Bound to Please(26)
“Fine. But I’m only agreeing because I know you’re too stubborn to give up, and I suspect that once the chase is over, you’ll move on.”
A long pause, and she wondered if she’d gone too far. But then he said, “Oh, Ruby.” His voice was deep, husky. “Baby, I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”
Her body should not be trembling from those words. Her pussy should not be moist. And her toes should definitely not be curling.
But even if she did have the self-discipline to say no to Mark, there was the little matter of getting the Riders to play at James Cleaver’s party.
“Fine.” Straightening, she cleared her throat. “Meanwhile, I have a favor to ask.”
Chapter
Eight
Don’t make me regret this.”
Mark looked up from the notebook in which he’d been jotting down the lyrics for a new song. Because apparently the world needed one more song with the word Ruby in the title. “What?” he said, eyeing Yvette.
She sat on the edge of the hotel bed, her guitar resting on her lap. “Recording this album in San Francisco.”
They’d left San Francisco a week ago, and last night had been their final tour date. Now they were returning to San Francisco later that day to start recording with Emmett.
“What are you talking about?” He tried to hide his irritability at being interrupted midthought. He’d had this melody in his head, and some lyrics, and he needed to work it out.
“Oh, come now. I’m not above eavesdropping. I know you’ve called her or sent a text message to her every day this week.”
It was true. He’d wanted to hear Ruby’s voice, to know she was thinking about him. She always kept it short, but at least she answered, even if he had a feeling she did so just because he hadn’t yet given her the okay on her party. Yeah, he was milking that one for all he could.
And, he was dying to get back to Ruby. The thought made him shift, his balls suddenly tight.
“You know how intense recording can be; we need all your focus on this album. Don’t let her get in the way.”
He gripped his pencil. The problem with having such a close relationship with Yvette was that she knew exactly how to piss him off. But all he said was, “This is a girl I’ve met once.”
She strummed a chord. “I would like to declare an official position on your interest in a certain dark-haired girl to whom you seem to have become attached.”
“Is that so?”
“Don’t do it.”
Using the tip of his pencil, he stabbed a hard beat on the notebook.
“Thanks for the advice, but I think I can handle it.”
“Aha! So you admit there is something to handle?”
“Yvette. Watch it.”
“I did. Last weekend. I watched you miss a beat because you were smitten with a girl in the audience.”
He slammed his notebook shut, annoyed that he hadn’t gotten his thoughts on paper. “Are you saying you’ve never had an off night? Because that’s not true. In fact, I’ve noticed the bottle of wine you drink before each show isn’t exactly helping your performance.”
Green eyes blazing, she stood. “What are you saying?”
“Maybe you should lay off the booze for a bit. You’re getting sloppy.”
“At least I didn’t speak for the band and agree to play some stupid yuppie party, all to get in some chick’s pants. It’s not cool.”
The tension in the room grew as they stared at each other. But Mark wasn’t about to back down, even if it struck him as strange that he was fighting with Yvette about a girl. In all their years together, this was a first.
He had no idea why he was so attached to Ruby after such a short time, but he wasn’t fighting it. In fact, his feelings had been inspiring him to create new material, which was what he’d been trying to do when Yvette had interrupted him.
Finally she gave him a grin. “God, that was so cliché. I can’t believe we’re arguing about girls and alcohol.”
Mark decided to let it go. “Yeah.” He ran a hand over his scalp. “Listen. I know you want this record to be perfect, and trust me, so do I. But stop stressing. We have thirteen new songs, and Emmett really seems to get us, our style. I don’t know about you, but I’m excited to get started.”
“So am I. But let’s just remember the real reason we’re going to San Francisco and not be distracted by sweet pussy.”
She must have seen the murder in his face because she backed down. “Hey. I’ve said my piece.”
“Yeah. You have. Now drop it.”
She did, taking her seat on the bed. Soon the tinny melody of her unplugged electric guitar filled the room. Mark returned to his notebook, letting her rhythmic tune lull him back into creative mode. He wanted to finish this song and hopefully get it on the record. But he wondered how Yvette would react when she heard the title. He traced the words over and over until they formed thick block letters.