Wrecked (Stories of Serendipity #8): #8 (5 page)

J
ason couldn’t remember being so nervous before a performance. It was probably because it had been forever since he’d actually been in front of an audience, even if it was busking for quarters on street corners in college.

There was something different about tonight though, and he didn’t know what it was. Anticipation jangled his nerves like never before. It might have been because he could see this being his foreseeable future if his dad didn’t improve, and he hoped to God this wasn’t a bust.

He’d paid special attention to his appearance, not really knowing what the crowd here was like. When he’d arrived, though, he’d immediately gone to the bathroom to loosen up a little. Next to Les’ worn jeans, and the drummer’s t-shirt, his sport coat and buttoned up shirt looked ridiculous. He’d unbuttoned the top two buttons and lost the blazer, then rumpled up his hair a little, going for sexy business casual. He hoped he could pull it off.

When he pulled out his horn, though, the pearls under his fingers felt so natural that he relaxed immediately. He had no idea if jazz was this crowd’s thing, but he loved to play it, and they would hear it whether they liked it or not. He climbed on stage next to Les and Brandon, the drummer, and watched as a wiry woman pulled the mic off the stand in front of Les.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. I hope you’re ready for a treat tonight. If not, I don’t owe Les anything. We’ll be even. So put your hands together for Les Paul, Jason O’Niel, and Brandon Whitcomb!”

Les immediately opened with the chords for their first song, and Jason felt the tension melt away completely. When his soulful tones came in over the guitar, Brandon jumped in with the rhythm and it sounded like they’d been playing together for years, not days. His fingers caressed the keys of the sax while his breath coaxed music from it. He sent the tones soaring over the heads of the front row of tables in the bar, over the brunette in front with the steely gray eyes that were focused on him alone.

They were playing a blues song, one of Jason’s favorites to play, and Les’ voice was the perfect accompaniment. It allowed the focus to be off Jason for a bit so he could survey the audience, but his roaming eyes kept colliding with the woman on the front row. Her long auburn hair fell past her shoulders in waves, and her porcelain skin shone radiantly through the hazy air. Her lips caressed her straw as she took dainty sips of her mixed drink, and her smile shone when she laughed with her friends. He was smitten.

When he realized who she was, he pulled out a measure to catch his breath.

She was the woman who’d nearly run him over.

He continued watching her when he resumed playing and saw when the recognition dawned on her slate-colored eyes. The desire in them was a measurable entity in the smoky room, followed quickly by guilt, as her eyes dropped to her lap. She couldn’t seem to keep herself from looking at him, though, as she eventually peered at him from under lowered lashes. And they were long, thick lashes he could see from the stage. After the song was over, he flashed her a smile, which she shyly returned.

Les went straight into the next song, a rolling beat from the drum-set and sultry tones from the sax, but Jason’s eyes never left the woman. He watched as she sipped the shots her friends bought her, whispered in the man’s ear next to her, and laughed with the group of people who seemed to be friends of Les’. He would have to ask him about her.

Jason continued watching the woman, reliving the day of the accident. When he’d come to, she’d been straddling him, and damned if he’d been too mad to enjoy it. So much had happened since then. He’d nearly forgotten about it with all the shit with his dad. But he used this time playing his sax to think about the woman and how she’d felt on top of him.

Les led them into a cover of an old Stan Getz song, one that typically had a female lead,
Girl from Ipanema,
the guitar plucking the vocal parts while Jason played the melody. It was a fun little song, and Jason pretended it was about her. Long and lovely and tan… she seemed to fit, especially in that white dress. She glanced up at him again, and her body stilled as he held her gaze. Something melted inside him at that moment, and all he could focus on was her, meeting her, talking to her, and apologizing for being an ass about the wreck. She lowered her eyes first, looking down into her lap, when her girlfriend on one side whispered in her ear. She shook her head, tucking a curl behind her ear, before the girl waved over a waitress and handed her some money.

A short while later, the waitress made her way up onto the stage and passed out shots to the group. They were between songs, and the waitress told Jason, “From the woman in white. She says to dance with her on your break.”

Jason looked back over at her and noticed she most certainly had not said that. She was gesticulating wildly at her friend, her voice almost audible over the din of the bar. In fact, she looked pissed. He heard Les laughing next to him.

“If you can get her, good luck. I’ve been trying for years.”

“What’s her name?” Jason asked.

Instead of answering, Les spoke into the mic. “Renae, thanks. This next one’s for you. I think Jason’s gonna start asking instead of me…” He murmured something under his breath and turned to Jason. “Can you work your way around
Let’s Do It
?”

Jason grinned at him good-naturedly. “Cole Porter? I think I can manage.” Truth be told, he loved that song and had memorized most of the horn parts and melodies on sax at an extremely early age.

He watched Renae while he played the opening lick and saw realization dawn just before Les started belting out the lyrics taking over the melody on the guitar. The blush that stained her cheeks was priceless, and Jason only felt a little bad for having the attention forced on her this way. But she was so damned good looking he was sorry he hadn’t been thinking about her more.

Les was a great guitar player and had a versatile voice. He could sing Frank Sinatra or Marvin Gaye and then follow up with a real crooner like Etta James. He was really a magician musically, able to make any song his own, and Jason was only filling in some sultry sounds where they were needed. Half the set they hadn’t rehearsed. They just played well together. Jason was having the time of his life, and the scenery wasn’t bad either.

He continued watching Renae and saw her come to some sort of decision, as about two-thirds of the way through the song, her chin lifted, and she finally met his eyes. The flush still stained her cheeks, but she seemed to be willing herself not to think about it. He saw determination light a fire in her eyes, and he found himself aching to uncover what else lay inside.

