Love Revolution (Black Cat Records Shakespeare Inspired trilogy) (10 page)

“I haven’t done anything with the place.” JR shrugged. “I’m really not here that often. Maybe you could help me spruce it up a bit.” He came up behind her and turned her around gently before lowering his mouth to hers.

The kiss he gave her was short and sweet just like the one he had given her back in the hallway at Sutton, and though it made her toes curl, it wasn’t nearly enough. Sam wanted a replay of the deep soul shattering one from the night before. Wanting to determine if her memory had exaggerated the experience, she reached up her hands and twined them together behind his neck. She pulled his face back down to hers. Boldly she pressed her lips to his and traced his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.

JR groaned, crushed her to his chest, and began an all- out conquest of her mouth. When they pulled apart, his breathing was just as labored as hers.

Smiling a sexy grin, he tapped her on the nose and shook his head. “Hey, we do that again and I’ll lose all interest in getting you fed.” He moved into the kitchen, motioning for her to take a seat on one of the barstools. “Make yourself comfortable. You’ll be my muse. I want to cook for you.”

JR was a Food Channel addict. The admitted foodie was as picky about what he ate as he was about what he wore. She had teased him relentlessly about it. “You really do cook?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, baby.” He winked. “In the kitchen, too…when I can. You ok with steak again? I’ve got tenderloin.”

“Absolutely.” She grinned. “I’m from Texas. We eat steak for breakfast.”

JR started pulling out pots and pans. His kitchen was decked out with all the latest high end stainless steel appliances. He set out a small pan and a skillet on the gas cooktop before putting a couple of filets on the counter to bring them up to room temperature. Then he started prepping for a sauce to go on top of them. As he worked, he peppered her with questions about college.

“I wish I had gone,” he admitted. “At least long enough so I would know more about the financial side of the music business. I’ve learned a little over the years but not near enough. A lot of the time I just have to go on faith and trust what the lawyers tell me.”

“I never would have thought a rock star would have any regrets about something like that.” She cocked her head to the side. “From the outside looking in, anyone would think you had a dream life.”

“I do have regrets.” He gave her a serious look. “And I don’t consider myself a rock star. I’m a musician.” He was silent a moment, head bowed as he shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano over a couple of Caesar salads. After the introspective pause, he continued, “How’d you decide on your major?”

“Because of Sara’s career, I’ve seen how important the PR side of business is. I always knew it was something I wanted to do.” She trailed off. “Did you always know what you wanted to do?”

“Yeah.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed… but I’m kinda ADD. I don’t take medicine anymore for it like I did in grade school, but drumming was… is a good way to burn off extra energy. Although, there are also some other ways.” He crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”

Sam eagerly complied, hopping down off the stool and stepping around the counter to meet him in the kitchen. She went up on tiptoes, tilting her face up to his for another searing but short kiss.

“Here,” he said, stepping back and handing her a wire whisk. “Could you stir while I pour?”

“Sure,” she replied, voice catching as he moved to stand with his body flush right behind her. His warm body bracketed hers. He reached his arms around either side of her. She leaned back against his chest.
Who knew cooking could be such a sensual activity?

JR grinned when he heard Sam sigh. This sweet, beautiful girl made him feel like he was king of the world. It was a heady feeling. He inhaled deeply, already addicted to the intoxicating strawberry fragrance of her shampoo. Stepping to the side, he instructed, “Keep stirring while I do the steaks.”

Sam continued whisking; sneaking an occasional glance at him as he first seasoned then seared the tenderloins. She loved the view of his long legs in his jeans. The way the pockets on his Diesels hung low and clung to his rear end made her face flush. Letting out a shaky breath, she forced her eyes up before blurting out the question that worried her most. “John…why me?”

“What?” He turned, tawny brows drawing together over his puzzled green eyes.

“All those pictures of you with different women on the internet…” Her voice rose. “You could be with anyone at all…anyone you wanted.” She looked away from him, covering her flaming cheeks with her hands, wishing now that she had never brought it up.

JR cursed under his breath, turned off the burner and moved the pan to the back of the stovetop all in one smooth motion. He turned to face her. His expression was dark but his movements gentle as he ran the back of his fingers down the side of her cheek.

“Sam,” he breathed, tipping her chin back and gazing into her grey eyes that were glassy with unshed tears. “Oh, Samantha.” He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. He repeated her question. The one he found so totally asinine. “It would take a lifetime to list all the reasons why. For starters, you are the sweetest person I’ve ever met. You’re intuitive and bright and beautiful.” He stared at her with an intensity that made it hard for her to breathe while softly tracing a silky curl around his finger. “Yes, I’ve been around… long enough to know the real deal when I see her standing in front of me.”

Sam eyes widened and her stomach got fluttery at his words. He tucked her face gently into his chest while he held her. She could hear his heart beat thumping loudly beneath her ear as the embrace lingered.

When he finally released her, he rocked back on his heels to look at her. “Sam, this thing with us, the way I feel about you, it scares the hell out of me. I’ve never felt this way before.” He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips, once, then twice, his green eyes burning into hers. “Never.”

