Still, he knew how to baby himself. Smoothies, the occasional detox and working out with Sandy. Usually after a session, they worked out a little more.
In the bedroom.
She put him through his paces, using kettlebells and his own body weight for the most part. He did about a hundred squats on a stability board. Then two hundred pushups on the damn, wobbly thing. Then they took a quick run on the beach to really get the burn.
They were walking back up the steep stairs to his house when Sandy raised her eyebrows at him. He shook his head at the unspoken invitation.
"Sorry love. I'm a bit distracted."
"I noticed that. Everything alright?"
He forced a smile.
"Absolutely. Just working out the details of a new tour and… lots of other tedious things that I won't bother you with."
She smiled, not offended. Sandy was like a man in that way. To her, sex was just sex.
"Okay, Nick. I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure you hydrate."
He toasted her with a chilled bottle of mineral water.
She pecked his cheek and was off. The woman charged an arm and a leg but she was the best personal trainer around. She'd also turned into a friend, on top of the mind boggling sex you could have with a woman who used to be a gymnast. Besides, he could afford her rates so why not?
Nick sighed and guzzled his water. At least working out had cleared his head a bit. He would be fine on the TV show. Far greater idiots did this shite every day and came off smelling like roses.
He could manage to sound somewhat intelligent for ten bloody minutes! He was Nick Falcon for God’s sake!
Marley chose to interrupt that brief moment of bliss.
Why he had allowed his cousin/assistant/manager to live here was beyond comprehension. They were attached at the bloody hip. At the very least he should have tucked the bugger away in a guesthouse.
He scratched his chin.
Did he even have a guesthouse? Then he shook his head. It didn’t matter. He knew why he wanted Marley close, even if he was a pain in the bollocks half the time.
Marley was his best friend, that's why. Christ, who was he kidding? Marley was his only friend.
Everyone else was just hired help or a hanger-on. All he had was family. His mum and Marley.
Thank God for them. Otherwise, he expected he’d have gone off the deep end long ago. He’d be washed up, stuck in the rehab merry-go-round. Or dead.
Marley was holding a piece of paper.
"This came for you."
"What is it?"
"It's from her."
He didn't have to specify who he was talking about. Blast it if he didn't know instantly.
Little Miss Sabrina Newton.
Damn but the woman was becoming a thorn in his side. He couldn't help but smile when he thought of her though. She was like a sexy school teacher. A strict one. He felt his body respond to the thought of her instructing him.
In the bedroom, of course.
First she could boss him around, tell him what to do. He’d like that. And then he'd teach her a whole new bag of tricks.
She looked like a virgin, come to think of it. Why else would she have cried when he came on to her? Unless it was like Marley said and he’d made it hard for her to do her job.
A career woman. How fascinating. He’d never had one before.
He sighed in exasperation, though it was all an act. He couldn’t bloody wait to hear what she had to say.
"Oh bloody hell, what does she want now?"
"Uh… it says 'talking points.' It looks like it's for the interview."
"Great just what I need. As if I needed help coming up with things to fucking chat about. Anything else?"
"Yeah- the last page has a note."
"Well what does it say?"
"It says… 'Don't show up drunk'."
He snorted a laugh. The woman had a lot of gall telling him what to do. She worked for him, didn't she? Or at least for the label that he'd single-handedly kept afloat for the past decade. But she needn't have worried on that point regardless.
Nick was far too nervous to drink.
Chapter 10
Sabrina
Sabrina smoothed her black Herve Leger dress down over her hips. She turned to the side to make sure she looked professional in it. It fit like a glove but the classic bandage style dress was classy enough for a work event.
Tonight, she was going to get Nick Falcon on TV.
Not just sober, either. He had to be well-mannered, charming, exciting and dynamic.
She had to make sure he was good.
Being sober was just the first step. She'd been texting with Marley all day. The guy was funny, rough around the edges, but he seemed to have his heart in the right place. He definitely looked after Mr. Falcon.
Somebody had to.
She'd been reading up on her client's exploits for the past twenty-four hours. She never read gossip magazines but once she started, she went straight down the rabbit hole.
