The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  I remained silent, knowing well that there were no words to ease this kind of pain, but hoping maybe my presence beside her would let her know that she wasn’t alone. She continued staring out the window, and I knew she was remembering a little boy and not even registering the view. I had lost Jude when he had been around the same age as her son. I clutched the cross on my rosary for comfort, offering a silent prayer for both of them and for both of us. It suddenly didn’t feel awkward standing by her. I didn’t mark the passage of time. I was wandering through the worn corridors of my own memories when she eventually pulled in a ragged breath, squeezed my hand where it still rested on her shoulder and stepped away. My hand dropped to my side. I shifted to follow her, noticing that her pale cheeks were wet and that devastation blurred the silver surface of her red rimmed eyes. I knew those emotions well and pretended not to see her private pain as she swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  Clutching my sketchbook in her arm she moved behind her desk again. She closed her eyes tight for a moment while seeming to hug the drawing pad even tighter. When she reopened her eyes she was more composed. She set the pad gently on her desk, but I didn’t think she realized she was caressing the outline of her son with her fingers. “Thank you, Sager,” she whispered. “You captured Adam’s likeness perfectly. I cannot express how much it means to me to have this portrait of him. You have given me a gift beyond measure. I can see now that the amount we previously agreed upon is far too little. What could I ever offer for a gift of this magnitude? Name your price.”

  “Warren Jinkins,” I blurted suddenly remembering the conversation with the guys at Footit’s.

  “What?” she asked, blinking the lingering traces of the past away, her expression becoming the more familiar reserved one, the one I knew for certain she only employed to shield the sensitive heart of a grieving mother who had lost a precious child.

  “I’m sorry. You asked. It just came out. The band met last night with Justin. As I’m sure you know, he’s out. War wants to come back. We all want him back, but Morris won’t let him go. We just wondered if there might be something you could do to change his mind.”

  “Oh. I understand.” She lifted her chin reminding me of Melinda. Strikingly so. “No apology is necessary.” She was quiet for a long time. My heart pounded as I waited. “I’ll make a call,” she decided. “See if I can convince Mr. Morris to let me buy out Warren’s contract. Beyond that I can’t make any promises. I don’t really know that it will do any good. My interference might make things worse for Warren. But I’m certainly willing to try.” She sank into her chair as if the mere thought of calling the CEO of her rival suddenly drained away her strength. She lifted her gaze. “But I would ask one additional favor from you in return. I would appreciate you continuing to keep my secret. About Adam.” She visibly swallowed. “My son meant everything to me. He was my hope. I lost it after…after he was gone. The way you captured his spirit in your sketches allowed me to see that it was a mistake for me to try so hard to forget. He wouldn’t have liked that. He would have wanted me to remember. He would have wanted me to hope.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Melinda

  On the sidewalk outside the entrance to the Sutton Place Hotel, I wrapped my arms more tightly around myself and bounced my weight from one foot to the other trying to generate warmth. Tyler chatted amiably while signing a seemingly endless stream of hockey cards for the guy who had been waiting for him to show up after his game. How this hardcore sports collector had found out what hotel he was staying in while the decorators finished installing the new floors in his penthouse apartment I would never know.

  “Ty.” I reached out and tugged on his arm. “I’m cold.” I zipped my jacket up to my chin and pulled the hood over my head. Unfortunately I had left my tuque and gloves back at the studio.

  “Ok, babe,” he said, without sliding his green eyes my way. “We’ll go up in a minute.”

  “But my face is frozen,” I complained. “And my ears are so cold they hurt.” He had on a warm tuque that completely covered his wavy brown hair. “If you wanna stay out here, fine. You have a hat and a sweater underneath your coat. Give me the key card. I’ll wait for you in the room.”

  “I’ll keep you warm, Belle.” He threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side.

  “Sure but...” I trailed off. The protest I had been about to voice crystallized to ice that spread throughout my body. Not because of the ambient temperature but because of who I saw, someone who had been mine for a short time, someone I had been kidding myself to think I was ever going to fully get over.

