by Lisa Lewis
Too bad.
He wanted some answers.
“I really thought we were getting close. Extremely close.”
Her eyes lowered at that, but quickly she lifted her gaze, and her chin, to face him again.
“So can you tell me why you kept something so important to both of us a secret? Didn’t you think it was something that could bring us even closer?” He held her gaze, willing her to respond.
“Yes! All right? I did think that!”
“And?”
She averted her face, looking toward a mountain landscape hanging on the far wall.
Then it hit him.
She didn’t want to get closer to him.
A terrible ache began in his heart. And, just like that, he knew two things for sure.
He was in love with Bethany.
But she obviously wasn’t in love with him.
“Do you still want to have sex with me?” he asked point-blank.
Her head snapped back toward him, eyes narrowed. “What does that have to do with my singing?”
“Just answer the question.”
She blew out a harsh breath. “Yes, I want to have sex with you. I’m attracted to you, and I care about you.”
She leaned forward to press a warm palm against his cheek. He closed his eyes, welcoming her gentle touch.
“Tom, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said softly. “But I figured it wasn’t information you needed to have since we’d only be seeing each other for a few weeks. How was I to know this situation would come up?”
The ache in his chest intensified.
“So now you know, and I can help the band. What’s the big deal?”
Now he was the one who had to pull away.
He pushed off the sofa and paced to the window. “The big deal is you don’t trust me.”
“What? Of course I trust you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t voluntarily be singing in front of thousands of people.”
She, too, stood, and he turned to face her.
“This isn’t about the band. It’s about us.” Tom crossed to Beth, grateful they stood almost eye-to-eye with each other. He wanted them to be equals in whatever hackneyed relationship this was. He didn’t want to pressure her into anything.
Even though it was killing him.
“I feel like I’ve had to forcefully extract every bit of information I know about you.”
“That’s not true! We’ve talked about personal stuff plenty of times.”
“Yeah. Your favorite color, favorite movie—but those aren’t the kinds of things I’m talking about. And the only reason you told me about Eric is because the cops showed up.” He took another step closer. “I want to know what’s really affected you in your life. What made you the fascinating woman you are today.” Tom carefully brushed a loose tendril of hair from her face. “Is that too much to ask?”
He could see from the confusion in her eyes that it was.
So he backed off a little, both physically and emotionally. He dropped his hand and returned to the more generic topic of music. “Could you at least tell me how you became such a great singer?”
He waited, hoping she’d share this small part of herself.
•
Beth moved back to the sofa and watched as Tom also sat down again. This time he stayed at the opposite end, his face unreadable.
She loved him so much. She’d never meant to hurt him.
But obviously she had, and she needed to make up for it.
She didn’t want their last weeks together to be ruined by her stupid reluctance to open up.
“I never said I hated music. I just hated the lifestyle I had growing up. I wanted a normal life, with a house, and friends, and dinner on the table at six every night.”
“Most kids dream of having the vagabond life you had. Meeting famous musicians, traveling all over the country.”
“Yeah, well, the grass is always greener and all that.” She slouched down into the cushions and propped her legs on the coffee table.
A flash of heat appeared in Tom’s eyes as they followed the line of her extended limbs, bare below her denim shorts. Nice to see her brash personality hadn’t totally turned him off.
She supposed she could distract him with sex, now that they were finally alone. But he deserved more than that.
And, for that matter, so did she.
If they actually had the chance to make love before she left, she wanted it to last a while. She didn’t want to hurry because friends were waiting to have lunch with them.
“Anyway, when I started college, I’d already thought about trying to graduate early. With accounting being such a grueling, methodical major, I wanted to pick a less intensive minor. Something that was relatively easy.”
She shrugged. “Music came easy to me. Even though I resented it as a child, I was surrounded by it and couldn’t help absorbing it. It became second nature.”
“Math and music aren’t all that far apart,” Tom observed. “You have to grasp the basic concepts of time and measurement to be any kind of musician. Aside from the way you were raised, I can see why someone like yourself would like singing.”
She crooked an eyebrow at him.
“You’re a problem-solver. And the arrangement of each song—the rhythm, lyrics, instrumentation—it’s all a puzzle which has to be pieced together just right to work. To be good.”
Beth mulled over what he’d said. “So you attribute my musical abilities to the analytical side of my brain, not the creative side? You think because I’m an accountant, I can’t enjoy music just for itself? I have to love it for its mathematical properties?”
Tom closed his eyes and gripped his short hair until his knuckles turned white. “There’s that problem-solving tendency again,” he muttered. “Has to have a clear-cut answer for everything.”
He emitted a deep sigh, lowered his arms, and stared at her. Hard.
Trapped by his chocolate gaze, she waited for his reply.
“No, I don’t think that at all. I think you’re smart and creative. You’re an intelligent, beautiful, sexy bean counter who can do anything she sets her mind to. Including driving me crazy!”
