by Nina Pierce
And now she had her sister’s crappy attitude tipping her past the breaking point.
“That’s it.” The pencil in Julie’s hand snapped with her patience. “I’ve been playing the contrite sister since last weekend while you’re acting like a spoiled brat.”
“Me?” Meghan laid a limp hand over her heart. “I’m not the one who went AWOL just to screw around with a total stranger. It’s obvious where your priorities lie.”
“Oh, like I knew Daddy was going to have a heart attack. Yeah, that’s me, always running from responsibilities.” The hurt tumbled over anger, rolling into an emotional snowball that plunged headlong without regret into Meghan’s feelings.
“Why do I always have to be the one to shoulder everyone’s problems?” Tears burned Julie’s eyes. “Julie, can you water my plants while I’m on vacation? Julie, should I have fish or steak for dinner? Julie, come home and pull my business out of financial ruin. Julie, talk to Doc McCarty about Daddy’s test results. Julie, feed me, clothe me, love me. Well, Meghan, when the hell do I get to lean on anyone?”
“That’s not fair!”
“You’re right, it’s not fair! It’s not fair that I live everyone else’s life, but can’t have one of my own. And when I finally do…I get punished for it!” Julie pushed away from the mess. “Frankly, Meghan, I’m sick of it. Sick of putting my needs on hold. Sick of trying to live up to everyone else’s expectations. Sick of,” she swiped the papers off her desk, “sick of all this crap.” She shoved past Meghan, but turned and stared down at eyes filled with tears and loathing. “And don’t worry about tonight, little sister. I realize it’s my turn to cook dinner. I’ll be the ever-vigilant daughter and hold back the tide. Like always.”
* * * *
Damon stared down at the cell phone in his hand, willing it to ring.
Julie still hadn’t called. And she hadn’t answered her phone either. Not her cell. Not her house phone. Not the phone at the shop. He’d left messages Sunday and Monday inquiring about her father—wanting to apologize. What really hurt is that she wouldn’t talk to him. So he’d just kept calling several times a day, praying she’d pick up the phone, but not bothering to leave a message when she didn’t.
“Hey, Demon, you get that promo done?” The station manager looked up from a handful of papers as they passed in the hall of WKOR.
“Heading over to record it now.”
“Whoa, dude! Don’t let your fans see you that way.”
Damon looked down at the black dress pants and tailored shirt. He ran a hand over his chin, wondering if he should do another quick shave before heading to Bangor. “No, that wouldn’t do would it?” Wouldn’t his boss be amused if he knew where Damon was headed this afternoon?
“Bad boys don’t clean up that nice,” his boss said over his shoulder.
“Yeah, thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”
Life was too short to spend time spinning your wheels somewhere you didn’t want to be. Somehow, in her very mixed-up world of family obligations, Julie had unknowingly drilled that point home. Shit, he missed her.
Damon slinked into the control room. “Hey, Randy,” he said to the tech.
“Demon.” Randy barely looked up until he caught the outfit and nearly fell out of his chair craning his neck into the studio. “What the fuck, man? Someone die?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Damon went through the motions of recording the promo, his mind somewhere else. When it was finished, he slapped Randy on the back and ambled out of the radio station. What had taken him hours to perfect three months ago didn’t even cause him any concern these days. Demon’s personality, like it or not—and he didn’t—was now an integral part of him. Yelling into a microphone to promote his next public appearance had become second nature. That was not good. Well, he was on his way to rectify that. Even if no one else knew, he was truly happy about his decision. He would have been more pleased if he could have shared it with Julie, but somehow her father’s heart attack had been his fault and she didn’t seem to give a shit what he did.
That was a depressing thought. Settling his sunglasses in place, Damon stepped out into the summer sun. The season hadn’t loosened its grip, and he was grateful he’d brought the Saturn with the air conditioning instead of the bike. With the weight of blame he slogged around over keeping Julie from her family adding to the oppressive humidity, Damon didn’t think he could have handled the bike anyway.
“Damon?”
He recognized the shaky voice, but not the shell of a woman speaking. “Julie?” He wanted to believe she was standing there and not just a mirage wavering in the heat rising off the tar of the parking lot. The wind danced with her hair, and she pushed it out of her eyes; emerald pools glistening with unshed sadness. He walked to her, but she looked too fragile to touch.
“Julie, what is it? Is your father all right? He didn’t…” Damon bent so he could read her face. As morbid as it seemed, he’d checked the obituaries every day. No John Tilling had been among the pictures. But the sadness rippling her brow said something different.
