Rock Hard Love Read online

  “I think I’m going nuts,” I remarked as I finished my story.

  “You don’t like guys like James Turner. He doesn’t wear sweaters, he has facial hair, he’s not a virgin,” Josie joked, well aware of my inexperience and my penchant for nice, safe men.

  “Very funny but I’m serious. I’ve never felt like that before. Ever. Either way, I’m not going out with him. It’s against company policy and you’re right, he’s not my type,” I told he but even I didn’t believe it. Josie cocked an eyebrow and then laughed.

  “Whatever, girl. You can give him my number if you don’t want him,” she said. I laughed and felt better for having spilled my guts. My momentary lapse of reason and judgment was probably just that, temporary insanity. I joined Josie out on the sofa and we watched television for an hour or so before I headed off to bed. I’d worked hard all day and I was mentally fatigued. Thankfully, sleep came quickly and my earlier fantasies did not make an appearance. Apparently, purging to Josie had gotten James out of my system.

  ~~~

  The next morning I showed up for work as usual and delved right into my routine, Sunny 107, coffee and then I checked my emails. I had none since I’d left so late the previous night and I was only Peter’s assistant, but I could dream, right? I began editing some meeting minutes for Peter when I felt someone behind me. I turned and found Victoria filling the doorway of my cubicle. “Come with me, Miss Navarro,” was all she said as she turned and walked towards her office. I swallowed hard and as I left my little cubicle, I looked back as if I was seeing it for the last time. I was sure she wanted to see me about my outburst in the meeting.

  Victoria walked around and sat behind her glass and metal desk, her long legs crossed and her dress that probably cost more than my car smoothed over her lithe body. She wore those old-fashioned horn rimmed glasses and had her blonde hair up in a bun giving her a severe look. She was beautiful but in an ice queen meets uptight librarian kind of way. I just knew this was the end. I took a seat and prepared for the worst, retribution for contradicting her in front of a client. I was already writing my resume in my head.

  “Well, looks like you made quite an impression yesterday,” she said and I cocked my head not expecting her to begin like that. “Mr. Turner called me last night and insisted that you represent him from this point forward. I tried to tell him you’re merely an assistant and haven’t the skills or the backbone to represent him and his band effectively, but he made it clear that he didn’t care what I had to say. What’s new? Looks like you’re moving up to the big leagues,” she told me with that fake smile she wore to pretend she didn’t want to cut your heart out and eat it.

  I gasped and sat utterly speechless before Victoria. She smirked and said, “Feeling in over your head? You should be. Mr. Turner is quite the handful. Nevertheless, hear this, Miss Navarro. You fuck this up and you’ll never work in this business again. That’s not a threat, that’s a promise. Good luck with your new client. Oh, and by the way, I’ve told Peter that he is forbidden to assist you in anyway. You’re on your own. Have a nice day, Miss Navarro, and get out of my office.”

  I stood and walked back to my cubicle in shock. I nearly collapsed before I made it to my chair as reality hit me. I felt sick. I was terrified. Why couldn’t she have just fired me? James was in my head again, this time standing over me as his eyes bored into my soul. Whether he wanted to have sex with me or he was displeased with my representation of his band, I couldn’t tell even though it was my own daydream. Why would he do this? Why would he put me in a situation where I was sure to fail miserably? Life wasn’t perfect but it wasn’t bad either. What the hell had happened to my little world? What did I do to deserve this?

  ~3~

  As I sat in my cubicle, feeling sorry for myself and wondering how even to begin representing Battery, some cheery pop song, Katie Perry I think, came on the radio. I shut it off, not really feeling Sunny 107 in the Morning suddenly. As I considered what to do first, including the possibility of quitting my job, the phone rang. I picked it up out of habit, “Roland Talent. This is Simone.”

  “Good morning, little girl,” came the deep, resonate voice of James Turner. “Congratulations. I hear you’ve been promoted,” he said. I felt my blood boil. I was usually shy and quiet, which made my outburst during yesterday’s meeting all the more confusing, but I had a temper. It took a lot to unleash my inner bitch and James just did it.

