IntheMood (7 page)

He touched her inside, his cock effortlessly reaching that
spot she loved the most. She gripped his shoulders and lifted her legs. He
needed to bend his legs to align their bodies. Or lift her like he was doing
now.

After hoisting her up, he pressed her against the wall.
Something stuck into her back, but it didn’t hurt too much. A wood panel or
something. She didn’t give a damn, not with that beautiful cock making sweet
music inside her. She pressed her shoulders against the wall and tightened her
thighs around his waist while he took her on the ride of her life.

He made it sweet, then slow, then faster, making it
impossible for her to predict his next move. When she opened her eyes, she saw
him watching her, eyes blazing a message of desire, one she was returning.

When her peak climbed so high she knew there was no going
back, he was pounding into her, staring into her eyes, watching her as flesh
impacted flesh. She hooked her arms around his neck and dragged herself closer
for a kiss, one she badly needed.

Something caught inside her and she cried out into his
mouth. Her pussy pulsed around him, clenching and unclenching until he
responded and sent his semen deep inside her welcoming body.

Crooning to her, he held her securely and took her into the
shower.

Half an hour later, having missed the final sound check
completely, V stepped on to the stage to face far more people than she’d
expected, even after seeing the line.

She’d wanted a place at the back, but they’d built a
platform for her, so she was on the same level as Hunter, who was already in
his place.

He raised one of his drumsticks and saluted her, and she
wondered if anyone had heard the frantic fucking earlier. She’d left it so
close, she’d hardly had time to think, and the afterglow of good sex still
curled around her. She smiled back and settled her sax into place.

The stage was in darkness, with a single spot trained on the
place where Zazz would stand in just a few minutes. The other members of the
band quietly took their places, to the raucous welcome of the crowd, who didn’t
miss a thing. The man at the front hushed the audience, someone wearing
headphones and dressed casually.

This setup was new to her, but her first riff came only five
bars into the song, so she had to be sharp. And assume that whoever had taken
her place at the sound check had got it right. However hard she tried, she
couldn’t feel sorry for not turning up.

A recording stood by in case anything went wrong, an earlier
performance of a different track.

Waiting was the worst. Zazz stepped on stage, just out of
the spot, and a disembodied voice came from the speakers. “This album is so
fresh the band is still finishing it up, which is why they aren’t here tonight.
But we got in touch with them in Chicago, and here’s Murder City Ravens with
Sex
and Diamonds
. The new title for
She’s So Sexy
.”

And they were off. The lights flashed on, and she knew the
band’s name was emblazoned behind her. Zazz did his solo faultlessly, then the
lights went up and she was on.

Blasting her piece, knowing she sounded good, sensing the
support of the band, she felt great, better than she ever had before onstage.
There were what, five hundred people out there? Plus Matt, sitting to one side
of the first row.

That gave her pause, but Matt wasn’t only her lover, he was
a musician too, capable of dissociating himself from their personal life. Just
an engineer, she told herself.

The riff went perfectly. She repeated it at the end of the
second verse, then reversed it for the third, a palindromic series of notes
that trailed off into melancholy instead of building to a triumphant major key.

Just the solo, then a repeat of the riff, then she was done.

The solo went okay until she glanced up and saw—Jack. He
hadn’t told her he’d be here. He stared at her, a slight smile quirking his
mouth, that smile she always thought a bit mocking, as if he had a private joke
going at her expense.

She faltered, hit a bum note. Shocked, she nearly stopped,
but Jace came in, playing a few extra notes, then swinging straight into his
part.

The final riff didn’t go as well as she wanted it to, and
she hunched over her sax, aware she’d failed again.

Once the track ended, she forced herself to smile and remain
on stage while the audience went crazy. Murder City Ravens were planning to
play one more piece, but the live camera was off them now. They’d use the track
for promotion, and to give the show’s website an extra. But they didn’t need
her for this. She was done. All she had to do now was stand in her place and
listen to the great music.

V wasn’t sure how she got back to the dressing room, but she
flung open the door and came to a dead stop. Her Uncle Claud sat on the chair
by the vanity, his legs crossed, his arms folded.

She put her sax carefully down and glared at him. “What?”

“Girl, I’m proud of you. You did good.”

“I screwed up the solo.”

“If you did, nobody noticed but you, and the guy who played
after you. They seemed pretty happy with what you did. I am too. Does this mean
you’ll be doing more with them?”

“Afraid she’ll get into bad ways?” came Matt’s velvet-toned
voice from behind her. His hands settled on her waist and instantly she felt
better.

