Chasing Kane (11 page)

Soon, we found ourselves at a club that looked like an old movie theater from the front—it very well may have been once—but was wide open on the inside, and packed wall-to-wall with hot, grinding bodies. And, because luck in these places is rarely on my side, the bar was smack dab in the middle of it all.

“Well,” Georgia sighed, sounding playfully resigned as we scanned the crowd, “let’s go get sweaty.”

She took my hand and led me through the writhing crowd that was twerking along to PitBull and Jennifer Lopez. Despite her generally loathsome attitude toward club life, Georgia was able to make herself at home fast. Balancing on fairly high shiny red heels, she swayed her hips back and forth in time with the music, weaving us masterfully through the crowd. Not only did I have the best view in the house from behind her, but I got to watch as nearly every man in the crowd, some probably ten years younger than us, gawked at her as she walked by. Almost every one of them. Some for a second, some for far longer—enough to earn swift elbows to the side from their girlfriends.

It would bother the hell out of some guys to have a wife that garnered this much attention—and it
does
bother G when the roles are reversed and I’m ever the center of lewd glances—but it doesn’t upset me one bit. She’s stunning. Beautiful, sexy, and masterfully in control of it all. She knows it and works it, even if she doesn’t always believe it deep down. And, she’s mine.

“Two vodka sodas,” she called across the bar, up on her toes and leaning dangerously close to the bartender. Certainly using her breasts to our advantage in an effort to be served before the dozen or so people who were there first.

He gave her a swift once-over and got straight to business as if the other customers didn’t exist. He handed her our drinks, and when she turned to hand me mine, the bartender caught sight of me and his face lit up.

“You’re Regan Kane!” he shouted over the crowd, inevitably drawing attention from some people around us. Ones who didn’t know me quickly took out their phones and, undoubtedly, Googled me.

I nodded, air-toasting him. “I am. Thanks for the drink, man.”

He extended his hand across the bar, and I leaned in to complete the handshake. “My girlfriend is a
huge
fan of yours. I’m texting her to get her down here. Bet she won’t complain about this job after tonight.”

Georgia opened her mouth wide and let out a full-bellied laugh. “Well when she gets here, we’ll be out there.” She gestured to the dance floor and led me away.

I never had to actually
do
much when Georgia and I went dancing, since she had enough moves for the both of us. Tonight would have been no different, but I put some effort in. If I couldn’t be making love to my wife in the hotel room, I’d do a PG-13 version on the dance floor.

“Brought your moves tonight, Kane?” she breathed heavily, those high heels of her not tripping her up one bit.

I pulled her close. “I want you, Mrs. Kane. Badly.

She let out a low moan I could only feel with my lips against her throat. “I asked you not to call me that.”

My lips grazed across her neck. “But that’s who you are.”

“Is CJ chasing Nessa?” she asked into my ear.

“How romantic,” I teased.

Georgia rolled her eyes, grinning. “I’m serious.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I’m not … in charge of anyone. Why? You’re really shaken up about Frankie, huh?”

She nodded, looking lost for a moment. “They’d been doing so well.
He’d
been doing so well. Do you think he got scared? Cold feet?”

“It’s hard to say with CJ. Frankie was the longest I’d ever seen him with anyone. I didn’t think he
did
relationships.” Despite our semi-serious conversation, we never lost beat with the music. Georgia turned her back to me, grinding against me and speaking over her shoulder.

“He didn’t. Until her. After they’d been together six months I thought maybe she was a stepping-stone to his budding adulthood, which would have been progress. After two years I figured they were as good as betrothed. I think she did, too.” She faced me again, worry still in her eyes. “Is life on the road
that
good? To risk an entire relationship?”

I sighed, feeling the weight of her question. Her
real
question.
Would you ever do to me what he’s done to her?

“It’s horrible,” I admitted, half-serious. “The road or you? I’d choose you every time.”

Half her mouth flicked up into a grin. “I’d never make you choose.”

Playfully biting her shoulder, I answered, “And I love you for it.”

