Read an Excerpt
<span style="line-height: 1.6em;">“When are you going to face the fact that you two idiots are made for each other?” Abigail Truman, Julianne Richmond’s assistant asked, sitting next to her in the V.I.P. viewer’s box at the Grammy Awards.</span>
“What are you talking about?”
“You and Cam. The man is purely trying to seduce you with that song.”
Julianne turned her eyes back to the stage. Cameron Justice strummed the guitar sensually, like he would caress a woman’s body. His eyes were glued to hers. The Grammies would never be the same. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s just a song.”
Even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true. Cameron had been giving her signs for months now, which she chose to ignore. Just knowing it made her feel giddy inside, to think someone a young as he could be interested in an old broad like her. When had their relationship turned from singer and promoter to man and woman? She couldn’t deny it. There was something there.
“He’s just a kid.” This was a lie, too. Cameron wasn’t a kid anymore. He had grown into a very handsome man, with all that curly blonde hair and soulful blue eyes. His tall, muscular body was draped in his new stage costume...a pair of tight black pants that rode low on his hips and a skin-tight black athletic shirt that showcased his spectacular abs. He topped it all off with a black leather jacket to give him a bad-boy appearance.
The rest of the band was dressed in similar black and red costumes, but designed differently to fit their personality. They played their instruments behind Cameron, giving him the centre stage spotlight, so he could move around with the microphone and sing to the audience who shouted his name and flashed lighters in his honour. Normally, women would toss their underwear at him while he performed, but this was the Grammies and such shenanigans weren’t allowed.
Abigail rolled her green eyes from behind her glasses. Abigail was younger than her and far too pretty to hide behind the matronly spectacles. Julianne had tried numerous times to talk her into getting contacts, but Abigail refused because she couldn’t stand to put eye drops in her eyes, let alone lenses. She did look pretty, though, in the long black designer gown she chose to wear. It called attention to her curves, but didn’t expose enough cleavage for the paparazzi to call attention to. At least she had taken Julianne’s advice and visited the salon for a new hairdo. Long hair was out, and the hairdresser had given Abigail’s long brown hair a cute bob.
“Don’t give me that. He’s thirty-two and not the same little boy you discovered years ago.”
“What am I going to do with a thirty-two year old?” Turning forty-two had made her a realist.
“The same thing you’d do with a sixty-year-old man, only he won’t need any medication to keep it erect.”
Julianne chuckled. Abigail didn’t beat around the bush when she had something to say.
“Don’t tell me you aren’t interested.”