Professional as in not swooning in his arms. Like I am right this very second.

Awesome.

My face probably matches my crimson lip stain right about now.

“Um, Mr. Wade, now would probably be an excellent time to put me down.” I chuckle nervously.

“You got it, Red.” He complies just in time for my boss to round the corner.

“Mr. Martin,” I say breathlessly. “I was just going to show Mr. Wade the new display. We’ll have a scaled version at each show in the VIP meet-and-greet area and I thought it would be a good idea to—”

“Sure. Great,” Alexander Martin cuts me off, as he tends to do. His uncle Bennett is the original founder of Midnight Bay, but Alex took over around the time I was hired for my internship. He’s barely thirty years old, but he’s a “time is money” type of guy and I can count on one hand the number of sentences I’ve actually finished in his presence. Jase Wade’s hand still resting on the small of my back is not something I ever intended to happen in my boss’s presence, however. “There’s been a few adjustments to the tour and I want to be sure that we’re prepared. New print materials will be sent to your office this week, Miss Breeland. I just spoke with . . .”

Mr. Martin is still talking. His squared, clean-shaven jaw is still moving, as is his mouth. But I have no idea what he’s saying because despite the fact that I’ve taken an entire step to my left, I’m still within Wade’s reach. I know this because his fingertips are still lightly brushing my lower back. Feels like he’s turned my spine into a lightning rod, so that’s a tad distracting. Glancing over at his chiseled face, I see that he’s showing no signs of being nearly as affected as I am by the contact. Clearly I need to get laid. It’s been . . . a while.

I take a deep breath and press my lips together, nodding so that Mr. Martin doesn’t realize I’ve completely lost my grip on reality.

“ . . . Walker has a solid social media presence and is fairly well-known here in Texas. So you’ll need to plan meet-and-greets for him as well. Nothing as extensive as Mr. Wade’s, of course.” Mr. Martin finishes and winks at Jase.

“You got it. I’m on it.”

I have no idea what I’m on.

“Great.” My boss grins at me with approval, then turns to Jase Wade. “Come on, Jase. I’ll introduce you to my uncle; he’s retired but he’s visiting the distillery today, and we’ll get my assistant to organize that fishing trip.”

Oh, the good ol’ boys network. How nice it must be to have a penis working in your favor. I can’t remember the last time one did me any favors. My gaze dips involuntarily to the bulge in Wade’s Wranglers.

Dear God. Stop yourself, Breeland.

But I stop myself a split second too late because when I look up, Jase’s eyes are on mine. He quirks his mouth and raises a brow. I can practically hear him asking if I see something I like.

“I’ll see you in Denver next week,” I say quickly, hoping to dispel the awkwardness of my flushed cheeks.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a tip of his hat. “And by the way, I really enjoyed the display.” He nods to the tower of liquor bottles behind me but I’m pretty sure that’s not all he’s referring to.

He walks away leaving me speechless in his wake. Sweet mother he’s doing those damn jeans a favor. If my boss ever catches me losing my composure like this around such a high-profile person we’re partnering with, I have been told in no uncertain terms, I will be fired before I can wipe the drool from my chin. Since my dad passed when I was in high school, my mom and I have been on our own. She took out a second mortgage to help me get through college, and I am not going to screw up a chance at my dream career for sex in tight jeans.

I repeat: I am not going to throw away my amazing job for orgasms. No matter how long it’s been since I’ve had one that involved another person being in the vicinity.

So I take a deep breath and ignore the fact that Jase Wade just had his arms around me, that he smelled like expensive sins and whiskey, and that I haven’t been held by anyone in over a year. Paying no attention to my still-racing pulse and sweaty palms, I return my attention to the display and use my phone to snap a few shots of it for the company website.

I’ve got this. I’m cool, calm, collected. Totally together. The picture of professionalism.

That is, until Jase Wade gives me a lingering look full of dark promises before winking at me on his way out. I force a completely awkward smile and give him two thumbs up.

I just gave Jase freaking Wade two thumbs up. Once he’s out of sight, I cover my face with my hands, including my two humiliating thumbs, and groan.

I have so got to get laid. Preferably by someone who won’t cost me my job.

3 | Dallas

“HEY, SUPERSTAR,” MY MANAGER GREETS ME AT THE FAIRMONT hotel. She lowers the phone she was texting on when the car I was in pulled up. “Just got the official word from your agent. He heard back from Midnight Bay. We’re all set for a meet-and-greet in Denver. You ready for this, baby? You’re about to be the next big thing.”

I still bristle a little at her overly familiar terms of endearment, but I’ve heard her on the phone with her other clients and I know I’m not the only one she uses them on.

“Sounds great.”

The Kickin’ Up Crazy tour is kicking off in Denver, but we’re doing some press first in Nashville. From there we’ll zigzag across the country—Wade on his luxury bus and the rest of us on something a little more modest. Some of the guys in the band grumbled about it, but I couldn’t care less. It’s sure the hell a step up from EmmyLou, the Chevy Express van that me, my sister, Dixie, and my best friend, Gavin, hauled our equipment and ourselves in.

My chest constricts just thinking about Leaving Amarillo. Not the physical act of actually leaving it—that part I was ready for. I just didn’t expect to leave without the other two members of my band.

“You seem a little off, Dallas,” Mandy says as we head to the hotel restaurant where we’re having a quick meeting before I get to crash in my room. “You need to focus on why you’re here. This is about you and your dream. Whatever else is on your mind, you need to have it handled before tomorrow morning.”

“Got it. I’m good. Just a little tired. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” And a good thorough fucking would help, I think but don’t say out loud. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since I’ve gotten laid. In reality it’s only been a few weeks since my wild night with Deidre or maybe it was Debra, a waitress I hooked up with in Atlanta. I’m kind of pissed that I was drunk at the time and can’t exactly remember if I was worth a shit or not. Ah well. One-offs are kind of like cold pizza. Not spectacular or worth writing home about, but still enjoyable so not a total waste of time.

While we eat, Mandy says something else about the meeting with the tour sponsors tomorrow and staying focused, but I keep checking my phone to see if Dixie has texted an update on her location and I’m so exhausted my vision is blurring. My manager has a consistent habit of reminding me to keep my eyes on the prize and stop stressing out over what my little sister is up to.

The check comes and Mandy slips a shiny black credit card inside the padfolio before handing it back to the waiter. Before I can thank her, or her management company, I suppose, for dinner, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Retrieving it, I see a photo my sister sent from some cheese monument in God knows where. After that comes one of her grinning like a maniac beside a giant ball of twine. The fuck?

I’m mildly concerned that she’s having some sort of weird grief-induced breakdown, but every time I talk to her she assures me that she’s fine.

I start to text her a message to call me and let me know her exact coordinates—yes, I’m serious—when Mandy reaches out and places her perfectly manicured nails over the screen of my phone.