The Boss Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2013 Carlene Love Flores

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-491-7

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For my honey

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

  Huge, sweet thanks to my editor, Karyn, my critique partners, Lynne and Kerri, and to all who love reading romance, you rock!

  THE BOSS

  Romance on the Go

  Carlene Love Flores

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  The adrenaline sizzle that always came after he commanded an audience threatened to buckle his knees, drench his skin with sweat, and lower his walls.

  And then it intensified as soon as he spotted her.

  Good, she’d hung around. While everyone else, a few lucky fans mixing with members of his touring team, camped around applauding his surprise farewell announcement, Cherie stood wide-eyed in a back corner. Every two seconds she blinked while her hand patted her chest. That bewildered look scrunching up her face must be his fault. She had to be wondering what drugs he was on. Why else would he announce he was done with the tour, give the rest of their styling team fond goodbyes, yet insist Cherie still meet him for their usual appointment after the show? As long as she showed up when and where he’d told her. That was all that mattered.

  The sight of her hand really had him because it was all he could do not to slip and live in the perfect space between her small, pert breasts. God, the way she watched with those scope-like, unadulterated gray eyes tortured him and poked holes in his resolve. This creature was not meant for him, but her look emptied the room and held him.

  His every other second? War. The noble one he was enlisting for in the morning, the reason for needing her help alone this time, and the wicked one he had to fight against tonight, if she kept looking at him like that.

  Nick tipped his fedora hat to quiet the few still clapping hands and signal the winding down of the after party. “You’ve lived, breathed, and worked your asses off for me this past year, and for that, as always, I’m humbled and grateful. I appreciate the support you’ve shown…”

  “Hey Nick, what gives? A year off? You getting too tired for the back to back stuff, old man?” His favorite roadie, Jones, never missed a chance to heckle him.

  Nick smirked, checked for his worried wallflower standing in that dark corner, and then trailed a heated glance past an adoring female foursome inching their way toward him. He removed his hat and ran through his messy, wet hair his fingers that still buzzed from playing only minutes ago. Sweat dripped down his hand. This was it. The last thing he’d say to the room before ghosting out and making his way to his special appointment. He could already feel her fingers in place of his. Nick cleared his throat.

  “Who you calling old, Jonesie? My brother, it is what it is.” And it would be more than one year, more like three. But he hadn’t wanted to give many details of his upcoming absence up for public consumption. Nick winked and stepped through the small crowd, giving hugs and light kisses on the cheek as a few slapped his ass or touched a loose wave of hair he hadn’t slicked back. By the time he made his way to the corner, she was gone.

  Good. If tonight was meant to be, she’d gone to her room alone to wait like he’d asked.

  He looked back, feeling an unapologetic hand on his ass and caught the eye of one of the eager foursome. While tonight would have been the perfect night for easy, he knew he needed raw, innocent, and real. It was every bit as wrong in reality as it was in his mind, but he wanted her.

  Nick bowed his head to the guaranteed woman and slipped out the after party door to pursue the girl he’d refused to be left alone with for the past year. When he found her, he’d explain why this time they were having their weekly appointment one-on-one, just him, just her. The thought spiked his adrenaline, sending that cool dude who’d made jokes earlier packing and ushering in the real man, hungry and needful. On the eve of the most selfless decision he’d ever made, Nick suddenly had a very selfish thought. After they finished their business, he hoped like hell she’d let him stay this one night with her.

  Of course, if she was smart, she wouldn’t.

  He removed his hat and held it to his chest, then looked upward. “I’m sorry, man, I can’t stay away anymore, not tonight. Please forgive me,” he faintly said to the heavens before making his way to the elevator. “But I promise, I’ll be good to her.”

  ****

  The elevator couldn’t have come any slower if it had been pulled up with ropes by tiny worker mice wearing half shirts and caps. Okay, so she’d seen Cinderella a few times too many as a child, but that was her brother’s fault for never letting her play with his boy stuff. What did a high school senior care about his first grader sister getting into his old action figures anyway? God, she missed him so badly. Seriously, the darned elevator could get here, preferably before her twenty-first birthday. A few hours and counting. Let’s go, Gus.

  She was exhausted and frankly overwhelmed.

  Something was up with her boss, she thought, as she yawned and tightened her ponytail, which taunted a headache at her temples. Boss. She’d insisted on calling him that. Partly to tease him because she remembered firsthand his and her brother’s fan-boy love for Bruce Springsteen. Who could ever forget the two and their shaggy hair held back with the classic bandanas? Scott mostly just grossed her out threatening to shake all that sweat at her after air-guitaring it in the old, musty garage, but her boss had been nothing but cool and dreamy. Especially back then. Now there was this funky distance between them, and Cherie’s most important goal had been to ward off any ill-will from the rest of the crew that her position as Assistant Personal Hairstylist had obviously been created. As in especially for her, baby sister of Nick Phillips’s best friend. Nick’s chestnut brown eyes hadn’t been right just now though, so she really needed to get to her room where he’d insisted she wait for him.

