While I was busy trying to wrap my mind around the implication, I noticed my eyelids itching. Subtly, at first, but it quickly became unbearable.
“Is your makeup hypoallergenic?” I asked Kiki in a panic.
She shrugged and adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “I don’t know. Do you have sensitive skin?”
“Incredibly sensitive.” I smacked my hand across my forehead, muttering how stupid I was to forget to ask about her makeup in the first place. I chalked it up to being too flustered by Warren to remember. Right then, as far as I was concerned, everything was Warren’s fault.
Rushing back into the bathroom, I yanked out a handful of paper towels and doused them with water and scrubbed every inch of my face in hopes I could stop the damage. It meant I’d be plain-faced and without makeup again, but at least my eyes wouldn’t swell shut.
When the tingling abated, and I was satisfied I’d halted any allergic reaction, I admitted defeat and dragged myself back out into the hall. There wasn’t any point hanging out in the bathroom any longer. Looking at my unadorned face in the mirror, I sighed and returned to the waiting group.
Without hesitation, Warren gave his best disarming smile and wrapped his arm around me squeezing me next to him, right under his arm. For having traveled over half a day to get to New York, he still smelled incredible.
“What do you say?”
“About what?”
“About our duet? We really should give the fans what they want, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” I murmured, feeling any will to fight draining away. Looking up into his hopeful face, I swallowed, hoping I wasn’t going to completely regret giving in. “We probably should.”
Chapter Five
“You don’t think I look like I’m trying too hard?” I asked, my fingers playing with the thin leather belt Harrison had strapped on me. Twirling in front of the mirror, I had to admit it added a nice touch to the flirty, floral dress I was wearing. The braided belt accentuated my waist, and the leather texture was a nice pop.
“Not at all,” Vanessa reassured me. “All you’re doing is making sure Warren knows exactly what he lost.”
It was the morning after my rather horrifying first encounter with Warren, and I was determined not to repeat that nightmare. It was early—I’d left my apartment before sunlight had begun to warm the eastern skyline. I’d laughed at the thought I’d had of crashing on one of the couches so I could save the ten minutes coming in and sleep longer, but Ripley would’ve been annoyed if I didn’t come home and give him his dinner.
In Harrison’s slightly cluttered, hole-in-the-wall office, I’d called in a favor of him and Vanessa to help me. In the tiny space, Harrison was capable of whipping up some of the most impressive textile creations I had ever laid eyes on, and as Harper Music’s main wardrobe genius, he had unlimited creative opportunities that had gotten him noticed in the world of wardrobe specialists. I considered it an honor to wear his clothes, but at the same time, they made me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. I wasn’t used to that level of luxury and sophistication in my outfits. Polyester suits and cheap button up shirts were about all I could ever afford before as a secretary.
I’d sorted through my clothes the night before and had settled on a dark wash jean skirt in a conservative length and a light blue button up blouse. I wanted Harrison and Vanessa to appraise the outfit I’d chosen to give me confidence in my choice, maybe offering me a killer pair of shoes or a scarf that would complement it, but the second I walked through Harrison’s door, both he and Vanessa cringed. I knew I was in trouble.
“You look like a secretary that’s trying to be casual. I mean, F.Y.I., nobody wears shin-length jean skirts. At least not since the ‘80’s,” Vanessa said.
I gestured to my outfit. “Obviously I do.”
“Well,” Vanessa said airily, “you shouldn’t.”
“If only I could be so lucky as to have you bestow your wisdom on me,” I said.
Vanessa examined her nails, pushing at one of her cuticles. “You’ll learn.”
“I was being sarcastic,” I deadpanned. “Not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth and enough heels in their closet to shoe a small country.”
“And that’s why we’re here to help,” Vanessa said cheerfully, completely ignoring my slight. “You don’t need to worry.”
I knew I was on edge. Warren being back and working in close proximity to him had my nerves frayed. When Mr. Drake heartily approved our piano and vocal duet, I knew there was no getting out of it. Letting a breath out through clenched teeth, I squeezed the bridge of my nose. Sleep deprivation, stress, and Warren all had my head throbbing without relenting.
