A Better Reason to Fall in Love (11 page)

“Thank you,” Jagger mumbled into the mike. “Thank you so much. Y’all like my Maw Maw’s place here, Sweet Genevieve’s?” he asked. The crowd cheered, whistled, and applauded. “Did you enjoy dinner…if you had it?” he asked as he began to pick a slow melody.

“Well, then…we’ll try to play it for you,” Jagger said as he licked into “Yellow Moon.” The arrangement sounded even more rich and bewitching with the other instruments, and Tabby sat back in her chair—sighed as she watched and listened.

She was enthralled—mesmerized—as she enjoyed the music. However, midway through the song, following a smooth jazzy guitar lick, Jagger Brodie glanced down from the stage and locked gazes with Tabby for a moment. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as his eyes narrowed—as he smiled a moment before continuing the vocals of the song.

Tabby’s excitement rose, however—for every once in a while Jagger would look down and smile—he would smile at her! He glanced to Emmy too—even smiled at her. But the smile he smiled when he looked at Tabby was different; she was sure it was. Oh, she was probably just imagining it—caught up in the “groupie at the edge of the stage” thing—but she didn’t care. Tabby was determined to enjoy the eye contact with Jagger Brodie—his smile—no matter what it meant, even if it meant nothing.

As she watched him, she began to imagine that he really was some sort of secret identity toting spy—a superhero or something. Surely the guy on the stage with the goose-bump-inducing voice, the guy with the ultra-cool swagger and sexy tousled hair, couldn’t be Jagger Brodie, the sales and marketing analyst from the office. Sales and marketing analysts didn’t wear silver-tipped cowboy boots; they didn’t keep guitar picks in their pockets or sing about kissing some bewitching woman under a southern moon. Sales and marketing analysts grabbed a hamburger on the way home, plopped down on the sofa, and watched the news. Didn’t they?

For over an hour Jagger Brodie and his band performed, song after song, with only minimal breaks during which Jagger would relate humorous anecdotes or trivial song information to the audience. Tabby was mesmerized, most of the time forgetting Emmy was even in the room with her—forgetting that anyone else was in the room with her. It was as if Jagger had some strange power over her, as if he’d managed to hypnotize her with the sound of his voice, with his gaze and the occasional smiles he’d send her way. She began to wonder things about him she’d never dared wonder before. She knew he wasn’t married—every female in the office made certain that fact had been ascertained long ago. Yet she wondered if he had a girlfriend. She glanced around the room once or twice. There were several very beautiful women listening to Jagger’s music, yet she hadn’t seen his gaze linger on any one of them. Thus, Tabby decided that if he did have a girlfriend, she wasn’t in attendance. She wondered about his past and his family. Rhett had said Jagger was his cousin, that their fathers were brothers, and that their grandmother was from New Orleans. Rhett had a very discernable accent, so it was obvious he’d spent at least his formative years in the South. Though Tabby had spoken with Jagger on several occasions, she didn’t note the same accent in his speech, however. Still, she wondered where he grew up—wondered if Katrina had driven him out of New Orleans the way it had his grandmother. She wondered how many other members of his family were employed at the restaurant. If the hostess was Jagger’s aunt, the owner his grandmother, and one of the waiters his cousin, then was the pretty little waitress attending a nearby table also related to him?

As the song Jagger was singing ended, Tabby’s attention snapped back to the stage.

“Thank you. Y’all are great,” Jagger said, “Hey…we’re taking a little break. Just give us about fifteen minutes and we’ll be back. All right?”

Tabby watched as Jagger set his guitar on the stand—as he followed the band back across the stage to disappear behind the wall of black curtains.

“Well?” Emmy began, jabbing Tabby in the ribs with one elbow, “what do you think?”

“I think this is my chance to run over to the gift shop and buy Jagger Brodie’s CD, that’s what I think,” Tabby whispered as she stood up.

“No…I mean what do you think about your little Derrière-inator now? Are you ready to pursue him?” Emmy asked. “I mean, come on, Tabby—he’s perfect for you! He’s totally hot, totally charming, and totally a musician. Blues even! It’s like he was made for you.”

Tabby smiled. “And every other woman in this room, Emmy. Look around. They’re all completely crushing on him.”

“So?” Emmy said. “Get him to crush on you!”

“Oh, yeah…like that will ever happen.” Tabby shook her head, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous suggestions Emmy sometimes made. “Will you stay here while I run to the gift shop? I don’t want to lose our seats.”

Emmy sighed with exasperation. “Yes, I’ll stay here. But hurry.” Emmy frowned. “That guy next to us keeps staring at me, and I don’t want to sit here alone for too long, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll hurry.”

Tabby quickly glanced around. She didn’t really want Jagger Brodie to see her buying his CD. Once she was certain he was nowhere near, she headed toward the front of the restaurant and the little gift shop just to the left of the entrance.

“Hi,” a young woman greeted as Tabby entered. The woman was folding T-shirts embroidered with small cypress trees and the words
Sweet Genevieve’s
.

