Read Feverish (Bullet #3) for Free Online Page B

and introduced himself. All he knew was he could feel
heat and fire and electricity…something he hadn’t felt in a very,
very long time.
     

 
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    EMILY HADN’T QUITE known what to expect
walking into her interview for the position of Personal Assistant
to the rock musician. The house was big and beautiful, with a
well-cared-for yard in an upscale neighborhood. The woman who
answered the door introduced herself as Mary Daily. She was a
short, slightly overweight woman with dark hair and eyes and a
subtle smile, but she seemed quite friendly. Because Emily was
applying to be a personal assistant to a rock musician, she had
expected a rock musician to answer the door.
    She realized immediately her prejudices,
though. Who was to say this woman wasn’t the musician? Then again,
if the person she would be working with could afford an assistant,
he or she could also afford to have someone around to open the
door.
    When she walked in the kitchen following
Mary, though, she knew immediately that she was looking at the rock
star when he stood up. The guy in front of her had long brown
hair—as long as hers—and unending tattoos on both arms that
disappeared under the sleeves of his shirt. He had a winning smile
underlined with sexy snake bite piercings and the sweetest little
soul patch under his lip. Wow. Could she work for someone like this
who would be quite distracting?
    And then she realized she recognized him.
Holy crap! This guy was Jet, the guitarist from Last Five Seconds.
He smiled at her and for a second she couldn’t find her breath.
Fortunately, he did the talking. “Hi, I’m Clay Smith,” he said. She
hadn’t ever heard him speak before, because—even though she loved
rock and metal music—she didn’t follow bands closely enough to
catch interviews or award shows or anything like that. Bryce was
totally not into her music, so she listened to it when he wasn’t
around, and she’d taken down the posters of rock bands from off her
bedroom walls a few months after they’d started dating and he’d
expressed his distaste. So Jet’s (or Clay—she’d have to get used to
that)…his voice took her by surprise. He was soft spoken and almost
quiet, not what she had expected out of someone who wielded an axe
like she knew he could. She liked his voice. It took her off guard,
especially since Bryce could be loud and intimidating with his
voice sometimes. This man’s voice was unassuming. It was nice. It
was almost funny, because the lead singer of his band could scream
with the best of them, and the guy had a raspy, deep voice that
could be guttural and even scary sometimes.
    She took a deep breath and composed herself,
putting out her hand to shake his. Her grip had been something
she’d worked on perfecting for years. She’d known, going into
business for a living, that she’d have to have a strong handshake,
one that was as firm as a man’s. By the same token, she wouldn’t
want to crush other people’s hands with her own. Fortunately, she
rarely got rattled anymore, so she no longer had to carry around a
tissue in her hands to keep them from getting clammy and gross. The
older she got, the more confident she felt, the less her palms
would sweat. And she’d learned over the past couple of years that
sometimes faking confidence was just as good as having it deep
down. Her body (hands included) had learned to respond.
    No, her problem now was making sure she
wasn’t so confident she scared men off. Sometimes, she wouldn’t
care, like if a guy was hitting on her at a bar. A potential boss,
however, could be a problem, so she didn’t want to come on too
strong. So she took his hand and shook back.
    She managed to keep her smile steady, because
inside she turned into a mess. This guy…wow. He was knocking her
down. He was gorgeous up close, one of those men who made her feel
wobbly in the knees, warm in her girlie parts, and dizzy. He was
the kind of guy who could take her on a