  Finally, the down arrow beeped and turned green. Cherie stepped in, her hand instinctually sliding against the door to hold it open for any late comers. When no one showed, she let it go and took her place in the corner, holding tightly to the bars for the ride down to her measly floor. The initial drop caused a tickle in her belly that surprisingly continued downward. She squeezed her thighs together as best she could to satisfy the swelling and tingling happening between her legs. Yeah, that wasn’t the elevator, was it? No, that was all due to the boss’s intoxicating, deep singing voice teasing her the past hour and then his completely unexpected request. Which made absolutely no sense. At all.

  Cherie pushed her floor number again, thinking she could ensure she didn’t stop on any other floor if she was insistent enough with the button. Any visions of grandeur or ridiculousness at being booked on the high-hat, top floor with so many of the other trusted team had passed her by about three months into the tour. Whatever. She didn’t care. She didn’t belong up there with them anyway.

  Nick Phillips had made that abundantly clear, until tonight.

  Cherie’s legs turned weak from all her squeezing. She gave up and plopped down to the elevator’s floor, knowing how far down she had to go, thinking of all the times she’d hoped her brother’s best fr iend was finally going to, well, she didn’t know. Be nicer to her? Treat her like everyone else on the team? Um, say hello maybe without stacking as many people as he could find between them? She wasn’t asking for any special privileges, and the odd distance he’d insisted on ensured she never would. It really was strange to have your hands in a man’s hair and feel the heat of his scalp warming the long silky strands only to look down and find him sitting as rigid as a block of ice. Every week for a year.

  Gorgeous, talented, strange man. But he’d been that way as long as she’d known him.

  He was taking the year off?

  She’d worked hard and kept quiet about who she was around the crew. And instead of getting a heads-up, she’d heard the out of place news as one of the masses just now.

  For a second she thought they were being punked. Nick Phillips was always on the road, had been since her brother had joined the Army, years before that even. But no.

  Man, she must have looked like a real winner shrinking back and gawking at the party.

  The worst part?

  How silly she felt at thinking he was actually making his way through their small crowd to walk with her to this private meeting he’d requested. But nope.

  Wrong again. Darn groupies.

  Oh crud. She’d been dead, throbbing weight on this elevator, and apparently it was now being controlled by much speedier New Yorker mice yelling “Hey lady, we ain’t got all day.”

  Yeah, yeah, shut it, Gus.

  Cherie tried to stand in time to push the “Hold door” button, but she was too slow for this now sassy lift as it arrived.

  In a second, the doors to her floor closed, and she was making her way back up.

  Great. She hadn’t had enough time to figure anything out about this meeting.

  Yes, Nick Phillips was aloof and had often treated her like a stranger amongst their little team, but she could admit it didn’t really bother her all that much right now. So her childhood crush wasn’t ever going to reciprocate, even with her fingers stroking his hair every week for the past year. Fine. Again, she had no idea what she’d have done had he swung her around to land straddled over his lap anyway. Damn ungodly sexy man.

  She shook her head at how loose and desperate she’d let her thoughts become. “I’m sorry, Scott,” she whispered.

  None of that Nick stuff compared to losing her big brother.

  What really hurt was hearing Nick dedicate a song to Scott every night the past year, and feeling so close to him because of that. How many nights had she watched the emotion so thick on Nick’s handsome face that even his sexy sweat couldn’t wash it away? Too many.

  When the elevator stopped back at the rooftop after party floor, she sighed because she knew there’d be no chance of meeting with Nick now. He’d said to be at her room at exactly eleven p.m. It was five minutes past. She was sure he’d just find Stacy or Keith for this final hair trim he so desperately wanted and that would be it.

  He’d probably already gone to the prestigious penthouse suite of his with company. She really wasn’t a fan of those damn lucky groupies. Maybe Cherie would get one last ride with Jones if he was waiting on the other side, or maybe she’d put on her big girl panties and go back to the after party. Surely she could find a table that needed beer bottles cleared or a stray bracelet some fan had accidentally lost that she could return. She didn’t like disappointing the lusty chicks, but did they really think Nick Phillips took care of those trivial things? And even if the world actually did tip on its axis and morph into some fairy tale land where things like that happened, was it fair that they’d get the face time and not Cherie? Uh, no.

  If she wanted to squash the confusion bombarding her heart, she’d march out those elevator doors as soon as they opened and make out with the first guy she saw. Maybe a rumor would start amongst the crew, and that would get the boss’s prized attention. Maybe that would show him she wasn’t some delicate fairy tale princess, and she could handle a man like him, just the same as she could handle not knowing whether Scott had suffered or if it had been quick and painless. Damn it, why couldn’t she get her head on straight tonight?

  The elevator doors opened, and she felt herself becoming woozy and cringing, holding onto an image of her brother, until...

