BornontheBayou (14 page)

“Hello?” Agitation had stopped her from checking the number.

“Ms. Christmas? James Bell here.”

“Oh right, hello.” Better to start now. “I’m so sorry I left
you at Great Oaks, but I hope the new manager is shaping up.”

“Yes, he is. That was what I wanted to discuss with you.
He’s so good, we’d like to keep him at the house. He’s a family man and he sees
the posting as a way of putting down roots, since there’s a good school nearby,
and he’s happy to stay on. But you took leave, and we rescinded the termination
of your contract, so you’re still technically our employee.”

“Would you like me to resign? Formally, I mean?”

“Not if we can help it.” That shocked her into temporary
silence, enough to allow James to explain. “I’ve been looking over your work at
Great Oaks and I’m impressed. You took on the project and brought it to a
satisfactory conclusion. You liaised with everyone from the heritage people to
the construction workers and kept them on schedule and on your side.” Except
for Rebennac. But she didn’t regret that.

“But the chef—”

“I consider that matter closed. Besides, your—ah—friend,
Chick Fontaine came up with an excellent replacement. A man who has awards for
his Cajun-style cooking but can also do excellent classic French cuisine. And
is less, shall we say, temperamental. In a way, you did us a favor, since the
chef we wanted wouldn’t have stayed long.”

Wow. She’d have to thank Chick. She’d send him a text. Now
James had started, he was determined to finish, it seemed. “We’d like you to
stay on, but we don’t have an opening right now. What I suggest is that you
extend your leave for, say, a month, and then I’m pretty sure I’ll have a new
position for you. One of our biggest hotels in Seattle is losing a deputy
manager. It would give you a chance to work under one of our best managers and
learn the trade. Would that be acceptable?”

She swallowed. Seattle. The band wasn’t due to play there,
she was sure, and in any case, she could avoid them if they did. Even if they
stayed at the Bell’s hotel there. “That’s very kind of you. I need to get home for
a while, so the extended leave would give me time.” To be upbeat and tell her
parents she’d found something else to do. To tell them the affair with Jace
Beauchene hadn’t worked out.

Why should she leave him?

So many reasons, but they boiled down to two possibilities,
neither of which she found acceptable. She wouldn’t follow him from venue to
venue, always afraid he’d take up with someone else when she wasn’t there, her
whole life dependent on him. That would turn her into some kind of pathetic
groupie and, although she adored him, she respected herself too much to descend
into that kind of existence. She wanted a life of her own. Had he said that
about fucking anyone after a show to keep her with him, or did he mean it? If
he did, she didn’t want any of it.

On the other hand, if Jace followed through and decided to
leave the band for her, she’d be seen by fans as responsible for shattering
what she believed would be one of the most influential and exciting bands
around, and destroying the pleasure of millions of people. She wouldn’t do that
either. He hadn’t given her the choice, he’d just told her he was doing it, not
asked for her opinion. As if she didn’t have one, or that he didn’t want to
hear it.

Madness even to imagine any possible future with this
impossible man. Walking away from the man she loved would be hard, but at least
she had something to walk to.

Chapter Twelve

“Where is she?” Half dressed, Jace erupted into the lounge
of the main suite, finger-combing hair out of his eyes.

Several women he couldn’t recall meeting before sat on the
main sofa on either side of Riku, who grinned at him smugly. “These are mine,
man. You don’t get to do more than shake their hands. You mean Beverley? Not
seen her.”

“I have.” Chick stood in the doorway of one of the bedrooms.
He beckoned to him. “She left you a note.”

“Fuck.” Jace strode across to the bedroom. Chick closed it
behind them. He’d set this room up as a temporary office, as he did most of his
hotel bedrooms. His large, top-of-the-line laptop lay leering and glaring on
the desk he’d probably had brought in here, and several scribbled sticky notes
littered the surface and the mirror next to it.

Chick handed him a note. “She came past at three a.m.,
wheeling her little case, so I stopped her. She said she was needed at home.
That true?”

Surely she’d have woken him? He ripped open the envelope and
scanned the note.

Jace,

I didn’t want to leave this by the bed, too cliché, but I
needed to explain.