Nick had been married to three supermodels. Three. Super. Models. You would think he would date an actress to break up the monotony, but no. He really seemed to have a type. Light blond hair, tall, skinny as a rail.
Nothing like her at all.
Which was funny, because she could have sworn he had a crush on her. Or at least, he wanted to go to bed with her. Meanwhile, he was also treating her like the enemy. It made no sense at all.
She was the complete opposite of his regular type. No matter how much she ran, she had a very curvy shape. An hourglass they called it. Not that she was heavy. She didn't have time to gain weight. Plus her hair was dark blond.
He seemed to really like bleached out, drugged out look.
She shrugged. None of that mattered. After what she'd read about him, there was no way she would ever sleep with him, let alone date the guy. So he might as well give up now.
Where the hell had that come from?
Get a grip Sabrina. Why was she even thinking about that? It's not like he'd even asked her out. He only asked to- what was it again?
Oh right.
Rub his wang on her tits.
Classy.
Nobody had ever spoken to her that way before. She was still outraged that he would mention his private parts to a woman he had just met. Hell, he'd mentioned her private parts too. All in one, incredibly vulgar sentence.
The kicker was, she was woefully inexperienced. No one had ever rubbed their, um, thing on her breasts. She hadn’t dated since college, and she’d kept that on the light side for sure. After that, well, it had seemed like a bad idea.
She had responsibilities. Her mother would be disappointed if she didn’t live up to her potential. She was the daughter of two hard-working immigrants.
Even though her mother was gone, she would never, ever disappoint her.
So yeah, he’d shocked the hell out of her.
Not that she was a prude exactly but- that was disgusting. She'd gotten a clear visual of him gleefully waving his dick in the air too. She frowned. Something about that was intriguing somehow. No matter how piggishly he'd suggested it.
Sabrina pushed the image aside. She had business to attend to. Business with a very difficult, but equally important, client.
Clearly Nick Falcon was used to doing and saying whatever he wanted to. But that was going to stop now. Today. Definitely before he went on the air. She grabbed her purse and briefcase and walked out to her car.
Chapter 11
Nick
Marley was pacing in the green room while Nick watched. He grabbed a handful of grapes from the platter left out for them, popping several in his mouth.
"Mate. You are driving me mad."
"Sorry, I'm just nervous. Where is she anyway?"
Nick shrugged. He was feeling a bit put out that Sabrina wasn't there to be honest.
"I'm the one who is supposed to be nervous. You sit, I'll pace."
Marley sat down and immediately started jiggling his leg, making his keys jangle noisily. Nick knew how he felt. His nerves were out of control. He was worried that he'd over dressed in his gray Armani suit and plum silk shirt. At least he'd resisted all of Marley's attempts to get him to wear a tie.
He ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up accidentally. Damn, the hairstylist would have his knickers for that. Not that he was wearing any. He patted the top of his head and then gave up. His wavy hair always did what it wanted to anyway.
Nick glanced at the clock. The show was halfway over already. He was to be the last guest. He was, quite literally, almost on.
"Thank god you are here!"
Marley was on his feet. Nick turned to the doorway, expecting to see little Miss Priss in her corporate garb. What he saw instead stopped him in his tracks.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
Her outfit the other day hadn't done her justice. Hot as she was, this ensemble showed her assets to the fullest. He swallowed, realizing she was the best looking woman he'd ever seen.
Sabrina was wearing her golden hair pinned up in a chignon, which showed off her beautiful face and long, slender neck. Her dress was- dear lord- it looked like it had been poured onto her. He hadn't realized she was quite that curvy… he licked his lips as his mouth suddenly felt like the Goddamn Sahara.
He was still gawking at her, staring now at her stupefyingly long legs when she cleared her throat. Twice. How did the woman walk in those spindly heels? He liked them though. He liked them a lot.
He raised his dazzled eyes to her face. He was gratified to see that she looked a bit shell-shocked herself. He smiled suddenly. He didn’t look half-bad, if he said so himself.
"Nick. Are you ready?"
"Huh? Oh yeah, right. I'm ready."
"You read my talking points? List of topics to avoid?"
"Yes ma’am."
She cocked her head at him.