ALMOST PARADISE

by Williams, Mary J.

  “Where we headed now?”

  “Breakfast. Your mother promised to teach Skye her pancake recipe.”

  “The one she only makes on special occasions?” Impressed, Jax let out a whistle.

  Cyrus shifted the truck into gear.

  “Speaking of Skye. She mentioned a possible Razor’s Edge reunion.”

  Jax’s happy glow dimmed.

  “I heard a rumor,” he grumbled.

  “You didn’t discuss the subject with Skye?”

  “Resurrecting Razor’s Edge would be a mistake. Obviously, Skye feels the same.”

  “Good way to get on a woman’s bad side is to assume you know what she’s thinking.” Cyrus turned down the driveway leading to the house. “Best way to ruin a relationship is not to ask. Think your mother and I lasted so long on sex alone?”

  “Jeez, Dad,” Jax grimaced.

  “You and your brothers didn’t get here by wishful thinking. Had a hell of a lot of fun, even when we weren’t trying for another kid.” Cyrus grinned, a youthful glint in his blue eyes. “Still do.”

  Jax wanted to cover his ears. Too late. He couldn’t unhear the words.

  “I’d rather talk about Razor’s Edge than your sex life.”

  “Figured you would.”

  “Sneaky bas…” Out of respect, Jax caught himself, even if the sneaky bastard deserved the curse.

  Cyrus shot him a knowing look.

  “Finish what you need to say, Dad.”

  “Razor’s Edge was a big part of your life for a long time. Kane, Beck, Morgan, were your friends.”

  “Then, they weren’t.” Knowing his father wasn’t about to let the subject slide, Jax sighed. “I moved on. We all did; we didn’t have much choice. Getting back together? What would be the point?”

  Keeping his eyes on the road, Cyrus stayed silent as a mile passed, then another. When he finally spoke, his words gave Jax a jolt.

  “Kane wrote me a letter. Couple years back.”

  Jax didn’t know how he felt about his father’s out-of-the-blue news.

  “Could have told me sooner.”

  “Well…” Cyrus gave his ear a thoughtful tug. “Didn’t think you were ready—until now.”

  Breathing deep, Jax made a conscious effort to relax his clenched fists.

  “How’s he doing?”

  “If I take his word—”

  “You can.” Meeting his father’s surprised gaze, Jax shrugged. “Kane could be secretive, surly, self-destructive, and an all-around pain in the ass. Yet, for all his faults, Kane wasn’t a liar.”

  Cyrus nodded, letting Jax’s need to vent pass without comment.

  “What he had to say was short and to the point. He apologized.”

  “You sure the letter was from Kane?” Jax scoffed.

  Kane was known to regret his actions—after the fact. But genuine contrition? In writing?

  “Seems unlikely from the man I knew.”

  “But you don’t know him, son. Not the man he is now.” Pulling up in front of the house, Cyrus cut the truck’s engine. “Kane wrote about how much the time he had spent here meant to him. Felt he let your mother and me down with the drinking and the drugs.”

  “He’s right.”

  “Not your call,” Cyrus admonished—end of subject. “Kane didn’t claim to have his life together. He’s trying—a one day at a time kind of thing. We pray for him.”

  Jax was reminded of all the times he did the same, when he hoped God would keep his friend safe because he knew Kane didn’t care enough to look out for himself.

  “Did you write back?”

  “A few times,” Cyrus nodded. “Letters were returned, marked address unknown.”

  “You don’t think—” Jax couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “We’d know if something happened. In here.” Cyrus tapped his chest, the spot over his heart. “Kane’s wandering, looking. When he finally finds a home, and I believe he will, he’ll let us know.”

  “I miss him,” Jax spoke without thinking but wasn’t sorry. The truth felt damn good, even if it didn’t set him free.

  “Good reason to consider a Razor’s Edge reunion. One night, one chance to put the past behind you.”

  “Dad—”

  “Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Cyrus cautioned, his lips twitching. “Just wanted to float the idea. As always, the decision is up to you.”

