“He saw the video you recently released and wasn’t disappointed,” Kinga explained.
Wow, that was a hell of a backhanded compliment. “Most people thought I nailed it.”
“My grandfather has higher standards than most,” Kinga replied, her smile a little flippant. She waved her words away, looking impatient. “Anyway, he saw that your fans are desperate for your return to performing—” Her expression suggested that she couldn’t fathom why and the thought made him smile. He had no idea why her dismissive attitude amused him, but it did. “—and he figured it would be a publicity coup to have you perform at the ball.”
“But you don’t feel that way.”
She widened her eyes, trying and failing to look innocent. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
His mouth twitched as he tried not to smile.
It took everything not to give her a big-ass, ‘got you’, smile. “Then,darlin’, you have a huge problem because your grandfather has already offered me the gig.
“But I never sign anything or agree to take on a project before meeting the people with whom I’ll be working,” he added.
She worked hard to contain her shock, but she recovered quickly, determination quickly replacing the annoyance in her eyes. “I’d prefer to book someone with a little less charisma and a great deal more reliability,” she informed him, her voice six degrees cooler.
He heard her unspoken words...Selfish, childish, out-of-control.
The words, and the implication, so often repeated in the press, hit him like another gut punch. His amusement faded and it took all his effort to keep his expression genial. He wasn’t the type to spill his soul, but again he felt the urge to explain himself. To explain that the person she saw wasn’t who he was. He wanted to tell her that the bad boy act was just that, an act, and he was so damn sick of being seen as problematic. All he wanted to do was write music, perform, be himself again.
Why her and why now? She was prim, buttoned-up, haughty and direct, but Griff had the uncomfortable sensation she was the only one who could get him to spill his secrets.
Despite his attraction to her, Griff knew he should get up and walk—hell, run—away. He’d find another way to stage his comeback. He instinctively knew this woman was dangerous, to his heart and his mind.
But he also needed this gig, not for the money—he had enough for ten lifetimes—but because music was what he did, and being a performer was who he was. He’d been someone else for so long...that he wanted this opportunity to be himself.
He’d sacrificed his reputation, his music and his career for his sister and her son, and now that she was stronger, he was ready to come back. Performing at the Ryder International charity ball was a good move for him, a classy move. A good, tasteful, move.
Suddenly, horribly, he was no longer convinced that he held the upper hand here.
Not because she was being difficult and not because she wasn’t enthusiastic about him performing but because...
Crap. He ran a hand over his face.
...Because something about this woman resonated with him. She was a melody he had to put lyrics to, an unwritten song hovering on the edge of his subconscious.
She was a new instrument he’d yet to master, a song he’d yet to sing. A score that needed to be notated...
Damn. He was in serious trouble here.