ALMOST PARADISE

by Williams, Mary J.

  Skye plunged her fingers through Jax’s thick, silky hair, gripping his head. Not to hold him in place, he wasn’t going anywhere, but to encourage and, on the off chance her gasps of pleasure didn’t get her message across, to let him know she appreciated his efforts—wholeheartedly.

  Rather than tire her out, Jax’s efforts energized Skye. She felt ready to conquer the world. For now, she’d settle for returning the favor.

  “Your turn.” Eager, she reached for him.

  Settling next to her, Jax waylaid her efforts, bringing her hand to his lips.

  “I’m good for now.”

  “Good?” Skye snorted. “You’re spectacular.”

  “Aw, shucks, ma’am. Tweren’t nothin’.”

  Though Skye preferred his natural Australian accent, Jax’s Old West drawl was impressive. As was the size of his erection. Despite his words to the contrary, she imagined the latter had to be uncomfortable.

  “Lie back,” she instructed.

  Eyebrows raised, Jax complied.

  “What now?” he asked, placing his hands behind his head.

  “Condom?”

  “End table drawer.”

  Skye ignored his smirk. Obviously, she thought, taking a foil packet from the open box, Jax hadn’t pulled the protection out of thin air during sex. A bit distracted at the time, she gave her lack of observational skills a pass.

  Protection in hand, she found her enthusiasm for the task far outweighed her abilities. Fumbling like a rank amateur, once, twice, she tried without success to roll the condom down his hard length. Third time proved to be the charm.

  “Sorry,” she said, embarrassed but triumphant.

  “Any time.” Jax winked. “In fact, if you want to start over, for practice, I won’t object.”

  “Or, we can have sex.” A leg on each side of his hips, Skye placed Jax’s hands on her breasts. “Your choice.”

  Jax caressed her nipples, with his thumbs and his eyes.

  “Can you read my mind?”

  “Like an open book.”

  Slowly, savoring every inch of him, Skye joined their bodies. Nestled in the crook of his thighs, she bit her lip as her inner muscles gripped his length. Gradually, she moved, finding the proper rhythm, the perfect harmony she thought they’d lost so long ago.

  The connection, of bodies and souls, couldn’t last. Soon, she would return to her life, Jax would go back to his. But here, now, close as ever, they’d recaptured a sliver of the past. A part of him, however small, was hers again.

  The feelings, however temporary, were sweet.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ♫~♫~♫

  SKYE REFUSED TO sneak away. While Jax showered, she called a cab and waited to say a proper goodbye.

  Stubborn as always, he insisted she take his car and driver. Rather than argue, she agreed. A sleek black Cadillac Escalade arrived ten minutes later; a good hour sooner than the taxi service could guarantee.

  Unsure if his act of generosity was motivated by thoughtfulness or the desire to be rid of her as quickly as possible, Skye didn’t ask, afraid he’d probably tell her. In the harsh light of day, some truths were better left buried. Others needed to be said.

  “I had a good time.” Truthful, also a major understatement. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  Cool and unsmiling, as if the night before never happened, Jax bowed his head as he buttoned his shirt, his damp hair obscuring his profile. Dressed, he escorted her from the guest house to the waiting car.

  Skye wanted to touch him one last time. Or kick his backside. Something to drag a reaction out of him, good or bad. Instead, she kept her hands, and foot, to herself and slid onto the backseat. She stopped him before he could close the door.

  “Tell me one thing?”

  “If I can.”

  “Who are you, Jaxon Cross? The man I see now? Cold, unfeeling? Or the one who held me with tenderness, kindness, and joy. Yes, joy,” she insisted when he would have dismissed the word. “

  Something flickered in his eyes. Anger chased the emotion, leaving a cool blue reserve.

  “Take care, Skye.”

  Jax slammed the door on whatever she might have said. Turning, he walked into the cottage without waiting for the car to pull away.

  Skye sat back, clicking her seatbelt in place. Gazing out the window, she tried to sort through her emotions. Though saddened by how they parted, last night was not a mistake.

