She did as he asked, and when she entered the steam-filled bathroom David was luxuriating, eyes closed, in the tub. He’d produced pillar candles from somewhere and the golden light playing across the twin ridges of his pectorals tempted her to lick the glistening water droplets from his skin.
He opened his eyes when her wet clothing met the floor, his lidded stare, sleepy, but no less intense than it had been in the boutique. Naked, she sighed with happiness and slid into the opposite side of the tub.
“None of that,” he admonished, and pulled her over to settle back against his chest.
“Heaven,” she said, letting her head fall back.
The silence stretched easily between them, and Kyra felt herself drifting off on a sea of tranquility in David’s arms.
“Warmed up?” he asked some time later, giving her a squeeze with his arms.
“Mhm.”
“Tell me about your father,” he whispered against her hair.
Who would have known it could take as few as five words to send her body from relaxed to rigid?
“Shh,” he said, and nestled her back against him when she tried to bolt.
He swept his knuckles under her breasts before his fingers traced their way around her nipples in a slow, soothing swirl. It took several moments, but Kyra’s heart assumed a steadier pace under his attentions.
“Why didn’t you follow in his footsteps? You’re good, you know. Could be great.”
She opened her mouth to avoid his question, brush it off with a flip remark, but she met his eyes in the mirror next to the tub and there was something in his expression that reminded her of a drowning man looking for a lifeline. Realization dawned. He’d laid his soul bare to her and needed her to hold up her end of the bargain.
David watched Kyra in the tub-side mirror. The steam from the bath had curled tendrils of her hair about her face and pinkened her cheeks. The cream and roses of her complexion was something he’d never tire of looking at.
She heaved a sigh and traced the veins running through the marble tub surround. He knew she was struggling with opening up to him. After he’d confided in her this afternoon, however, he hoped that she’d return the trust.
He hadn’t told her nearly half of the information she was searching for, but that could only come with time. First, he had to see if she could keep her word, even when it was difficult.
“My father and I just don’t get along.”
The abruptness and brevity of her response surprised him. So that was the way she wanted to play it? He thought they’d had a deal. He felt his heart sink. So much for her integrity.
His disappointment must have shown on his face.
Kyra asked, “You’re not buying it?”
“No.”
David shifted and looked around the bathroom. Maybe Brent had emailed those files? He could give them a listen to prep for tomorrow’s meeting. He began to shift out from under Kyra, but her breath came out in a rush, words tumbling after.
“You were right. He wouldn’t let me play professionally, had his friends shut me out of the studio scene.”
He stilled to examine her. There was more to this story than family politics, unless he misread the nonverbal cues her darting eyes and wild expression presented.
Keeping his voice low and quiet, he asked, “Why?”
“I was fourteen,” she began, and had to stop to swallow past a lump in her throat.
He kept his response to a light caress along her arm with his fingertips. She would talk when she was ready.
“Do you know Adam Weber?”
Blinking at the non sequitur, he recalled the man. “I’ve met him a few times. He’s Brent’s brother. Had some trouble with a girl. Somehow ruined his…”
The last part of his recall was met with her horrified expression.
“That was you?”
She nodded and looked away.
He frowned. That girl Brent had spoken of had ruined Adam’s career. Seduced him and then cried rape. Called in some favors from her father to have him shut out of the studio scene.
He experienced a brief adrenaline rush that was sickeningly halted when her words tumbled to the forefront of his mind.
“You were fourteen?”
“Yes.”
His stomach clenched and his jaw followed suit.
“Shit. I thought… From what Brent told me about Adam… I’m sorry.” He rubbed his palm down his face, leaving water droplets in its wake as anger surged through him.
What she must have gone through, he couldn’t fathom. At the time he’d heard the tale, he thought of it as another justification for wariness around the female sex.
“What a sick bastard!” he said, finally.
His arm tightened around her abdomen protectively. Brent couldn’t have known all of the details or he never would have blamed Kyra. Or would he? Blood was thicker than water, after all.
“Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay. I’m not that kid anymore,” she soothed, and he relaxed his grip.
“Sorry. I know. It’s just—I had no idea it was you,” he said, his tone a tad defensive. Had she believed his original antipathy toward her had something to do with the incident?
She grimaced when he voiced the question. “No. It’s okay. I knew you disliked me for entirely different reasons.”
He smiled wryly, not a little chagrined at his original treatment of her in the Rivoli Bar. He was surprised she didn’t think of him as a total bastard.
“Will you tell me what really happened?” he asked.
“I haven’t thought about it in years,” Kyra mused, and the color left her face as her eyes took on a faraway expression.
If he knew anything from his own childhood experiences, she’d done her best to banish the incident from memory. Recalling the details wouldn’t be easy or pleasant. Still, he had a suspicion that was exactly what she needed to do.
“I’d been hanging around in the studio for a couple days over summer vacation while my father worked. I’d just started to get into boys, but Adam treated me like an adult, you know?”
