Seduced by Sunday (11 page)

Val wasn’t the only one looking, either. Men of all sizes, ages, and marital statuses were watching her. Lord help him if she sang as sexy as she looked.

“Is that Meg?” Val heard Gabi’s voice on his right. He nodded without looking at his sister.

“My goodness, she takes performing with Jim to quite an extreme.”

“It’s her fan moment.” On
his
Fantasy Island.

From across the crowded room, her eyes lifted to his. Instead of looking away, she hoisted her martini glass in salute before tipping
it to the edge of her red lips. When she licked the moisture off the rim of the glass, he had to look away or risk embarrassing himself in front of his guests.

“It looks as if her two companions aren’t quite enough to entertain her,” Gabi said without malice.

The lights on the stage went up, keeping Val from commenting on his sister’s observation.

He zigzagged through the crowd and took the stage to introduce his special guest. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining me this lovely evening.” Val looked over the heads of his guests, found the bright eyes of Margaret watching his every move. “Tonight I’ve asked a special guest, and an icon I dare call friend, to my stage. Please put your hands together for a man who needs little introduction, Mr. Jim Lewis.”

Few people in attendance knew Jim was going to perform, and with the announcing of his name, the audience applauded with enthusiasm that honored his friend.

Jim walked from the back of the club, shaking hands along the way. When he reached the stage, he shook Val’s hand and leaned into the mic. “How about a round of applause for your host.”

The crowd kept clapping.

Val tilted his head in appreciation and moved offstage.

“It’s hard to say no to Val,” Jim said. “Especially when he gives me the best villa for nothing.”

The audience laughed and Jim took to the stool in the center of the stage. Val’s house band moved into place behind his friend. A stagehand produced Jim’s guitar and set a glass of water on the table beside him.

Jim ran his fingers over a few chords and the room grew silent.

“I’ve been singing for my meals for nearly thirty years.” He strummed the guitar again, stopped.

The crowd laughed.

“I’ve performed in concert halls, auditoriums, stadiums . . . but none are better than venues like this . . . where I can play, chat, and feel like I’m in your living room talking crap about the neighbors.”

The keyboard player knocked back a few notes and stopped.

“Have you ever had a neighbor, hotter than your girl?”

The keyboard played again, and this time the drummer played with him.

“Oh, baby, it’s a bad thing when your girl finds out.”

The keyboard, drums, and now a bass prepared for Jim’s opening.

“That you have ‘The Baby Next Door Blues.’”

Jim leaned into the mic, hit the first note, and wrapped the audience around his chubby little finger.

Val had heard him many times, sometimes in his own living room. But here, onstage and in his element, Jim vibrated.

Val found himself watching Margaret. Her hand tapped the top of the table to the beat of the music; her lips mouthed the words to one of Jim’s most famous songs.

The song dipped low, wound its way to a high note, and finished with a round of applause.

Margaret was the first on her feet, and one of the last to sit down before Jim moved to another hit.

Val wound his way through the tables until he found the sweet spot in the back where all the notes could be heard in full stereo. Jim helped design the acoustics, making sure there wasn’t a corner missing anything critical. But here, in the center of the room, Val could hear every note as clear as an early morning bird greeting the day.

The second song moved faster than the first, two horn players added flavor to the music.

When the song was over, and the audience calmed down, Jim looked over the crowd. When his eyes landed on Margaret, Val felt his pulse jump.

Was she nervous? Did anything make the woman numb with anxiety?

“Have you ever met someone in your life and said, hot damn . . . if only I was twenty years younger?”

“Try thirty,” Michael Wolfe countered from the floor.

Jim tossed his head back and laughed. “I met this sassy, sweet thing only a few hours ago. If her voice is as sexy as her dress, we’re in for a treat. Let’s hear it for Meg Rosenthal.”

Margaret took the stage as if she’d done it so many times before. Val found himself mesmerized. Jim slid a hand around her waist, kissed her cheek. She lifted a leg and batted her lashes at the audience.

“Go girl!”

Val heard the call, but didn’t note where the man who yelled it was.

Instead of moving to the microphone, she blew a kiss to Jim before moving behind the keyboard. “Do you mind?” she asked.

Ruben lifted both hands and stepped away, giving her space. One of the stagehands moved forward and tilted the mic to the level of her lips.

“So what are we going to sing, baby girl?” Jim asked.

Margaret placed her fingers to the keys, ran through a couple of familiar chords. “It’s baby girl now? What happened to your future wife?”

Jim’s grin lit the stage. “Honey, if you were my wife, I’d be dead before morning.”

The audience laughed.

Val found himself enjoying the banter.

Margaret found Jim’s eyes, danced her fingers over the keyboard, letting everyone know she knew her way around the instrument. “Something fast and sweaty, Jim?”

Jim pulled at his collar, let her run the show.

She slowed the tune, made the room sigh. “Something slow and sensual?”

It was Val’s turn to tug at his tie.

“Baby doll, you pick, and I’ll just try and keep up.”

Margaret lifted her hands, rubbed them together, and started. “I think you might know this one.”

It took two chords for the audience to recognize the tune. “Ever been to San Francisco, Jim?” She kept playing.

Jim closed his eyes and waited, as did Val, until Margaret leaned into the mic and took command of the first few lines of “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay.”

Jim let out a whoop of approval and sat on the dock with her. When Margaret left her home in Georgia, the glassware in the room rang with the pitch-perfect tone of her voice.

They bounced between lines in the song like they’d done it before. The rest of the band sat back and listened.

