Star Struck Page 2

  Especially being able to play a part in transforming Ethan…

  Every up and coming fashion stylist knew that the best way to break into the game wasn’t just through getting the fashion degree or having some retail experience – both of which Mandy had. It also took starting at the bottom by working as an assistant to an established image consultant. Mandy was looking forward to gaining all that on-the-job training with Jessica in order to learn how to work with clients and also how to run her own consulting business when the time came.

  For a twenty-three year old, Mandy knew she was ambitious, driven, and sometimes even single-minded. Failure was not an option - something she’d learned from her father and a trait that her boyfriend Marcus encouraged, being as goal-oriented as she was.

  The only problem with being so focused with her career meant that Mandy had very little experience with the opposite sex. Marcus was her first real boyfriend and Mandy couldn’t deny herself the truth… she’d never really known true passion or romance.

  What love and respect she felt for Marcus didn’t carry the kind of sexual passion that she’d heard her friends speak of. She was attracted to Marcus, sure, especially given their history, but when it came to raw, animalistic hunger – the need to be taken, or to take from a man for her own desperate pleasure, she had only books and movies as inspiration.

  Now Mandy couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever get the chance to really understand or experience what it meant to know the depth of carnality a man and woman could feel when they were so passionately drawn together. Was she even ready to explore beyond her boundaries?

  Funny how meeting Ethan had brought all of these wild ideas to the front of her mind. What did it all mean? Why did her heart pound so alarmingly when their eyes met or when he spoke to her? He was always asking for her opinion on colors and styles and while Mandy tried to respond as coherently as possible, she found herself struggling to drown out the fire that singed her chest and spread to her lower regions when she lost herself in those impossibly blue eyes.

  The lifestyle of a sinner, and the face and body of a saint.

  Mandy only had to look at Ethan and her fingers itched to do things to him – artistically, of course. She had ideas of what could work for his hair, body shape, and persona. Her creative juices had never been so alive.

  She’d forced herself to disregard his earlier flirting when he’d breathed in her perfume and commented about her being a ‘temptation’. Mandy was convinced this was just Ethan being in character. It was his modus operandi to toy with any female that he encountered. It was the expected response for a rocker, after all. Mandy could only be thankful that apart from the insufferable blushing, she’d taken his initial risqué comments in stride.

  Suddenly, Jessica’s phone rang and she excused herself for a minute to take the call in another room. Now alone with Ethan, Mandy became even more acutely aware of his masculine charisma, and she had to hide behind her coffee cup in order to cover up the rose-colored flush of attraction that washed over her face and neck.

  Tap, tap, tap…

  Ethan’s fingers were tapping on the table. He was relaxed, casually sitting back in his chair. Running his fingers through his hair, he let out a sigh.

  “I wish Jessica would just be upfront this time – literally. I know exactly what she intends. She wants me to hack off my hair, lay off the liner and nail polish, and become a pretty boy like Jaime. But that won’t work for me – it ain’t my style.”

  Mandy felt like smiling at the petulance underneath his gruff tone. “I don’t think that’s her plan for you,” she replied. “From what I know, she plans to go for a look that’s a good combination of metal and street. We’re certainly not looking to drastically change your look without considering your personal style. I mean nothing too radical that would make your fans think you were a sellout or whatever. You already have your unique style and Jessica believes we just need to build on it and make it as up to the minute as possible.”

  Mandy realized that her spiel was the most she’d spoken to Ethan since the meeting had begun and she had to resist the urge to squirm with the way he’d watched her face all through her comments.

  His gaze seemed speculative as he finally murmured, “So what’s yours? Your unique style, I mean. For one thing, rock stars have to dress different from everyday people – it’s a job requirement. But then you’re a budding fashion stylist so you’re duty-bound to at least have a distinctive look. One that communicates your style prowess through your fashion choices. If you ask me, I’m thinking you’re going for girl-next-door, simple yet quirky in the sense that you try to give the impression of not trying too hard?”

