“Is it all right if I use the dance room for a little bit? I thought I’d get some practice in.”
“Yeah, sure,” Abby said. “It’ll be empty all day. Janaya had to cancel tonight’s class, and I don’t have the energy to cover it.”
Melanie rallied. “You should have said something. I can do it.”
“You don’t have to. I know you’re busy.”
“I’m not too busy to help a friend,” she said. “Come on, let me do it.”
Abby scratched at the edge of her mouth and looked like she was mulling something over. Melanie knew that look enough to fear it.
“Okay, spill it.”
“There’s nothing to spill. I was just wondering.”
Abby was trying far too hard to look casual. There was something brewing beneath that long, black ponytail. Something devious.
“Fine. I’ll bite. What are you wondering?”
“Derek and I were talking last night, and he mentioned that he has this friend—”
Melanie hid her face in her hands. “Oh, God. Now I’m the poor friend who needs everybody’s pity.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“Really? Because that’s what I’m hearing.”
“Why don’t you let me finish before you start complaining?”
“You’re right. Please, continue.”
“Derek and I were talking. He mentioned that a friend from the Montana newspaper where he worked is in town. He’d like to introduce him to some of the nightlife. Nobody likes to be a third wheel, so he wondered if I knew anyone who might join us.”
“So it’s a blind date? You know I hate blind dates.”
“It’s not. It’s just dinner with a few friends. No expectations. Just dinner.”
“Just dinner?”
“Maybe drinks afterward, but that’s it.”
“So dinner and drinks. Where?”
Abby perked up. “You’re going to like this: we’re taking him to Delaney’s.”
“Delaney’s on the Pier? The crazy-expensive Delaney’s on the Pier?”
“Mmm-hmm, and drinks at the Blue Thistle afterward.”
“Who’s playing?”
“Does it matter? If they’re playing the Thistle, they’ve got to be good.”
It was true. The Thistle was one of the best local venues for live music, and it didn’t hurt that it was steps from the Newport Beach surf.
“Okay, let me think about it.”
Abby smiled like she had a secret weapon.
“What?”
“Well, I should probably also mention that he’s totally hot. I’m taking Derek’s word for it, of course, but he said Cole had women lining up at the paper where they worked.”
Melanie laughed. “You had me at free dinner at Delaney’s, which is a good thing, because I’m certainly not taking your boyfriend’s word for it when it comes to rating guys. Sorry.”
“Suit yourself.” Abby shrugged, but she still looked pleased with herself.
| 40
The music room’s door flew open, barely missing the drum Taz had set down while he scribbled notes on the tattered, handwritten sheet music on his stand.
“Hey, ever hear of knocking?” he snapped at Gina.
She walked across the room and plucked the bulky headphones off his head.
“You don’t have to yell,” she complained. “I did knock. I’ve been knocking all day, but you’ve been hiding beneath these things.” She shook the headphones at him to emphasize her point.
He stared at his music, wishing she would just go back to New York. Hell, she could go anywhere, as long as it was far away. “I’m not hiding. I’m working.”
“Really? That’s interesting, because Garrett just called. He wants to know when you’re coming in to the office. He said you’ve blown off two meetings about the tour.”
The anger simmering in his gut erupted to a full boil. “Why are you answering my phone? You just can’t keep your nose out of my business, can you?”
“What’s gotten into you? I’m here, trying to help and all—”
“Help? Is that what you call it?” He tried to laugh, but it came out like scoff. He ran his fingers through his hair and clenched his eyes shut. I don’t need this, not now.
“I didn’t tell him anything. I didn’t even tell him you were home, but you can’t just lock yourself up in this room. You’re going to have to talk to him eventually. Wouldn’t it be better if he heard your side first? Before someone else tells him?”
He looked at her and shook his head. For someone who considered herself so much smarter than everyone else, she could be incredibly dumb.
“He already knows,” he said with forced calm. “I’m sure he’s known since the damn thing hit the Internet.”
“You don’t know that. Don’t assume—”
“I know,” he said with a finality that shut her up. “What I don’t know is why you care. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? It got rid of Melanie.”
He had more to say, but mentioning her name unexpectedly stopped him short. He could still see the way she looked the night she came back. The shame, the uncertainty. She said she’d come back for her things, but was that it? If only Tamara had stayed inside.
No, you idiot. It wouldn’t have mattered. It never mattered. It was all fake. Every minute of it.
He swallowed the lump rising in his throat.
Gina pounced. “How can you say that’s what I wanted? I’m just looking out for you.”
Of course she was going to put on the innocent act now that the damage was done.
“Why else would you lure Tamara here? You had your mind made up the minute you met Melanie, maybe even before.”
His sister straightened. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just thought there might be unfinished business between you and Tamara. That’s certainly the impression she gave me.”
“She gave you? Great. I’m so glad the two of you have gotten so close.”
