Captivated (2 page)

“He’s…sexy.” Very sexy.
“Why?”

“It’s about time you had
some fun, that’s all.”

“I don’t have time for
fun. Come into the kitchen. I need coffee.”

Jayne took one longing
look at the chocolate on the counter.
“Problems? Or are you
refueling from your trip?”

Another email from Oliver
rolled across her phone screen. Irisa couldn
’t cover her sigh. “I’m
going to kill the man.”

“So, problems.” Jayne
nodded and helped herself to a truffle. “What’s wrong?”

“Oliver is overstepping
again. I have to call him. I hate calling him.” Irisa pushed aside the fudge
she’d been contemplating and downed another antacid. She could vent to Jayne.
They’d been friends since the day they’d met at volunteer orientation at the
animal shelter, bonding over a mutual love of animals and similar careers in
the music industry. “They just added on more tour dates, my head is killing me,
and I have to figure out who is sleeping where, and how we’re getting there.”

“You look exhausted. Did
you sleep at all?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Let me help. I handle
bookings all the time.”

The offer was so tempting
…but
Irisa had always handled things herself. “The guys have pain-in-the-neck
preferences.”

“All artists do. I’m used
to it. Just give me a list of what they need and I’ll solve the problem.” With
a sunny smile and the no-fear, can-do attitude, Jayne became a beacon of light
in a storm.

And Irisa needed that
light. Jayne was damn good at her job as tour manager for several different
bands. She could count on her to at least book the hotels.
“Well,
if you don’t mind…”

Side by side, they sat,
Jayne armed with the hotel list and Irisa searching the tour bus companies and
airlines. For the first time in a long time, she had fun, and the unease in her
stomach faded away. When they
’d finished, she turned to Jayne. “I
wish I could take you with me.”

“On tour?”

“Would you want to come?”
She looked at her to-do list and sighed. “I need to get through the next two
months without blowing a blood vessel and I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

“You’re serious.” Jayne
set down her coffee and rubbed the back of her neck. “I don’t know. I’d planned
on taking some time off. I’ll be working on Vendetta’s North American tour in
July. They’re an exhausting group of guys.”

“Please? I’ll pay you
double whatever you’re currently making. And you can have as much chocolate
from the European stash as you want.”

A laugh tumbled out.
“You
must
be serious if you
’re willing to part with that.”

“I am. Save me from the
craziness of the tour.” Now that the idea had taken hold, it seemed to be the
perfect solution. “Please.”

“It would be fun to work
together. But I want to meet the band before I commit.”

Twin rivers of relief and
anxiety rolled through her. The meeting part was easy, but the guys were
unpredictable.
“You’ve got it.”

Within half an hour,
Irisa had tracked down the guys and lined up a quick meeting for later in the
afternoon, then bade Jayne goodbye.

A yawn overtook her. If
she didn
’t
get some sleep, she’d be a useless zombie at the meeting. Her bed was a welcome
oasis. Sounds continued erupting from the overhead rooms. She tucked in the
earplugs she used when traveling, flopped onto the soft mattress, and hoped the
band could hold themselves together long enough to convince Jayne to take the
job.

The
view from the top was quiet, private, and nothing like how his life had been
over the past few years. Dom set the moving box on the floor, wincing over the
pain in his hand and ribs, remnants of his on-field antics the day before, and
stared at the bustling street seventeen stories below.

Late afternoon sunlight
warmed his face. The scent of fresh paint tingled his nose. Wide, open rooms,
far more than he needed, stretched out on either side of him. The pale walls
were like a blank slate, washed clean. He needed that more than he needed
anything.

“Hey, Dom, where did you
want this?” Adam Hudson, his best friend and one of the Riptide’s starting
pitchers, stood in the foyer holding a box filled with his baseball equipment.

Dom turned, knocking into
the box by his feet. Shit. He didn
’t want any of his old
trophies to break. He pointed to the corner by the door. “There’s fine. I’ll be
carting it to the ball park tomorrow anyway.”

“You know, you could’ve
had the movers unpack this stuff for you.” With a smirk, Adam deposited the box
on the floor.

“I figured this would be
a good team-building activity.” Dom rolled his shoulders. His side hurt more
than he wanted to let on. Squeezing in a move on the only day off they’d have
for the next few weeks wasn’t his idea of a good time, but his friends had come
through for him. They always did.

The movers had left a few
hours earlier. His buddies had come over to help break in his game room, and
ended up helping him unpack the stuff he hadn
’t trusted the
movers to touch. Even Slade had come. The first baseman sported a wrap bandage
on his right hand and loaded sports memorabilia onto shelves.

“Guys, take a break.
Let’s grab a beer.” Dom led the way into the kitchen.

Footsteps echoed from the
hallway, accompanied by the skittering of dog paws on the floor. His Great Dane
bounded to him, as excited as if they
’d been separated for
weeks, not minutes. He crouched and accepted the hundred and twenty pounds of
happy dog barreling into him.

