Every Little Piece of Him Read online

  He'd spent his thirties bagging every woman that caught his eye and finding out they wanted an emotional connection that he found impossible. Now at forty-five years old, he'd become pickier. He wasn't looking for a relationship and preferred casually hooking up and spending all his energy on the Lair.

  Iliana's voice seduced him. He wanted to see where the feelings she brought out in him would go.

  Chapter 2

  Iliana slipped the piece of paper into her back pocket of her jeans. It wasn't the first time someone in the audience summoned her for fun after a show.

  She picked up the wine bottle and appraised the label. Although, it was the first time someone had given her a two-thousand-dollar bottle of Onus One and a note attached with one single word that intrigued her more than the expense of the wine.

  Please.

  "Hey, Il? Are you ready?" Craig, her guitarist, held open the back door.

  Along with Brad, her drummer, the three of them stayed in her motorhome during their booking at Stone Lair. She lowered the wine bottle to her side.

  "Go ahead and have your fun. I'm going to hang around here for a bit." Her skin warmed under Craig's judgment. He'd witnessed the wine and note delivered to her. Usually, she headed back to the RV to unwind after their set while the guys returned to whatever bar or casino they'd played in for a few beers to let loose before they wandered back to fall into different beds inside the motorhome to sleep most of the next day away.

  "Are you sure?" Craig frowned, looking around the empty room.

  "I'm a big girl," she said softly. "You go on and enjoy the rest of the night. Keep Brad out of trouble."

  "I'll try my damnedest." Craig chuckled and let the door swing shut.

  Although all three of them were single, they'd never hooked up during the last two years they'd performed together. She caressed her thumb against the bottle when a side door opened.

  She turned and recognized the manager who'd booked her latest gig.

  "I'm here to escort you." Mac stayed by the door.

  Her stomach fluttered. She walked across the room, blaming the odd feelings going through her on not eating before the show.

  "What's the gentleman's name?" She followed him out of the room and into the loud atmosphere of Stone Lair.

  Mac turned his head. His lips moved, but the soundtrack playing and the conversations in the bar made it impossible to hear him.

  The manager stopped outside a door, keyed in a code, and motioned her inside. She stepped into a lit stairwell. Silence surrounded her. She looked over her shoulder and found herself alone and the door shut.

  She swallowed, suddenly thinking it wasn't a good idea to meet the man who'd summoned her away from the others.

  "Iliana," said a deep masculine voice.

  She turned toward the stairs and raised her gaze. At the top of the steps a man with longish black hair, a whiskered jawline she suspected he shaved that way to create a shadow rather than out of laziness, gazed down at her. He wore a pair of black jeans and a black flannel buttoned shirt that spanned tightly from shoulder to shoulder that mysteriously beckoned her.

  Solid black. Rugged. Noticeable.

  She bet his eyes were black too, though she couldn't tell from that far of a distance.

  Placing her foot on the bottom step, she stopped. "You know my name, but I don't know yours."

  His amusement over her question came out as a huff of air, and she got goosebumps.

  "Anders Stone."

  She took another step higher, noticing his thighs. His jeans molded his muscles. "The owner?"

  "Yes. Do you plan on asking twenty questions?" He lowered his gaze to the stairs. "Or, twelve if you're planning to ask me one for every step you take."

  Feeling challenged, she grabbed on to the rail and sauntered up. Instead of moving back when she reached the landing, he remained in front of her. On even ground, he towered over her. The top of her head barely came to his chin.

  He slipped the bottle of wine out of her hand. "I'll put this in the cooler, and we can sit and get to know each other while it chills."

  He walked deeper down the hallway and looked over his shoulder at her. "Have you tried Onus One before?"

  "No." She looked at the pictures lining the wall depicting Stone Lair in various building phases to keep from looking at his ass—which was nice and firm. "Is it true the wine has a hint of chocolate?"