With conversation seemingly transitioning away from Frankie, CJ, and his many potential conquests, Georgia and I found ourselves lost in the music for several songs. The DJ was working it hard tonight, a statement I wouldn’t have said before meeting real-life professional DJ’s a few years ago. Willow Shaw, signed under GSE as well, is the half-sister to Ember. She mainly works between San Diego and Napa Valley, and she works hard. Mixes insane sets designed to do just what Georgia and I were doing—connect, forget, get lost.

A sheen of sweet sweat laced Georgia’s chest. I was going to lose it right here in the club if I didn’t move soon.

“We have to go,” I growled into her ear. “Now.”

Georgia pinched her bottom lip between her teeth, arching an eyebrow. “Let’s go.”

As we wandered off the dance floor, the bartender called after us, distressed that his girlfriend hadn’t showed up yet to meet me. I told him to have her come to our show tomorrow and give them my name. He promised she would, and told me her name was Amy and she had long, red hair in case anyone asked.

Out of the corner of my eye on the way out of the club, I caught sight of CJ and Nessa in conversation near the bathrooms. Her back was against the wall and he was in front of her, one hand on the wall to the side of her shoulder propping himself up.

“We’re out,” I called to them, only eliciting slight waves from both of them.

“Looks like he was selling her hard,” Georgia remarked rather glumly as we walked down the sidewalk. “Does she like
know
about Frankie? Other than what I said at the restaurant?”

I shook my head. “Not unless he told her. She asked me if he had a girlfriend and I didn’t really answer.”

This earned me a smack to the side of my arm.

“God! What?” I laughed, rubbing the sore spot.

“You could have told her about Frankie.”

My eyes widened and I laughed. “Tell her about
his
ex-girlfriend? What sense does that make?”

“Like five-seconds ex,” she grumbled.

“What difference does that make? Ex is ex, isn’t it?”

She looked at me like I had two heads, stopping in her tracks. “Seriously?”

I mimicked her look. “Seriously. What the hell business is it of hers when he broke up with anyone? If two adults break up, and stay broken up for more than a day or two it’s probably a real breakup right?” My pre-Georgia life wouldn’t have included the two-day window, but she “enlightened” me—as she likes to call it.

Georgia crossed her arms in front of her and huffed.

“Look,” I said, soft as I took her hand and resumed our walk. “I know we’re all protective of CJ on one level or another. But he’s an adult, God help us, and so is Nessa. And … wait … wait …”

“What?” Georgia slowed down to stay in step with me.

“At dinner … did you say Frankie broke up with CJ? I thought …” I shook my head, trying to arrange the details I thought I knew. “Didn’t he dump her before he came out to California?”

Georgia nodded. “That’s what he told us. I didn’t talk to Frankie until a few days later, and she set me straight. Our boy got canned.”

“But I don’t … understand why.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Because he … he questioned their relationship. He was basically asking for six months of free passes from her so she kicked his ass out.”

“Is that what he said?”

“No, it’s what he meant,” Georgia answered definitively.

“Out? Were they living together?”

Georgia rolled her eyes and started walking toward the hotel again. “It’s just an expression. And, basically. He’d been staying at her house almost every night.”

“So … how does this change things as far as CJ’s wild oats-sewing goes this summer?

“Because they still love each other.”

“This makes my head hurt. Maybe they love each other, but CJ appears to be going through something right now. And if Frankie wants—”

“What? If Frankie wants what, fidelity?”

I growled. “This isn’t even our business!” I exclaimed with as much humor as I could, because I didn’t want to ruin my plans for the hotel. And, because it really
was
none of our business.

“I’m just saying,” Georgia stated, regaining composure, “Frankie’s devastated and CJ’s acting out. With all kinds of women.”

“I haven’t even seen him go off with anyone,” I mentioned in passing.

Which was enough to stop Georgia in her tracks.

“Come on.” I tugged her hand. “We’ll never get back to the room at this rate.”

She followed, but worked out her theory as we walked. “He still loves her.”

“I’m sure he does. They were together for a long time, and you don’t just fall out of love with people, regardless of the circumstances.”

“I mean he’s still actually
in
love with her. You haven’t seen him with anyone?” she questioned, brightly.