Claud chuckled. “After my crowd? Not hardly, man. Our little
girl has a lot of good sense.” His gaze moved up, presumably meeting Matt’s
eyes. “I had some experience. I know when a man’s on the sauce, liquid or
pills, and you ain’t. Or not for serious, anyhow.” His rusty laugh came
breezily and he slapped one hand on his knee. “The point is, you know what it’s
like. Ain’t nobody better at looking after a woman than a man who’s been there
and come out the other side. How long you been straight?”

“Long enough to know I’m not going back.”

“Glad to hear it.” Leaning on his well-worn ebony cane,
Claud got to his feet. “Mind, you don’t look after her and you know we’ll come
after you.”

It was Matt’s turn to chuckle. “Oh, I’ve seen your family
all right. I got more warnings than I’ve had in a lifetime before. She’s well
cared for but not because of that.”

“
She
is standing right here.” V pulled away from him
and went deeper into the room. Another protector? God save her. She had enough
to go around twice. They loved her, she got that and they wanted her safe and happy.
Maybe because of her beginnings and her fragility as a child they swaddled her
a bit too close. She couldn’t blame them, but sometimes she felt she was
fighting against layers of thick cotton. Like being wrapped in a dozen
comforters.

“For your information, I will do as I please. That includes
dating who I please.” But when she looked at Claud, she softened. He only meant
it because he cared for her and he didn’t cocoon her like some of her
relatives. “Claud, I appreciate it. And thank you for coming tonight.”

Claud raised a brow but said nothing. He didn’t have to.
“Girl, you were worth hearing. You took that song right up. See you later. I
ain’t doing Sunday afternoon because I have lunch with a lady friend, but I’ll
see you at church in the morning.”

With that strong reminder, he left.

From Claud, praise really meant something to V. He liked
what she did and he thought she’d improved the song. He’d always encouraged
her, but so did all her family. Claud was, however, one of the musicians. He’d
seen great artists, hosted them at the club sometimes, and he knew a quaver
from a minim. Elation filled her, made her feel as if she were floating.

“He liked me.” She turned and faced Matt, who was leaning
against the doorjamb, hands in pockets, watching her with a soft smile on his
face.

“Of course he did. You were great. They loved you. So did
the camera. I caught some of the shots. Wait until we see it back.”

Her answering smile faded. “No, I won’t do that. I can’t
watch myself.”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his chin, the bristles from
a day’s growth rasping. “Best if you learn to watch, sweetheart. You’re your
own best critiquer.”

“Claud always says that.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure he does. He knows his shit, that
man.” He paused and she was attuned enough to him by now to know he wasn’t
saying something.

“What?”

“What do you mean?”

She braced her elbows on her hips. “You know what I mean.
What were you going to say?”

He glanced along the hallway outside and came in, closing
the door quietly behind him. “Just that you’re twice the musician your Uncle
Claud is. He’s a great piano player, but he doesn’t have that spark that I hear
in you.” He spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Sorry, but you asked.
And it’s only my opinion.”

Grinning, she gave him the answer she guessed he didn’t
expect. “You think he doesn’t know that? He’s like you, Matt. He enables.”

He didn’t seem too happy with that assessment, frowning. “I
like to think that what I do is part of the creative process.”

She could tell he’d taken offense, because his language had
become formal and distant. “It is. But you also help not so good artists get
better, don’t you?” Stepping close, she spread her palm over his chest. His low
growl sounded good to her, although she thought he didn’t mean it in that way.
But she could hope. “With bands like Murder City Ravens, you do add to the
creative process. They’re into electronics and you added a lot to the tracks,
suggested things they’d never have imagined. They’re brilliant and getting
better. But with another artist, one beginning their career, say, or a pop
queen who’s more looks than voice, you can do wonders.”

“I can make hits,” he allowed. “Even without Auto-Tune. I
don’t use it for voices.”

She’d noticed that. He’d produced something very eerie with
an auto tuner and a recorded theremin, the instrument that could be played
without touching it. Something that had made her skin crawl and was meant to.
Murder City Ravens had taken that technique and run with it. “Okay, you win.
You most definitely create.”

His expression softening, he slid his arms around her waist.
“And so do you. But I get what you’re saying about your uncle. That club gives
people a place to play and somewhere for people to socialize, as valuable in
its way as a guitar solo from John Lee Hooker.”

“So you do have an interest in Chicago blues. He played at
the club, you know. Almost everyone did. They’d tour the clubs, making what
money they could.”

“I know. It’s one reason I decided to come here.”

She tilted her head to one side. “What are the other
reasons?”

