by Cari Quinn
“Do you have ranch or something creamy?”
The waitress blinked at her. “Sure, Miss. I’ll find some.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
When the girl walked away, Simon sat back in his chair and clasped his hands in his lap.
“Don’t give me that look. I know you want the awesome-smelling dressing, but it will tear up your throat. It’s full of citrus and vinegars and spices.”
He slid his gaze away and out the door.
“Go ahead and pout. It’ll taste just as good with ranch. Besides, I’ve gone on tour with you. I know you like both ranch and Thousand Island dressing.”
He stabbed his fork into his chicken and jammed it into his mouth with the fake smile.
“Look, I don’t know what your problem is today.”
He looked down at his salad and stabbed at the vegetables.
She reached across and settled her hand over his. “I’m not trying to mother you. Do you think I like policing you?” she whispered furiously.
His silvery-blue eyes locked on hers. “Then stop,” he mouthed.
“What, so you can sabotage your very simple recovery plan? That’s childish.”
He stood and his hands fisted at his sides. He dropped his napkin into his chair and headed to the back of the café.
She blew out a breath. “Dammit.”
The waitress came back with both ranch and a creamy Italian. Margo smiled at her. “Thanks.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Fine. Just too much heat today.”
“Oh, I know it. I’ve been working here all year and I just can’t get used to the humidity. Especially lately.”
Margo drizzled on some ranch on hers, even though she really wanted the homemade vinaigrette. If he had to suffer, she would too. “August is a tough month. You’d think the rain would bring it down, but it only gets worse.”
“Yes!” The girl used her order pad to fan her face. “Do you need more tea or anything?”
“Do you have a raspberry syrup or anything for the tea?”
“We have peach.”
“Good. Add that to both of our refills, please.”
Simon might be in a better mood if he had some sweetness in his life. He seemed to have a sweet tooth. She sighed and took out her phone. She took a random picture of the café and shot a text to Lila.
Island paradise, too bad I’m having lunch with a grouchy lion.
She set her phone down and stabbed at her salad. The ranch was actually amazing as well. Also homemade as far as she could tell. She stole a glance at the back of the café and still no sign of Simon. She hoped he didn’t stalk off in a sulk. He didn’t act like a two-year-old often, but he’d been off most of the day.
Sorry my news killed the mood. I have every confidence you can find a shirt—or lack of shirt—to get his mind off it.
Margo frowned at her phone. What news? She hadn’t gotten an update. Then again, she wasn’t actually a member of the band. Times like these acutely reminded her of that fact.
Are you saying S can be coerced with sins of the flesh?
All men can. It’s that swinging appendage between their legs that qualifies them.
I’m afraid I must agree. Probably why I bought an obscenely tiny bikini for the first time in my life. I guess I’ll have to dig it out earlier than I thought.
S isn’t exactly money-centric, but it definitely was a hit I was hoping to avoid.
Margo sagged back against her chair. She smiled absently at the waitress as she put a pitcher of iced tea on the table. “Thanks.”
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
Margo nodded.
She picked up her phone again. Lila probably thought Simon had told her what was going on. Reading between the texts she was pretty sure some sort of contract had come back to bite Oblivion. Lila had talked to her—more like bitched in a scathing barrage of texts—about what she’d been going through with the abrupt end of the tour. She was careful not to give too much detail, but she had a feeling Lila’s wine-influenced texting was a little more freeform than her coffee-induced texts.
Since Margo had never really had a girlfriend to talk to, either by text or phone, she’d looked forward to every one of them. She hadn’t realized just how lonely she’d become. Work usually kept her too busy to notice that she only went out with friends on occasion.
Siobhan usually kept her entertained, but she’d been busy with her new shows. Not to mention the whole new set of friends she’d made in the city. She couldn’t fault her. She wasn’t exactly the best about keeping in contact.
Lila was different.
They had a similar way of talking and a similar background.
I’ll keep him on track.
You’re good for him. And he’s good for you. But if I see sex pictures on the internet, I’ll kick your ass.
We’ll keep them to the cloud accounts.
Such a bitch.
Hahaha. Queen Bitch, thanks.
She put her phone down as Simon reappeared from the bathroom. He sat back down with a half smile and sipped from his glass. When he finished it off and refilled, she figured the bit of sweetness was a hit. He sighed and picked up the ranch and doused his salad.
She shook her head and kept munching. “Have you talked to anyone at home?”
He shrugged and stuffed a forkful of greens and chicken into his mouth.
She wasn’t sure if she should push the subject and let him know she knew or let it slide. It wasn’t like she could do anything to help him. But it certainly explained his mood.
Money didn’t mean a whole lot to Simon, but she had a feeling the real issue was a bit more than money. She’d done her homework over the years since she’d met the band. Some out of general curiosity, and some because Simon was a hard man to forget.
