Over Exposed (20 page)

His phone vibrated and he grabbed it before it stopped, only to find a text from Trudeau.

Extra camera on the way. Will talk to fire marshal tomorrow. Have given all guards updated photos of your family. They won't get delayed at checkpoint again. Will have editing computer set up by tomorrow afternoon. Will make sure Dale gets what he needs. Another boom mic already ordered. Will be at set by 6. Get some sleep. Long day tomorrow.

Shaking his head as he smiled, he stopped by the door to the atrium to text her back.

What the hell are you still doing up? Go to bed. And don't bother to be on set before 10. I've got to deal with Neal so I won't be there until at least 11.

He hoped.

I've got things I need to do so I'll be there by 6.

The girl was getting to be as bad a workaholic as he was.

And why the hell hadn't Sabrina texted him back?

Goddamn it, he wanted her to be awake. Now he felt cranky as shit.

His gaze flicked toward the desk, knowing she wasn't going to be there.

And he was right. The brunette behind the desk was taller, slimmer, and older. He seemed to remember her name was Laney. As she caught sight of him, she smiled but it faltered in seconds. Probably because he looked like he wanted to tear someone's head off.

Taking a deep breath, he forced back the frustration and nodded to acknowledge her. Then headed for the bar. He'd scheduled two days of rehearsals for Sunday and Monday before filming started Tuesday. His crew had arrived, most of the equipment was accounted for, and the set was dressed. He'd already scouted the outdoor locations and knew they were ready to go.

Jesus, he hoped Neal wasn't going to take down the entire production. The rest of his principal cast had arrived today and he'd managed to greet each one before the shit with Neal had gone down. He'd worked with nearly all of them before and he considered them friends as well as colleagues.

He'd almost reached the bar when he realized alcohol and his mood probably weren't a good mix. Maybe he should think about a workout instead—

His phone vibrated and he whipped it out of his pocket.

Yes. I'm in the music room behind the atrium. Come join us.

He grinned, feeling like he'd won a bidding war at Sundance. Then two thoughts crossed his mind.

Where the hell was the music room?

And who was “us”?

Turning, he headed for the desk.

Laney gave him another bright smile, as perky as if it was nine in the morning. “Hello, Mr. Hicks. What can I do for you tonight?”

“I'm looking for the music room.”

“Of course. Just follow the path through the atrium. Past the fountain on the far side, the path will split. Take the right branch and that will take you straight to the music room. You'll need your key to open the door.”

After a short thank you, he headed for the atrium, pushing through into Tyler's playground.

Where Jared had sunk so much of his creative energy into the Salon, Tyler had channeled his into the atrium.

But Greg barely gave the indoor garden a second look tonight as he followed the directions. It didn't take him long to find the door and, when he did, he realized Tyler had carefully concealed it.

He heard nothing coming from inside but, knowing Tyler, the room was probably completely soundproofed.

Slipping his card in the slot, he cracked the door then paused as piano music spilled out.

Whoever was at the keys had a gift. Was it Tyler? That would make sense.

Pushing the door open until he could see into the room, he found the baby grand right away.

But that wasn't Tyler.

The man hunched over the piano had his back to the door, completely oblivious to Greg's arrival. As was Sabrina, who stood at the side of the piano, her attention focused solely on the player.

Greg wanted to close the distance between them, grab her, and head back to his room. But he knew he'd be acting like a caveman and he didn't want to embarrass her.

There were so many other things he wanted to do to this girl, whose ass looked amazing in a prim blue skirt that fell just above her knees.

She had her hair in a braid tonight and it lay against the back of her white blouse like a gold rope twisted with pale bronze.

The door closed behind him without a sound as he stepped into the room, but Sabrina turned. And the smile that lit up her face made him feel like he could roar.

A second later, the music stopped as the player took his hands off the keys and turned.

Sebastian Valenti stared at him with the look of a guy who wasn't happy to have the competition.