Liam York, the team
’s
mascot, strolled in behind him, whistling. “Dude. The view from the bedroom
balcony is sick. I’d never come inside if I lived here.”

“I think Champ likes it,
too.” Dom rubbed the dog’s head.

A balcony for each
bedroom. One of the perks of the penthouse. Oversized rooms were another.
Plenty of space for Champ to run around. The guys wouldn
’t
let him hear the end of it if they knew he’d chosen the apartment mainly
because he’d thought the dog would be happy there. But maybe Fate rewarded his
decision. The stunning woman struggling with her luggage in the lobby had been
on his mind all day. He fully intended to get to know his new neighbor.

Adam handed him a bottle
of beer.
“Not much left to do except for unpacking a few more
boxes.”

“I’ll order dinner. Pizza
okay?”

“It’s not on the
nutritionist’s diet plan, but what the hell?”

Slade grabbed the pizza
place's menu from the counter.
“If we add peppers and mushrooms,
then it’s pretty much a salad, right?”

Liam snagged two beers
from the fridge and handed one to Slade. "I'm glad I don't have to worry
about that. One of the benefits of the shark costume."

"The other is that we
don't have to look at your mug all game." Dom grinned and caught the
bottle cap Liam winged at him.

“Whatever.”

Laughing, Dom punched in
the pizza place
’s number. Liam’s antics as Fin the Shark
made him one of the most popular mascots in the league, and his penchant for
getting under the opposing team’s skin made him as valuable as any player the
Riptide had on the roster. Dom placed his order, extra peppers for Slade and
extra pepperoni for Liam, then turned toward Adam. The pitcher had his own
phone up to his ear, but pointed to the buffalo wings on the menu. Dom nodded
and finished his order.

“I’ll be home soon…I love
you, too.” The contentment on Adam’s face was too much to stomach. Being happy
for his friends came naturally. But so did the nagging sensation he’d never
find the unwavering support Adam’s wife, Gemma, gave so freely to her husband.

Whatever.

It didn
’t
matter.

He moved away to give
Adam more privacy and joined Slade at the window.
“How’s
the hand? If you overdid it, I’m going to hear about it from the team.”

“I’m fine. Dusty was
overreacting. Doc said I’ll miss a few days, maybe a week.”

To their left, Liam
unearthed pull toys from a box and drew Champ
’s attention. He
joined in their conversation while he played and wrestled with the dog. Ripped
jeans, sunburn, or dog slobber on his shirt, that guy never let anything faze
him. Dom needed to take a lesson from Liam’s book. They’d been friends ever
since Liam had approached him to meet with a terminally ill boy who’d been
Dom’s biggest fan. Their outings with the boy—games at the ballpark, batting
practice, and the All-Star Game—and, finally, the boy’s funeral had forged a
deep bond between them.

With Liam keeping Champ
occupied, Dom and the guys finished stowing away the rest of the items in his
game room.

Chimes sounded from the
speaker in the wall.

“That’s your buzzer?
Geez, I need to upgrade where I live.” Slade shook his head and downed his
beer.

“You should move here.”
Having his buddy close by would help. No one could stay in a bad mood when
Slade was around. Dom tapped the call button. “Yes?”

“Pizza man.”

“Come on up. The
elevator’s at the end of the hall.” He depressed the button and dodged empty
boxes and furniture on his way to the front door. It opened to a small hallway.
Within five minutes, he had pizza on a plate and his friends around the table
with him, lighting the room with their laughter and embellished stories.

Slade lifted his beer in
toast.
“To
Opening Day tomorrow, and a winning season.”

“And to staying under
management’s radar.” Dom drank deep. The beer cooled the dissatisfaction in his
gut.

Adam clapped him on the
shoulder.
“One fight in Spring Training shouldn’t follow you
around all season.”

“I’m counting on
something else happening to take their focus off me. So if one of you wants to
screw up huge, I’d appreciate it.” He set his bottle on the counter.

“Maybe Liam can get into
a fight with the Bolts mascot tomorrow.” Slade grinned. “A shark versus a
lightning bolt. I’m not sure who’d win.”

“Dude. You’d better bet
on me.”

An hour later, the pizza
had been devoured and his friends had gone home. Dom roamed from room to room,
with Champ following behind. Energy pulsed through his system and his mind
wouldn
’t
quiet. The first night in a new place could do that. But this had been going on
far longer than one night. He needed a distraction.

The pub on the building
’s
main floor would at least drown out his thoughts for an hour. He settled Champ
with fresh water and his favorite doggie bed, then changed out of sweat-stained
clothes. A black t-shirt and jeans would work fine for blending in. He didn’t
mind being recognized, but he definitely wasn’t an attention-seeker. A drink at
the bar. Just a drink. Then he’d head to bed and will himself to sleep.

