Rajasthani Moon (18 page)

When he finally allowed her to catch her breath, she knew the decision had been made. Her eyes were wet, but now she didn’t mind if he noticed. He cradled her against his chest. She leaned her ear against the cool silk of his jacket, listening to the powerful beat of his heart.

“The moon is full again, sweet,” her lover murmured in her ear. “And there’s no sign of the wolf. I’m truly cured. How will I ever thank you?”

Cecily examined the perfect orb hovering above the horizon, huge and ripe, the colour of fresh cream. It bathed the airfield in light, turning the
Chameela’
s silver flanks a warm gold. “Well… You could give me a ride in your new airship,” she responded, running her hands down his back and over his firm rear. “Although, unfortunately, I’m rather afraid of flying.”

Pratan scooped her up as though she weighed no more than Sarita and carried her in the direction of the futuristic vehicle. As he approached, a portal slid open automatically and a set of jointed stairs unfolded towards the ground.

“Trust me, Miss Harrowsmith. I know just how to deal with
that
problem.”

Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

Wild About That Thing

Lisabet Sarai

Excerpt

Chapter One

Ruby could feel it in her bones. It was going to be a good night. Only ten thirty, but most of the tables clustered ‘round the stage were full. Lori had already lugged two extra cases of Heineken—tonight’s beer special—up from the basement, and from the looks of the empties accumulating in front the customers, they were going fast. The bartender caught Ruby’s eye and gave her a thumbs up. Everything under control.

Up front, the Night Travellers hit a dark groove, wailing through
Born Under a Bad Sign
. Zeke’s fingers flew over the strings, improvising a high riff, while Jojo’s bass kept the song grounded. “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all,” Zeke growled, torturing his guitar to match the pain in his voice. Damn, but the man sounded black, despite the mop of straw-coloured hair he kept pushing out of his eyes. Born in Mississippi, he must’ve soaked up blues in the water and the air. Certainly he could play with the best. Ruby was lucky to have him and his band, given the pittance she could afford to pay them.

As if he sensed her attention, Zeke picked her out of the shadows at the back of the club. She felt the warmth of the smile he beamed to her, a smile totally at odds with the desperate mood of the song.
You know why Zeke plays here
, her inner critic commented.
You’re just taking advantage of him.

He gets what he wants,
she argued with the internal voice that sounded so very much like her mother’s.
I treat him fine.
Of course, she got as much out of their relationship as he did. Zeke was a strong man with powerful desires. He could set her on fire. It wasn’t her fault that he was so sentimental. You wouldn’t expect it from a rough and tumble guy like Zeke Chambers—ten years a New York cabbie, a guy who’d seen every horror the city could dish out.

Her phone vibrated in her jeans pocket, interrupting her train of thought.

“Hey, hon. What’s up? You should be in bed.”

“I’m going, Mama. I just want to finish this chapter…”

“Isaiah Jones, it’s nearly eleven and tomorrow’s a school night! You shut your light off right now!”

“Okay, okay, Mama! But don’t forget about your meeting tomorrow with Ms Rodriguez.”

“Oh, right.” Ruby sighed. Isaiah’s grades were good but he was so small that he tended to get bullied. She needed to put a stop to that, somehow. “Thanks, hon. Three thirty, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll be there, don’t worry. Then we’ll walk back home together. Maybe stop for a banana split.”

“Yum!”

“But only if you go to bed right now, you understand? I don’t want to have to come upstairs and make you!”

“Of course. Good night, Mama.”

“’Night, sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” Ruby fought against the wave of guilt that threatened to swamp her. Sure, it would be better if she could awaken with her son, make him breakfast and see him off to school like a “normal” mom. But the club kept her up until three a.m. most nights.

Isaiah understood. She’d tried staying up until after he’d left, but he had seen how wiped out that made her. He insisted she needed her sleep. At thirteen, he didn’t have any problem dressing and feeding himself—heck, he’d been doing it for the past two years, ever since she’d opened the Crossroads Blues Bar. He knew the club was her dream—the dream that had kept her alive after his bastard father took off with his leggy hygienist.

And the bar was finally starting to take off. Just last week,
Time Out
had published a feature about Crossroads. “A bit of Chicago or the Delta transplanted to Fourteenth Street,” the reviewer had raved. That glowing memory almost balanced the effects of the letter she’d received this afternoon.

The crowd erupted into claps and whistles as the Travellers finished their number. “Thank you kindly, ladies and gentlemen.” A decade in New York hadn’t erased the softness of the South from Zeke’s speech. “Welcome to our first open mic night here at the Crossroads. Hope you brought your axe, your sax or your harp—if you didn’t, well, hell, you can borrow ours! Everybody gets the blues sometimes. This is the place to let it all out!”

Fresh applause greeted Zeke’s invitation. He stood up there on the platform—his hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans jacket, his axe hanging around his neck—and grinned like the country boy he used to be. At six-foot-one, with the solid build of a halfback, Zeke was an imposing figure. He’d broken up more than one drunken brawl for her over the past two years and he had a temper that could be scary. To Ruby and Isaiah, though, he’d been nothing but kind. Whatever success the Crossroads could claim was largely due to him.

“To kick things off tonight, I want to invite a very special lady to join us here on stage. She’s been through some hard times, friends, and she knows the blues. It’s in her blood, passed on from her daddy, Jimmy ‘The Harp’ Jones. When she sings, she spills her soul. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Ruby Jones, the lovely owner of the Crossroads Blues Bar!”

 
Applause filled the club. Zeke’s invitation hadn’t been a surprise. They’d discussed having her warm up the crowd, and of course, she’d been performing since she was a kid. Nevertheless, his effusive introduction made her feel self-conscious. Ruby wished she’d worn something a bit more glamorous than her usual jeans and tailored shirt.
 