He moved fast, surrounding her with muscular arms planted on the sofa’s back and side. “Now stop trying to change the subject.”
Despite his stern warning, her lips curved upward. “You think I’m a sexy bean counter?”
His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Yeah,” he growled. “I do.”
His lips covered hers, and she felt complete for the first time in days. Long days and even longer, restless nights.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, clasped them around his neck to hold him close.
It had been so long since they’d been able to kiss, let alone anything more. She didn’t want to waste a single minute.
Beth loved how he kissed. He took his time, outlining every bit of her mouth with his own before exploring deeper with his tongue.
She took her time exploring his mouth, too. He tasted faintly of mint.
Delicious.
Cupping his jaw in her hands, she felt the stubble covering his skin. Apparently he hadn’t had time for shaving that morning, but she didn’t mind.
The bristles rubbed against the already sensitized nerve endings of her lips and palms, adding to the feelings of desire coursing through her.
God, she wanted him.
Loved him.
Trusted him.With her entire being.
And that realization made her pull back.
He groaned, leaned in for another kiss. And she couldn’t resist one more taste of him, either.
She lowered her hands to press them against his chest. Felt his heart beating fast under her palms.
And knew she mustn’t wound that heart any more than she already had.
Beth reluctantly pushed harder against him. Tom withdrew, a questioning look on his face.
“I want to finish my story,” she explained. “You deserve to hear the rest.”
A brief flattening of his lips was the only sign of his indecision, but it was enough to make Beth’s determination waver. Oh, those sexy lips…
“Okay.” He reclined against the cushions and pulled her back into his arms. The warmth of his torso burned through their T-shirts, heating her spine. He threaded his fingers through hers and laid them across her abdomen.
“So go ahead and finish.” He kissed the crown of her head, and she never felt so safe and secure.
What was wrong with her that she couldn’t believe this feeling could last forever?
“Beth?”
Right. One step at a time. Finish the story about college. Then worry about spending the rest of your life without the man you love.
“Um, yeah. There’s really not much more to it. I chose music as my minor, breezed through the courses on music theory and music history. I’d lived through a lot of the recent stuff firsthand, and the rest I’d heard plenty of stories about over the years.”
She looked down at the hands enfolding hers. So strong. So capable.
“But what I enjoyed the most—and I hadn’t expected to—was the actual music instruction. I took voice lessons and a bit of piano, too. But singing was the best. It was a great way to relieve stress.”
Sex was a great stress reliever, too, but she kept that thought to herself. Time for that later. Maybe.
“When I entered the MBA program, I missed the relaxation of music classes. So I joined up with a community chorus. It was fun, and because it only met once a week for a couple hours, it didn’t take much time away from studying. We performed at local schools, nursing homes. Things like that. Nothing like what you guys do—what you’re asking me to do.”
“You’ll do great.” He placed a kiss on her temple, squeezed her in an encouraging hug. “So what happened after you finished school? Did you stay with the chorus?”
Beth shook her head. “No. I stuck with it for a while, but once Eric and I got together, I quit.”
“Did you want to quit?”
“No.” The word was out before she could stop it. “I mean, I don’t think so. It just sort of happened. Eric would make plans, and I’d go along with them.”
Tom was silent, and, once again, Beth felt ashamed of her past behavior.
“At the time, I wanted to be with him so badly it didn’t matter that my own plans were dismissed. Pretty pathetic, huh?”
Tom maneuvered so they were once again face-to-face. “No. Not pathetic. Wrong. It was wrong on his part to ignore your interests, your hobbies. Your desires.” He grasped her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “I don’t know why the hell you keep trying to take the blame for what this jerk did to you. From everything you’ve told me, he was a self-serving, domineering prick.”
Her lips twisted into a deprecating smirk. “Yeah. That planting of evidence bit certainly doesn’t put him in a good light.”
He shook her again. Harder. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. By cutting you off—from your own friends, interests, whatever—he was setting you up from the get-go. He wanted your entire existence to revolve around him. He wanted to control you.”
Beth pushed up and walked away. “But don’t you see? I let him!”
She turned back to Tom, still seated. “I let him have control. I lost myself to the point I didn’t care that I wasn’t singing anymore, or having dinner with girlfriends. I allowed it to be all about him.”
Tom extended an arm, inviting her back to the sofa. Wanting his comfort, his nearness, she reclaimed her seat next to him.
He wrapped his arms around her, tucked her head beneath his chin, and kissed her hair. “In a healthy relationship, it should always be about them. Two people are involved. And both of them are risking their hearts, their souls, in order to stay together. If both parties don’t support and appreciate the individuality of the other, the relationship won’t work.”
Beth raised her head. “How did you get so profound? Is this some of your yoga teachings coming through?”
“Nope. No yoga.” He shrugged. “It’s just that my parents had a great marriage. They were together nearly thirty-five years before my mom died. They had their little quarrels, and there was a lot of compromise, but they were always there for each other. And I want a marriage as strong as theirs was.”
