Taking Something Read Online Free PDF Page B

she said into the mic, stretching her arms up over her head and settling into some yoga-esque pose.
    The cropped, off-the-shoulder shirt she was wearing rose up as she stretched out in front of me. Her low-slung jeans not covering up anymore than she wanted them to. Her smoky eyes trained on me as she moved.
    Is she baiting me?
    She'd been pretty flirty with me the day before, but I never imagined she'd be as sexually forward as she was. Guess the tattoos and bad attitude did something for her. Not to mention, I'd totally won her over when she’d stopped by for her visit.
    As soon as the beat I'd arranged started playing in her ears, she was a goner. After that, she’d given me a few more seductive looks and flirty lines before she’d said, “I can't wait to start working with you,” and left.
    I should have known that she was more experienced than her music let on. That must have been part of the reason—if not all of it—she wanted her sound to be more mature. Sadie Sinclair had discovered sex, and apparently she was a big fan.
    Of course her seductive stretching worked on me because I watched the sliver of skin she’d exposed and probably even licked my lips as I thought about what could happen in that studio if we were alone too long. But her inviting me to make a move with her little peep show would have to wait. She'd already informed me that her assistant would be joining us as soon as she’d picked up her breakfast order from some high-end bakery all the way across town. Oh, and after she’d stopped by her jeweler to pick up a custom cell phone case she'd ordered months ago.
    In less than one hour, I had learned exactly what made Sadie Sinclair tick. It blew my mind that she was willing to risk her fame and fortune by putting out an album that was completely different from what her fans were used to. I was starting to think that she wasn't really a think-things-through kind of gal. No hit songs plus no fans equaled no money. Which equaled no fancy house, no car service, and no kiss-your-ass-every-second assistant. It was a simple equation. To me, anyway.
    “Okay,” she smiled, pulling her headphones. “I'm ready!”
    I turned on the track and she started her trademark “oohs” and “aahs” before the first line. She actually made it all the way through the first chorus before she realized it was just like all the other songs she had already sung. She glared at me as she tossed her hand up for me to stop the music.
    “This is garbage, Nick,” she said, shaking her head. “Not at all what I had envisioned.”
    “Look, babe.” I smiled, walking from the mixing board over to her side of the studio. “I know on the surface this song sounds a lot like the stuff you wanted to get away from, but it's the lyrics that mean something different.”
    “Really?” She tilted her head. “To me it sounds a lot like the 'Why won't you love me?' bullshit I've already sung about.”
    “It's way deeper than that,” I insisted, even though I knew it was total bullshit. “You need to tap into your soul. Sing from pain. From experience. Real artists connect to their fans through their words. You've been in love before, right?”
    She stared at me with her superiority. Of course she'd never been in love. She was too worried about gaining admiration, not giving it.
    “Guess I haven't found the right guy.” She smirked.
    “Okay then.” I placed my hands on her shoulders and stared into her coal-lined green eyes. “Imagine wanting someone so badly that it hurts.” I stepped closer to her, and her pouty pink lips drew in an unexpected breath. “You can't think straight.” I slowly moved one hand up and cradled her cheek. “All you want is for them to notice you. To love you.” I rested my forehead against hers. “To kiss you.”
    Looking in her eyes told me two things. First, she was eating up every single word I was saying like she was fat kid in a cupcake factory. Two, she was already head over heels in