  Mandy felt stung. Was he trying to say she looked boring or unsophisticated? He was right, of course, that as a style consultant she definitely needed to cultivate a personal image of her own. Which she had. Mandy was a firm believer in ‘less is more’ and she was always down for the ‘stark’ look when it came to her fashion choices. She loved cosmetics and getting dressed up, but only for special occasions.

  So Ethan’s evaluation of her was unexpected and her first instinct was to bite back that she wasn’t impressed all that much either by him either.

  Remembering he was a client, Mandy sat up straighter in her chair.

  “Sorry if my style bothers you or isn’t up to your standards, but I deal with very long days at work and I really just want to be comfortable. Looking pretty is not a priority for me. Taking care of clients like you, that’s what really I care about.”

  “I never said you weren’t pretty,” Ethan replied with a smile, his tone mild. “But I get the impression that you like to keep the attention away from yourself. I apologize if I offended you, Mandy…really. That wasn’t my intention at all. Your style’s great. In fact, if you really were trying for the toned-down, plain look I’d say you rather failed. I can’t be the only man who is curious to discover what’s beneath that unembellished exterior.”

  Mandy gulped, but her throat was dry at the smokiness in his tone. Ethan Tyler had just told her she made him curious. Curious about what, exactly? Getting her into bed? Getting to know her better?

  She grabbed her coffee cup and drank deeply, almost coughing as the barely warm liquid slipped too fast down her throat.

  Ethan was smiling at her evident discomfort. “At least you’ve stopped blushing.”

  She felt a flash of heat swarm across her cheeks and neck and shook her head.

  “Or maybe not.” Ethan chuckled.

  She could only laugh.

  “Flowers in her hair, she breaks hearts by the dozen…Molten and fair, her kiss will keep you frozen,” Ethan murmured, and when Mandy stared at him blankly, he added, “From the song “Pieces of Jade”. It’s our top ten single – has been for the past two months. You remind me of the lyrics – which I co-wrote.”

  “Oh,” Mandy murmured, not sure what else to say.

  “You don’t listen to our work, do you?” Ethan asked suspiciously.

  Uh oh, thought Mandy. “Um…not that one, no.”

  “Do you know any of our songs?” he prodded, eyes narrowing.

  Mandy chewed on her bottom lip. She’d done tons of research on the band, checked out their entire history and even all the latest news and updates on each and every member. How much they were worth, who they were last seen with, their scandals…but she’d never got down to actually listening to anything they’d recorded or even seen any of their performances. Shit.

  She heaved a sigh of relief when Jessica suddenly reappeared, apologizing profusely. Her boss set about making plans for Ethan’s planned shopping trip for his all-new wardrobe.

  “You have to trust me, Ethan. As your stylist, it’s my job to make you look the very best that you can and that’s exactly what I am going to do. Your live performances will sizzle because your outfits will increase your presence and freedom of expression. That way, you’ll connect more with your audience. I know you already have the confiden
ce, but now it’s about giving your fans what they want… that sexual appeal that will crank up the volume of who you are in the music world. A born rock star.”

  “All that…and you hired an intern who doesn’t know a thing about my music,” Ethan said calmly. The room went still. Mandy’s stomach dropped as she felt Jessica’s accusing gaze asking, what the fuck did you tell him?

  For once, Jessica looked uncomfortable. “Ethan, I…”

  “So here’s what we’re gonna do. Your people can handle my whole new image. I’m all for it. But I need to see more dedication. I need proof that Jessica Charles has concepts on image, performance, and mindset that can benefit an artist on any level. This job isn’t just about the clothes and the image, right? It’s about people. Well, this is my suggestion - Mandy comes along with me for the gig at the London music festival that takes place in about two weeks. She’ll be my personal stylist and tour wardrobe assistant for the duration of the gig. Call my people and they’ll give you all the details you need.”