  Jax followed his father to the house as his brain mulled over their conversation. One night. For the first time, he felt a tug of temptation. Not enough to make up his mind. However, unlike when Joplin showed up out of nowhere, asking for an impossible favor, he didn’t dismiss the idea.

  “No guarantee anyone else would show up,” Jax muttered, unaware his father was in earshot.

  “Life doesn’t hand you guarantees, son,” Cyrus cautioned as they entered through the back door. He nodded toward the kitchen where Skye, her face smudged with flour, laughed as she flipped a pancake, her efforts less than successful. “However, if you’re damn lucky, you get a second chance.”

  “Yes, sir,” Jax whispered with reverence.

  “What’s your plan?”

  Where Razor’s Edge was concerned, Jax couldn’t say. Skye and his feelings were a no brainer.

  “Hold on for dear life.”

  “There you go,” Cyrus nodded with pride. “Want one piece of advice?”

  Jax didn’t need his father to say the words. He felt his heart skip a beat when Skye looked up and met his gaze.

  Don’t screw up—again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ♫~♫~♫

  FIVE YEARS HAD passed since Skye stood backstage, the noise of a restless, sold-out concert crowd filling her ears. She would have sworn on a stack of Bibles ten stories high, she didn’t miss the butterfly-inducing, pre-performance anxiety or the way her blood buzzed with anticipation.

  Peeking around the curtain at the forty-thousand-plus bodies, she realized she was wrong. Though she was here as nothing more than an observer, Jax’s guest, some things never changed. Performing was in her DNA.

  Of course, acting was different than singing. And community theater audiences were minuscule by comparison. Tonight, she remembered why she loved both and was grateful for the chance to recall the good memories she had made as a member of Razor’s Edge.

  The assistant production manager roamed the area, double checking her to-do list. Her lovely cocoa-colored skin glowing in the dim light, she held a clipboard in a death grip, her nerves palpable. Fresh-faced and twenty-three, tonight’s charity concert was a big step forward in her budding career.

  Anatta Bolden reminded Skye of Joplin, back in the day. Untried, but ruthlessly efficient and determined to make her mark.

  “May I get you something to drink, Ms. Monroe?”

  Seeing Anatta’s eager expression, Skye almost laughed when she realized a mere three years separated them in age. Experience was another matter. Funny how twelve months on the road with a rock band knocked the wide-eyed innocence right out of a woman.

  “Call me Skye. And, thank you, no.” She held up a bottle of water. “I’m covered.”

  “May I ask…?” Anatta bit her lip.

  “Yes?”

  “About Razor’s Edge. I’m a big fan, and I, well…”

  Taking pity on the young woman, Skye smiled. She was amazed by how many people fell in love with the group and maintained their affection.

  “What do you want to know?” When Anatta hesitated, Skye squeezed her hand. “Speak up. Might be the only chance you get.”

  “Kane Harrison. I’ve seen pictures and watched videos on YouTube. So dynamic. And his voice.” Anatta’s expression was borderline orgasmic. “Was he…?”

  “As sexy in person?” Skye finished with an understanding smile.

  Anatta nodded and blushed.

  “Promise not to tell anyone? Especially Jax?”

  “
Promise.”

  “Everything about Kane was better in the flesh. He was one of a kind.”

  Like his unique ability to make you care about him one second and hate his guts the next. Rather than tarnish Anatta’s image of her rock star crush, Skye kept her thoughts to herself.

  As Anatta left, floating on cloud nine, Carl Mann approached.

  Meticulously polite in a little cool, I have my eye on you, kind of way, the head of security treated Skye with the utmost respect.

  Carl didn’t say, but she had the feeling he placed the blame on her for Jax’s decision to forego a bodyguard while visiting his family, as though she were a femme fatale out to bring a good man down.

  Too many late nights binging film noir on TCM, Skye suspected, amused by the idea.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Monroe? Jax would like a word.”

  “Just one?” Skye muttered under her breath.

  “Excuse me?”

  Skye shot the big man an innocent smile—or as innocent as she could manage—and headed down the hall, Carl on her heels.