His private elevator
meant never having to wait. He walked through the empty lobby and into a
darkened, mostly empty pub. Low lights spotlighted a few areas. The place was
perfect for privacy, perfect for him. A dark-haired woman sat at one end of the
bar, her back to him, chatting with the bartender. She tossed her head back and
laughed. The musical sound brought a smile to his lips. He moved closer.

When he reached the bar,
she turned and looked at him. His breath backed into his lungs. The woman from
the lobby. Stunning. She had the most beautiful face he
’d
ever seen. Hazel eyes, straight nose, and full lips perfect for kissing. Lights
teased shades of burgundy into brown hair hanging past her shoulders. Her
yellow shirt hinted at her curves and showed off toned arms. Dark jeans hugged
her legs. A gold necklace followed the scoop of her neckline, tempting his gaze
to drop lower. He dragged it up and fought to pull fresh air into his system.

“Hi.” He managed to
speak. Her scent, like flowers and springtime, beckoned him closer.

Her gaze dropped from his
eyes to his lips, then back again.
“Hello.”

The bartender thrust his
hand across the bar.
“I’m Steve. Welcome to the building. I saw
you and the moving truck earlier today.”

 
“Thanks.”
Dom accepted the handshake, but his attention was on the woman beside him.

“We met briefly this
morning. I’m Irisa.”

The name suited her.
“I
remember. I’m Dom. Irisa’s a beautiful name.”

She smiled and his
heartbeat increased.
“It’s a unique one, anyway. This is a
great place to live. Steve makes the best martinis.”

He glanced at the bright
pink concoction in her hand. Rings adorning nearly every finger winked in the
lights.
“That’s
not a martini.”

“Nope.” She took a sip
and her tongue darted out to catch the drop lingering on her bottom lip. “I
wanted something tropical to celebrate my vacation.”

Steve tapped the bar.
“What’re
you drinking, bud?”

“Whatever draft you have
on tap is fine.” He didn’t care what he drank as long as he could sit next to
her while he drank it. He slid onto a barstool and turned to her. “Vacation,
huh?”

“First time off in five
years.” Bracelets clanked together as she toyed with her straw.

“Long time.” What was
wrong with him? All intelligent conversation, all the normal lines he’d say,
disappeared. It was as though all his blood had drained south.

She smiled and sipped
again.
“Especially
since it’s felt like ten.”

“That bad?” He accepted
the glass Steve placed in front of him with a nod.

“Only lately. But enough
about that.” She raised her glass. “I’m about to start my vacation and you’ve
just moved in. Here’s to new beginnings.”

“New beginnings.” He
clinked his glass with hers and held her gaze as he swallowed his beer.

Things were looking up.

Irisa
set her drink on the bar. Not even half a glass in, and she already felt the
buzz. But the buzz hadn
’t hit until Dom sat beside her.
Warmth radiated from him, tempting her to draw closer against the room’s
air-conditioned chill. A sleep-deprived brain hadn’t allowed her to fully take
in his looks that morning, but now, her up-close view revealed tan skin, lots
of muscles, and brown hair tousled just enough for her fingers to itch to
smooth it down. The man exuded confidence and threw off this crazy energy.
Magnetizing. She’d know. Enough rock stars had it, too.

The way Dom was looking
at her—like he
’d rather devour her than the appetizer Steve set in
front of them—set off feelings and desires she hadn’t allowed herself to have
in over two years. Once burned, twice shy. Twice burned, and you closed your
heart off for good.

Until now.

Dom slid a bill across
the bar. Steve pushed it back.
“Nope. On the house.”

“Thanks, man, but I can’t
let you do that.” He pushed the bill at Steve again but the bartender held up
his hands.

“I do it for all the new
residents.”

“It’s true.” Irisa
nodded. “He does it for me every time I come home.”

Dom frowned.
“Every
day?”

“Not every day.” She
laughed, then paused. How to tell him what she never shared up front? “I travel
a lot for work.”

“Sometimes I don’t see
her for months.” Steve ran a bar towel over the polished wood, then headed to
the opposite end of the bar.

“What do you do?” Dom’s
beer sat, almost untouched. His full attention on her. God, how long had it
been since she’d had a man’s undivided attention? Too long.

“Lately, it seems like I
babysit a bunch of overgrown teenagers.” The band meeting she’d called to
introduce everyone to Jayne hadn’t gone as planned. The band’s bickering had
picked up right where it left off. Luke had spread his aggression, usually
aimed at Zander, around evenly. Tempers flared, but she’d succeeded in
smoothing the tension and convincing Jayne to sign on for the tour. For
tonight, and hopefully for the foreseeable future, all was right with the
band’s world.

She picked up her drink
and took a long swallow of strawberry-flavored alcohol. The buzz of her phone
’s
vibration reached her ears.
Private number.
Only a handful of people had her number, and every one of them was programmed
into her contact list.
Private number
could wait.