by Kelly Moore
“This is it, home sweet home, at least until I find a place.” She tosses the car keys at me.
“It’s a nice area.” I follow her inside.
“Would you like something to drink?” She throws her bag on a chair, walking directly to the fridge and opening it.
“A glass of water would be great.”
“I have ice-cold beer.” She pops the cap on one and takes a swig.
“I didn’t picture you as a beer kinda gal.”
She licks her lips and walks over to me. “You seem to have a lot of preconceived notions about me.”
“With your name-brand purse and a bazillion pairs of sunglasses, I’d think you like the finer things in life.”
She takes a step closer. “It depends. I do like expensive things that I work hard to have, but I also like the simpler things in life.”
“Such as?” My voice is a low rumble.
“Like today, for instance. Being outside, eating cotton candy, and enjoying the company of friends.”
“You damn near killed me watching you eating that mess.”
She licks her lips and takes a step back. Her coppery eyes are warm and inviting. I take a step toward her, then she takes a step back. We continue this dance until her shoulders are against the wall. I lean one hand on the wall behind her, bracing myself.
The copper color of her eyes bleeds into the white as they dilate. She sucks her cheek between her teeth after her tongue sweeps out, moistening her lips. Tiny hairs on the fragile skin of her neck raise as lust fills her. Her eyes are locked on mine as she swallows and my gaze roams ever so slowly down her gorgeous body. Her neck turns pink with each rise of her chest. The swell of her breast pushes upward in her blouse, giving me a better view. I’m betting if I could see through her bra, her nipples would be hard peaks, twisting, trying their best to break through the fine lacy fabric that has them bound. I hear her breath change to small pants of air that are caressing my cheek, heating me up. I know beneath her skirt, she’s wet, wanting me to touch her. A needy sound vibrates through her throat, begging me to taste her. I wholeheartedly want to give her what she wants.
I dip my head down, drawing her mouth to mine. The sweet taste of cotton candy and beer roll around on my tongue as she gives into me. My hand finds her hip and draws her closer as I deepen our kiss, tasting every part of her mouth. A flash of Lyla’s face has me shutting my eyes and drawing back from her.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she whispers, running her hands through the back of my hair. “Just kiss me. You don’t have to give me anything else.” Her gaze bounces back and forth, looking into my eyes.
“I want to, but I can’t get her out of my head.” Probably not the wisest thing I could’ve said to the woman I had my tongue tangled up with only seconds ago.
“You see me, Jameson. I know you do. I felt it the moment we met.”
I drop my hand from the wall and shove them in my pockets like I always do when I don’t know what else to do with them. “I need to get on the road.”
“You could stay.” She runs her hand down my arm.
“I can’t.” I turn and head out the door.
She stops me before I close the door. “Please see me, Jameson.” Her eyes and body are begging me to stay.
“I can’t do this right now.”
“Then I won’t do this dance with you anymore.” She presses her lips together and crosses her arms in front of her. “We make a little progress, and then you shove me away.”
“I need more time.”
“For what? To forget Lyla? You’re never going to forget her.” Her voice raises in anger. “I’m right here in front of you, asking you to see me, not make your memories of your wife disappear.”
My eyes squeeze tightly. “I can’t.” I lower my head and close the door, shutting her out.
Chapter 7
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I find myself at Dr. Sanders’s office even though it’s only been a week since the last time I saw him.
“Sit down, Jameson. Tell me what happened.”
“I had another panic attack the night I was supposed to go to the bar.”
“Did you take the Xanax like I suggested?”
“No. I didn’t want to depend on it. I made it to the door then lost my shit.” I’m running both hands through my hair.
“You never made it inside?”
“No.”
“That was several days ago. What’s got you all wound up today?”
“Your stupid list for one!” I shout, and he chuckles.
“I take it you marked something off.”
I ripped it off my fridge on the way out the door and stuffed it in my pocket. I pull it out. “I went on a date and made a real connection, that was until I blew it.”
“Anything else?”
I smooth the paper out on my pant leg and press a finger to it. “This one, this is the one that got me in trouble.”
He leans over and looks at where my finger is pointing. “Ah, the kiss.”
“Yes, the kiss!”
“Was it good?” He grins
“That’s not the point!”
“The point of a passionate kiss is to always be good.”
I’m in no mood for his witty banter.
“I take it the kiss didn’t lead to number four on your list? Which leads me to believe that you haven’t accomplished number five either.” He folds his hands in his lap.
I drop the paper on the floor. “It should’ve led to more, but I stopped myself.”
“What exactly stopped you?”
“Lyla’s face. I saw it when I kissed Reese. What’s worse is that I told her about it.”
“I’m sure that broke your lip-locking session.” He snorts. “How did she react?”
“She was sweet, at first, until I walked out on her.” My brows dip down. “Which isn’t like her…well, it is when we’re not fighting.”
“You two argue a lot?” He grabs his notepad.
“Like oil and vinegar.”