  “Why are you doing this to me? I’m not an agent. I’m barely a functioning assistant. I can’t represent you and your band. On top of that, Peter isn’t even allowed to help me. Is this because I wouldn’t go to dinner? Are you trying to ruin me?” I asked in a hushed but stern voice. A moment of silence followed and then laughter. What the heck was so funny about my career going down in flames before it even started?

  “Oh no, you’re just what I need. Listen to you. I definitely want you by my side,” James said suggestively and then added belatedly, “in negotiations.” His intent was clear, however. The vague sexual suggestion had me flustered again like after the meeting the day before. My anger melted and gave way to something else. I was still hot but this feeling was much more pleasurable and decidedly frightening.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked trying to ignore the moistness between my thighs.

  “I like your style. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to the Fraulein like that. Even Peter defers to her more often than not,” James said. That was true. Peter was a good agent, but he wasn’t as assertive as he could be. He represented his clients well, but it was more about finding middle ground for him than dominating the opposition. He was a sweet guy, a family man and the kind of guy I hoped to marry someday. At least that was the plan before I met James Turner. Now I wasn’t sure what I wanted or why I was suddenly reconsidering my entire life.

  “I usually don’t do that. I’m not sure what came over me yesterday. I guess I should thank you. If you didn’t put me in this position, Victoria probably would have fired me. So, thank you for delaying the inevitable,” I said trying to sound snarky but I’m not sure it worked.

  “Well, now I can have dinner with you. I’ll pick you up at your office at five. We’ve got a lot to discuss,” James said. Great! Now I had to face him in person and I knew what that would do to me. It was already happening. I had to make a concerted effort to stop my mind from wandering where it shouldn’t.

  “Is that what this is about? Dinner and dessert? Is this just all some ploy to get me into bed?” I asked, my temper not fully gone just yet.

  “No, that’s not all this is about. I honestly think you’ll represent the band well,” James replied. I chose to ignore his subtle implication that this was about getting me into bed and focused on my new job.

  “Fine, I guess I don’t have much choice. You’re my client now,” I said in resignation.

  “See you at five, little girl,” James said seemingly pleased with himself. I was about to ask him not to call me that, but the phone went dead. I hung up and took a deep breath. It didn’t help much. My panties were likely soaked and my stomach felt as if I was going to throw up. I hadn’t been this flustered since, well ever. I closed my eyes and fought the urge to cry, confused now more than ever. Why did he put me in this situation? How did this happen? Most of all though, I wondered why I couldn’t stop imagining the man looming over me, both of us naked as he made love to me? Why did I find such an uncivilized man so exciting?

  I worked, finding it even harder to get into a rhythm today than I did the day before. I was still working on Peter’s stuff when he invited me to lunch so we could talk. I went reluctantly. On top of it all, I felt like I’d stolen a client from him even though it wasn’t my choice. He took me downstairs to the deli on the first floor of our building and we both ordered a chicken salad sandwich and matzo ball soup. Sal, a retired firefighter from New York, ran the deli. It was a dream of his since he was a boy, but he just couldn’t take the New York winters anymore so he wound up here in
Southern California.

  “I’m sorry Peter,” was all I said as we found a table.

  “For what?” he asked as if he honestly had no idea what I was talking about.

  “For stealing James and Battery away,” I said and Peter laughed.

  “I know you had nothing to do with it. This is just more of Victoria’s games. I’m not sure why James asked for you to represent the band, but I can guess. Victoria sees it as an opportunity to rid herself of you and punish me for some reason. She doesn’t like you very much,” Peter said stating the obvious.

  “You think? What is her problem, anyway?” I asked. Peter sighed and he looked sad.

  “Samuel Roland was a magnificent man. He loved doing what he did and really cared about his clients and they all loved him back. So did his employees. He spoiled his kids too, especially his eldest daughter. Unfortunately, Victoria took it all for granted. He called her princess and I’m pretty sure she took that literally. She thinks she’s the center of the universe and she is more concerned about being in control than she is about her clients and what they want,” Peter explained.

