If Looks Could Kill (Book III Of The Heartbreakers Series)

...Caz could smell her perfume—a whiff of something citrusy—as Brooke shook his hand, then sat across from him, giving him an unintentional shot of cleavage. His gaze had wandered to the spot, hoping for another glimpse. Nick’s knee nudge reminded Caz of his manners, but by that time Caz was way beyond polite. He wanted more than the tease of perfume. He wanted to crawl under the table, shove up her little red skirt, and wedge his face in her crotch. Let her try to keep her composure under the onslaught of his tongue.

She allowed him momentary victory when she slid her gaze away from him and toward the table. Before he could bask in the glory, however, those dark blue eyes locked back on him, daring him to be the first to blink. A cattle prod up the ass would have had less impact. His balls felt the burn in her eyes, yet she had the nerve to sit there, calm and cool, as if nothing had passed between them.

Now she wouldn’t look at him at all. He’d been “dismissed” as she outlined ideas and plans. Oh, she’d spare him a glance from time to time, but Caz knew it was more of an afterthought to ensure he wasn’t “left out.” Rage boiled inside him. More conflicting emotion warred inside his head.

One minute he wanted to grab the back of her neck and force her to look at him and him alone, see him as a man, her man, right before he plundered her mouth in a kiss her clit would feel. The next minute he wanted to step behind her, massage the tension from her shoulders, run his hands down her suit jacket, open those buttons, and cup the treasure guarded within. Her breasts would surge into his hands. He’d nibble her neck, tease the nipples, and show her a pleasure like none she’d known before.

He wanted her at his feet, then he found himself wanting to be at hers. Agony spawned a killer headache and threatened to split his cock in two. How in the hell was he supposed to survive working with this woman? He had to get back some measure of control, had to purge her from his system and his head, once and for all.

“Caz?”

He blinked himself into the here and now at the sound of Nick’s voice. Everyone was looking at him. He was obviously supposed to answer some question. It would have been nice if he knew what. Caz wasn’t about to let Brooke know he’d been distracted.

“Sounds good to me,” he said. His brothers would vote him down no matter what at this point. He might as well agree upfront and save one argument.

Judging from everyone’s puzzled looks, however, Caz suspected his response revealed he didn’t have a clue what was being discussed. He braced himself for Brooke’s sarcastic retort regarding his inattention. Instead, with a flick of her finger, she closed the folder before her.

“Excellent.” The portfolio was next.

The others started closing files, too. What the hell had he agreed to?

Marvin pushed his chair away from the table. “I’ve sent a letter to Howie demanding any and all files, documents, and correspondence regarding Mesquite be turned over to my office by close of business tomorrow. I’ll forward you a copy of that this afternoon.”

“Wonderful.” Brooke turned a smile toward their agent. “Chuck, if you could email me the schedule of appearances and such, that would be great. I can juggle better when I have all the balls.”

A different image clenched Caz’s sac—his testicles perched on the tips of her nails.

“And we’ll send over a status check on where we are on the new album,” Brian added.

“Any rough cuts for me to listen to? Any chance of sitting in on a session?” she asked.

Paul tsked. “We really prefer to smooth out songs before letting anyone hear them. We’ve discovered it really screws with our creative process to share stuff before we’re satisfied with it.”

“Understood.” She gave a nod. “But my intent is not to be critical or tell you how to write your songs. What I’d like to have is a good understanding of your particular creative process. The more familiar I am with all of you, the better I’ll be able to manage. My goal is to be your right hand, your liaison, your gatekeeper, as it were. I definitely don’t want to be up your asses.”

Fuck! Caz shoved away from the table. “Sorry, something I ate.” Oral sex supplanted anal sex in his overloaded brain. No, no, no! He dashed from the room, each step more painful than the last as his erection threatened to erupt...