If I Loved You (Harper Falls Book 1) (25 page)

Rose let the last note linger before opening
her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she rolled her neck, loosening the
muscles. She suddenly noticed Edgar. He’d raised his head when
she’d finished, his tail tapping his version of applause.

“Did you like that?” she asked, wrapping her
arms around his neck and burying her face in the warm fur.

“It was amazing.”

Rose jolted but stayed where she was.
“Edgar, you’ve been holding out on me. But let’s not tell Jack. He
doesn’t believe dogs can talk.

Jack laughed. They made quite the
picture—the adoring dog and the beautiful woman. Walking over he
leaned down and gave Rose a kiss.

“Mm,” Rose smacked her lips. “You taste like
a minty orange. It’s a surprisingly good combination.”

Jack cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over
her bottom lip. Soft, slightly damp, and irresistible, he leaned
down and kissed her again, this time doing a much more thorough
job. Tired of being ignored, Edgar butted his head up between them
until they pulled apart. Jack gave in and greeted the dog with a
vigorous tummy scratch.

“I meant what I said. That music was
amazing.” Jack raised his eyes to the piano. He hit a few notes
with one finger. “How do you put all those notes in order and get
what you were playing? I could learn how to play but what you do,
it’s magic, Rose.”

“I know how to use my computer but I could
never write a program for it, especially one as intricate and
complicated as the ones you write.”

“Not exactly the same thing.”

“Technically, no.” Rose patted the bench,
inviting him to join her. After he had sat down, she played a
simple pattern and motioned for him to repeat it.

“Every song starts the same. You have all
the notes, the sharps, and the flats. All the variations are right
in your head.” She played the same notes again, but this time
adding to its complexity. “Did you know that Irving Berlin couldn’t
read music?” Rose played the opening of her favorite Berlin
song.

“Songs like
They Can’t
Take That Away From Me
? He would play the chords or
sometimes just hum the melody, and a professional arranger would
write it down.” Rose sang a few lines then finished with a
flourish. “I know, what does that have to do with anything?
Nothing, really. Just a bit of music trivia to liven up your
evening.”

“Interesting,” Jack conceded. “Is this your
way of telling me you can’t read music?”

“Nope. I, my friend, can do it all.” She
pounded out a little Scott Joplin. Edgar yipped with approval. “Ah,
a ragtime fan. Next time we watch a movie we’ll have to get
The Sting
. Edgar will be in heaven.”
She hit the keyboards off button. “But to answer your original
question, I write almost every day and some of it is good. Some of
it’s very good. But the magic, that’s rare. The music you heard, I
don’t know where it came from. I’ve been trying to find just the
right sound Romantic but not sappy. Sensual, but not overtly sexy.
Tonight I hit it. That, my friend, will be the love theme for
Wishes
.”

Jack frowned. “
Wishes
? Why does that sound familiar?”

“Best seller? Currently being made into a
movie?” Rose decided to cut Jack some slack. He wasn’t exactly the
target audience for an epic love story that spanned ten years and
three continents.

“Your mother and sisters have probably read
the book.” Not wanting to be sexist she added, "And maybe your
dad."

“I remember now.” Jack eyes widened. “Rose,
this is a big deal. You could win an Oscar.” His gaze drifted to
the shelves across the room. “To go with your three Grammys. Rose,
you have three Grammys.”

Amused, Rose watched as Jack rushed over to
examine the awards. She was proud of them. But she kept them down
here where very people ever came because her success was a private
thing.

“You wrote
Grind
?” Jack turned towards her holding the double
platinum record that she had been awarded a few months before.

She waited for one of the varied responses
she always got. First, everyone wanted to know who the song was
about. And second, they wanted her to know how they liked to play
the song to seduce women or, like Principal Harriman, used it as a
sexual aid.

“I play it every day when I run. Edgar’s a
big fan.”

Well, Rose thought with delight, that was a
new one.

“Don’t you want to know my source of
inspiration?”

Jack replaced the record, his mind still on
the coincidence of Rose having written something he listened to
every day. Then all of a sudden it hit him what she was asking.

