“How about Jennifer Lawrence, then?” she asked, lifting her phone to display a picture of Dawn with the beautiful starlet. “Are you two close?”
Dawn patted Lindsey on the shoulder. “You’re barking up the wrong socialite tree, hon. It’s really not my scene.”
“But it could be if you wanted it to be,” Lindsey said, reaching over to squeeze Dawn’s hand. “Come on. Let me go with you to just one Hollywood party. I’ll love you forever.”
“I get flustered in the company of stars,” Dawn said. “I don’t belong among them.”
“Sara, quit pestering her,” Kellen said with a weary sigh. “Dawn is not going to introduce you to the rich and famous.”
Dawn’s head whipped around, her eyes wide as she gawked at him. He supposed she didn’t appreciate him fighting her battles.
“My name is Lindsey,” Lindsey said, covering her chest with one hand. “Jeez,” she said under her breath, climbing to her feet. “At least Owen remembers my name.”
Kellen stared after Lindsey as she headed toward Owen to bug the shit out of him some more.
“You called her Sara,” Dawn whispered.
“I did?”
Dawn nodded, and Kellen’s stomach twisted into a sick knot. Lindsey did look like Sara, but they weren’t much alike in personality. How could he have made such a mistake?
“I think I need a drink,” he said, even though alcohol had never been his go-to crutch.
“It’s a little early for that, even in New Orleans,” Dawn said. She shifted off his lap and took his hand, urging him to stand. “I’m sure there’s something we can do to keep your mind off your worries.”
Her voice had taken on a sultry timbre that claimed his full attention, and the suggestion in her eyes made his cock stir with interest. Oh yes, he was sure they could find something to occupy his mind, his hands, and especially his stupid mouth. And if Lindsey was out of sight, surely Sara would be out of mind.
Chapter Two
Dawn craned her neck to peer out the side window of the tour bus. As they passed familiar sights of New Orleans, she was struck with nostalgia. If her career path had gone the way she’d originally intended, she would have become a jazz pianist instead of a classical one. For that reason alone, New Orleans was one of her favorite cities. Right after she’d graduated and her ex had gone to China to find himself—without her, thank God—she’d spent a year in NOLA trying to make it as a jazz performer. A fun year, but ultimately, just as Daddy had predicted, a failure.
When the bus pulled to a halt behind the venue where the band would play that night, Kellen couldn’t get off fast enough. Maybe it was because she’d suggested they could get intimate, but more than likely it was because Lindsey was near. He took Dawn by the wrist and they were halfway to the backstage entrance when she realized she’d left her bag behind.
“Forgot my purse,” she said, drawing to a halt so abruptly that Kellen stumbled.
“I thought you wanted to take my mind off my worries,” he said.
“I do. But if I don’t get my purse, I’ll be the one with my mind riddled with worries.” She already had that familiar panicky feeling she got whenever her purse wasn’t within reach. She’d never understand the trend of carrying nothing but a cellphone.
“I’ll grab it for you,” he said, brushing a kiss against her cheek before dashing toward the bus.
He nearly tripped over his feet when Lindsey emerged from the stairwell. She smiled brightly at him, and he wrapped a hand around his silver wristwatch before diverting his gaze to the ground. Dawn knew that Lindsey reminded him of Sara, but Dawn wouldn’t have ever guessed that Kellen could be so blatantly rude to anyone. Was there some deeper reason he couldn’t stand the woman? She vowed to get him talking about what was really bothering him. She already knew him well enough to realize that he kept his emotions tightly bottled and that he fixated on certain issues, especially if they pertained to his Sara. Dawn sighed, wondering if he’d ever let himself be free of his first love.
Owen hopped off the bus after Lindsey, and Kellen at least smiled at his supposed best friend before hurrying up the now-empty bus steps. The way Kellen had talked of Owen with admiration and obvious affection had made Dawn believe the two were close, but they sure didn’t act close. In fact, Kellen had barely spoken to Owen all morning.
Owen watched Kellen disappear inside the bus, and Dawn recognized the hurt in his expression even from a distance. So she wasn’t the only one confused by Kellen’s behavior.
Dawn approached the sweet-faced bassist. “Do you think Kelly is acting a little off?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, sparing her a glance laced with surprising dislike. “Ever since you showed up.”
He turned without another word and hurried toward the building with Lindsey waddling after him.
Was it possible that Owen was jealous of Dawn? She wasn’t sure she’d ever figure out the dynamics of this little group of men. Especially not the one between Kellen and Owen.
Kellen returned with her purse and nodded at her thank-you, but his gaze was on Owen’s retreating back. He didn’t turn his attention to her until Owen had entered the back of the arena and disappeared from sight.
“I thought you and Owen were best friends,” Dawn said, as always, unable to keep her curiosity in check or her mouth shut.
“We are.”