  He rose to his feet, glancing at his watch. “Looks like the one-hour consultation is up.” He faced Jessica, who was on her feet too. “I trust you, Jessica. Everyone else in the band’s been hounding me to get you guys on board. Make this painless, okay? Starting with the Academy Awards event coming up in a month. Let’s just do this.”

  Ethan was already walking out the door with Jessica following closely behind, assuring him every step of the way. Mandy, on the other hand, was still frozen in her seat, conscious only of the buzzing in her ears. When Jessica returned, Mandy hadn’t even moved from her position.

  “You’ll do it, of course,” Jessica said factually. As if there was any question. “Remember what I told you about fucking things up for me? I’ll not just kick you out; I’ll make it so no self-respecting member of this industry will touch you.” Jessica smiled thinly. “The Strum is the biggest band on earth right now. Go listen to all their fucking records. Next time you meet Ethan Tyler, you’d better sound like you love every line and note they’ve ever created.”

  Chapter Two

  The next time she met Ethan Tyler, Mandy was ready.

  So his band had sold millions of records. So Ethan was one of the most gifted bassists alive. So their music was pretty good. They actually had some really good songs, as at least two of their members – Jaime and Ethan - were also lyricists. Mandy had downloaded as many of their hits as possible from as far back as five years ago when they were just a support band working with bigger names at the top live shows.

  Today, few groups had the same impact or loyal following as The Strum. Hiring Jessica Charles to revamp Ethan’s image was her chance to work with the entire band, which was a great opportunity for career advancement. Everyone would want to become clients of the stylist for The Strum and in this town, word always spread quickly.

  “Ethan is giving you the chance to understand who he really is as an artist, and in turn create an image which reflects his genuine style,” Jessica told her sagely before sending Mandy on her way to measure Ethan. “You’re going to be my eyes and ears, so don’t mess this up. Whether you’re taking him shopping at Versace or discussing whether he really needs to wear those black leather boots to his next television interview over coffee, remember you represent the voice of Jessica Charles.”

  It was hard to remember much of anything when she was thinking about coming face to face with Ethan again.

  The drive down to his beachside mansion had been a comfortable one, thanks to the stretch limo that had been sent to pick her up from the office. She was armed with the tools of her trade plus countless warnings from her harried boss. Jessica was desperate to get Ethan on the client list, and for some reason the woman believed it all hung on how well Mandy handled this ‘golden’ opportunity.

  The magnificent three-story house was stunning, the property cloaked with green trees and a vast soccer field-sized lawn. She noticed lines of exotic cars on the side of the building plus a wide array of state-of-the-art motorcycles just beyond in an open-door garage. Blinking at the obvious display of opulence, Mandy faced the front door, took a deep breath, and pressed the bell.

  When the heavy door swung open, Mandy stared speechlessly up at Ethan.

  He was absolutely gorgeous, rocking a dark designer stubble on that strong, masculine jawline. And he was shirtless. A pair of low-slung jeans hung on his hips. It was ripped up in places that Mandy wanted to take a bite out of. A big bite. She gasped inaudibly and swept her eyes up to his impossibly blue ones. She tried to ignore what a sexy torso he had even with all that damnable ink. His chest was hairless and as toned as an Olympic athlete’s, and so tanned he was gleaming.

  Staring fixedly into his face, Mandy wished she didn’t like the way his hair seemed even more enviably silky today as he brushed it off his forehead negligently.

  He was looking her over in blatant scrutiny. “Pretty. Very pretty.”

  Mandy tried not to make a face. She’d gone all out today. It was warm out so she’d opted for her knee-high gladiator sandals with the buckles and straps running up her shapely calves. She paired it with a sleeveless white top tucked primly into a very un-prim short, patterned skirt. She knew how well she filled out her clothes and even though they were comfortable and simple, no one would accuse her of not having style.

  “Though you really should have left your hair down. I liked it better the last time,” he added, making Mandy grit her teeth as he spun on his heels – barefoot, naturally – and proceeded into the house.

