It Had To Be You

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It Had To Be You Page 18

by Francis Ray


  “He lied about his identity.”

  “But not about his feelings for her.” Joann nodded toward the recording booth. “She can’t take her eyes off him and he’s not much better. It’s out of our hands.”

  Grinning broadly, Peterson entered the recording booth with the two executives on his heels. “The album is going to set classical music sale records!”

  “Bank on it,” Zach said, turning around on the stool to face the man. “As long as she can focus on her music and not deal with crazy fans or the media,” he stressed.

  “Anything you want.” Peterson patted Zach’s shoulder. “I’ll let the board know. Laurel, contact my office with the name of the security firm. I’ll take care of it or anything else you think she needs.”

  “Thanks, Peterson.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Peterson,” she said.

  Nodding, he and the two men left.

  “If you’re ready, we can move on to the next selection,” Zach instructed.

  She leaned to within inches of his face. “Always.”

  He grinned and watched her take every step back into the isolation booth. Lifting the violin, she began to play.

  “Zach is doing everything in his power to ensure she’s protected and her music doesn’t suffer.” Joann nodded toward Zach. “I’ve visited a couple of times while he was working, and I’ve never seen him this carefree and happy.”

  Zach laughed and hooked up two thumbs as Laurel finished another concerto. “The music you selected is fantastic.”

  “Glad you agree,” Laurel said with a regal lift of her brow.

  Laughing, Zach stood and gave a regal bow.

  “You’re as brilliant as you are beautiful, Ms. Raineau. Next number.”

  “They’re having fun,” Mrs. Raineau said.

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Raineau opened the door to the control room. Laurel lowered the instrument. Zach came to his feet. “Mrs. Raineau.”

  “You make Laurel happy. I expect you to keep her that way,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am. I plan to. Thank you.”

  She smiled and waved to Laurel. “You played beautifully. I love you.”

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  Leaving the room, Mrs. Raineau went back outside. “I’ll get a cab back to the house.”

  “And leave me with all of this food? You couldn’t be so cruel.” Joann went to the table. “At least have a cup of coffee. Perhaps you and Laurel would like to come to dinner tonight?”

  Lines raced across Mrs. Raineau’s forehead. “I thought Zach would take Laurel out.”

  “He probably would if he wasn’t producing her album. He has a strict policy of not dating women he’s working with,” Joann explained.

  “They’re not going to see each other until the album is finished?” she asked, her eyes rounded in disbelief.

  “Not romantically. It’s one of the reasons he went back to see her last night.”

  “I guess she won’t need the comb I slipped in her purse then,” Mrs. Raineau murmured.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. I’ve misjudged your son.”

  “Zach is a good man. I’m proud to call him my son.”

  “I can see that now.” Mrs. Raineau nodded toward the handbag Joann had placed on a chair. “I see you like vintage handbags.”

  Joann glanced down at the ecru calfskin Birkin. “It belonged to my mother.”

  Mrs. Raineau laughed for the first time. “My mother carried the same black imitation leather handbag for years. We purchased her several designer handbags, but she never used one of them.”

  “My mother had a closet just for shoes and bags. My father loved her and never minded when her clothes ended up in his closet.”

  “My late husband was the same way about my things. He loved us more than anything.”

  “And you want Laurel to have that same kind of love?”

  Mrs. Raineau looked at Zach. “Yes,” she answered. She placed her Jimmy Choo snakeskin beside Joann’s bag and picked up a glass. “Would you like some juice?”

  “Yes, please.” Joann picked up a plate. “Danish or croissant. Or both?”

  Both women laughed. Chatting, they went to the other card table, sat down, and waved goodbye to Trent, Dominique, Paige, and Shane as they left the studio.

  Laurel couldn’t have been happier, and it showed in her music. She didn’t mind the long hours of standing or times when she had to go over a particular section. The music and the rapturous expression on Zach’s face were enough. It was almost like after they’d had sex. She giggled as they left the studio late that evening. It was almost seven.

