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Encore

Page 7

by Rachel Lacey

* * *

  Cole dug his paddles into the Hudson River, and the kayak surged forward. In front of him, Jenn sat perched on a little cushion near the bow, wearing a blue knit dress and matching sandals. Her red hair shone in the sunlight reflected off the water, bringing out rich golden highlights that mesmerized him. Snippets of lyrics drifted through his head, and he dropped the oars long enough to slide his phone out of his back pocket and tap them in.

  Like fire in my arms, flames curling around her face and eating at my heart

  “Careful you don’t drop it,” she said, watching him from behind oversized sunglasses.

  He slid the phone back into his pocket. “Not a chance.”

  “Lyrics?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Do you do that too?”

  “No,” she answered, her expression thoughtful. “Kate does, though. She carries a little notebook around with her everywhere she goes. I usually designate time for songwriting, and I sit at my keyboard and work through the lyrics and melody at the same time.”

  “You play the piano?” he asked. Guitar was his muse, and he could tap out a decent beat on the drums. Never tried the piano, though, although its music had always interested him. He pictured Jenn seated at a baby grand, her fingers dancing over the keys as she played something she’d written. His dick grew heavy inside his jeans.

  She was nodding in answer to his question. “My parents signed me up for lessons when I was seven. I hated it at first, but it kind of grew on me over the years. At least I enjoy playing while I’m composing.”

  “I’d love to hear you play.”

  She cringed. “No, you wouldn’t. I’m barely passable at it.”

  “Still want to hear you play. Good call coming here today.” It felt good to be outside, gliding along the water with no one around to bother them.

  “I only moved to New York full-time about a year ago, so I’ve been working my way through a list of places to visit, and this has been one of my favorites so far. I love the city, but I have to get out sometimes too.”

  “I fuckin’ hear that.” He guided them along the river as the tree-laden shoreline of Storm King State Park slid by. He’d been out of sorts this past year, hiding from the headlines and possibly from his life too. The truth was, he’d lost some of the satisfaction from what he did lately. Whether he was in the studio writing songs or up onstage with women screaming and flashing their tits at him, none of it made him buzz the way it once had, like he was high on the best fucking drug in the world.

  “You’ve met my friends,” Jenn said, tilting her face toward the sun. “Tell me about yours. Who do you hang out with? Your phone’s been awfully quiet since news of our wedding broke. Why is that?”

  “Because I’ve been letting it ring straight through to voice mail,” he admitted. “I talked to both of my parents yesterday. No one else needs their nose in my business.”

  “Friends?” she asked again.

  “I have about a thousand people who’d tell you I’m their friend, but no one I feel like I need to share our news with. They’ve already read the papers.”

  “Interesting.” She reached down to trail her fingers through the water. Ripples spread in ever-widening rings across its surface, disturbing the reflection of the sky above so that the clouds seemed to stretch and twist in a sort of weird, rhythmic dance. “What did your parents say?”

  “My mom thinks it’s great and can’t wait to meet you. My dad didn’t really care one way or the other. What about yours?”

  “They’re horrified.” A smile flitted across her lips. “They’re super Catholic, so it’s all kinds of sacrilegious the way we got hitched. They want us to have a proper marriage in the church as soon as possible.”

  One of the oars lurched beneath his hand, almost knocking him out of the kayak. “And what did you tell them?”

  “I waffled on it. I can put them off for a few months, and by then, I can start dropping hints that things aren’t going so well between us.”

  The thought of standing up in front of a whole church full of people, of Jenn walking toward him down the aisle in a proper white dress… It made his skin feel hot and prickly, and the thought of her laying the foundation for their divorce didn’t make him feel any better. Maybe he should have given this marriage thing more thought before suggesting it. For him, it was all about public appearance. For Jenn, family and religion and all kinds of expectations came into play. It didn’t sit well in his gut.

  “They want us to come visit,” she said. “I won’t be able to get us out of that one, Cole. We’re going to have to visit, and soon.”

  “How soon?” he asked.

  “The sooner the better, really. What’s your schedule like? Once Kate gets back in town next week, things will get crazy for me.”

  “Let’s go this weekend, then,” he said with a decisive nod. “Next week starts getting busy for me too. In fact, Kate and I are performing together on Good Morning America next Friday.”

  “I know,” Jenn said with another small smile. “Okay, this weekend it is. I’ll make our travel arrangements.”

  “Like hell you will. You’re not my assistant, Jenn. You’re my wife. Jorja will handle the arrangements.”

  She shrugged. “Right. That’s fine.”

  They paddled up and down the Hudson until his arms were burning, then had an early dinner at a local brewery. They made it back to his town house just past nine. The day had been pretty damn great as far as he was concerned, but as soon as they walked back into his house, he felt the distance and tension descend between them.

  Jenn kept the kitchen island between them as he walked to the fridge for a beer. He handed one to her, which she accepted with a smile, her eyes still guarded. Last night this time, they’d been cuddled together on a blanket in Bryant Park, making out like crazy. How could he regain that level of comfort and intimacy between them? “Want to make some music?”

  She shook her head. “But I’d love to hear you play something.”

