by Karina Bliss
“I’m not sorry for teaching him manners,” she said, “but I am sorry if this has created a problem for you.”
“It’ll be interesting to see if I’m important enough again to avoid any fallout.” Zander looked at her. “I have to say I’m hurt that you’d flirt with that douche bag and not with me.”
“I gave him no encouragement whatsoever!”
“You just can’t help being fatally attractive, can you?”
“It’s a curse.” Her temper subsided, she managed a rueful smile. “I’m giving up being a sex object. We’re interchangeable, which is working havoc on my self-esteem.”
He laughed. “Doc, you’re the most together woman I know.”
“Yes,” she said distractedly, “but you’ve led a sheltered life.” Following her gaze, Zander saw Kayla at the buffet table, gloomily eating shrimp and watching women swarm her husband.
Jared beckoned her to join them and Kayla shook her head and mouthed, “It’s okay.” Woman-speak for “come find out what’s wrong.” With an exasperated shrug, Jared returned to his conversation. Kayla reloaded her plate with shrimp.
“Ouch.” Elizabeth articulated Zander’s feelings. “What’s happening with those two?”
“Jared used to be happy following Kayla’s lead.” He recalled the bassist’s shyness through auditions. “She was the organizer, he was the dreamer. Suddenly the world’s telling him he’s Indiana Jones and he’s taking that attitude back to his marriage.”
“He’s changing the rules,” Elizabeth said.
“He won’t succeed. People can talk equality all they want, but generally someone runs the marriage and from what I’ve seen that’s Kayla.
“I disagree. In good marriages—like my parents’—power is a constantly changing dynamic depending on who has the skills, interest or aptitude in a particular area.”
“Don’t forget personality quirks,” said Zander, amused by her pragmatism. Not for this woman, “love conquers all.” “That’s what Mom called them.”
“Explain.”
“Dad had this thing about paying whenever they were out and my feminist Mom didn’t protest because it was important to him.”
“Oh yes,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “My parents had stuff like that too. And if something mattered equally to both of them, they’d find a compromise.”
“Like which country to live in,” said Zander. “My folks lived in New Zealand while Dev and I were young and moved to the States for school.”
Building a good marriage had always seemed like damn hard work, which was why he’d never bothered to venture, machete in hand, down that happy trail. But suddenly he could see the negotiations could be interesting with the right person.
“So returning to your Indiana Jones analogy,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully. “Jared’s Ark quest is distinguishing fool’s gold from real gold.”
For some reason that hit a nerve. “What are you talking about; he’s hit the mother lode.”
“Already discovered by you,” she pointed out, “alongside the original members of Rage. Isn’t that why you brought in young talent? To adopt a mentor role and evolve the band?”
Zander squirmed. “I’m not Yoda… Kayla looks about to cry.”
As he’d intended, Elizabeth left immediately on missionary work.
Zander watched the younger woman brighten as she caught sight of her rescuer and his spike of irritation subsided. As annoying as Elizabeth’s questions could be, he couldn’t regret hiring her.
Dimity joined him. “You like her.”
“Everybody likes her.” He straightened as he watched Doc administer an encouraging hug. She’d told him her attraction was nothing personal. He was an idiot. Everything with Elizabeth was personal.
“I mean you really like her.”
Irritated, he glanced down at his grinning PA. “What are we, twelve?”
He caught a promoter waving across the room and mustering a grin, headed over. Okay, maybe a little tenderness sneaked in through the flight when Doc had dropped her metaphorical scalpel and snuggled into his shoulder, all cute and trusting.
There was an antidote for schmaltz. Raw sex.
* * *
“For a cynic, you’ve written some incredible love songs.” Two days later, Elizabeth poured herself tea from an earthenware teapot and returned to sit beside Zander.
It was siesta hour on a beltingly hot Madrid afternoon and a rest day for the band. Even the kids had called time-out on the pool and surrendered to a nap; a lull hung over the hotel. His suite was cool and dim, crisply pleasant with air-conditioning and shutters filtering out the sun.
It had been a good session so far, the languor affecting even Zander. He lounged on the couch in an open-necked, loose cotton shirt, loose black pants, his bare feet crossed at the ankles on the coffee table. All tanned and golden and reflective. To a point.
“Devin wrote most of the lyrics.”
“And yet you sing them with such heart. Did your parents have a good marriage?”
He shifted. “Why the hell would you ask that?”
“Humor me.”
“Yeah, they had a great marriage. And when Dad died, Mom took years to get over it.”
“So what, don’t get close?”
“Hedge your bets.”
Smiling, Elizabeth shook her head.
“Like you do.” His posture might be lazy, his gaze was not. “That’s really why you turned me down the other night, isn’t it?”
She sipped her tea, giving herself a moment to reply. “In my experience, people fall into three types. Those who consider consequences, those who won’t and those who can’t—usually the under-fives.”
“I’m a won’t,” he said blithely.
Impossible to maintain a buffer zone with a man who didn’t recognize boundaries, so she didn’t try. Sooner or later they had to have this conversation. “One of us has to be sensible.”
