Runaway Rockstar Read online

  Runaway Rockstar

  Mina Carter

  New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

  Copyright © 2012 by Mina Carter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Also by Mina Carter

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Men the world over wanted to fuck Zette Matthews. The outrageously curvy singer had a figure to tempt a saint and a voice that said dirty things. Things that got a guy hot and hard just hearing her sing in that come-to-bed voice. Jarrett Jensen, JJ to his friends, was one of them. With one exception. He intended to make those fantasies a reality.

  He stood by the window in his expansive office, hands shoved carelessly in his pockets. The sharp suit he wore concealed a surprisingly muscled frame, well for a businessman anyway. Especially one like JJ. A rolling tsunami of sheer willpower, he appeared to exist solely in the confines of boardrooms and business meetings, moving from one to the next as he propelled Jensen Industries to the top of the corporate ladder.

  Somewhere, somehow though, he found time to exercise. The hotels he chose to stay in always had a top notch gym and a pool so he could siphon off some of the energy that coursed through him daily. It had gotten to the point years before where he’d learnt to force himself into exercise, in an attempt to exhaust his body and, hopefully, quell the endless activity of his agile mind.

  It didn’t work often though. He just added his daily workout to his schedule and kept up the punishing routine that had gotten him to where he was today. CEO of JI. There was even a rumour floating around the Jensen head offices that JJ had ceased to need sleep a couple of years ago, like some strange executive version of a vampire that existed solely on a diet of coffee and sheer adrenalin.

  It wasn’t quite accurate but some days it seemed near enough to the truth. Especially when he could almost smell the closure of a deal or a takeover…pulling back-to-back meetings and all-nighters with an ease that gave him an almost God-like reputation among the executives in the company. One that was built on his own merits, not just because he was the Old Man’s grandson. His lips quirked at that thought; it had always been a battle of wills between them. Even now that battle extended beyond the grave, Charles Jensen still trying to rule JJ’s life. Well, no more. JJ was about to wrest that power from him for good. The smile broadened as he looked out onto the London skyline, enjoying a rare moment of solitude and actual inactivity.

  Time to reflect.

  Time to savour his triumph as he killed two birds with one stone; getting one over on the old man who’d ruled his orphaned grandson’s life with a rod of iron and one on the woman who’d scorned and rejected him all those years ago. Granted she’d been little more than a child then, barely eighteen, but there were some things a man didn’t forget and a rejection from a gold-digger was one of them.

  His hazel eyes glinted in satisfaction as he looked out the window. His attention wasn’t on the view, fantastic as it was. He was used to stunning views like this from every office and apartment he called his own. Luxuries like that were just some of the perks of money.

  But the view he wanted to see wasn’t from a window. Behind him, spread open on the expansive desk was a file containing the usual legal mumbo-jumbo he navigated on a day-to-day basis. But in the middle of it all lay the centre spread for one of the expensive glossy magazines. The main picture was of Zette spread across a lush bed in one of her trademark corsets, her hair spread around her like a cloak and a sexy look in her come-hither eyes. That was the view JJ wanted to see, in his own bed, and one he was intent on making a reality very, very soon.

  Provided of course he got through this meeting alive. He had no doubt Zette would be pissed when she stormed through those doors, intent on giving him a right dressing down…he paused, corrected himself…no, intent on giving the head of Anders Entertainment a right dressing down. His lips curved in a wicked little smile. At this moment she had no idea that the man she was expecting to see and JJ were one and the same.

  If she did, he was fairly sure she’d refuse to show for the meeting she’d finally managed to get with him, browbeating the receptionist on the front desk and running the gauntlet with various people until she reached his PA. Or at least the woman they’d assigned as his PA after his swift and unpublicized takeover of Anders Entertainment two weeks ago. His deliberately unpublicized takeover.

  He had to admire her persistence and determination though. It couldn’t have been easy to get this morning’s appointment, especially when he’d forbidden his new staff to agree to one until he gave the order. He had to be sure he had everything set up before he sprung the trap. He straightened as a car pulled into the entrance below, disappearing under the canopy outside reception. She was here.

  JJ smiled, his voice soft in the large office. “Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly.”

  She’d arrived.

  Zette took a deep breath, mentally composing herself for the battle ahead as the limo door opened. She hated riding in it, preferring to drive herself. Except in London. She just didn’t have the aggressive nature to cope with driving in London, getting flustered too easily, so the limo it had to be. She slid to the edge of the seat, reaching for the slim leather file next to her, the heavy silver bangle on her wrist peeking out from under her cuff for a second as she slid from the vehicle with well-practised ease.

  Rockstar 101, she thought with a smile as she realised she’d clenched her knees together, crossing them on automatic as though she was wearing a micro miniskirt with a horde of photographers all eager to discover what colour her panties were for tomorrow's headline photo. She shuddered, well used to that sort of human piranha; glad that today at least, she could get out of a vehicle without getting blinded by flashes. She stood, smiling at the chauffeur as he got the door for her. They’d have been disappointed today anyway; Zette’s voluptuous figure was encased in a rather severe business suit.