  “You got it.” He motioned for her to follow him downstairs to the studio. The house was dark and quiet around them except for the sound of their feet on the stairs.

  Jenn sucked in a breath as she followed him into the room. “Wow.”

  He’d converted the basement of his town house into a studio almost as soon as he’d moved in. The walls had been outfitted in soundproof paneling, covered in a deep brown fabric, with a black leather couch to the left and a couple of matching chairs on the right. The back wall was lined with guitars, and a microphone stood in the center of the room. “You like?”

  “I love it. You record here?” She stepped forward, trailing her fingers over the side of the couch.

  “I write here. I can make rough demos on this equipment, but I go into a professional studio when it’s time to record an album. This is more like my playground. I had it soundproofed so that the neighbors wouldn’t complain when I was down here on my guitar at all hours of the night.”

  “Smart thinking,” she said with a smile, walking toward the back of the room. “May I?” She gestured toward the guitars.

  “Sure thing, babe. You know how to play?”

  “No clue.” She lifted his Fender 22 and swung it into her arms, strumming her fingers lightly over the strings. When she lifted her head, she was smiling. “Maybe I should have you teach me a few things while I’m staying here.”

  And maybe music could bridge this gap between them. “I would fuckin’ love that.”

  * * *

  Jenn sat cross-legged on the floor, beer cradled between her hands, watching as Cole lifted the guitar over his head. Seeing him here in his home studio, holding the guitar and about to sing for her—and just for her—felt awfully damn intimate. He wore a snug black T-shirt and worn jeans, his biceps flexing nicely as he settled the guitar into place against him. His brown hair was wild and windswept from their day out in Cornwall, his scruff bordering on a beard. And he looked so sexy, she could hardly breathe.

  “Th
is is something I’ve been working on this week,” he said as his fingers began to strum a slow, seductive rhythm. The notes were deep and hypnotic, and here in the small, enclosed room, she felt the vibrations roll over her skin like waves in the ocean on the day they met, warm and rhythmic.

  “She lies next to me in the morning,” he sang, his voice deep and just a little bit gritty.

  She inhaled sharply as a ping of lust burned straight through her core. His voice seemed to echo deep inside her. She’d never felt anything like this before, and she’d seen just about every modern-day musician live. It was just Cole.

  All Cole.

  “I keep her close, breathe her scent, love her so, so deep.” His hands danced up and down the length of the guitar, and she watched, mesmerized. “And now she’s gone…oh…gone…gone girl…the girl is gone.”

  The tune started slow and seductive, picking up the tempo through the chorus as his love turned to heartbreak, and she was absolutely lost, caught up in the music, the lyrics, and Cole’s throaty voice. When he’d finished, she blinked as though coming out of a trance. “That was…it was amazing.”

  “It’s still rough, but I think it has potential,” he said.

  “Potential?” She stood and walked to him, out of breath as if she’d been the one singing. “That’s a number one hit on the charts.”

  “Been a while since I had one of those.” His gaze locked on to hers, and everything inside her heated up and seemed to quicken. Her breaths became gasps, her heart galloping along like an out-of-control horse while her blood seared through her veins.

  “Thanks for playing it for me.” She took another step, so close she reached out and rested her hands on the guitar still slung across his chest.

  “My pleasure.”

  She leaned in, and her eyes slid shut as her lips brushed his. “Cole,” she murmured.

  “Yeah?” His voice was like sandpaper, rubbing over every aroused cell in her body.

  “This is so much more complicated now that I’m your wife.”

  “Makes it all the more simple, the way I see it.” His lips moved against hers, and they were kissing, gasping as they grappled for each other over the guitar.

  “When’s the last time you had a relationship that lasted six months?” she asked, her lips hovering over his.

  “High school maybe? I’m not sure. Why?” His hands had snaked their way around to grip her ass, drawing her up against him, but the stupid guitar kept her hips from bumping into his.

  “Because if we have sex right now, you can’t walk away in the morning. You have to live with me for six months, and I think that might be easier as roommates than lovers.”

  His hands stilled. He lifted his head, meeting her gaze, his eyes dark and stormy. “Oh. That actually makes a shitty kind of sense.”

  She nodded, even as disappointment rushed through her because she was so turned on, she could hardly think, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Cole could rock her world. But sex had the potential to turn their budding relationship sour awfully fast, because they didn’t have any of the luxuries that most new couples had. They couldn’t take a step back or slow down if things weren’t working out.

  They were already married.

  “Jenn.” He slid the guitar over his shoulders and set it gently on the floor before yanking her flush against his body. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against her belly. “If we make it to six months, promise me we’ll have sex before you leave.”

  “I never promise a man sex,” she told him, even as her body burned for the chance. “But if we still want each other this badly when the clock runs out on our marriage, I think it would be a shame not to.”

  “A damn shame.” He rocked his hips into hers, and she almost didn’t recognize the needy sound that escaped her lips. “In the meantime, maybe we could be friends who fool around a little bit?”

  “I’d say we already are. Good night, Cole.” She smiled at him as she backed out of his arms. Gathering every ounce of her willpower, she left him standing there and went to bed, alone.

