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they’ll agree,” Ali continued, “you’ve sweetened the pot with a big old wad of cash.”
    “They told you?”
    She smiled. “You’re obvious.”
    “And you’re not?” He returned her smile then, leaning back in his chair, silk shirt pulling tight across his chest. “You didn’t sign them last night or you wouldn’t be here now.” Frowning, he added, “Why are you here, Ali?”
    “I came to warn you.”
    “Out of the goodness of your heart?”
    Dropping her gaze to the hem of her skirt, Ali rolled a bit of the fabric between thumb and forefinger.
    “Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
    “Not.”
    “Okay fine.” She looked up then, matching the challenge in his eyes. “I don’t want to see you get hurt by anyone but me.”
    He looked startled, then he threw back his head and laughed.
    White teeth. Long, lean line of throat. And his laugh still sent shivers down her spine. Ali stomped down hard on her reaction.
    “All right,” he said at last, “what did you want to warn me about?”
    “I know what they are, what the Noman brothers are, and you can’t control them. They’re out of your league.”
    “You can’t control them and they’re out of your league.” Tom’s gesture covered the room, the gold records on the wall, and managed somehow to include all the resources the Vital Music Group could access. “What makes you think Mike can’t bring a couple of good ol’ boys to their knees?”
    Because these aren’t the kind of guys to take it up the ass for a fat paycheck and a chance to throw their weight around. But she trapped the words behind a smile because they had nothing to do with the Noman brothers and everything to do with Tom walking away. From Bedford Entertainment. From her.
    Tom’s smile tightened and she knew he could read her thoughts on her face. “You want proof, Ali?”
    he asked, pushing the chair back and standing. “You want proof we’ve won this round?” Leaning forward, he scrawled an address and a date on a piece of paper, straightened, and offered it with a mocking flourish. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”
    She slid off the edge of the desk and just barely stopped herself from slapping the paper out of his hand. This was exactly what she’d expected him to do, exactly what she’d needed him to do if she was going to have any chance of stopping Mike from using the sirens’ power to further his own agenda. If, to be completely honest, she was going to have any chance of signing the band herself. It was just…no matter how much she knew it had to happen, she hated being patronized. Hated it more when Tom acted as the extension of Mike’s so very superior and entirely infuriating attitude.
    “Mike will control the Noman brothers, Ali, and when he does you’re going to want to be on his good side. I’m giving you that chance.”

    Fortunately, he’d know something was up if she made no protest. Her smile had edges. “So, out of the goodness of your heart, you’re graciously allowing me to play the sycophant?”
    “I am graciously not throwing you out of here on your ass,” he growled, moving closer.
    Too close.
    And suddenly, it was that afternoon in her office all over again. But this time, there was no Mike to call him to heel and no Glen to tell her this was a bad idea.
    Ali knew it was a bad idea and, from the way Tom’s eyes narrowed, he knew it too.
    One of them had to acknowledge that and back away.
    “Ali…”
    “Shut up.” As memory replayed the sirens’ song, she decided she’d had all she could take of wanting and not having. Wrapping her hands around his face, she rose up on her toes, and sucked the curve of scarred lip into her mouth, biting it none too gently, then lapping at with the tip of her tongue. He closed his hands around her wrists and pushed her away.
    But he didn’t let her go. His cheeks were flushed and he looked as though he was silently weighing alternatives.
    Ali looked up at him