by Julia London
Audrey glanced out the window—it looked like a blistering morning, and reminded her of a gig she’d had in Austin once, at The Backyard, an outdoor music venue. It had been blistering that day, too, but it was one of the best sets of her life. It was all acoustic, just her and a guitar—no pop—just the ballads she loved to write in alternative folk style and then transform into alternative rock when she got bored with them. Those were the songs she loved creating, the songs that made her want to get out of bed every morning.
Sometimes she felt like she wasn’t supposed to be where she was now, like she was living someone else’s life. If it hadn’t been for Lucas’s idea to turn her into a star, she might have stayed in the safety zone of her old music the rest of her life. Left to her own devices, she probably never would have jumped out to experience all that life had to offer.
Oh, but she would have missed so much—she would have missed the taste of fame and the chance to sing to twelve thousand people. Her new release was sitting at number 4 on the charts, right behind Kelly Clarkson and just ahead of Pink. Wasn’t that what every musician dreamed of happening?
But then again, if she’d stayed in Austin, she probably wouldn’t have some freak scaring the shit out of her.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts; Lucas, still talking, opened the door, and without speaking, without even a gesture, turned around and walked back into the room, his mind on his conversation with the officer.
From across the room, Audrey’s eyes met Jack’s. He was standing at the threshold, his arm up and braced against the door jamb, the other hand on his waist. What surprised her was how she instantly felt safer with him in the room.
One thick, dark strand of hair hung over his eye as he took her in. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Audrey nodded.
He straightened up and walked into the room, closing the door softly behind him, ignoring the cops. He glanced briefly at Lucas’s back, and Audrey did not miss the slight, but unmistakable look of disdain that glanced his features. “You should have called me,” he said, reaching her at the table.
“I sent Courtney.”
“I would prefer you call me the moment something like this happens. So you want to tell me about it?”
Audrey shrugged and glanced out the window. “There’s really nothing to tell. A box of chocolates was delivered with a note from someone who thinks I am teasing him by sending signals to him, coded in my songs. And that he thinks I am such a whore and I should die. You know, the usual. I’d show you the note, but the police took it.”
“When did the chocolates arrive?”
“About nine this morning. A bellboy brought them up from the front desk. They are tracking that down now, but they won’t find him. Look at all the flowers,” she said, sweeping her arm around the living area. “They’ve been running stuff up here every hour since we arrived.”
Jack nodded, but he didn’t look at the flowers. He just kept looking into her eyes, making her feel strangely exposed. It was almost as if he could see inside her somehow and knew how miserable and vulnerable she felt at that moment, how close she thought she was to crumbling. His scrutiny made her nervous and she abruptly stood up, tossing down her pen.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again.
“I’m fine,” she said, and turned away from his probing eyes so abruptly that she collided with the table there. “I just want to know when we are leaving. There is a lot I need to do in Minneapolis—we need to rehearse ‘Frantic’ because I am screeching the last few notes, and someone needs to do something about the lighting—”
“No, no, no!” Lucas interrupted loudly from his perch on the edge of the couch. He held one finger up to the officer as he spoke to Audrey. “The show is fine. We are not going to change things because some pimply-faced punk reviewer in Omaha thinks your set is too dark. Get a grip,” he said sternly. “It’s one fucking review.” And just as abruptly as he had snapped at her, he returned to his conversation.
Audrey was so taken aback she couldn’t even speak for a moment. Not that it mattered—Lucas was absorbed in his all-important conversation with the police and was not the least bit concerned with her feelings, which were, at that moment, edging toward a total meltdown. She despised that about herself—over the last couple of weeks she couldn’t seem to get away from the feeling. It reminded her of her mother, who could fly into a fury without the slightest bit of provocation. Audrey had always thought her mother was highly fragile and that she—singer, artist, balanced soul—was the even-tempered, thoughtful one.