  "Mm." He stepped into the kitchen and opened a small door underneath the cabinet. "A touch. Almost as if you suck on a chocolate covered raspberry. It's there but is quickly overpowered by the berry."

  "I'm intrigued," she whispered, protecting her voice. After singing for an hour and a half, it was easy to strain her vocal cords and the excitement going through her tempted her to talk louder, faster.

  Usually, she settled in the motorhome and drank warm tea with honey to sooth her throat. Taking the time to meet with a man was a rare event for her.

  He returned to her side, put his hand on her back, and led her to an open room with a fireplace and tall windows. She imagined in the daytime, he could look straight out at the surrounding mountains.

  "Go ahead and sit. I'll turn on the fire." He walked over and flipped a switch. The gas flames surrounded the logs. "I enjoy the fireplace, even in the summer." He stepped over and opened one of the windows. "As long as it stays quiet outside."

  She sat down on the black leather couch in front of the rock fireplace and put her small purse on the floor. "I'm surprised you don't hear the music and crowd downstairs up here."

  He sat beside her, even though there were a couple of leather chairs in the room. "Sound insulation."

  "Ah," she said. "Nice."

  "I wanted to make sure when I come up here, work stayed below." He stretched his arm along the back of the couch behind her. "Where do you live when you're not working?"

  "My parents' place." She shook her head. "When I'm not away doing shows, I park on their property, I should say. I have a motorhome I live in."

  "Full-time?"

  "It didn't start out that way but yes. I do at least two shows a month." She shifted sideways to see him better. "So, tell me. Do you give expensive wine to every singer you hire and invite them up to your private quarters?"

  His gaze warmed. "Last weekend, a guy named Jerry sang the blues."

  Amusement tickled her. Whether the fire or Anders heated the room, her face warmed.

  "I guess that would be a no." She lowered her gaze to his chest. "You're quick."

  "And, you've got a sexy voice." He stood from the couch. "I'll get us some wine."

  Once he left the room, she blew out her breath and sagged against the couch. For a few minutes, she'd forgotten why Anders Stone invited her up to his private—she looked around the room—house. She had no idea what to call his place because it was the second story of a massive loghouse-style building that offered a casino, bar, and restaurant. Penthouse wouldn't work. It was more rustic with the antlers hanging on the walls, the leather furniture, and woodwork that was customized than contemporary.

  She stared down at a fur rug in front of the fireplace. On a whim, she slipped off her heels and stepped closer to the fire. Running her toes through the fur, her whole body relaxed. She kneeled down, running her hands over the mat and decided it was a bear.

  Anders boots thunked across the hardwood floor and stopped. She looked up, embarrassed to have been caught caressing the fur.

  "Don't get up." He approached her holding two glasses in one hand and the bottle in his other hand. "We can sit on the bear rug."

  Bear. She was right.

  He handed her the glasses and put the bottle on the floor. Lowering herself until she sat on her butt, she curled her legs to the side.

  Anders retrieved two large pillows from the sofa and set them on the floor behind her. The desire to stretch out and relax after a show made her yawn, but she was dying to try the wine.

  He lowered himself to the floor, poured two glasse
s and then stretched out, propping himself on his elbow, facing her.

  The informal setting with a man she knew nothing about never phased her. She wanted to sit on the bear skin rug and drink wine.

  And, she wanted to do it with the mysterious man who made her feel good by the way he looked at her.

  Anders lifted the glass to his lips, sipped, and closed his eyes an extra beat. Her stomach fluttered watching him. His full lips neatly drank the wine and softened. She raised her gaze from his mouth and caught him looking at her.

  "Easy," he murmured.

  She lifted her glass and felt clumsy compared to the seductive way he drank. Concentrating on putting her mouth on the rim, she barely let the liquid touch her tongue, and she licked her lips.

  A moan sighed out of her before the wine hit mid-palette and then a bit of chocolate soothed her senses. Her upper body tingled. Conscious of him studying her for a reaction, she lifted her brows and took another sip.

  "You know how to drink your wines." His gravelly voice approved.