Tough shit. Sabrina was Greg's. The sooner Sebastian realized that, the sooner he wouldn't wind up with a fist in his face.

“Greg.” She looked like she wanted to say more but wasn't sure what. “Hi. I'd like you to meet Sebastian Valenti.”

“Sabrina.” He didn't bother to hide the heat in his eyes. He was staking a claim and, while she might not realize what he was doing, Sebastian would.

The younger man's eyes narrowed as Greg nodded at him then held out his hand as he came closer.

“Sebastian. Nice to meet you. I'm Greg Hicks.”

Sebastian stood, taking Greg's hand and meeting his gaze. “The producer?”

“Yeah, though right now I'm wearing my director's hat.”

Sebastian's eyes widened and his expression lightened. “Seriously? You're making another film? Is it a sequel to
The Virgin and the Terror
? Man, I wore out that DVD when I was a teenager. Loved that film.”

Greg smiled, some of his immediate animosity leaking away. “Thanks but no, sorry. Not a sequel.”

“Too bad.” Sebastian sat back at the piano. “That film was epic.”

“And I never get tired of hearing people say that, so I appreciate it. But not everyone thinks that way.” Greg pointedly looked at Sabrina, who shook her head, her smile turning rueful.

“I never said I didn't like it. I think it's really, um, creative. It just isn't . . . my style.”

Sebastian and Greg both laughed.

“And if that isn't damned by faint praise,” Greg said, “I don't know what is.”

As Sabrina smiled up at him, Greg felt his shoulders unkink, along with the muscles in his back and his arms.

He wanted to put his arm around her shoulders, draw her into his side, and kiss her. And he didn't want to have to worry about who saw them.

But he didn't know Sebastian other than by reputation. And that was of a hard-partying rock star. Greg also knew reputations weren't always true.

Still, he didn't want to make Sabrina uncomfortable, so he stood next to her at the piano, leaving a couple of inches between them.

“Gotta say, I'm a fan of your music, Sebastian. The last album was amazing.”

Sebastian nodded but his smile fled. “Thanks. I think it was our best yet.”

“How many albums has your group released?” Sabrina asked, her genuine interest showing through.

“Five. One independent and four through our label.”

“Are you working on music for the next one?”

Sabrina's innocent-sounding question had a scowl forming on Sebastian's face.

“Yeah. Maybe. Not sure yet. The band's kind of on hiatus. Don't know for how long.”

Now that was interesting. Greg didn't follow much of the music industry but he read enough music blogs to keep up with the bands he liked. And he liked Baseline Sins.

“Caught your show at Club Nokia last year,” he said. “Great set.”

“Thanks. That was a good night.”

It'd also been the last show before his meltdown in Europe.

“So what are you working on now?”

Sebastian released a barely audible sigh and settled his fingers back on the keys. No discordant crash but a collection of notes that sounded melancholy.

“Nothing. I'm not sure.” He shook his head. “Might not turn out to be anything.”

“Do you do all your composing on the piano?”

Sebastian's fingers began to move over the keys and the classical melody piqued Greg's attention.

“Not usually. But I'm classically trained. Ten years of lessons before I got my first guitar. My parents expected me to go to Juilliard or Berklee.” In a flash, the music became an assault and Greg was pretty sure he recognized the opening notes of one of Baseline Sins' biggest hits. “Instead I formed a garage band with a couple of guys who hung around the skate park and drank Wild Turkey until they puked. Needless to say, the parents weren't thrilled.”

Yeah, Greg could see where that might've been a problem for middle-class parents who'd produced a musical prodigy.

“Do they go to your concerts?” Sabrina asked quietly.

“Yeah, they do now.”

Sebastian flashed Sabrina a grin and Greg had to consciously loosen the fist he had formed.

Greg let Sabrina and Sebastian carry the conversation for the next few minutes, talking about nothing more serious than the strange Pennsylvania weather.