Zander snorted.
“Don’t knock the well-behaved,” she said. “We’re the backbone of society, mostly doing the right thing because somebody has to. We don’t create drama because we’ve done the hard yards cleaning up after those who do. Maybe we’re not the color, but we’re the weft and the weave, the cloth that holds families and communities together. Being normal isn’t humanity’s glory job, but it is important.”
“You think you’re normal?”
“Yes,” she said firmly.
“Here’s a fun game.” He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “I’ll take your point of view, you take mine. We’ll argue each other’s position.”
She looked at him warily.
“I’ll go first. We shouldn’t sleep together because it might complicate our working relationship. I’m a guy who, given an inch will take two miles and it’s tough enough making sneaky incursions into my privacy without simultaneously having to defend yours. You have rules in your sexual relationships and I’m not good with rules.”
Elizabeth was impressed. “Yes.”
“Now argue my corner. It’s a great idea because…”
Impressed, but not ready to play. “I have a vagina?”
Dropping his arms, Zander said patiently, “I’ll start you off. We’re both single and we’re friends.”
“We’re not friends. I’m your biographer.”
“Quit splitting hairs. We like each other. And there’s no Hippocratic oath for biographers.”
“What about the space-time continuum, and my impartial observer status?”
“The status you violated the day you offered Stormy a lift home?” he said dryly.
Elizabeth moved quickly on. “You want me because I’ve said no and that makes me a challenge.”
“As astonishing as it is to believe, I have been rejected and accepted it gracefully.”
“Then why not let this go?”
“You’re arguing my corner, you tell me.”
They needed to return to their interview, so Elizabeth reined in her impatience
. “You have a to-do list of sexual conquests and you haven’t ticked off nerdy redhead. Maybe you’ve always been curious about small breasts or freckles or…” She stopped, sipped her tea and put the cup down on the coffee table. “Huh, I didn’t think I had those insecurities.”
“Me neither,” Zander said. “Let me help you with your self-esteem.”
Smiling would only encourage him. “Okay, I’m stumped. I can’t conjure a single rational argument to make on your behalf.”
“Because this isn’t about logic, it’s about chemistry. I want you because of this.” Leaning closer, he brushed his fingers up her arm and she shivered. “Because you set up a hum in my blood like a tune I keep trying to catch. I want to know how you taste, how you feel against me naked, whether your skin smells of cinnamon and vanilla everywhere. I want to hear the sounds you make when you’re having good sex.”
Shocked by the desire his words aroused, Elizabeth moved to the other end of the couch. “I have instincts too. Survival instincts,” she said bluntly. “And they tell me to run when you talk this way.”
“How do you differentiate between survival instinct and cowardice?”
“Plenty of time to work that out in the safety of the bunker.”
“Okay, let’s factor in your aversion to risk and start with something easy. Kiss me. Once.”
Her pulse jumped. “What? No.”
“You don’t need to deliberate in the bunker.” Zander sat back. “It’s definitely cowardice.”
“You would say that, you’re reckless,” she countered. Her tea would be getting cold. She picked it up. “Really, I’m protecting both of us here.”
Zander yawned.
She clattered her cup into the saucer. “We’ll work now.”
“Good point, you should be rationalizing on your own time.”
Through gritted teeth she said, “You can tip into obnoxious very quickly, you know that, Zander?”
“It’s a failing,” he admitted. “I really should find more diplomatic ways to call people on their bullshit.”
“Or maybe we could all change,” she said sweetly, checking the recorder, “and become more like you.”
“Even better,” he approved. “And disliking me is a perfect time to try the kiss, just saying. After the show when you’re all sexed up would be plain unfair, this way it’s a controlled environment, your favorite kind.”
Elizabeth started the recorder. “So adopting your approach, let me call you on your bullshit. You’re holding out on me with this memoir.”
“I’m an open book,” he protested.
“With pages ripped out. You have this tell-all reputation, but on certain subjects you’re as close as a clam. You told me Stormy broke off your relationship; that wasn’t true… I understand that you’re making some kind of redress—she earns the honor of being the only woman who’s ever dumped you—but it also paints you in a more positive light, doesn’t it?”
His jaw set. “The victim’s not a role I ever intend to play.”
Elizabeth checked the device was recording. “I believe you. But I also suspect you’re leaving out important chapters in your life because they reflect badly on you. Except for the band’s breakup, you haven’t addressed any of the negative rumors that have circulated over recent years, and I only got that because you were rattled after running into Travis.”
Zander uncrossed his bare feet and recrossed them. “Doc, I’m not sensing your usual detachment.”
“There are important pieces missing from your personal history,” Elizabeth continued remorselessly. “Why did you and Devin wait so many years to reveal he was cowriter of your early songs? Is it true he vetoed the use of ‘Sweet Daze’ as the soundtrack to a liquor company’s advertising to stop you prostituting Rage’s legacy? You’re close to your mother and yet there’s a two-year period during which you didn’t visit her. Why is that?”
“I’ll trade you.” The lazy humor had disappeared from his eyes, replaced by a piercing challenge. “One kiss in exchange for an answer to one of those questions.”
