Sweet Possession (Sweet #5)(7)

She accepted the change in subject with her usual good nature, but her eyes gleamed speculatively as if to say she’d get the dirt later. Yeah, she was sweet, but she could also be downright evil.

“They’re out on a job. Pop should be in shortly, and, to be honest, I have no idea where Micah is.”

“Damn.”

“Avoiding Pop?” she asked, her lips quivering with another smile.

“It’s pointless. The old coot would just show up at my apartment.”

Faith did laugh then. “Yes, he would. He’s been muttering under his breath about insubordination and hardheaded employees ever since the record execs called to tell him you’d walked.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “If he wants the job so damn bad, he can send Micah. He’d totally dig the chick.”

“And you don’t.”

“She’s . . . she’s . . . I don’t have words.”

“Wow, Connor Malone speechless. And over a woman. Never thought I’d see it.”

He glared at her. “It’s not what you think. She’s . . .” He couldn’t even finish. Faith burst into laughter, her long blond hair shaking over her shoulders. She reached up to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes and kept on laughing.

He rolled his eyes heavenward and wondered if asking for a sudden lightning bolt would be asking for too much.

“There you are.”

Connor flinched when Pop’s raspy voice filled the room. “Here I am,” he muttered, not turning around in his chair.

Pop ambled up and smiled at Faith. “Your husband said to tell you that he’s going to be running late and for you not to wait on him.”

Her cheeks pinkened, and a soft smile spread over her features. “Guess I’ll head out, then.”

Traitor, Connor mouthed at her.

She winked, then collected her purse and headed for the door.

Pop turned his hard stare on Connor. “Now. You.”

Connor held up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it, Pop.”

Pop grunted. “Well, you’re going to hear it.” He leaned against Faith’s desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t care what happened in L.A. This job is a personal favor to a friend. I told him we’d do it, and I can’t spare one of the others to do it. You’re it.”

Connor set his teeth together. “Just because they all had the poor sense to get all f**ked-up over a woman and think they need to all be married does not mean that I get every shitty job that crosses your desk now.”

Pop snorted. “No sense getting your panties in a wad. You’re acting as bad as that pop star you don’t want to babysit.”

Connor scowled but Pop held up his hand. “I’m asking as a favor.”

Connor groaned.

“She’s flying in this Friday. You’re meeting her for dinner Friday night and then she’s coming in to the office on Saturday for a meeting with you and me.”

“Why am I meeting her for dinner?” Connor demanded.

“Because the two of you are obviously off on the wrong foot, and you need to kiss and make up if we have a hope of making this work.”

“Goddamn it, Pop. You go out to dinner with her. I’ll make the Saturday meeting, but I have no desire to spend five minutes with her alone, much less an entire dinner.”

Pop stared at him for a long moment. “Are you refusing the job?”

Connor swore long and hard. “No, I’m damn well not turning down the job. You’ve made it personal by asking a favor and you know damn well I’m not going to tell you no. But I don’t have to like it.”

Pop grinned. Cagey old bastard. “Phillip Armstrong will be e-mailing all the pertinent information as well as what they want from us as far as security. Tomorrow afternoon I want you to sit in on the conference call that he and Barry Kennedy will be heading up. Then you and I will hash out a game plan so that when she arrives on Friday, you two can discuss what will be done during her time in Houston. I left a detailed file on her on your desk. It will give you a very good idea of what this job will entail.”

“Fine,” Connor muttered.

Pop straightened and started for the door. Grudgingly, Connor stood and turned around to follow. Pop paused in the doorway and faced Connor. The old coot was working to keep a straight face. “Think of it this way. You’ve been bitching about wanting to take vacation for a long time now. Now you get two whole weeks.”

“Fuck you,” Connor growled.

Connor sat at the bar in Cattleman’s, sipping a cold beer as he waited for Lyric Jones to make an appearance. He checked his watch again, irritated that she was fifteen minutes late.

Pop was disgruntled that he hadn’t picked a classier spot, but then, from what he’d seen, Lyric wasn’t the epitome of class, and if he was going to be forced to endure this meeting, then she could damn well come to him on his turf.

He’d spent the better part of yesterday reading the notes that Pop had compiled. Micah had even made an appearance, only too happy to shove the latest tabloid under Connor’s nose with a smug, shit-eating grin. How one woman could cause so much trouble and garner so much press was beyond him.

His trip to the grocery store to get a steak and a six-pack of beer had been soured when he noticed that every single magazine at the checkout had some tale of her latest antics or publicity stunt plastered over the covers.