Devotion (8 page)

“Tim saved me from making a total fool of myself,” she exclaimed. “The reporters started asking about psychological studies and therapy programs being offered. I had no idea what to say! I was terrified!”

“I was watching. You seemed smooth as satin.” Kellen fingered back a few tumbled curls of hair from where they swung against her shoulders. Longing drenched her eyes in a visual so acute he was left speechless.

“I love being together like this,” she whispered.

Kellen regarded her intently for a moment. “Me, too.”

Juliet nodded and settled her hand gently against his cheek. “Let’s make an effort to keep connected like this, OK?”

Kellen took a breath, nodding, praying they could. “That’s what I want, too. It’s important.”

“It’s just…” Juliet fingered the slender strap of her evening bag, where it hung on her shoulder. He could tell she fought to find the right words. “We’re so blessed, Kellen.”

He struggled for a moment as well, but found a smile. When it dawned, he hoped it would slide straight into her heart. She deserved that—and so much more. “You honor me, and us, every day, Juliet.”

She rose up on tiptoes to feather a light, easy kiss against his lips. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

Kellen shoved back the stomach-sinking double standard in which he was tangled. He never, ever wanted to hurt Juliet. She was precious, and he loved her deeply. Furthermore, the commitment they shared to one another was absolute.
Until now.
The words infiltrated, a pair of creeping villains that left Kellen angry about where his life and his heart were headed.

All along, he had figured he could work with Chloe in a professional setting and walk away from her each day.

He had grossly underestimated her impact.

7

“Tell them to take the offer up by two or it’s a no-go.” The next day, Kellen wandered the length of his office, headset in place as he conducted—and hopefully concluded—a sticky bit of telephone negotiating.

“Kellen, you’re a shark. There’s no way Landfield Records can agree to that. Thom Knapp is good, but—”

Kellen shrugged. “Then I’ll let Thom know. Caulfield Group loves the deal. They want him.”

He let that bit of coaxing information dangle. Kellen stuffed his hands into the pockets of his crisply pressed black slacks. He looked out the window behind his desk. Far below, life swarmed in the form of people in motion, traffic inching along. In the distance, he spied birds in flight, and tiny cotton-ball clouds that sailed across the sky. He caught sight of the Ryman. The music icon called to mind Chloe and her delighted reaction at seeing it from this perch high above. He stopped a wistful smile in its tracks.

The phone silence lengthened, but Kellen was in no hurry for the decision he already knew was coming. He was as sure of it as his next heartbeat.

“Two percent additional and we go to contract?”

Kellen’s smile spread slowly. That translated to roughly an extra two million dollars to his client. Not a bad day’s work. “Two and you’ll have a messengered contract before the close of business. Let’s get Thom producing, touring, and recording again. We want this buttoned down as much as you do.”

“Yeah. For a price.” Kellen heard computer key-clicks in the background and could only imagine that Jeff Cox, who represented Landfield Records, was already tapping out a notice to the label’s top brass to inform them Thom Knapp was staying put. Kellen knew better than anyone that keeping their current triple-platinum contemporary rock artist on the label’s roster was of vital importance. Then came the final answer. “Ship the contract.”

“Done, Jeff.” Kellen paused. “You won’t regret this. That’s why you’re doing it. You’ve made a good investment.”

A sigh traveled the length of their connection, then a wry, grudging chuckle. “We better not. He’s got to keep performing.”

“Agreed, and absolutely.”

The call ended and Kellen removed the earpiece, stretching his arms above his head. His suit coat was off, draped against the back of his chair. His white cotton shirt and gold patterned tie completed the ensemble with necessary polish. After all, in the entertainment industry, image was everything.

The Knapp contract had been simmering back-and-forth for over a month. Now, Thom could stay at Landfield Records, which is what he wanted to begin with. Landfield was where his career had been born. Now he’d receive a reward for his loyalty and success.

Yep. Not a bad morning at all.

Still, Jeff was wrong about one thing. Today’s deal wasn’t about price tags and dollar signs. Not completely. Sure, he fed off the excitement of the chase to land great talent, but it also tasted great to emerge on the winning side of tough negotiations. He took care of his clients because they took care of him.

