up. She wasn’t subtle, and her bright, teasing voice wasn’t either.
“Well, hi there. Who are you?”
I pasted on a polite smile. “Troy Osbourne. I’ve got an appointment with Erika.” Was it cool I was so informal? “Ms. Graham,” I amended.
The girl’s smile hung. She’d expected her friendly tone to warm me up and was confused it hadn’t.
Movement to the side caught my attention. Erika appeared from one of the doorways, and my body heated just at the sight of her. I’d been inside her less than twenty-four hours ago and I was still so fucking horny for her.
Be professional, Troy.
She had her hair pulled back, and although I loved her hair down, she looked great like this too. She had on a black sleeveless shirt that showed off her toned arms and was cut low to hint at her amazing rack, and white pants that clung to her thighs. Fuck, I wanted to be between them again.
Any hope of keeping it professional went out the window. If I had my way, I’d push her inside her office, shut the door, and make her moan my name. But this was business and as usual, Erika was oblivious to the torch I carried for her. She crossed her arms and leaned casually against the door frame.
“Hey, Troy,” she said. “Did you find the place okay?”
I shifted the guitar bag from one hand to the other. “Yeah,” I said. “Other than someone parked a Toyota Yaris out front like a jerk.”
She pressed her fingers to her mouth, and I didn’t understand she’d done it to hide her smile until the girl abruptly stood and grabbed her purse off her desk.
“Oh, I didn’t realize.” The girl sounded mortified. “I’ll go move it right now.”
She disappeared out the door, and when it banged shut behind her—
“Well, shit,” I said. “Now I feel bad.”
“Don’t.” Erika’s eyebrow arched up. “Charlotte parks like that almost every day. She’s gotten three tickets, but I guess it hasn’t fazed her because she keeps doing it.” Her focus dropped down to my hand holding the case, and then she nodded toward the stairs at the back of the room. “C’mon. The studio is upstairs.”
There was a nervous flutter in my stomach. Seriously? Butterflies? I swallowed thickly and followed her up the steps.
We turned the corner at the top, and once I stared down the long hallway, it was obvious which room I’d be recording in. There was a red light over the door and everything. But Erika bypassed it, turning into a room beside the studio, and flipped on the lights.
The mix room had a cool vibe to it. The walls were red, the furniture black, and mounted over the desk full of mixing equipment was a huge TV monitor displaying Warbler’s logo. Even though the room was carpeted, there was a red patterned rug in front of the leather couch. It looked comfortable but was currently occupied by a guitar case.
This room was a place of business, but it felt cozy and inviting. The small fireplace on the back wall had probably been functional when this old house was built, but now it was purely decorative. A framed black and white photograph of Stella hung over the mantle. She had on headphones and a microphone in front of her, and she looked much younger than she was now. This must have been taken when she was first starting out.
The wall opposite the fireplace had a door and a window, allowing me to see into the recording studio. It was also painted red, and black sound dampening panels bowed away from the walls. The floor was hardwood, but a microphone stood on top of a square rug in the center of the space. Otherwise, the room was empty and . . . waiting.
My cold sweat got worse. This was, like, legit.
I motioned toward the desk and the mixing console with all its knobs and sliders. “You know how to use that?”
She gave a half smile. “I know enough to be dangerous. But don’t worry, we’ll trust this session to a professional. Once you’re ready to go, I’ll call Ardy in and he’ll handle it.” She walked to the couch and reached for the handle of the hard-sided guitar case that was worn and scuffed. “Sorry, I’ll get this out of your way. You can put your stuff here.”
There’d been a black book on top the guitar, and when she moved the case to make room for me, the book tumbled to