Pure Iron (5 page)

“Dad was a soldier, killed in combat when she was pregnant with me,” he elaborated. “Her widow’s pension didn’t cover much. We lived in subsidized housing. It was a rough neighborhood.”

He praised his mother’s philosophy of tough love and unconditional support: “Mom always insisted that I needed to find my own way. She didn’t really understand the intensity of music’s call to me, but she let me run with it as much as she was able.”

He described his first instrument, a secondhand violin that just wasn’t cool: “I griped about it, but Mom told me that it was all she could get and that I could play it or not, my choice. Fortunately, the school had a good music teacher who thought I had talent. He actually paid for my first two years’ violin lessons out of his own pocket.”

He reminisced about his violin instructor: “Mr. Jackson never called it a violin; he always used word ‘fiddle.’ He died when I was eleven and he willed his fiddle to me. I still have it. Best damned fiddle ever. I took it an appraiser who couldn’t tell me anything about it except that it had been handmade by an unknown craftsman of uncommon skill.”

Mick paused. Sonia offered him the remainder of her iced tea and he took it, draining the bottle.

“Anyway, by the time I was about fifteen, I was already working part-time and summer jobs. I was big for my age and could fool people into thinking I was older than I really was, so I busted my butt to earn enough money to buy a guitar. Then, when I finally got one, I worked to pay for guitar lessons.”

He returned to the topic of his mother: “Anyway, Mom didn’t tolerate academic slackers, so she made sure I did well in school. Or else. I never wanted to find out what that ‘or else’ might be. Mom still scares the hell out of me.”

He paused, then asked carefully, “Would you believe I skipped two grades?”

“Yeah, I would,” Sonia replied. “Idiots don’t create beautiful music like you do.”

God, I think I love you
, he thought, but did not say. Mick took a breath and continued his autobiography: “In high school I met up with Davis and Angelo. Davis is our drummer. He is phenomenal on the drums. Angelo is our horn player: saxophone, clarinet, flute, you name it. If it’s brass or woodwind, he can play it. He really adds depth and dimension to our music. Our bass guitarist, Kristof, came a few years later. And then there’s Jack, our keyboardist. Man’s a wizard on the ivories and has a great voice, too.

“Anyway, Davis and I would meet at Angelo’s parents’ house. Mr. and Mrs. DiMarco let us play in their garage. At that time of my life, they were the only family I knew who even had a garage, so it seemed like an incredible luxury. I know now that they were almost as poor as Mom and I were, but they were so generous.”

“You were surrounded by good people.”

“Some,” he agreed. He continued: “Davis and I both went to college on scholarships. Davis got full ride. My scholarship wasn’t enough to pay for room and board, so I commuted and worked part-time. On weekends we’d play in local bars even though we weren’t old enough to drink. That didn’t matter though.

“Anyway, we were playing an actual paying gig when one of the university’s music professors heard us. We were juniors by that time and Jim and Kristof had since joined our band of merry men. We weren’t producing much of our own stuff yet, still trying to find our way, make our own sound. But, as luck would have it, we played a tune that night that I’d written and, voilà, the rest is history.”

He ran a knuckled down her cheek and asked, “What about you?”

She smiled wryly at him and said, “Nothing dramatic or horrendous. I had a very ordinary childhood, growing up solidly middle class in the suburbs with both parents—who are still married, by the way—and three brothers. I’m the third in line. We had the requisite Labrador retriever, mackerel tabby cat, and ten-gallon freshwater aquarium to teach us responsibility.” She chuckled and added, “All I learned from that is that dogs are needy and fish tanks stink. I still like cats, though.”

Mick nodded. He’d never had a pet, never felt the lack.

“Anyway,” she continued, “Dad’s an accountant and Mom’s a high school chemistry teacher. My older siblings are both out of college and settled in respectable jobs with nice wives and growing families. My younger brother will graduate college in another year. He’s the adventurous one. He wants to be forest ranger.”

