The Complete Rockstar Series

“Before that we weren’t documenting anything we received, just throwing them away. They were mostly letters, gifts…” Ross trails off.

“But no involvement by law enforcement?”

My eyes bounce back and forth between the two men.

Ross sighs. “Not until the New York incident.” When Mitch scowls, a look that makes him look even more dangerous and a hell of a lot sexier, Ross elaborates. “Do you know how many crazy fans are out there? Hell, Adam gets over a hundred bizarre gifts and letters a week. That’s just the strange ones. Plus, keeping this out of the media is important to the record label.”

Mitch nods. “I understand. I’m not judging. I’m just trying to get a feel for what I’ll be dealing with. That includes how long law enforcement has been checking into this guy.”

“Not long,” I whisper, surprised to hear myself speak. I’m used to being discussed as if I’m not in the room. It comes with the job—decisions made for you without your input.

Two sets of eyes focus on me and I feel my cheeks blaze hot. That intense grey stare has me squirming, and this time it’s not from embarrassment. Another rush of heat ripples down my spine. I run my hands through my hair to catch the beads of sweat that have popped up on my temples.

Mitch opens his mouth to say something then snaps it shut. He blinks a few times before speaking. “Tell me how this began, Gavin. What you’ve noticed personally.”

“Shit, how long do you have?” I scoff.

The corner of Mitch’s mouth quirks up. “I have time.” He puts two fingers into the collar of his shirt and tugs gently.

The subtle motion brings images of Mitch tearing off his clothes, sending another wave of sizzling need through me. Nodding, I take a sip

of water to cool down the desire inspired by Mitch’s proximity.

Ross’ cell phone rings, startling me. I fumble with the glass, nearly spilling it.

“Damn. Sorry.”

This time, Mitch smiles. My eyes fixate on that mouth as his lips part to reveal two rows of perfect teeth.

“I have to take this,” Ross confesses. He glances over. “You okay to do this without me?”

No. I’m not okay. You’re going to leave me in a room with one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen while I’m a nervous, blundering wreck.

That’s what I’m thinking. What I say isn’t even close.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Ross stares at Mitch. “I’ll be back to discuss the specifics of your contract.”

“No problem,” Mitch agrees. Leaning back in his chair, he crosses one ankle over his knee.

Holy—

Now he’s given me a direct view of his crotch, hugged tight by those tailored grey slacks. There’s a lot to look at. Jesus. If what I’m seeing isn’t an illusion, he is hung. I don’t realize that I’m staring right at Mitch’s dick until his leg drops and he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“It’s okay to be nervous.”

Blinking, I look up to see those deep gunmetal eyes waiting patiently for me to respond.

“Ummmm, I’m not nervous.”

I am, but not for the reasons you think.

Mitch puts his large hands back up on the table, his eye twitching again. “Do you mind if I get a drink?” He gestures towards the tray Donna set out.

“Not at all.”

“So,” he continues as he removes his jacket, hangs it over his chair, and circles the table. “Tell me about the letters.”