Good thing she didn’t like him right now. No chance for her to get dragged into a relationship with the jerk. Too bad he was an egotistical narcissist who thought it was all about him, because she could have really liked him. Like, really. If only show biz hadn’t warped him.
But could she blame Josh? He was a product of his career. Most people didn’t know how to handle success. Not celebrity and fame on that level, at least. It wasn’t something the ordinary brain could process well. And apparently, Josh Nicodemus-Cohen-Matthews was no exception to the hard-and-fast rule Jordan had learned by the hard knocks of the industry.
The business corrupted everything it touched. No one survived it. And for Josh to think Tony might navigate the rough waters without losing his soul was just plain stupid.
She wouldn’t fall for him. His charming words, his skilled mouth or hands, or his optimism about the industry. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, buy it.
No way, no how.
So if she closed her eyes and enjoyed his music for a few minutes longer than she’d planned, what did it matter? No one would know. Something about his tone, the chords he played, the words, soothed her. No one would know that she’d already begun to fall just a little for the rock star who lived upstairs.
“J.D.? What are you doing back here?” Tony asked.
Jordan’s eyes snapped open. She pushed off the siding of the cafe. Tony stood there, a huge bag of garbage in each hand. How the hell had he approached without her hearing him? Damned if she knew. “Ah, just taking a break from the madhouse in there.”
Tony looked up and with a nod of his head indicated the music coming from the roof. “He’s good, isn’t he? Has a hypnotic quality. You can’t help yourself from falling.”
“Falling?” She snapped. “No one is falling.” She glared at the roof. “He’s okay. Nothing special.”
Tony laughed at her outright lie. “That’s not what the dreamy expression on your face said.”
“He’s a man. Unfortunately, he’s an attractive man who knows it and isn’t afraid to use it to his advantage.” She couldn’t help the harsh, bitter note that laced her words. She should try to be neutral where Tony was concerned. She had no right to try to poison him toward Josh. But, hell if she knew how to temper her tongue at the moment.
“Isn’t that what all entertainers do? Cash in on their looks and talent?” Tony walked to the enclosed area for the garbage. He lifted the lid of the can nearest him and heaved the two bags into it, slamming the hard plastic lid shut. “Isn’t that what you did? Used your looks to your advantage when you were in the business? Mom says you were good. Were you?”
Jordan slipped her hands into her back pockets and shrugged.
“Why won’t you talk about it?” Tony’s attitude turned surly. “You don’t want me to go into the music business, but you won’t talk to me about what happened to you, why you think it’s such a bad idea. I can’t just go on your because-I-said-so. Sorry. This is too important to me.” Tony brushed past Jordan.
“Wait.” She touched his arm. He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her. He was right. She had to talk about it. But did she know how? She wasn’t sure she had the words yet. She might never. But she had to try. “I was good. I am a good actress. And there were parts of the entertainment business that I loved. Adored. But I wasn’t good at figuring out what was best for me and what wasn’t and it almost destroyed me. I made some pretty bad choices that have stuck with me over the years. I don’t want that for you. Wouldn’t it be better for you to go to college first? Then, once you have your degree, if you still want to go the entertainment route, then fine.”
Tony nodded once, mouth tight. “You can’t live my life for me, J.D., you know that, right? I get to make my own mistakes. And I’m not sure I want to go to college. I’m not very good at school. I’m creative. I want to make music.”
“Yes, I know this is your life, but I’d like you to learn from my mistakes, it’s less painful that way.”
“I can’t do that if you won’t let me in. Won’t let me know why you think it’s such a bad lifestyle. All you’ve said is don’t do it. It’s bad.”
“Fair enough.” She ruffled his hair. He pulled back, not liking her mussing his curly mop of hair. “We’ll talk soon. I promise.” She smiled at him. “Now get back to work.”
He nodded solemnly and took a few steps, then looked at her over his shoulder. “You don’t need to be so hard on him. Can’t you give him a chance?”
Jordan sighed. “For your sake, I’ll try. Really, I will, Tony. But I’ve seen his type a million times. They leave a swath a mile wide when they leave. Pure carnage in their wake. They use people for what they need and they move on. It’s all about them.”
The image of her own mother popped into her head. The phone conversations, the years of battling the supreme narcissist Helene Drake.
“I think he’s different.”
“You would think that.” Jordan studied the ocean waves in the distance. “The optimism of youth.” She turned to peer at Tony. Such a handsome kid. Olive skin and a strong nose, big brown eyes with a sad slant and a curly mop of dark hair. The sweetness of his face, the strength of his young man’s freshly shaved jaw, all twisted something protective and maternal inside her.
She wanted so much to keep him from taking the wrong path. But she didn’t know if she could talk about her mistakes in a way he’d understand. Or if he’d even listen to her.
