Athena's Daughter (15 page)

Sighing, he lowered the cloth and leaned
closer to the mirror. But what he saw wasn’t the blood welling from
the tiny nick. He saw a man who was still in love with the woman
who had broken his heart seven years ago, and still wanted her as
much as he had back then. The thought of the rest of the tour
filled him with a cold dread, the knowledge that she was so close
at hand but so unreachable an almost palpable pain.

The next two weeks were going to be sheer
hell.

Fidgeting with impatience, Derek cast a
glance out the van’s window at the lowering black clouds. He was
ready to get to the airport, get in the air, and get to New
Orleans. That way he could tick another day off the calendar and be
that much closer to resuming a life that didn’t make him miserable
every minute of the day. An added bonus was the two days off in New
Orleans. With no shows to play, he planned to get the hell out of
the hotel as much as he could to minimize his contact with Athena.
New Orleans was a great city to get lost in, and getting lost was
just what he needed.

He was gratified to hear the engine of the
van in front of them fire up. If Athena and the road crew were
ready to go, then it meant they could leave. And if Ian didn’t get
in the band’s van quick they could just bloody well leave him
behind.

The side door of the van slid open, and he
looked up, ready to jab Ian a bit for being late. When he beheld
Athena climbing in, he froze. What the hell? She always rode up
front with the road crew. He cast a wild glance at the empty
expanse of seat next to him, aware that it was the only place left
for her to sit.

Her startled expression made it clear she had
come to the same conclusion, and she paused, clearly conflicted.
The next instant she was shoved forward as Ian attempted to get in
the van. With an audible sigh, she sat down next to Derek, followed
by their tardy drummer.

“Budge up, love.” Ian crowded onto the seat
and pushed Athena almost in Derek’s lap. As she struggled to right
herself, her hand brushed across his crotch, the fleeting contact
sending a bolt of lightning through him.

The speed with which she removed her hand
made it clear she was also aware of the unintentional touch.
“Sorry,” she murmured, not looking at him.

“No sweat.” He bit down on his bottom lip,
and forced himself to picture tuning a guitar to D A D D A D.
Anything but thinking of her hand on him. Too bad his cock had a
photographic memory.

“Athena!” Veronica squealed with joy from the
back seat, and threw her arms around Athena’s neck. “You should
ride with us every time.”

Derek shot a dark glance over his shoulder,
but relented a little when he saw Robin and Cindy engaged in a
marathon grope session next to Veronica. She was probably desperate
for an intelligent female to talk to.

“Yeah, Simon suddenly acquired two new pieces
of luggage and he gave them my seat in the other van,” Athena
explained. “I think he’s just tired of me.”

“His loss,” declared Veronica, leaning back
as the van pulled away from the motel.

Good God, how big was Ian, anyway? Derek
glanced over, sure the man was occupying more than his fair share
of the bench seat. Athena wasn’t that big a person, so why was she
pressed up against him so tight he could almost feel her heart
beating?

Desperate to minimize contact, he crossed his
arms over his chest, but immediately realized his mistake when the
back of his arm pressed against her breast. Tuning the guitar,
tuning the guitar, tuning the guitar. Right; that didn’t help
before, and it was even more useless when Athena squirmed next to
him. She was probably just trying to move away, but only succeeded
in rubbing her breast on his arm with a soft, delicious friction
that set his fingertips tingling. Son of a….

He uncrossed his arms and pulled them tight
in front of him. Without looking down he knew he looked like a
right idiot. A few more uncomfortable adjustments and he admitted
defeat. With a sigh, he stretched his arm along the seat back
behind Athena, careful to keep his hand away from Ian. That
wouldn’t do at all.

From behind him came a muffled snicker, and
he turned his face to the window, determined to ignore Paul and his
overactive imagination. Now that he was looking outside, he got
concerned, enough to make him forget for a moment the feel of
Athena’s shoulders against his arm. The clouds were increasing, and
getting blacker and more ominous. Were they really going to attempt
to fly in that?

