by Lisa Lewis
Tom presumed it hadn’t exactly worked out that way.
“I took care of the company’s books, but Eric had to double-check everything I did. It really should have irritated him to do that, seeing as he still had his own accounts to manage, but he never complained.” A crooked smile briefly broke across her face. “It turns out he was happy with the extra duties.”
It was just enough of a comment to lead Tom on. “Why?”
“Because he could learn how I set up my accounts. How I arranged my files—both electronic and hard copies. Where and how to access those files.”
Crap.
He hoped this wasn’t heading where he thought it was.
Tom tried to feel his way along. “So Eric somehow mismanaged money in your accounts and you got in trouble for it?”
An unladylike snort was Beth’s reply to that stupid comment.
“I really don’t think the term mismanagement applies when it involves 1.5 million dollars.”
Oh.
Double crap.
Beth’s face tightened with anger, an emotion Tom was happy to finally see in her. “The appropriate term is embezzlement. At least, that’s what the SFPD told me when I was arrested.”
Her voice got harder as she continued. “It seems Eric, my trustworthy lover, my supposed soul mate, didn’t care for me at all. He only got close to me so he could frame me. He got access to all my files, anything at the office or at home. He probably figured out my computer passwords from personal information I shared. Or maybe I just told him outright. Who knows…I was gullible enough to trust him with other things, so why not security codes, too?”
Tom lifted her hand for a soft kiss, then placed it on his thigh. “You did nothing wrong. He did.”
Beth gave him a disbelieving look. “Well, the police and my bosses didn’t see it that way. Eric had manipulated the books in a way that implicated me but not him. He reviewed my work on the account, then he’d generate a report for his superiors. What I didn’t know was that he was modifying my numbers before he sent in his monthly reports. When the discrepancies between our books and JCM’s were finally caught, it all came back to me.”
“I was shown the reports Eric had sent, and I knew something was wrong. The numbers didn’t look right to me. But when I checked my work files, the numbers matched what was in the reports. The police had their proof, and I had given it to them.”
Tom could literally feel Beth’s distress as her short fingernails dug into his thigh. They’d leave a mark even through his jeans.
“I knew right then that Eric had done it. He was the only one who could have. I didn’t care where I was or who saw me. I was in handcuffs, in police custody, in full view of all my co-workers. And I screamed at him.”
“‘How could you do this to me? You said you loved me! Why did you do this?’ It didn’t matter what I yelled. He never even looked at me. He just spoke to the police.”
Bethany tugged her hand away, pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold. She spoke softly, carefully, staring off into space again.
“That bastard denied that we were in a relationship. He claimed I tried many times to seduce him, maybe to get him to go along with my embezzling plans.” Even in profile, Tom saw her eyes narrow.
“I was humiliated. He painted me as a love-starved psycho as well as a thief.”
He could stand it no more. Tom dragged Bethany onto his lap and into his arms, placed gentle kisses along her hairline.
“But you’re here now, sweetheart.” Another tender kiss, this time on her full lips. “So how did you get cleared?”
Beth’s hand gripped his shirt, pressed warm against his chest. She gave a quick smile, and a look of satisfaction flashed in her expressive eyes. “Eric didn’t know everything, thank God.”
“I backed up my files on a CD each month before I sent them to him. It was a habit I acquired in college, and, luckily, I never broke myself of it.”
“And the forensics lab found Eric’s fingerprints at my apartment. He tried to blow it off by saying he’d driven me home after work one night, when my car was in the shop.” Beth tucked her head under his chin. “But that explanation didn’t fly since they found his prints not only by the door but also on the headboard of my bed. Other private places, too. He couldn’t deny our relationship after that.”
Tom stroked his hands up and down Beth’s back, knowing this wasn’t easy for her to share. She let out another deep sigh, causing a firm breast to press into his chest.
“Eric wasn’t able to change the computer’s record of when he altered my files, so the crime lab didn’t have to work too hard to find that evidence. And since my CD copies of the original files also had a computer date stamp, the police really had all the proof they needed to charge him. They released me within a few days, but the trial dragged on for a while. It was a nightmare.”
Tom remembered what Detective Halsey had said earlier, and rage flowed through him. Bethany had gotten emotionally jerked around, framed for embezzlement, and then had to relive it all when she testified in court. Sharpe’s threats were acidic icing on an already poisonous cake.
“What did that bastard say to you? What did he threaten to do?”
Beth lifted her head. Her gaze traveled over his face as her fingers caressed his clenched jaw. “Don’t worry about it. He called me nasty names, said he was going to get me for this. You know—the usual bluster of a raving lunatic.”
Her eyes met his. With all her anger melted away, there was nothing left but a calm, clear sea of pale blue.
“I don’t believe Eric would ever waste his time coming after me. He was caught mostly due to his own carelessness. I really contributed only a small part to the evidence.”
“How can you say that? You gave the cops your back-up files. You let them search through all your personal stuff to get his prints, proving he was a liar and had access to your work outside the office. I’d say that was a lot!”
