crew knew what they were doing. Her machines were assembled in an easily accessible fleet, every case opened so she could see into it. Even her cutting table was ready. Racks of costumes stood around the room, each with a band member’s name marked on it. The scent of leather was familiar, easing some of the tension from her neck.

At least this part of the deal she knew she could handle.

And do it really fucking well.

Someone rapped on the door, and she turned around to see one of the black-polo-shirted crew members standing there with one of those pigtail earphones stuck in his right ear.

“Do you need anything, Ms. Napier?”

“Well…” She scanned the room again. “Actually, I need to drape out the members of the band. Not all today, but if any of them have time…I’ll start there. Mr. Braden is a priority.”

He reached down to press the button on the little microphone clipped to his shirt collar and relayed her instructions.

She turned back around and started taking inventory.

“You’ve got one coming down,” polo-shirt guy said. “They have a sound check in an hour.”

“That’s plenty of time,” Kate assured him, biting back a question. She’d know soon enough who was going to come through the door.

She’d thought Syon was the one she couldn’t really deal with, but Ramsey stalked into the suite and sent her look that made her blood boil.

He was spoiling for a showdown.

The problem was, so was she.

Professionalism…

“Thank you for coming. I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”

No, not too much time at all, because the sooner her task was finished, the sooner she could stop holding her breath. She reached for a bolt of muslin and tore off two pieces to begin draping him so she would have a perfect pattern tailored to his specific measurements.

Ramsey grunted, and she caught the hint of a warning in his eyes. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it on the cutting table, presenting her with his bare chest. She ignored the urge to scan the perfection and started by pinning the fabric at his waist.

A half hour of total, awkward silence later, and Kate took the patterns off Ramsey.

“All done,” she said.

Ramsey gave her one last acerbic glare and turned to leave without another word. Her temper got the better of her as he was shrugging back into his jacket.

“Okay, explain your problem with me.” Kate pushed some hair that had worked its way free of her clip out of her face, and glared back at Ramsey.

“Don’t have a problem with you,” he blew her off and continued toward the door.

“Bullshit.” Kate tossed the mock-up over the back of her chair and stepped into his path. “I thought it was just me throwing off the all-boy vibe, but I’m dangerously close to thinking there’s more to it than that.” She stepped aside. “By all means, take off and prove you’re nothing but a prick who’s worried I’m going to somehow stand in the way of you scoring tonight.”