Jace (Kings of Country #1) - Sasha Summers Page 0,1

the single, not Emmy and some new music reality TV star.

“You good?” her father asked.

No. She glared.

He sighed. “Breathe, baby girl. Don’t want you spitting fire at folk for the rest of the night.”

She didn’t need to be reminded of the Three Kings fans lined up outside. This had been her life for the past ten years. It was more than singing side by side with her twin sister and older brother, playing her guitar until her fingertips hurt, or waking up humming a new melody, new lyrics already taking shape. It was making people feel. The only thing that mattered was the fans. Was she upset? Yes. Hurt? Most definitely. But when she left her dressing room, a dazzling smile would be on her face—for them. After the meet and greet would be another story.

Her father let out a long, pained sigh. “Might as well go ahead and send him in.”

Send who in? Her dressing room was entirely too crowded already. Not that protesting would make a bit of difference. She flopped into the chair before her illuminated makeup mirror, all but choking on frustration, and rubbed lotion into her fingers and hands. Hands that were shaking.

Steve leaned out her dressing room door, calling, “Come on in, Jace. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”

Jace. She froze. As in Jace-the-song-stealer Black? She was not looking forward to meeting him. Some wannabe singer from a no-count TV talent show. American Voice? Or Next Top Musician? Or something else gimmicky and stupid?

In the mirror, she shot daggers her father’s way. He was pushing it—pushing her. She applied a stroke of bloodred color to her mouth, jammed the lipstick lid back on, and pressed her hands against her thighs before risking a glance in the mirror at the man who’d stolen her dreams.

He was big. Big big. He had to stoop to get through the door of her dressing room.

“Mr. King, sir.” Jace’s voice was deep and smooth and impossible to ignore. But that didn’t mean he could sing. “It’s a real honor.” He extended a hand to her father. Polite. That was something.

“Good to meet you, son,” her father answered, shaking his hand and clapping Jace on the shoulder.

Tall and broad-shouldered. A weathered black leather jacket hugged the breadth of his shoulders and upper arms. As he pivoted on the heel of his boot, her gaze wandered south, revealing a perfect ass gloved in faded denim. She blew out a long, slow breath. Very nice packaging. But a great body didn’t mean diddly when you were performing live, in front of an audience of thousands.

He glanced her way then. It was a glance, nothing really, but it was enough.

Oh hell.

Of course he was drop-dead gorgeous. Thick black hair, strong jaw, and a wicked, tempting grin on very nice lips. Dammit. He shook hands with her weasel manager, Steve, before giving her his full attention. A jolt of pure appreciation raced down her spine to the tips of her crystal-encrusted boots. It’s not fair. None of this is fair. She fiddled with her heavy silver Tiffany charm bracelet and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, too agitated to sit still.

Talented or not, it wouldn’t matter. Not when he looked like that. Which was exactly why he was here. That face. That body. Jace Black and Emmy Lou King? His dark, dangerous good looks and her sister’s golden sweetness? They’d make quite a pair onstage, singing her song…

Her song.

Her temper flared, quick and hot. She didn’t give a damn what he looked like. Or if he had manners. He hadn’t earned the right to her words, not by a long shot. And since he was a big boy, she’d take it upon herself to show him how tough this industry could be. Starting right here, right now.

His gaze locked with her reflection. “I can’t tell you how…amazing it is to meet you, Miss King.” That velvet voice was far too yummy. “I know every word to every song you’ve written.” He needed to stop looking at her so she could stay pissed off and feisty.

But he didn’t. And the longer he looked, the harder it was to overlook the way he was looking at her. Admiring her as a singer and songwriter was one thing. But right now, something told her he was appreciating more than her music.

Too bad she couldn’t like him. At all.

She ignored her daddy’s warning look and stood, turning to face Jace. Her momma raised her daughters with