Perhaps that was another part of what had him mixed up about Chloe. Did his feelings have something to do with a protective instinct he couldn’t seem to resist?

The thought circled him around to what needed to be done in that regard. He expelled a hard breath—leaned forward and eyed his phone. There was no sense putting it off. He needed to call her and cancel their lunch date…
appointment
… he amended internally. Kellen reached for the receiver; he shook his head. Standing, he reinserted his earpiece, already knowing he’d need to pace off excess energy during the course of this call. Why did the idea of hearing her voice have his heart hammering in his chest?

Kellen started to dial. Cancelling on her would be easy enough—he could call on any number of worthwhile, legitimate excuses...

The office intercom buzzed, jarring him, leaving him to growl beneath his breath. Next came the voice of his assistant. “Kellen?”

“Hey, Anna. What’s up?” Kellen remained standing, fisting his hands on his hips. With care, he schooled his voice to smooth courtesy.

“I’ve got Frank Simpson on hold, and he said it’s urgent that he speak to you. He called just as you hung up with Landfield.”

Kellen’s heart started pounding all over again, for an entirely different reason.

“Transfer him in, Anna. Thanks.” Kellen picked up on the first ring. “Frank. How are you?”

“This one is going to cost me as it is, Rossiter. I already know that—but so help me, if you put me in the middle of a bidding war to land this woman for my label, I swear…”

Succinct to the point of being abrupt, without any form of preamble, Frank Simpson performed a tirade that was half-serious, half-humorous. The president of Summit Pointe had clearly heard Chloe’s demo. Kellen looked at his watch and did some quick calculating. Overnight shipping would have delivered the CD by eight o’clock in the morning. Not even an hour and a half later, the man had already listened to
Swing Time
. Better yet? He was openly hooked.

Kellen walked the space behind his desk. “I take it you’re interested in meeting her.”

Frank Simpson’s chuckle was laced with a sardonic undercurrent. “Don’t gloat. It’s beneath you.”

“I’m not gloating. I’m simply asking if you’re interested in—”

“Monday, four o’clock. Who’s my competition on this girl?”

“Frank, c’mon now. Do you really think I’d tell you that?” On the inside, expectation caught fire and spread with wild abandon.
You don’t have competition, Frank,
Kellen thought.
Your record label is exactly where she belongs—it’s a perfect fit.
But he played it cool. “I need to check schedules. Let me call you right back.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, Rossiter, because I’m about to bet the farm you already knew I’d be calling the minute I heard her voice—and the song is fantastic. Posturing aside, she’s a phenomenal talent.”

“Give me an hour to confirm the meeting.”

“Done.”

When he disconnected the call and removed his earpiece, Kellen let out a short, satisfied whoop. He laughed and clapped his hands together to punctuate the moment. All of a sudden, he was grateful he hadn’t cancelled lunch with Chloe.

He couldn’t wait to tell her the news.

8

“Hey, Chloe.” Kellen joined her at the restaurant table, where she sat perusing a menu. He bent to kiss her cheek before even thinking about it. He froze for half a heartbeat afterwards but refused to allow himself to second-guess a simple, innocent gesture of welcome and affection. He moved past the moment quickly, though the satin of her skin lingered in his mind.

“Hey, Kellen. How are you?”

Bursting to tell you what just happened,
he thought, but he wanted to draw out the anticipation…just for a few minutes. “I’m running behind. Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“Don’t even think about it. I wasn’t here that long.” Chloe was breezy and friendly—on the surface. In her gaze, he detected an unmistakable degree of deeper pleasure. She unfolded a menu and watched while he claimed the seat across from her. She propped her forearms against the table and leaned toward him. “I have to admit, I was people watching.”

“People watching?” He could hardly contain himself about the phone call, but he opened his menu as well and reviewed the selections. “What caught your eye?”

“Before
you
came in?”

Kellen’s head jerked up, and Chloe’s lips curved in a teasing way. Teasing or not, Kellen was hit so hard by the words he almost forgot about Frank Simpson.

