“Good.” He started down a carpeted hallway lined with framed album covers. “The reception’s at seven. We’ll have a late dinner afterward and talk about your gigs.”
She hurried to catch up with his long strides. She wanted to stop and examine the record jackets, visualize herself on the cover of a CD, but there seemed to be little time for contemplation in New York. Belatedly she realized he’d just included dinner with the evening plans. She would be Judd Roarke’s date tonight, apparently. But she mustn’t read too much into it. Correction. She mustn’t read anything into it.
* * *
OUTWARDLY JUDD ROARKE behaved as he always did with new talent. He took Kerry into the control booth of Studio B and introduced her to Tom Ethridge, one of the best producers in the business, and Billy Wong, a senior engineer for Lighthouse. On a daily basis Billy turned mediocre into magic with his deft manipulation of the candy-colored buttons arranged in rows on the massive console. Judd looked forward to Billy’s delight in Kerry’s tone.
Then he took her out on the floor to meet the studio musicians, three guys who could make even an amateur sound good. With Kerry they should light up the studio.
She established a rapport with them immediately, which didn’t surprise him. Soon he could tell he was extraneous, and he returned to the control booth. Sometimes he stayed to watch a first recording session, so he wasn’t giving away much by hanging around.
But he had to be careful about touching her, or looking too long into those green eyes. He’d definitely assign someone else to take her around to the gigs. And he’d leave her alone after tonight, but the reception reminder had caught him by surprise, and he’d asked her before he’d had a chance to think. Then he’d compounded his lack of judgment by including dinner. Maybe they’d hook up with somebody else and he wouldn’t end up alone with her. That would be best. He’d do that.
Tom punched the green Intercom button. “Signal when you’re ready,” he told Kerry. Then he turned the button off and swiveled his chair to face Judd. “Pretty girl. Where’d you say she was from?”
“Eternity, Massachusetts.” Judd watched through the glass as Kerry put on headphones and adjusted the softball-size mike suspended from a boom.
“Isn’t that the wedding place?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed as she took off her suit jacket and tossed it over a stool. Her breasts lifted gently under her mint green blouse as she readjusted the headphones. The soft track lighting in the studio caressed her face as she glanced over the sheet music she’d arranged on the padded stand in front of her. He turned away before his interest became obvious to everyone in the booth.
“That could be a great angle, Judd,” said Billy. “The girl from Eternity. You’ve probably thought of that.”
Judd leaned his shoulder against a wall sound-proofed with waffled foam padding. “She’s a winner—looks, voice, stage presence, musical background.”
Tom glanced at Kerry, who was sorting through the pages of her sheet music. “What’s her specialty?”
“I don’t see her falling into a niche so much as claiming the sort of broad pop-music audience Whitney Houston has.”
Tom whistled. “Aiming for the big time, are we?”
“I think she can do it.”
“Eternity’s a small town,” Billy said. “Does she have any concept how rough it is out there?”
Judd sighed. “Do any of them ever have a clue, Billy?”
“No, I guess not. They either toughen up as they go or they get out.”
“Looks like she’s ready,” Tom said. He held up a hand to signal Kerry to begin. “Let’s see what she’s got,” he said, and closed his hand into a fist.
Judd listened with his head down and forced himself to be analytical. She’d chosen an old Billy Joel tune, the rollicking “This Is My Life.” Appropriate, he thought, this song of independence. His heart swelled at the strength in her voice. She was good. He glanced at Tom. For years he’d used Tom’s reaction as a barometer for new talent. When Tom liked something, he wiggled his foot to the beat and quietly snapped his fingers. As Kerry sang, Tom’s fingers and toes picked up her rhythm, and Judd smiled.
She finished the song and Tom switched on the intercom. “That sounded real good. Want to try it again, or do something else?”
“Something else.” Her voice had a sweet ring to it that reminded Judd of tapping a piece of Waterford crystal gently with a fork.
