Fyre & Revenge (3 page)

She cut him off
with a derisive snort. “Not blackmail huh? Sorry buddy, but from
where I’m standing it looks an awful
lot
like
blackmail.”

His face was
like granite, his eyes unreadable.

“Not at all,”
he said lightly, walking around the desk and toward her. A loose
limbed stride that reminded her of a big cat, poised and ready to
strike.

“Blackmail
implies I haven’t given you a choice.” He didn’t stop until he was
barely a pace away. So close she could feel his body heat burning
through her clothes. She looked up, refusing to back down at the
subtle intimidation.

“But I haven’t
done that, have I Zette?” He captured her with his gaze, the direct
look in his eyes mesmerising her. “All I’ve done is told you what
it’ll take to get me to…disappear those problems. You don’t have to
take that offer, now do you? You can just walk away…”

She swallowed,
her eyes flicking from one of his to the other. Studying the
expression on his face and trying to work out what he was playing
at. From arriving with so much confidence the situation had rapidly
degenerated. She was out of her depth here.
Way
out of her
depth.

“You used to
find me attractive,” he murmured, his voice weaving its own spell
around her, aided and abetted by the scent of his skin-warmed
aftershave. “…used to watch me from behind those books of
yours.”

He smiled as
she stiffened, instantly cursing as she gave herself away. “Didn’t
think I realised? Oh, I realised all right.”

Zette snorted
and retreated a step to slide past him. She headed to the window,
looking out to admire the view. Not that she gave it more than a
passing glance, staring out into the distance. She just needed that
physical distance from his overwhelming presence. Before she did
something stupid.

“I was a kid.
That’s the thing about childhood crushes—you grow out of them.”

“Prove it.” His
voice was a silky demand behind her. Like a lake that looked smooth
and inviting on the surface but with dangerous undercurrents. From
experience Zette didn’t trust his mild tone one little bit.

“What?” she
asked over her shoulder, not turning just yet. Not daring to until
she’d worked out what the hell was going on. And how she was going
to get out of this mess with the result she’d come here to get.

“Prove it,” he
repeated, his voice closer as he moved up behind her, his breath
fanning over the delicate skin of her neck. “Prove you’re over
it…over me. Kiss me.”

A nervous laugh
escaped her. “Don’t be ridiculous! I don’t have to do anything of
the sort!” The
last
thing she wanted to do was kiss JJ.
She knew all it would take was one touch, and the whole charade was
going to tumble down and leave her defenceless. Defenceless and
exposed to his scorn as she had been all those years ago.

“You can’t, can
you?” he taunted softly from behind her.

He didn’t move
or touch her. She wasn’t expecting him to. This game was pure JJ,
an exercise in control before he got what he wanted. He’d refined
it a little in the years since she’d last seen him but it was still
the same basic formula, driven by sheer ruthlessness.

A ruthlessness
that made her shiver from the top of her head right down to her
toes in the expensive leather pumps she wore.

“I’ll make you
a deal. Prove you can kiss me and not feel anything…
if
you
can, I’ll let you have the Swithland site for your concert,” he
promised, his voice pure temptation. “Hell, I’ll even pledge my
time to help you organise it!”

Zette stood
motionless, biting back the retort that sprang to her tongue.
Pledges didn’t usually depend on getting something in return. She
kept silent, turning the offer over in her mind, examining it from
all angles and looking for the trap. There had to be one, this was
JJ after all, and there was no way he would cave this early. He was
up to something, something she couldn’t see yet.

She nibbled her
lower lip. It was tempting, so very tempting. Could she do it?
Could she kiss him and not give herself away? If she could, and got
him onside with the concert then…much as she hated to admit it,
then
Midsummer
Night
Dreams
had a much
better chance of success.