“I’m sorry, Vanessa. That was a cheap shot.”
She pushed herself off the loveseat situated at the back of Harrison’s office, where they’d been sitting thigh to thigh as they made me try on outfit after outfit.
“Water under the bridge,” she said, giving me a quick hug and pat on the back. “I know how stressful men can be.”
Harrison got up too and checked the fit of the happy, flowery dress, tugging at the shoulders and snipping a few stray threads off the hemline. “That’s rather ironic. We men are under the impression that women are the complex creatures.”
“Tell that to Warren,” I murmured, my throat constricting with emotion. “One minute, I’m falling head over heels for the guy, the next, he’s gone without even a goodbye.”
Harrison and Vanessa exchanged a knowing glance while I swiped a tear off before it had the chance to escape the boundaries of my eyelashes.
“It’ll all work out. It always does,” Vanessa reassured.
“And if it doesn’t?”
Studying me with her dark eyes, Vanessa said simply, “Then it wasn’t written in the stars. Whoever’s meant to be your soulmate will come along, and Warren will fade out of the picture.”
I laughed humorlessly. “I’m not so sure I believe in soulmates. At least not anymore. It’s a girlish notion about romance that I think died a long time ago.”
“Let’s put it to the test, then,” Vanessa suggested. “If you aren’t convinced Warren is the one for you by the end of the tour, I’ll help you chase him off myself.”
“I’d like to see that,” I said, grinning as I imagined her chasing down Warren, threatening to stab him with one of her pointy stilettos.
Taking a step back, Vanessa tapped her fingers on her chin. “Harrison? Eloise is missing something.”
Harrison walked a circle around me before tilting his head and squinting his eyes. “A necklace? I’ve got a few chunky gold ones that might make a statement.”
“No,” Vanessa said. “She needs a push up bra.”
I tried to resist, but it was futile. Vanessa insisted I could use a little help up top, and while it wasn’t totally untrue, the thought of discussing my cup size—or lack thereof—in front of Harrison made me squirm. By the time I left Harrison’s office, I was five minutes late to my practice with Warren and my chest was more padded than Ripley’s kitty bed.
Hurrying to the practice room where I was to meet Warren and Tad, the clicking of my delicate, strappy heels echoed in the massive tiled hallway, each step reminding me I was tardy. Yanking the door open, I stepped inside, pushing aside my windblown hair and hoping my face and neck weren’t blotchy.
Tad looked up from where he was leaning on the piano, talking to Warren who was sitting at the piano bench. When Warren turned and raked his eyes over me, all he could manage was a strangled, “Oh, wow.”
I was thinking the exact same thing about Warren. He’d shaved off his scruffy beard, and his hair was still damp from a shower but parted neatly enough to tame his wavy locks some. He’d set his cowboy hat next to him but grabbed it to make room for me, tossing it over to an open chair. As I smoothed my hands down my front and walked over to them, I caught the scent of his aftershave, and my legs about turned into limp noodles. I was going to have to start wearing a
nose plug so I wouldn’t be so affected around Warren.
“Thought it would be a good idea to practice in something a little closer to what I’ll be wearing at the concert,” I lied.
I noticed Warren’s eyes run over me appreciatively before he forced himself to face the piano again, gripping the edge of the bench so hard his knuckles turned white.
“Shall we then?” I asked, my confidence given a boost by Warren’s reaction.
Sliding next to him, I tried not to let my skin brush against his for my own sake, but it couldn’t be helped. We had to sit close in order for each of us to be able to reach our set of piano keys. Tad guided us in a few run throughs before giving us the green light to continue.
“You guys don’t need me here, do you?” Tad asked. “I mean, we’ve run through the song at least three dozen times since yesterday, and it’s really coming along.”
“Need to ask a man about a saddle?” I teased.
Tad grinned and shook his head. “Not today. I have to call Diana about an issue at our restaurant.”
“Aren’t you the responsible business partner?”