She shrugged. “You sure don’t act like it. I don’t think you’ve said more than two words to each other all day.”
“Well, you’re here,” Kellen said, taking her hand and coaxing her to follow him toward the door Owen had just entered.
“Can you only talk to one person at a time?”
He grinned, and if she wasn’t mistaken, a blush reddened the bronzed skin across his high cheekbones. “Uh, yeah, pretty much,” he murmured.
“I wouldn’t want to come between you and Owen,” she said, though being the center of this man’s attention was a rather heady experience. Everything about the man had her out of her head. Especially all that exposed taut skin on his arms, back, chest and abdomen and the delicious tattoos that decorated it all.
“He’s got bigger problems to worry about at the moment,” Kellen said.
Lindsey, she presumed. “Has Lindsey been following the tour for long?” She’d had tons of questions about the young woman since they’d boarded the bus in Beaumont, but they’d been in tight quarters so there’d been no way to ask without being rude.
“Since Houston. But I didn’t ride with the guys that night. I went to Galveston instead and caught up with them in Beaumont for last night’s show.” He opened the door for her, but before she could enter, he drew her aside instead.
“That was a great show,” she said. “I really enjoyed myself, and you have amazing fans.”
“When I first saw Lindsey come down the bus steps in Beaumont, I literally thought she was Sara.”
Dawn blinked at him. “Why would you think that? Didn’t she pass away years ago?” Yet imagining he’d actually seen Sara would explain why he’d called Lindsey by the wrong name earlier.
“She did, so imagine my surprise when she turns up on the tour bus looking alive and healthy and pregnant.”
“So that’s what’s been bothering you this entire trip. Not me. Not Owen or some natural on-the-road moodiness, but because Lindsey reminds you of Sara.”
“Right before Sara passed away, she told me she’d haunt me if I didn’t find someone to love. I must admit I’m feeling thoroughly haunted at the moment.”
Dawn grinned at him. “That’s an easy problem to solve. Just fall in love with me and she’ll leave you in peace.”
When he gawked at her, she hoped he didn’t take her jest seriously. She held in a relieved sigh when he replaced his open-mouthed stare with an easy smile, looped an arm around her back, and opened the door again. “Well, that shouldn’t be too challenging.”
He said that, but the second they entered the building, to find the ghost of
Sara standing just outside the dressing room door, he stopped short. He wasn’t merely saying that Lindsey’s presence bothered him; it was quite obvious that he struggled every time he saw her. Dawn wasn’t sure if she should be relieved that his problem wasn’t with her or perturbed that Sara still had such a hold on him. She’d wrongly assumed that when he’d made love to her, the shackles linking him to Sara had shattered.
“I’m hungry,” Dawn said, trying to come up with an excuse to leave the premises, because this freaking-out-over-Lindsey version of Kellen wasn’t very fun to be around.
“I’m sure there are sandwiches and snacks in the dressing room.”
“Do you need to wait around here for sound check or a meet and greet or some other rock star shenanigans?”
“I won’t be needed for any shenanigans until later this evening,” he said with a soft laugh.
“Would you think me high maintenance if I insist on you taking me to one of my favorite restaurants for lunch?”
“I might. How five-star is the place?”
“Baby,” she said, speaking in a faux haughty tone, “McDonald’s is five-star when you’re with me.”
He laughed. “I believe that.” He yelled at some member of the road crew, “We’ll be back before sound check!”
Soon they were on their way to New Orleans’s French Quarter by cab, and the farther they journeyed from the venue, the looser Kellen held his body, until they were practically snuggling in the back seat. Here was the guy she’d chased after. Here was the guy who made her body burn and her thoughts scatter. Here was the guy who didn’t mind when she traced the contours of his muscular chest with one very happy finger. She’d been worried that she’d invented him, making him into something he wasn’t.
“Maybe we should have asked Owen to join us,” Dawn said. “I’d like to get to know him better.”
“And he’d probably like a break from Lindsey as much as I needed one.”
“I feel bad for her. It’s like she has extrastrength cooties. It’s not her fault she looks like Sara.”
“She wouldn’t have been invited on the bus that night if she hadn’t looked like Sara. Owen always seems to think he could help me move on by trying to hook me up with women who resemble her.”
Kellen might be haunted by Sara’s ghost, but Dawn was left shivering in the darkness of her shadow. Dawn was suddenly grateful that she looked nothing like his first love. “Twisted.”
He grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to give her a squeeze. “I tried to warn you, but you didn’t run when you had the chance.”
“Still not running,” she whispered, lost in his heated gaze. The man wore his virility like a fine suit. She was suddenly thinking less of lunch and more about his devastatingly skilled mouth between her legs. She settled for a thought-stealing kiss instead, her fingers curling into the bare skin of his back.
When the cab drew to a halt in front of the restaurant she’d chosen, she had half a mind to tell the driver to circle the block until she’d had her fill of kissing Kellen, but they’d probably run out of gas before that happened.
