Listen To Me (Fusion #1)

by Kristen Proby

  “They are, and they live in Hawaii.”

  “What took them there?”

  “A job. My dad is a college professor, and he took a job there so Mom could work there as a marine biologist. She got her degree in her forties.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing.”

  Addie nods and smiles. “She had me very young. It was a huge scandal.” She leans forward, as though she’s telling me new family gossip, making me smile. “She took my father’s advanced physics class when she was a senior in college, and they had an affair. She got pregnant”—she points to herself—“and they got married.”

  “Wow, that is scandalous.”

  Addie nods and shoves more bread in her mouth. “She hid the pregnancy until the end of the semester so my dad wouldn’t lose his job, and then they got married.”

  “Is he a lot older than her?”

  “About ten years,” she replies. “He was a child prodigy in math and science. He was a college professor at the age of twenty-two.”

  “That explains why you’re so damn smart.”

  She snorts and rolls her eyes. “He’d disagree with you, I’m sure. Anyway, Mom stayed home, raising me and being a housewife, and she never complained about it. She liked it. But when I went away to college, she decided to finish college herself, and now works as a marine biologist, with a love of all things sharks.”

  “Sharks?” I ask with a laugh. “Is she a thrill seeker?”

  “She got pregnant by her college professor. I would say so.”

  “Do you see them often?”

  “No.” She shakes her head, her eyes suddenly sad. “They’re busy, I’m busy. We talk on the phone about once a month.”

  I tilt my head, chewing, watching the change in her. “That’s a sore spot for you.”

  She shrugs again. “A little.”

  The waitress exchanges our appetizer cheese and bread with the main course of different meats and vegetables.

  “How about you?” Addie asks before I can question her further. “Are you from here?”

  “I thought you read the tabloids,” I reply with a raised brow. “My life story is out there for everyone to see.”

  “I only read the juicy stuff about women who’d been done wrong.” Her pink lips tip up in a half smile, but her eyes are shrewd, watching for any reaction.

  “You do realize that most of that is made up, right? It sells magazines, but it’s not the truth.”

  “So, you didn’t get a woman pregnant with twins and then send her away to Bermuda to have the babies and make her give them up for adoption, paying her ten million dollars to not talk about it?”

  My jaw drops as I watch her tell this story.

  “If I paid her ten million to shut up, how did the story get out?”

  “So you admit it?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “No, Addie. None of that is true. Jesus, that’s one I missed.”

  “I made it up,” she admits with a giggle. “But it would be a fun story.”

  “Let’s get this straight, right now, so we can move on without any suspicions. The band broke up five years ago, and since then I’ve had one girlfriend that lasted roughly one year before I discovered that she was more interested in my money and what my name could get her than in me, and I’ve slept with a few women since then.”

  “And before the band split up?” she asks, watching me intently.

  “I was a jackass,” I reply. “I let the fame and the attention go to my head. I slept with more than my share of women. I enjoyed the booze. Too much. I abused cocaine, because it, combined with the booze, was the best high there is, and I will never go down that road again. It nearly cost me the most important person in my life. So I walked away from all of it.”

  She blinks, holding my gaze, then picks up her skewer and stabs a piece of chicken. “So, where did you grow up?”

  “You don’t want to continue talking about my sordid past?”

  “No, I don’t.” She reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers. “We’ve all made mistakes, Jake. Especially when we were younger. I slept with men I shouldn’t have in my modeling days.”

  I don’t want to know this.

  “I want to know who you are now.”

  “Who I was then affects who I am now.”

  She nods slowly. “True. And maybe, with time, we’ll talk about that more. But for now, I’m content to talk about other things.”

  “Minnesota.”

  “Excuse me?” She releases my hand to eat more of her meal.

  “I’m from Minnesota. My parents divorced when I was nine. Mom remarried and lives in Texas with her husband. I stayed in Minnesota with Dad.”

  “Did he remarry?”

  I shake my head and eat a carrot. “He was kind of heartbroken when Mom left. He passed away a few years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her eyes are sad.

  “Not your fault.” I shrug, the familiar pain I get in my chest settling in when I think of my dad. “I miss him too. And I might feel a little guilty.”

  “Why?”

  “It kind of goes back to the jackassery. When I was with Hard Knox, we toured constantly. I was wrapped up in the band, and I didn’t see him or speak to him as much as I should have.”

  “I’m sure he was very proud of you,” she says with a soft smile.

  “I think he was.” God, I hope he was.

  “How did you end up in Portland?”

  “Max is from here,” I reply. “When the band broke up and he came back here, I decided to come with him. I bought a place just outside of Hillsboro.”

  “Do you like it here?”

  “I’m liking it more and more,” I reply truthfully, holding her blue gaze in mine. “It helps that you’re crazy about me.”

  “You’re just crazy,” she replies primly.

  “Seriously, you’re embarrassing me. Stop fawning all over me.”

  She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning, and I know she enjoys the banter as much as I do. “What’s your favorite kind of music?”

  I tip my head to the side. “I love all music.”

  “But there must be a favorite. A band, or a genre.”

