• • •
Jay rolled the beer bottle between his palms and glanced around. “Any idea where the rubbish bin is?”
“Yeah,” Adam sighed. “On the other side of the refrigerator. Look, mate, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Jay tossed the bottle on top of a plethora of others and winced at the sound of breaking glass. “Oh, shit.”
“For that crack about the castles,” Adam said, ignoring the rubbish. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Jay shrugged and pulled a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket. “It’s all right. I know you don’t care for them.”
“No, but you do.” Adam looked contrite as he watched Jay dig a lighter from the front pocket of his jeans. “I was out of line.”
Jay paused and looked across the tiny, wavering flame at his friend. “Well, thanks then.” He lit his cig and stowed the lighter in his pocket where it radiated heat like a small, glowing coal before the warmth faded. “Appreciate it.”
With a hop, Adam settled himself on the kitchen counter. “I brought Nicky with me.” He looked expectant. “Have you seen him?”
“Mm-hm.” Jay exhaled a puff of smoke. “I don’t suppose you’ve said anything to Maureen about us wanting him to join the new group, have you?”
Looking uncomfortable, Adam shrugged. “I might have mentioned it in passing. Why?”
Jay laughed. “She’s not very subtle. She all but pushed him on me and I think if she had scarves handy she’d have tied us together.”
“Oh, hell.” Adam looked disgusted. “No, subtlety isn’t one of her strong points.”
“I don’t mind. She’s a love.” Jay cast an eye toward the doorway. “Speaking of subtlety, I assume she had something to do with Katie’s dress?”
With a derisive snort, Adam slid off the counter. “She made it, yes. Katie designed it, though.”
“Really?” Jay peered into the living room trying to catch of glimpse of his hostess. “Same level of subtle as our Maureen, then?”
“It would appear so.”
Curious at Adam’s disgruntled tone, Jay cocked a brow at him. “You don’t like the dress?”
Adam took a deep breath and his expression went neutral. “What’s not to like? Come on, then.” He started for the door. “Like I said, the party’s out there.”
• • •
Walking into the living room was rather like walking into an industrial fog machine. Katie’s earlier buzz had almost vanished, but she was sure she could get a contact high just from breathing in the air of her flat. The volume on the stereo had been turned up and dancing bodies could be seen through the haze.
Katie performed a type of ballet herself as she moved around the room trying to enjoy her housewarming party. No matter how many people she talked to, no matter how many times she danced, her gaze kept seeking out Jay Carey as though he was the only thing her eyes were permitted to gaze upon.
He’d taken up a position on the sofa, his long lean body sprawled on the chocolate velvet cushions. Katie wasn’t surprised to see him reject multiple offers to dance; Adam had told her Jay had no rhythm except in his music, and couldn’t dance for shit. Katie didn’t believe it for a second. She’d bet everything she owned that Jay could move with heart-stopping grace if he wanted. As the familiar “Ahhh” of “Crimson and Clover” sighed from the stereo speakers, Katie screwed up her courage and walked toward him with determination.
He looked up in surprise as she halted in front of him, her hands held out in invitation. After the barest pause, she was gratified to feel his warm hands close over hers and she pulled him to his feet.
Time seemed to stop the moment their bodies came into contact. The music and the feel of him against her were the only things that were real. Jay’s hair brushed her cheek and she turned her face into it, intoxicated once again by the way he smelled. The feel of his thighs against hers as they swayed together left her weak. The heat of his hands seemed to brand her where they rested between her shoulders and the small of her back. Regret that she’d worn a bra flashed through her; she would have given anything to feel her unencumbered breasts against his chest. Her bare breasts against his naked chest would be even better. That particular little thought made her wild to touch his skin, and she let her hand slide under his hair to cup the back of his neck.
Jay’s chest expanded against hers as he drew in a deep breath at her touch and his arms tightened around her. His skin was warm against her palm and she had to use all her willpower to keep from sliding her hand under the collar of his shirt.