  Sponsored by a national beer company, the annual charity event helped children cope with the fallout of drug-addicted parents and drew a wide variety of international acts to the worthy cause. Jax shared his dressing room with two other singers.

  Skye nodded at the security guard, a woman who didn’t harbor the same feeling of animosity as her supervisor. With a wide smile, she opened the door.

  “Go right in, Ms. Monroe.”

  “Thank you, Melba.”

  Standard in configuration, the room was retrofitted with enough extra furniture to accommodate multiple occupants instead of the usual one. Skye found Jax alone, on the sofa, tuning his guitar. Emblazed on the body, a simple cross with a wavy line above and below.

  Skye cocked her head to the side.

  “When did you add the family brand?”

  “A fairly new affectation.” Grinning, Jax ran his fingers over the design before he set the instrument aside. “Did I tell you how much I like the leather and lace look?”

  The outfit was new, courtesy of Zoe Hart who insisted Skye needed something feminine with a rock and roll vibe for the event. The black lace leggings, tucked into a pair of equally dark boots, sported sky-high heels, perfect to show off her long, shapely legs. The jacket, red with silver zipper accents, gave Skye an extra boost of woman-power confidence.

  “Looking pretty sharp yourself.”

  Skye smoothed the collar of Jax’s navy blue silk shirt. The moment brought her back to their first concert when her nerves were off the charts, and he made everything better.

  The memory, bittersweet, brought tears to her eyes.

  “Hey.” Cupping her face, his thumbs brushed the wet from her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

  “The backstage commotion, your dressing room, the way you’re dressed.” Skye let out a watery chuckle. “The way I’m dressed. Everything brings back so many memories.”

  Jax, a frown creasing his brow, pulled her close.

  “Some good, I hope.”

  The feel of his arms, warm, strong, gentle, made everything better. Skye nodded. Her eyes still bright with tears, she brushed his lips with a soft kiss.

  “Tonight lifted whatever cloud of anger remained. I loved every second on stage with you. With Razor’s Edge. Thank you for giving me back the good times.”

  Carl cleared his throat, a reminder they weren’t alone.

  “Should I give you a few minutes? Half an hour, if you need more time.”

  Embarrassed by her display—and Carl’s implication—Skye would have pulled away. Jax shook his head, keeping her close.

  “I asked Carl to find you for a reason.”

  “Right. I forgot.” As Skye reached for a box of tissues, her gaze fell on his stained shirt. She brushed at the stain to no avail. “Silk doesn’t respond well to tears and makeup.”

  “Don’t worry.” He stopped her dabbing. “I always bring a couple of backups.”

  “In case a weeping woman ruins the first?”

  Inside, Skye cringed, hearing the jealous ring to her voice. But, dang it, she didn’t like the idea of anyone else crying in Jax’s arms. As always, he had an uncanny way of reading her mind and explained.

  “Learned my lesson about five years ago when the drummer for my opening act tossed his cookies all over my dressing room—and me.” With a wink, he took a clean blue handkerchief from his pocket. “You’re the only woman I let use my shirt to blow her nose.”

  “I didn’t blow my nose.” Skye proceeded to do exactly that—using Jax’s hanky. Recovered, she cleared her throat. “Why did you need to see me?”

  “Let’s sit down.”

  “Bad news?” Skye planted her spiked heels. “I’d rather stand.”

  “Relax,” Jax coaxed her to the sofa. “What I have to say is good, for the most part.”

  In other words, something wasn’t good. Skye braced herself.

  “I’m listening.”

  “A very generous concertgoer has offered to donate two hundred thousand dollars if I sing his favorite song.”

  Staggered by the amount, Skye let out a silent whistle.

  “Definitely good news. What’s the catch?” When Jax hesitated, she smiled. “Come on. Philanthropy is one thing. No one spontaneously parts ways with two hundred thousand big ones without an extra amount of incentive.”

  “Told you she was smart.”

  “I believe the words you used were sharp as a tack.” Unsmiling, Carl crossed his muscled arms. “You were right.”