“I’m trying,” Tad said with a light chuckle. He flicked his watch around his wrist and read the time. “You two keep going without me. You’ve got about fifteen minutes before I’ll be back to help Becky with practice.”
When the door clicked shut, I was keenly aware that I was not only alone with Warren but also sitting very, very close to him. I knew it was dangerous.
“What do you think?” Warren asked, tipping his shoulder over and nudging me. “One or two more times for good luck?”
“Sure,” I said, hoping I sounded casual—indifferent even—and not like an overeager puppy begging for another tummy scratch.
I grabbed my bottle of water and took a swig to wet my throat, which was not dry entirely because of singing. Performing with Warren and hearing his rich, warm tenor voice mingling with mine was reward enough to forget our breakup.
We picked up where we’d left off and sang the bittersweet duet all the way through, communicating with each other on a level that surpassed speaking. When we were done, a small smile crossed my lips as I stared at the keys. Setting my hands in my lap, I turned to Warren.
He met my eyes directly, seemingly looking deep into my soul. Reaching over to me, he brushed a wisp of hair off my face, and he focused on my lips. Sliding his hand around the back of my neck, he almost imperceptibly moved toward me.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt, and though I wanted nothing more than to lean in and be captured by his kiss to remember all the happiness that being wrapped up in his arms brought me, I smashed my hand into his face.
He didn’t immediately withdraw, instead, he opened his eyes and peered at me between my fingers. I could feel his lips on my palm, drawing into a smile, and soon, his shoulders were shaking with laughter. Pulling back, he pushed a hand through his brown hair.
“You can’t be refusing on account of the beard,” he said jovially, rubbing his fingers across his freshly shaved face.
I stood up and paced the floor. “It’s the music and seeing each other again,” I rambled, waving my hands wildly in the air as I tried to make him understand my scatterbrained logic. One minute, I was leaning in for the kiss and the next, all he got was my nervously sweaty palm. “We can’t trust ourselves right now. Neither of us wants to be hurt again. At least I don’t.”
“So, I take it you don’t want to…?”
“Kiss you? Nope. No way. Not gonna happen,” I blurted, my face heating to a raging inferno because of my blasted indecisiveness.
“Fair enough.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that I don’t want to end up like we did last time. It was a fireworks show when we dated before, all intense and powerful before we fizzled out. It was so great but, in the end, it sucked.” Sticking my knuckle in my mouth to shut myself up, I bit down hard. If Warren hadn’t already run from me once, he sure would now.
Sitting up straight, Warren looked at me. “Eloise Stauch, if that’s what you want, I promise that I won’t kiss you again until you ask me to.”
Chapter Six
“I feel lightheaded,” I said to Vanessa, pressing my hand to my forehead.
It was pushing the upper-eighties in Kansas City, but my skin was clammy, and my fingertips felt more like icicles. Involuntarily, I shuddered. It was the evening of our first concert stop, and I felt like everything I’d learned and practiced the past few weeks was evaporating out of my head in the early summer heat. Pacing nervously, I gnawed on my thumbnail until Vanessa grabbed my shoulders and smacked my hand away from my lips.
“That’s a disgusting habit,” she chided.
“It’s either bite my nails or twirl my hair until it’s so knotted that Casey will have to shave my head.”
“You could always go with dreadlocks,” Vanessa suggested.
Putting my hands over my entire face, I held back a scream. “Vanessa, you are positively unsympathetic.”
She bumped me with her hip. “You know you love me. Besides, distraction seems to help you a lot when you get nervous. Maybe while you’re wringing your hands, wondering what you’d look like with dreadlocks, you won’t notice that you’re next to take the stage.”
My eyes rolled back in my head, and I fanned myself at the thought, trying to get some airflow in the stuffy backstage. “Let’s not talk about me performing in front of a large audience.”
“Fine. What do you want to talk about?”
My thumb found its way back between my teeth, and I tried to maneuver my head so I could see through the gap in the curtains. “How many people do you suppose are in the audience anyway?”
Shrugging, Vanessa turned around to look through the curtains, too. “Lots.”