  As for Jax, she didn’t know what to think. He found success, he had good friends, plenty of money. His wildest dreams had come true. Yet, he seemed unsettled, as if something was missing.

  “I hope you find happiness,” Skye whispered. Her second wish for Jax wasn’t as easy to express, but just as important. She took a deep breath. “I hope you find love.”

  ~ ~ ~

  JAX ROLLED HIS shoulders, trying without success to knock out the kinks. Long night, but a good one. He sighed, his lips curving into a satisfied smile. Why kid himself? Last night was as close to heaven as his sorry sinner’s ass was likely to get.

  Just as quickly, his mouth, and thoughts, took a turn downward. Sending Skye away was a huge mistake, second only to the way he treated her before he practically shoved her into the SUV.

  After the night of his dreams where, for the first time in years, he felt like his old self, he ruined everything by reverting to a stone-cold jackass.

  “Coffee?”

  Quinn Abernathy Hart nodded toward the freshly percolated pot. They’d known each other long enough for Jax to understand her offer didn’t mean she would play waitress. If he wanted a caffeine-laced pick-me-up, he knew where to find the cups.

  Jax lost track of the hours he’d spent inside Ryder Hart’s home recording studio. At first, he was in awe of the great man, dazzled by the wall filled with awards. Now, with time, some success, and a few Grammys of his own, he understood the accolades were great, but the work was what mattered.

  Sweat and swearing, all in pursuit of perfection—a place Jax’s songs had yet to reach. Not discouraged, he kept trying, and would until the last breath wheezed from his lungs.

  To quote Ryder Hart, “Singers are made of flesh and blood, we wither and die. But our music? Son, the music lives forever.”

  Moving to the sideboard at the back of the room, Jax filled two cups. One, he left black, to the other, he added a splash of cream. He handed one to Quinn.

  “Thank you.” She took a sip of the lightened liquid, her gaze narrowed. “Something’s wrong.”

  “Because I fixed you a cup of coffee?”

  “Because you can’t sit still.”

  Watching as Quinn polished the lens of her favorite Nikon, Jax picked up the body of the camera. He peered inside, clueless how the thing worked beyond, push a button, take a picture.

  Ryder’s wife was the expert, an internationally recognized photographer. Art galleries lined up for the chance to exhibit her work. Because Jax had an in with her husband, she shot the covers for his last three albums. Because they were friends, he respected her opinion.

  “I think I made a mistake.”

  “Damn straight. You touched my camera.” Quinn snatched back the Nikon. “You’d think a man who threatened to annihilate the last stagehand who dared breathe in the vicinity of his precious guitar, would know better.”

  “Not a guitar.” Jax shook his head, horrified by her mistake. “A 1958 Gibson Les Paul Standard.”

  “Whatever.”

  Zoe Hart entered the studio, catching the end of the conversation.

  “Don’t pay her any mind, Jax. My musically challenged sister-in-law doesn’t know a ukulele from a Stratocaster.”

  Taking a seat next to Quinn, Zoe slung an arm over the other woman’s shoulders, the show of genuine affection softening her barbed criticism. Their relationship had mellowed over the years, morphing from wariness and suspicion to respect and love.

  Quinn didn
’t comment when Zoe snuggled close and commandeered her coffee. Instead, she snatched back the mug as though nothing happened.

  “You’re just in time. Jax needs our advice.”

  Zoe stood, flipping her fall of long blond hair over her shoulder. Taking a sweet roll from the breakfast buffet any four-star hotel would envy, she bit into the gooey goodness.

  “You seem jittery.” Thoughtful, she dabbed a bit of cherry filling from the corner of her mouth. “Why? Because of a recording session?”

  Jax and Ryder had knocked around the idea of a duet for years. The timing was never right. After a lot of Facetime during their last respective tours, and more arguing than expected, they co-wrote the song. The plan was for Long Time Coming to hit the airwaves, and hopefully the top of the charts, by the end of the month.

  “I’m not nervous,” Jax assured Zoe.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Faced with two women who knew and liked Skye, Jax hesitated.

