Sam Weis wants to marry me"
It"s one way to get that crazy btch off my back.
But Sam" That"s playing with fire.
A bad boy Rockstar with melting eyes and that dimpled cocky grin.
I wasn"t going to say no.
It was one long hot steamy night.
My hands in his tousled hair, his lips so hungry on my skin"
I broke it off the next day, but I haven"t forgotten.
His wounded gaze still eats up my soul.
And now he"s proposing marriage to save my ass.
It"s just business, right"
We won"t forget it"s pretend.
Will we"Books by Author:Amy Brent Books
I sat at the worn wood bar at Lunar Caf", staring into my tiny cup of espresso but not really seeing it. The caf" was a local favorite in the Seattle neighborhood and open twenty-four hours. I had spent more than my fair share of time hanging out at the place, trying to wind down after a stressful day at work.
I didn"t have to worry about that anymore. It was a bitter thought. I took a sip of the strong coffee. A storm of emotions filled me, and I didn"t even know where to begin to decipher it all.
I was nervous and excited, anxious and angry, and, if I was being honest with myself, which I always made a point to be, fucking terrified.
I was finally branching off on my own, not that I"d had much of a choice.
I had been working at one of the largest talent agencies in Seattle. I"d worked my way up the totem pole for the last five years of my career. Things had been going great. I"d been in line for the promotion to lead agent I"d been eyeing.
And then everything had gone to hell, and I knew exactly whose fault that was: Bryce"s. I shuddered just thinking his name.
I had known it was a mistake to get involved with the lead singer of one of the bands my company represented. It had started out fun and lighthearted, but things had gotten serious fast.
And then, as they always did when it came to me and relationships, things had gone badly. Namely, he hadn"t kept his hands off the groupies or his dick in his pants where it belonged.
I"d found out and been heartbroken, and then pissed, and then I"d broken up with him. I didn"t do cheaters. I shook my head at myself. I should know better by now, damn it. I always fell for the same type: dark and brooding, poetic and sensual. Goddamned musicians.
No more, I promised myself, taking another sip. No more musicians. Never again. They weren"t worth the heartache.
But if it had just been a bruised heart"and if I was honest, a bruised ego"it wouldn"t have been that bad, except after I broke things off, Bryce went on a smear campaign against me. Instead of sticking up for me, the higher-ups at the agency had fired me. Letting me go, my boss had called it, due to extenuating circumstances.
Hah! Due to extenuating douchebags maybe. All they saw were dollar signs, and Bryce was the singer for one of their biggest bands.
I went back to sipping my espresso, staring out over the crowd of young locals. It was their loss. I was one of the best agents they had.
I"d been dreaming of branching out and starting my own agency for years. This was just the shove I needed. Yep, that was all it was, just fate telling my it was time to take the leap. Sure, it was a little more abrupt that I"d expected, but I was damn good at my job. I had contacts all over the country thanks to my old job. I would show them all. In fact, I had a meeting with my first new client the very next day.
It was a local band. I hadn"t seen them live, but I"d heard their demo and knew they were good. Really good. And I was going to make them great.
I drew in a deep breath as the guy sat down next to me and ordered a drink. That was how I thought of him every time I saw him. He was dark, broody, and delicious"my kryptonite.
I"d seen him before at Lunar, and every single time I couldn"t keep my eyes, or my fantasies, off him.
He had chestnut-brown hair that was tousled like he"d just run his fingers through it. Or just gotten out of bed. The thought had heat stinging my cheeks, but it didn"t stop me from watching him from my peripheral. He was tall with the lean muscles of a swimmer and strong, broad shoulders.
It was his eyes, though, that captivated me. Soulful dark eyes that stared out from under slashing brows. He was all cocky, sarcastic confidence on the outside, but all anyone had to do was look at his eyes to know he was a wounded soul. They were the eyes of a poet. Oh god, he really was exactly the type that made me go weak in the knees and turned my body to jelly.
He smiled at me, a self-deprecating, lopsided smile that had a dimple winking at me from his right cheek, and I was lost. All it took was a simple smile and I melted on the barstool.
"Hey, I"ve seen you here before," he said, speaking softly so I had to lean forward to hear him over the noise of the crowded caf".