“Hi,” Tabby answered as she began to look around. She smiled, delighted by the little novelty items placed here and there. There were plush stuffed animal alligators, refrigerator magnets, something called “beignet mix,” T-shirts, and a small spin-rack loaded with CDs. The spin-rack was sitting on the counter near the register, and Tabby quickly began searching the CD titles.

“He’s very good,” Tabby said. She felt the ridiculous heat of jealousy rising in her. The gift shop clerk was really pretty—dark-haired, dark-eyed, with skin like the smoothest milk chocolate. Tabby wondered how well she knew Jagger. She could well imagine Jagger’s finding this woman attractive. What man wouldn’t?

“Do you know him?” Tabby asked.

The young woman smiled. “I do,” the girl said. “He’s my distant cousin…but distant enough that I can still wish I knew him better…if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah…I know what you mean,” Tabby said, forcing a smile.

“I mean, really…can you imagine kissing a mouth that can sing like that?” the woman whispered.

Tabby shook her head, forcing another smile—even though she was pretty much astonished at the woman’s frankness. “Nope,” she managed.

Tabby ran her debit card through the purchase machine, punched her pin number in with the stylus pen, and returned the debit card to her back pocket.

The clerk put the two Jagger Brodie CDs in a brown paper bag with
Sweet Genevieve’s
printed on the outside and then handed the bag and a debit card receipt to her.

Tabby startled, gasping as she turned to see Jagger Brodie standing behind her. He was leaning against the gift shop doorframe, feet crossed, hands casually shoved in the front pockets of his jeans. Tabby felt the heat of a deep blush warm her cheeks. He looked as if some high-end fashion photographer had posed him there. Jagger Brodie was far too attractive for his own good—or hers.

Jagger’s grin broadened to a smile as he said, “I would’ve given them to you for free, you know…or given you the download info for my site.”

“You have a site?” Tabby asked, smiling.

“Of course,” he said. “Though I’m pretty bad at maintaining the blog. Still, I could’ve given you the info to download those songs and saved you thirty bucks.”

“Don’t you let your Maw Maw Genevieve hear you saying that, Jagger Brodie,” the pretty store clerk flirted. It was obvious, by the look of sheer admiration and almost panting delight in ogling him, that the store clerk really had a thing for Jagger. “You know she thinks you shouldn’t give so much away.”

“It’s about the only way I can get people to listen to it, Delilah,” Jagger told the clerk. “You know that,” he added, winking at her.

“I’m glad to pay for them. They’re worth it,” Tabby said, drawing Jagger’s attention away from the clerk and back to her. She didn’t like the way the woman was so openly flirting with him. It made her ears feel hot—made the back of her neck sizzle. “I like good music…especially good blues and jazz. It’s kind of hard to find these days.”

“I know they’ll be good,” Tabby told him. “You’re good live, aren’t you? And in my experience, if a band or musician is good live, then they certainly record well.”

Jagger’s nearly seductive smile broadened. “You think I’m good?”

“I wouldn’t have dropped thirty dollars on you if I didn’t,” Tabby giggled. She was proud of herself for maintaining an air of confidence—for in truth she thought she might melt into a puddle of sizzling longing right there at his feet.

“Aw…maybe you just felt bad for me,” he teased.

“I don’t feel bad for you,” she said, playfully smacking him on the arm with the back of her hand. “Mr. VIP by day and rock star by night.”

Jagger chuckled, and Tabby’s heart leapt with delight at the sound.

“Rock star?” he asked. “Hardly.”

“Well, you don’t dress like this for work,” Tabby teased him. She reached out, plucking at one of the buttons on his sexy mod-western shirt.

“Well, neither do you,” he said, tipping his head to one side and studying her from head to toe. Tabby liked the way his strong brows arched in apparent admiration. She was glad she had worn her skinny jeans and black ankle-strap heels—the tiger print top too.

“Jagger,” Delilah interrupted from behind the counter. “Do you have the other merchandise your Aunt Addie asked you to bring in?”

Jagger nodded, though he did not look at the clerk. He only continued to study Tabby. “It’s in my car. I’ll bring it in before I leave,” he said.

“She drives me nuts,” he mumbled under his breath. Tabby giggled, for she could well imagine the way the love-struck store clerk fawned over the gorgeous blues singer.

“The hazards of being a rock star, I suppose—groupies,” Tabby teased in a whisper.

“She can’t be a groupie. She’s my cousin…I think…somehow,” he stammered as a perplexed frown puckered his brow. “That would be weird.”

“Distant cousin…the way I understand it,” Tabby told him. He was leading her to a more secluded space near the indoor water feature and pond. “And she is beautiful.”

“Yeah, but I’m more interested in how two of the office Foxy Four ended up at my Maw Maw’s restaurant tonight,” Jagger said, turning Tabby to face him now that they were out of the line of restaurant traffic.

Tabby shrugged and answered, “My parents came in last week and loved it. Emmy and I thought we’d just try it out…so here we are.”

“I thought I was imagining you sitting there when I first saw you,” he said, smiling. “When I realized you really were there…it made me all nervous.”

“Oh, right,” Tabby giggled.

“I’m serious,” he assured her. “It freaks me out when people I know are around when I’m, you know, playing and all.”