All too soon the song ended and they paused in their swaying dance, uncertain. When the next record dropped onto the turntable, Katie thanked God it was another slow tune. “Time of the Season” gave her the perfect excuse to keep holding him, keep moving against him, and feeling his touch against her back.
Jay cleared his throat. “How long have you been in England, then?”
“Um … ” It took a moment for her to remember just where she was. “Since August.” She drew back a little to look at him and her heart stuttered when she found those intense eyes gazing into hers.
“Stuart tells me you’re from Alabama.” He turned her in a slow circle, smiling down at her. “We played Mobile earlier this month.”
“I never did catch Wonderkind in concert,” she admitted. “I’m really looking forward to seeing the new band. Do you have a name for it, yet?”
“I think we’ve all agreed on Shadowed Knight. It’s a combination of the two names we liked best.”
“I like that. It’s kind of mysterious.”
“It’s a mystery, all right.” He laughed and squeezed her waist. “We’re going to have to make up something whenever anyone asks us what it means.”
Should she kiss him? God, she’d never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as she wanted to kiss this man. But she couldn’t be sure how he’d react. Yes, he was holding her so tight, his hands sliding from her waist up her back, but his eyes held no clue as to how he felt. She couldn’t discern any kind of desire in the way he was looking at her, more like puzzlement. It was like he was trying to figure out who she was, and it confused her.
The Turtles stopped testifying about their pleasured hands, and the psychedelic strains of “Magic Carpet Ride” began. Katie was disappointed to feel Jay pull away from her, and was glad she hadn’t tipped her hand by kissing him.
“You surprise me, Katie Scott,” he murmured.
“Really?” She arched an eyebrow. “How?”
“The fact that you got me to dance with you. I very rarely dance with anyone, and never in public.”
Katie’s heart gave a cautious little bump of anticipation. “Well, I’m glad you took a chance.”
Jay smoothed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I guess I just can’t resist you.”
“Does that mean I have you at my mercy?” She had no idea how she got the words out; she could barely draw in enough air to breathe, much less make conversation.
“You might,” he responded. “But unfortunately, I’ve got to leave.”
“Oh. Well, then.” She cleared her throat. “I’m really glad you came by tonight.”
“So am I.” He bent down as if to kiss her cheek, but whispered in her ear instead.
Katie watched him wend his way to the door and disappear through it. Everything else receded, and she was unaware of the music, the smoky air, or the jostling of bodies. All she knew was the echo of Jay Carey’s whisper in her ear: “I want you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jay took a healthy hit off the joint and passed it to a snickering Adam. After a moment, he blew a thin stream of smoke between his lips.
“Anyway,” he said. “We all knew what was going to happen, but it was still funnier than hell when the man put his arm around Marty’s waist and whispered, ‘How you doin’, sweet thang?’”
Adam choked on a combination of smoke and laughter which Jay found much more amusing than his story about Marty Harris
on. Ribs aching, he handed Adam what was left of his Jack and Coke.
“Here, drink this.”
Adam shook his head and waved his hand. “ … kill me … ” he gasped out.
Still laughing, Jay drained the glass and slammed it upside down on the coffee table. “Nancy boy.”
Red in the face, Adam wiped his streaming eyes and checked the many lager bottles that littered the area around his chair. A sloshing noise came from one and he raised it to his lips, throwing his head back to get every last drop. With an explosive gasp he lowered the bottle and rested his elbows on his knees, breathing hard. “Not a nancy boy,” he croaked. “But your Texas accent left a lot to be desired. Combined with that shirt … ” He started snickering again and pointed at Jay. “You look like the Gay Caballero.”
Jay suppressed what could only be termed a giggle and decided he’d had enough weed and booze. He spread his arms wide and looked down at his new overly-decorated fringed shirt. “Hey, this shirt is from Nudie’s. Everyone wears them.”
“Especially gay caballeros.” Adam looked around with a perplexed frown. “Where’s the joint?”
“Please don’t burn my house down.” Jay put his feet on the table and crossed his ankles. “Do you want to hear the rest of the story?”
“What story?” Adam stood up and searched the chair.