“It’s not false hope, J.D. I see him, and I know. Here.” Tony thumped his chest. “Artists are different. He’s sensitive, but he tries to hide it. I understand him. He speaks my language, J.D. He’s part of my tribe.” Tony turned to stare out at the ocean, too. “His songs shift something inside me—from angry and desperate to, I don’t know, if not hopeful, then to a place where everything is okay. Where I know I can get beyond today. Beyond this next moment. I feel his music. It moves me. And that’s what I want to do. I want to move people, help them make sense of what they’re feeling. Convince them they’re okay. Just as they are. And that they can reach for tomorrow.”
Jordan had tears in her eyes. She sniffled. “Okay. I’ll give him a chance. But I don’t have to like him, and I don’t have to actively embrace his lifestyle or want it for you. Got it?” She dabbed her eyes with her fingers. “I understand what you want to do, kiddo, I just don’t think you’re ready yet.”
“Sure. I’m okay with that.” Josh hugged her. “Thanks, J.D. You’re pretty cool.” He walked around the corner of the building. The slap of the screen door told her he’d gone back inside.
Jordan sighed and sagged against the building again. No. She wasn’t cool, hadn’t been for years, but she was okay with that as long as Tony considered her opinion. That’s all she wanted, for him to be open to other possibilities.
She didn’t need to be cool or Tony’s friend, she needed to help guide him, help him see that the entertainment industry sucked people in, chewed them up, and then spit them out.
It wasn’t the right choice for anyone.
She didn’t know yet how she’d get that message across to the kid, but she knew she had to try.
The quiet slush of the water made her forget the tightness in her chest. She hadn’t noticed when Josh had stopped playing or singing upstairs. She wasn’t under any delusions that her conversation with Tony had been quiet enough that Josh hadn’t overheard it. But she had nothing to hide. He knew how she felt about the entertainment business and she’d made it clear after their last encounter exactly what she thought about him. So her feelings shouldn’t come as any big surprise to the crazy rock celeb who’d burned up way too many of her brain cells since she’d met him.
When she stepped back inside the café, Stacey and Miranda from the grocery store had joined the crowd of women who were obviously loitering. You’d think they had jobs.
Or couldn’t all afford to be off at the same time. But, no. Here they were. En masse, sitting in the café waiting to see the famous, bad-boy rock star.
And who was sitting at the center of their little stage? Josh Nicodemus. Looking hot and sexy as hell, and as if he loved every moment of adoration being lavished on him by the women of Serenity.
The cabal, as she called the old men, came in as a collective group and sat at a table near Sidewinder. Jordan called the six old men the cabal because of their Serenity connections and heritage and the power they still wielded on the island and in the world at large.
Each man was a descendant of the founding fathers and mothers of Serenity. While the receding hairlines varied, the silvery white hair and age spots were a veritable patchwork testament of what Serenity sunshine and hard work could produce. Including Sidewinder, the cabal consisted of two professors, a state senator, a former Motown great, an actor of the golden age of eighties action films in Hollywood, a judge, and a minister. Talk about diametrically opposed opinions—if they existed in the world, these men owned them.
A group of younger men—who she’d dubbed the Serenity junior league—sat in a group near the front door. They weren’t much different than the cabal, except for their age—and that their primary topic of conversation was sports and women rather than history, religion, politics, and culture. Oh, and, yeah, they often settled their disputes over a game of basketball, instead of the raised voices, grumpy accusations, and the daily game of quarters the cabal used to settle their disputes.
One thing was consistent between the two groups. All the men ordered burgers and fries. And they gossiped worse than women.
Obviously, word had made its way through Serenity that Josh was in residence. The whole village had turned out to stroke Josh Nicodemus, and the big cat was sitting there soaking it all up and purring in satisfaction under their attention.
She didn’t buy it for a moment. From the bite she’d just gotten upstairs, she knew that cat had teeth and she had no doubt he’d do as much damage as any big predator given the opportunity to get his teeth into the good people of Serenity.
Well, they were big boys and girls.
They could take care of themselves.
She’d leave well enough alone. As long as she didn’t get eaten in the process.
The moment Josh saw Jordan, a pang of regret jabbed at him. Her eyes flashed with some unnamed emotion that could have been hurt, before she slammed on a mask—he’d say her performance mask. Her soft mouth drew into a wide smile and she slapped the guys on the back as she passed them.
“Hey, J.D.,” they chimed in chorus.
She waved. “I see you’ve all met our resident celebrity, Josh Nicodemus. He’s incognito. So make sure you give him the royal treatment, boys. But he’s working, too. So no showing up on his doorstep bugging him at all times of the day. He’s trying to produce an album.”
“Sure thing, J.D.” The men smiled at her. The women considered him. He knew what kind of royal treatment many of them would like to give him. And he wasn’t interested in anyone but the leggy blonde who drove him a little nuts.
The men, were a different story. Royal treatment from men always meant hazing of some sort. He saw their assessing looks, as they sized him up.
One guy with sun-streaked shoulder length hair, who looked like a surfer, wound his arm around Jordan’s waist and pulled her close to him. He wore cargo shorts, a tank showing off his muscles and natural tan, and flip-flops. Too much of his bare skin touched Jordan’s for Josh’s liking. The guy’s cheek rested on her abdomen as he hugged her to him, before she playfully pushed back.