“Oil can have sexual chemistry with vinegar. Vinegar sizzles when you boil it.”
“Yeah, well she sizzles every time I open my mouth.”
“Did you and Lyla argue?”
“No.”
“Maybe it’s healthy that you found someone who can stand up for themselves.” He turns his body toward me in the chair. “You can love two people differently but still have the same amount of passion.”
“Nobody said anything about love.” I glare at him.
He taps a finger to his chin. “Are you feeling guilty?”
“What do I have to feel guilty about?”
“That you feel something for another woman. You’ve been through all the stages of grieving, and it’s only natural to move on, to find someone to love. It doesn’t mean that you loved Lyla any less.”
“But what if she breaks and I can’t fix her?”
“Therein lies the truth of the matter. In some way, shape or form, we’re all broken. You are.” He points the pen at me. “Do you feel the need to hurt yourself?”
“No.”
“And neither do most people. Lyla couldn’t cope. Let me ask you something? Do you think Lyla would want you to love again?”
“I don’t know. She’s not here to ask,” I snap, then regret it.
“If it were the other way around and you left her, would you want her to be alone the rest of her life?”
“Of course not.” I scratch my forehead
“Then I think you know the answer.”
I leap out to the chair. “The answer is I need to go back to focusing on my job.”
“Then I’ll see you again, Jameson.” He stands and shakes my hand.
My finger hovers over her number in the car. Instead of calling her, I push Greg’s number.
“Jameson,” he answers.
“Did you get the demo I overnighted to you?”
“Yes, but I pushed it off on Reese.”
“Tell her I tried t
o get the Blind Shadows into my studio, but they said they couldn’t make the trip right now.”
“I’d tell you to tell her yourself, but she’s out of the office for the next couple of weeks.”
“She in New York?”
“Paris.”
“I did happen to see that her protege of a band has a couple gigs scheduled locally. I’ll send you the link. You can go to them, so they don’t have to come to you.”
“Is that Jameson?” I hear Aubrey’s voice in the background. “I want to talk to him.”
“Seems my assistant has something to say to you.” He puts me on hold, and a few seconds later, Aubrey picks up.
“What did you do to Reese?” Her voice is hushed but firm.
“Nothing.”
“You did something because she was cursing your name. I had to calm her down.”
“Sorry. I’m not as ready as I thought to make those bases you talked about. Things got a little out of hand, and I walked out.”
“Tell her you’re sorry and quit being an ass.”
“Whose side are you on?” I laugh.
“Yours believe it or not. I saw the way you kept watching her at the ballgame. It’s a way you never looked at me.”
Ouch.
“I don’t mean that bad, and you know it. You deserve to have those true feelings for someone.”
“I don’t know that I’m capable.”
“At some point, you have to stop feeling sorry for yourself and stop playing the blame game. Lyla is gone, and nothing you do or say is going to change that.”
“Is this your rendition of tough love?”
“If that’s what it takes, then so be it.”
“Thanks.” I chuckle. “For caring enough to kick my ass.”
“You’re welcome. Now quit pissing her off.”
I hang up and dial Reese’s personal phone, not her work phone.
“You’ve reached Reese, leave a message…that is unless this is Mr. Jameson Wilde, if it is, don’t bother, because you don’t see me.”
“Yep, I’d say she’s still pissed off.” I head back to my house rather than the studio. I kick off my shoes and grab a beer before I sit in front of my computer. I plug in the link that Greg sent me and check out where Blind Shadows is scheduled to play. It’s not far from the venue they were at before.
“I need to do this—no, I’m going to do it this time. I’m tired of my own fears holding me back.” I put the date in my calendar two weeks from today. Instead of driving, I decide to make a quick flight out of Sacramento. I’ll rent a car and drive to the coast for the week. I relax back and turn on the television, which I find mind-numbing.
* * *
Lyla. Her name plays sweetly on my lips as she rolls her hips beneath me.
“It’s time,” she rasps.
I press my forehead to hers. “I’m not ready. I love the feel of you around my cock.”
“It’s time to let go,” she whispers.
* * *
My eyes spring open wide, and I find myself lying facedown on the couch with the white noise of the television blaring in the room. I get up, collect my empty beer bottles and stagger to my bed. My empty bed. I look at the time and know that it’s daytime in Paris. I reach for my phone and call Reese again.
She’s changed the message. “If you’re looking for Reese, you got her.” I start to say something, thinking her voicemail is done. “But if you’re that Jameson character, then this isn’t Reese and you’ve got the wrong number.”
“Still pissed.” I’m tempted to leave a message, but she made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want to talk to me. I’m not a phone message kind of guy anyway. I’ll wait until she’s back and try again.
I roll over, tucking my pillow under my head, thinking I’m going to get a good night’s sleep. Joke’s on me; I toss and turn all night long.
Tired from the lack of sleep, I take it slow going into the office. I turn on the news, and my coffee is to my mouth when I see a segment on Reese Adams. The media is all over her along with some guy that has his arm wrapped around her waist. He’s holding a contract in one hand and stealing a glimpse down at her breast through one of her silky blouses.