With no warning, a jagged bolt of lightning
shot from the clouds, so close that the resultant thunder boomed
almost simultaneously. Instinct made him turn from the window to
shield his face. His body jerked in surprise and his arm tightened,
pulling Athena hard against him.

The exclamations of alarm around him faded to
insignificance as her clean, fresh scent filled his head, the odors
of soap and shampoo masking but not hiding the warm woman beneath.
It had been seven years since he’d smelled that particular
fragrance, but he was sure he could still pick her out of a crowd
while blindfolded. Hard on the heels of that thought was the memory
of the way she tasted. Oh, Christ, why did he have to think of
that?

Swallowing hard, he pulled back, but was
surprised when she went with him. He looked down and frowned to see
her huddled against him, her hands over her face.

“You okay?”

“We’re not going to fly in this storm, are
we?”

Derek cast a cautious glance at the window;
it was shaping up out there to be a bitch of a storm. “I’m not
sure. But it’ll be all right.”

“No, it won’t,” she mumbled. “God, I can’t
get on that stupid plane when it’s storming. It scares the hell out
of me even when the weather’s clear.”

She wasn’t kidding. He could feel her
trembling, and rubbed her arm. “Come on, now,” he said,
interjecting a hint of laughter. “Is this the same girl who dreamed
of being an airline hostess?”

“A jumbo jet is a whole other animal than
that metal cigar we’ve been flying around in.” She shook her head
against his chest. “I can’t get on that thing in a storm, Derek. I
can’t.”

“Hey, angel, it’s okay.” His heart swelled
with tenderness for his scared girl. “Nothing’s going to happen, do
you hear me? I won’t let it.” Despite the warning bells going off
in his head, he gathered her closer. “We’ll be fine.”

She relaxed against him with a small release
of breath, and he closed his eyes, fighting against the urge to
brush his lips through her hair, feel the warmth of her skin
against his mouth. He still had enough brain cells in working order
to remember that they were in a van with the members of his band
who knew his and Athena’s history, and would be quick to make
assumptions if he gave into his desire to just bloody feel for a
moment that she was his again.

The van slowed, and he lifted his head to
peer out the windshield. Ahead of them he could see someone in
uniform speaking to the driver of the first van, and after a moment
they began moving toward the terminal instead of their jet waiting
on the runway.

“Looks like we won’t be flying right away,
after all,” he observed.

Athena sat up and smoothed her hair. The
warmth where she’d rested against him grew cold, and he bit down on
his lower lip. Was that disappointment on her face or just wishful
thinking on his part?

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said in a voice
that quivered the slightest bit.

Now that he wasn’t holding her, his brain
cleared, and he firmed his jaw, brassed off at himself for losing
control. “See?” he told her. “I told you we’d be all right.”

Her wide grey eyes looked right into his, her
expression unfathomable. “I hope you’re right.”

Severe thunderstorms coming up from the Gulf
of Mexico caused their flight from Baton Rouge to New Orleans to be
delayed again and again, leaving the entire entourage roaming the
airport lounge like caged beasts. When they were finally allowed to
take off, the flight was so bumpy and rough that everyone found
religion and prayed their way south until they finally landed in
New Orleans.

Athena stumbled off the plane, white faced
and clutching Ian for support. That little excursion had been her
worst nightmare, and she wondered how the hell she’d ever talk
herself into getting back into that deathtrap.

Adding to the fun was being stuck in
rush-hour traffic on the way to the hotel, and by the time they
arrived they were all starving, irritable, and hissing at each
other like strange cats. In an attempt to calm frayed nerves, Simon
suggested they all go out as a group to Bourbon Street where they
could gorge themselves on oysters, listen to good music, and even
take in some raunchy sex shows.

None of that sounded good to Athena. She
hated oysters, was tired of music, and it had been so long since
she’d had sex she was afraid seeing it played out in front of her
would be more sad than titillating. Besides, if everyone was out of
the way, it would give her the perfect opportunity to finally have
it out with Derek who, whether he knew it or not, would be staying
at the hotel so they could talk.