When they stood on the sidewalk surrounded by the lunch crowd, she realized they wouldn’t be seated with Kellen being shirtless. She’d become so accustomed to him walking around half naked that it hadn’t occurred to her until she noticed all the female eyes glued to her companion’s hard-muscled chest and gorgeous tattoos.
“Um,” she said. “You need a shirt to get lunch.”
“Not if we grab something from that street vendor,” he said, his gaze focused on a food truck parked in a lot almost a block away.
“Good plan,” she said with a laugh. She didn’t want him covered up any more than he wanted to be.
“You seem familiar with the city,” he said. “You didn’t even have to ask for a restaurant recommendation.”
She flushed, diverting her gaze and taking his hand as they headed toward the food truck.
“Have you spent a lot of time here in the past?”
She didn’t like to talk about her failures and while she wouldn’t want to forget the fun-yet-financially-strained year, she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him about it. And then her gums started flapping on their own accord.
“I lived here for a year. Right after I graduated from Curtis.”
“You went to Curtis? Isn’t that some fancy music school like Julliard?”
“Curtis is way better than Julliard.” She grinned and leaned into his arm, squeezing his hand. “But I might be a tad partial toward my alma mater.”
“Does New Orleans have a good symphony?” His brow furrowed. “Did you play with one while you lived here?”
“A symphony is a piece of music. An orchestra would be what my kind of band is called.” She winked at him.
He laughed and slapped his forehead. “Okay, I obviously have no clue what I’m talking about. I definitely need to learn more about what you do. Our careers are far more different than they are similar. I’d probably know more about being a civil engineer than a classical pianist.”
“And I know more about being a pastry chef than being a rock star.”
“Considering how well you bake, you must be an expert rock musician.”
She flushed with pleasure. He really was an expert rock musician, as well as an expert at delighting her.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
They got in line behind the others waiting for their chance at a po’boy. She wasn’t familiar with this particular food truck, but judging by the length of the line, Kellen had made an excellent choice.
“So you joined the orchestra in New Orleans? Why for only a year? Not a good fit?”
“New Orleans isn’t really known for its orchestra,” she said, still on the fence about spilling a secret she held close to her heart. “They have one, of course, but I could have had a spot in the Philadelphia Orchestra or the New York Philharmonic.”
“Impressive,” he said, and then lifted his brows. “Right?”
She laughed. “Yes. That’s typically impressive.” In her circle, when she threw that bit of information around, people were definitely impressed. It was kind of refreshing that he didn’t look at her as some sort of prodigy.
“So not the orchestra.” His eyes popped wide. “You didn’t play jazz, did you?”
When she nodded slightly, he grimaced. It was the exact same reaction her father had had when she’d informed him she wasn’t accepting the position with Philadelphia. She was going to follow a different dream to New Orleans. It wasn’t as if the man had paid for her illustrious education. All students who managed to get into Curtis had full scholarships. He sure hadn’t held back his disappointment about her choices—all of her choices. Dad had warned her that she’d fail, that she couldn’t possibly make it as a jazz pianist, and his correct prediction had made her failure sting all the more.
“I played in a piano bar for a while, but I never had the right brand of funk. Patrons would request ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ instead of ‘Take the A Train.’ ”
“I’d love to hear you play ‘Take the A Train,’ ” he said. “What’s ‘Take the A Train’?”
She shook her head. “Duke Ellington?” She could tell by his blank expression that he didn’t know the song or the legend.
“You’ll have to give me a private concert,” he said. “Show me how jazz piano is supposed to be played.”
“You’re bound to be disappointed.” She’d been disappointed in herself. She supposed classical music had been drummed into her at such an early age that she couldn’t break free of its hold on her soul. She hadn’t been good enough to be taken seriously as a jazz pianist. And as someone who was used to being the best, that revelation had crushed her.
“You are the least disappointing person I’ve ever met.” Kellen nudged her arm with his elbow.
“You haven’t known me long enough to make that claim.”
“I knew that the moment I heard you banging out your com
position at the beach. It isn’t possible for the woman who’d created something that stirred me so completely to ever be a disappointment.”
She tried not to smile at how good he made her feel about herself. She’d become accustomed to living up to her own exalted expectations early in life and not caring what others thought—or so she told herself—but she kept her agent around because he encouraged her, and she definitely wanted to keep Kellen around, so maybe she needed outside approval more than she thought. Maybe her father’s continual disappointment—and his expression of his resentment at her choices—did bother her. She told herself she didn’t care that the only kind of child he’d ever wanted was one willing to take over his financial legacy, but she craved approval from those who cared about her. Even those she’d known for only a few days.
Kellen placed a hand in the center of her back and urged her forward. The line was moving, but she’d been so wrapped up in him and her own thoughts, she hadn’t noticed.
Treasure Me Page 2