  “That’s too bad. So why does she hate me?” I asked.

  “Who knows? You’re pretty, young and smart. Maybe she sees you as some kind of threat,” Peter offered. I didn’t know how I could be a threat, but Victoria didn’t really need a reason. I think she got off on messing with people.

  “So why did James ask for me? To get at Victoria? Am I some pawn?” I inquired since Peter seemed to have some secret knowledge.

  “I don’t think James would do that. I think he’s got a crush on you,” Peter replied. I blushed and looked away. Even with Peter, I couldn’t get away from James and the way he made me feel.

  I’m glad you’re not angry. I know you can’t help me in representing Battery. I’m doomed,” I said, changing the subject.

  “Simone, you’ll do fine. This job is as much about taking care of our clients and their egos as it is about negotiating and representing them. You’ve got the right mix of talent to pull it off. You proved yesterday that you’ve got a mean streak when you shut down Victoria. It took all I had not to stand up and applaud. I wish I had more of that in me,” Peter said. I got up, went to Peter and hugged him.

  “Thanks, but I’m not sure why I did that,” I told him. I wasn’t about to tell Peter about James and the way he made me feel, but I wasn’t even sure if that’s why I called out Victoria.

  “It was the right thing to do. And if you need help, you can call me at home. Fuck Victoria,” Peter said and I laughed. He didn’t cuss often. He wasn’t a Quaker or anything, but he had a wife and kids and I think he was just out of the habit or maybe he was just getting more comfortable around me.

  “Thanks. You’re the greatest,” I said and Peter seemed to puff up a little. As we ate, he gave me some general advice and told me a little about James so I’d know what to expect. Apparently, James wasn’t the partier he used to be, but he still was a little wild. He’d been married and divorced but he didn’t have any kids. He liked to get his way and usually did. I should have been wary, but Peter’s assessment did nothing to quench my confusing desire for him. In fact, it might have made it worse.

  The afternoon went by far too quickly and as five o’clock approached, I found myself dreading my dinner meeting with James even as my body seemed to anticipate seeing him again. Nerves and sexual tension left me feeling unbalanced and shaky. I’m sure the gallon of coffee I’d consumed during the day in the hopes of taking comfort in the heavenly drink and the routine didn’t help. Probably not the best idea, I know. Then I got a call at four-fifty-seven.

  “Miss Navarro? You have a client waiting in reception,” came the ominous announcement. I thanked the receptionist and took a deep, cleansing breath as I hung up the phone. I stood and unconsciously checked my clothing. A gray tweed pencil skirt, a white blouse and black pumps that were more comfortable than they appeared. Then I looked in the little mirror on the wall next to the door. My hair looked fine after a little mussing but I wasn’t satisfied with my lip-gloss, so I applied some more. Was I meeting a client or going on a date I wondered as I primped. I didn’t want to answer that question.

  I found James in the lobby standing and chatting up the receptionist. I hadn’t seen his butt yesterday but now as he leaned over the reception counter, his black jeans showed his tight, defined ass in all its glory. I fought the urge to let my mind wander and instead caught his attention, surprised at the sharp feeling of jealousy as he talked to the girl behind the counter.

  “Simone, you look smokin’. Do you always dress like that? Damn,” James said and I tried my best not to blush but was wildly unsuccessful. The blonde bimbo of the week behind the reception counter scowled as James turned his attention to me instead of her. “You ready?” James asked as he came towards me. I nodded as he approached and I felt as if he was about to kiss me but instead his hand found the small of my back and he led me out of the reception area to the elevators.

  “You like meat?” he asked abruptly as the elevator doors opened.

  “Huh?” I asked not quite sure where that came from.

  “Meat, steak, burgers, ribs, you know, meat,” James clarified.

  “Oh, yeah. I’m from Idaho and not the uppity part. Our house was surrounded by cattle pastures,” I explained.

