SOLO (5 page)

"You've heard rumors about it," I counter as I lean back again. "You don't have a clear picture of what I'm offering you."

She rubs her hand over her forehead. Anxiety is pulling her brows together. "I know that you choose a girl from every production you invest in."

"Not every production," I snap back in a lie. "Not every woman I see is involved in the theatre."

Give me more credit than that. I fuck women. I'll fuck any woman who catches my eye. I don't have a type. It just so happens I fucked two who were in the Broadway plays I invested in.

"You have propositioned women in other plays you've backed, haven't you?"

My brow furrows. She hasn't just heard the stories about me; she's jumped to her own conclusions. "You're coming into this with a preconceived notion of who I am."

"I can tell you exactly what I've heard about you if you want." She crosses her arms across her chest in defiance.

She's a firecracker. I haven't worked this hard to get a woman into my bed, well, ever. Why the fuck am I still sitting in this dump listening to her cast judgment on me? What's wrong with me? I can be in a bar within the next ten minutes with at least three women lined up who want to get me off.

"Please do," I say even though I know I'm going to regret this. "I'm all ears."

She adjusts herself slightly on the edge of the chair she's sitting on. "I heard that you picked a girl to sleep with from the last play you invested in and the play before that."

I raise my index finger to stop her. "Libby, I already told you…"

"I know," she interrupts. "You don't choose a woman from every production." The clear emphasis is on the word
every
.

I nod in response. My eyes are glued to her face. I'm taking way too much pleasure in watching her squirm.

She pinches the bridge of her nose. "You do nice things for them."

Nice things? Seriously? What the fuck is that?

"I take very good care of the women I spend my time with."

Her face flushes at my words. She knows I'm not talking about gifts or outings. I'm talking about sex. I take care of my partners. I never leave them wanting. Correction. I never leave them unsatisfied. I always leave them wanting more.

"I'm sure you do," she says softly.

"Libby." I run my hand along my cheek, stopping to race my finger over my chin. "You're very attractive." I know I should follow my instinct and walk out the door right now, but I can't. There's something about her that is pulling me into her. I don't need to define it right now. All I need is to get her to agree to this.

She glances down at her clothing before pulling her hand through her hair. "I'm not."

"You're interesting to me," I offer, ignoring her comment. There's no way in hell she's oblivious to how attractive she is. I don't buy that for a second. "I'd like to get to know you better."

"We can just go on a date," she suggests.

"I want more than a date." My tone is forceful. "I'm a busy man. I don't just date women. I like if we have a clear picture of where things are headed before we invest our time in each other."

"Is that because of expectations?" For someone who is as smart as Libby is, she definitely knows how to play the dumb blond card to a tee. She's playing with me. She has her own agenda.

"Let's cut to the chase." I'm tired of this cat and mouse game we're playing. Right now, I actually have no idea, which one of us is the cat and which is the mouse.

"Okay, fine." She pushes both her heels into the floor. "What are you actually proposing?"

I've never had to spell it out with this much definition. Christ, she's wearing on my last nerve. "You make yourself available to me over the course of the next few months and in return, I'll help your career."

Her brow spikes at the mention of her career. I threw that in there for good measure. If pressed in the past, I would have offered a piece of jewelry or a car. Yes, I'm that guy. I'm the guy who buys a woman the pretty, fancy shit she wants so I can get a taste of her pussy. Judge me not. The approach has yet to fail me.

"Help my career in what way?" Her interest is not only peaking, it's exploding. I just found the magic ticket to get inside Libby Duncan's ripe, beautiful body. I just have to give her a chance to shine in Selfish Fate and she's mine.

"We'll work on the details of that later," I offer. Later, as in, when I've figured out what the hell I can do for her career. I know I can cement a speaking role or a solo in Selfish Fate for her. I'm the one footing the entire bill for that train wreck.

She tilts her chin to the left as her big, brown eyes rake over my face. "Do I have to fuck you?"

Hearing that word flow from her gorgeous, plump pink lips wakes my cock up. I'm instantly hard. "Do you want to fuck me?" It's a rhetorical question. I already know the answer.

Her shoulders rise as she pulls in a very slow, sensual breath. "I'm not sure."

My dick goes limp, my blood pressure rises and I search the ether for something to say back to that. "You're not sure?"

She twists her lips together in a pout. "No, I'm not sure," she repeats silencing any arousal I may have felt.

What the fuck kind of game is she playing? I'm literally speechless. I need to get the hell out of here. "I'll pick you up for dinner tomorrow at eight."

Her eyes dart to the floor before she responds, "I can't tomorrow. I have to work."

I pull myself up to my feet. "You don't have to work. Rehearsal ends at four," I point out.

"I have another job."

"Where?" I bite back. Why am I even bothering at this point? There were at least five other women in the chorus I could have in my bed later tonight.

She studies my face for a minute as if she's running an internal debate about whether or not to confide in me. "I work at a jewelry store."

"Doing what?"

Her eyebrows bolt up in surprise. "What do you think? I sell jewelry."

I need a fucking drink. "You're in a Broadway play, Libby. Why the hell are you working in a jewelry store?"

"I like it," she tosses back before she bolts to her feet. "I need to go to bed."

I need a redo of this entire day. Fucking Libby Duncan is proving to be more challenging than most of the million dollar deals I've got under my thumb right now. There isn't a woman alive that's worth this much trouble.

Libby

"Are all men in New York arrogant assholes?" I ask, after turning to make sure no customers are lingering in the store.

"Jax isn't an asshole." My boss, Ivy, leans forward on the glass display case. "Wait. He was a little bit of an asshole when I first met him."