  "I'm more fascinated than a sommelier." She lifted a shoulder and grinned. "And, in my free time, I like to go to wine tastings."

  "Alone?" he asked.

  She finished her sip and shook her head. "With my older sister, Sofia, who really is a sommelier. Though, I imagine we'll stop going as often now."

  "Why is that?"

  "She got married last month." She held the glass up and took another drink. "Do I taste hazelnut?"

  "Mm." His gaze remained on her lips without answering her.

  The wine and his attention hit her harder than she was used to. She lowered herself to her elbow, matching his position.

  "You have a good crowd at Stone Lair." She watched his strong forearm as he poured more wine into her glass. "Is it always like that?"

  "Friday nights are more mellow." He inhaled deeply. "Tomorrow night the bar will be packed, and they'll be loud."

  A smile curled inside of her, and she sipped. "I love that."

  "You enjoy a rowdy crowd?"

  "I like singing." She propped her head against her hand and stretched against the flow of the fur. "It's not so much performing but the feeling of having others enjoy my voice, the song, it's like nothing else. It's a high. For that moment, people are happy, and nothing outside the four walls is bothering them." She glanced up at him. "That probably sounds egotistical but—"

  "No. I get it," he said quietly. "I think the customers can tell when someone is singing versus performing. What you do...I can feel what you sing."

  Her insides warmed. "Thank you."

  Wanting to touch the fur rug, she finished her wine and set the glass away from her on the hardwood floor. She sprawled her fingers in the pelt and rubbed the softness, then caressed the other way, prickling the hair. "How long have you owned Stone Lair?"

  "I bought the land twelve years ago and had the main building built. I opened around ten years ago. Since then, I've added the gas station and cabins." He stopped her hand from moving and played with the silver ring on her index finger. "I finished the upstairs a couple of years ago. Before that, I spent a lot of nights on the floor, right here, spending the night in a sleeping bag.

  "A bear rug is much better," she whispered.

  "Much."

  "I caught some of the pictures in your hallway. What you did was a huge project. It's impressive." She moved her thumb, catching his finger.

  The wine. His company. She relaxed in how easy it was to talk with him.

  She rarely had time to meet men. Most of the guys that walked into her path were those who listened to one of her performances. They were usually halfway to being drunk and only wanted her for one reason.

  None of them were owners of an establishment and had a bear rug in front of a fireplace, or looked at her in a way that made her warm and sleepy.

  "You fascinate me, Iliana," he said.

  "I'm still trying to figure you out." She looked at their linked hands. At their fingers flirting with each other. "Why did you invite me up here? Why am I lying here, curling my finger around yours, and drinking your expensive wine?"

  "I saw you, wanted you, and...." He leaned closer. "Now, I'm going to kiss you."

  She closed the distance between them, taking his advantage over her away, and softly touched her lips to his.

  Surprised when he held back, she caressed his mouth with hers, nudging his lips open. She retreated, caught up in the seductive quality of his control before she was drawn back to him, taking his lower lip between hers and sucking lightly, letting go with a soft pop.

  Her lower stomach tingled, and a thrill shot through her, centered between her legs. Unable to resist, she put her hand on his jaw, loving the roughness of his whiskers.

  He must've taken that as an invitation because he deepened the kiss. She hummed in approval, surprising herself.

  Anders pressed forward, rolling her to her back with her head on the pillow. The ends of his hair tickled the back of her hand, and she closed her eyes, all while kissing him. He'd wrapped her in pleasure, and she wanted him to keep going.

  She lowered her hand to his ribs and met solid muscle. Pulling back, she said, "This is..."

  "Good." He rubbed his lips together.

  She sighed, trying to catch her breath. "I've barely met you."

  "That'll be changing." He kissed her lightly. "You're a beautiful woman."

  She smiled against his lips. She'd take aroused compliments when the timing was right, and it was definitely a good night.

  "I should probably walk out to the RV if I'm going to sing tomorrow night." She kissed him one more time and curled her abdomen, sitting up.

