“I’ll have your balls,” Paul screeched. “You do the job you were hired to do, and you better get Lyric on the damn phone. I’m tired of her flighty, scatterbrained bullshit. She’d better show up on time or it’s going to be your ass in the fire. And there had better be a car to pick me up at the airport!”

“Unless you arrange it, I highly doubt there’ll be one,” Connor said with barely controlled amusement. “Nice talking to you. Have a good day, now.”

Connor blew out his breath as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. This was the most half-assed “business” he’d ever witnessed. The guy in charge of Lyric’s career was a moron and he didn’t give a shit about her. Or what was best for her.

The kitchen was alive with activity. Kane and his men were seated at the table eating a buffet of eggs, bacon, biscuits and bagels. The chef and his two assistants were busy opening and shutting oven doors as the chef barked orders to the woman manning the stove.

“Mr. Malone, what arrangements would you like for Ms. Jones’s breakfast?” the chef asked when he caught sight of Connor.

Connor shrugged. “She’s still sleeping.”

The chef frowned. “Will she be taking breakfast in bed or should I keep her food on the warmer for when she comes down?”

How the hell would he know? He’d never been around such a hyper operation. He was reminded of a bunch of chickens running around with their heads cut off. If this was the way Lyric lived, rushing from one poorly planned event to the next, it was little wonder she looked like she was on the verge of breaking. Hell, he’d already be a permanent resident of the funny farm.

“Fix her a tray. I’ll bring it up to her.”

The chef nodded and then turned to bark another series of orders. Seriously, did this guy not realize he was just cooking for one woman? You’d think he was making meals for the president and his entire Cabinet.

A few minutes later, Connor was presented a tray that looked like something off of one of those home and garden television shows Faith was forever watching. It was hard to tell what was actual food and what was simply presentation.

He snagged a cupcake and stuck it under one of the silver covers on the tray and headed for the stairs. Lyric had plenty of time to make her appointment and he was determined not to rush her. When did the woman ever get a moment to just be? If he were hounded as mercilessly as she was, he’d be in a permanent bad mood. More and more he was beginning to understand what made her tick, and he’d already come to the conclusion that everything around her sucked balls.

He nudged his door open with his foot to see her still asleep on the couch. Quietly he set the tray down on the coffee table and pulled it over to the sofa.

“Lyric,” he said in a low voice. “Wake up. I brought you breakfast.”

She stirred and her eyelids fluttered open. Sleepy blue eyes clouded with faint confusion stared back at him. Then she glanced down and around at her surroundings. Consternation creased her brow and her lips pinched together in a bow.

“What time is it?”

He checked his watch. “Almost ten.”

She sat straight up, her eyes wide. “Oh shit. Shit!” She started to toss aside the covers and bolt from the couch but he put a gentle hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down.

“You’ve got plenty of time. Eat first.”

She glanced at the tray, then back up at him. “I have so much stuff to do today. My manager is flying in. I should probably be there to meet him. Then we have to go over to the stadium and meet with their sound crew.”

Connor shook his head. “No way you’re going into a crowded airport. He’s a big boy. He can get a car and take himself over to the stadium. You don’t have to be there until two, which means we won’t need to leave until one fifteen. Which gives you three hours to relax, eat and get your bearings.”

She looked momentarily struck dumb, as if it honestly hadn’t occurred to her that she didn’t have to be running around freaking out every single minute. Then she smiled. Her eyes twinkled and lit up and it struck him how truly beautiful she was.

Behind the façade. Behind all the posing, the bitchy exterior, the hard-ass act. She was a beautiful, sensitive woman and he was in some deep shit.

“You know what? You’re right. I pay people to handle details. Let them do their job. My job is to show up at two, right?”

He took off the remaining covers and she sighed in appreciation at the pancakes, bacon, eggs and grits. There was also fruit, toast and milk and juice.

“I’m never going to eat all this,” she said, though she eyed it like she’d love to try. “Have you eaten?”

He shook his head.

She sat up and pulled her feet from the end of the couch. Then she patted the space beside her. “Come eat, then. There’s enough to feed the entire security team.”

He sat next to her but was careful to keep a little distance between them. Despite her seeming ease, he could sense her uncertainty. She kept glancing over at him. Just little nervous peeks as if expecting him to bring up the fact she’d slept the entire night in his room after she’d bolted out of bed.

He was content to pretend it hadn’t happened. For now.

The problem was, she looked so damn cute and snuggly that what he really wanted to do was pull her down to the couch and make love to her all over again.

But he wouldn’t stop there. It really made him uncomfortable that beyond making love to her, he had a primitive, chest-thumping, mouthsnarling urge to tie her to his bed and not let her out of his sight for the next year or so.

Yeah, he’d keep that little tidbit to himself. Nothing like making her stalker the more desirable option here.

He was losing his mind—had already lost his mind.

Lyric was wrong for him on every conceivable level, but she just did it for him. Now he couldn’t even give Nathan shit about how head over ass he’d fallen for his wife. The man was done from the moment he’d laid eyes on Julie.

In less than two weeks, Lyric Jones would move on, go back on tour, be the fantasy of every boy and man, and Connor would go back to his job and spend his nights reliving the time he’d held her in his arms as she came apart.

