Tonight she was getting this job no matter what.

Felicity checked her reflection one last time. She looked perfect. Sexy, professional, but slightly more on the sexy side. Her portfolio was on the kitchen table ready to go, and her shoes were polished black and shiny.

Beth whistled a catcall. “Girl, you look fine. That man won’t know what hit him.”

“I hope so.” How could he just give her the cold shoulder after the kiss they’d shared?

“So what’s this really about: getting the job or getting payback?”

Felicity fidgeted with her dress then glanced at the clock. “Um...both I guess.” Beth arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her and Felicity ducked out of the bedroom. Hugo trotted behind her, hot on her heels as she headed toward the kitchen.

Beth leaned against her stove, arms crossed. “Well if he’s anything like his brother the man must be made to please a woman.”

Felicity blinked. “I haven’t met any of his brothers. I know he has a few. Which one are you talking about?”

Beth’s pupils dilated and her tongue darted across her bottom lip. “Which one? That’d be Lucas Blackmoore as in LBB—the Lucas Blackmoore Band. He’s only all the rage everywhere.” Beth’s eyes grew unfocused, her voice soft. “He has the voice of an angel. I know that sounds stupid but, damn, his voice is a perfect mixture of husky, smooth-rolling tenor that craves your attention. It’s the kind of voice you can’t turn away from. And his songs? He writes it all himself, the lyrics, the music, all of it. This isn’t some every day, run of the mill musician. Lucas Blackmoore is an artist who treats his music like it’s his life’s passion.”

Felicity stared at her friend with wide eyes and a new appreciation for someone’s music she’d never heard before. Seeing Felicity’s gaze, Beth narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side.

“You haven’t heard of him?” She asked it with disbelief as if she was asking Felicity how she could never have heard of the freaking sun.

“Um...well you know me. I’m not the biggest music person.” Felicity cringed as Beth’s eyes bugged. “Hey, you know this about me, and when I do listen to music I prefer the kind without words. Instrumental, classical stuff, you know?”

Beth was shaking her head in what could only be described as massive disappointment. “Why am I your friend, and how come I never knew this about you? I mean seriously, he’s all I ever listen to. All I’ve listened to since Iraq and you’re going to work for his family!”

“I’ll tell you what after I get this job, if I run into Lucas Blackmoore, I’ll get him to sign something for you, okay?”

Beth’s eyes flashed with fear. “No! That’s not necessary, really.”

Felicity frowned. “Why not? You have something against signatures?” She laughed at her own joke but Beth only shook her head.

“No, really don’t bother him. Um,” she ran a hand down her hair then rubbed her hands down her pants.

“Wait are you telling me that you like LBB so much that even the thought that I could get a signature for you is too much to bear?”

Beth grimaced. “Well when you say it like that I sound like a pussy but yes, totally. I don’t want him to know I exist.”

Felicity laughed at her friend’s ridiculous thoughts. “That must mean you’ve had some pretty heavy thoughts about him.”

Beth’s beautiful dark eyes rounded into saucers. “Girl, you have no idea. The man’s voice occupies me nearly everywhere I go. He sings me to sleep. His voice wakes me up in the morning. I listen to him while I drive to work and while I shower. I mean all the time. So I guess you could say I’ve had ‘heavy’ thoughts about him.”

Felicity whistled low under her breath. “Sounds like a serious crush to me.”

“More like hardcore in love.”

Beth said it jokingly but neither of them missed the longing ringing in those words. Felicity didn’t taunt her friend or make fun of her for having a fictional crush on an (apparently) very famous musician.

Instead, she smiled and made a promise. “I’ll get you his signature.”

Beth let out a soft dramatic sigh then pretended to fan herself.

They both burst out laughing and it was then that Felicity’s eyes fell to the clock Beth had been standing in front of.

“Damn! I’m going to be late.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault for carrying on,” Beth said. Then she put on her game face and even her voice hardened. “Okay, grab your shawl and purse, I’ll get your portfolio and meet you out front.”

Felicity raced across her house throwing on her black lacey shawl—really the thing was more decorative than warm, and then snatched up her purse. In less than two minutes she had the house locked up, her car started, and was waving goodbye to Beth.

“Knock ‘em dead,” Beth yelled.

“I plan on it!”

Felicity drove to the most important interview of her life for the second time—the one that could give her a name in the design business—and she was only twenty minutes late.

In the grand scheme of life twenty minutes was not a significant portion of time.

 Felicity knew this.

However, apparently Ian, the Blackmoore’s executive butler (he actually called himself that) thought twenty minutes was akin to two days. For when she pulled up in her dump of car, he’d not withheld his lip curl of disgust nor did he keep from scolding her. Yes, he publically scolded her even as he led her into the house.

“A young woman like you would do well to realize the significance of being interviewed by Lady Blackmoore herself. In fact, if you were smart you would have come prepared and early so as not to make those interviewing you wait for you as if you are important to them when I assure you you...are...not. Now if you’ll follow me.”

Felicity didn’t know whether to laugh or feel deeply embarrassed, but her cheeks burned and she chuckled—just a little which made him turn around on her with astonishment. Felicity didn’t know what to make of it. Had she broken some sacred vampire law she didn’t know about? Was she not allowed to giggle in the Blackmoore house? Perhaps it was expressly forbidden.

His lip curled down into a deep, heavy frown that if he wasn’t careful might become permanent on his dark face. He lifted his chin at her. “At least you dressed better tonight. Perhaps that will bode well for you. For all of our sakes, I hope not.”

Well, that wasn’t a nice thing to say. Sort of. “Hey, I need this job,” Felicity said as she was once again led through the massive mansion. This time, however, the butler didn’t lead her to Dominic’s personal lounge but down a separate, shorter hallway where two large wooden doors stood. One was cracked so she could see light filtering through.

“You may need the job, but the Blackmoores deserve the best. Are you the best?”

Felicity felt the first flames of anger trigger inside her. “Damn right I’m the best. My designs range from interior decorating to exterior decorating to planning lavish dinner parties, balls, galas, rock parties for famous bands, you name it, I’ve done it all.” She had the portfolio to prove it.

And, she was also lying—big time.

Yeah, really.

A year ago she’d fibbed her portfolio. She’d created images using designs of events she’d like to throw but hadn’t actually done. Yet. She also listed that she’d worked under clients that she’d only wished she worked for. Big named clients, too. Why did she do this? Felicity hated to lie, but she’d been unemployed for more than a year and the job before that had barely paid enough to feed Hugo and pay rent. She was only a few months away from being kicked off her lease—which her landlord already warned her he was doing—and she couldn’t pay her bills. Desperation was an ugly thing.