“Are you crazy?” Jack shuddered at the
thought. “Please, I’m begging you, keep it to yourself.”

“But everyone wants to know.” Rose hid her
grin. She couldn’t tell if Jack was slightly jealous or
embarrassed. Either way she was loving his response.

“I don’t,” he stated emphatically. “Now can
we change the subject?”

Rose got up. She shut off the lights and
closed the door behind them.

“What would you like to talk about?” she
inquired as Jack and Edgar followed her up the stairs.

“You need a new bed.”

Rose frowned. A new bed? The man could be so
confusing. “If you’re referring to the mattress, there is nothing
wrong with it. I just got it last year.”

Making sure Edgar was tucked in, bowls full,
Jack took her hand and led her up to the bedroom. He stopped in
front of the bed and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “It’s
too short.”

Rose paused to consider. Bigger mattress
meant different bed frame and headboard. She liked the one she had,
but she didn’t love it. If she got rid of it then she could
redecorate the entire bedroom, design an entirely new layout and
color scheme.

“Okay.”

Jack had been prepared to wheedle Rose into
changing the bed. Pointing out the practicality without making it
seem like he was invading her home. He didn’t want to live here.
When they moved in together, it would make more sense to use his
house.

“No hesitation? No argument?”

“It’s just common sense. When we spend the
night together we’re bound to do it here from time to time. I want
you to be comfortable. And I like how roomy your bed is. In fact, I
like everything about your bed. Give me the manufacturer and style,
and I’ll order it tomorrow. Now, if you think you’ll be alright for
the rest of the night, let’s go to bed.”

Rose took off her robe and tossed on a
chair. She liked how Jack’s eyes lit up when she was naked. It felt
good to know he desired her body as much as she desired his.
Speaking of which, she quickly scrambled under the covers so she
could enjoy the view.

“Aren’t you going to take off your pants?”
Then she added. “And get into bed?”

“I’m on it.” Jack pulled off his jeans and
hopped over her to the other side.

“I didn’t mean for you to hurry.” Rose
stopped him from climbing under the covers. “I was hoping to spend
some time admiring your splendid physique.”

More than willing to play, Jack propped
himself up on the pillows and put his hands behind his head.
“Admire away.”

Where to start? Deciding, Rose used one
finger to trace his wonderfully defined abs.

“There wasn’t a man.”

Jack’s lifted one eyelid enquiringly. “Come
again?”

“When I wrote
Crank
. There wasn’t a man.”

“Rose, sweetheart, as much as I appreciate
you wanting to share? That is one subject I’d just as soon skip.”
Especially if she wanted to tell him about multiple partners doing
sexually graphic things to her.

“No.” Rose idly traced a circle on his
chest. “I mean there weren’t any men. None. I didn’t write that
song as some glowing tribute to a mind-blowing lover. I wrote it
out of sexual frustration.
Grind
isn’t about all the things I’d done. It’s all about what I’d want
to do—if I found the right man.”

Sounded like a challenge to him, one he was
thoroughly going to enjoy completing. “Look no further.” Jack
pulled her up until she straddled his body. “I believe the woman in
the song had a list. Let’s start with number one.”

WORDS AND MUSIC. You can’t have one without
the other. Well, you can, but not if your producer is expecting
both. Sam Laughton should have been happy that she’d made a
breakthrough, half of the songs were written. But, no, he’d spent
the last ten minutes telling her to get her ass in gear.

“One month. That’s all the time you have
left to finish the songs for
Wishes
.
And it might help if you stopped spending your valuable time
judging rinky-dink high school talent shows.”

"It wasn't rinky-dink. And, by the way, who
the hell uses that term anymore? What are you ninety?"

"I'm—"

"Why do you even know about that?" Sam was
starting to get on her nerves. Not only was he constantly riding
her about her work but he was checking up on what she did in her
free time?

"As—"

"It's kind of creepy, Sam. You need to get a
life."

"Are you finished?"

Rose thought about it. "Yes, for now."