And all the while, Sebastian continued to play. The guy had a gift, no doubt about it. Piano, guitar . . . didn't matter. Greg knew Sebastian wrote most of the band's music. Singer-guitarist Max Brody handled the lyrics. Together they'd created some of the best heavy rock to come out of the scene in years.

Their almost-instant fame had come with the expected backlash, but it hadn't been enough to keep them from headlining gigs all over the world. The weight of that could still be seen in the dark circles under Sebastian's eyes.

Maybe he and the kid had more in common than their mutual attraction to a certain smiling female leaning against the piano. Did she realize when she did that, her shirt gaped open and he could stare at the perfect mounds of her breasts?

Probably not.

Then again . . .

She flashed him a smile, as if she'd felt his attention. That smile made lust burn through his veins like acid.

Time's up, babe.

Reaching for her, he did what he'd wanted to do the second he saw her. He put his arm around her waist and drew her into his side.

Her startled glance quickly turned heated.

And it was definitely time to go. Because if they didn't leave now, he might end up showing Sebastian exactly how much he liked her. And while he didn't have a problem with a little public display of affection in the right situation, Sabrina probably wouldn't want him to bend her over the piano and fuck her while Sebastian played.

Hell, the guy could watch if he wanted, but he couldn't touch. Sabrina was his and he didn't want to share her.

The logic was totally fucked. He knew it. He'd had no problem sharing other women in his life. Daisy. Kate. There'd never been anyone else in his life who he'd had such a visceral repulsion to sharing.

Sabrina was his.

Yeah, but for how long?

He wasn't even going to think about the answer to that question, because he might find the answer had changed in the past day.

Pulling his hands from the keys, Sebastian's narrowed gaze took in the situation in a heartbeat.

Beside him, Greg felt Sabrina still, caught the blush that painted her cheeks. He also noticed she didn't pull away.

“Thank you for playing for me, Sebastian. It was beautiful.” Sabrina's voice held a husky note that made his cock twitch. “But I think it's time for me to go up. It's been a long day.”

Sebastian nodded slowly. “Thanks for listening.”

“If you're going to be here for a while, maybe we can talk a little more about your music and what some other options might be,” Greg added. “But for now I'm gonna say goodnight.”

After Sebastian's intrigued, “Sure,” he turned with his arm still around Sabrina's waist. They walked out together but, about halfway through the atrium, Sabrina stopped. “I think you should head out first. That way Laney won't suspect—”

He bent and kissed her with all the pent-up passion currently making him feel like he was hooked up to an electrical current.

Cupping her face in his palms, he angled her head to one side so he could get a better angle, licking at the seam of her mouth until she opened for him.

So fucking sweet.

Her taste flooded his system like a hit of his favorite drug, pure heroin or the best damn scotch. So very,
very
addictive.

As he devoured her mouth, her hands gripped his hips, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of his jeans and shirt to stroke his bare skin. Lightning arrowed to his groin and his cock hardened with a rush of blood that should've made him lightheaded, it was so fast.

He wanted to shove up her skirt, hold her against a wall, and pound into her.

Slow down.

Fuck that. He wanted to go faster.

Tearing his mouth away from hers, he looked around the atrium, searching—

She moved her hands to the front of his pants and let the tips of her fingers brush against the head of his cock.

“Fuck, Sabrina.” Dropping his head, he laid his cheek against her hair, trying to suck in enough air to breathe.

“Yes. Please.”

Jesus Christ, she was going to kill him. Or he was going to die of a passion-induced heart attack as she slid one hand into his jeans and wrapped it around his cock.

With a growl, he wrapped an arm around her waist and took her off her feet. She had to let go of him but he knew it wouldn't be long before he had something much better wrapped around his erection.

“Where are we going?” She whispered the words directly into his ear then bit his earlobe. “You can't take me into the lobby like this.”

He shuddered but continued to walk because, holy fuck, that felt good.

“Not going to. Hold on.”

His voice sounded strangled and he nearly faltered when she began to press open-mouth kisses along his jaw and down his throat.