Damon led Brenna up the hall, hand in hand, as Blush’s lead singer’s smoky voice resonated over the club’s loudspeakers. “We’re gonna take a little break, but don’t go anywhere ’cause we’re just gettin’ started.” He headed toward the stage, wanting to intercept the band and get out of there.

Damn, Brenna had gotten him hot, fast. So much for not fucking the girl he was training. Hell, he guessed that was just the kind of guy he was—he thought life was too short not to indulge in pleasure so long as it didn’t hurt anybody. And even if this seemed like a bad idea, maybe it wasn’t. Since she wasn’t a potential Blue Night artist, surely no harm would come to him or anyone else if they had some dirty fun together.

Fortunately, he came face-to-face with the Blush singer as she descended the few steps at the side of the stage. He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Damon Andros of Blue Night Records.”

The saucy blonde, so slick and cool up to now, suddenly looked like she would faint, her eyes widening and jaw dropping. “Oh God. You are.”

“This is my associate, Brenna Cayton, and we’ve been enjoying the show tonight.” So much that we just did each other in a closet.

Damon knew the mood the band set was only part of what had drawn him to Brenna tonight, but he also couldn’t deny that Blush’s particular style of entertainment had pushed their mutual attraction along at a breakneck pace.

As the singer, Candy Lark, introduced herself and the rest of the band, Damon watched all the girls’ eyes light up, then wasted no time telling them he wanted to sign them. A few of the band members jumped up and down, squealing their excitement, while Candy Lark did her best to act professional and thank him for coming to see them. Passing her a business card on which he’d already written his room number at the Venetian, he set up a breakfast meeting the next morning in the suite.

He still loved that part of the job—giving someone a chance to make their dreams come true. He’d been trained—and he had to train Brenna, as well—to remember this was a business, about money and profits, but he thought it was important to keep your heart in the job, too.

Five minutes later, he slid into a cab next to Brenna, glad to be alone with her again, although he wasn’t sure why. Granted, there’d been no time for pillow talk after their frantic coupling, but he wasn’t especially a pillow talk sort of guy. Maybe it was the sexy little smile she wore in the dark confines of the taxi that made him enjoy just being with her.

“Why the smile?” he asked as the cab sped away from Fetish. “Excited about offering the contract?”

She bit her lip and looked cute as hell, even in the shadowy light, and kept her answer low so it would be just between the two of them. “Oh, that was fun, but the truth is…I’m just thinking about the fact that I’m not wearing panties.”

His groin tightened, and he couldn’t hold in a small grin. “You smile when you’re not wearing panties?”

“I’ve never not worn them before,” she confided.

It surprised him a little. Because she’d seemed so carefree about the whole thing. And despite their discussion last night about keeping sex private, tonight she’d seemed like a girl who…well, who might have done it in a closet once or twice before. “Ever?” he asked.

“Ever.”

He tilted his head, still trying to get to the bottom of what he now knew was a naughty smile. “And…?”

She weighed her answer, looking strangely young and girlish and pleased with herself. “It makes me feel…wild. Sexy. Free.”

Damn, there it was—that genuine part of her again. That part of her so real he could almost taste it. And he liked it. A lot. In all his thirty-five years, many of them spent enjoying women, he wasn’t sure he’d ever met anyone quite like her.

Without planning it, he leaned over in the cab to kiss her. “Stay in my room tonight,” he said low in her ear.

Pulling back to look at him, she cast a playful smile. “I have to warn you, that drink—on top of the wine I had with dinner—knocked me for a loop. I might fall fast asleep.”

“That’s okay. As long as you’re naked.”