  “Um, hel—hello, Cherie.”

  Shoot, what was he doing here? The wooziness doubled, and to make things worse, her empty stomach growled.

  Her upper thighs finally hit muscle failure from all the clenching and rightfully gave out on her at hearing the boss’s deep voice.

  Chapter Two

  Well hell, this wasn’t the way he’d hoped to properly start their night together, but it explained why she hadn’t answered her door. And now he had a legitimate reason to touch her. He drew in a ragged breath, which was supposed to have reminded him whose little sister this was. What in the hell was he doing here?

  Nick knelt beside a quiet Cherie as the elevator doors closed behind them, and they rode down to her floor. He ran the back of his hands over her cheek. Her skin was cool, and felt so damn good. He wondered if she’d eaten recently. Stacy was supposed to have been ensuring, on Nick’s behalf, that Cherie stopped to at least eat a snack during their hectic schedule, but it appeared his requests were being ignored today. Jostling her shoulders got him a fluttering of her gray eyes, but she wasn’t all the way there. When the elevator opened, he had no choice but to pick her up and carry her like honeymooners. Fortunately, she came to when they reached her room.

  “Um, please, please put me down.”

  “Sorry, but I didn’t want to leave you knocked out on the elevator. Not a girl like you, so—”

  “What? A girl like me what? So naïve? Incapable? Weak?” she asked. She didn’t even sound pissed, if that was what she was going for. Such a soft voice.

  “Oh no. None of those. Cherie.” He said her name and had to stop. Maybe he was waiting to see if she’d faint again. But really he was already getting off on the “shh” sound, and how sexy it was that her name forced him to smile at the end. “I was going to say a pretty girl like you.” That was a damn understatement. His body hardened at his reckless thoughts and hopes for the night. Her fingers massaging his scalp once or twice before he had her work her magic, this time with clippers.

  That didn’t seem to help her though.

  “Boss, I’m sorry I was late, but it wasn’t like you gave me much of a heads-up…” She’d started off with a scorch of steam, but now he could tell she’d lost it. She blinked slow and steady, setting his body on fire over and over again. He was going with it. Not fighting it. “If you’re really taking a year off, I guess that means this is the last time we meet like this?” Her brows shot up into the cutest little vees.

  “I’d like to talk to you about that after our appointment,” he said. If ever there was a night, this was the night to give up completely on that failed promise he’d made Scott. He’d never been surer. “There are things I’d like to explain that I didn’t mention to everyone else at the farewell, if you’ll let me in.” He licked his lips and imagined tasting her soft shoulders right now.

  Her head tilted to the right, and the end of her teasing dark ponytail skimmed the soft muscle of her arm.

  Maybe she’d have been fine on her own this past year. Maybe he shouldn’t have pestered his manager into hiring her after he’d seen her at Scott’s funeral.

  Or maybe on the flip side, he never should have pretended to be disinterested this whole time when the truth was she’d wormed her way onto his radar a few years ago. But she’d been way too young then. And so damn sweet. Hence the warning Scott had issued that Nick stay the hell away. Yeah, but didn’t all big brothers come stocked with that standard issue?

  Thoughts of going and fighting for all the Scotts the country had lost reminded him time was scarce. He’d given himself one night. He would spend it getting one last haircut with the girl he’d wanted for over a year now. God help him if he took more than that from her. Hi s throat tightened as she gave his hair a once-over and then reached up and took the ends of a clump of curl between her fingers.

  “You could probably get away with not having it trimmed tonight since there aren’t any more shows. You don’t really need me here, Boss.” He watched her lips twist and her head lean to the side as she seemed to be perturbed at something. What? Her own words perhaps?

  “Let’s go inside, Cherie.”

  “Okay, if you insist. I’ll get set up as quickly as I can,” she said looking hurried suddenly.

  That’s right, his whole timeliness issue. At least it would work for him as a troop.

  Nick skimmed his empty hand up the smooth wood of the door frame and then stroked his way back down as she set out her comb and scissors on the small bathroom counter. He stepped closer to her. “Take your time, Cherie. Also, I brought you these,” he said, watching her pouty lips being tested by teeth he ached to feel testing his skin. He laid the unused clippers in her hand.

  “What are these for, Boss? We always use my scissors.”

  Yes, he was fondly aware of that. As well as a thousand other details about her teasing his blood into leaving his heart and flowing to his already swollen cock. It could stop jerking at her every word so he could sit through this delicious torture, but it was, after all, what he wanted. To feel something with his flesh and not necessarily his mind tonight.

  If she hadn’t blinked and glanced down just then, she might not have seen it. But she did, and Nick was sure she wouldn’t have missed the sight of his body declaring the situation suitable and himself ready. It was the first time he’d let himself go like that in front of her, and it felt fucking incredible.

  He leaned in for a second, the slightest intention of laying a kiss over her lips daring him, but she turned just in time.