  “Can I get you dessert?” the waitress asks, but I quickly shake my head no, and she leaves.

  “Maybe I want dessert,” Addie says with a raised brow.

  “I do too, but we’re going to get it somewhere else.”

  “Fun.” She smiles.

  “Um, baby, you have something in your teeth.” I point to the spot, and she frowns as she searches for it, making me laugh. “You got it.”

  “Thanks.”

  I pay the check, then take Addie’s hand and lead her out into the warm early summer evening, leading her toward my favorite ice cream place.

  “So, you didn’t answer my question,” she says.

  “You answer it first, and then I will.”

  “You just want to copy my answer to make me think that we have stuff in common.”

  God, she’s funny.

  “You caught me. Just humor me.”

  I glance down and watch her move next to me. She’s in killer red heels with her matching red toes poking out the end, and a black skirt, but she’s walking as easily as if she was wearing sneakers.

  Amazing.

  “Johnny Cash,” she replies, surprising the fuck out of me.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I love Johnny Cash. Especially the old stuff.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “No,” she says and giggles, then shocks the hell out of me by linking her fingers with mine. “He was amazing. I also like newer stuff like Daughtry and I’ve always loved the Goo Goo Dolls.”

  “What about Hard Knox?” I ask, unable to help myself.

  She looks up at me with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t have your posters on my walls.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about posters,” I reply honestly. “It was never about that shit for me.”

  “I loved y
our music,” she replies softly and stops us, right here, on the sidewalk so she can look up at me. “ ‘Simply Red’ is my favorite song, but I knew them all. Your voice gives me goose bumps. But that’s not why I’m here tonight.”

  “Why are you here?”

  She glances down, but I catch her chin with my finger and make her look me in the eye.

  “I’m here because I can’t seem to say no to you, even though I want to say no to you. I don’t have a good history with musicians.”

  “Dated a few?” I ask, feeling my gut clench. I know how musicians can be in relationships. Hell, I know how men can be.

  “My share,” she says with a nod. “So, I’m not here because you’re a successful musician, Jake, I’m here in spite of it. I’m here because I feel the chemistry between us.”

  “And because you like me.”

  “I didn’t say that.” She smiles now, relief in her eyes. “I’m still deciding on that.”

  I take her hand and continue leading her down the sidewalk to Sweet Treats. “How can I tip the scales in my favor?”

  “Tell me what kind of damn music you like already.”

  “I like the bands you mentioned,” I reply thoughtfully.

  “Of course you do.” Sarcasm drips off of every word, making me laugh.

  “But I also love B. B. King. Sarah McLachlan. Alan Jackson. Maroon 5. Sugarland.”

  “Wow, that’s quite a range of sounds.”

  “I told you, I love music. I respect it all. It all evokes different emotions, feelings.”

  She nods. “Where did it start for you? The music?”

  “Birth.” I laugh and pull her to the side as a bicyclist zooms past us. “My dad played the guitar, and loved music. The radio was always on.”

  “Did he teach you to play?” she asks as we walk into Sweet Treats and start staring at the menu.

  “He did.”

  “Should I get a milk shake?” she asks thoughtfully.

  “Baby, my boys are already in your yard,” I reply, eyeing the brownie sundae.

  She blinks, then bursts out laughing. “Now I have to get a milk shake.”

  We place our order and, treats in hand, walk slowly back toward my car.

  “How’s your shake?” I ask.

  “Chocolatey,” she says, and then sighs. “Damn you, Jake!”

  “What?”

  “Now I have that damn song in my head!” She starts to dance, moving her shoulders and ass. “My milk shake brings all the boys to the yard . . .”

  I stop and watch, laughing at her as she sings all the words, moving that sexier-than-fuck body.

  I’m a first-class idiot for taking sex off the menu tonight.

  “THANKS FOR DINNER,” Addie says as she unlocks her door. “And dessert. And putting that song in my head. It’ll be there for weeks.”

  “You’re welcome.” I grip her shoulders and turn her to face me, then smile down at her softly. “It was all my pleasure.”

  She’s staring up at me, biting her lip, her blue eyes wide and maybe a little scared.

  I understand that completely. She scares the fuck out of me too.

  I cage her in against her door and tug her lip out of her teeth with my thumb, then brush it over the plump skin.

  “You make me crazy when you bite your lip like that,” I whisper.

  “So you’ve said,” she replies, watching my own mouth. “Jake?”

  “Yes, sweetheart.”

  “Kissing me now would be nice.”

  “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not little.”

  “Just bossy then.” I cup her cheek in my hand, loving the softness of her skin, the way she’s breathing just a bit harder, the way the pulse in her throat thrums against my wrist. I brush my nose across hers, just barely skimming my lips over hers. She inhales sharply as my lips gently nibble hers.

  Fuck me, she’s sweet.

  Her hands grip my shirt at my hips as she presses closer to me, and I kiss her earnestly now. She tastes like chocolate, and what I’m quite sure is simply Addie. The kiss is slow and thorough, taking her all in. Her lithe, long body is pressed to mine, her arms wrapped around my back now, her nails barely gripping on to my skin through my shirt.