But at the moment, she could feel the heat of shame, embarrassment, something, creep into her neck, spread up to her face, and it was all she could do to shift her gaze to Jack.
His eyes said it all, blue eyes filled with loathing and pity and . . . and that was it, about all she could take for one morning. “When do we leave?”
“An hour, maybe a little longer.”
“Great,” she said, and moved for the door.
“Hey!” Lucas shouted after her. “Audrey! Where in the hell are you going?”
She answered by throwing open the door and striding through, her arms swinging, her gait determined. She had to get out of there, to go someplace where she could be alone and melt down in private.
Audrey reached the elevators and punched the down button. Several times. Over and over again in rapid succession until she was convinced the door was not going to open for her, at which point she turned and ran to the stairwell. She had made it down one flight when she heard the stairwell door open and close above her, and assumed it was Lucas coming after her to smooth things over.
Only she didn’t want to smooth things over. She just wanted to be alone, and she didn’t think that was asking too terribly much. Just someplace Lucas wasn’t hovering and no one was demanding anything from her.
She made it as far as the sidewalk before he caught up with her, grabbing her arm and wrapping thick fingers around it to stop her. But it wasn’t Lucas as she expected—it was Jack.
“Wow. You’re fast. I’m impressed.”
“Why are you following me?” she snapped, jerking her arm free of his grasp.
For some reason, that made Jack laugh, but upon seeing her murderous look, he instantly put up an apologetic hand. “It’s a strange question, you have to admit. There is some freak out there who wants to hurt you, so it seems fairly obvious to me why I am following you. And besides, you almost killed your poor little rat.”
Audrey gasped—he was carrying Bruno in the crook of one arm, like a football. She’d forgotten about him. She took Bruno from Jack and glanced across the street, where a mall with an actual green and trees and beautiful plants and a trail and a little river stretched for several blocks. It looked so pretty, so peaceful—and she’d almost made it, had almost escaped to privacy. “Can’t I just go for a walk?” she asked, her voice depressingly small.
“Sure. But I’m going with you.”
Audrey shot him a dark look. “I meant alone.”
He shrugged. “Sorry, kid. You know the only way I can let you walk over there is to go with you. Especially after getting the chocolate and another letter.”
She knew it, but knowing it didn’t aggravate her any less. “Fine,” she said irritably. “Then come on.” And with that, she began striding down the street, to the crosswalk. Jack was instantly at her side, walking along like he was on some Sunday stroll while Audrey marched faster and faster to outdistance him.
She couldn’t do it.
When they reached a light, she shot a look at him. He was as fresh as a daisy, even though it had to be ninety degrees and very humid. Audrey stifled a scream and pounded on the pedestrian button several times. When she finished, Jack arched a brow.
So did Audrey.
He calmly reached around her and pressed the button on the front of the light post.
It dawned on her that she’d been pounding the pedestrian walk button for the wrong directio
n. She ignored his smile of amusement, and as soon as the light turned—which took a while, given her impatient button-pushing—she practically sprinted across the street.
Jack easily kept pace with her, and even put a firm hand on her elbow to slow her when they reached the green.
“Okay, all right, I won’t run away,” she said, pulling her arm free and stooping to let Bruno run. “But could I just have a little privacy?”
He gestured for her to walk ahead of him.
She walked on, her skin melting where his hand had touched her, her mind racing around thoughts of his hand on other parts of her body. It was ridiculous—after what she’d been through this morning, she was thinking of sex? Yet it wasn’t just sex. It was something more than that, something like what she had felt on the beach that night. Comfort.
After a few minutes, she grew weary of trying to clear her thoughts of Jack and stopped dead in her tracks. Jack was apparently following fairly close behind because he collided with her back, catching her shoulders in his hand and twirling them both around to face the water. With his hands on her shoulders, his body against hers, he said into her ear, “You might warn a person next time,” and let go.
Audrey didn’t move. She took great gulps of air to calm her nerves and her racing heart as Bruno bounced around her feet, wanting to keep going.
