Rock Hard (Rock Kiss #2)(23)

“Uh-huh.” Glancing over her shoulder, he said, “Come in, Finley. Ms. Baird and I were just finishing dinner.” He picked up the printout he’d edited earlier, as Charlotte put down her fork and closed the lid on her empty container.

Handing the pages to her, he said, “Can you input these changes tonight?”

“Yes, of course. Would you like me here for the meeting at ten?”

He took a second to run through the details in his head. The call was scheduled so late because of the time difference with London, home of the man with whom Gabriel was doing a deal critical for Saxon & Archer’s future growth. “Yes,” he said, “I might need you.”

Glancing at his watch, he saw it was almost eight. “If you like, you can go home for an hour and a half after you finish the edits, get back here ten minutes before the meeting.”

Nodding, she left, closing the door behind her, and Finley took her place. Whereupon Gabriel looked the man in the eye and said, “Would you care to explain to me why there’s a hundred thousand dollars missing from the operating budget for your department?”




CHARLOTTE DIDN’T GO HOME as Gabriel had suggested. Instead, putting on her coat, she took a walk down to the waterfront, the city streets vibrant with life despite the winter chill, the sea wind refreshing against her skin. Leaning against the railings by the ferry terminal, she watched the ferries come in and thought about how many ice creams she and Molly had shared on the nearby steps.

She missed her best friend each and every day, but she was fiercely happy that Molly had made the brave decision to fight for her dream and moved to LA. They still spoke or e-mailed every day, and Charlotte had no fear that would ever change. No matter if Molly was now with one of the biggest rock stars on the planet, she was still Molly, still Charlotte’s sister of the heart.

One who’d sent her a message two days ago that said:





Fox told me today that the band decided to get their own private jet. Yes, my jaw fell too. But apparently it’s a good investment—and the best news is that you can fly in style when you visit. I can’t wait until you can take a vacation and come over so I can show you LA!





Has T-Rex fired you this week? Or has he been behaving? Tell me all! I get suspicious when you go quiet on the subject of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Carnivorous. Oh, hope the fancy cake you wanted to make came out okay. I miss your baking, especially those chocolate chip cupcakes with orange cream frosting.





And talking of baking, your new cooking class buddies sound like a hoot! Juliet and Aroha are my kind of women. Hope your next coffee date is just as much fun.





– Love, Molly





p.s. A pressie attached for you. VERY NSFW.





The attachment had been a shot of Gabriel in his rugby playing days, sans his playing jersey. It had definitely been very not safe for work. The jersey had ripped during what Charlotte knew had been a particularly brutal tackle—she’d watched that game with her father by her side, both of them wincing at the punishing hit Gabriel had taken.

He hadn’t gone down, however. No, he’d made the try. Afterward, the fresh cut on his cheekbone still bleeding, he’d pulled the torn jersey off; the shot Molly had sent was of him pouring water on himself to cool down while a member of the team staff went to grab him a replacement jersey.

Charlotte had turned into a puddle in her bed at home when she’d pulled up the message and downloaded the image. The water dripping over the breadth of his shoulders, over his pecs, along the hard ridges of his abs, into the waistband of his playing shorts…

Charlotte waved a hand in front of her face.

Yes, the man was hot. Seriously, dangerously hot. A week ago, she’d walked in on him while he was changing into a fresh shirt to attend a dinner party he was heading to straight from work.

Her mouth had watered before it dried up, her skin taut over her body. She’d lost the ability to speak, so it was as well that he hadn’t been annoyed at the interruption, had simply started giving her instructions about something he needed done. Charlotte had heard none of it, though later she discovered she’d taken notes.

All she’d seen right then were the impossibly beautiful ridges and planes of his body, followed by the efficient movements of his fingers as he did up the buttons. She’d almost whimpered as he slipped each small disk into its hole, the view disappearing before her eyes. His chest was lightly furred with dark hair, just enough that her nipples throbbed at the memory even now, her body happily informing her the rasp of sensation would feel exquisite.

As for his hands, they were big and strong and a little rough from the rugby he still played when he coached a local high school team twice a week. With the season in full swing, she had standing orders to juggle his schedule so he could make all the training sessions; she knew he attended all the team’s weekend games as well.

Apart from the parade of one-date women, that appeared to be his only downtime.

If she sometimes imagined what those capable, strong hands would feel like against her skin, that was her secret fantasy. No need for anyone to know. Especially not Gabriel.

“You know, Charlotte, there’s probably a law against ogling the boss,” she muttered to herself, but knew she wasn’t going to stop.