  “I’ll wait for Ryder.”

  “Ryder will tell me everything, he always does. I’ll share with Zoe.” Smiling, Quinn crossed her arms. “Might as well cut out the middle man and spill the beans now.”

  Knowing she was right, Jax scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed.

  “Are men born raging fools, or do we develop the affliction as we age?”

  While Quinn contemplated the seemingly out of nowhere question, Zoe tossed her half-eaten roll in the trash, closed the distance between them, and grabbed Jax by the front of his shirt.

  “What did you do?”

  “What are you talking about?” Quinn asked, not giving Jax time to form an answer.

  “Last night, when Jax disappeared from the Landis party, I hoped he grew a pair of balls and finally cleared the air with Skye.” Zoe dropped her hand in disgust. “Did you pull your Dark Lord crap on her?”

  “Jax isn’t dark.”

  “Thank you, Quinn.” Eyes locked with Zoe’s, Jax was determined to win the battle of wills—for once. “At least someone’s on my side.”

  Quinn shot down his assumption with a shake of her head.

  “Sorry, bub. I’m Team Skye, all the way. My point was, the time when you would gnaw someone’s head off for a simple good morning has passed. These days, you’re more bluster than bite.”

  Hard to argue with a woman who commiserated through his failures and celebrated his triumphs. But he could try.

  “You think I’ve mellowed?” The idea didn’t sit well. If he lost his edge, he might lose what made his music special.

  “Some. In a good way,” Quinn qualified.

  “The truth?” Zoe wasn’t one to hold back. “You started out as a good kid, eager, endearingly sweet. Overnight, you turned into an asshole we barely tolerated. Now, you’re back to sweet. With an added streak of steel needed to survive life in the music business.”

  “What is it with women and sweet?” Jax grumbled. “I thought you went for bad boys.”

  “We don’t want wimps.” Zoe shuddered at the thought. “Nor do we want Neanderthals.”

  “The best men integrate the two.” Quinn patted the sofa. “Tell us what happened between you and Skye. You did see her?”

  Taking a seat, Jax sighed.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you talk?”

  The image of Skye in bed, naked, her face flushed with pleasure, made Jax’s mouth go dry. He cleared his throat.

  “We exchanged words.”

  “They slept together. About time.”

  Jax would have gladly strangled the smug look off Zoe’s face. Unfortunately, she was Ryder’s sister. Worse, he liked her—most of the time. For now, she was safe.

  “For a few hours, I let myself forget how she betrayed me with one of my best friends. When I remembered…”

  “You turned into a raging fool?’

  True or not, Jax didn’t care for the way Quinn threw his words back in his face.

  “I misspoke.”

  “More of a jackass than a fool?” Zoe kicked the side of the sofa, barely missing his leg. “Skye didn’t betray you.”

  After so many years, as much as he wanted to believe he was wrong, Jax couldn’t forget what he saw.

  “You weren’t there.”

  Quinn, always the peacemaker, laid a calming hand on Jax’s arm.

  “Joplin was.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “You don’t get off so easy.” Shaking her head, Quinn rose to her feet. “You’ll have to ask her.”

  Quinn left. Close behind, Zoe paused at the door.

  “You wanted some advice? Forget Joplin. Man up and do what you should have done six years ago. Ask Skye.”

  Alone, Jax rubbed his eyes. Ask Skye. Ask Skye.

  In his mind, he’d asked the question endless times. What if the answer wasn’t what he longed to hear?

  “And Jax?” Zoe leaned into the room, far enough to grab his attention.

  “What?” he sniped.

  “Tell Skye the truth about The End of Rainbows.”

  “Damn it, Zoe.”

  “Tell her. Or, I will.”

  Zoe Hart did not make empty threats. Jax looked around for something, anything to crush, his gaze landing on Quinn’s empty cup. Tempting, he thought, testing the weight in his hand.

  Half into his windup, he changed his mind. Ryder wouldn’t let chards of broken glass pass without comment. The last thing he needed was another Hart family member sharing their two-cents worth, solicited or not.