“No, he’s fine. Doc McCarty gave him heart medication and put him on a special diet. He just needs to take it easy for awhile. He came home Monday night.”
“Then what—”
“I’m sorry—”
They spoke at the same time.
“You go.” Julie’s mouth quivered in a half smile.
“No, you first.” Damon wanted so badly to gather her in his arms, but until he knew why she’d come to him, he didn’t intend to scare her off with words or actions.
“I’m not sure why I’m here, Damon. I was just driving around and…oh, I don’t know what I was thinking. I just need—”
“A friend?” he asked, when she couldn’t seem to figure out what she wanted.
“Yeah.”
Julie collapsed in his embrace. He guided her to his car parked in the shade and held her while emotion poured out with the sobs wracking her body. Her tears dampened his shirt, and all he could think was how she smelled like lilacs and felt like heaven pressed against him. He silently thanked the roads of fate that destiny had delivered her back into his arms.
He listened to her worried thoughts concerning her father’s health and justified complaints about her sisters’ behavior until time pressed him into action and he talked Julie into joining him. The woman who had filled his nights with restless thoughts of love and lust now sat in his passenger seat as he drove the Saturn out of the parking lot.
“You promise to have me at my parents’ house by four? Four-thirty at the latest?” Julie’s hands moved restlessly in her lap.
“If it means I have to rent a jet from Bangor, I will deliver you back to Delmont in time to make dinner for your parents.”
“And I have my cell phone.” She held up the device she clutched like a life preserver.
“I know your family needs you right now. But I’m happy you’ve decided to come with me.” That was an understatement. Just having her near gave him the boost of confidence he so desperately needed right now.
“When you said you wanted to play piano, you failed to mention you’re a trained pianist,” she said.
“My mother taught me.”
“Another side of Damon Corey I didn’t know.”
“That’s the real me.”
“Who? Tell me about the young Damon.”
He laughed. “Hell on wheels. That’s what my father used to say. I spoke two languages and could sweet-talk the girls in both of them by the age of ten.”
Julie laughed, the joy of it reaching up to push away the sadness that had filled her eyes. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“My mother used to sit me on her lap when she played. I started making music on the piano before I could write my name.”
Julie traced a finger in the dimple framing his smile. “She’s a concert pianist?”
“Mama? No, she used to play the violin. The piano was my
father’s instrument.”
“Used to? She gave it up?”
“My mother’s dead.”
“Damon, I’m so sorry.” Her fingers dug into his biceps. Of course she’d understand.
“Don’t be.” In an instant, his pride turned to bitterness. “She died when I was teenager. I’m over it.” Actually, talking about it still cut deeply, but he didn’t want those negative emotions to mar this day.
“No one gets over their mother’s death, Damon.”
“Yeah, well, seeing as she abandoned me to my drunken father and followed her lover to Europe, her death wasn’t really too much of a loss.” He swallowed, still finding the pill bitter all these years later. “She died on the autobahn in Germany exactly the way she wanted to live, fast and free.” He wanted it not to matter, but he could see by the furrow in her brow, that Julie understood it did.
“Damon, who knows why parents do the things they do.” Her palm cupped his jaw, and her thumb caressed his cheek. The action was not intended to be sensual, but his body reacted immediately. “But I might have an inkling why someone might run from familial responsibilities.” Dropping her hand to her lap, she turned to look out the window. “Sometimes they’re just overwhelming.” She shrugged as if to apologize for sympathizing. “Right or wrong, I can understand it.”
“Love can sometimes overwhelm a person.” Of course, he wasn’t talking about his parents. He was talking about his heart.
“So are you close with your father?” Julie asked.
He laughed derisively. “No. Without my mother to hold him up, he fell into the bottle and drowned himself. His death certificate reads liver failure. But in reality, he died of a broken heart.”
Leaving Damon utterly alone in the world.
* * * *
It was a wonder the man pouring his soul out through the piano keys didn’t simply collapse; an empty husk of a body, sacrificing everything to give life to the passionate strains of music filling the auditorium. Surely nothing so poignant could come from anywhere other than the heart. As melancholy notes penned by some dead composer plucked at her heartstrings, Julie could feel Damon’s sorrow filling her and resonating through every molecule of air.
How could the man who stood before crazed fans yelling derogatory obscenities be the same hurt little boy who had bravely withstood her barrage of questions about his family? Guilt pricked at her heart, making it hard to fill her lungs. As the emotional melody pulled her along its river of notes, she thought of her family. As much as they aggravated her, they also anchored her—gave her a sense of belonging. Damon was an orphan, an adult wandering aimlessly through life without any stabilizing beacon to guide him.