  Zach frowned. “What?”

  “Since you told me to behave, I can’t tell you.”

  He stopped on the sidewalk. “I wish I could kiss you and then take you someplace where we could be alone.”

  “You’ll get part of your wish since you’re picking me and Mother up for dinner at your place.”

  “I’m glad our mothers like each other.” Waving Toby away, he opened the back door for her and then slid in after.

  Sighing, she leaned against the plush leather. “I should be tired and I guess I am, but I feel so good about today.”

  He picked up her hand. “You were incredible.”

  “Why, thank you.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Before you protest, you held my hand so this can’t be off limits.”

  He leaned his head against hers. “It probably is since it feels so good, but what the hey.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” She snuggled closer. “I’m calling Rio and asking his advice on a firm for the gate.”

  “I thought you might.” He picked up their joined hands. “I have something I want to give you.”

  She felt something cool close around her wrist and sat up. Her eyes rounded on seeing the turquoise bracelet she’d admired in Mexico. “Zach.”

  “I’d planned to kiss you and put these on your ears,” he told her.

  She saw the chandelier earrings in his hand. She loved him so much. She almost said the words. Each time he was with her, he showed how much he cared. “Why don’t you wait and plan on putting them on me once we finish the album.”

  He slipped the earrings back in his pocket. “Deal.”

  She placed her head back on his shoulder, hoping that when he did he’d finally tell her he loved her.

  The next seven days raced by. Zach and Laurel were in the recording studio every day except Sunday. Most of the time, they agreed on the direction of the music, but she wasn’t afraid to question him. The difference between Laurel and Lee was that she didn’t think she was always right. He learned that the quickest way to solve the problem was to ask her to play the piece both ways, then listen.

  “It’s annoying when a person is always right,” she said on the last day of recording.

  “It’s wonderful to be able to work with an artist as talented as you are,” he’d countered.

  She’d rolled her eyes, and they’d gone back to work. He loved to watch her play, loved everything about her. So why didn’t he tell her? He wondered as he finished dressing for the party to announce their collaboration. He was 99.5 percent sure she loved him, but that 0.5 percent gave him pause.

  She lived in Nashville. He was in LA. Long-distance relationships seldom worked for long. Adjusting his bow tie one final time, he left his room. Absence might make the heart grow fonder, but the cravings of the body got people into trouble.

  He started down the stairs. He wasn’t worried about either of them cheating. He trusted her and, despite the rocky part of their relationship, she trusted him.

  So what was his problem? He stepped off the last stair and headed for the kitchen to check on the food preparations. The problem was, his mind was telling him that the next logical step, at least for him, was marriage. Laurel loved touring. She wouldn’t want to give that up, and he wouldn’t ask her to. So how did they make it work?

  He had friends who said they we
re in love and continued to date. Others just lived together. He’d never ask her to live with him. Now that he’d had time to think it over, he realized that, to Laurel, loving a person meant marriage. Once he said the words aloud, she’d expect the proposal, and when it didn’t come, it would hurt her.

  Loving a person might be easy, but making a relationship work was another matter altogether.

  Entering the kitchen, he saw Kim working with the extra staff his mother had hired. He stopped to taste the smoked salmon and one-bite appetizers. Delicious. Nodding his approval to Kim, Zach left the kitchen.

  His mother had come through for him again, Zach thought as he walked through the house and noted the fresh-cut flower arrangements, the wait staff in black tuxedos near the front door with glasses of champagne. In small red gift bags were MP3 players with Laurel’s single. Each departing guest would receive one. Morris had given Zach everything he’d asked for.

  “Zach, the gate just called,” his mother said as she approached. “Laurel and her mother are here.”

  “Thanks, Mother.” He kissed her on the cheek. She looked beautiful, happy, and elegant in a long beaded citron gown. It was her idea to have the event formal in keeping with Laurel’s classical music. “Everything looks fantastic. Thanks for helping out.”