I can’t let you do this. You can’t leave the band, they need
you too much. You need them, you know you do, deep down. And how about all
those other people you make a difference to, the people who love your music?
You’d be walking out on them too.

And I won’t follow you like some pathetic groupie, always
scared you’ll find somebody else. I deserve better than that.

I’m going home to see my parents. I decided what I
wanted, Jace. I like organizing, so that’s what I’m going to do. It’s just
organizing my own life I’m finding hard right now.

I’ll write properly. I meant what I said.

Beverley

It told him everything he’d been afraid of since he’d woken
to find the space next to him cold and abandoned. “She’s left me. Says she
can’t let me do it.” He wouldn’t mention the other part. He was already deeply
ashamed of saying it. He wasn’t some kid who couldn’t keep his dick in his
pants, like when he first started out in the music business. Maybe he’d wanted
to test her, to see how she’d take it, or maybe he’d gotten cold feet. Either
way, it had been utterly fucking stupid to say it.

“Do what?”

“Leave the band.”

Chick stared at him, mouth in a thin line. “Too fucking
right she can’t. You were going to leave us mid-tour?”

“Only when you’d found somebody to replace me. One of the
session musicians could sit in for a while. And there are a few—”

“Stop right there. Nobody can replace you. You saw what
happened when Maxx left. The band nearly broke up. If it wasn’t for Riku, Zazz
and V, you’d have been yesterday’s news. What makes you think Murder City
Ravens would survive you leaving?”

“It survived Maxx.”

“Because he had serious fucking problems.” Chick struck his
palm with each point, then stood with hands on hips, facing him down. “Fuck,
you all did. You needed that break. But now you’re on a roll. Tell me you hate
it. Tell me you hate going on that fucking stage and hearing thirty thousand
people baying your name and loving your music. Tell me you hate the creation
sessions, or whatever the fuck you call them. Tell me you hate the other
members of the band.” He glared. Jace glared back but stayed silent. “You
can’t, can you? So why does she say she’s left you?”

“She doesn’t want me to leave the band. Says she doesn’t
want that responsibility, that we wouldn’t last if I did that to her.” He made
a noise of disgust. “What did she tell you?”

“I didn’t ask, she didn’t say, other than she needed to see
her folks. Got her a ticket to London like she wanted.” He motioned to the
laptop. “I was online at the time.”

“What? You bastard, why did you do that?” He could kill his
manager right now. He wanted to try. Fuck, he wanted to hit something, even if
it was just the wall. Or Chick. It would probably have the same effect on both
of them. “You could have talked to her, persuaded her to stay.”

Chick clicked his tongue. “Don’t do that. You’ll damage your
guitar-playing hand. And your piano-playing hand.”

“It’s the same hand,” he growled.

“No shit.” Unimpressed, Chick turned back to his laptop.
“Sounds as if she knows you better than you know yourself. You can’t put all
that crap on her. And you can’t leave the band either. You feel too strongly
about it.”

“What, I love it best?” He put on a sneering tone, but as he
said it, he felt it. More than everything else, except for one thing. One
person. “I didn’t promise her forever, but I wanted to give what we have a fair
chance.”

“And you
told
her, you didn’t
ask
.” He glanced
up from the laptop. “Didn’t you?”

Realization hit Jace like a stone. “Shit. I fucked up,
didn’t I?”

“And then some.” Chick folded his arms, tucking his hands
under his armpits. “No woman likes being told what to do. What do you plan to
do about it? You know we have another show tomorrow night?”

That made him pause. “We do?”

“Yeah. Arshavan had a two-nighter going and they’ve let us
have both nights. I gotta pay them a percentage, but I took the amount right
down, so it’s worth it. Once they realized we could fill the big venues, the
others have come knocking.” He glanced at the screen and then back at Jace. “I
did my best for you.” He started typing, and didn’t speak until he’d done at
least a paragraph. How a man with such huge hands could type so fast never
failed to amaze Jace, but maybe practice worked as well for typing as it did
for guitars. “Her flight left at seven a.m., but it has a fuck of a layover in
Charlotte. As far as she’s concerned, it was the only flight I could find at
that time in the morning at short notice. Are you game for a chase?”