  It was an effort to fit into the world she had to deal with today to save her Midsummer Night’s Dream concert from being a ‘failed before it got started’ effort rather than the raging success she wanted it to be. Knew it was going to be.

  Everyone liked a charity concert, it made them feel good to be doing something for a good cause and she’d put a lot of effort into making sure that all the money collected would be going to the various chosen causes. With the line-up she had organised, it should be a resounding success. It couldn’t possibly be anything else.

  The trouble was, with the suit on and her mass of blonde hair scraped back into a businesslike pleat, she felt completely out of place. Like a young girl playing dress up with her mother’s clothing and pretending to be all grown up.

  She sighed and tugged at the jacket, smoothing it over her ample hips and wishing she was dressed in her usual comfortable jeans. Her fingers brushed the steel bones of the corset she wore, almost hidden under the severe jacket and she smiled. Her confidence returned at the small reminder of who she was, adding an extra sassy sway to her walk as she headed into the reception hall.

  “Zette Matthews, I have an appointment at eleven with Mr. Anders,” she announced to the young blonde on reception, hiding a smile at the younger woman’s double take as she heard Zette’s distinctive smoky, sultry voice and connected it with the rather petite woman who stood in front of her.

/>   Zette ignored the look, used to it by now. People always seemed to expect her to be taller.

  Probably because her stage persona was so much larger than life, her singing voice on the lusty side of powerful.

  “Oh yes! Welcome to Anders Entertainment, Ms. Matthews! We didn’t expect to see you just yet,” she admitted, explaining some of her surprise to see Zette, glancing at the clock on the opposite wall.

  It read five to eleven.

  Zette sighed mentally. Along with expecting her to be taller there were also those who expected her to be the prima-donna stereotype just because she was a celebrity. Continually late, temper tantrums, etc. It was a misconception that totally got on Zette’s nerves. She never had been the sulky rock-chick type and she didn’t intend to start any time soon.

  She hid her irritation well and smiled. “I always like to be early for an appointment,” she admitted. “I know I get cranky if I’m waiting on someone, doesn’t seem fair to expect them to wait for me.”

  “Of course, of course. If you’ll just take a seat for a moment, I’ll call up to Mr. Je… I mean Mr. Anders’s assistant. Can I get you anything whilst you wait? Tea, coffee…” She trailed off, looking at Zette expectantly, the receptionist patter honed to perfection.

  “No, thank you, I’m good.” Zette replied on automatic, moving over to take a seat and admiring the view from the wall to wall windows overlooking a rather nice landscaped garden. She liked gardening. After the hectic whirlwind her life became sometimes it was nice to grub around in the dirt weeding. Plants didn’t care who or what she was, they didn’t ask questions or flash cameras at her and sometimes she needed that tranquillity.

  She really didn’t expect to be kept waiting long. To do that would be incredibly rude, not to mention could damage future relations, she mused. Although she was here today to discuss a charity, aka non-profit, event, one for which Anders Entertainment had pledged the use of Swithland Park, there was also the fact that Zette was an artist in her own right. One who toured frequently. Tours that were not charity events and would also need venues.

  She just hoped this guy remembered that, and she could use that bit of leverage to her advantage. Tucking the file with her papers in by her thigh she checked covertly around, to see if anyone was watching her. The two receptionists were intent on the screens in front of them and the rest of the entrance lobby was empty. Zette felt safe to wriggle a little, using her jacket to cover as she rearranged her corset a little to display her cleavage to its best advantage.

  Never pass up a little va-va-voom, you never knew when it might come in handy. Of course, she didn’t expect this Anders to be some handsome young stud but hopefully he wouldn’t be that far into his dotage that she couldn’t indulge in a little light-hearted flirtation. A flirtation that, with the solid facts and figures her team had prepared, would hopefully ease whatever worries he had over hosting Midsummer Night’s Dream at Swithland.

  She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, Zette didn’t realise she had company until someone, a male someone, cleared their throat at her side. Startled Zette looked up, her eyes colliding with a pair of striking hazel-green ones.

  Hazel-green eyes she recognised.

  “Hello Zette,” JJ said quietly. “Long time, no see.”

  She closed her eyes on a shiver, that familiar smooth-as-silk voice sliding over her senses like a caress.

  Instantly she was eighteen again and in the grip of her first desperate love, for her step cousin JJ. She’d had a crush on him since her mother had married Robert Jensen and she’d been introduced to her new family, the quiet plump daughter of her social butterfly mother, Ariadne. He’d been fourteen to her eleven and seemed so grown up, so confident. Quite unlike the shy Zette. She’d watched him for years, secretly admiring him, wishing he’d notice her. See her as a woman rather than an irritating kid sister. Finally, at her eighteenth birthday party, he had. It had been a magical evening, she’d felt so grown up in the evening dress her mother had picked out for her. And JJ had obviously noticed, catching her hand and pulling her away from the party into the shadows by the boathouse.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he admitted, a moment before his lips claimed hers in a gentle kiss that blew her innocent, naive mind. It was the perfect kiss and should have been the perfect end to the perfect evening.