“When you’re ready, then,” Tom said, and flipped off the intercom. When he turned toward Judd his nonchalance slipped a little. “Damn, Roarke, if I don’t think you’ve found us a chart burner. Trust you to go on your one vacation of the year and come up with someone like this. Any more like her down in Eternity?”
Judd wasn’t sure there were any more like Kerry in the world, let alone in Eternity. “Nope. We’ll have to make do with her.”
“It’s days like this that make me glad I have stock in this crazy company. Have you run her past Erica?”
“I will when we get a good demo.”
“Should be a piece of cake,” Billy said.
Judd nodded. He was proud of the team he’d assembled. Nobody at Lighthouse believed in rubber-stamping a project. Erica Endicott, head of the artist-and-repertoire department, insisted on a demo created in the studio before she’d consider new talent. She swore by that method, saying it weeded out prima donnas who didn’t have the patience for the meticulous studio work that had built the Lighthouse reputation.
Erica was nicely balanced by marketing director Henry Gridley, who demanded that new talent have a good live act. Technically Judd could override them both, but he never had. And he sure as hell wouldn’t now with Kerry, not when he questioned his objectivity.
Tom held up his hand again as Kerry signaled to him. It occurred to Judd that he should leave and have Tom send Kerry down to his office when they had a tape they all liked. But he didn’t want to leave. Tom made a fist and Kerry leaned close to the mike, eyes closed. Judd knew before she began that this would be a love song.
He might have guessed she’d choose one of his favorites, “I Will Always Love You.” There’d been the Dolly Parton version and the Whitney Houston version. Now he had the Kerry Muldoon version, and it was a show stopper. He should walk out of this booth and start building his defenses. Because she was tearing them down with every note of this damn song. He’d asked her to sing for him. Now it seemed she was doing exactly that, singing for him and no one else in the world.
Of course it was all illusion. A good performer made each musical experience seem personal. He knew that too well to get taken in, swept away. Except this time his cynicism wasn’t holding as Kerry’s sweet words of love wrenched an answering emotion from deep in his gut.
She ended the song and opened her eyes. For one searing moment she looked up at him and he caught his breath. Then the drummer said something to her, and she glanced over her shoulder and laughed.
Snapped out of his fantasy, Judd turned from the window. The movement was abrupt enough for Tom to glance up, eyebrows raised.
“Work with her on those two and send her to my office when you’re satisfied.”
“Will do.” Tom had a question in his eyes, but he didn’t voice it, for which Judd was grateful.
Throughout the song Judd had been unaware of anything but Kerry and her seductive voice. For all he knew, Tom had been watching him, and if so, Tom knew more about Judd’s emotions than he wanted to share.
“But for what it’s worth, I think she’s great,” Tom ventured, looking straight at Judd.
“We’ll see.” He left the booth without looking back at Kerry.
6
KERRY SAW Judd’s abrupt departure from the booth and panicked. He hadn’t liked it. He regretted what was obviously a terrible mistake. In the cozy atmosphere of Eternity with a friendly audience she’d looked pretty good to him, but in the unforgiving confines of a recording booth all her flaws had stood out like beer cans on a beach. S
he clenched her hands and waited for the man named Tom to tell her she could go home now, and they’d be in touch. But of course they wouldn’t be.
She pictured going back on the train and facing everyone in Eternity, especially Aunt June. Failure had never occurred to her until this moment. Now it seemed inevitable. Who did she think she was, anyway? New York was filled with great singers. Judd didn’t need to scour the hinterlands for another artist for his label. She’d been damned lucky to get this far.
The intercom snapped on and she tensed.
“Kerry?” Tom said. “The boss wants us to polish those two tunes. Let’s start with the Billy Joel number. I liked the intro, but let’s punch in a new version of the second line. See if you can hit the pitch a tad cleaner.”
“I…we’re going to do it again?”
Ted laughed. “And again and again. You were great, almost perfect, but at Lighthouse almost isn’t good enough. We’re all anal retentives after perfection. And, Joe, pick up the tempo a little.”