Chick had come through again. Jace didn’t have to think
about it. “Sure. Find me a flight.”

Chick leaned back and grinned. “I can do better than that,
my man. Put some clothes on and get back here. I’ll have a couple of letters
ready for you. Then I’ll send word to the airport. On condition you get back
for the concert. You fail me there, we fall out, you hear?”

Jace knew the voice of authority when he heard it.
“Absolutely.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Running out on me?”

At first Beverley thought she was hearing voices in her
head. She’d imagined everything he’d said to her on the way here, cherishing
each and every word, not knowing if she’d ever hear him again for real. But she
didn’t remember this one.

Then she looked up and nearly dropped her e-reader.

Correction, she did drop it but he caught it before it hit
the ground.

The waiting area for her gate was full, so she’d settled for
propping herself against a nearby pillar for an hour after wandering around the
small airport one more time and looking for something other than burgers or
sandwiches to eat. She’d been here hours already and she had as long to wait
again.

She swallowed, staring in disbelief at the man standing
before her. He looked royally pissed and honestly, she’d expected him to be
that way. What she hadn’t expected was to see it in person. “What are you doing
here?”

He glared at her. “Guess.”

Someone behind him said, “Hey, are you—?”

“No,” he said.

The girl went away, casting a dirty look at the handsome man
waiting for an answer from Beverley.

“So?” she said. “I meant what I said in the letter I left
for you. You saw it?”

“Yes.”

She couldn’t say much, but she was saying goodbye. As if all
this, her affair with Jace, going backstage with a rock band, was a dream she’d
had, one she’d had for a week or so, and best forgotten. It wouldn’t happen
again and she would remember it forever.

Except it was happening now, he was drawing her in all over
again, trying to persuade her this was real without saying anything. Those
eyes, so blue, so clear, drinking her in as if she were all he wanted to see.

Another girl approached. “Let’s walk,” she said, not wanting
a scene.

“Good plan.”

She grabbed her case, or would have had he not got to it
first. He gave her the reader back and she stowed it in her bag, tucking it
next to the purse containing her English money. “I’m leaving for London.”

“If you want to, that’s where we’ll go, but I’m hoping I can
persuade you to come back with me. Chick will skin me alive if I don’t return
in time for the gig tomorrow night. Not that I give a fuck.”

“I do,” she said before she could censor herself. “I don’t
want you hurt.”

“Too late.” He glanced at her and when he did, she saw it,
aching and raw, agony etched deep in his eyes. “You ran away.”

“I didn’t.” They headed up the line of gates, passing people
who stared at them, either because Jace was hot or because they recognized him.
Or both, of course.

“Yes you did. Ran. You did it before, didn’t you? When you
found you couldn’t cook anymore, you ran as far as you could.”

She wasn’t about to tell him he was right. Not yet. But
everything he said was hitting home, making her recognize the hard truths he
was telling her. She
had
run, although she didn’t see it like that at
the time.

“Then, when you can’t talk to me, or feel you can’t, you run
again.” He stopped in the middle of the concourse and turned the wheeled case
so he could face her. “What made you think you couldn’t stay?”

“You gave me your decision as a done deal. You didn’t ask
me, you didn’t talk to me or discuss it with me.”

He studied her, scanned her face with a loving affection
that threatened to break her apart. “I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t want
you trying to change my mind because it meant too much to me. So are you still
running?”

She shrugged. “Bell’s offered me a job. It’s a great
opportunity. I have more leave, because the incumbent is working out his
notice. So I could go home and see my parents first.”

“They’ll see you soon enough. If you come with me on tour,
we’re getting to London later in the year.”

She stared at him doubtfully. “You still want me?” Her hand
was still in her bag. She fingered the wallet containing her passport and boarding
pass. “I wouldn’t. I wanted you to hate me.”

“Hate you? How can I do that when I love you so much?”

Taking an involuntary step back, she looked away, at the
woman standing behind the desk, ready to announce passengers for the flight
to—Amsterdam, the flight board said. She was staring at them, smiling. She’d
heard and she was blatantly staring, a faint sentimental smile creasing her
lips.

