That night, Damon took Brenna to three small clubs, all of them on the southern outskirts of town. Two featured guys who played guitar and sang, and the third a duo—a guy on piano and his wife, who belted out pop songs. None of the acts had sent anything to Damon, but all had been recommended to him. “I meet people, I ask them to keep an eye out and let me know when they hear something they like,” he’d explained on the cab ride to the first place. His leads for new music, he’d told her, came through everyone from club owners to bartenders and bouncers.

Although she didn’t say it, she had to admit her surprise at what a socially intense job this was. She’d known Damon moved among jetsetters, but now she was finding out she was supposed to get friendly with club owners and bartenders, too? She liked meeting people, but she’d never been overly outgoing, so she feared this part of the job might be a challenge. Her stomach churned a little at the thought, yet like a lot of things over the past couple of days, she just pushed it aside for now.

As it turned out, none of the performers they went to see that evening particularly caught their attention or had a sound they felt worthy of pursuing. And in truth, she wasn’t really into listening to music tonight. Oh, she still would have recognized something fabulous if she’d heard it, but she spent most of the evening just wanting to get back to the hotel with Damon.

After fooling around in the pool earlier, they’d been just about to head up to Damon’s room to slake their lust—when his cell phone had rung and he’d ended up talking for a long while with Blue Night artist Jane Wyndham, an up-and-coming folk singer. And the afternoon had gotten away from them.

And now, just like at the pool, he continued to make her promises. Really alluring ones. Where he was going to touch her. Exactly how. He promised it was going to be slow, and thorough. “Last night was hot,” he said as they found a table at the last club, “but it was like a meal eaten way too fast—just makes you want more. And today at the pool, that was a tease, an appetizer. Made me damn hungry, babe.”

And then he slid easily into work mode, telling her what each of the acts they’d seen tonight had lacked.

At first, she found the way he was able to flow from sex to work and back again amusing—she could tell he loved both with equal passion. But as the night passed, she discovered it actually turned her on. It made clear to her that his whole life was a meshing of music and sex and sin. He didn’t hold anything back, keep anything under wraps—he put his every thought and desire out there on the table, and she found his candor utterly arousing.

Although something in that made her wonder…If he could discuss music and sex almost simultaneously, could it have somehow created confusion and contributed to having women accuse him of sexual bribery?

“Can I ask you a question?” she said as they stepped into another cab, heading back to the Venetian.

“Sure, babe.” He paused to give the cabbie their destination, then turned to her. “What’s up?”

She hoped he wouldn’t hate her for asking, but suddenly she burned to know. “What happened with Claire Starr?”

Damon failed to look surprised by the question, but his answer sounded a little intense. “Meaning did I fuck her? Yeah. And did she want it? Yeah. And did it have anything to do with giving her a deal? Nope.”

“Are you mad at me for asking?”

He shook his head. “After all, I guess it’s obvious that something did go on with her.” Claire’s accusations had been featured on Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollywood, not to mention the article in People magazine.

“I believed you when you told me it was all lies,” Brenna felt eager to assure him, “but I guess I was just curious…if her story was strictly about getting money out of Blue Night—or something more. Like if it’s possible she just somehow…misunderstood what happened between you.”

He sighed. “There might have been a misunderstanding, but it had nothing to do with her record deal. We spent a week together in Seattle—I discovered her on a scouting trip like this one, and we hooked up. We had fun, but I considered it over after that—only she went a little Fatal Attraction on me. No boiled bunnies, but she didn’t like taking no for an answer. I think that, combined with the label dropping her, turned her even more feral than usual. She’s not a nice person, Brenna. I should have seen that sooner.”

Brenna nodded in the dark confines of the cab. His voice had calmed now, and she spoke softly. “Thank you. For telling me.”

He squeezed her thigh, bared by her denim miniskirt, then spoke more playfully. “Let that be a lesson to you, young Brenna. Don’t screw the acts. It can come back to bite you in the ass.”

“I don’t plan on it. But then again…I didn’t exactly plan on sleeping with you, either.” Even if Kelly had been sure it was destiny. “So I guess you never know where things are going to lead.”

His look bordered somewhere between teasing and arrogant. “The difference between me and all the other guys you might sleep with in this business is…I’m the nice one.”

She tilted her head. “So every other man in the music industry is pure evil and out to get me?”

His gaze dropped to her breasts, concealed in a clingy halter top. “Pure evil? Likely. Out to get you, babe? Definitely.”