Marriage.
How did they get onto that topic?
If he’d meant to get her mind off her affair with Eric, he’d succeeded. But it was best to move on. Literally.
She once again rose to her feet. “Well, I know nothing about good marriages, but I do know about good food. And my stomach wants some real bad.”
She walked to the door and looked back. “Ready for lunch?”
He shook his head but still joined her, a smile on his face. He reached past her to open the door. “You just love to keep me guessing, don’t you?”
“Right back atcha, buddy.”
His smile widened into a grin before he leaned down to kiss her forehead. Then he took her hand and led her down the hall.
“Let’s go eat.”
•
Something was different in Tom’s performance tonight.
He still looked scrumptious. Still sang and played awesomely.
But he had a new vibe about him. An extra bit of energy.
She let her gaze roam all around, searching the concert hall, the audience, the stage, for what was responsible for the change.
Maybe he’d already received the gift she’d arranged for him at the front desk. She’d asked that it be delivered when Tom returned to his room after the concert, but the clerk could have messed up.
And that meant Tom’s edginess was due to his impatience to meet with her after the show. Alone, for the first time ever.
She’d spent almost eight months walking past Crowley’s Hardware on a daily basis, hoping for a glimpse of him through the store’s large windowpanes.
There would be no reason for someone of her social class to enter a hardware store, so why draw attention to herself? Men like Tom preferred a more subtle approach. She was sure of it.
He came from a working-class family, but he deserved high-class treatment all the way. Which was why she’d had delivered an elegant fruit tray consisting of luscious strawberries, grapes, pears, apples, and oranges.
Of course, the warm caramel and chocolate fondues would be useless if her gift was sent too early, but she could quickly have them replaced. And in the meantime there was always the whipped cream…
A dreamy smile crossed her face as she momentarily got lost in her thoughts, and when she refocused on the present, Tom was standing by the back-up singers. Which didn’t bother her because Tom often moved around the stage when he wasn’t singing.
But as she continued to fixate on him, she noticed he spent an extraordinary amount of time near the blonde in the black dress.
Wait. She was sure there hadn’t been a blonde back-up singer in Roadhouse’s previous shows.
She fumbled through the tour program she held—her eleventh one—scanning over the photo spreads of the band.
No, the only blondes pictured were Leo and Jack. No blonde woman anywhere.
She’d thought the backing vocals had sounded a bit off.
The girl’s eyes narrowed as she followed Tom’s movements, watching as he threw numerous smiles in the blonde’s direction.
This had to stop. And it would, after tonight.
Tom would find the note she’d written him, directing him to her room and instructing him to bring her gift along with him.
Erotic visions of feeding each other fresh fruit, drizzling caramel and chocolate over each other’s body only to lick it off, took over.
She lost track of what was happening on stage, but it didn’t matter. She knew the entire song list by heart, and what happened later, with Tom, was going to be the most exciting event of her night.
Of her life.
Because it was the start of their new life
.Together.
Before she knew it, Leo was introducing the band members.
She clapped appropriately for Sam, Jack, and Dylan, but then whistled, screamed, and shouted her head off for Tom. Even though her parents would disapprove of her actions, saying she was making a fool of herself, she didn’t care.
She would do anything for Tom.
And then Leo got to the back-up singers. “And last, but certainly not least. Ladies and gentlemen, let me present two very lovely and talented ladies.”
She waited.
“Hannah Patterson …” The redhead smiled and waved to the audience.
“… and Beth Miller!” Now the blonde received her acknowledgement from the crowd.
The girl once again opened the program, this time looking for the band listing. Under “Backing Vocals” were the names Hannah Patterson and Elizabeth Garcia.
So who was this other woman, and where had she come from?
And then her eyes caught the name Bethany Miller. It was listed under the category “Crew Personnel.”
A roadie.
The woman was a roadie.
There was only one way that a woman hired to haul equipment could attain the status of singer: She had somehow tricked Tom into helping her.
Obviously Bethany Miller was a money-grubbing tart who was trying to sink her claws into him.
Well, the blonde could still sing if she wanted, but that was all she could have. After tonight, the woman would know her plan to seduce Tom wasn’t going to work.
Because Tom loved her. And this Beth was nothing to him.
Nothing.
Chapter Eleven
Tom couldn’t stop watching Bethany.
She was clear on the other side of the room, talking and laughing with Hannah, Jack, and Sam, and he couldn’t stop looking at her.
Prior to tonight, he would’ve told the world he thought she was beautiful. But not now.
Because at this moment, she was beyond her usual beauty. She was absolutely stunning.
Her everyday stylings were gone.
No more long braid or ponytail with a baseball cap. No more simple applications of eyeliner and lip-gloss. No more jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers.
With Hannah’s help, Beth had transformed into a vivacious siren. And just like the sailors of lore, he was helpless to ignore her call.