He answered almost immediately, as if he didn’t have to
think about his answer. “I have no history here. No contacts.” He grimaced. “No
way of getting drugs easily even if I’d wanted them. They’re free for the guys
in the band, and boy, is that something when you’re starting out. Here, I’d
have had to go out hunting. I’d have to make the decision that I wanted H or
coke and I’d have to make an effort to get it, instead of having it handed to
me for free.”

“It’s not that difficult to get,” she said.

His hands tightened on her waist. “And you’d know that,
how?”

She gave him a look that clearly said,
Duh
. “I grew
up here. Went to school here. Played music in the clubs here. Yeah, I’ve tried
this and that in my time, but I’ve never stuck with anything. It didn’t seem
worth it to me.” She paused. “Besides, with a family like mine, I’d have to be
desperate to get hooked. My mom cleaned my room every week until I left home,
and she still turns up at my apartment from time to time. Trouble is, she
usually arrives with a peach cobbler and I can never resist those.”

“I wouldn’t like to see you take drugs.” His features
tightened once more and her heart sank. Had she found yet another protector?
But his next words went some way to dispelling that notion. “But it has to be
your choice. I wouldn’t stick around to watch, that’s all.”

Normally she’d see that as emotional blackmail, but this
time she realized he was protecting himself as much as her. He couldn’t have a
junkie girlfriend. Not and live. Lucky she didn’t intend to take that path. She
went on tiptoe and kissed him. “I won’t. So what happens now?”

“You ready to rock or ready for bed?”

Oh yes, he was a musician all right. Sometimes she felt
frenetic after a session, other times, completely drained. Tonight she wanted
one thing. “Take me home and take me to bed.”

“With the greatest pleasure in the world.”

Chapter Seven

Taking her moment in the spotlight with grace proved
difficult. Every one of the regulars in the café mentioned it, said she was
“great” and even “sexy”. V smiled and said thank you but didn’t add anything
else. Her moment of fame would pass in a day or two. Just a shame her shift was
directly after the show. A day or two would have given her a cushion. But no,
there she was, a sitting duck for all the compliments and jokes.

“You’ll have to get used to it.”

She spun around, nearly whacking her partner with the spoon
in her hand. He ducked out of the way, grinning. “Jack, what are you doing? Why
are you here?”

“I came back for the books. We had a few deliveries and I
didn’t have time to record them.” It sounded reasonable. Jack was meticulous
about recording the scrappy pieces of paper on to the computer program they
used for their accounts. She wasn’t half so good, would put them aside until
the spike was nearly full. So she smiled, although she could have done without
his input today.

She turned back to the customer she was serving, her smile
far too broad, but she couldn’t stop it. “It was a great night,” she told him,
one of her regulars.

The guy gave her a shit-eating grin. “Anything to do with
your new boyfriend?” He shared the grin with the barista standing at the
cashpoint, and the woman had the nerve to giggle.

The stillness behind her told her Jack was waiting for her
answer. She told herself she didn’t care. She and Jack had been over for nearly
a year. She wouldn’t deny her growing relationship with Matt. “He owns the
studio that recorded the single and the new album. But the band had to okay me.
He says he can put some session work my way from time to time.”

“Oho.” The cop waggled his bushy gray brows. He reminded her
of a knowing squirrel. “You’ll be too big for this place soon. Our little V on
national TV.” With a swift move that belied his size, he reached out and put a
beefy hand over hers. “You take care, you hear? Don’t touch any drink you
haven’t seen poured, and don’t take sweets from strangers.”

“I promise.” He didn’t just mean the drugs, she knew. He
meant all the other dangers as well; the late nights, the hangers-on, the other
things that musicians had to take in stride.

“I still have half this place to keep me grounded.”

“And you have me,” Jack said quietly from behind her.

She turned to him, gave him a quizzical look.

He shrugged. “I can’t help it, darling. You still have me.”

“We’ll always be friends.” She could give him that.

Jack paused. “Yeah. We will, won’t we?”

She had to force her smile, but she concentrated on making
it real, adding warmth to her eyes. “Always, Jack.” She meant it, she just
didn’t feel as strongly about it as he seemed to. If he walked out tomorrow,
she’d miss him, sure, but not for long. The Jack-sized gap in her life would
soften and heal over. Although she’d caught that expression of helpless longing
more than once in his eyes, she thought she’d imagined it. Or rather, she
wanted to think that.

Now she knew she hadn’t and he was letting her see it.

The café entered a quiet period. Cops left and weren’t
immediately replaced. Shift change-over, probably. She checked her watch. Yep,
that was it. Maybe she had time to clean the milk-frothing tubes before the
next bunch of cops going off shift arrived. Keeping the coffee paraphernalia
cleaned and in good working condition was one of the banes of her life, but
since the cleaning process was an important part of making good coffee, she did
it herself on a regular basis.

