go.
There are people everywhere, all hurrying around me as I head off in the direction he indicated. My phone buzzes with a message, and I pull it out of my bag to check it.
Michael : Kick ass babe xx
Me : Thanks. Will do, otherwise I’m kicking your ass for getting me into this shit.
Michael : I’m leaving town. Didn’t I tell you?
Me : All good. I can hunt you down.
I shove my phone back in my bag and am still thinking about Michael a couple of minutes later when I spot a familiar face at the end of the corridor I’m in.
What the hell?
Jett?
I do a double take and realise it really is him. He’s watching me with an intensity that sends desire through me. I want him, there’s no denying it.
I walk to where he is. " You requested me?"
His intense stare doesn’t waver as he answers me. "I had to be sure I’d see you again."
I’ve never had a man look at me the way he does. It’s want, need, and hunger all wrapped up in appreciation, and I want to bask in it forever. I never want him to stop looking at me like that. And I sure as hell don’t want him to ever look at any other woman like that. Shit, jealousy has reared its ugly head, and I don’t even have a reason to be jealous. I’m fucked if I ever do, and if I date him, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of reasons.
"Did you think I’d not make good on my promise of a date?"
"Wasn’t taking any chances," he murmurs as his eyes shift to look behind me.
"Hey, Presley," a voice behind me says and I turn my head to find Hunter looking at me.
"Hi, Hunter."
"So, you’re gonna photograph us tonight, huh?" he says.
"It would seem so," I answer him but move my gaze back to Jett. He’s watching me again with that intense look. His body is tense, and he seems to be on edge a little. I’m not sure why.
"Can’t wait to see what you come up with." He gives me a warm smile and lifts his chin at Jett before leaving us.
"Do you really want me to take photos?" I ask Jett, unsure of his intentions.
"Hell, yes. I asked around about you and have heard amazing things about your photography."
"Who’d you ask?" I’m keen to know who recommended me.
"I asked a photographer we’ve worked with before. Shane Nichols. You heard of him?"
"Holy shit! Shane recommended me? He’s one of my inspirations. I love his work." Jett would have no idea what this information means to me. I’m blown away Shane would recommend me, let alone even know who I am.
"Yeah, he did. He said he’s been following your career for awhile now and loves your work. Also said you have a very unique style to your photography."
"You do realise I haven’t done concert photography, don’t you?"
His intense stare finally gives way to that grin of his I’m beginning to love. "Yeah, but seriously, with what I’ve heard about your skills, I’m sure you’ll come up with some amazing photos."
His belief in me is unexpected but appreciated. Hell, when your own husband didn’t have unwavering belief in everything you did, it’s almost mind blowing for someone you’ve just met to show it.
"Thank you," I say softly.
He grabs my hand and begins walking us down the corridor. "Come on, let’s get you set up," he says, and my initiation into his world begins.
* * *
Jett watches me as I survey the stage. We’re standing to the side of it where roadies are busy with the finishing touches to get it ready for tonight. "You’re nervous about this, aren’t you?"
I turn to him. "I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t."
"Why?"
"In the photography I specialise in, I have full control over the models, the lighting, and the angles I can shoot." I motion toward the stage. "With this, I have no control over any of that. There’s also the clutter to take into account."
He seems fascinated with this. "What do you mean by clutter?"
"Things like microphones, stands, cables, amplifiers, scaffolding in the background, lighting rigs… those sorts of things. And then if I’m