Finally she
nodded, ignoring the small niggle of alarm in the back of her mind.
She ignored it, locking it away. She could do this. It was just a
kiss, surely she could keep a grip on herself for one kiss? Think
of something harmless, kittens or cute puppies or something. A
quick lip-lock and she’d have her venue and backup to boot! It was
too good a chance to pass up…

Decision made,
she turned with a casual shrug and a smile. “Put like that, sure.
It’ll be the easiest bet I’ve ever won,” she said carelessly, as
though she did this sort of thing every day of the week.

She turned her
face up for the kiss, eyes half lidded as she waited for him to
make his move. Anticipation shivered through her as she thought of
his lips on hers again. No!
Think
of
the
puppies
…
shopping
for
shoes
…
expenses
forms
… But he didn’t
move, just looked down at her, his arms crossed over his broad
chest and his face implacable.

She opened her
eyes, sighed and looked at him curiously. “Okay, what’s wrong? I
thought you wanted to kiss me?”

He shook his
head, a glimmer of amusement and something else, something hotter
and darker, flickered in the depths. “No Zette. I want you to kiss
me
. Not the other way around,” he rumbled, his low voice
uncompromising.

She gritted her
teeth, annoyed at him for the power games and herself for
responding to them. A thrill of awareness shot through her at his
attitude, irritating her even more. Surely she couldn’t be getting
turned on by his high-handed manner, by being bossed around? It was
demeaning!

But he had the
balance just right. He wasn’t looming over her, not physically
intimidating her even though at over six foot to her mere five
three, he easily could have. No, he just stood there. His light
eyes watching her and waiting. Waiting for her to make the choice
and come to him.

Just a kiss she
reminded herself, moving toward him. Drawn toward him as though
he’d cast a spell over her. Which in a way he had, but years ago
when she was eighteen, rather than today. Standing on her tip-toes
she reached up and just brushed her lips over his, the quickest
touch she could manage and have it still class as a kiss. Even that
was too much, a quickly-hidden shiver going through her at the
brief touch of those warm, firm lips against hers.

She’d done
it!

Triumph filled
her as she stepped back and looked up at him. She’d managed it.
Actually kissed him without making a fool of herself or something
else disastrous, like maybe the sky falling in.

He was shaking
his head, his hands lifting to curl around her upper arms, burning
through the thin layers of her clothing to brand her skin, each
strong finger leaving its own tingling mark.

“What? What was
wrong with that?” she protested, her voice rising in panic as he
pulled her slowly closer. “I kissed you, like you said. What more
do you want?”

“Sweetheart,
that was not a kiss.
This
is a kiss.”

His lips
descended to cover hers, scattering Zette’s instinctive argument
like the wind clearing autumn leaves. His lips moulded to hers,
tasting her with a thoroughness that took her breath away. His
tongue brushed out, along the seam of her full lips, demanding
entrance. He wasn’t cruel, he didn’t need to be to get what he
wanted. Zette opened for him on automatic, moaning as he deepened
the kiss, his tongue sweeping in to ruthlessly explore the silken
recesses of her mouth. By the time he lifted his head, triumph and
satisfaction in his eyes, Zette’s breathing was ragged, her fingers
creasing his shirt as she held him to her.

“Now
that
was a kiss.”

* * *

Three days
later JJ’s knowing chuckle was still echoing in Zette’s ears. She’d
fled the office and his arms in a panic, of all the damn childish
and juvenile things to do. She’d even left her bloody file behind,
destroying what little credibility she’d had left after that kiss
had trashed her woman-of-the-world act.

She groaned and
slumped back in her seat, eyeing the alternative proposals and
projections spread over the desk in front of her. The change of
site would mean more costs, most of which she could absorb herself
and she’d need to get the literature reprinted… It was no good, she
realised. There was still the question of numbers. Simply put,
nowhere else was big enough.

She sighed and
ran a hand through her hair. It had started the morning in an
artfully messy pleat on the back of her head, now it was just
messy, the style ruined by Zette’s increasing frustration and her
habit of running her hand through it when she was.

Unbidden her
eyes were drawn to her leather file, the one she’d left behind in
her flight. He’d returned it the next morning by courier with a
note attached in his bold scrawl. She pulled it toward her to
re-read it.

