His gaze at her was too pointed, and the gleam in his eyes way too damn knowing. She instantly decided not to like him. He seemed too cocky and insufferable, despite his damn looks, which were way too magical. He was like an incompatible combination: a male model who disdained the runway. Ross had a scruffier, manlier look than any male model she could think of. And he’d probably spit on people who chose such a vain profession. But oh. The undeniable perfection of his looks belonged on the runway.
Jody expected he had blushing, tittering women following him all the time.
Stop. She wanted to push her hand in his face and simply shove him back to snap him out of his delusions. She needed to ease her racing heart and stop blushing so much. The sudden bubbling inside her stomach from nerves and hormones for God’s sake. He was just a hot guy.
Sigh. She irrefutably failed herself just now.
Clearing her throat before adding a stern, serious expression to her face, she said, “Ross Karahan?”
“Yeah.” The images of silk and raw steel flashed repeatedly in her brain. That was how his voice felt when it slid over her skin and stole her breath, thrilling her right down to her bones. Even her skin seemed to shudder. He was way too smooth. Maybe he sang too. It was not listed on his tersely short biography or any list of his talents.
“I’m Jody Lassiter, the liaison for Zenith’s Promise.”
“Were you just crawling through the crowd?”
She cringed. He ignored her polite, authoritative introduction. Ugh. Clearing her throat, she gave him a stern look. “I… I simply had to make my way through,” she replied as she waved the sign with his name in front of his eyes. “How else could you see this?”
“You were pretty hard to miss as well as the big guy that was following you.”
“Oh, him…” Jody sniffed, lifting her chin and sharpening her tone with the clipped professionalism she often practiced before she answered, “He’s just a bodyguard to protect me as I tried to make my way over here. Now. Do you have any bags besides those?”
“Nope.”
“Just the carry-ons? You do realize you were allowed to bring as much equipment as you needed? Our intent is for you to relocate over here. Are you planning to have the rest of your stuff shipped soon?”
He lifted his two bags and retorted, “All I own in the world is right here.”
Her brow furrowed. Huh. Not so unusual to deal with; lots of musicians were all but broke. The stereotypes had some foundation. But usually, they valued their instruments as their most prized possessions. Jody once carried a cello as big as herself out of the airport. She also lugged plenty of drum sets and steel guitars that weighed twice her body mass. Dramatic? Yes, but she was well acquainted with heavy stuff.
“You don’t have anything else to your name? No drums?”
He shrugged, lifting his eyebrows halfway up before he replied, “I can play whatever.”
Okay. That was very unusual. Carefree musicians who sailed through life and relationships without any sense of destination were definitely not unusual to find in the music industry, but someone who was so casual about what he played? No, not in her experience. Not any of the people who applied to be part of this program. She pressed her teeth together and held her tongue without commenting. She could only wonder what he was doing here with her if he truly didn’t care? He could play whatever?
Ugh. Was his ego so enormous that he thought of himself already as the star? Jody had a sinking feeling. The look, the attitude, the phony act of nonchalance and apathy. Ick. Nothing appealed about him to her now. Those who were destined to become famous or well-known because of their talent were a definite type.
Jody had already dealt with the quiet, deep artistic types that refused to sell out. They made their art for themselves and disdained commercial consumption of it.
Or the kinds who were so insecure despite the endless praise they might receive; yet they never believed in themselves or trusted what others claimed they heard and witnessed. That type might end tragically since they never believed that their creations were true manifestations of what they actually wanted to portray.
She also met plenty of desperate, sad, depressed but creative people.
Of course, the industry also attracted the opposite types who were already cocky, carefree and convinced