  God, I can’t control myself with her. My body, my emotions.

  She devastates me.

  I pull back, breathing hard. “Sleep well, baby.”

  She shakes her head, as if clearing the lust from it so she can think straight. “You’re not coming in?”

  I drag my fingertips down her cheek, her neck, then tip my forehead down against hers. “Trust me, I want to. I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life, Addison. But this isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon.”

  “Did you just use a running analogy?”

  I grin and kiss her softly. “Yes.”

  “Okay.” She plants her hand on my chest and pushes me away, then opens the door to her back. “Good night.”

  “Sleep well.”

  She smiles and closes the door and I have to take a deep breath before walking back to my car. The drive home is fast, as there is little traffic at this time of night. My house is quiet as I walk through to the kitchen and drink orange juice out of the jug, then saunter into the living room and sit behind the piano.

  Max is usually the one who writes music on the piano. I prefer the guitar. But the melody running through my head is piano.

  So I sit and play, thinking of a certain stylish, funny-as-hell blonde. The sound of her laughter. The way her body moved as she sang on the sidewalk.

  I play through the melody three times, committing it to memory, before walking up to my bedroom.

  I miss her.

  Jesus, I’m ridiculous. I just saw her an hour ago. And I was the idiot that chose to leave rather than take the invitation to come inside and bury myself in her for the rest of the night.

  I’m a moron.

  I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me. What is it about this woman that has me all tied in knots? Maybe I should stay away from her. Slow down. Give her some space.

  Fuck that.

  Finally, I reach for my phone and call her.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.”

  “Are you okay?” She doesn’t sound sleepy, so I know I didn’t wake her up.

  “I’m fine. I was just thinking about you.”

  Silence.

  “Why does that confuse you?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t,” she lies and I can hear rustling. “Aren’t you supposed to wait three days to call the girl after a date?”

  “This isn’t a game, Addie,” I reply, suddenly irritated. “We aren’t in high school. If I want to hear your voice, I’ll call you.”

  “All you had to say was I miss you, Addie.”

  I snort. “I just saw you.”

  “You missed me,” she repeats confidently. God, her mouth turns me on. In a million different ways.

  “Okay, I missed you.”

  “Now say, You’re always right, Addie.”

  “Not a chance,” I reply with a laugh.

  “A girl can try.”

  “I had a good time tonight,” I murmur.

  “Me too. Thanks again.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “A smile.” I can hear it in her voice, and then more rustling around. “And a sheet.”

  “Damn.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “A hard-on,” I reply.

  “At least you’re honest.” She giggles. “I kind of like that you’re all turned on over there.”

  “You’ve been turning me on since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

  “Please.” I can almost hear her roll her baby blues. “You did not find me attractive when I told you you’d have to audition for the position at Seduction.”

  “Actually, I did. But that’s not the first time I saw you. You were at that open-mic night with Kat the weekend before.”
r />   “You remember that?”

  “You were all I could see in that audience.”

  “Yeah, the lights were bright.”

  I turn on my side and laugh. “No, sweetheart, you were so beautiful that you were all I could see.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh.”

  “That’s kind of sweet.”

  “I have moments,” I reply, soaking in the sound of her voice. “When do I get to see you again?”

  “You’re singing on Friday,” she reminds me. “And I’m working a full day tomorrow.”

  “Friday it is then,” I reply softly. “Sleep well, baby.”

  “Good night, Jake.”

  Chapter Seven

  Addison

  “The back of that top is adorable,” Kat says as she walks past me. I’m sitting at the bar, going over next week’s schedule. “And you’re humming.”

  “Hmm,” I agree with a slight smile. It’s a good day. Jake played last night, and we had the best head count we’ve had so far at Seduction.

  And Saturdays are always busier, so tonight should set another record.

  “Earth to Addie,” Kat whispers, leaning over the bar toward me.

  “What do you want?” I ask with a laugh.

  “Why are you so chipper? Wait.” She shakes her head and resumes taking stock of the white wines in the cooler. “I don’t want to know.”

  “It’s not that,” I reply.

  “Still haven’t slept with him, huh?”

  “Not yet,” I say with a sigh and pray that changes very quickly. The man has every nerve in my body on high alert and he’s not even here.

  It’s so weird.

  And, I admit, it’s pretty fun.

  “Our numbers were very good last night.” I sip my latte.

  “I know,” she says with a grin. “They were good back here too. Your boy sure brings in the crowd.”

  “And they’re coming back because they like us,” I say confidently. “When I make my rounds through the dining room, customers rave about the food and the cool atmosphere.”

  “Same back here too,” Kat replies and stands to jot down notes. “It’s good.”

  “It’s fucking awesome.” We grin happily at each other, then fist bump, just as Marcy, one of my daytime waitresses, walks into the bar.

  “I have a question,” Marcy says, a frown on her pretty young face. She’s only twenty-two, but she has the work ethic of someone twice her age, and she’s freaking adorable with her slim figure, big brown eyes, and deep auburn hair, so she makes great tips.