“You know she feels terrible about what happened. People make mistakes. Can you blame her for wanting to make amends? You really didn’t have to chase her off to some hotel like she was a common—”
He jumped up and nearly knocked over the music stand. “You had no right to tell her she could stay here. You don’t live here anymore. Don’t you understand that? You can’t control everything. You can’t control me.”
She folded her arms in that motherly pose that made his skin crawl.
“I’m not trying to control you. I’m sorry you felt the need to put on a big charade to avoid my uncomfortable questions. This is not what I wanted,” she said. “Certainly not like this.”
He slanted a curious look at her. “Not like what?”
“Well, you know, the way it looks,” she sputtered.
“No, tell me. How does it look?”
“You know,” she said, her eyes darting around the room but finding nowhere safe to land. “There’s Mom and Dad’s legacy to think about. It doesn’t honor their memory to have our name dredged through the mud like this.”
His palm flew to his forehead. Now it was making sense.
“Our name,” he repeated. “Not my name but the family name. That’s why you’re concerned?”
Her face twisted. “Well, yeah. What do you think they would say about all this?”
“I’ve been thinking about that a lot these past few days. In a way, I think that’s all I’ve been thinking about. I didn’t have an answer before, but I think I do now. Mom and Dad would say, ‘Live your life.’ You have your life. You have a husband and a new home. I don’t know if you’re happy or not, but you have your own life. Now, I think it’s time I stop following the path everyone else thinks I should follow, and find my own.”
She shook her head. “Wait, what’s that mean?”
He smiled, and for the first time in days, it was genuine. He threw up his hands and shrugged. “I don’t know exactly, but I’m going to find out. First, I’m going to go see Garre
tt.” He brushed past her as he headed for the door. He stopped and turned back.
“I think you should be gone by the time I get back. I’m not angry, but I’m finished with letting you meddle in my life.” He walked back, took her by both shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, but you need to leave.”
| 41
Turned out, Derek was right on the money. Cole Winston was indeed hot.
Sure, there was the crease his cowboy hat left in his hair, bleached blond by the sun and trimmed short above the ears, and the western shirt that apparently passed as evening attire where he was from. But when his rosy lips pulled into a smile and his baby blues sparkled at the sight of her walking in with Abby, it made her knees turn to jelly.
“I told you he was handsome,” Abby whispered as they sashayed through Delaney’s bustling bar to join the guys at a cocktail table by the window. “Please be nice to him.”
“I’ll be nice,” she said.
Derek and Cole stood when they approached, and Cole tapped Derek’s chest good-naturedly. “You didn’t tell me we were going to have company. Such lovely company as this, no less.”
“I thought you might enjoy looking at somebody besides me today,” Derek said, obviously pleased at Cole’s reaction.
After the introductions were made, Cole took Abby’s hand and shook it, then Melanie’s hand, which he lifted slowly to his lips and kissed. “The pleasure is all mine,” he said.
Ordinarily, a hokey line like that would make her groan. From him it sounded unexpectedly sweet and sincere. She stifled the smile growing within her.
“Derek has been extolling the virtues of living in this Orange County of yours,” Cole said. “I’ll be honest and say I am not a big fan of the freeways or the hurry everyone seems to be in, but”—he turned to the window—“this view of the ocean”—he turned back and planted his gaze squarely on Melanie—“and the view in here is beginning to grow on me.”
“I told him,” Derek said, “with his head for numbers, he can pretty much write his own ticket in this town. Of course, I’m selfish and hoping he’ll take my offer to join the Herald.”
Cole smiled sheepishly, but he was saved from having to reply by the arrival of the hostess.
“Your table’s ready,” she said and led them to a cozy booth in a dimly lit corner of the restaurant.
For the next hour and a half, Cole guided the conversation away from work and skillfully coaxed information out of Abby and Melanie without seeming nosy. He was easy to like and doing everything but wave a sign that said he was interested in her. It would have made for a perfect night if she could stop comparing everything about him to Taz. Shorter hair, taller, and leaner build. A softer, quieter way about him, a way that deflected rather than grabbed the spotlight. He was such a gentleman, he didn’t even snap back when she tossed a snarky comment his way. Not the way Taz did. But that was better, right?
She told herself it was.
“So what kind of music do you listen to, Cole?” The abruptness of her question surprised even her. She reached over and took another sip of her red wine and smiled like it was just a casual question.
He glanced down at his western shirt, and chuckled. “Here I thought the cowboy shirt and boots would give me away. I’m flattered that you don’t assume I’m a good ol’ country boy. The truth is, I like all sorts of music. Haven’t kept up with the new music much, but I’m a fan of the classics. You know, Zeppelin, Van Halen, Rem.”
“You mean R.E.M.?” she said with more attitude than she’d intended.
He blushed. “Yeah, R.E.M. Like I said, music isn’t really my thing.”
She didn’t have to look at Abby to know her friend was giving her the “knock it off” look. She knew she was being a jerk, and she knew Cole didn’t deserve it. She just couldn’t stop herself. The more she looked at him and the more he spoke, the more she ached for Taz.
