Love's Road Home (14 page)

Liz and Hannah sat closest to him, engaged in a quiet but animated conversation.

He studied them, noting they were both long-legged, with trim, athletic builds. But where Liz had long, wavy, near-black hair, Hannah sported a copper-colored chin-length ’do.

They were attractive women, but neither one of them stirred his senses, his heart, the way
Bethany
did.

Just then Hannah glanced his way and caught his gaze. He gave her a quick smile, not knowing how weak it looked, or how forlorn he appeared.

Hannah spoke briefly to Liz, who nodded in response and pulled a paperback out of her oversized purse. As Liz immersed herself in her book, Hannah came over to Tom.

"Hey, are you doing okay?" She folded a leg beneath her, gracefully dropping onto the sofa beside him. She propped her elbow on the back of the sofa and leaned her head into her hand. It was a casual pose, but her green eyes showed concern. "You don’t look too happy right now. Don’t you think the show went well?"

"No, that’s not it. Everything’s going great."

Hannah’s face softened, and she gave a teasing smile. "So it’s Beth then? She’s what’s making you pout like a two-year-old who’s not allowed to play with his favorite toy?"

Her analogy made him laugh, but he still wanted to be cautious about how much of Beth’s history he told.

"I’m worried about her."

All kidding disappeared from Hannah’s face. "Yeah. She told us about this Eric creep. She wanted us to be on the lookout for him. Not for her own sake, but for ours. Beth said it wasn’t likely he’d show up, but she wanted us to be careful, just in case."

Tom sighed and let his head drop back onto the sofa cushion. "That woman is driving me crazy. She won’t take this threat seriously. She’s more worried about everyone else than she is about herself."

He turned his head to look at Hannah. "If anything happens to her, I’ll lose it. I know I haven’t known her that long, but I really care about her."

Hannah reached out to give a couple friendly pats to his arm. "Love is ignorant of time. You can’t choose when it hits, or how long it will last. You just enjoy it while it’s there."

He wasn’t sure how to reply. He didn’t know if what he felt for Beth was love or not.

And if it was love, he wanted
Bethany
to be the first one he acknowledged it to.

Hannah seemed to understand he needed to think on what she’d said, so she changed the subject.
Sort of.

"I like Beth, too. She’s fun, and smart, and she sings great, too."

Now that was news to Tom.

He loved the sound of Beth’s speaking voice, but just because a person spoke well didn’t mean he or she could sing well, and vice versa. He was intrigued.

"How do you know that?"

Hannah rolled her eyes at him. "I didn’t listen to her singing in the shower, if that’s what you’re thinking."

The imagery her comment conjured up was enough to severely distract Tom.

Beth, in the shower, with water streaming over her body.

The graceful curve of her neck exposed as she leaned into the spray to wet and then lather her thick strands of blonde hair.

Her hands leisurely soaping up every curve and crevice, lingering a bit more in certain sensitive places.

The cascade of water rinsing all the soap bubbles from her skin, with small droplets clinging precariously to protruding areas.

Like her long eyelashes … her pert nose.

Her pale pink nipples.

Tom shifted uncomfortably, hoping that Hannah’s sharp gaze didn’t drop to his lap.

How embarrassing.
And pathetic.

He was hard at just the thought of
Bethany
naked in the shower.

If he found the simple task of her bathing to be erotic, he was afraid to think about her in more outright sexual situations. Like making love with him.

In various positions, various locations.

His groin tightened even more, threatening to cut off his very breath.

He had to refocus his mind, and fast.

Now, what had they been talking about? Oh, yeah. Beth’s singing ability.

"So, how do you know she can sing?" Tom asked as casually as possible. He strived to appear relaxed, and not horny as a thirteen-year-old looking at his first
Playboy
.

Thankfully Hannah’s eyes stayed on his face, but a quick twitch of her lips betrayed her thoughts.

She knew where his mind had gone, damn it. And she’d probably led him in that direction on purpose.

Women.
He loved ’
em
, but he’d never understand ’
em
.

"The answer to that question," the redheaded witch explained, "is that Beth liked to rehearse with us. Nothing formal, but she’d sing along as we practiced our parts. Sometimes she’d do some of the dance moves, too."