You
need
Swithland
.
My
offer
still
stands
—
your
call
.
You
know
where
to
find
me
,
JJ
.

She sighed
again, realising she had little choice, and reached for the phone.
“Marie, put a call through to Anders Entertainment for me
please.”

* * *

She was
beautiful. Even edgy and uncomfortable as she was, sitting opposite
him in a quiet corner of the exclusive restaurant he’d booked, she
still had the quiet presence. An edge that had men’s eyes following
her whenever she passed.

A fact he’d
discovered firsthand when she’d returned from the ladies. Nearly
all the male eyes in the room had given her a once-over, several
continuing to watch her after she’d sat down. Those JJ had warned
off with a hard look. There was just something about the petite and
curvaceous singer that made everything that was male in a guy sit
up and take notice; even if his mind rebelled at granting any
woman, much less this one, that much power.

He glared at
the most persistent, a tall blond guy with the gym-sculpted muscles
of a gym bunny and the calculating look of a model. No doubt
working out a way to approach Zette. After all, being seen and
photographed with the award-winning star couldn’t do anyone’s
career any harm.

Unlike JJ’s
fists, which were going to be doing serious damage to the guy’s
face if he didn’t get the hint soon. Zette was his, end of story,
even if she didn’t know it yet, and he’d take on all challengers
with pleasure.

His cell rang,
cutting off his murderous thoughts with a discreet chirp, the phone
vibrating in his jacket pocket. “Excuse me a moment.” He squashed
the brief stab of irritation at her relieved look, and retrieved
his phone. He checked the number and flipped it open.

“Logan.” He
didn’t bother with the usual pleasantries. Not that the guy on the
other end, Logan Fyre, his lawyer and friend since college, would
have expected it. The two had known each other for far too
long.

“I’ve checked
and rechecked your grandfather’s will,” Logan said without
preamble, cutting right to the chase in his usual manner. A
directness the two men shared.

“Okay, and did
you come up with anything?” JJ leaned back in his chair slightly,
phone against his ear as the fingers of his other hand turned the
stem of his glass. His eyes remained locked on Zette, studying
her.

“That’s just
the thing, no. The old boy made sure the damn thing was watertight.
There’s nothing for it mate, you’re going to have to bite the
bullet and get married,” the lawyer said, his frustration evident
in his tone.

JJ smiled, the
smallest quirk of his lips. He’d expected this, knew Charles Jensen
Sr. wasn’t going to let little things like his own death stop him
from having a say in his grandson’s life. JJ’s life.

“I suspected as
much but thanks for checking it out.”

“No worries
mate, you know I’ve always got your back…” There was a pause on the
line, nearly enough to make JJ think he’d lost the signal, then
Logan spoke again. “You do realise you’ve only got like…twelve
weeks to find a woman dumb enough to marry you, don’t you?”

JJ laughed, the
rich deep sound rolling around the small alcove in the restaurant,
making nearby diners and Zette look his way with interest.

“Dumb? Thanks
mate, love you too,” he threw back, his amusement broadening his
grin, a rarely seen expression. He looked at Zette and a fresh
surge of anticipation rolled through him. “Seriously, don’t worry.
I’ve got it covered.”

His amusement
seemed infectious, JJ could practically hear the smile on Logan’s
lips. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

JJ smirked,
holding Zette’s gaze as he lifted his glass to his lips and took a
swallow. God he wanted her, that glorious hair spread over his
pillow as she lay naked under him, those curves open to his
exploration. She flushed at his look, as though she could read the
erotic thoughts playing through his mind, and turned away to answer
the waiter at her elbow, ordering coffee.

There was a
telling silence on the other end of the phone. JJ knew without
asking that Logan was listening to the sounds of the restaurant,
the distinctive tones of Zette’s voice, and adding it all up.

“Tell me that
isn’t who I think it is?”

“Well, that
would depend on who you think it is,” JJ said, careful with his
replies, keeping them generic. He didn’t need Zette working out the
content of this conversation, that would give too much of his plan
away.