She closed her eyes, willed herself to stop thinking of Jack. She wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him. She had a boyfriend. Sort of. Even if Lucas was a colossal jerk sometimes, she was still with him. And besides, even if there had been no Lucas—and there was definitely a Lucas—Jack was an employee. No one got involved with their employees unless they were in a sitcom. Wait . . . what was she thinking? Involved with Jack? She’d made the mental leap from attracted to involved?
Good God, she had much bigger things on her plate right now, like the tour, and her missing brother, and the I’m going to kill you note, of course, not to mention the awful review that she could not seem to get off her mind. There was no time for a lot of ridiculous Jack thinking. He was just a sexy guy, that was all, a sexy guy who somehow seemed to understand her better than anyone else on this tour, and it didn’t help that he went down on his haunches on the water’s edge and looked about as sexy as any man she had ever seen.
But then he ruined everything by asking, in that sultry, husky voice tinged with a slight drawl, “Why do you let him talk to you like that?”
“Oh, great,” she said irritably. “Just great. Now you’re going to critique my relationship. Let’s see, what else can I add to this day? What about bird flu? I haven’t had bird flu. Maybe I should just heap that right on top.”
He laughed and put his hand on Bruno’s head when the dog nuzzled him. “I’m not critiquing anything. I just wonder how this ever got twisted around to where the dude thinks he is the star instead of you.”
“He doesn’t think he is the star,” she said curtly. “He knows I am, but he . . .” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to think of the words that would explain Lucas. “I don’t even know why I am having this conversation,” she said irritably. “You wouldn’t understand it anyway.”
Instead of being insulted, Jack smiled. “Try me.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself. But I’m here if you ever want to talk.” He stood up, folded his arms over his chest, and smiled so warmly that Audrey felt that melting thing again. “So are you going to walk? There is a lagoon just down the way. Your furry little rat friend can run around a little and you can count the ducks.”
“Ducks?” As if ducks would somehow make her feel better. It was insane—she suddenly had the strong urge to explain everything to Jack. “You don’t know where I came from, Jack,” she blurted, drawing his attention back to her. “Just two years ago I was packing Lucas’s boxers for a gig in Luckenbach, of all places, and now I am playing to sold-out audiences. Do you realize there were twelve thousand people in that arena last night? Twelve thousand! I owe that all to Lucas—if it wasn’t for him, I would not be here today. So just cut him a little slack, will you?”
“I am sure he’s been a big help,” Jack admitted. “But if you think for one minute that you were playing to twelve thousand people last night for any other reason than your talent, he’s really done a number on you.”
Audrey snorted. “And now you’re an expert on how a pop star hits it big. Well, news flash—I wasn’t voted to be a pop star on American Idol. It took a lot of work and a lot of people for me to get where I am today.”
“I’m no expert, but I’m not deaf, and I know talent when I hear it. This tour is about your talent. You’re on tour because of your talent and not because Bonner had a great idea once. Believe me, if you had stuck with the music you used to play, you would still be playing to an audience this size. It might have taken you a little longer to get here, but you would have made it.”
“The music I used to play?” she said, turning to face him fully. “And how would you know about that?”
Something changed in his expression that gave Audrey a shiver. “I know,” he said, his gaze sliding over her body like silk. “You aren’t the only one from Texas here. It so happens I caught a couple of your shows in Austin a few years ago.”
“You’re kidding,” Audrey said flatly.
He lifted his gaze. “Swear to God I did.”
“Really?” she demanded, trying to read him.
He leaned forward, so that they were almost nose to nose. “Really.”
He’d heard her? He’d heard the music she loved? There was an obvious question, one she absolutely did not want to ask because she did not care what his opinion was, but somehow, her mouth got ahead of her brain and she said, “So . . . what did you think?”
“What did I think?” His gaze dipped to her lips. “I loved it. I loved you.”
She smiled with unabashed pleasure. “You did?”