She knew they came from meager beginnings. She wasn’t sure if he was worried about losing everything, or something more personal. Finances for a musician were wide and varied. Simon had never been the type to spend left and right. He didn’t have three cars and two houses and an apartment in Madrid. He didn’t flash cash around like some of the musicians she’d known.
But something was bothering him.
They finished eating and she swallowed the urge to take the check when it came. Simon snatched it up and tucked a card into the billfold before she could pull money out of her paltry cash stash.
When he helped her out of her chair and took their bags, she didn’t say a word. They wandered through the bazaar-like shops set up in the main area. When he wandered into a T-shirt place with rude slogans, she found herself picking through a jewelry cart. She didn’t have the opportunity to wear jewelry much with her violin.
Either she was in a symphony uniform or she was dressed down. But a waterfall of thin gold chains drew her eye. She slipped her fingers along the deep V of the necklace, but frowned when the Y chain linked to another larger chain.
“It’s sort of a slave bracelet in necklace form.”
She smiled at the salesgirl. She was probably going to regret asking. It was hard to shake off the salespeople on the island in any situation, but her curiosity got the better of her. “I’m not sure what that means.”
“May I?” The woman unhooked the chain from the display.
“Oh, I don’t need it. I was just—” The woman pulled her in front of the long mirror. “Okay…”
She plucked the hat off of her and draped the chain down the front of her. “It’s made for the bikini-wearer. To show off tanned skin like yours.” Her voice had the lyrical flavor of the islands.
Margo’s eyes widened as the woman shifted her bikini strap in the back and pulled the chain around her middle to lay just above her belly button. The crystals flashed down the center of her chest and accentuated her darkened skin and more than enough cleavage. But the thin chain was almost invisible except for little moments where the light hit it.
It was sexy and elegant.
&n
bsp; “Oh, you’re good.”
The woman’s teeth flashed behind her. “No, you’re just in the right frame of mind. For a man, yes?”
Was it stamped on her forehead, for God’s sake?
“I saw the little bites near the tie at your neck. A man who leaves little marks wants other men to know you’re his. It’s a possessive gesture.”
“It’s a hickey.”
“No, purple splotches left by boys are hickeys. Those are not hickeys.”
Margo flushed. That’s how she felt about them too. She crossed her arms over her belly and felt the fine chain move around on her skin. It brought up goosebumps and she suddenly wished for her shirt.
“Don’t be ashamed. A woman’s sexuality is her finest tool.”
“I don’t want to manipulate him.” She lifted her hands to unfasten the chain.
“No. You know it looks good on you.”
Margo lowered her arms. She couldn’t deny it.
“Don’t dismiss your power as a woman. Yes, some use it to manipulate, but some use it as it’s intended. To bring joy in your relationship, but also to make him remember what’s important.”
She touched the chain. “You’re a good saleswoman. Do I get the advice for free?”
“Comes with the chain. And you should wear it now. Make him remember that whatever is going on off-island, it’s the here and now that matters.”
She grinned in the mirror at the woman. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
Margo turned and flicked through a bunch of rosaries and saint medals, finally coming to one with an extra medallion in the shape of a sand dollar and a sea stone as blue as the water.
“St. Jude.”
“Patron saint of lost causes,” Margo murmured and drew it off the little plastic arm.
“You know your saints.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Grew up in Boston. Catholic school.” She added it to the pile.
Margo turned to the bounty of jewelry on the cart. She fingered a thin bangle that was big enough to fit up her arm to above her elbow. As well as a few temporary tattoos in the gold fleck look that was currently fashionable.
It was time to make him remember they were here to heal and have fun. There was more than enough reality waiting for both of them when they got back for his follow-up exams.
“I’ll take these too.” She nibbled on her bottom lip then snagged a pair of gold hoop earrings off the display. “And these.” She didn’t get to wear jewelry when she played, but the violin wasn’t exactly her accessory of choice for the next week.
“That’s the spirit.”
As the woman rang up her purchases, Margo sent off a quick text to Kim. She hoped the longtime housekeeper still had some of their old supplies.
The saleswoman smiled. “There you are, darlin’.”
Margo smiled back. “Thank you…” She trailed off.
“Diane.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Diane. You may have just saved my afternoon.”
“Glad to help.”
Margo tucked her purchases into her bag and left on the chain. Now she just had to find Mr. Grouchy and change his mood.
Sixteen
Simon tapped his finger on the desk as the girl painstakingly folded his shirts. She kept squinting at him and chewing on her lip. He’d gone a few days without being recognized and hoped to have a few more.
Finally, she tucked the six shirts into the bag and tilted her head. “You’re famous, aren’t you?”
He pressed his lips together. So much for that.
“Are you on that vampire show?”
Simon took off his aviators. Vampire show? That was a new one. Deciding to play along, he held up his finger in front of his lips.
“I knew it. Damon is always so clean-shaven so I didn’t recognize you.” She snapped her gum. “You picked a pretty place to vacation though. Even if it looks like a storm is coming through.” She snapped her gum again. “Usually one every day this time of year.”