She looked at David to see that he was listening. When he nodded, she kept speaking.
“He showed me around the studio and asked me all about my favorite bands. Even played a couple songs with me when everyone else was setting up. It’s safe to say I developed a schoolgirl crush on him. I’m sure everyone saw it.”
Her voice was shaking, and she stopped. He knew where this was headed, and although his heart was already thumping with fury, he made sure to keep his expression neutral. His emotions would only muddy the water for her.
She drew in a deep breath and puffed her cheeks as she blew it out. “Sorry.”
“Take all the time you need,” he replied and kissed the tip of her ear.
“Thanks. We were putting away some stuff in the instrument room and he told me one of my favorite artists was recording in the studio upstairs. Said he’d gotten the man’s manager to let us watch.”
David gritted his teeth at the obvious ruse.
“We got to the studio, but no one was there. I was confused at first. The gear was there, but he said they must’ve been at lunch. I thought he wanted us to wait for them, so I walked around looking at the instruments. There was a guitar—a custom Les Paul that I was gushing about. That’s when he came up behind me.”
If David ever saw that man again, he’d be lucky to live.
“He…pressed himself against me. I just froze. Stood there while he reached around and groped me. I—I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I pretended it wasn’t happening, it wouldn’t be. That he’d go away, you know?”
Kyra’s voice sounded lost and bewildered. David could almost picture the fourteen-year-old girl she had been, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to rush in and save her.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered around the lump in his throat.
She nodded, acknowledging his sympathy, and went on with her story. “He kissed me and I remember t
hinking how disgusting it felt. His hands were all over me and all I could think about was whether or not the guitar had been tuned before…before they went to lunch.”
“You were dissociating,” David said with more than a little empathy.
“It was the first time anyone had touched me…like that,” she gasped out the words, and then screwed up her face against the tears that threatened.
David held her and rocked her while she took gulps of air in an effort to calm her emotions. Why had he ever thought it was a good idea to dig around in her past like this? He should know better than anyone that people often had secrets that were better left buried.
“My father walked in before he got any further,” she whispered. “He made me leave. ‘Out!’ he said.” Her laughter sounded hysterical and he almost told her they could finish later, but she distanced herself from the memory with her next statement. “He sounded just like you did yesterday.”
“Sorry,” he said, and he meant it. Why had he summarily dismissed her at the signing? Why hadn’t he seen what a complex, wonderful person she was?
“No. You were right. I was horrible. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
“Adam was blacklisted from most of the major studios,” David said. “Must have been your father’s doing. He holds a lot more power than you think. Pretty much handpicks studio musicians for a lot of different projects.”
Kyra gave a short bark of laughter. “He’s like the godfather of studio musicians.”
David flinched at the comparison, and then had an even darker thought.
“He didn’t blame you for the incident, did he?”
“No. No way. I think he felt guilty. My mother—they were already divorced by that time—had always accused him of exposing me to unsavory people.”
He nodded, relieved that at the very least Kyra’d had someone on her side at the time.
“So he wouldn’t let you come to the studio after that? Discouraged your talent?”
“Pretty much.”
Her answer had been airy, as if she was coming back to the present and wanted to wrap up the conversation. Given the emotional intensity, he completely understood. It had been brave of her—braver than he’d ever been—to talk about this with a virtual stranger. He had a feeling she hadn’t related the entire story to anyone in a very long time. If ever.
“I’m sorry. I wish I’d known you. I would have talked to your father.”
Her eyes turned luminous as they met his.
“Thank you.”
“I mean it. You’ve got some real talent.”
Watching her with the instrument today had been a revelation. He didn’t know if she realized it, but her entire body became one with the guitar while she was playing it. It was as if she’d been born with it in her hands.
She flushed at his compliment and switched back to their original topic.
“My father was only trying to protect me. I am sure he thought something far worse would have happened if he continued to take me to his sessions.”
David brought her hand up and brushed his lips across her knuckles before turning her to face him, her knees straddling the tapered line of his hips.
“Understandable, but he shouldn’t have barred you from the business.”
Kyra shrugged.
“I enjoy what I do now, and I still play, as you saw.”
“You really enjoy being a…” He hesitated and chose his word carefully. “Writer?”
“Most days.”
Her smile was rueful at best, revealing whether she knew it or not, that, if left in her hands, music would have been her avocation.
She’d been cheated out of so much. Could he really cheat her further? There was a long moment of silence during which he made up his mind. If she could be this brave, so could he. In fact, he owed it to her.
“You can have your interview.”
Kyra’s brow rose, the gesture widening her eyes so that the candlelight reflected in them in a primitive, flickering dance.
“Yes. I’m serious.” He answered her silent query and squelched the urge to make love to her again. That she brushed off his offer by a quick rise from the tub to grab a towel, was more than a surprise.