Something hot and angry twisted in Josh’s gut.
“How were the waves today, Salty?” Jordan asked.
“Good, but I know what I’d rather be riding, J.D.” No one could ignore the suggestive tone in Salty’s voice when he responded.
Jordan swatted at him. “Stop that nonsense. What are you having?”
He waggled his brows. The guys laughed.
“—for lunch,” she finished, rolling her eyes.
A predatory feeling Josh wasn’t used to experiencing snaked through him as he watched the Salty guy’s hand wander to Jordan’s lower back and caress her ass before she smacked him and he dropped his hand good-naturedly.
Salty turned to Josh and he held his gaze.
A silent challenge.
Josh couldn’t claim Jordan, especially after the way he’d treated her earlier upstairs. But, hell, if he’d back down from this guy. He stared back, unsmiling.
All the men followed Jordan’s every move. Not just Salty. Her long toned legs glowed with a healthy tan. Her luscious ass filled those jean shorts to capacity. And the tight T-shirt that hugged her breasts and her narrow waist and flat tummy left none of her curves to the imagination. He understood the attraction. Every man here practically drooled over the woman.
He wanted this woman under him in the worst way.
And, apparently, so did Salty and every other red-blooded man in the joint. Sidewinder was the only one not following her every move. For good reason. But even the sightless man at the piano tracked Jordan’s movements through the room by the sound of her voice. The husky laugh. The friendly, chiding comments.
Jordan Drake twisted him sideways and inside out. Unlike any woman he’d ever come into contact with since—well, since ever. He was pathetic. Like a damned schoolboy.
He studied the men. But it appeared she had that effect on every man, because they all chased after her like dogs sniffing the enticing scent of a mate.
He wanted to fill her and keep her crying out in pleasure all day long. Panting for him. And, yet, somehow, after his latest stunt upstairs, he knew he’d probably ruined any chances he had of getting Jordan Drake to share his bed anytime soon.
He’d pulled the celeb card. There was no going back now. He knew what he was doing. But he didn’t need to like it.
Only he hadn’t known how much his need for her would rock him every time he saw her after she’d been so uninhibited, so over the edge with passion, and how much he wanted—no needed—to see her that way again.
Hell. It had been for her own good, right?
She shouldn’t get mixed up with him.
He wasn’t here for long.
Besides, Jordan Drake hated anyone involved in the entertainment industry. A relationship would never work for them. Not in a million years.
No, this would have to do. Watching her from afar and fraternizing with the locals. He could keep her out of his head and out of his bed. He needed to. Yet he understood he couldn’t hole away for two months straight. He’d die. Josh knew himself well enough to know that he needed people around him, drew energy from his interaction with them. So he couldn’t do without people totally.
However, he knew that one person in particular would be really, really bad for him. Jordan Drake. So he needed to keep her at arm’s length. Stay as far away as possible.
Too bad he was naturally drawn to her. He found her in the crowd of people, watched her move, and interact with the men and women who were her friends. This was her home.
Something shifted inside of him. This is what he wanted. He wanted a place to call home. A community of people who cared about him, about whether he came home at night, or how his last gig had really gone. Someone who took interest in him, not just the music machine he’d become.
Yeah. He could get used to this place—Serenity.
He liked it a lot. Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached, because then he’d never want to leave. And that would be bad for business. He was sure of it.
“There’s a personal delivery for you, Josh.” Someone shouted from outside. About ten minutes away.” A teenaged kid with curly blond hair poked his head inside the front door.
; “What?” Josh turned. “Oh, my production equipment for the studio.” He shrugged. “Good, I’ve been waiting for it.”
“Cool.” The kid slapped the doorframe and backed out.
“Should be FedEx,” Josh said.
He popped back in. “Nah. Some bigwig manager throwing around your name. Ben something. Aging rocker look. Tight jeans. Tighter T-shirt than I’ve seen on any woman. And a belt buckle that shouts Nicodemus.”
Yep. Ben. No one else had a belt buckle with the band name. He and the boys had it specially made for Ben.
“Shit.” Josh stood abruptly, the chair fell over. Every eye in the cafe turned toward him. It had to be his manager.
How’d Ben find him already?
“He’s been asking around, trying to figure out where you’re staying.” The kid smiled, a big mischievous grin. “No worries, though, no one knows anything about Nicodemus on this island. People come here all the time and mysteriously disappear. If you get my drift. Kind of like Jordan Drake.” He threw a saucy smile at Jordan.
“Hey, watch yourself,” Jordan said. “We don’t mention that name around here, even in jest. It’s J.D., plain and simple.”
“Sorry, J.D.” The young pup looked chastised.
“Nope. No one has seen Nicodemus. That’s a popular band, right? No band here,” Miranda piped up, shaking her head with wide innocent eyes. Then she smiled and winked at him.
Every Heart Sings (Serenity Island Series) Page 11