  The room swayed pleasantly. Drinking on an empty stomach and getting high on Anders, she needed to call it a night.

  He stood, adjusted his jeans, and soaked her in. "You've got me jacked up."

  Her gaze lowered on its own. She couldn't help looking.

  "I'm sorry." She glowed inside, not one bit sorry.

  Bending down to pick up her purse, she rubbed her lips together before straightening. It pleased her that he found her attractive.

  He reached out and took her hand. "Let me walk you out."

  Sliding her fingers into his hand a comfortable vibration settled in her stomach, and she held on to him with both hands, not ready to walk away from him yet. It'd been a long time since she'd found herself attracted to a man so intensely she wanted to push every proper rule about keeping a professional distance from those who hire her to the wayside.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Anders stopped and turned toward her. "Make time for me before you perform tomorrow."

  She leaned against him. "Here?"

  "Here or anywhere." He kissed her lightly and then deepened the kiss. "Say yes."

  "Yes," she whispered.

  He opened the door and leading her by the hand, escorted her through the bar and into a dark room. She held on to him tighter as a light came on.

  A long table surrounded by chairs filled the middle of the room. Against the wall, a refrigerator hummed.

  "It's the break room. There's an exit door that'll lead you to the back of the Lair where the cabins are located and the RVs park." He raised her hand and kissed her knuckles before he let go of her. "Sorry. Phone."

  She waited while he answered the call. He must've had it on vibrate because she hadn't heard a thing.

  "Did you call the volunteer fire department?" said Anders into the phone.

  He looked at her, grabbed her hand, and strode to the door. She hurried along.

  "I'm at the back door now. No, call Jared and have him grab the fire extinguishers and any of the men who can help." He tapped a code into the panel on the wall and push the door open, stopping instantly. "Jesus Christ."

  She followed his gaze and gasped. A wall of fire flickered at least thirty feet high into the air. She squeezed his hand, covering her nose and mouth as the smoke burned her nostrils.

  Anders put his phone in hi
s pocket and wrapped his arm around her. At the same time, she gained her bearings to where they'd exited the building and gasped.

  "My motorhome," she said, stepping forward.

  He grabbed her, holding her back. Wide awake, her chest squeezed in panic.

  "Craig and Brad. I have to find them," she said.

  Anders held on to her, forcing her not to run close to her burning motorhome. She searched the gathering crowd outside looking for her drummer and her guitarist. Having no idea how long she was with Anders after the show, she'd lost track of her band members.

  Chapter 3

  Iliana stood between her two band members. Anders conversed with Chief Roteel a few yards away. The volunteer firefighters extinguished the fire and now hung back while the fire investigator went through the skeleton of the motorhome.

  Anders motioned Mac over. "Let's get the guests in the cabins to go inside. Tell them breakfast is on us."

  Mac nodded and walked off. Anders gazed at Iliana, making sure she still wore his jacket that he'd brought out to her, and shook the Chief's hands. "Thanks for your help."

  "We'll have a report for you soon, Mr. Stone." Chief turned to his crew. "Roll 'em up and put 'em back on the tanker."

  Standing alone, he gritted his teeth. He never would've called the fire department. He would put his money on one of the band members calling 911 or one of the guests from the cabins. Now there would be an investigation.

  On his land, he made the calls and preferred to keep the law away from Stone Lair. If the fire would've gotten out of control, he could've rounded up enough men to fight it. Now, he was going to have fire officials and probably the police in his business.

  He walked over to Iliana and pulled the edges of the coat tighter around her. "You're shaking."

  "I don't understand how this could've happened. No one was in the motorhome." She looked at the two men with her. "All of our equipment was in there."

  "Don't think about that now." The taller man on her right held out his hand to Anders. "I'm Craig Barrows. This is Brad, our drummer."

  He shook both men's hands. "The door is open for Cabin Three. There are only two beds, but you're free to catch some sleep for what remains of the night."