As she picked up the empty milk jug and walked to the
machine, she glanced into the little office. Jack sat behind the desk, frowning
at the laptop, but as she passed, he looked up and their eyes met. At one time,
she’d have given him a sweet smile and moved on, but today that didn’t seem
appropriate.

But she still intended to move on, until he leaned back and
lifted his chin. “I never meant to let you know.”

She went into the office and closed the door. “It will
pass.” Jack was a good friend and she’d hate to lose him. Their parting had
been amicable, or as much as a breakup could be, and she’d prayed they’d both
moved on. She had. He would, if he didn’t see her so much, she was sure of it.
Habit and fondness remained, and they could be mistaken for love.

Or could they? Because what she felt for Matt transcended
that.

Shock tore through her, with an almost visceral reality. Oh
no, no, that couldn’t happen. She was spending time with him, that was all. She
couldn’t think about how she felt about Matt, because it put fizz into her
system and sent longing coursing along her veins. If Jack saw what merely
thinking of Matt did to her, he might take it for himself. She had to make matters
clear. Right now.

“You’re right, of course.” Jack’s voice was steady. Too
steady. He was controlling it the way he used to in court.

“Jack, you know things weren’t right between us for a while
before we split.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his black hair, ruffling it
up into short spikes. “I know. It was my fault. I got too obsessed with this
place, and with sorting out my life. I didn’t give you enough attention.”

That made her sound like a spoiled brat. V didn’t care for
that one bit. “No, it was us.” Their split had started when Jack asked her for
a break. Six months had turned into a permanent arrangement.

If Matt asked her for a break, said he needed to sort out
his life, she wouldn’t have hassled him.

On second thoughts, she’d go nuts without having him inside
her for more than six months. She’d miss their rambling conversations that
could go anywhere. She’d miss him. “We weren’t
going
anywhere, Jack.”

He gave her the lopsided grin she used to love. Now she
merely liked it. She preferred Matt’s more cynical expression when he smiled,
that quirky one-sided grin that flashed across his face from time to time.
“That’s what I like. Not going anywhere. You know that, V. And in a place like
Chicago, there’s no need to.”

She leaned against the door and folded her arms. From here,
she could keep an eye on the café through the glazed upper part of the door.
The two baristas on duty were doing fine. The gauze curtain gave a semblance of
privacy if they needed it, but in her time with Jack, it never had been needed.
He’d never taken her with a desperation that turned her on like whoa and damn.
Whereas she knew exactly what the pressure of a few sliders and knobs felt like
against her back.

“You’re a great guy, Jack. But you’re not for me, and I’m
not for you.”

There came that grin again, with the addition of a dimple.
“You’re probably right. And right about giving it time.”

Right then, she knew that he thought he’d give her time to
burn out with Matt and then she’d come back. He didn’t have to say anything.
The cocky gleam in his eye said it all for him. “V, you can’t blame a man for
trying. You are one gorgeous package.”

She tweaked her practical apron and smoothed back her hair,
conscious of the way it frizzed around her head today. Served her right for
deciding to skip the mousse after her shower. She hadn’t had time to style it
that morning, so had tied it back in a practical ponytail, but short strands
escaped and she’d tucked them behind her ears. “Like this, I’m just another
coffee shop girl.”

“Not to me. Besides, you’re the coffee shop owner.”

“Part owner,” she reminded him.

He smiled and bowed his head. “Part owner. V, I don’t have
any reason to force you to do anything. And I won’t press you to do your
shifts. You’re heading for a hell of an adventure, so go have it. I can employ
extra staff if you need—we can handle it. As long as we have the cop business,
the tourist trade is gravy, so we’ll do fine until you get back.”

“You could still go back to lawyering full time?” She didn’t
want him to throw everything at this place. It was her father’s idea to buy it,
and her idea to allow Jack in as a partner. A minor partner. Dear old Pop held
the few percent that would matter in a dispute. He did that with every family
enterprise when the owner wanted to raise money or, as in her case, share the
responsibility and the hours. It should have been their concern as a couple,
but up ‘til now she thought they were doing fine as business partners. She’d
thought she loved Jack. It might have been enough, once. But not now, not when
she’d found out what she could have with Matt.

Jack grimaced. “I hate it. Don’t care enough to fight my way
into a corner office. I mistakenly thought the work was about the cases, but it
isn’t. I’m giving it up, V.”