“Got it,” the drummer said.
Kerry could only imagine they were being kind. She’d seen the way Judd had walked out of there, as if he could hardly wait to get away. She’d thought for a second, after the song was over and he’d looked at her, that she’d had a strong effect on him. He’d looked…transfixed. Maybe what she’d interpreted as fascination had been horror, instead.
“And the keyboard might be a little heavy in the opening chords, Woody,” Tom continued. “Tone it down a little. Not much, just a little.”
“Sure.”
Kerry tried to concentrate, tried to follow directions, but she couldn’t put the picture of Judd striding from the booth out of her mind. She loused up her phrasing on the next line of the song. Then she came in a beat too soon. Tom coached her patiently, and the third try at the line was free of any noticeable mistakes.
Kerry had recorded demos before. She knew it was tedious work as a song was pieced together phrase by phrase. Given Judd’s reaction, she couldn’t understand why everyone was bothering to spend the time, but she slogged along because she didn’t have the courage to question Tom about the futility of the project.
Finally they must have decided to stop torturing her.
“That’s good enough for now,” Tom said over the intercom. “Judd wanted to see you in his office when we were done.”
Here it comes, Kerry thought, putting on her jacket and gathering up her music. She shook hands with the musicians and the men in the control booth before taking the long walk back down the hall to the lobby. A lead weight formed in her stomach as she thought of the high hopes she’d had a couple of hours ago. She had no interest in the framed album covers on the wall now. She wouldn’t be joining the gallery, so what difference did it make who else was up there?
In the lobby she got directions to Judd’s office and took another short hallway, which ended in a set of double doors. They were hand carved and featured a bas-relief of a lighthouse on each door. Lighthouses were fast becoming her least favorite symbol. She wondered if she’d be able to look at the one in Eternity without bursting into tears.
She rapped on the heavy doors and heard Judd’s brisk “Come in” as a death knell to all her dreams, not to mention the dreams of an entire town that believed she would be a star. She opened the door.
When she’d first arrived at the Lighthouse offices he’d come out to the lobby to meet her. Now he’d barricaded himself behind his massive desk. Her gaze flicked over framed industry awards, autographed pictures of well-known performers, and a shelf full of Grammys. The tall windows facing Fifth Avenue looked out on the glitter and whipping flags of Rockefeller Center. The room was all about success. Kerry didn’t belong here.
Judd had taken off his suit coat and loosened his tie. His hair looked rumpled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it a lot in the past two hours. He’d probably been debating how to tell her to hit the road.
As she’d expected, his expression was distant as he tossed down his pen and leaned back in his swivel chair. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward one of the dark blue leather chairs positioned in front of the desk.
“That’s okay.” She didn’t want to be any closer to him than necessary so she could beat a hasty retreat when he delivered the bad news. In fact, she’d help him deliver it. “Look, it was great of you to bring me down here and give me a chance, but I realize now that the odds are much higher than I imagined.”
He leaned forward, his impassive mask gone. “Is that right?”
“Eternity, Massachusetts, may think I’m a big deal, but that doesn’t make it so, does it?”
He stared at her, a frown creasing his forehead.
“And don’t think you still have to take me to the reception tonight, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay at the hotel, instead of going home this afternoon. I’m sure you’ll be charged for the room, anyway, and it’d be easier for me to catch a train in the morning, when—”
He stood and braced both fists on the desk. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”
“Going home.”
“You’ve been in New York three hours and you’re ready to go home?”
Now it was her turn to stare. Why hadn’t he picked up his cue? She’d handed him the perfect chance to let her down easy.
He rounded the desk and came toward her, his expression thunderous. “I can’t believe you don’t have more spunk than that. Not after the scene I witnessed on the beach. I can’t believe that just because Tom asked you to polish those numbers you’ve decided you can’t take the pressure.”