Admiration gleamed in her eyes. "Like I said, Beth is sharp. She’s got good range, reads music, and she has the lyrics of the entire set memorized. Not just backing, but the lead vocals, too. Better watch out or she’ll be learning to play guitar next."

Well this was definitely something he wanted to talk to
Bethany
about.

She’d given him the impression that working as a roadie was dead last on her list of job choices. That she was only here because she’d had few options available after the embezzling fiasco.

And she’d claimed when they’d first met that she didn’t even like country music.

So why was it that she was spending precious free time immersed in a musician-
esque
lifestyle?

Perhaps her tastes had changed over the course of the tour, or maybe she just enjoyed interacting with Liz and Hannah.

But why not be up front with him? Why hide the fact that she liked his music, and, in fact, liked to sing?

Was this another thing she was ashamed of for some unknown reason?

He was getting a headache. Trying to discern what went on in
Bethany
’s head was exhausting. Odds were he would never fully understand her, even if he spent the rest of his life trying to figure her out.

But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

•

Beth wasn’t sure what to do.

They were near the halfway point in Roadhouse’s tour, and in less than three weeks she’d be saying goodbye to Tom.

She didn’t want to.

Really, really didn’t want to.

But she knew it had to be done.
For both their sakes.

And since they were running out of time rather quickly, it was doubtful they’d even get the chance to make love before they parted ways.

She would’ve loved to carry that memory with her, but it seemed it wasn’t meant to be.

Beth shifted restlessly in the padded bus seat. She knew she should be using this opportunity to sleep, but even as she forced her eyes closed, her mind refused to shut down.

It wasn’t Eric Sharpe that kept her awake—she really wasn’t worried that he’d show up in her vicinity.

No, Tom Crowley was the one she couldn’t evict from her thoughts.

She remembered how he’d been at dinner in
Macon
. Inquisitive, attentive.
Sweet.

Then later, playing mini golf.
He’d appeared relaxed but had shown a slight competitive streak, too.

And she saw him as he’d appeared a few hours ago on stage. Hot. Sweaty.
Full of energy.

As her brain began to wind down after a long day, those images intertwined and became her ultimate fantasy of late.

Tom stood in front of her as she lay naked on the bed. He’d removed his shirt—or maybe she had done it—but still wore jeans.

Which were unbuttoned and halfway unzipped at his trim waist, baring the trail of crisp, dark hair beneath his
navel.
They were barely hanging on to his narrow hips.

Teasing her.

Tempting her.

She stretched out a hand to pull the offending piece of clothing down, but he shook his head and moved back, out of her reach.

"Not yet," was all he said.

And he continued to look at her.
All of her.

She forced her arm back to her side, her whole body quivering from the intense heat shining in his eyes.

She felt exposed, but energized. This was what she’d been waiting for. To experience Tom, and all he had to offer, in the most intimate ways possible.

"Turn over."

She followed his command without question, using folded arms to cushion her head.

She wasn’t afraid. In fact, she was eager to experience whatever pleasures he had in mind for her.

And then she intended to return the favor.

She jumped at the unexpected touch of his callused fingers on her shoulders. But as the roughened texture of his skin slid over the smoothness of hers, she quickly relaxed again.

Relatively speaking.

She felt the mattress give as Tom moved to straddle her bottom, still massaging her shoulders. Then he pushed her hair to the side, leaned down to press gentle kisses against the sensitive nape of her neck. His denim-encased erection cradled snugly against her backside, shifting with his movements.

She was melting.

Anyone looking for her in the morning would find only a big puddle where she now lay.

This was better than she’d dreamed it would be, and he’d hardly touched her.

He slowly slid down her body, meticulously caressing, kissing, and licking every inch of her skin.

She ached inside, wanting more. Wanting to see him and touch him, the way he was touching her.

At last he reached her toes. She’d never before thought her feet were sexy, but he seemed fascinated by them. He massaged them with his strong hands, then bent her knees up and sucked her toes with his equally strong mouth.

Then it was time.

"Turn back over."

She didn’t know how she summoned the strength, but she did it.

Again she reached to tug his jeans down and again he pulled away.

"I’m not through yet."

He moved to sit astride her once more, but hesitated.

"All of you
looks
so delicious, I’m not sure where to start." His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, toying with her. "What do you think? Where should I begin, top or bottom?"

He wasn’t going to make a move unless she answered him.