Yep, his fascination with her didn’t make a whole lot of goddamn sense in that light.

“This is really good,” Lyric said around a mouthful. “You should eat.”

Connor stared down at the plate she’d fixed for him and realized he’d yet to take a bite. He wasn’t hungry for food. He was hungry for the petite blue-haired vixen sitting next to him.

To cover the awkwardness between them, he picked up his fork and plate and began eating, though he’d be hard-pressed to tell what exactly he ate. For the first time in his life, the thought of food didn’t appeal. And if that wasn’t a huge sign that he was fucked, he didn’t know what was.

After a while, Lyric laid her fork down and leaned back into the couch. She hugged the blanket to her chest and sighed as her head plopped against the cushion.

“Full?” he asked as he set aside his own plate.

“Mmmm. Yummy.”

“I hope not too full,” he said.

She turned, her stare questioning.

He grinned. “I have a surprise. I think you’ll like it.”

He reached for the saucer and lifted the cover off to reveal the perfectly iced cupcake.

Her eyes lit up and a broad smile curved her lips.

He dipped his finger along the outside edge to capture some of the icing, and then he held it out to Lyric. He smeared just a bit on her soft lips and her tongue immediately came out to lick the sweetness away.

He returned to the cupcake, dipped more of the icing and then smudged a little on her cheek. Her eyes widened in surprise but then half closed to a sleepy, drugged state of awareness when he leaned in to nibble at her frosting-covered skin.

He swept his tongue over the spot and then kissed her cheekbone until all the frosting was gone.

“You’re sweeter than the icing,” he murmured.

She reached over without breaking their gazes, dipped her finger through the cupcake and then spread the sweetness over his lips. A moment later, she swooped forward and captured his mouth against hers.

The warmth of her tongue rasped over his lips, tasting, licking away the sugary treat. He could taste the frosting on her lips as she nibbled at his.

To his surprise, she rose over him and leaned her weight into his body so that he was forced back against the couch. She straddled his lap and dug her knees into the cushions on either side of him.

“Since you pointed out that there’s no reason for me to be in a hurry this morning, I now have plenty of time for dessert,” she murmured.

She fit his hands like her ass was fashioned just for him. He cupped and squeezed through the thin material of her pajama bottoms. Then he pulled her forward just enough that the bulge in the crotch of his jeans was straining up against her pussy.

“Take your shirt off,” he rasped out. “And give me that damn cupcake.”

She laughed and turned, pulling at her shirt with one hand, reaching back for the cupcake with the other.

He ended up helping her, or maybe he was just too impatient. The top came over her head and he tossed it across the room. She held the cupcake up, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she watched him.

He swiped at the frosting, careful to leave plenty still on the cupcake, because damn, his mind was alive with the possibilities. He decorated one puckered nipple with the sweet buttercream icing until the tip was white. His mouth watered but he forced himself to lavish the same attention on her other breast.

She fidgeted and sighed, strained up, but he pulled her back down onto his lap. Her breasts bobbed in front of him like two delectable treats, and he never, ever turned down sugar.

He licked delicately up the curve of her breast, anticipating the point where he reached her straining nipple. She tensed all over and braced her hands on his shoulders. Her fingers dug into his skin as he flicked his tongue over the tip.

His tongue barely brushed across the sensitive peak, and each time he got only a hint of the sweet.

“Connor!” she gasped. “You’re killing me here.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “I think that’s the point.”

She slid one hand up the column of his neck, around to his nape and then into his hair. Her fingers twisted and she pulled impatiently at his head, guiding him back to her breast.

He lapped one more time and then pulled the nipple hard between his teeth, sucking avidly at the frosting. He held her nipple captive and flicked his tongue repeatedly over the point until she twisted and squirmed damn near off his lap.

He loved how demanding she was. Her fingers dug into his head. She wasn’t afraid to show him what she wanted or needed.

He pulled away and her nipple gleamed wet and clean of the frosting. It was rigid, so hard and pointed that he couldn’t resist swiping his tongue over it again.

She sighed and flexed her fingers over his scalp. His erection pushed upward, cradled by the juncture of her legs. It frustrated him that there were so many barriers between them.

As if sensing his irritation, she rose up on her knees and began sliding her bottoms down. She backed off the couch and stood before him as she let the material fall down her legs.

He smiled at the fact that one nipple was still covered with frosting. He licked his lips and she smiled back just before she palmed her breast, cupping it and pushing it upward. Then she leaned down until her nipple was a breath away from his mouth.

She held it just so, offering it to his mouth. He fastened his lips greedily around it, sucking and nibbling as if he were starved. Her breathing ratcheted up and she trembled from head to toe as he pulled strongly with his mouth.

She pulled abruptly away, her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Then she let her gaze drift down his body to the bulge between his legs.

A gleam entered her eyes. One that made him twitchy with anticipation. It was the look of a woman with a plan. A very evil, delicious plan.

He held his breath as she got down on her knees and settled herself between his legs. Then she reached for his fly and pulled at the snaps. The zipper rasped downward and her soft hand gently delved within, finding his cock.

When she reached for the cupcake, he damn near lost his mind. With exacting precision she trailed a finger through the sticky confection and then proceeded to smooth it over his straining erection.