  I stared at Sager as he exited the driver’s side of King’s Hummer. I hadn’t seen him since the party at the Mine, but my eyes had been too full of bitter tears then to savor the view. Watching him casually toss his keys to the valet, my stomach knotted up so tight it almost doubled me over.

  I had been telling myself that he hadn’t been all that I remembered. That the bond that I had formed to him really wasn’t that strong. That the connection I felt with him would fade over time. But those were all lies. Self-deceiving, self-preserving lies.

  Sager had stolen my breath the first time I had laid eyes on him. He captured and held it perfectly again. I wasn’t the only woman who had noted his arrival. Several stood transfixed just like me. I knew it wasn’t because they recognized him as the bassist for Tempest. It was mainly because he looked that good with a crisp white t-shirt clinging to his upper torso and jeans that were molded to his narrow hips and thighs. Tall and leanly muscular in all the right places, he had a chiseled form not from an obsession with weights but because he was balanced. Exercise, food, water, they all served their purpose. But art and music were his life.

  Shoulders squared, sleeves rolled up, tats of his own design on brilliant display, he looked as confident as he did up on stage, and he was every bit as mesmerizing. He sported that take me as I am or leave me the hell alone Southside attitude that all of the guys in Tempest wore like a badass leather jacket on a hardcore biker. But he was different. He wasn’t flashy like Bryan. He wasn’t out to nail every chick that batted her eyes at him like King or like Dizzy had been before April. Nor was he a silver ring on every finger, in your face confrontational type like Warren. He was rough enough around the edges to give you that certain thrill, but he was more than that. He was the quiet kind, the still waters run deep kind, the kind you paid attention to whenever they spoke because when they did they usually had something important to say.

  A sudden burst of wind gusted in from the direction of the waterfront, tossing my ponytail forward over my shoulder. It lifted his thick bangs off of his thoughtful brow the way I had once done with my fingers. I remembered how soft the strands had been, only his hair was lighter now, a rich golden brown with sun kissed highlights interspersed with darker strands, a remnant from when it had been a solid inky hue the month before.

  My heart thudded with longing I couldn’t afford. The world seemed to switch to slow motion as if dragged down by the anchor of all of the things I couldn’t forget about him. The recognition in his eyes that first time even though we had only just met. How he had danced with me that night. How warm his hands had felt low on my hips. How possessive.

  Right now his eyes seemed as black as midnight as he glanced at some message that must have popped up on his phone, but I knew they were really a deep espresso that contained tantalizing treasure troves of gold up close. I followed the line of his strong nose down to his full lips, ones that were firm when they should be firm and soft when they needed to be. I swallowed to moisten my dry throat remembering when he had skimmed them over my body, learning and exploring every single curve with the focused attention of an artist. I suddenly wasn’t a bit cold anymore. A rush of heat flushed my cheeks as I recalled the confident seduction of each touch. The languid toe curling kisses. The tenderness of the way he had been with me in the beginning, then the explosive passion that had followed.


  Mired in my reverie, I didn’t realize that the wind had changed direction sending his hair spiraling into his eyes. He raked it back with his long talented fingers and turned in my direction as if had heard someone calling his name. Had I spoken his name out loud? He stared, and I stared back, completely and pathetically transfixed.

  I didn’t receive a smoldering head to toe scan or a slow sexy smile like I had the first time we had been introduced. This time his eyes narrowed, dousing me in a splash of ice water rather than consuming me in flash of fire. The motion of the moment fast forwarded, memories careening through my mind at an unnavigable out of control speed like a freefall down the side of a mountain. Feeling disoriented, I turned away from him snapping the connection I had only imagined remained between us. Seeing him again so soon after the painstaking process of reordering my life without him nearly had me coming unraveled. It had been more than just amazing sex. There had been tenderness and empathy which were even more tempting. What would I give to have him back in my bed gazing at me in that way that made me feel whole? I lifted my hand to my face, stroking my cheek with my thumb imagining I could still feel the scrape of his stubble, remembering the moment when he had pressed his masculine cheek to mine and breathed my name in a post coital rumble as if what had happened between us had actually been lovemaking.