  7

  Cole wrapped an arm around Jenn’s shoulders as they walked down the jet bridge into the Cincinnati airport on Friday. He kept his hat pulled low over his ears and his head down as they walked, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He was pretty good at blending in when he needed to, but his presence on the flight had caused a fair amount of hoopla. Jenn had been unfazed, helping out with photos and autographs, and while he appreciated that she fit into his world so easily, he really wanted her to quit acting like a celebrity assistant and just be his wife.

  “I need to stop at the ladies’ room before we leave,” she said, heading not toward the public restrooms to their left but the VIP lounge farther down the terminal. Again, like a pro. Of course she was a pro. She’d traveled with Kate dozens of times, but somehow it continued to catch him off guard. Inside the lounge, they parted ways while he went into the men’s room and she went into the ladies’. When they met back up, she looked uncharacteristically tense.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, just…nervous.” She blew out a breath.

  “Now you’re making me nervous. They’re going to hate me, aren’t they?”

  She scrunched her nose. “Well, it’s definitely not going to be love at first sight. If we were doing this for real, I think you’d eventually win them over. As it is, the whole thing is going to be awkward, and I pretty much can’t wait to get it over with.”

  He gestured toward the bar at the other end of the lounge. “Liquid courage?”

  “God, no. The last thing we need to do is show up smelling like alcohol.”

  “Your parents don’t…?”

  “They’re super Catholic. They don’t drink or smoke or swear. Their lives pretty much revolve around the church. They’re embarrassed that I eloped with you, but the most embarrassing part about the whole thing for them is that we didn’t have a church wedding.”

  “Well, fuck me.” He’d been joking about the alcohol earlier, but now he really did need a shot of something strong to numb what was coming. Having Jenn’s parents look down their noses at him all weekend was going to blow. He’d disappointed plenty of people in his day, but for some reason, the idea of disappointing Jenn—or her parents—really stuck in his gut.

  “It’ll be fine,” she said, but she didn’t look any more confident than he felt.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling like a schmuck and not even knowing why, “for putting you in this situation.”

  Her chin went up, and her green eyes flashed. “You didn’t. Getting drunk-married was my idea, remember? So come on, let’s get this over with.”

  Hand in hand, they left the VIP lounge and headed toward the exit. They’d limited themselves to carry-ons for the trip so that they could head straight out of the airport, but even so, they had a small crowd following in their wake by the time they reached baggage claim.

  “How do you want to handle it?” Jenn asked quietly.

  “Are your parents here yet?” He darted a quick glance around them. Jenn’s parents had insisted on picking them up at the airport, but he wasn’t going to be able to hang around baggage claim for long without causing a scene.

  “I don’t see them.”

  “Then I guess I’ll shake a few hands until they get here.”

  Already a crowd was assembling around them, women screaming his name and holding up cell phones, taking pictures of him and Jenn as they talked.

  “Hi, guys.” He turned toward the fans, grabbing hands thrust toward him and leaning in for selfies.

  “You’re Jennifer, right?” one of them said to Jenn. “His new wife?”

  “That’s right,” Jenn said with a smile.

  The responses ranged from the sappy “Aww!” women made over something romantic to several of what he was pretty sure were groans of disappointment that he was officially off the market. Weirdly, he was relieved that Jenn’s pre
sence kept them from being as grabby handed as usual, and not a single reference to the size of his dick. Thank fucking Christ. Now that he’d started mingling, the crowd—as it always did—seemed to multiply as random passersby and the less pushy fans made their way in for a photo op.

  He smiled as a phone was shoved in his face. “Hey there.” He pointed to a woman in a Rock My Socks Off tee. “Great shirt.”

  She squealed in appreciation, thrusting her tits in his direction. “Will you sign it for me?”

  “Sure.”

  Jenn pushed a Sharpie into his right hand, and he wasn’t sure whether to be turned on or irritated that she was always so fucking well prepared. He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her lips before turning to the woman behind him. She held the shirt taut across her chest, indicating for him to sign right across her breasts. She had a nice rack too, not that he was looking. On the contrary, it felt strange—wrong—touching her, even in the context of signing her shirt. He scrawled his name across the fabric as quickly as possible.

  “Cole.” Jenn tapped him on the shoulder.

  He turned to find her standing next to an older couple that he knew at once were her parents. Her father was tall and lean with faded auburn hair that had probably once been just as fiery red as Jenn’s. He wore a white button-down shirt, khaki pants, glasses, and the kind of look that made Cole feel about six inches tall. Jenn’s mother stood clutching her husband’s hand, an anxious smile on her face.

  “Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald.” He extended a hand, painfully aware that they’d just watched him sign another woman’s breast and irrationally bothered that this was their first impression of him. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

  Jenn’s father gripped his hand, hard, his steely eyes boring into Cole’s. “Colton.”

  “We need to get out of here,” Jenn said, calmly guiding them toward the exit. “We can finish introductions in the car.”

  “I don’t understand. Who are all those people?” Jenn’s mother glanced over her shoulder at the fans still thronging behind them.

 

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