I roll my eyes as I place a diamond bracelet in the case. "I don't believe you. Jax is a prince."

"He's a prince now," she says through a small chuckle. "When we first met, he was a jerk."

It's hard to place the words in my reality. Ivy's husband, Jax, has been nothing but kind to me since I started working at her jewelry store, Whispers of Grace. He'll often come in with a coffee for each of us if I work the Saturday morning shift. He's the one who encouraged me to go on the audition for Selfish Fate. Although he isn't an actual owner of the store, he's here a lot. I can see how much he loves his wife every time he steps through the door.

"I want to find a guy like Jax." I smile up at her. "You're really lucky."

She nods. "I know that I am."

"My schedule is going to change once the musical goes to previews," I begin. "I might have to quit."

"Quit?" She quips, obvious disappointment laced into the word. "No, Libby. You don't have to quit."

"I might not have time to be here anymore."

"Then we'll consider it a leave of absence." She moves away from the display case after grabbing a pair of ruby earrings. "I want to add to these. I should take them up to my studio."

I nod. Ivy's such a beautiful person, both inside and out. She puts a touch of her soul into every piece that she creates in her studio upstairs. Jewelry is her passion as much as performing is mine. When I first walked into her store a year ago, it was to look at her designs. She offered me a part-time job on the spot and I haven't looked back since. She and Jax have helped me feel as though I have roots in New York. They treat me like family.

"Can I talk to you about something?" I blurt the question out without much thought. I was going to bring this up with Claudia earlier, but there's no way she can have the same detached perspective that Ivy will.

"Sure." She turns to look directly at me. "Is something wrong?"

"No." I shake my head a bit too vigorously. 

I've been fighting my own inner demons over this issue all day. I can't stop thinking about Alec Hughes and the conversation we had in my apartment last night. My sex had ached when he'd left and I had to bring myself to orgasm just so I could fall asleep.

"It's a guy thing, isn't it?" She reaches her hand across the case to cover my own. "I can help. I'm good at relationship stuff."

I'm taking her word for it. She's one of the few people in this city that I know who is in a happy, seemingly balanced relationship. I'm not looking for that for myself just yet, but I need to hear someone's opinion on Alec's proposition.

"Is it someone you're dating?" Her voice peaks with the question. I can tell she's obviously interested in what I'm about to tell her.

I scratch my chin. Once I say this, I can't take it back. She'll hold the knowledge and she'll share it with Jax. I can't blame them if they judge me for it. I'm judging myself for even considering it. I can't quiet my curiosity. I want to go out with Alec Hughes. I want to get a better understanding of what he's offering to me. I just don't want to be that girl who sleeps with a man to further her career.

"No," I say the word slowly. "It's someone that I work with."

"It's someone from the play." She claps her hands together as if she's about to open a treasure box. This is gossip to her. I can see it within her expression.

"It's the man who invested in the play," I correct her. "He's backing the entire production."

"Alec Hughes?" His name leaves her lips in a heated rush. "You have something going on with Alec Hughes?"

How? How the hell does Ivy know his name? "You know about Alec?" Using his name in such a casual way feels foreign to me. It speaks of an intimacy that isn't there. I'm not sure I want it to be there.

"Jax knows him. They're friends I think. I met him once."

"What?" That's more of a
what the fuck
than a what but I want to keep my job.

"Let me think." She taps her index finger against her forehead as if she's lodging free some tidbit of information that is stuck within her memory. "Jax has a best friend. His name is Hunter Reynolds. Have you heard of him?"

I shake my head slowly. How did we go from my wanting advice about Alec's overt sexual proposition to her talking about her husband's bestie? "No."

"He owns Axel NY." Her hand flies to her chest. "The food there is to die for."

Now we're going to talk about restaurants? I should have just asked Claudia her opinion on this. I don't respond because when Ivy's on a tangent, the best thing I can do is hold on for dear life and go along for the ride.

"Hunter is married to Sadie Lockwood. You'd like her."

I'm sure I would but what the hell does this have to do with Alec? I open my mouth to say something but I've got nothing. Thankfully, Ivy isn't done yet.

"Alec is friends with Sadie and Hunter. That's how Jax met him." She scratches the top of her head. "He's very good looking."

I need to back pedal within the conversation. "Who is good looking?"

"Alec Hughes." Her head darts around the empty store. "Don't tell Jax I said that."

I shrug my shoulders. I'm so lost right now that I feel as though I need a road map to lead me out of the maze that is Ivy's mind. "I won't," I say as a courtesy. How the hell would I even bring this up with Jax? I don't even have a clear picture about what the two of us are talking about.

"What's going on between you and him?" she asks in a barely there whisper.

I stare at her. I can't tell her a thing. She knows who Alec is. Keeping secrets is a foreign concept to Ivy. "Nothing," I say through a stilted laugh. "Nothing at all."

She tilts her head to the side. She's not buying what I'm selling at all. "Are you dating him?"

I grip the edge of the display case. I need the anchor to get me through the rest of this conversation. "No," I scoff in the most believable way I can.

"Good." She pats my hand. "I don't think he's good for you."

I don't ask her to elaborate. I don't need her to. I need to forget about Alec Hughes.

Alec

She was talking about me. I was falling asleep during the conference call I had with Jax Walker and Hunter Reynolds about the prospect of investing in their new restaurant venture and then Libby's name was thrown into the mix. I had no fucking idea she worked for Jax's wife. Knowing she asked Ivy about me has set the wheels in my brain turning again. I may have a chance with her yet.