I press my lips in a flat line as a growl rises in my throat. My muscles tense as a flash of anger starts to build. “Shit!” The show is prerecorded, and she should be in bed right about now. I snatch my phone and call her again.
“This is Reese, you know the drill…except for you, Jameson Wilde. I wait for no man, so…you snooze you lose.” I roar into the phone before the final beep.
I’d like to curse her, but I deserve it. It was over with her before it really started. Maybe it’s best left alone. If that’s true, then why is there the smallest of aches in my heart?
I tell myself this repeatedly, it’s best left alone, for the next two weeks, and I keep saying it as I find myself sitting outside the bar, waiting to hear the band. I pop a Xanax, swallowing it down without water. I grab my phone and like an idiot, call her one more time.
“It’s me, leave a message.” I keep waiting for the part directed at me, and it doesn’t come. I clear my throat.
“Hey, it’s Jameson,” I say like she can’t read the number on her phone. “I just wanted you to know that I’ve made a point of following up with Blind Shadows. I’m at the bar. I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know what I think of them.” I hang up and press the phone to my forehead. “Well played, Jameson, well played.”
I lock the door and move to the entrance of the bar. That familiar panic starts to set in, and I slow my pace. “You can do this,” I tell myself. Sweat beads down my forehead and warmth frames my body. I make it to the door, and the bouncer opens it, waving me inside.
My gut rages, telling me to turn around and walk out, but I don’t. I focus on finding a place to sit at the bar. I throw cash on the counter, getting the bartender’s attention. I know I’m not supposed to drink taking meds, but I need one to calm my nerves. I order my usual whiskey and gulp it down and chase it with a glass of water.
The small bar doesn’t hold more than two hundred people, and it’s half-full. Three people are being escorted onto the small stage. One sits behind the drums, one behind a keyboard. The girl straps on her guitar. I see them all feeling their instruments and realize they are all blind. “Fuck me.” Hence the name Blind Shadow.
The crowd quiets down, and they begin to play. As soon as the girl opens her mouth to sing, I’m drawn to her voice. It’s beautiful, almost operatic. She has total control over the notes she’s belting out. The drummer is amazing. I don’t have the talent to play the drums, but I can’t imagine trying to do it blind. The bar is still as everyone is lulled into their music.
The bar door opens behind me, and I turn to see Reese walk in with a man who is my competition in the business. Jealousy doesn’t ease in; it crashes like a storm.
I watch them as he leads her to a spot near the stage. They order a drink, and he steps away from the table, heading to the restroom. She pulls her phone out of her purse. I assume she’s checking her messages because her coppery gaze sweeps around the room until it lands directly on mine.
Chapter 8
Her eyes never waver from mine as she scoots her chair out and walks my direction. She tosses a tendril of hair over her shoulder and presses her red lips together. My gaze dips from hers to the soft, sheer white blouse she’s wearing hanging loosely over her black slacks. The red heels stand out, matching only her lips.
“You’re here.” Her voice is tender.
“And so are the two of you.” I tilt my head in the direction of the table where her date has returned.
She brushes off my words. “Are you okay?”
“I made it inside the bar this time.”
“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” she stammers.
“You made it pretty clear on your voicemail that you were angry and didn’t want to talk to me.”
“I know, and I’m sorry for th
at.” I watch her hand as it runs down my arm.
“Hey, Jameson. I didn’t think you did the bar scene anymore.” Aaron drapes his arm around Reese. “I was wondering where you ran off to.” He looks down her blouse, not at her eyes.
I have to bite my tongue to keep from blowing my cool. “Reese insisted that I hear this band.”
“She was very determined to get me here tonight.” He flashes a wide, white smile at her, and I want to punch him in the face.
“I didn’t think you were interested?” She cocks a brow at me, and I get her double meaning.
“I’m very interested,” I say, looking directly at her and then turn my head to the band. “They are as good as you said they would be.”
“I don’t know, man. I’m not really digging it.” Aaron pulls her tighter into him.
“I’d be more than happy to record a demo for them. I could rent a local studio for the day, so they don’t have to come to me.”
“I think you should pass. They’re going to require more effort to work with the normal band.” Aaron keeps staring down at her breast.
“So, you think because they’re blind they don’t deserve to follow their dreams?” My anger is building toward this asshole and the way he’s eyeing Reese.
“I’m just saying maybe they should stay small time.”
Reese jerks his arm from around her. “Maybe that way of thinking is what’s held you back from being successful.”
“I’m successful,” he barks at her.
“A successful asshole maybe.” She walks away from him. I’m glad to see I’m not the only one whose balls she crushes.
“What’s your problem? So, I don’t like the band. You and I can still have a little fun together.” He grabs her by the waist, and I stand.
“Get your hands off of her,” I say firmly.
“Mind your own business, Jameson.” His voice is heated.
I take her arm and tug her away from him. “She is my business.”