“Don’t,” I pleaded. “Don’t go telling Frankie all this. I know how you women are.”

A sheepish grin spread across her mouth, but her eyes stayed dangerous as always. “I won’t.”

I squeezed her hand. “Seriously. G. Their relationship is
none
of our business.”

Finally, she sighed. “Fine.”

I didn’t believe her. Still, I let it go. We were standing in front of the hotel room and I only had one thing left on my mind.

***

“Mmm,” Georgia purred, her legs wrapped around me while I was still inside her. “I missed you.”

Kissing her collarbone I inhaled deeply, savoring her scent. “You feel good.”

She slid her hands to my bare backside. Pulling me into her a little deeper even though we were finished. It felt like being home, there on the bed on top of her and inside her at the same time. Maybe I wasn’t quite finished, after all.

I moved my hips, picking up steam as I nipped and kissed at her breasts, loving the way her back arched, pushing her breasts toward me as her head tilted back.

“I love you,” I half-moaned.

“I love you.” She was breathless in an instant. “I need you.”

Maybe this baby-making thing wouldn’t be so bad.

And, I should have kept that thought to myself. I learned quickly that some jokes are
not
for the bedroom.

“You just need me for my potent sperm,” I joked.

Joked.

Idiot.

This stopped Georgia cold. She pressed her hands against my shoulders, eyeing me seriously. “What?”

I chuckled. “Come on, G. I was just playing.”

“You think I came up here for that?”

“No.” I shook my head. “You came up here because we’re married and I’m on tour and you missed me. We’re making love because we love each other.”

I bent down to kiss her, but she turned her head, pushing my shoulders back slightly. “Then why would you say that?”

“I was kidding.” And, I was panicking that this was turning into a whole
thing
.

She shifted her hips to the side, silently telling me to get out and off. I complied, rolling over and pulling her to me. She’d already turned her back, so I was forced to talk to her shoulder.

“What’s this really about?” I asked.

“Why can’t you ever take what I say at face value? I don’t always speak in code, you know. I’m not trying to trick you into anything.”

I sighed, heavy. “Georgia, I was just teasing. What the hell?”

She sat up, facing me with betrayal in her eyes. “It’s not
funny
Regan. I know we only started
officially
trying like two months ago, but we stopped being careful months before that.”

“And?”

“And I’m not pregnant yet. Something’s wrong with me.” She threw the covers off her, picking my button-down shirt off the floor and draping it across her back.

Shit.

Sliding to the edge of the bed, I failed to reach her before she stepped away and paced to the window, pulling the curtains open slightly to stare at the sparse nightlife going on six-stories below us.

Before going after her, I watched her for a moment. Dim moonlight mixed with yellow streetlights reflecting from below highlighted her pale face. Her sad eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said, taking the sheet with me and wrapping it around the both of us when I reached her at the window.

Just beyond the borders of the city was a small strip of green forest with the thick tall shadows of trees. On the other side of that forest was the icy shore of the northern Pacific Ocean. An ocean where Georgia had always centered herself. Her bakery was so close to the shore in San Diego that it was nearly
in
it. She knew she was always half of a natural disaster away from commercial devastation, but the freedom of the waves was too great a benefit to pass up, she always said.

“Why?” she asked, unmoving as if talking to the window.

I sighed. “I don’t think I realized how … how much this was affecting you.”

“Because it’s not your body,” she said calmly, without a hint of cynicism.

“I guess,” I admitted. “But you’re my wife, and when you get pregnant—”

“If,” she cut off.

“
When
you get pregnant,” I continued, “it will be
our
baby. And while you are busy growing it, I’ll be busy pampering you. So, no, your body isn’t
my
body,” I gave her shoulders a squeeze, “but it kind of is. You’re my wife. The soon-to-be mother of our child.”

With that, her shoulders sank and she let out a long, cleansing sigh that showed me she was backing down from what could have been a spectacular fight.

“
I’m
sorry,” she said, finally facing me, tilting her head far back to look me in the eyes. “God,” she said with a chuckle, “if I’m this emotional now, imagine what I’ll be like with pregnancy hormones?”