She stared at him in shock. He’d never told her that before.
He’d just said the café would give him a sideline, something else to do and
another income stream and of course she knew he’d taken on fewer cases recently
and spent more time in the shop. She’d always assumed he’d go back eventually.
“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“Because until recently I thought it was me. I thought I
wasn’t good enough, and I didn’t want to tell you that.” He shrugged. “Who does
want to admit defeat? But it’s not true. You have to play the water cooler
game, work the right cases. And then, when they found out my uncle had one of
the hottest practices in New York, they were all over me. They hadn’t connected
the names, you see, until he called to invite me to a family party. The
receptionist told the PA, who told the boss, who suddenly wanted to give me
some great cases. I left in disgust and I haven’t been back since. They’ve
given me leave, but I don’t know if I want to go back. If I’d had the heart for
it, it might have meant something, I might have tried, but I didn’t. To me, it
was just a job and the clients deserve more.”

“Surely not all firms are like that.”

“I don’t know, but I think they are.” He hadn’t shifted his
gaze from hers since he’d started to tell her. This was the plain, unvarnished
truth. “I’d rather see what I can make of this business. I’d love to do more. I
have ideas.”

She raised a brow. “First I’ve heard.”

Jack leaned forward, his dark eyes sparkling as they never
did when he talked about his job. “Why not try for a small chain? We have to
make the name popular, and we’ve done that, especially in the cop community. So
we open more.”

“The cop business.” She hated to admit it right now, when
she was feeling uncomfortable about the way he was feeling for her, but he did
have a germ of a great idea.

As it happened, it was more than a germ.

Jack reached into a drawer and drew out a slim folder.
“Here,” he said, sliding it over to her. “Look it over. It’s a proposal. I can
afford the expansion myself, at least the first two cafés, so if you don’t want
to buy in, that’s fine. We’ll just visit your father again. If I have to get
finance, I’d far rather get it from your family. I think this will do well, and
I’d rather the Hamids got the benefit than a bank. But I can get the finance anyway.
I’d prefer to use the company name, and I’d prefer to have you involved, but I
also know that things are happening for you right now. Go have fun. Tell me
your decision within a month. Okay?”

That sounded reasonable. “Sure. I won’t say anything, good or
bad, until then.” She pasted on a neutral expression. “And you came to see me
at the TV studio?”

“I did.” He smiled. “Very nice. You know I’m not into rock
particularly, but it was pretty good.”

Pretty good.
“Why did you come?”

“I never saw you before.” He frowned. “I’m surprised your
family didn’t come.”

Her mouth flattened. “You know why.” Did he know, did he
come, hoping she’d chicken out and turn to him? Or was this yet another attempt
by someone who cared for her to shelter her?

He shrugged. “It’s all in your head. You stood up in front
of five hundred people and played. There you go, you’re done. And you only made
a few mistakes. I bet none of them noticed at all.”

But he had. Glancing out the window, she groaned. “Here
comes the next shift.” The excuse gave her a reason to go. Pretty good, he’d
said. A few mistakes, he’d said. He was right. She was probably average at
best.

* * * * *

“I can’t possibly play Madison Square Garden!”

“Why not?”

Faced with that frank question, she found it hard to answer.
She stared at Matt, trying to understand why she couldn’t. “Because I have
stage fright,” she said eventually, stating it bluntly.

“Everybody does.” He cupped her shoulder, his gesture
warming her despite her rising panic. “If you don’t, then you’re probably too
smug to be any good.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.” His mouth turned up at one corner in a wry grimace.
“But I wouldn’t recommend you use the same solution I did. Ask the band, see if
I’m right. Everybody gets stage fright. Everybody who’s any good. And you are
good.” He curled his hand and she stepped forward, finding reassurance in his
arms. “Two nights, they said. The tour’s later in the year, in a couple of
months, but those two dates were suddenly available and Chick snapped them up.
He has contacts everywhere, and with the help of the record company, they’ve
set this up. It’ll be a basic show, because the lighting and staging aren’t
ready yet for the tour, but it’s doable.” He kissed her forehead. “C’mon,
you’ll be great. Think of it as an expenses-paid trip to a luxury hotel.”

She laughed. “You’re coming?”

“You bet. We can get a room with a great spa bath.”

“I bet you shared them with hordes of groupies in the past.”
She turned her face up to him and smiled. “As long as you don’t do that now.”

His responding smile warmed her right down to her bones.
“I’m the groupie. But only with you, honey. Only with you.”

She leaned up so she could kiss him. Every time he kissed
her, he made her blood fizz with excitement. It hadn’t dissipated in the time
they’d spent together. Every night for a month and much of the days too She was
beginning to think it would never dissipate, although only one thing would test
that. Time. She was willing to give it all she had, but was he?