  “I was glad to do it.” She straightened his tie. “I would have been upset if you hadn’t let me oversee your first party. Especially one that is so important to you and Laurel. Come on. Let’s greet your guests.” Together they went to the door.

  Toby pulled up just as they walked outside. He drove Zach and Laurel to the recording studio every day. It gave them a chance to discuss the tracks—and with Toby in the front seat, it helped them behave. Toby rounded the car and opened the door. Laurel stepped out.

  Air stalled in Zach’s lungs. Keeping his hands to himself was going to be difficult tonight.

  She was stunning in a strapless turquoise straight gown with a bow on the side. On her wrist was the turquoise bracelet he’d given her. She hadn’t worn it since the day he’d given it to her. Her slow grin let him know she expected to receive the earrings tonight.

  Yesterday she’d finished the last of the ten songs for the album and, despite the fact that Zach and Jesse had to do the mixing and mastering, which could take seven to ten days, she clearly saw that as the end of her obligations. They’d drunk a glass of wine to celebrate, and then he’d taken her home. Last night they’d talked on the phone, but he hadn’t seen her again until now.

  He quickly went down the steps and took her hand. “You look amazing.”

  “So do you,” she said. “Good evening, Mrs. Albright.”

  “Good evening, Laurel. You look lovely,” Mrs. Albright greeted her.

  “Thank you.” Laurel leaned closer to Zach. “I hope you have my earrings.”

  “I do,” he said and turned to help her mother. “Good evening, Mrs. Raineau. You look beautiful.”

  “Good evening, Zach. Thank you.” Mrs. Raineau straightened. She wore a long burgundy gown. “Hello, Joann.”

  “Hello, Carolyn,” Mrs. Albright said. “Guests are already at the gate. I’ll greet them while you go inside.”

  “I’ll help.” Carolyn went to stand by Joann’s side.

  “Mother, Mrs. Raineau,” Zach said, his hand on Laurel’s elbow. “You don’t have to do that. They’ll find their way inside.”

  “Yes, I do.” Mrs. Albright told him. “From the moment they arrive, I want them to know that tonight will be different. Some won’t care, but others will.”

  Laurel hugged Joann. “Thank you.”

  “The first car is almost here. Go on in. Your mother and I will take care of this.”

  “Let’s go.” Frowning, Zach led Laurel up the steps and into the house.

  “What’s the matter?” Laurel asked when they were inside.

  “I invited some of my friends in the music industry who could help get the word out about your album.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Our mothers are not going to know how to handle them.”

  She frowned. “Rap artists?”

  “Yes.” He wanted her to see and understand his world, the world she was about to be plunged into. If she didn’t like his friends or open her mind to different types of music, he didn’t see how they were going to make it. “I hope you don’t mind?”

  “It’s your house and your friends. It will give me a chance to broaden my musical scope.” She looped her arm through his. “I know some artists in classical music that I’m not too fond of.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

  “I expect to be suitably rewarded later on.”

  He fingered the earrings in his pocket. “Count on it.”

  As Zach had known, Laurel’s single left the guests spellbound. As he’d also known, there were speculative looks from the guests as they moved around the room together. Only one reporter was bold enough to ask if they were romantically involved.

  “It’s always been my policy to keep the recording sessions strictly business. Thank you for coming.” Smiling, he had kept his hand on Laurel’s elbow and moved on.

  “The nerve of some people,” Laurel whispered, her voice tight.

  The question was mild, Zach thought, and it was only going to get worse. Laurel had no idea how vicious and mean people could be. If she stayed with him, she’d find out. In so many ways, she was naive. She’d been sheltered.

  “R.D., what an awesome party.” The willowy redhead threw her arms around Zach’s neck. She didn’t seem to mind that he still held Laurel’s arm.