  “It’s hot,” Mandy heard herself mutter, giving her sleek ponytail a wag as she walked in after him and shut the door.

  Ethan kept on walking down the marble-topped floor of the grandly designed foyer. Mandy’s mouth hung open as everything in the entryway seemed larger than life. The paintings, chandeliers, flower arrangements, and furniture made her feel like she was trapped in a huge Alice in Wonderland prop room.

  “I’ve got company,” Ethan murmured as he beckoned to her from an arched doorway on the left. Mandy’s fingers tightened on her briefcase as she tried to avoid staring at Ethan’s gorgeous ass, hugged by his low-riding jeans.

  Mandy prayed for strength and reminded herself that she had to make this all business. One hundred percent professional at all times. She recalled the last few days since meeting Ethan and how curious she had been to find out as much about him as she could. She’d told her sisters about Ethan and they’d screamed in envy. Obviously they were fans of the band and Mandy had spent hours talking to them about what he was like while hearing all of the celebrity gossip that they had read about over the years.

  Then, as a pang of guilt washed over her, Mandy remembered the words of advice that Marcus had given her when she’d told him that she would be working with Ethan Tyler.

  “I’ve heard of those guys. Be careful, Mandy. Men like Ethan eat girls like you for breakfast,” he had warned. “I know you can handle yourself, but you know, just make sure that they treat you with the respect you deserve.”

  Ethan led Mandy through door after door, passage after passage, and up a flight of stairs till they came to some kind of entertainment room. There was music drifting from the speakers and metallic sounds thumping in the background. Mandy’s eyes widened as she glanced around and noted a few well-known faces in the small crowd of male and female revelers, who were drinking and laughing while a music video was playing on the massive wide-screen wall mounted television.

  Mandy recognized it as the latest video for the new top ten song Kiss or Die. Her legs feeling like lead, she advanced into the room while Ethan headed straight for the bar where a tall man, dressed in all black, his long curly dark hair trailing down his leather-covered back, was waiting. Ethan patted him on the shoulder and Mandy saw him mouth the words, “She’s here.”

  The man in black turned around to face her and Mandy found herself smiling wide as she came face to face with Jaime, lead singer for the band.

  Jaime was the epitome of
sexy. A complete alpha male with a gorgeous chiseled face, smoking gray eyes, and oozing sex appeal comparable only to Ethan’s golden-boy attraction. Jaime’s skin was deeply tanned, showing much of his well-known Italian-American heritage, and he certainly had the trademark Italian lean hips accented by his thick black leather belt. He smiled and took Mandy’s somewhat limp hand. It was hard not to feel weak seeing Ethan and Jaime side by side, one half-dressed and the other in an all-black getup, both with enough masculine appeal to have a normal woman hyperventilating from uncontrollable lust.

  Jaime’s touch sizzled on her skin. “Nice to meet you. Mandy, right?”

  “Yes,” Mandy let out on a croak, retrieving her scalded hand. “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Battista.”

  Jaime grinned and took a swig from his bottle of beer. “My father’s Mr. Battista. You, beautiful, get to call me Jaime.”

  “Jaime…you got it.” Mandy replied, lip quivering.

  Ethan still had his arm around Jaime’s neck. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” Ethan queried with a half-smile.

  “She’s hot, Ethan. Way out of your league, man.” Jaime grinned as Ethan scowled.

  Mandy couldn’t help but smile as Jaime asked her, “So what’s your poison? Anything we can offer you before you get down to work on this profligate? I hear he’s finally got himself a new stylist. Hopefully we’ll start to see some improvement.”

  “That’s what I’m here for, um…Jaime. And I don’t drink when I’m working. Maybe later.”

  Jaime nodded with a smile just as a slender, skimpily dressed blonde came over to drape herself around him. Mandy suddenly felt really uncomfortable since all the woman seemed to be wearing was a bikini top and cut-off jeans too miniscule to be considered a pair of shorts.