“I thought you were the best sound in Austin.”
The best sound in Austin. There was a time when that was all she aspired to. He’d known about her in Austin, and then. . . . “Wait, wait,” she said, shaking her head. “Wait just a minute. If you had heard me in Austin, then what was that whole never heard of you thing in Costa Rica?”
With a chuckle, Jack carelessly brushed a curl of her hair from her cheek. “Well, now, sweetheart, if you hadn’t come off like such a diva that night, I wouldn’t have felt so compelled to turn that ego of yours down a notch.”
“Diva!” Audrey insisted angrily. “I don’t have an ego!”
“Oh no? You seem to have a pretty healthy one to me.”
“How would you know?”
He cocked a dubious brow. “Well, for starters, you bite a lot of heads off around you. You’re not very polite, as we have discussed.”
Was that true? Did they all think she was a diva? But she wasn’t, not even close! She was really very nice—Wait. What was she doing? “Oh my God,” Audrey said, and with one arm, shoved him aside as she began marching down the path again. “I am not going to try and explain myself to you!” she shouted over her shoulder.
“Fine. But don’t go far—we didn’t budget for me to follow you around like your dog when you’re having a tantrum.”
“I’m not having a tantrum! I just want some time alone without you telling me what a diva I am, or without anyone threatening me or . . . or whatever!” she exclaimed, her hands wildly punctuating the air around her. “Is that asking too much? Is a little alone time asking too much?”
“Of course not,” he said congenially. “This is your show. If you want some time alone, you need only ask for it. You don’t have to stomp off like a PMS-ing fourteen-year-old when you don’t instantly get your way. Just let me know when you want me to arrange it.”
She seethed at his insolence. “All right. I am letting you know that I want you to arrange it, Rambo. I want you to arrange it right now.”
He grinned in that sexy, lopsided way he had of smiling and Audrey suddenly ne
eded to be away from him and those blue eyes. She turned and ran.
She knew how stupid and immature she must look, and okay, probably a little diva-ish. But at least she felt in control of whatever it was that was happening inside her.
When she had put sufficient distance between them and was nearing the walk down to the lagoon, she whipped her head around to see where Rambo was—right behind her, of course—and missed the jogger who was running up the incline from the lagoon altogether. Their shoulders collided, and it startled Audrey so badly that she shrieked.
“Sorry,” the man said breathlessly as he ran by.
In that split moment of the collision, Audrey feared the worst—she feared the freak had found her and her heart stopped. She gasped, clamped a hand over her heart as the man ran by; at almost the same moment, Jack grabbed her, clamping an arm securely around her shoulders. “See? Yet another reason not to stomp off in anger—you don’t watch where you are going,” he said soothingly.
He was making light of it, but he knew what she’d thought—she could hear it in his deep voice, which wafted over her like a protective blanket, and Audrey lost it. Her frayed nerves and the tangled emotions Jack evoked in her—the small truths he uttered seemed to unravel her perceptions of reality. She had no idea how he did it, but she somehow turned into him and blindly managed to put her hands on his face.
She kissed him.
But Jack suddenly grabbed her arms and held her away from him. “Don’t,” he said, his blue eyes full of warning. “Don’t do that. Because if you do it again, I am going to give it right back and a whole lot more. Do you understand me?”
She didn’t speak, just panted as she gazed at his lips.
His eyes narrowed. “I mean it, Audrey. Don’t start something you can’t or won’t finish.”
She still didn’t know how it happened—whether she grabbed him or he grabbed her—but she was kissing him, again, and it was no small kiss. She was devouring him, trying to eat him up, swallow him whole. It was a monumental moment, a jarring wake-up call to all her senses, and suddenly her entire body felt more alive than she’d felt in weeks, months, maybe even years. Desire raged through her like a wildfire, spreading quickly and with deadly consequences. Every protest, every reason her mind conjured up to stop her, Audrey tossed aside like so many bits of bread for the ducks.