Beverley hated public scenes when she was at the center of
them, but few had come her way before now. “You’re just saying that.”

He stepped forward and took her free hand. “No I’m not.
We’ll cope, Beverley. The one thing I can’t bear is if I lose you. I swear I
won’t let that after-show thing get to me.”

“The one where you want to fuck everything in sight?”

“That’s the one.”

She’d hoped to shock him but he didn’t seem in the least
fazed or uncertain. Instead, he dropped her hand and glanced in the direction
she was looking. “Let’s make sure, shall we? Stay here.” He pinned her with a
warning glance. “If you go, I’ll hunt you down again.”

With swift strides, he went to the desk and grabbed the mic
the woman had just switched on, its hum evident above the quiet chat going on
around them. “I want to make an announcement.”

At least he’d used a localized mic, so the whole airport
wouldn’t hear him. Only the hundred or two people lingering in this area.

More, after he’d started to sing. Although Jace didn’t do
lead for Murder City Ravens, he sang backup and his face had become better
known than before, even outside the ever-increasing band of fans. He had a
sweet, rich voice, a light baritone.

You turned my world hot and cold,

You made me think too much, too strong,

Until I wanted to turn my face against the wall and die.

Not immediately romantic lyrics. Except to her, because she
knew what he meant. She’d made him face things he needed to examine before he
could find peace. When he sang it, she realized he’d done the same thing for
her. Persuaded her that life didn’t begin and end in a kitchen, that she could
do more with her life than just survive.

He sang only a verse, and then he handed the mic back to the
woman with a smile, before the security guys could reach him. She frowned, then
glanced at him and smiled, and the audience applauded.

Jace came back to her.

“Cheesy,” she said.

“Yeah. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He didn’t take her back to her gate. Instead he led her
away, to another part of the airport where a small plane stood waiting on the
tarmac. “You have to climb the steps to this one,” he said.

“You didn’t charter this, did you?” She couldn’t believe
he’d do that.

He shrugged, spread his hands wide, her case resting at his
feet. “I wish I could say I did. But no, Chick decided we needed one for the
rest of the American part of the tour, and it was on its way from Chicago. It
has another passenger onboard. So are you coming?”

She hesitated, wanting one thing clear. “You don’t just
expect me to fall in line? It’s not an order?”

He shook his head. “Baby, I’m asking. As humbly as I know
how. We can talk onboard, but we have to get in the air soon or we’ll miss our
slot. Tell you what, if you still want to go to London, we’ll go first class on
the next available flight. How’s that?”

Reluctantly, she smiled, and then found how easy smiling
could be when he smiled back. “It sounds like a deal.”

Inside the plane, they found comfort and ease. And a
dark-haired man, a shade taller than Jace, who shook her hand and introduced
himself as Matt, then glared at Jace. “You were cutting it close, man. We’d
have hours before the next slot. If they let us have it. Fuck, it’s fine for
you, but with this little delay, I don’t get to see V for hours after I
planned.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” The men exchanged a hug and much
back-slapping ensued.

Matt had a seat in a comfortable lounge area furnished with
long, squashy sofas and a polished hardwood floor with thick, soft rugs under
their feet. She’d hardly know they were on a plane at all except for the small
windows looking out on to the runway.

Matt grinned. “Things going good for you, I see.”

Jace drew her forward. “This is Beverley, the woman I love.
Beverley Christmas. Beverley, this is Matt Scott, who used to be Maxx
Syccorraxx.”

Not for the first time, she saw someone’s eyes widen when
their owner heard her name, but her eyes widened too. Not at her name but her
description. Matt gave an easy grin and held out his hand. “Welcome, woman Jace
loves. About time too.”

They shook hands. Beverley saw the openness in his face and
liked this man instinctively. Maybe she should give her instincts freer rein
because so far they hadn’t guided her wrong. The only other place she’d used
them to effect had been in the kitchen, especially when working out a display
scheme for a new dish.

Another shock. For the first time she didn’t feel a pang of
grief when she thought about her work as a chef. Just a touch of nostalgia.

Jace helped her fasten one of the seat belts tucked behind
the sofa cushions, then fastened himself in next to her, taking her hand. “This
is incredible,” she said, looking around.