  Jax set the cup in the sink. Questions and answers and too much truth, he sighed. When the past decided to catch up with a man, it turned out to be a right flaming mother fucker.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ♫~♫~♫

  SKYE WAS PREPARED for her audition. She knew the script, her part, every part, backward and forward. She didn’t memorize the words, she felt them all the way to her soul.

  In so many ways, The End of Rainbows was her story. A young woman from a small town, with big dreams her family couldn’t, or wouldn’t support. The parallels were eerie. Unlike Laurel’s bittersweet ending, Skye’s life lay ahead of her, chapter after chapter waiting to be written.

  Hopefully, her future included a part in a major motion picture. Though she was anxious to know, she didn’t want a crystal ball to tell her the outcome. She was content to wait and find out the old-fashioned way—a call from Wyatt Landis.

  “Why do people want to know the future?”

  “Interesting question.” Zoe floated on her back in the middle of a large, crystal-clear swimming pool. “The chance to get ahead of something bad, I suppose. Or, anticipate the good.”

  The day Skye met Jaxon Cross, if she’d known how things would end, she might have made a different choice and not joined Razor’s Edge. For too long, she let the pain obscure the good memories. The fun and excitement of performing. The friends, some lost. Others, like Zoe and Quinn and Joplin, were back in her life, for which she was grateful. All because she couldn’t tell ahead of time what the future held.

  Skye would rather be surprised. Tonight was a perfect example. Never in a million years would she have predicted her day would begin with an audition and end poolside in the backyard of Ryder and Quinn Hart’s oceanside mansion.

  Tossing her robe onto a lounge chair, Skye dove into the pool while Fahma sat at a marble table, under a pink and white striped umbrella, drinking margaritas and nibbling mini quiches with Quinn.

  Pushing her hair from her face, she rested her arms on the tiled pool edge and marveled at the sunset over the Pacific Ocean. A moment later, Zoe joined her.

  “I’m not psychic, but I have a good feeling about your chances.”

  “I’m not superstitious, but I crossed everything possible before I walked into the audition.” Skye chuckled. “Wyatt’s assistant asked if I needed to use the bathroom.”

  “What was your opinion of Garrett Landis
?” Zoe inquired. “Besides, wow, these Landis men are blessed with spectacular genes.”

  “Garrett’s a very handsome man.” Skye would be a liar if she said otherwise. “He’s also an outrageously talented director. He barely said two words, and I was completely at ease—or as close as I could get.”

  “A few nerves are natural.”

  “The actor who was scheduled to audition with me was delayed. Rather than wait, Garrett read the part.” Skye was still in shock. “The man has serious acting chops. If he wanted to venture into another side of the business, he could give his brother Colton a run for his money.

  “Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes, Ms. Quinn.” The voice came from a speaker built into the table. The intercom system connected the rooms throughout the home.

  “Thank you, Tana.” Turning her attention back to Fahma, Quinn smiled. “The weather is so lovely, I thought we’d eat out here. In the meantime, please tell me more about your family.”

  “Appears Quinn has snagged another admirer,” Zoe whispered.

  Listening as Fahma shared a story about her father, a respected lawyer, Skye nodded.

  “Quinn has the talent to make everyone feel at home.”

  “She saved Ryder.” An old, remembered pain briefly flashed in Zoe’s dark eyes. “Love, without conditions, can heal better than time or medicine.”

  “Unconditional love?” Skye’s experience made her skeptical. “Does such a thing really exist?”

  “I think so.” Zoe shrugged. “We all have hang-ups, Skye. Mine were too numerous to mention. Smith loved me enough to stick around. Through the years, I’ve stuck with him. I’m grateful, every day, for what we have.”

  “Gratitude is a two-way street, darlin’.” Smith Carson, dimples flashing and a touch of an Alabama drawl in his voice, crouched by the side of the pool. “Miss me?

  “More than you’ll ever know.” Zoe beamed with pleasure. “You weren’t due back until tomorrow.”