Another bout of laughter shook Jay’s shoulders. “The story about the man in Dallas who saw Marty from behind and thought he was a bird.” He narrowed his eyes at Adam’s foot. “The joint’s on top of your shoe, mate.”
“Fuck!” Adam snatched it up and beat on his shoe to extinguish any errant embers. Ignoring Jay’s hoots of laughter, he examined his foot with a sorrowful frown. “Ruined. Looks like I’ll have to throw them out with Katie’s boots.”
“What’s wrong with Katie’s boots? They looked fine to me.” He closed his eyes and sank lower in his chair. “Haven’t seen George lately, have you?”
“Nope. Why? You didn’t want me to say anything to him before you got back, did you?”
“Hm-mm.” An errant curl fell across Jay’s face as he shook his head and he flicked it back with a forefinger. “Just hoping he’s not found a new band.”
“Not that I’ve heard.” With a groan, Adam got to his feet and stretched. “I think his band is playing at Middle Earth tonight, though. We could fetch Stuart and go hear them, maybe talk to George about joining us.”
“Sounds good.” Jay swung his feet off the table and stood. “We’ll have to take the tube, though. I’d probably wrap the car round a tree or something in this state.”
“You are going to change your shirt, I hope.”
“I am not.” Jay checked the pockets of his jeans to make sure he had enough money on him. “Stuart’s from America and will be able to properly appreciate it. Of course,” he sniggered. “He’s also from Dallas, so I’d better watch myself. Don’t want him getting romantically attached.”
“What’d the bloke do when he found out Marty wasn’t a girl?” Adam asked.
Sobering a little, Jay shook his head. “You don’t want to know.” Anxious to change the subject, he cocked a brow. “D’you want to stop by for Katie while we’re fetching Stuart?”
“What? Oh.” Adam looked uncomfortable. “No, she’s out with Maureen tonight. The Marquee, I think.”
“Let’s head there first, then.” Jay grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch. “Maureen’s always fun and I’d like to see Katie again. I had a good time at her place last night.”
“Sure, get me into trouble.” At Jay’s questioning look, he shrugged. “She wanted a girl’s night and if I show up, it’ll look like I don’t trust her.”
Jay paused in the act of opening the front door. “Oh. Like that, is it?”
“Well, y’know … ” Adam rubbed the end of his nose, his cheeks flushed.
“All right, then.” Jay shrugged. “We’ll get Stuart and head to Middle Earth.” His forehead creased in a confused frown as he locked the door. Had he made a colossal mistake telling Katie Scott he wanted her? He could have sworn she was into him, but perhaps he’d misread the signals. With a sigh, he pocketed his keys and followed Adam down the drive.
There was another explanation, one he was reluctant to admit. He’d been so mesmerized by Katie that he could have missed a roomful of signals. When she’d asked him to dance he’d been powerless to refuse; the desire to hold her in his arms had been too strong.
Remembering the feel of her body against his and the elusive scent of jasmine that rose from her hair made a surreptitious adjustment of the front of his jeans necessary. Another sobering thought struck him, one that removed the need for further adjustments: She must think him a total fool. That, or a total wank. After all, he’d come on to Adam’s girl.
Guilt twisted in his belly and he grimaced. He’d known Adam for years and considered him his closest friend. No way would he ever try to move in on a girl if Adam was involved with her, no matter how attractive he found her. And, damn, he was attracted to Katie Scott. He’d hated to leave her party so early but he had reached the end of his restraint when they’d stopped dancing. If he’d stayed another minute he would have probably … No, there was no probably about it. He’d have kissed those tempting lips in front of everyone, kissed her until they were both breathless. And then he’d have found her bedroom and divested her of that insanely short, lust-inducing dress before making love to her for hours. And hours.
With a deep breath, he pushed those thoughts from his mind. He cast a sidelong glance at Adam and hoped like hell Katie wouldn’t mention his indiscretion. If he’d known how things were, he’d have never told her he wanted her. Adam was his best mate and Katie was Adam’s old lady. Jay would never do anything to hurt his friend. Ever.