“It is, isn’t it?” said Jace, looking at her.

After takeoff, the flight attendant came through to ask them
if they needed anything. Matt, by then busy with his laptop at one of the
tables, asked for a coffee. Beverley refused. She could hardly breathe, much
less eat, overwhelmed by the decision she’d just made. Jace had turned her life
completely around, but he hadn’t done it forcefully, except for that last
decision when she’d felt her life spiraling out of her control.

As soon as she’d unfastened her seat belt, Jace tugged her
to her feet and headed for the back of the plane. He opened one door to reveal
a shower room. The shower looked small. He glanced at her, his eyebrow quirked.
“Interesting. But no. Not yet, anyhow.”

Across the narrow hallway lay a bedroom. Compact, but with a
bed big enough for two. Jace dragged her inside and closed the door. Beverley
sat on the bed since there didn’t seem to be anywhere else to sit, but that
didn’t last long. He leaned over her and kissed her, urging her to lie back.
Willingly, she did so.

He didn’t stop until they both lay on the bed. “I thought
I’d never get to do that again,” she said. She stared at him, knowing now how
much harder it would have been than she’d imagined.

“You will. More and more. We’ll have plenty of time to do
that.” He cupped her face, the calluses developed from playing metal strings
rubbing against her cheek in a sexy rasp. She’d come to welcome that touch,
recognizing it as his even waking from sleep.

“What do we do now?”

“We’ve got a couple of hours.” Already he was undressing
her, urging her to sit so he could pull her T-shirt over her head and reach
around her to unclip her bra. But she wouldn’t let him have it all his own way.
She pulled at his clothing, getting him to shed his jacket and that oh so
conservative top to reveal the so unconservative body underneath.

While he worked on her, she leaned forward and sucked his
nipple, drawing the little ring into her mouth and tugging on it gently. He
paused, gasped. “Oh that feels so fucking good.”

It did to her too, but she couldn’t tell him. She had her
mouth full. She moved to the other, sucking and stroking as he did to her
sometimes. He tasted tangy, and a flavor that was essentially Jace. He meant so
much to her that she’d run scared when she realized it. That was the truth he’d
made her acknowledge. The great, aching loss she’d felt the farther she’d gone
away from him wouldn’t have gone away like she kept telling herself it would.

This time she wanted him helpless, wanted to prove to herself
that she could drive him crazy. So topless, and with her jeans dragged down to
her hips, she unzipped and pushed his jeans out of the way and then his boxers,
sliding them carefully over the hard knob at the top of his erection. It
gleamed in the light, inviting her to taste. She didn’t disappoint, but licked
it as if it were a large lollipop. His body shuddered and a series of sighs and
groans left his lips. He cupped the back of her head, guiding her to take him
fully into her mouth.

She had to open wide, but she sucked him in as deep as she
could. He tasted of heaven, or perhaps Jace
was
her heaven. The scent of
fresh male musk surrounded her, seeped into her being. She shoved his boxers
farther down and cupped his balls, massaging them in time with her sucking. She
couldn’t take much more than his cock head, but she did her best with the rest,
spreading her knees for better balance so she could use her other hand to grasp
him and work him.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

When she did, his avid stare blazed into her, setting up a
connection deeper and more resonant than anything that had come before. She
paused, then resumed what she was doing, sucking hard enough to make her cheeks
hollow. “You’re so beautiful like that,” he said. “Oh fuck, you’re incredible.”

He crooned encouragement, told her what to do, what he
liked. “Lick around that flange at the top. Oh yes, baby, so good, I’m so
sensitive there. But I want to touch you, push my fingers right inside you. Are
you wet for me, sweetheart? Show me. Do what I can’t.”

Reluctantly she released his balls and slid her hand down
her body. She longed for someone to touch her and if he couldn’t, she’d have to
do it herself.

She got some ease until she saw his face. Rubbing her
fingers down her crease to lubricate them, she dipped briefly inside and
returned to tweak her clit, the fastest way to satisfaction. His expression
nearly made it even faster. His lips were drawn taut, his gaze burning into
her, watching what she was doing to herself, going back to what she was doing
to him.