She stared at him. “The world is lucky you dropped out of high school before you learned how to properly harness all that Machiavellian cunning.”
“Yeah, I might have made something of myself.”
“Shut up,” she said crossly. “I’m not responding to blackmail!”
“You see blackmail, I see double dare. Why do I have to be brave when you’re allowed to cower in the bunker?”
“The two issues are completely different.”
“Are they?” he said. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” When she hesitated, he added sharply, “If you have to think about it, the sin’s venal. Make some mistakes you can’t ever take back. And then I’ll let you preach to me about honesty.”
He stood as he spoke and she thought he was going to walk out; instead he poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher next to the earthenware teapot. With his back to her, he said, “Since my father died, I have trouble with hospitals. No, that’s not true, I have trouble with life-threatening illnesses.
“When my mother developed a heart condition and needed surgery I didn’t visit. In fact, through her whole health scare, I found excuses not to go to New Zealand. It was the same when Dev collapsed onstage. I couldn’t go with him to the emergency room.”
He returned to his seat, not looking at her. “I’m not proud of it.”
She swallowed. “What if the worst had happened and you hadn’t said good-bye?”
Briefly, his eyes met hers, winter-bleak. “I would never have forgiven myself.”
She reached out to offer comfort, then remembered this was an interview and dropped her hand in confusion. “Thank you for your candor. You’re right, that did take courage.”
Zander was frowning into his glass. “I’ve been seeing a bereavement counselor for the past year, hoping to get over it. In the meantime, Mom’s promised not to fall seriously ill.” He lifted his head and smiled with an effort. “She said if necessary she’ll drop dead, which is very considerate of her. Then she ruined the moment by saying she hoped it would be during sex with her new husband.”
Elizabeth laughed because he needed her to. “It’s easy to see who your irreverent sense of humor comes from.”
“Yep, she’s a character.” Zander drained the water and dumped the glass on the coffee table. “Use it in the memoir,” he said briskly. “I don’t want anybody thinking I don’t love my family.” He retrieved his cell and switched it on. “Okay if we pick this up later? I should return some calls.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth got as far as the door before she turned. “One kiss,” she said.
The terrible shadows left Zander’s eyes. He smiled.
“One,” she repeated.
“Sure,” he said easily.
“And I’m in charge.” The closer Elizabeth got, the more she babbled. “I can touch you but you can’t touch me.”
“Jeez, Doc, just give into the dom fantasy and tie me—”
She kissed him to shut him up, closing her eyes and cautiously moving her mouth against his. The bastard was still smiling. Annoyed, Elizabeth increased the pressure.
His lips were softer than she’d imagined, the slight rasp of surrounding stubble a nice contrast as she caught his jaw and tilted her head to find the best fit…there, yes. A first kiss was about gentle exploration, not shoving your tongue down someone’s throat, so she was surprised to find they’d progressed to open-mouthed without her conscious awareness.
She was just thinking “this is nice” with a mix of relief and disappointment when his tongue touched hers and she fell into the erotically charged heat of the kiss like Alice down the rabbit hole. Dazed, she grabbed Zander’s shoulders for support, her fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders, as the world fell away. Even as she thought, harder, deeper, faster, Elizabeth pushed away.
For a long moment they stared at each other and the only reason she didn’t slap his face w
as because he looked as stunned as she felt.
Zander cleared his throat. “You’re right, there are too many complications.”
Relief weakened her knees. “Let’s not ruin a friendship.”
“Nothing wrong with bunkers.”
She gestured toward the door. “I’ll leave you in peace.”
“Yeah, lots of work.”
They realized at the same time that they were shaking hands. She thought for a moment Zander wouldn’t release her grip and then he stepped back.
Elizabeth couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
* * *
Two weeks later, Zander looked at his PA, absently massaging her shoulder as they discussed the day’s commitments.
“There’s an hour free between three and four.” Dimity covered her mouth to smother a yawn, staring at her hand-held organizer. “Want me to keep it that way or schedule more promo?”
“Keep it free.” It was one in the morning and he was pacing his room, wired from another successful performance—Rage’s thirteenth. Neither of them saw anything odd about working all hours because when you loved what you did, it wasn’t a job. It was a calling. Still… “When is your birthday?”
She glanced up, surprised. “What?”
“Your birthday. When is it?” Dimity was integral to his life, they talked or texted multiple times a day and, Zander realized with a stab of guilt, he knew nada about her personal life.
“June twenty-fifth. Why?”
Last month. “What did I get you?” She bought all the presents for his permanent staff.
Diamonds sparkled as she held up her wrist. “This tennis bracelet, thanks.”
“Are you…happy in your work?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Zee, are you high?”
“No! Jeez, I’m just making conversation.” He tried another tack. “You know I consider you family.”
Dimity wasn’t impressed. “Do I kiss your ring now, Godfather?”
Zander stretched out a bedecked hand. “Take your pick.”
Rolling her eyes at him, she returned to her scheduling. “Incidentally, today’s the final deadline for a decision on those second shows.”
