“Hello, Mr. Tyler. Such an honor to meet you.”
Even her voice had character. Her skin was the smoothest and clearest he’d ever seen. She had lusciously pink lips and a cute, pert nose while her chin had just the slightest dent in the center.
And her perfume. Fuck. Not that perfume, thought Ethan as her soft, feminine hand slipped confidently into his. He grasped it firmly, turned it palm up, and lifted her wrist to his nose.
She froze in place, but he ignored the look of disbelief that swirled in her smoky green eyes as he inhaled deeply.
“Heaven Scent by Lingo,” he growled deeply, closing his eyes as the smell took him back in time, through the ages to the misspent years of his early youth.
He looked up at last and could see Mandy’s shocked smile. “Yes. How did you know?”
“My adoptive mother wore that perfume. And only that, always,” he said, and suddenly dropped her hand.
“I didn’t know you were adopted,” Jessica spoke up, as if to break the spell as she cut in to stand between them.
“Well, now you do,” Ethan said drily, turning to Jessica. Her gaunt cheekbones were tinged heavily with rouge, making her look like someone ready to take the stage at some opulent opera. Ethan sighed inwardly. Despite what anyone might think about her appearance, Jessica had worked with all the biggest names in music, film, and sports. Even business magnates came to her to fix their fashion image. She’d once famously turned down the chance to work with Donald Trump and had even had the opportunity to give fashion advice to the First Lady. So Ethan wiped any thoughts of long-suffering from his mind. He liked clothes, fashion, and jewelry. So he was going to find a way to enjoy this upcoming ordeal, especially now that he had such a juicy temptation within reach.
And being who he was, he made a point of spelling it out to Jessica. “You should know better than to have such a tempting treat so close to hand. She will be working with you on my latest makeover?”
Even though he wasn’t looking at Mandy, he could tell she was blushing again. He smirked to himself. She was such an easy target. Jessica waved her hand in the air and laughed with deep humor.
“And there I was thinking she wasn’t your type. Hands off, Ethan. Her father entrusted me with her welfare so don’t go getting any ideas.”
Ethan could only laugh.
* * *
Mandy had never known she had such a propensity for blushing. All this man had to do was look her way and she was all tied up in knots, going hot in the face, neck…and secret places she’d never known could feel that much warmth.
Mandy had always wondered about the strange allure of rock stars. What made them so irresistible to women? She’d never been that impressed. Sure, with all that money and fame came power, and women were drawn to powerful men. Men who could control crowds of adoring fans and who had the world at their feet. Men whose money could buy them whatever they so much as wished for. When she’d found out she was about to meet the notorious Ethan Tyler, she’d been so sure she’d be immune to him. She didn’t even like hardcore rock.
But forget his music. Ethan Tyler was a god.
In looks, at least. Those mesmerizing blue eyes. That face. God, that face. A cross between sinfully handsome and boyishly gorgeous, he had a forehead and jawline that seemed like it was carved from the Nordic fairy tales of old. Lips full and curvy that had no business being owned by a man - so unfair was Mandy’s longing thought. And boy was he tall; well above six feet and lithe as a swimmer, with those lean hips that seemed to make a pair of snug black jeans look like they should be outlawed for being too sexy. Goodness. His hair; she couldn’t forget his hair. Shamelessly wavy and long, the almost white-blond tresses fell back on either side of his broad shoulders, barely masking the tattoos spanning the whole length of his throat, the tribal ink designs disappearing into his ripped-neck black tee.
Sex. On legs. And Mandy hadn’t even understood what that had meant till he walked in.
She marveled that her palms weren’t all sweaty when he took her hand in his. And then when he gripped her wrist and lifted it to his nose, she’d felt the jarring sensation of lust shoot right up her arm to tingle at her nerve endings. How a man could exude such sensual appeal from just a light touch had Mandy’s head reeling. Her chemical reaction to Ethan Tyler’s presence, looks, and touch told her she may not be as ready for a life in showbiz as she’d imagined.
Mandy had always been interested in glamor, but her history wasn’t exactly a poster for anything remotely glitzy.
Her father was a big-shot financial guru who handled investment accounts for the high and mighty in the corporate world. His work with hedge funds ensured he gained a bank balance that wouldn’t run dry in a few lifetimes to come.