He smiled and gave her a wink as he traded cash for the shirts.
“I won’t tell anyone. Famous people come through here all the time.” She winked. “Have a great day.”
God, he hoped he didn’t look that weird when he winked at her. He put his shades on and slipped out of the store back into the main market. He scanned the faces for Margo. Her cute floppy hat was usually easy to spot.
The bright sunshine that had filled the vendor area was gone and the greens seemed even brighter in the filtered light. Finally, he spotted her at the fringes of the jewelry carts. Her hat was off and her hair was piled up in one of those messy knots she created by the magic of female fingers.
Her skin had been darkened by days in the sun and there was an extra shimmer between her breasts and around her waist that made him stop in the middle of the crowd. She turned her head and huge gold hoops accentuated her long neck.
Jesus fuck, she was beautiful.
She downplayed her looks more than half the time. He didn’t mind it, because she was gorgeous to him, no matter what. But to see her here, with her lush body on display enough that other people noticed, he was torn between jealousy and pride.
When she spotted him and waved, his gut heated and he finally got his feet moving to meet her in the middle. Droplets of rain dotted the flagstone by the time he reached her.
“Looks like we’re going to get a little storm.”
“Little?” he mouthed and looked up. The clouds were steel gray and swollen with rain.
“Oh, this is nothing. If you hear the hurricane horns, then we worry.”
His eyebrows shot up. That didn’t sound good.
She grabbed the front of his shirt as the light drops turned to sheets of rain. People scattered to the small alcoves all over the grounds. Evidently the architect had designed the place with freak rain showers in mind.
But there were a ton of people squeezing into far too few spots.
“Run for the parking garage?” she asked over the echoing drops.
He looked down at himself. He was already soaked to the skin and the rain was warm, instead of cool. Wasn’t rain supposed to help the humidity lighten up? Now he was just wet and hot. He nodded.
They skidded their way out into the walkway. There were a couple of brave souls walking with umbrellas, but for the most part it was clear sailing. As if the the rain shower wasn’t enough, suddenly it was like a faucet was turned on. The rain poured and rivulets of sandy water climbed over the tops of his flips to his ankles.
They slogged into the parking garage stairwell, Margo’s laughter echoing off the cement stairs and walls. Her hair was plastered to her head, and in the dim light, the little chain he’d noticed before was far more apparent. It was a little mapped course meant just for him.
He crowded her into the wall.
She swiped her hand down her face. “Here?”
He braced a hand above her head and pressed his forehead to hers. Both of them were breathing hard from running, and the rain wore on with thunder booming in the distance. He traced the line of her chain to the trail of crystals that ran from between her breasts to just above her bellybutton.
“Like it?”
“Oh, yeah,” he mouthed. He followed the chain around her waist and dragged her closer.
She smiled into his kiss. “A very smart, very persuasive saleswoman earned her commission on me today.”
He brushed his fingertips along the curve of her ass and thigh then hooked her knee onto his hip. He hoped this showed just how much he appreciated the saleswoman’s business sense. He usually liked silver over gold with his own wrist full of chains from the tour.
He’d felt naked without it the first day, but the constant reminder of it on him had been too much to deal with on top of everything else. But he liked the gold on her. It suited her warm tones of skin and dark hair.
Besides, he was quite sure they could make the chain in silver or platinum as well. She’d look goo
d in that with diamonds between her breasts.
His cock hardened at the thought of her wearing his diamond—no, diamonds. Not just one. A string of them around her elegant neck perhaps. But the idea of her wearing his ring took hold and made his heart race.
He’d never thought marriage would ever enter his mind.
It still didn’t quite fit. But if it fit with anyone, it would be Violin Girl. And that was beyond terrifying. More that he was afraid to even entertain the thought. Forevers were for suckers or baby-makers. And that wasn’t him.
He lifted her knee higher on his hip and fit his cock against the wet denim between her thighs. This is what made sense. Touching her, loving her—not diamonds.
Her neck was cool to the touch as he laved his tongue along the sensitive flesh behind her ear. She trembled for him as he felt her pulse speed under his mouth. It was raging fast like his own. Because the stairwell was full of memories of the road?
Or just because they were in each other’s sphere?
She cupped his face and brought his mouth to hers. Just then it didn’t matter. Touching her, tasting her, loving her—that was enough. She writhed against his cock, and each uptilt of her hips made him hungry to get inside her.
He pushed at her shorts, crouching in front of her to yank them down and get her foot free. He wound her leg back around his waist and pushed aside her bikini bottoms with one hand and unzipped his cargos with the other. He swiped the head of his cock over her lips and found her slick with rain and the silky wetness that he craved.
He didn’t pause, didn’t give her a moment to change her mind. He thrust inside her and blew out a breath as she squeezed around him. Her nails dug under his shirt and up his back. He grabbed her hands and lifted them above her head. Their similar heights made it easy to line them up and take her where she needed, where he needed her.