  Jax felt the need to butter her up? Carl, who’s scowl deepened every time he looked at her, decided to join in? Not a good sign.

  “Stop pussyfooting, Jaxon.”

  “I—” Jax frowned. “Since when do you call me Jaxon?”

  “Seemed like a good time to start.” Fed up, Skye grabbed him by the beard. Bending, looking him straight in the eye, she made her demands clear. “Unless you want to lose some of your precious facial hair, tell me. Now!”

  Jax peeled away her fingers, slow and careful. Kissing the back of her hand, he sighed.

  “The song requested isn’t in my repertoire. Not now. Hasn’t been for over five years.”

  “Then why…? Oh.”

  Finally, Skye figured out where Jax was headed. She sank to the sofa.

  “Savior?” she whispered the word. “Why?”

  “Your presence here, tonight, with me, has been noted. Word spread.” Smiling, a twinkle in his blue eyes, Jax squeezed her hand. “Shouldn’t be surprised. You tend to stand out.”

  “Better if I stayed at the hotel.”

  “Better for who?” Jax demanded. “Not for me.”

  “But—”

  “When you said tonight brought back the good memories, did you lie?”

  “No.” Skye sighed. “I meant every word.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough regrets to last a lifetime.”

  Closing her eyes, she nodded. When she looked at Jax, her tears were dry, her gaze steady, her mind clear.

  “You wanted to keep our relationship a secret. I’m sorry—”

  “Me?” Jax scoffed, genuinely surprised. “I thought you…”

  Laughter filled his eyes before the sound burst from his mouth. A second later, Skye joined in.

  “Appears our signals were crossed.”

  “Appears so.” Jax’s expression turned serious. “We’ll always be in the public eye. Hell, after you get the lead in Rainbows—”

  “If I get the lead.” Skye refused to tempt fate.

  “The point is…” Jax shrugged. “Interest is bound to ramp up. Are you ready?”

  Skye didn’t immediately give an answer; the question was too important. She wanted Jax, wanted to be with him. They were older, better prepared for a relationship—glare or no glare. She learned to live without him once, knew she would survive the deprivation again�
�if necessary.

  Only a fool would choose bland and serviceable when joy, fun, and passion were right here, hers for the taking?

  Treading her fingers through Jax’s hair, sighing with pleasure over the familiar gesture, Skye nipped at his bottom lip.

  “I’m ready.” Finally. “For everything.”

  “Carl, why don’t— Carl?” Jax looked around the empty room. “Guess he decided we needed some privacy.”

  “Smart man.”

  Skye sank into Jax’s embrace, wishing for more, content with the brief but satisfying touch of his lips and the knowledge that soon she would have him all to herself.

  With a reluctant sigh, Jax ended the kiss.

  “No pressure to take the stage tonight.”

  “And turn down a chance to sing with you?” Skye shook her head. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to be the reason a worthy cause was deprived an extra two hundred thousand extra dollars.”

  “Impressive amount.” He grinned, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Flattered?”

  “I’ll say.” Skye wondered at the amount. “The guy would save himself a lot of money if he simply played the old recording.”

  “A live performance is always better.” He pulled her to her feet before picking up his guitar. “I already pledged a donation. If you decide not to perform, I’ll make up the difference. No harm done.”

  Jax’s offhand remark, the way he shrugged off almost a quarter of a million dollars as if the amount were pocket change, boggled Skye’s mind as her chin fell toward the floor.

  “You’re rich.” More of an accusation than a question, her gaze narrowed. “Really rich.”

  “I do okay.”

  “Sure.”

  Jax’s impossibly blue eyes locked with hers.

  “Would you be happier if I scrambled every day to make ends meet?”

  Skye realized how ridiculous she sounded. But the reality of their situations came as a shock. Her bank balance, after personal expenses and the cash she slipped her sister each week, bordered on anemic.

  “You’re rich,” she reiterated.

  “And…?”

  “I’m not. Obviously.” A horrifying thought popped into her head, turning her cheeks bright pink. “Carl thinks I’m after your money. Who can blame him? I’d think the same if the situation were reversed.”