It was Margaret, Jim, and a lone piano. They harmonized with the chorus, let each other take center stage for a line, then gave it up to the other for the next.

Her voice easily bounced over the ending notes to the song, bringing it home with both of them pleasing the audience.

Everyone stood, and Jim offered a hand to Margaret as she stepped down from the platform the keyboard was perched on.

The woman glowed.

Jim kissed her again, squeezed her waist, and walked her offstage.

“Baby girl, you can sing with me anytime.”

She’d just belted out one of her favorite songs with Jim Lewis and lost herself in the music. Meg couldn’t stop smiling.

Michael kissed both her cheeks when she returned to the table. “You were phenomenal. I had no idea.”

Ryder pulled out her chair and they listened to Jim’s next song.

When the lights came back up between sets, they ordered another round of drinks and Jim made his way offstage and to their side.

“I don’t know what you’re doing working in an office with a voice like that,” he told her.

She’d probably stop smiling sometime near Christmas. “Does that mean I can keep the video?”

“So long as I have a copy.” He shook the men’s hands. “I need to pollute my lungs,” he said before he turned and left.

Meg accepted the kind words of those around them. But when she looked around, she didn’t see Masini anywhere.

When Jim finished singing for the evening, the house band continued to play.

Michael and Ryder were talking in low tones when Gabi sat next to her. “You were amazing.”

“Jim’s the pro. I’m the window candy.”

Gabi continued to deny the claim when Michael interrupted them. “We’re going to head back.”

Meg took one look at them and decided three was a crowd. “I’m going to stay here a bit longer.”

Michael handed her the key to the golf cart. “We’ll walk back.”

Gabi sat back, nodded at the retreating men. “So what’s with the friend?”

“Ryder?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s an old friend. Just went through a breakup. Since Michael has a crazy schedule, he decided to invite him down to cheer him up.”

The excuse worked. “Seems lots of celebrities like to combine friends and family when they can. I don’t think I’d want to be so busy I couldn’t do both.”

“Do you think you’re going to be busy once you’re married to a winemaker?”

Gabi smiled. “I honestly don’t know what my life is going to look like when Alonzo and I marry. He seems to think I’ll stay here most of the time while he runs the vineyards.”

“You’ll live separately?” That sounded like an Alliance marriage. “Until the California property is ready for us.”

“Won’t that be difficult? It seems you’re close to your family.”

“It’s time I found my own place. Val has had the burden of watching over both of us for years. My mother can always move close to me.”

“Alonzo is OK with that?” Meg couldn’t imagine having a parent living that close. Then again, Meg visited with her parents on occasion, but didn’t pine for their presence.

“Like I said, we haven’t really discussed it.”

Meg couldn’t help but wonder what they had talked about. For a bride-to-be, Gabi had little idea of what married life was going to look like.

“Miss Masini?” One of the waiters interrupted them. “I’m sorry to bother you, but there seems to be a problem and I’m not sure where Mr. Masini is.”

Gabi stood. “I’m sorry.”

“No, please. I was just about to step outside.”

Much of the club had cleared out. Meg stepped out into the warm Caribbean evening and headed in the opposite direction of her villa. The last thing she wanted to do was interrupt Michael and Ryder. Besides, it was too nice a night and she was still riding high from her moment onstage with Jim. She couldn’t wait to see the recording.

She itched to pull out a cell phone and text Judy with the evening’s events. That would have to wait.

Meg walked along the wide porch of the main building. The outside patio where the restaurant spilled was free of couples.

She stopped long enough to enjoy the gentle waves lapping on the shore, watched the light from the building twinkle on the water.

She understood why Val would live where he worked. The view, the temperature of the air and water, was perfect.

The piano used to entertain guests outside stood covered for the night. Meg approached it, touched the edges of the covering briefly before pulling it back.

There was something about the sound of a baby grand that no other piano could capture. For an instrument that spent many days outside, it was tuned to perfection. Meg looked over the water, let a few chords of the song she’d sang earlier play.

She wondered if Val enjoyed her performance, and wondered even more why she thought about him now.

Meg slowed her fingers and lent her voice to the song of desire and want. It was sultry and a little sad, and fit her mood. When she finished she let the piano fade and heard a lone clap.

Val leaned against the railing, his tie loose on his neck.

The man was too delicious for his own good.

Meg offered a smile and nodded a tiny bow. “Well thank you, kind sir.”

“You were brilliant tonight,” he said from the shadows.

His approval warmed her. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Everyone could tell.” He pushed away from the rail and leaned over the piano. “How long have you played?”

Not knowing what to do with his attention honed in on her, Meg plucked at the keys softly. “My parents always had instruments in the house. They were too young for Woodstock, but if they could, they would have run around naked with a guitar covering their goods.”

“They taught you?”

“More like I taught myself. Formal education wasn’t important to them.” She played a few notes of Bach, switched to Pink Floyd.

“Can you read music?”

“I get by. My high school choir teacher said I had a talented ear.”

“And voice.”

She smiled, caught the scent of Val’s skin. “That and an open guitar case might have made me a few bucks on a city corner.”

“You weren’t willing to risk a roof over your head for the dream of a singing career.” His observation was on-target.

“My parents live week by week, Masini. I didn’t want that.” The music coming from the piano started to sound dark. Meg purposely switched it to something quick and lively. “What about you? Ever want something different in your life that you didn’t go for?”

When he didn’t answer right away, she glanced up to find him studying her.

“Not yet.”

“Sounds like there’s something.”

He brushed the side of her face with the back of his hand, moved closer.

Meg stopped playing, felt her pulse jump.