"First, I know about the talent show because
it made a few of the gossip sites. According to my assistant, some
of them considered it worthy of a mention."

"Must have been a slow news day," Rose
quipped. Personally she hated that kind of stuff but she was happy
for the kids in the show. You never knew where even the smallest
bit of publicity could lead and some the contestants had very been
talented.

"And I do have a life," he continued. "Right
now it involves making the best movie I possibly can, and if that
means getting on your ass when you take time off for frivolous
activities then so be it. Believe me, there are a lot of ways I
would rather be spending my time."

Rose stuck her tongue out at the phone. She
didn’t know Sam very well, but she was learning quickly. All
producers wanted things done yesterday. Sam wanted them done two
days before that.

“You wouldn’t stop hounding me until I
agreed to take this job. Now you won’t stop hounding me about the
work itself. Did you listen to the music? Is it not perfect? One
encouraging word, Sam. Would that kill you?”

There was a pause on the other end of the
line, then she heard a deep, heartfelt sigh.

“The music
is
perfect, Rose.” Good boy, Rose thought. But then he went and ruined
their warm and fuzzy moment. “What I didn’t realize was that you
needed constant pats on the back to function. One of the reasons I
was so keen to work with you was because of your reputation as a
self-starter. If I’d known that I would need to heap praise on you
every five minutes, I would have gotten someone less needy.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not here right
now, Sam or you’d be walking funny for a week.” Rose wasn’t sure,
but she thought she might have heard Sam chuckle. Maybe he had a
sense of humor after all. “Now, if you’ll leave me alone I’ll get
back to work. It’s your constant interruptions that are causing the
delay.”

“Fine, call me when you have something for
me to hear. And make it soon, Rose.”

Egotistical narcissist. Rose almost threw
the phone across the room. But after calculating the odds of having
to go through the trouble of getting a new one, not to mention the
damage it might do to the wall, Rose carefully sat it down on the
hall table. Damn Sam Laughton. He had a way of re-knotting all the
muscles that a night of great sex with Jack had so wonderfully
loosened.

It was too nice of a day to lock herself
away in her music room. Some sunshine and fresh air might be just
what she needed to generate her creative juices. Her backyard
wasn’t huge, but it suited Rose’s needs perfectly. Every spring she
would hire a couple of neighborhood kids to come in and do a
general clean up. Rake leaves leftover from last fall. Pull any
weeds that reared their ugly heads. Basically, get the yard as
pristine as possible before she had the fun job of planting
whatever flowers caught her fancy at the local nursery. At the
moment the beds were bursting with early spring flowers in shades
of yellow, pink and red.

Rose was fixing herself a cup of tea to take
into the back yard when the doorbell rang. For a brief moment she
considered ignoring it. She wasn’t expecting anyone or any
deliveries. Tyler and Dani would call if she didn’t answer and Jack
would just pound on the door until she let him in. She wanted
whoever it was just to go away. The bell went off again. With a
resigned sigh, she made her way to the front of the house.

“Yes?” Rose didn’t recognize the man on her
front steps. He was older, with brushed back gray hair. He wore a
black suit, black tie, and crisp white shirt. He gave a slight bow
and presented her with a white envelope. It was heavy for its size
and made of expensive watermarked paper. Across the front her name
was neatly written in black ink.

“I am to await your answer.”

Await her
answer
? Well, aren't we formal? Rose inspected the
envelope again before opening the sealed flap. It wasn't every day
she was hand delivered a letter.

“THE LONGER I live, the more convinced I am
that the world is full of crazy people. And Regina Harper is their
leader.”

Tyler handed the embossed paper to Dani. As
soon as the man had left, Rose had called her friends. They were
sitting in Rose’s living room passing around the invitation, or
summons, depending on how you looked at it.

“Your name has been printed on the paper. Do
you think she sent out to have just one invitation specially made?”
Dani turned the paper over in her hands. “This is high-grade stuff.
I can’t quite picture old Reggie having an arts and crafts room.
Martha Stewart she isn’t.”