Sweet Possession (Sweet #5)(50)

He’d let her sleep as long as she would. She’d mentioned that she had a lot to do today but he figured she’d manage better with several hours of sleep in her system.

He was halfway down the stairs when his cell phone went off. He sighed when he saw it was Phillip Armstrong.

“Connor Malone,” he said when he put the phone to his ear. He continued toward the kitchen, where already he could smell food cooking.

“Where the hell is Lyric?” Phillip demanded. “Is everything okay there?”

“Yeah, fine. She’s asleep.”

There was a brief hesitation and Connor thought he heard Phillip sigh in relief. “Good. She needs to rest. She’s way too high-strung and she goes without sleep for too long at a time. Just make sure she makes her two o’clock at Reliant Stadium. She has to meet with the stage crew and sign off on the details for her performance. I don’t like that she’s not using her band, but she was determined to give them a break. Hell, I think she’s on some weird mission to prove something by taking on so much herself for these two weeks. But who she’s trying to prove something to—her or everyone else—I’m not sure.”

“There’s plenty of time for her to make her two o’clock meeting.”

“Be expecting a call from Paul. I gave him your number because he was having a kitten over Lyric not answering her phone.”

Connor bit back a curse. Just what he needed. Her ass**le manager screaming in his ear. But better his than Lyric’s. It pissed him off the way her manager treated her, and Connor had only met the man once.

On cue, the line beeped and Connor pulled the phone away to see unknown caller flash across his screen. “That’s probably him now,” he said as he put the phone back to his ear. “I’ll have Lyric where she needs to be. Don’t worry.”

He punched the button to switch calls. “Connor Malone.”

“Mr. Malone, this is Paul Woodrow. I’ll be flying into Houston at noon, and I’ll expect to be picked up at the airport so I can meet Lyric at Reliant Stadium at two.”

His snappish tone flew all over Connor. It briefly occurred to him that he should probably be conciliatory. Briefly. But he remembered Phillip’s advisory that Connor worked for him, not Paul. It was enough for Connor to speak his mind.

“Want in one hand and shit in the other. See which gets fuller faster.”

“What? What the hell does that mean? Where is Lyric? Why isn’t she answering her phone?”

“She’s indisposed and unable to take your call. I’m so sorry. I’ll have her return your call later. If I remember.”

Paul gave a very unmanly shriek of outrage that made Connor cringe. If he wasn’t enjoying himself so much, he’d hang up the phone in mid-scream.

“I’ll have your balls,” Paul screeched. “You do the job you were hired to do, and you better get Lyric on the damn phone. I’m tired of her flighty, scatterbrained bullshit. She’d better show up on time or it’s going to be your ass in the fire. And there had better be a car to pick me up at the airport!”

“Unless you arrange it, I highly doubt there’ll be one,” Connor said with barely controlled amusement. “Nice talking to you. Have a good day, now.”

Connor blew out his breath as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. This was the most half-assed “business” he’d ever witnessed. The guy in charge of Lyric’s career was a moron and he didn’t give a shit about her. Or what was best for her.

The kitchen was alive with activity. Kane and his men were seated at the table eating a buffet of eggs, bacon, biscuits and bagels. The chef and his two assistants were busy opening and shutting oven doors as the chef barked orders to the woman manning the stove.

“Mr. Malone, what arrangements would you like for Ms. Jones’s breakfast?” the chef asked when he caught sight of Connor.

Connor shrugged. “She’s still sleeping.”

The chef frowned. “Will she be taking breakfast in bed or should I keep her food on the warmer for when she comes down?”

How the hell would he know? He’d never been around such a hyper operation. He was reminded of a bunch of chickens running around with their heads cut off. If this was the way Lyric lived, rushing from one poorly planned event to the next, it was little wonder she looked like she was on the verge of breaking. Hell, he’d already be a permanent resident of the funny farm.

“Fix her a tray. I’ll bring it up to her.”

The chef nodded and then turned to bark another series of orders. Seriously, did this guy not realize he was just cooking for one woman? You’d think he was making meals for the president and his entire Cabinet.

A few minutes later, Connor was presented a tray that looked like something off of one of those home and garden television shows Faith was forever watching. It was hard to tell what was actual food and what was simply presentation.

He snagged a cupcake and stuck it under one of the silver covers on the tray and headed for the stairs. Lyric had plenty of time to make her appointment and he was determined not to rush her. When did the woman ever get a moment to just be? If he were hounded as mercilessly as she was, he’d be in a permanent bad mood. More and more he was beginning to understand what made her tick, and he’d already come to the conclusion that everything around her sucked balls.