She paused to check if she had lost his interest. He looked steadily at her, his gaze piercing, penetrating, focused as though she were the only woman on the planet. Such direct regard made her belly quiver with delicious anticipation. Sonia licked her dry lips to moisten them and continued speaking: “We’re all rather boring. We participated in sports. I ran track and swam. There’s no dreadful story of abuse or tragedy. We’re all boringly average.”

“Your childhood sounds pretty much fantastic.”

“It was good overall,” she agreed. Then she sighed. “Penny and I have been friends since kindergarten, but somewhere along the way she went wild.” She shook her head in confusion.

“Penny’s your roommate?”

“Yeah.”

Leaning in close to her, he whispered intimately into her ear, “By tomorrow morning, you’ll be the wild one, but you’ll only be wild for me.”

Her breath hitched again. She’d had boyfriends before. What reasonably attractive girl hadn’t? But never had any boyfriend treated her to such blatant sexuality. But never before had she wanted to follow through. She stole a look at Mick and felt excitement fizz in her blood. So this is what giddy feels like.

The pilot announced that the aircraft would be landing shortly and asked everyone to return to their seats and buckle up. Mick reached over to take Sonia’s hand, entwining his fingers with hers.

Less than half an hour later, they had deplaned and were walking toward the baggage claim and ground transportation area. Sonia, who had never visited Las Vegas, looked wide-eyed, all agog at the ubiquitous and noisy presence of slot machines. Huge LCD panels showed teasing clips of featured shows: Cirque du Soleil, magicians, singers, comedians, impersonators. A short man in a hat held a tablet with Sonia’s name emblazoned across the screen.

“That’s our ride,” Mick said.

“How—?”

“I called my agent. Jay’s a whiz at arranging things.”

“Mr. Hendriksen, Miss Houlihan,” the chauffeur acknowledged them with an empty, professional smile and a nod. “Welcome to Las Vegas. Do you wish to check in to your hotel first or head to the chapel?”

The chauffeur who had seen and heard just about everything was not impressed by a young rock star and his girl and their impulsive decision to avail themselves of a quickie marriage in a city renowned for its support of impulsive behavior. The week before he had driven three movie stars around the city. The things that those three had done in the back seat of his car required a thorough cleaning of the vehicle’s interior afterward to remove any lingering stains on the carpet or upholstery.

Uncertainty crossed Sonia’s face. Before she could panic, Mick answered, the chauffeur’s inquiry, “We’ll check into the hotel first. I’m sure Sonia will wish to freshen up.”

“Very good, sir,” the chauffeur replied and led them to a gleaming black limousine. “Your agent, Mr. Donaldson, reserved a suite for you at Caesar’s Palace.”

“Great. Thanks,” Mick said as he and Sonia slid into the vehicle’s plush interior. Once seated, he took her hand in his as much for her reassurance as for his own pleasure. It surprised him that he liked holding her hand.

The drive to the hotel ended quickly. The chauffeur pulled the limousine into the VIP area where attendants quickly hopped forward to make them feel welcome. A hotel concierge accustomed to working with high profiles guests met them at the door and led them to a private office where she checked them in. She led them to a VIP elevator that took them directly to the floors where the executive suites were located. Her mouth hung open just a little in awe at the obsequious treatment and luxury of the suite.

“We can’t stay here long,” Mick said, his voice low and tense. His eyes darted toward the luxuriously appointed bedroom.

Sonia’s jaw worked, but no words came out. Still holding her hand, he drew her against him and circled her waist with his other arm. He stared into her eyes for a second, then crushed his mouth to hers. She yielded, opening to him, then her tongue entwined with his and he found himself desperately fighting for control. Dear God, he thought, he had never had such an explosive reaction to any woman. This whirlwind romance was more than just sex, although he would be damned if he could deny sex wasn’t a huge part of it. The anticipation of sinking his cock into her wet heat had his eyes crossing. He reluctantly pulled away from her, a noble restraint made more difficult because she surged against him, rubbing her body against his as she rose to her tiptoes.

“Wear the pink dress,” he suggested with a gesture toward her carry-on bag.