Those few moments in the van when he held her
and tried to reassure her about the storm gave her the courage she
needed to tell him about Elizabeth. It was the first time he spoke
to her with any kind of tenderness since that day in the record
store, and she hoped it portended a change in their relationship.
He had even called her “angel.”

That had been the straw that almost did her
in. Being held in his arms again drove her fright of the storm out
of her mind, and replaced it with a longing that was almost
painful. She allowed herself to lean against him, breathing in that
hint of sandalwood in his cologne, and listening to the beat of his
heart against her ear. For a moment she gave in to the fantasy that
things hadn’t changed between them, that they were still the couple
they were in England seven years ago. But when he called her
“angel,” it zapped through her like an electric shock. It was all
she could do not to thread her fingers through his hair and kiss
him with all the pent-up desire in her soul.

Of course, the moment ended and reality once
again intruded, but still – it happened, and Athena determined to
take advantage of it before the traces of it completely
disappeared.

Since Paul had offered to back her up, she
made him privy to her plans. He agreed to conveniently “forget” to
let Derek know when they were leaving for the French Quarter,
leaving the way open for Athena to be alone with him.

As soon as the group left the hotel, she made
her way to Derek’s room and knocked on the door.

“Yeah, I’m almost ready,” he called out,
clearly thinking she was Paul.

She slipped into the room and leaned against
the door. Derek froze in the act of donning a supple suede jacket
when he saw her, his brows rushing together in a frown.

“What is it, Athena? I’m about to leave.”

Her heart sank at his irritated tone. It
appeared his momentary tenderness was just that – momentary. Any
hope she harbored for a friendly conversation vanished, much less
the wish for anything even remotely loving. Still, she had to try.
“No, you’re not.”

The twist of his lips indicated what he
thought of that. “Yes, I am. We’re all going to Bourbon Street as
soon as Paul comes to fetch me.”

“They’re already gone,” she informed him.
“They left about five minutes ago.”

“What?” His frown turned thunderous. “Why
didn’t they tell me?”

She decided not to implicate Paul in her
plan, and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess they forgot, or thought
you weren’t going.” She noticed her hand rising toward her mouth,
and forced herself to lower it. Over the past few weeks she had
added biting her nails to her sins of lying, duplicity and
deception, not to mention subterfuge, and she was determined to at
least go to hell with decent fingernails, even if they weren’t
polished.

“Damn it!” Derek jerked off his jacket and
flung it on the couch. “That’s just fucking wonderful.” After
engaging in a few moments of pacing and cursing the idiocy of his
band mates, he paused to give her a wary glance. “So what do you
want?”

Absolution, but no way could she tell him
that. “You and I need to have a long talk.”

In an instant he became still as a statue.
“No. We don’t.” The only part of him that moved was his eyes which
raked her with a shuttered gaze.

“Yes, we do,” she contradicted.

“Forget it. I’ve said all I have to say.”

“Well, I haven’t.” Athena pushed away from
the door and took a few tentative steps into the suite, her courage
seeming to drain out into the thick carpet with each footfall. “I
found out today that you thought that I was…that something happened
to me when I didn’t answer your letters.”

After a moment of shocked silence, Derek
turned the air blue as he cursed Paul, Paul’s ancestors, and anyone
or anything ever associated with the singer.

His discourse was not only descriptive, but
entertaining, and Athena waited patiently until he paused for
breath. “I’m sorry, Derek. I had no idea you’d think something like
that. I understand now why you were so mad at me when you saw me in
Memphis.”

“Mad? You thought I was mad?” He barked out a
humorless laugh, and Athena half expected to hear about her own
great-grandfather’s probable infatuation with barnyard animals. “It
went way beyond mad. I was furious. Still am, come to that.”

She breathed strongly through her nose. “So
you’re furious because I wasn’t really dead?”

The look he tossed her was full of contempt.
“Of course not.”

“Then why were you furious?” When he began
pacing again without answering, she ventured another step forward
and tried again. “Why? Come on, Derek. I want to know.”