I deflated. “That’s what I was worried about.”
“You are so ridiculous,” Vanessa said, pulling me into a side hug for one of her pep talks. If I had a speck of her confidence, I’d be able to stroll out on stage without my blood pressure rising one tick higher. “People love you, in case you’ve forgotten. You came in third on the show, and I’m positive you would have come in second if you hadn’t thrown away your performance so I could recover my footing from my little slip up.”
I raised my eyebrows at her insinuating that I wouldn’t have been able to pull off first-place. “You don’t think if it came down to you and me, I would’ve beaten you?”
She didn’t even think before she shook her head hard enough that her exaggerated hoop earrings about slapped me in the face. “You’re an incredible singer, but you’re still learning to have stage presence. That’s what I have over you.”
“Thanks,” I said, laughing at her unfailing honesty. “Have I ever told you that you remind me of my baby sister?”
“No. But she sounds like the kind of person I’d get along famously with.”
“I bet you would. Maybe you’ll meet her during our stop in Denver. I asked Mandy if I could stay a couple extra days since there’s a small break in our concert schedule, and she said as long as Mr. Drake is happy with my performances, and I don’t need to keep practicing, it’d be fine.”
“Well, there you go,” Vanessa said with a smile. “Seeing your family can be motivation for you not sucking out there tonight.”
I groaned miserably. “You almost had me forgetting that I was here to sing.”
“Get used to the idea because Becky only has two more songs before it’s your turn. On the plus side, that means you get to cozy up with Warren when you’re done with your solo act.”
Wanda’s makeup job surely couldn’t cover the blood that rushed to my cheeks at that thought. I tried not to look, but I could see Warren from the corner of my eye where Casey was rubbing gel into his hair, messing it in the most stylish way. He caught me secretly gawking and grinned, winking at me. My stomach did a happy somersault in response while I quickly forced my attention to the crisscross straps on the shoes Harrison had m
atched with the flowy, pastel dress he’d chosen for the concert. Though I looked away, I could still see Warren watching me. The second Casey had his hands off of him, he hastily excused himself.
Warren strode over to Vanessa and me, his long legs looking fantastic as always in the jeans Harrison had put him in.
“All ready, Eloise?” Warren asked, smiling like it was the best night of his life.
“I guess.” I swallowed, but my mouth was tacky. My shoulders drooped and I admitted, “Actually, no. I really don’t think I am.”
Vanessa casually waved me away. “Eloise is suffering from premeditated stage fright.”
“What’s so wrong with that?” I said, flapping my hand harder under my neck. “Is it hot to anyone else? I’m practically broiling in my own skin. Can’t they get a few fans backstage?”
Vanessa flicked her gorgeous ebony hair behind her shoulder and adjusted the cluster of bangles on her wrist. She barely looked like she was glowing, much less breaking a sweat. “I think Casey’s behind that. Doesn’t want our hair getting messed up after he’s worked his magic.”
Delicately, Warren poked at his own scalp. “Mine’s not going anywhere.”
I didn’t have to touch mine to know I had sweat clinging to my hairline. “Well, if I perspire anymore, my makeup is going to turn into grease and slough off my face, I’m going to have armpit stains on Harrison’s beautiful outfit, and my hair is going to be plastered to my scalp like I dipped it in a dirty oil fryer, Casey’s magic or not.”
Warren pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and reached over to blot my forehead. Instinctively, I shied away. Warren’s lips twitched into a lopsided grin that made my already fluttering heart do funny flip-flops behind my ribs.
“It’s clean. Promise,” he said. I didn’t correct him that it wasn’t the thought of him rubbing a soiled hankie on my face—he didn’t seem to realize how close he was standing to me. I held still, not even breathing, as he gently blotted the fabric across my forehead, sopping up all the anxious sweat that was leaking out of me. “I might’ve tried using a dirty one on you when I was in grade school but my mama broke me of that habit of teasing girls before I realized I wanted girls to like me. Doing gross stuff wasn’t the way to go about securing their affections.”
Written in the Stars Page 5