Tom couldn’t believe she wasn’t concerned for her own welfare. But that was okay. He’d worry enough for the both of them.
And he would make sure Bethany stayed safe.
Chapter Eight
Beth could tell Tom didn’t believe her. She appreciated the anger and concern she saw in his dark brown eyes, but she didn’t think it was necessary. Eric would only be focused on staying out of prison—not exacting revenge on her.
No, she didn’t want Tom thinking about the past, per se. She was only interested in whether he still wanted a relationship with her despite her past.
She supposed this was the time to find out for sure, now that all her naïveté—or was that stupidity?—was out in the open.
“So … do you think you could find an idiot like me attractive? I mean, how much did that story turn you off?”
Beth lost her nerve, dropping her gaze to where her hand rested against his warm, strong chest. She could feel his heart beating steadily beneath her palm, and she hoped she’d soon have the chance to caress his bare skin at leisure.
Tom would have none of her reticence. He lifted her chin, staring hard into her eyes before slowly moving forward to press a long, lingering kiss on her lips. Her mouth opened beneath his, and his tongue hungrily explored inside.
After what seemed like an endless amount of time, he pulled back, breathing harshly. Beth could only stare at him, disorientated.
“I hope that answers your question. But in case my actions weren’t clear, here are the words.” The intensity of his gaze held her in place. “What happened to you in San Francisco does not make you an idiot. It doesn’t make you stupid or dishonest or promiscuous, either.” He paused. “It makes you human.”
Beth forcibly cleared her mind so she could focus on what he was saying to her.
“Did you do anything wrong? Anything criminal?”
She shook her head. “No, but—”
“Did you do anything wrong?” Tom asked again, more insistently.
“No. I didn’t take any money.”
He cupped her face in his hands. Spoke softly, but firmly. “Then why would I treat you any different than I did before? Why would I feel any different?”
She absorbed the care and acceptance emanating from him. His reaction to her story floored her, and she fought against the unexpected moisture welling in her eyes.
“The only thing you did was have a lapse in judgment. You got involved with someone, and it turned out bad.”
She couldn’t help but give him a look. Oh, please.
“Fine. It turned out really bad,” he conceded. “But, in my opinion, that still doesn’t reflect poorly on you. We all have relationships which don’t work out, one way or another, before we find the right person.”
Wait, was Tom hinting that he was the right person for her?
She certainly hoped not. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, go through another disastrous relationship.
Eric had hurt her on purpose, meaning to send her off to prison while he walked away scot-free.
Tom would hurt her, too. He wouldn’t mean to do it. She knew he was a good man, that he cared about her.
But she also knew his planned path in life led in the opposite direction from hers.
Heartbreak was inevitable in the long run, which was why she couldn’t allow herself to care too deeply for the man.
Right, she told herself as Tom leaned down to give her another soft, tender kiss.
Like she wasn’t already way past that point.
•
“Guys, I’ve got good news!”
As George entered the room, Tom turned toward him, expecting to hear a second line relating to car insurance.
But George waited until he had the attention of everybody in the backstage dressing area.
“I just got off the phone with Marty. Freestone is very impressed with what’s happened on tour so far. The shows have all sold out. More merchandise had to be ordered because we ran out in Richmond. The CD is getting serious radio play, and it’s moving up the charts quick.”
“Yeah, George, that’s great news,” Leo said.
The rest of Roadhouse nodded in agreement, backslaps and congratulatory comments flying among the men.
“But that’s not all. There’s more to it.” George again waited for silence. “You’re being upgraded to a tour bus as of tonight. No more motor homes.”
Tom thought of Beth. “What about the crew?”
The older man knew what was on his mind. Or rather, who. “Beth will be fine. She’ll be on a second bus with me and the other guys. Hotel rooms have been reserved for you for the remainder of the tour. They’ll be within walking distance or maybe a short drive away from the concert halls.”
George waved and turned to leave. “No dawdling after the show tonight, boys. You’ve got packing to do.”
Despite Tom needing to complete his preparations to go on stage, he hurried to catch up with George as the man crossed into the backstage hallway.
“George?”
The road manager turned, an inquisitive look on his face.
“Yes, Tom?”
“I need to talk to you. About Beth.”
George’s eyes flicked past Tom’s shoulder. He turned to see his band mates unabashedly looking his way, listening in on his conversation.
Tom loved the guys like brothers, but he didn’t want any stories circulating about Beth that she herself didn’t tell in the first place.
He reached out and pulled the dressing room door firmly shut. “Sorry, fellows.”
He turned to George once again, ignoring the “Oh, man!” and other sounds of frustration at his back.
“What’s up, Tom?”
He hesitated, unsure of what exactly Bethany had told her father about the police visit earlier that day. Or if she’d told him anything at all.
But fear for her safety was foremost in his mind, and he was willing to share her secret with the only family she had if it meant she’d be better protected.