Silence rent her thoughts, and she had to keep herself from clapping for Damon’s performance. Even from this distance she could see the sweat glistening on his brow, the nervous tension turning down the corners of his sensual lips.
“Thank you, Mr. Corey.” The conductor who had been sitting with several other serious looking types walked to the edge of the stage and craned his neck up. “The board will be making a decision by the beginning of next week. We’ll let you know by then.”
“Thank you.” Damon bowed to the group of people seated in the front row and left the stage.
Julie rushed into the hall and followed the maze of corridors toward the stage entrance where she’d left Damon, nervous and fidgeting. He exploded out of the doors and grabbed her around the waist, twirling them both at a dizzying speed.
“Damn, did you feel that?” He set her down and paced. “I don’t care if they hire me.” He laughed as his fingers raked through his hair. “Okay, I care. But did you hear that?” Damon took her hand and pulled her along the corridor. “Ba-da… da-da-da-da.” The notes tripped off his tongue. “I nailed it! And it felt damn good! Liszt himself never played the Hungarian Rhapsody Number 2 with such passion. I’m sure of it. If they don’t want me, that’s their problem.” Damon pulled at the black bow tie until it hung limp around his neck. “I haven’t performed in front of an audience since college.” The collar buttons were next. “But damn, I haven’t lost a thing.” He wiggled his fingers in the air. “These, Julie, are my ticket. I just proved they’ve still got it.”
She stopped him and took his hands in hers. “Pianos aren’t the only instruments they make sing.” Her wink settled right in his groin, the tented dress pants evidence that her comment had sent him over the edge as she intended.
“You are a wicked woman, Miss Julie Tilling. What time is it?”
She checked her watch again. “Only two-twenty.”
“Time’s a wasting.” He threw her over his shoulder and jogged up the hall. Julie squirmed and shrieked with amusement, but he didn’t put her down until they reached his car.
He wound his way through the city streets and out into the neighboring suburbs of Bangor. Houses gave way to fields filled with lupine and then to thick stands of forest. Damon turned onto a dirt road, driving deeper toward privacy.
“I found this place a month ago,” he said as he parked the Saturn under the shade of an oak tree. Anticipation of having Julie writhing beneath him had his cock ready and alert before they’d left the parking lot of the auditorium “Is that all you have for shoes?”
“I came from work. It’s not like I planned on hiking in heels.”
“Oh, darling, we’re not hiking.”
“But surely you don’t think I’m going to…” She giggled and swirled the air between them with her hand. “You know…make love here where anyone can drive by and see us?”
“Umm, did you happen to see where you are? I’ve got you so far in the boonies, there’s no chance someone’s going to see that gorgeous naked body.” He swung open the door. “I never did learn to share.” He jumped out and turned only long enough to stare at her amused expression. “I’ve got running shoes in the trunk. I’ll carry you piggyback.”
She stomped out of the car, her luscious breasts bouncing with each step. Shit, he wanted to bury himself in her hot depths. Thank the heavens he left his running clothes in the trunk. He dug out his sneakers and toed out of his dress shoes.
“Damon Corey, you are not carrying me through the woods.”
“Then I will be stripping you naked and having my way with you right here.” He yanked her tight against him. “Because you’ve whipped me into a frenzy, and I will not be denied.”
“Is that a threat?” The desire shining in her eyes contradicted the fear the question implied.
Damon let go of her and bent to put on his sneakers. “Oh, you better believe it.”
Julie screamed and ran from him, but she didn’t get far in her heels. He caught up with her easily, wrapping her in a bear hug. “Now, you can piggyback, or I can throw you over my shoulder. I’m good either way.”
Her laughter joined the warm breeze ruffling his hair as she jumped on his back, her legs straddling his hips, her breasts pressed into his shoulders. It seemed every part of her fit his body.
“Don’t you dare drop me,” she said.
“I wouldn’t think of it.” He leaned forward, pretending to throw her off.
Her scream echoed off the trees, and her fist landed solidly on his shoulder. “You jerk.”
He laughed and carried her into the forest.
The musty scent of the earth mixed with the heady aroma of Julie’s perfume wrapped around his nose and made him lightheaded with anticipation. Her warm breath tickled his neck, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. She barely weighed anything, but the heat of her pressed against his back made the walk through the lush ferns very pleasant. Though he’d only been here once before, Damon had honed his sense of direction in the army and found the isolated waterfall someone at the radio station had told him about without having to retrace his steps. It had been winter the first time he’d come here on snowshoes, crisp and refreshing—solitary. This day, the lush foliage of summer and Julie’s company made the visit so much more inviting.