“I—”
“But if that’s the way you feel, you’re better off going home. Because the pressure gets a whole lot worse before you hit the top, babe.”
“But…” She choked in confusion and had to try again. “But you don’t think I’ll make it to the top!”
“What gave you that imbecilic idea?”
“You walked out of the recording session! No, I take that back. You stalked out of the recording session.”
Slowly his features softened. He reached out as if to touch her, then dropped his hand back to his side. “You misunderstood,” he said softly.
“You didn’t hate it?”
“No.”
“But I thought….”
“I can see what you thought.” His eyes were golden again, as they had been on that day he’d sat on her front stoop. “I’m sorry. I had…some business waiting and I had to leave. I should have said something to you before I left.”
She took a deep breath. She wasn’t going home. But she felt like a fool. Of course this busy executive couldn’t hang around a recording studio all afternoon offering praise. She flushed. “I’m the one who should apologize. You have dozens of artists, a huge business to run and more responsibility than I can probably imagine. It’s perfectly logical that you left the control booth without explaining yourself. You shouldn’t ever need to.”
“That’s not true. We don’t operate like that at Lighthouse. We treat each other with respect. Nobody’s allowed to be pompous, especially me.”
“Nevertheless, I have to learn to be less sensitive.”
He sighed and glanced away. “I suppose you do.” His telephone buzzed and he turned toward his desk. “Excuse me.” He reached across the desk to pick up the receiver and propped one hip on the polished edge of the desk while he talked. Kerry thought he looked almost as sexy as he did in his jogging shorts. “Yes…okay. I’ll be with them in a minute. Thanks, Lois.” He hung up the phone and turned back to her.
“You see?” She smiled and gestured toward the phone. “A busy man.”
“Oh, yeah.” He grinned back at her. “Without me the world wouldn’t turn.”
When he smiled like that he certainly made her world turn, Kerry thought. Okay, so she had a crush on the boss. She’d read somewhere that fantasies only become a problem when you act on them. No one had to know what was in her heart when she looked at
Judd Roarke. “Is there anything else you needed from me or should I head back to my hotel?”
His eyes darkened momentarily. “I guess there’s nothing. If you’ll wait a minute, Lois can call Zorba.”
“The chauffeur?”
“Yeah.”
Kerry laughed. She was beginning to like New York again. “That’s his name, really?”
“No, but he gets a kick out of calling himself that. He’s Greek and an old Anthony Quinn fan. Anyway, he can take you back, but Lois will have to call him, see if he’s free. You can ask her on the way out.”
“Never mind.” Now that she knew he wasn’t giving her the boot, Kerry felt as if she could do anything. “I’ll catch a cab. I might as well get used to doing that.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I think I do. I want to prove I can be a New Yorker.”
“If you say so. I’ll pick you up at the Salisbury about six forty-five, assuming you still want to go.”
“Of course.” She almost skipped as she left his office. He hadn’t hated her recording session. She was still here.
And tonight she’d be with Judd all evening.
* * *
JUDD TRIED to focus on his call, which was the much-awaited one from Janet Jackson’s manager. Handled right, the manager might convince Janet to give Lighthouse a try. Judd knew he wasn’t handling it right, and finally he asked the manager if they could discuss the matter later.
The manager sounded startled but agreed. Judd hung up and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. He’d hurt Kerry. Already. He’d been so wrapped up in his own reactions he hadn’t thought how his behavior would look to her.
A rap sounded on the door. Judd opened his eyes just as Tom stuck his head in.
“You busy, Judd?”
“No, come on in. How’d the session go after I left?” He figured he knew the answer.
“Not great.” Tom walked over and balanced on the edge of a blue leather chair, his hands dangling between his knees. “There was magic in those tunes the first time she sang them, but after you left she lost the spark. Don’t get me wrong. She worked hard. She’s not one of those spoiled bitches Erica worries about. But she struggled. She’s new, though. She’ll probably smooth out.”
Wedding Song Page 6