Suddenly it occurred to her that Mick had packed her clothes. Well, obviously, she chided herself, because Penny wasn’t in any frame of mind to pay attention to any such thing.

She opened the small suitcase and dug out the pink dress. It was more daring than what she normally wore and purchased especially for her vacation in case she went to a party. The crisp material had a 1950s retro look that she thought classy, while the halter top design was sexy. The full skirt swirled just above the knee.

Before changing, she opted for a quick shower. It would have been great to linger under the multiple showerheads, but she feared that Mick’s patience would expire before she was ready. Her mind flashed back to a Pirates of the Caribbean movie in which character Elizabeth Swan proclaims how ready she is to be married. Sonia ran her hands down her body and understood.

Before donning fresh panties and matching bra and the dress, she spent several minutes blow-drying her hair. She debated for about two seconds whether to pull it back into the usual ponytail, but she had nothing to secure a ponytail in place. So, she left the somewhat damp tresses loose. She brushed her teeth and applied mascara and a light coat of lip gloss.

She emerged from the bathroom and Mick’s eyes practically devoured her.

“You look edible,” he growled. “Stay put.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, carrying his overnight bag with him. Fifteen minutes later he came out, dressed in crisp gray slacks and a dark blue silk dress shirt. Sonia’s breath caught in her throat. He’d look good, really, really good, in jeans and tee shirt, but dressed like that he was just plain gorgeous. He’d slicked his wet hair back into a stubby ponytail at the nape of his neck. Pulled away from his face like that threw into sharp relief his sharp bone structure, narrow, aquiline nose, and the full, sensuous lips. If a hawk or falcon had a human profile, it would look like Mick Hendriksen.

“Wow, you clean up pretty,” she complimented with a teasing lilt.

He grinned at her as he buttoned his cuffs. Then, he held out his hand and she automatically took it. “Let’s go ring shopping. I want the world to know you’re mine.”

Sonia grabbed her purse and followed him out. They met the chauffeur who drove them to one of the more exclusive jewelers. The chauffeur patiently waited while his clients picked out the perfect diamond.

“How may I assist you?” a sales clerk impeccably dressed in crisp black suit, white shirt, and red paisley tie inquired from behind an illuminated jewelry case. If he recognized his rock star client, he gave no sign of it.

“We’re looking for a bridal set,” Mick replied as he wandered among the cases, towing Sonia along with him. He stopped and pointed to one set. “What do you think about these, babe?”

Sonia’s eyes widened. “It’s a little big,” she demurred.

Mick drew her close under his arm. “Sweetheart, I can afford it, if it’s the money you’re worried about.”

“Er … no … it’s not really my style,” she said, blushing. What she did not say was that she thought the bridal set simply garish. She set her purse on the glass top of the case and splayed her hand. “I’m a chef, Mick. I need something that won’t get in the way of what I do, because I don’t want to have to take off my ring every day when I go to work.”

Overhearing the conversation, the clerk gently interrupted. “If you’ll pardon my intrusion, but we have something that may suit the lady better, given her occupation.”

Mick looked up and nodded curtly. They followed the clerk to another case where a selection of bands was displayed. In that case were few clusters of gemstones that would snag on sweaters or require frequent scrubbing to remove debris.

“Oh, I like that set,” Sonia said, pointing to an art nouveau style bridal set. The graceful design on the bride’s band was enlarged and thickened to suit the masculinity of the groom’s ring. “What do you think? Can you play guitar wearing that?”

Mick hesitated, surprised that he was expected to wear a ring, too.

Sonia’s eyes narrowed and she asked quietly, ‘Did you think I was the only one to be off-limits by wearing a wedding band?”

Aware that he’d made an egregious error and faintly shuddering at the thought of having sex with any of the promiscuous groupies who clustered around backstage doors and the band’s bus, he moved quickly to rectify it. But he knew he had to be honest with her.

“No, sweetheart, I just hadn’t thought about it. I was looking more to find something that you’d like.”