She pushed her chair back, removed the napkin from her lap, and grabbed her purse. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said and bolted for the ladies’ room.
She was in the stall with the door closed when Abby walked in after her, but she knew it was her even before she said, “Melanie, are you in here?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You don’t have to say anything. I know I was awful. I don’t know why… no, that’s not true. I know, but it’s no excuse.”
“What happened? Cole is a great guy. I thought you were hitting it off.”
“You’re right, he’s great. He’s awesome.”
“But?”
Melanie stood up, still fully dressed, and walked out of the stall to face her friend. “I don’t know. He’s just so country, and he doesn’t know about music. How can I be with someone who doesn’t know anything about music?”
“Basically it’s because he’s not Taz?”
Melanie sneered. “No, that’s not it. It has nothing to do with Taz.”
Did it?
“I’m not pining for Taz. I don’t pine after anybody. I never do. I never have. That’s why it’s so stupid to fall in love, because you just end up feeling like shit.”
Abby sucked in her lips. She had something to say, but she wasn’t saying it.
“What?” Melanie demanded, growing angrier by the second. “Why are you smirking at me?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not smirking. I never said you were pining for Taz. You said it. Actually, you said it twice, and you also mentioned love.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Abby made a face.
“If I did, I was just making a point.”
“To me? Or to yourself?”
It really sucked when Abby got like this, so patronizing and smug. It was completely infuriating, because now it was obvious. And she didn’t like it.
“I’m going to go insane if I stay here another minute.”
| 42
Melanie let herself in and switched on the lights. The studio looked so different at night. So silent and still. She could hear the traffic on busy Newport Boulevard, and the deep growl of a Harley cruising toward the beach.
It was only eight thirty, but most of the shops in the corner shopping center were already closed. Only the liquor store at the end was open, and it appeared to be doing a brisk business.
She turned the lock behind her, leaned against the cool plate glass, and took a deep breath.
When she told Abby she had to leave, she hadn’t intended to come to the studio. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it was perfect. She reminded herself mentally to thank Abby for shoving the keys in her hand and telling her to go.
She took another deep, restorative breath then looked down at her miniskirt and strappy sandals. The skirt was great for showing off her cherry blossom tattoo, but it wouldn’t make it through a minute of her dance routine. She eyed the newly arranged clothes racks in the boutique.
Abby wouldn’t mind a couple early sales.
She flipped through the stretchy yoga pants and settled on a black pair with “Belly Dancer” screened in red in a flattering arch over the rear. She grabbed a matching red mini-tank and stopped by the cash register to leave a note for Abby.
While she scribbled her IOU, she noticed a CD jewel case with a sticky note attached. She picked it up, and her chest tightened. In barely legible chicken scratch, it read, “A few experimental tracks. Tell me what you think, Taz.” Below his name was a phone number and an email address.
He must have dropped it off when he dropped off her stuff. Why hadn’t Abby mentioned it? But her frustration with Abby took a back seat to her curiosity.
What was on this disc? Were these new tracks for his solo album?
Only one way to find out.
She marched to the dance room and fed the disc to the stereo. A moment later, the speakers filled the room with a lively drum solo, but it wasn’t like any solo she’d ever heard before. It was Middle Eastern, but there were also Latin rhythms and—what was that? Greek? Romani? It was like a United Nations of sound
s, blending a world of influences into a single, amazing piece of music that made her hips shake and her shoulders shimmy.
Without realizing it, she was moving around the dance floor, translating the tempo into rapid-fire hip drops and the slower transitions into floating arms and hand flourishes. This music was infectious, and in an instant she knew this was the music of his heart. This was the kind of music his father had played. That was what he wanted to bring back to preserve his father’s legacy.
There was not just one track. She discovered there were four, all different, but all a wonderful musical bridge of world beats, yet there was something very Taz in the music, too. In her mind, she could see him playing this music in his recording room, striking every note, every chord.
Even more, she could feel how much the music meant to him. His intensity, his passion was as much a part of that recording as the music. She could feel him giving everything to that moment, just as he had given to her that night they’d spent together. She could feel the strength in his hands, not on the drum skin, but on her own skin, his fingertips traveling along every contour of her body, and directing all of that intensity onto her.
Had she really been so wrong about him? The music told her she wasn’t, and his music didn’t lie. He put his heart and soul into it. So why was it so hard to believe he could put just as much of himself into his feelings for her?
Why had she run at the first opportunity?
Now that was clear, too. Just like Abby had said, he hadn’t done anything besides talk to Tamara. Melanie had done the rest.
The truth was, she owed him much more than an apology, and it couldn’t wait five more days. It couldn’t wait one more day.
She didn’t even have to go back to the counter to retrieve his phone number, because the image of it was branded on her brain.
She fished her cell phone out of her purse and dialed.
Romance: Dance with Me (California Belly Dance Romance Book 2) Page 14