Frowning, Sara strode purposefully down the corridor at Black Cat, her boots trodding soundlessly over the carpeted runner. Its grey color matched her disposition. Conflicting thoughts clattered around loudly inside her head. She was not in the mood to deal with Chris again so soon after “the kiss.”

The kiss wasn’t something she’d been able to get out of her mind. He’d gotten to her, alright, but he didn’t have to seem so damn proud about it. And so what if she treated him a little harshly afterward. Chris was an adult. He could take it.

Besides, she had other more serious concerns. For one thing, waiting for news about her father’s parole put her on continual edge. Then there was Sam. Though she was warming, however slightly, to the idea of JR dating her sister, there was no changing who he was…the playboy prince of rock ‘n roll royalty, Brutal Strength.

Sighing, she tried to rub the tension from her stiff neck. Sam was already beyond head over heels for him. The man could be charming, but he was erratic and unpredictable. She wondered what would happen in a couple of weeks when the band went on tour. He could crush her like a bug with one thoughtless fling with a groupie. Prince to knave in a downbeat.

Sara stuttered and stopped outside recording room four. Though larger than the room she had met Chris in the other day, it was similarly equipped with a soundboard, stacks of amps, a couple of mics, and an old worn out couch seeming out of place in the corner. He was already inside.
Shit.
Straightening her shoulders, she walked in, trying to look unruffled.

“Hey, Sara.” Chris glanced up and beamed his famous smile. “Good to see you.”

Her jaw dropped. Knowing she was tardy for the session, she had been primed for a smart ass comment from him. “Sorry I’m late,” she muttered.

“No problem, Sara… no problem at all.”

He stood, took her guitar case from her hand, and set it down on a side table while she continued to stand there, like a half wit, completely confused by his behavior. Why was he being so polite?

“I’m glad you were able to make it,” he continued, turning back to her and giving her another smile. “Take your time getting warmed up. Do you want me to go get you a soda or something?”

Her brow furrowed. Surely this was a practical joke at her expense, payback for the kiss thing. She turned around in a circle scanning the room, fully expecting someone to jump out and tell her she’d been punked. When no one did, her mind scrambled for more farfetched explanations. She wondered a bit hysterically if Chris’ body had been snatched by an alien. Completely off balance like a hapless protagonist in a
Twilight Zone
episode, Sara staggered over to the couch and sank down onto it. The whole time, she felt Chris’ eyes on her.

“Hey, are you ok?” he asked, touching her arm.

Numbly, she nodded. “I’ll take that soft drink right now, if you’re still offering.”

“Sure. I’ll be right back.” He patted her arm and moved toward the door.

“Ok, I give, Chris.” Curiosity was killing her. He stopped in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder, smiling…again. She wanted to throw something at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she demanded.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked with a shrug before turning away.

Ughh. Enough already. What the hell?
She was actually starting to wish for the return of the sarcastic, flirty, always ready to go toe to toe with her, Chris Alex, instead of this imposter.

“Hey, I like that chord progression,” he commented when he returned a couple of minutes later and found her strumming her rosewood McPherson guitar. She looked so relaxed and had such an intoxicating beauty that his heart skipped a beat. “Is that one of your songs?”

She shook her head.

“No. It’s something I’ve been working on. I thought it sounded right for your album. What do you think?”

He could hardly focus around her. Those expressive grey eyes of hers interfered with higher brain function. That a woman this gorgeous had a crush on him, a forty-four year old has been, it was almost too incredible to be believed. He set the soda down on the small table and took a seat beside her. “Could you play it again,” he said softly, reaching behind her to pluck his Les Paul off the stand. “I want to try something.”

As she played the chords, he added in a complimentary melody on the electric. After a couple of tries, they had the instrumentals where they wanted them.

“Now about the lyrics,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “I think the song will be more commercial if we make it more of a lighthearted take on break ups. Like that achy breaky song, you know, use some word puns.”

“No.” Chris shook his head. “It feels like a ballad to me. The melody is perfect for one. We could write a couple of stanzas about the emotional process you go through when a relationship doesn’t work out.”

“Ok. Hmmm, maybe,” she said pinching the bridge of her nose. “I like the idea, but I can’t concentrate any more. I’m really beat. Can we work on it another day?”

“Sure,” Chris agreed, watching as she packed up her gear. She was extremely graceful for such a tall woman. “Hey, would you…are you going to the Brutal Strength thing tomorrow at the Rickshaw?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Sam wants me to. How about you?”

“I’m going. Maybe I’ll see you there,” he said, giving her an expectant look.

“Yeah, maybe.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Sara, I want to apologize for being such a pain in the ass with you. I really do appreciate you coming up to Vancouver to help me with the album.”

He was apologizing to her? She almost dropped her guitar.
Really. Who the hell was this sensitive guy?
He must have undergone a total lobotomy. It was the only explanation. “It’s not a big deal, Chris. I owed Mary a favor. And really, if anybody has been a pain in the rear, it’s probably been me.” She gave him a furtive glance. “I mean, I thought you would still be mad about the other night,” she finished with her cheeks blushing.

“Mad is not the word I would use.” His brown eyes flashed to hers, practically incinerating her with the heat of his gaze. “Hot as hell, maybe.”