She picked her way between the tables, headed for the stage. Zeke held out a big hand. When she grasped it, he swung her onto the platform, and quite neatly, into his arms. The crowd roared.

Zeke brushed his lips across hers. His distinctive scent engulfed her—clean sweat, Jim Beam and Ivory Soap. It was like turning on a movie—she instantly remembered the last time he’d been inside her. His blond stubble grazed her cheek. She saw him in her mind’s eye—body suspended above hers on powerful arms as he buried his cock in her pussy, fucking her with a smooth, steady rhythm while he scanned her face, focussed on her pleasure. She felt again the way he stretched and filled her. The seam of her jeans teased her suddenly swollen clit. She wondered if Zeke could smell her growing dampness. Hell, what about the rest of the band?

“Stop it,” she whispered, pushing against his rock-hard chest.

Zeke released her with obvious reluctance. “I love her,” he told the audience, eliciting a chorus of hoots and whistles. Aching, hungry and guilt-ridden, Ruby knew he meant every word.

She smoothed the wrinkles from her blouse, noting in passing the tautness of her nipples, and took a deep breath. “Good evening,” she said into the microphone. As always, the amplified sound of her low alto startled her with its depth and richness. “I’m so glad to see you all. I hope you have a great time—that’s why I’m here, to make that happen if I can. Like Zeke says, the blues is in my blood. I can’t get away from it. I just gotta give in and let it out.”

She turned to nod at Zeke and the other musicians. They picked up the intro to Bessie Smith’s famous lament.

“Once I lived the life of a millionaire,

Spending my money, I didn’t care.

I carried my friends out for a good time,

Buyin’ them bootleg liquor, champagne and wine…”

The audience was as silent as a few dozen folks crammed into a low-ceilinged bar could be. Ruby dug deep and let the pain flow out into her song.

“Nobody knows you when you down and out

In my pocket not one penny

And my friends I haven’t any…”

Zeke and Jojo gave her solid backing, keeping it simple and strong to avoid drawing attention away from her vocals. She didn’t need to think—she’d learned this song at ten years old. She could sing it in her sleep.

She wanted to soar, to turn the sorrow in the piece into some kind of revelation, but worry weighed her down. She couldn’t get her mind off the letter. It was from some fancy uptown law firm, scorn hiding behind politeness.
We regret to inform you
…

She paused to give Zeke and Jojo their solos, blinking hard in a fight against looming tears.
The new owner of the building at 127 Fourteenth Street has expressed an intention to not renew the lease.
Two years of her sweat and sacrifice, not to mention every penny she owned, down the drain.
Please vacate the premises on or before… The owner will be taking possession…
Why did she have nothing but bad luck? Didn’t she deserve some happiness for a change? What was she going to do?

Zeke’s chord change signalled the end of their solos. She nearly missed the cue.

“Mmmmm…when you’re down and out…”

Ruby could feel Zeke gazing at her. If she lifted her head, she knew she’d see surprise and concern on his face. And he’d see the wet gleam in her eyes.

Down and out
. Her voice wobbled, vibrating with emotion, as they brought the number to a close. The audience screamed its approval. Ruby bowed and tried to smile. She’d beaten the blues before. She wondered if she had the strength to do it again.

As the applause died down, Zeke and his boys struck the first chords of
Rock Me Baby
. Ruby launched into the rollicking tune, the driving beat automatically making her feel better.

“Rock me baby. I want you to rock me all night long.

Rock me baby, yeah, rock me all night long.

I want you to rock me baby, like my back ain’t got no bone.”

Zeke took up the second verse, giving her a chance to catch her breath. His sexy baritone vibrated deep in her stomach. He always managed to make this song sound so deliciously dirty, especially when they sang it together.

They reached the bridge. Zeke’s guitar wailed like a cat in heat. Ruby scanned the audience. Thirty or forty people at least, clustered around the tables or leaned against the bar. Practically every seat in the place was taken. Men predominated, but there were plenty of women, too. She saw black and white faces, age-grizzled hair and sleek, modern dos, ragged jeans and designer sweatshirts.

Young and old, black and white, rich and poor—everyone moved with the music. Everywhere she looked, her customers swayed to the beat—nodding their heads, shaking their shoulders or tapping their toes. That’s the way it was with the blues. You couldn’t help it.

Except for this one guy, who perched on a barstool pretty close to the stage. He had skin the colour of milky coffee, a shaved head, aquiline features, and wire-frame glasses. He wore the top two buttons of his white business shirt open, the sleeves turned halfway up his forearms and the tails outside his trim jeans. His polished leather shoes looked expensive. The thing that drew Ruby’s attention, though, was his aura of total concentration. One foot on the rung of the stool, he focussed on the band, drinking in the music. His lips pressed together. His hands, decorated with gold rings, lay still on his taut thighs. He wasn't grooving with the rest of the crowd, but Ruby could tell he was swallowing up every note.

As though he felt the weight of her gaze, the man turned his face towards her. Their eyes connected. His were dark as midnight, deep as a grave.

A bolt of heat flashed through Ruby’s body. She thought she’d melt, right there on stage. Her nipples contracted into rigid peaks. Her pussy, already damp from the effects of Zeke’s teasing, flooded with new moisture.

The man did not smile. His bottomless eyes burrowed into her soul.

Ruby felt an insane impulse to jump down and kneel at his feet. She teetered on her high-heeled boots, dizzy with desire, almost tumbling into the stranger’s lap.

“Everything okay, darlin’?”

Zeke’s whisper pulled her back from the brink. She sent him a quick, grateful smile as they joined their voices in the final verse.