  It had been an end all right, but nothing like a perfect one. Not from Zette’s point of view anyway. An end she’d have never seen coming, not in a million years. Their perfect kiss had marked the beginning of the end and a huge change in Zette’s life. A change that had left her heartbroken and alone.

  She’d left her bag. Dropped on the seat by the boathouse as JJ had kissed her, she hadn’t realised it was gone until she’d returned to her room, filled with pink and white frills more suited to a six year old than a young woman. She stood in the middle of the room, nibbling her lower lip. A bad habit when she was stressed or nervous. She had to go and look for it. It had been a gift, one of her birthday presents and she didn’t want to lose it. Besides if anyone had found it, they’d know she’d been down near the boathouse which could have led to all sorts of questions she didn’t want to answer. Particularly as the only person that stayed down there was JJ. No, she had to go and fetch it.

  Decision made, she crept back out, checking through the debris of the now finished party, retracing her steps until she made her way down to the boathouse. Her steps were lighter, her very spirit buoyed up by the possibility of seeing JJ again. Hopefully he’d still be awake…would he kiss her again? She hoped so. She might even manage to surprise him getting ready for bed, without his shirt on. This time, with what had passed between them, she could look her fill instead of looking away or burying her nose in a book like she usually did around the pool.

  No more sneaky glances and covert looks! JJ loved her, he had to. Otherwise he wouldn’t have kissed her like that, would he? With so much tenderness and restrained passion. Innocent though she was, some feminine part of her recognised a man who was holding himself in check. The thought of JJ holding himself in check thrilled her. She wanted to break through his restraint, taste the passion she knew first-hand was hiding there. Her first lover.

  “Lush armful ain’t she? Bit plump for my tastes but good for a roll in the hay.” Her stepfather’s voice broke through her daydreams, stopping her in her tracks in the shadows.

  The voice had come from the open French doors at the side of the boathouse. Zette crept forwards, her recovered bag in her hands. Robert must have come down to check on JJ after the party. For some reason his uncle always seemed to think JJ needed the ‘guidance of a father’ after having lost both parents in a skiing accident when he was just six. So Robert had set himself up in that role, despite the fact that he had no kids of his own.

  She edged toward the pool of light until she could see in through the doors. JJ and his uncle were sprawled in the leather easy chairs, heavy whiskey tumblers filled with the amber liquid in their hands. JJ shrugged, knocking back the contents of his glass in a careless swallow, the powerful muscles of his throat working.

  “She’s okay, a pretty little thing,” he replied offhand, a reply that froze Zette’s heart in her chest. She was okay? Just okay? What about the kiss earlier, was that just okay? Hadn’t it meant anything to him?

  Robert’s laugh twisted the knife that stabbed her gut. “That’s my boy, love ‘em and leave ‘em! Mind you, if the daughter’s half as good as the mother in the sack, I might have to look at the younger model myself!”

  Zette felt sick, her eyes filling with tears as she waited for JJ to tell his uncle it wasn’t like that, waited for him to defend her as surely he must. Tell Robert they were in love.

  He didn’t, just shrugging again in a careless way that tore at Zette’s heart, cracking it. His next words shattered it beyond repair. “I’ll be gone in a week anyway,” he said in a bored tone, “she’s just a diversion, something to fill my time this week.”

 
; The memory faded and Zette blinked, bringing herself back to the present with a bump. She covered her lapse with a slow downward sweep of her lashes. Her eyes, so expressive, had always been her downfall. There was no way she wanted him to know how much he affected her.

  It brought it all back, everything she’d tried so hard to bury for so long. She’d known it wouldn’t work of course. These things had to be faced, dealt with. But at the time she’d been too young, too inexperienced to know how to deal with it. She’d had her heart broken, her mother’s marriage had failed and she’d been left to fend for herself in London after her mother had headed off to the Med to find herself a new husband.

  Survival had taken precedence and she’d pushed it all to the back of her mind, fooling herself that time healed all wounds. It didn’t. The mere sound of his voice was enough to rip away all the layers she’d plastered over her wounds like a child pulling the scab away from a nasty graze and revealing the tender flesh beneath.

  She was pissed, that much JJ could tell. The slight stiffening of her body told him she’d recognised his voice even before she looked up and speared him with those eyes. Not the sultry chocolate brown of the pictures in the various magazines upstairs but cold and hard. It took a lot to make brown eyes go cold like that but he wasn’t surprised. No doubt he was the last person she expected, wanted to see.

  “JJ.” She inclined her head a touch in greeting as she stood, moving with an elegant grace he didn’t remember her possessing as a teenager. If anything she’d been awkward, as though unsure in her own skin. She didn’t offer her hand, which irked him a little. Now that she was here, in front of him, he wanted to touch her again. Found he needed to touch her, needed to feel her satin soft skin under his.