Realizing Adam had pulled ahead of him, he jogged a couple of steps to catch up. As they reached the tube station Jay resolved to forget about Katie and concentrate on his new band, the one he was starting with his friend.
• • •
Grunting with effort, Katie leaned her weight against the pliers and pushed until her face turned purple with effort. Muscles she didn’t know she had knotted in strain, and she thought her eyeballs were going to pop out of her head. Releasing the pressure with an explosive gasp, she sagged against the tile wall surrounding the bathtub, and glared at the bolt that held the shower head on the pipe. It might have moved a millimeter, but that was probably just wishful thinking on her part. If it wasn’t for her hair, she would have given up. But trying to shampoo the long, heavy mass in the bath or leaning over the kitchen sink was next to impossible, so the bolt was just going to have to cooperate.
After spending the previous day putting subway tile on the wall behind the bathtub, Katie had begun installing the shower just after breakfast. Things had gone at a brisk pace and she was feeling proud of herself until she noticed she’d put the showerhead on upside down. It was fortunate she’d discovered it before she tested the water pressure as she had no desire to repair a water-damaged ceiling. She narrowed her eyes at the bolt with its vise grip appendage. At least she knew the fittings were tight. Small consolation since she now had to undo one. Shaking her arms to loosen any stray knots in her muscles, she took a firm grasp on the pliers, and prepared to give it another try.
“Whatever are you doing?”
With a brief shriek of surprise at the unexpected voice, Katie lost her grip and fell forward, her skull making hard contact with the vertical pipe. “Son of a bitch,” she yelled, as flowers of pain bloomed at the point of impact. Clasping her hands across her now-throbbing forehead, she stumbled backward, trying to stand straight. The back of her head promptly banged into the handles of the pliers, which had, wonder of wonders, stayed locked onto the Bolt From Hell. Muttering curses under her breath, she ducked away from the plumbing and turned to confront her attacker. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Maureen stood in the doorway, regarding her with a mixture of amusem
ent and concern. “I didn’t sneak up on you,” Maureen defended herself. “I called out, but I guess you didn’t hear me over the music.” She nodded toward the living room, where the Beatles were cheerfully singing about tears cried for no one at maximum volume on the stereo.
Ignoring her friend’s explanation, Katie lowered one hand and inspected it for blood. “I swear that damn shower’s going to kill me yet.”
“What are you doing to it?” Maureen wanted to know. “It looks fine to me.”
“Look again. I somehow managed to get the showerhead on upside down.” Katie tossed another glare at the bolt.
“Oh, Katie, how thoughtful. You were obviously thinking it would spray up into my bathroom so I could have a shower, too.” Maureen hooted with laughter.
“Very funny.” With a sigh, Katie climbed out of the tub, and peered at her forehead in the mirror over the sink, pushing away strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “Damn. That’s going to leave a mark.”
Maureen’s face appeared next to hers in the mirror, inspecting Katie’s forehead for damage. “Oh, it won’t be too bad.” A grin lit her face. “It’s the blood gushing out of the back of your head I’m concerned about.”
One of Katie’s hands rose in reflex to the back of her head before she could stop it. She tried to repress the smile that quirked the corner of her mouth. It was impossible to maintain a bad mood around Maureen; her perpetual cheerfulness chased gloom and doom out as effectively as an industrial wind machine. Plucking a face cloth from the basket under the sink, Katie ran it under cold water before pressing it to her forehead. She turned to Maureen, and gave into the smile that had been trying to break free. “I guess I’ll live. Now that you’ve got my attention, is there something you wanted?”
“There is, now you mention it.” Taking the sponge from the back of the commode, she leaned over the tub and began wiping up the detritus left from Katie’s installation work. “I was sitting upstairs, listening to your Revolver album. Not your fault,” she added, looking up. “They just forgot to add insulation between the floors when they built this place. Anyway,” she resumed, turning back to the tub, “I was grooving to the music, when I remembered something and I had to come down at once.” Turning on the faucet, she rinsed the sponge under the running water, squeezed it out, and balanced it on the edge of the tub to dry.
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