  Releasing Laurel, Zach removed Venus’s arms. “Venus, glad you could come. I’m sure you know Laurel Raineau, the guest of honor, and the reason we’re here.”

  Venus, in five-inch heels, placed her hand possessively on Zach’s shoulder, playfully flicked his bow tie. “I want you again.”

  Zach heard Laurel’s sharp intake of breath. “I did Venus’s last album,” he explained.

  Venus, always on the lookout for photo ops and publicity, laughed, looked around to see if anyone important or anyone who could help her career might be watching, then pressed her hand to the valley of breasts that spilled out the purple dress she wore. “You were hard, but it was worth it.”

  Zach felt Laurel tense beside him and figured it was time to move on. “I’m booked up. Enjoy yourself.” He moved away, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and handing it to Laurel. “Nothing happened before or after.”

  Laurel accepted the glass, but she didn’t drink. “Not because she didn’t want it to.”

  “And that’s the reason I won’t go into the studio with her again,” he told her. “Access Hollywood is ready for you. I thought you’d do the piece on the terrace.” He stared down at her. “You look perfect, but do you want to powder your nose or anything?”

  A frown on her face, she glanced up at him. “People magazine and now an entertainment news program. Peterson was right about you.”

  They stepped outside into the cool night air. Guests were on the terrace and standing around the pool. “It’s a means to an end. The important thing is that people hear about your single and the coming album.”

  “But they wouldn’t be here if you weren’t the producer.”

  A few steps outside, people converged on them, wanting introductions, wanting to be seen or hopefully to get in some of the footage several TV news programs were filming. Laurel was gracious and smiling. He wished he could tell if she was annoyed. The reporter at the end of the terrace signaled that she was ready. “Good luck.”

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “This is for you.”

  She took his arm. “We did this.” Without giving him a chance to refuse, she continued to the reporter.

  The interview went off without a hitch, and so did the next four. Laurel had never had to be “on” for such a long period of time. She didn’t like it, and she hoped it didn’t show in her face or body language.


  Perhaps because she seldom went to parties, she wasn’t used to the people who were obviously there with their own agenda or the women like Venus who thought nothing of propositioning a man while he was with another woman. She was definitely ready for the party to be over, but people were crowded into the den watching Access Hollywood and waiting for her segment.

  Laurel sat on the sofa. Zach and his mother stood behind her, while Laurel’s mother and Peterson and the other Arial execs sat with her.

  “The music scene has a new sensation, Laurel Raineau. Access Hollywood was granted an exclusive with the talented and beautiful classical violinist and Zachary ‘Rolling Deep’ Wilder, a renowned record producer whose name practically guarantees reaching gold status. Here’s our reporter.”

  “Ms. Raineau, your music is beautiful and timeless. Your last records have gone platinum. How did the collaboration with R.D. come about?”

  Laurel blinked, then smiled. “You’ll have to forgive me. I think of him as Zachary Wilder, but regardless of the name, he has a heart for music. It speaks to and touches him. He understands the connection between the artist and the audience, and has a wonderful ear for what works.” She made a face. “I had to eat crow a couple of times.”

  There was laughter in the room and on the TV. “R.D., what do you have to say?”

  “Producing Laurel’s album was a personal dream of mine. Her music touched me while I was dealing with the death of my father. The world deserves to hear it as well.”

  Sitting there, Laurel was glad Zach had his mother by his side. Even so, she reached over her shoulder and felt his hand touch hers before his fingers slid away.

  “Is that the reason for the name of the album, A Father’s Love?”

  Moisture glinted in Laurel’s eyes. She blinked a couple of times on the screen and on the sofa. “I lost my father as well. The album is our way of paying tribute to our fathers and fathers all over the world. They helped us become who we are, and we’ll never forget them.”

  “Thank you.” The reporter turned to the camera. “I, for one, will be waiting for A Father’s Love to hit stores. In the meantime, our listeners can go on our Web site and hear Laurel’s first single from the album.”

 

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