“Do you see that older couple over there?” Chloe continued, her tone quiet and conspiratorial. She glanced toward a table not far away from their window seat at The Palm Restaurant. “He just handed her a rose and a present. I think it’s their anniversary, or her birthday or something. He kissed her hand, and she blushed.” Chloe shook her head, returning her focus to the menu. “That long together, and she blushed. I want a man who still treats me like a princess and still makes me blush when I’m in my golden years.”

Unsettled by that chain of thought, Kellen wanted to change the direction of this conversation—quickly. “I don’t blame you.” He pulled out his cell phone. “I’ve got something brewing, by the way.”

“Oh?”

He nodded, studying his contact list as he scrolled through names and numbers. “What’s your schedule like for late Monday afternoon?”

Chloe shrugged. “I have to be at Iridescence, but not until six o’clock or so. Why?”

“Good deal. Hang on a second.” Kellen activated his desired call, and then focused on her, letting his grin and eagerness shine through. “Frank, it’s Kellen…um-hmm…yeah, with almost thirty minutes to spare. We’re on. Four o’clock Monday…yep…see you then.”

Chloe’s eyes widened when she absorbed his side of the conversation—and its implications. He ended the call, and she clamped a hand across her mouth. Her hand dropped weakly. “You can’t possibly be serious,” she murmured.

“I’m not the one who’s serious. Frank Simpson is.”

“Don’t tease.”

Kellen snickered. “I’m not, Chloe. He called me almost immediately after receiving your demo.”

Their server approached. While they placed an order for surf and turf and Caesar salad, Kellen noticed the way Chloe steadied herself and absorbed the shock of the news. As lunch progressed, they shared plans and strategy for the meeting. The more they relaxed over a delicious, leisurely meal, the more they laughed. The more they laughed, the closer they became. In a natural evolution, their conversation strayed from strict work boundaries to personal questions and getting to know one another outside the parameters of being a singer and an agent. Doorways to the personal, and to deeper knowledge of one another, slowly swung open.

“Tell me about your wife. I noticed her picture on your desk when we met at your office.” Wearing an expectant expression, with no pretense or guile, she opened up Kellen’s own version of Pandora’s Box.

Kellen forced panic aside. Discussing Juliet…with Chloe…would
not
be an optimal direction for this luncheon. “She’s…everything.” Kellen shrugged, looking into the near distance. “She’s beautiful. Inside and out.”

Silence rode in. “I noticed that in the photo. Somehow, I’d expect nothing less.” Chloe’s smile bloomed, and she settled her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her folded hands. The direct impact of her eyes robbed him of breath. “How long have you been married?”

“Almost nine years.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Nine years is impressive?”

“Sadly, yes. In this day and age anything over five years has become long-term commitment.”

He could tell she was only half joking. Kellen shook his head, and didn’t buy into her lighthearted tone. “I don’t see it that way. Talk to me about impressive and long-term once we’ve hit the forty- or fifty-year mark—maybe like that couple you were watching at the next table.
That’s
impressive.”

Chloe regarded him in silence for a moment. She picked up her fork but didn’t start eating again right away. “Your wife is a lucky lady. And
you’re
lucky.” Chloe stopped pushing the food around and settled back in her chair. “I’m on the dating wheel, and I have to tell you, it’s nothing short of crazy and disheartening.”

“I don’t envy you having to deal with it, but I can’t imagine you having difficulties. You’re successful, you’re attractive, and you live in a world full of interesting people and ample opportunities.”

“Yes, Kellen—
very
interesting people.” With an arched brow and a pointed look, she let those words, and their meaning, settle in between them.

Prickles of pleasure, and fear, danced along his skin. Kellen reared back and lifted his hands. “Come on. Seriously.”

“First of all I am serious, but you’re a perfect case in point. You’re handsome, charming, and interesting—but you’re married. Others I’ve met are, say, freshly broken up with a girlfriend, or I find out they’re pursuing me out of a misplaced sense of fame and the glamour of being with a singer. Then there are the ones who are simply too shallow to look beyond outward packaging to what lies beneath.” She shrugged. “Like I said. Crazy.”