Rubbing the terry over her skin with quick snapping motions, she dried off and turned to him while wrapping the cloth around her torso. “Thank you, but you really don’t owe me anything.”
Ah. She didn’t want his pity.
He ignored her comment and rose from the tub. He dried off and found his robe before following her into the bedroom.
“I’ll get the food,” he offered, and went downstairs to give her a few minutes alone.
When he returned, she was sitting cross-legged on the bed in one of his shirts. He smiled and placed the tray on a Louis XIV occasional table.
“I hope that shirt wasn’t clean,” he teased.
She smiled and brought the sleeve to her nose before admitting, “No. I wanted one that smelled like you.”
He had to laugh at that, even as his stomach warmed at the sweetness of the gesture.
“I hope that’s a good thing and not some strange fetish you haven’t told me about,” he said, enjoying the playful banter.
Returning his broad grin, she took the glass of red wine he offered.
She joined him at the table and scooted her chair forward, digging into the steak with a gusto he wouldn’t have credited. She was resilient and beautiful—a strong woman with a heart. He could really get used to her company.
The game had changed. He ate while he contemplated his next move. The steak melted like butter in his mouth, its juicy texture caressing his taste buds to life. He swallowed and took a sip of wine to bathe his palate. There really were no two ways about it. She had won, and he could say he honestly wasn’t sorry.
“I have an award thing tomorrow night. I’ll get you a press pass. We can do it after that,” he tried and hoped this time she’d accept. He didn’t know if he had it in him to offer a third time.
Pausing mid-chew, the expression she gave him was worried. “Are you sure?”
She was concerned for him? For his feelings?
“I heard you talking with your editor.” He shrugged, uncomfortable with her sympathy. “You’re in trouble.”
There was a tightness around her mouth, and frown lines deepened across her forehead.
He recognized his blunder, and spoke to correct it. “Besides, you’re good at what you do. I can trust you to be fair and accurate.”
A flush of pleasure stained her features and he smiled, glad he’d gotten it right.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And for what it’s worth, I’ll talk to Brent. I’m sure he doesn’t know the whole story.”
A bite of asparagus stopped halfway to her mouth.
“That’s really not necessary.”
He shook his head. “If we’re going to be seeing more of each other, I think he better know the truth. You’re not exactly his favorite person.”
That was the understatement of the century.
“Tell me something I don’t already know,” she said, and he looked at her quizzingly.
“Did he say something to you? Do something?” Brent’s aversion was one thing, but that she’d been aware of it was disturbing.
“No. It’s just that I wish you wouldn’t rock the boat. It’s ancient history.”
He considered her a moment, his mind clouding with doubt. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
She opened her mouth to begin and then shut it again. It took her more than a few seconds to respond.
“I just don’t want to drag up painful memories for everyone.”
David put down his fork and reached for her hand.
“Kyra, love, do you realize Adam might be doing the same thing to other girls?”
“No.” Her whisper was a stark denial.
“Monsters get worse. They don’t change,” he said, feeling memory’s gravity well pul
l at him as he murmured, “I should know.”
She sat back and used a hand to bunch her hair at the nape of her neck as she considered his words. He was relieved when she relented.
“Do what you need to do.”
“Thank you.”
Moonlight streamed through the window, casting Kyra in an ethereal glow. She reminded him of an angel at that moment, dressed in his white shirt, her hair cascading around her shoulders.
She arched into his caress as he reached forward to run a finger along the curve of her cheek.
Once Brent knew the whole truth he wouldn’t be as threatened by her. The news about Adam would be difficult for him to hear, but some things in life wouldn’t get better until they were faced.
David sat back and looked out at the pregnant moon hanging in the sky. Whether or not he was able to take his own advice remained to be seen. Somehow, he had to stop looking backward and learn to live in the present, because that was where Kyra was. With him. Right now. Starting tonight, he didn’t want to miss a single minute.
Chapter Nine
Kyra prepped her press bag, wishing she’d brought a better camera lens. She wasn’t a photographer, but she might want to get some situational shots tonight.
The afternoon sun slanted through her bedroom, casting a warm pool of light on the bed. She and David had been up half the night talking and making love, and she was tempted to luxuriate in a short nap.
The clock read 3:48. No time. She still had to do her hair and makeup, as well as dress in her suit.
The press call was for 5:30 p.m., before the industry people arrived at 6:30. Most of the red carpet press wore glitzy dresses at these events, but she was going to meet David backstage after he presented the Best Female Vocalist award. He’d suggested she might want to get some tidbits for the Voice and Vibe blog while she waited, but honestly, she was so nervous she didn’t know if she could focus.
Sure, she’d met some of the artists who would be there, but she’d never been to a high glam event like this before. While she could fake it when she had to, she wasn’t a glitzy gal. Come to think of it, what did David even see in her? He was used to the best of the best. Hadn’t he recently dated that Italian supermodel?
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