  “Cool, Benny has a place near Stanley. It’s nice up there. Steaks it is,” James said as the doors closed. He turned to face me and I instinctively backed against the side of the elevator car to put some distance between us. It didn’t work and James came way to close for comfort, so close I could detect his amazing musky, masculine aroma. James, in turn, inhaled deeply as he towered over me seemingly savoring my essence. He didn’t say a word as he stood over me and sighed. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. James smiled down at me, a devilish grin, and then led me from the elevator with his hand on the small of my back again. I swear I don’t know how my knees didn’t give out as we walked through the lobby.

  ~4~

  “Is that yours?” I asked as we exited the building. Parked out front in the loading zone was the biggest pickup truck I’d ever seen and I’m from Idaho.

  “Like it?” James asked like a proud father.

  “Um, how do I get into it?” I asked. It was a Dodge Ram, with four doors and a long bed - as I said, I’m from Idaho - with tires that nearly came to my bust line. It was all black, the wheels, the paint, the windows, everything. It wasn’t the lack of door handles that worried me; it was getting into the cab with my tight skirt without aide of a ladder. James pulled the keys to the behemoth from his jeans and pressed a button on the remote. The door clicked and swung open on its own as a set of steps unfolded from underneath the cab. James stood next to the steps and offered me his hand.

  I admit I was impressed. Trucks were a big deal in Idaho and James’ pickup would have been the envy of just about every man in my small town under the age of thirty-five. I took his hand and carefully placed a foot on the bottom step and then the other foot on the next. James used his other hand to help me in, placing it on my waist. I sighed as his strong hands touched me and I felt weak again. I looked at him, his eyes nearly level with mine even though I sat in his lifted truck. What was it about him, a man that by all accounts I should have had nothing but disdain for, that drew me to him and made me feel so vulnerable and excited in his presence?

  James closed the door and walked around the pickup. I luxuriated in the fine leather seats, each with a small guitar embroidered into the backrest. As I looked around, I noticed the back window had a life-sized guitar etched into the glass and the truck had speakers crammed into every open spot throughout the interior. I didn’t know it then, but that etched guitar was James’ favorite, the same one he’d been playing since he was in high school.

  James climbed in, not bothering to use the steps, and closed his door. He fired up the engine, a diesel I was sure by the rumble and noise, and said, “Buckle up, lit
tle girl.”

  I did and after James buckled his own seat belt, he slammed the truck into gear and off we went. I couldn’t help but smile as we towered over the downtown traffic. This reminded me of home and high school. Almost every boy had a pickup, as did my dad. I remembered riding around with dad and with my only boyfriend in their trucks and it always made me feel special, like I was somehow more important riding above everything in a truck. However, none of them was like James’ truck.

  “This is amazing, James,” I told him barely able to keep the wonder out of my voice. He smirked and with an empty lane in front of us, he gunned the engine and threw me back in my seat. I squealed and laughed despite myself as he let the truck coast down the road. That one moment represented the way I felt about James. I was thrilled, scared and my blood pumped through my veins in a rush of excitement.

  “She’s my baby,” James said proudly and pat the dash as if the truck was alive. I smiled at this big, rough and tumble rock star petting his truck and calling it his baby. We took Sunset Boulevard - yes, that Sunset Boulevard - towards West Hollywood. James told me he had a steakhouse up there and I assumed he meant a favorite of his. “You mind if we listen to some music?” James asked.

  I should have known better but I told him that I didn’t mind. It was his truck, after all. He turned on the stereo. Growling vocals and shrieking guitars suddenly filled the cab and I could feel the resounding bass in my chest. I hated this stuff, but he was the client so I endured it. After a while I asked, “Is this Battery?”

  “What?” James shouted back.

  “Is this battery?!” I shouted again. James looked at me again as if he didn’t hear so I asked one more time. “Is this…,” I began to yell, enunciating each syllable, only to have James turn off the stereo leaving me yelling, “…Battery?” in a silent cab. Nice! I was thankful he shut the noise off and I repeated at normal volume, “Is this Battery?”