“Did Beth tell you what happened earlier, during her break?”
George’s cheery disposition instantly disappeared. “I know the police were here, and that Eric Sharpe is running around free, possibly intending to hurt my daughter. I assume that’s what you’re referring to?”
“Yeah, that’s it exactly.” Tom was happy Beth hadn’t kept the news from her father. He felt better knowing he had help in looking out for her. “I’m real glad to hear about the bus situation. Especially now. If Beth still had to stay with Hannah and Liz in their motor home alone, with no real protection, I’d go nuts. This change couldn’t have come at a better time.”
“Tom, don’t worry so much. If that creep ever tries to come near Beth, he’ll have to get through me and the rest of the crew first. All the concert halls have top-notch security, and the hotels do, too.”
“But to be on the safe side,” George continued, “I’ll get a picture of Sharpe faxed to the scheduled venues, to put them on watch ahead of time. If he shows up, the cops will get ’em.”
Understanding radiated from the man’s blue eyes. They were a shade darker than his daughter’s, but just as expressive. After a short hesitation, he went on in a softer tone.
“I know you care for my daughter. And I know she cares for you, too. I’ve seen how you two look at each other. Hell, anyone who’s been in the same room as you guys has seen it.”
“But don’t let those feelings get in the way of the music. You won’t get this opportunity again. There are plenty of bands waiting to take Roadhouse’s place.”
George placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder. Gave it a quick, firm shake. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d be damn glad to have you as my son-in-law. But I’ve been in this business longer than you’ve been alive. I don’t want to see you regret that you didn’t give this your best shot when you had the chance.”
George’s gaze narrowed. His grip hardened.
“And if you’re not happy with yourself, there’s no way you could be making my little girl happy.”
He gave Tom’s shoulder one final pat before removing his hand. “The tour is over in three weeks. Bethany will still be around when it’s over. Trust me.”
“She’ll be safe, and she’ll be there for you. No matter how things go in your career, she’ll still be there.”
And with that, George resumed his retreat to the stage area, leaving Tom to ponder the man’s prophetic remarks.
•
After her first “date” with Tom in Macon, Beth had deliberately stayed nearby to watch each Roadhouse performance. Technically she was off-duty during the shows, but she loved watching them. It didn’t matter that she had to get right back to work afterward, disassembling and packing up equipment. She couldn’t not watch.
And it wasn’t just Tom that held her attention. The dynamics of the group, how they interacted with each other and with the audience, held her enthralled.
The length of the performance was twice that of the average band’s set. Not having an opening act gave more time for Roadhouse to showcase their talents. But since they’d only released one album, they had a limited number of original songs to play.
And no matter how popular those songs were, nobody wanted to hear them three times in the same night.
So Roadhouse interspersed their own songs with cover versions of hits from other bands. They put their distinctive spin on tunes from the Beatles to the Stones and Eagles, from Motown harmonies to a cappella ditties.
No genre of music was exempt from their brand of attention. And no matter what they played, they kept the audience, including Beth, enraptured.
It wasn’t just the songs they sang; it was their incredible energy. They frequently changed instruments, showing their versatilities not only in song styles but also in abilities.
Electric guitars gave way to acoustic ones. A drum set gave way to bongos. Electric keyboards gave way to a grand piano. The guys utilized solos to highlight their talents, regardless of whi
ch instrument they were playing at the time.
Even Liz and Hannah added to the melodies being played by occasionally banging and shaking tambourines.
Through it all, Beth could see how much fun everyone was having, how overwhelming the whole experience was. Especially during slow ballads, she could see the intense emotions on the guys’ faces.
And no matter how sad the lyrics of the song were, she knew the members of Roadhouse wouldn’t trade that moment, on that stage, for anything else in the world.
Her current viewpoint from near the speaker tower at stage right allowed her to see both the band and the first rows of the audience. The fans were swaying in their seats, singing and clapping along to the rocking beat of one of Roadhouse’s own country tunes.
As her gaze traveled over the excited crowd, something struck her as odd.
Beth’s eyes sought out and found what had seemed out of place—a younger, dark-haired woman sitting a few rows back. She was just sitting there, staring at the stage.
While everyone around her was enjoying the performance, smiling, laughing, moving with the music, this girl just sat still, seemingly immune to the activities around her.
Maybe she was deaf, although it would’ve been pretty stupid to spend money for a concert she couldn’t hear.
She could be blind, but she’d still be able to hear the music and react to it, which wasn’t happening.
And Beth could see the brunette’s head moving, following the movements of someone on stage. She shifted her own gaze.
It was Tom.
The fan was watching Tom as he crossed the stage, performing a rousing solo near the end of the song.
Yeah, the man could play.
The muscles in his forearms flexed and shifted as he put everything he had into the music. His grin was blinding.
As Beth’s focus narrowed on Tom, a final thought of the too-serious spectator ran through her mind.
Maybe the girl hadn’t cared much for that particular song …
•
She was thrilled.