  I squeezed my eyes tightly shut barricading the memory behind the wall again and ducking my head into Tyler’s chest. My inner voice hissed loudly at me for being a fool for ever hooking up with a guy like Sager Reed in the first place. Sure, he was no saint. A guy didn’t become an expert dancer between the sheets by abstinence, but the danger for me wasn’t only his skill in the bedroom. It was his sweetness and sensitivity. That part of him that made a girl feel like she was special, that he might forsake all of the others just for her. But I knew better. Rock star matchups inevitably ended up like they had with my mom and dad. For girls like me guys like him were a sugary treat, a onetime indulgence, or in my specific circumstance an attempt to make Dizzy Lowell jealous that had gone horribly wrong. Love was a myth. Love didn’t heal. It broke you into pieces.

  “Ty.” I was out of breath my heart hammering like it did when I was in the starting gates waiting for a race to begin. “Can we please go inside now?” Panicking, I slid my hand to the center of his chest to get his attention and lifted my eyes, not above pleading at this point.

  “Sure, baby.” He pressed a quick kiss to my lips then slapped a handshake with the autograph hound. “Sorry about that,” he told me afterward steering me away his hand gliding along the skin of my back underneath my jacket. His fingers were warm. “Shit, baby. I can feel you’re as cold as ice. I’ll send you inside next time. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want the guy to think I was being rude.”

  I nodded. I understood. This wasn’t the first time I had waited for him. We pretty much had the drill down, including the fact that no pictures were allowed. He had gotten pretty irritated the one time a few photos of us had been taken and leaked to the press. I hadn’t really minded. I thought that his protectiveness of our privacy was quaint.

  My gaze trained straight ahead on the glass doors that led into the building, I tried to settle myself. I felt beaten up already just from the way he had looked at me. But I knew his words could hurt me worse. No matter what lies I told myself, his opinion meant something. I had to force my steps to slow to match Tyler’s sedate pace as he ushered us past the uniformed doorman, but I bristled inside the entire time wishing he would walk faster.

  Once inside the elegant lobby of the Sutton hotel, which included a whole tower of long term residential apartments like Tyler’s, I let out a breath. My body began to thaw in the climate controlled air. Trying to relax, I pulled in a deep breath, filling my nose with the sweet fragrance of the fresh cut flowers decorating the lobby as Tyler guided us through the gauntlet of them. We hadn’t taken more than a few steps when a whoosh of outside air pursued us, along with a familiar palette of scents: leather from the cuff bracelet I had given him as a gift, cardamom from the incense candles he lit while drawing and the wood of his charcoal pencils.

  “Melinda T. Belle.” My spine stiffened at the sound of his voice accompanied by decisive footfalls.

  Tyler stopped. I willed him to keep going. Hand still on my back, he slowly. “Do you know this guy?” he asked me.

  I nodded though I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking at Sager, struck silent by the view of him in all of his glory, his angry as shit glory given his thundercloud expression. Why was he still angry at me? It had to be on April’s behalf because the two of us were through. He had delivered his ultimatum. I had rejected it. We had both moved on. If I’d been nurturing any lingering hopes for us, seeing him with the leggy blonde at April’s party had effectively extinguished them.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Tyler said pointedly, his narrowing eyes sizing up a potential rival.

  “Sager Reed.” He dipped his gaze to where Tyler’s hand rested on my back, his scowl darkening before he offered his hand. Tyler took it, introducing himself.

  “Yeah, I thought you looked familiar. Good game tonight. Ridiculous save on the penalty kill.” Sager was playing nice for whatever reason, but the gaze drilling into mine seemed to be challenging me to say something. I stubbornly refused sensing that whatever I said might be used against me.

  “Thanks. How do you know my girlfriend?” Tyler asked. “I don’t recall Bluebelle ever mentioning you.” Definite emphasis on the relational identifier. Guy stuff. Drawing lines in the sand, establishing boundaries.