I
f Les ever finished playing, she was going to choke the living daylights out of him. But Claire was first on her list.

When Claire had sent those drinks up to the stage, Renae heard her tell the waitress what to say, and tried to stop it. She was not some loose floozy who threw herself at the talent no matter how sexy they were. No matter if she still felt guilty for nearly killing him. No matter if watching his fingers on the keys of the saxophone brought visions of the same fingers undoing the buttons on her shirt…

Before she knew it, the music from the stage had been replaced with music from the DJ, and Renae stood to find Les and give him a piece of her mind. She was mortified. Beyond embarrassed. And it was his fault. She wouldn’t go out with him, so he was going to embarrass her in public?

She stretched up on her toes to see over the crowd that had formed while she’d been lost in the music to see if she could find the prick when hands at her waist and a breath in her ear stilled her.

“I believe it’s our dance.” It was him. The saxophone player she’d nearly killed. Jason.

She turned and could only shrug, since all the air had been sucked out of the room. He was as stunningly handsome as she’d remembered. Gaping at him on stage hadn’t dampened her desire for him one bit. His warm hand enveloped hers as he led her to the dance floor where some slow country song was playing. He wrapped his hand around her waist and tugged her closer than necessary until she was flush against his long hard body. Everyone else was two-stepping, but Jason just buried his nose in her hair and swayed to the music. His exhalations on her scalp sent tingles of desire coursing through her body. Her fingers clutched his broad shoulders and she buried her face in the lapels of his jacket, inhaling his aroma.

The spicy musk brought to mind the day of the accident, and she raised her head to look at his face.

“I’m sorry about the accident. I was a bit foggy that day, and I don’t know what happened.”

He smiled at her, the crinkles around his eyes becoming more pronounced. “It’s okay. I flew high the rest of the day. Something about the adrenaline rush of surviving. It’s a real pick-me-up.” He lowered his head back to where it had been before and inhaled again before continuing. “So… Renae. What do you do?”

His voice turned her insides to mush, or else she’d had too much to drink. “I’m a bank teller. You?” She turned her head to the side and saw Les watching them, a forlorn expression on his face. She almost felt bad, except she’d been telling him forever dating him would be incestuous.

“I’m a graphic designer for a firm in Houston.”

She deflated. A few of the clouds she was walking on lost some of their oomph. He wasn’t staying. “Oh?” She forced a cheery tone into her voice. “What brings you to Serendipity?”

“My dad. He’s having some troubles, and I’m staying a couple of weeks to get him straightened out. Hopefully.”

She wasn’t sure if he was hopeful he would stay a couple of weeks, hopeful his dad would get straightened out, or hopeful he would go back home. It was vague, and Renae chose not to ponder the question. The two margaritas she’d had, plus the tequila shot Alyssa had insisted on, were doing their damnedest to make her a carefree woman tonight. And care free she would be.

“Well, good luck to you on that. I know parents can be difficult at times.” Thinking of her own difficult-to-please mother made her voice genuine. Although thinking of her mother didn’t really do much for her mood.

The song ended, but Jason didn’t let go of her. Instead, he looked at his watch and said, “I still have ten minutes or so of my break. You want to go somewhere and talk a little more?” His eyes looked hopeful and Renae shrugged again, feigning nonchalance, when all she really wanted to do was haul him to a back room somewhere and kiss him senseless. He grabbed her hand and led her to the bar to order a beer for him and another margarita for her. She really should stop, she but was having too much fun. This was the first time ever a man she was attracted to had paid her any attention, and she was going to enjoy it. Today was the first day she was actually succeeding at the whole living for herself thing.

“So… enjoying a night out with friends?” He asked her before taking a drink. Renae couldn’t stop focusing on the way his lips caressed the mouth of the beer bottle.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I don’t get out much, and they sort of forced me tonight.”

“Homebody, huh? Me too. I’d much rather stay at home and listen to music.” His elegant fingers grasped the bottle lightly, swinging it back and forth, while his blue eyes danced across her face. “Although it’s usually better with someone interesting to talk to.”

“Yeah,” she agreed weakly. His eyes bored into hers and she realized they were such a light blue they were almost like shiny aquamarine gemstones. “You have really pretty eyes.” Wow. And now her filter was gone. She felt the flush rise to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” Her hands rose to her cheeks to feel the burn.

“It’s okay. Your eyes are pretty too. And guys dig girls who think we’re pretty.” His grin was panty-melting, and Renae bit her tongue to keep those particular words inside. “I think your eyes aren’t all that’s pretty about you.”

She nearly clamped her hand over her own mouth as her eyebrows rose in surprise. She was speechless as she watched his eyes trace a path from hers to her mouth, to her breasts where they lingered, before traveling down her legs to her boots. And then back up. She licked her lips with nervousness when they got back to her face.

“In fact, I’d be hard pressed to find a prettier girl here tonight.” His eyes never left her face, and she knew in her heart he wasn’t even looking at other girls. He finished his beer and set the bottle down before tracing his finger down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. When he got to her hand, he clasped her fingers in his and raised them to his lips, breathing warm air on them. “What are you doing later? After the show?”

Renae tried to get her hand back, but he held on. “I don’t-”

“I just want to get to know you a little better.” He kissed her hand before placing it back in her lap. “I think you are the bright spot I need in my life right now.”

The words
right now
brought the feelings of deflation back. He wasn’t going to be here forever. He was just here for two weeks. Then he’d be gone. What would getting to know him do for her?

“You still have time to decide. We’ve got another set to play, and it’s time. Don’t leave without giving me your number though, please?”