  “Really?” Sager parried. “That’s odd. I thought I left more of an impression on her than that.” A shot fired across the bow by the ex-lover to the current one with a charged innuendo. “Surely, you haven’t forgotten me so soon, Blue?”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” I lifted my chin trying to stay afloat but sinking fast, drowning in the emotionally charged depths of his glittering gaze.

  “Yeah, I figured not. Me, neither. Hot as shit sex like that, I guess maybe it’s just that you’ve been trying to forget since you’ve obviously…” He paused for effect, moving his gaze to Tyler, “settled.”

  “You arrogant ass,” I sputtered.

  “It’s ok, Bluebelle,” Tyler growled, releasing me, stepping forward into Sager’s space and puffing out his chest. They were the same height, though my goalie was at least twenty pounds heavier. “Don’t know what dream realm you’re living in, but that was then, and it’s only me with Melinda now. So if you’ll pardon us, she and I will be heading up to our room.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Sager

  I slammed open the door to the two-bedroom rental King and I shared on the residential side of Sutton Place and marched directly toward my room. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I cautioned King as he popped out of the kitchen pass through with a Tecate beer in his hand and a what-the-fuck look on his face. Yeah so maybe I had rattled the walls a bit with my entrance. I turned right at the end of the narrow hall and then left to enter my room. I was about to give the bedroom door the same treatment but King caught it.

  “Hermano?” He raised a brow. I ignored him going straight to the dresser. I grabbed my reading glasses and a new pack of drawing pencils. Tearing it open, I snagged an almost filled sketch pad, put on my glasses and flopped down on the bed with my boots still on. “Black Cat is paying for this rental. We had to put down a big damage deposit,” he chided. “I sure as hell wanna get mine back. What the fuck’s going on? I haven’t seen you like this since…” His eyes narrowed. “Shit. I thought this was about your meeting with Mary Timmons. It’s not though, is it? It’s her. The puta. What did she do this time?”

  “What part of I don’t want to talk about it did you not understand?” I squeezed my eyes shut, my grip on the pencil so tight that it snapped in half. I tossed the broken pieces aside and reached for another one. Undeterred, King came further into the small room. “Seriously, man, don’t alright,” I warn
ed peering at him over the rim of my glasses. Over the past month I already had heard all I wanted to concerning his opinion of Melinda.

  “Just tell me that you’re not hooking up with her again. That bitch is toxic.”

  “You don’t know her like I do.”

  “Yeah? What is it that I’m missing?” He counted on his fingers. “She’s immature. Self-centered. She used you. And she almost got her best friend, and her family killed.” He had one finger left. The middle one. “Fuck her and the unfortunate set of circumstances that led to you getting mixed up with her.”

  I dropped my head and stared at the blank page until my eyes started to burn. “I hear you.” I started moving my pencil, fast, agitated sweeping strokes filling up the page with seemingly random lines of static that made no sense yet. But I knew from experience they would coalesce as my thoughts settled. If I could maintain my focus on the paper. If I could harness my anger and transform it. But that was hard to do. All I could really think about was ripping that fucking jock’s arms off for touching the one who should belong to me.

  “Bueno. I’ll leave you to it then.” He knocked a random pattern onto the wood top of the dresser with his hand. “I’m heading out. You want me to grab you a beer before I go?”

  “No.” I shook my head absently. I was too absorbed with the sketch to look up. Using the tips of my fingers, I smudged a few lines already seeing the arch of her dark brows and the impertinent tilt of her nose taking shape. Waves of ebony quickly followed. The Cupid’s bow of her top lip, the plushness of the bottom one. Her mouth that was totally and addictively kissable. Those were the features that I could easily capture. I could do them blindfolded. But those sapphire eyes, those wide expressive thickly lashed pools of deep blue. I would be awake until dawn trying to get them right. A good half of my newest sketch pad was dedicated to my attempts. The rest was homage to her sexy body. Tits that had overflowed my hands. Hips and ass that were made to take it nice and slow or hard and rough. Ripe curves that would make any man yearn. But it was her eyes that had been my downfall. In them I saw things that resonated. Compassion. Empathy. Insecurity. Vulnerability. Desperation. Need.