Unsung (5 page)

“Seven o'clock. You going to remember how to get there?”

“Uhh, probably not.” She shook her head. “I'm much more of a learn-by-doing type.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his eyebrows rose up his forehead again, this time more than a little suggestively.

“I didn't mean that in a dirty way.”

“
Sure
you didn't.” He reached over and opened the glove box, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper. He straightened, moving his hand from behind her as he started to go through the pages that were covered in a wiry cursive.

When he got to a blank page he wrote the address and his phone number in the same handwriting she'd seen on the other pages of the notepad.

“Call me if you get lost.” He reached for her hand, placing the paper in her palm. And then he was leaning in, covering her mouth with his.

Yeah, she could forget for just a little bit longer.

T
he gravel in the driveway crunched at five till seven. Liam stepped away from the kitchen island where he was cleaning up the remnants of his dinner making.

Rosemary and lemon gnocchi, from scratch.

Pan-seared pork chops.

And white chocolate raspberry bread pudding.

Yup, if his career in music failed he could just try his hand in the culinary world. His mother had taught him well when he was growing up, and it was something he'd always enjoyed doing. Since his time in a full functioning kitchen was limited these days, he tended to indulge whenever he could cook. And since Harper was coming over tonight he was pulling out all the stops.

Every last one of them.

He caught a glimpse of her red Cruiser through the windows before he opened the front door. She was making her way up the porch wearing a dark purple dress that hit her about mid-thigh. A bronze belt was buckled just under her chest, somehow making her breasts look bigger.

He didn't even think that was possible.

Her matching bronze strappy heels clicked against the wood with every step that she took, but she faltered for just a second when she saw him.

“Hey.” Her hand tightened on the railing and she paused at the top of the stairs.

“You look stunning.” His eyes did another perusal of her body as he leaned against the open doorjamb.

“Thank you,” she said as she reached up with her free hand and brushed her long black hair back and behind her ear. “You don't look half-bad yourself.”

As he was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, and a black V-neck with a green and white flannel shirt, he didn't think the comparison was all that close.

She really was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but it was so much more than just looks with her. He wanted to know
all
of her, more than what he'd gotten last night. More than what he'd gotten that morning.

He didn't quite understand it…didn't even really know what to do with it…but he wanted
everything
. He also wasn't sure what to do with the amount of relief that was coursing through him at seeing her again.

There was a part of him that really thought she wasn't going to come, and now that he was looking at her he found that he needed to have her under his hands.

They both moved at the same time, Harper mounting the last step as Liam pushed off the door frame. He crossed to her in three long strides, and then he was leaning down, his hands going to her hips as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

She was probably five-foot-seven or eight to his six-foot-one, but her four-inch heels narrowed the gap between them. She turned her head and looked at him for just a second before her hands landed on his chest and she stretched up the last remaining inch to put her lips on his. And just like that his arms were wrapping around her and he was pulling her fully into his body.

His mouth opened to hers and he finally had the taste of her on his tongue again. It had been seven hours since he'd seen her.
Seven hours.
And he'd missed her.

How was that even possible? Who was this woman and what had she done with his sanity?

Oh, who cared?

“I'm glad you're here,” he whispered against her mouth.

“Me too.”

He pulled back and looked into her face. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her eyes more than slightly dazed. He had no doubt his face was sporting a very similar look.

Yeah, he had no clue what was going on with this woman. But he sure as hell wanted to figure it out.

“Good Lord you can cook,” Harper said as she ran the last piece of gnocchi through the rosemary, lemon butter sauce before she popped it into her mouth.

Even watching her eat was sexy as hell.

“You cook?” he asked.

She shook her head and swallowed. “Not like this.” She waved her hand at the almost empty plate in front of her. She still had a bite of her pork chop left. “My mother is the culinary expert of the family. She spends hours in the kitchen.”

“Your father?” Well, if she'd opened a door into the personal he was definitely going to walk right on through it.

“Not so much. But I will say that he does contribute nicely to the cause with fresh fish.”

“Your father is a fisherman?”

“Among other things.” She smiled, forking the last bit of food and sticking it in her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before she shook her head at Liam, leaning back in her chair. “I didn't think it was possible for you to top breakfast, but you, my friend, have managed to exceed yourself.” She tossed her napkin onto the table next to her now empty plate.

Liam had no doubt about the fact that she'd enjoyed her dinner. The woman wasn't shy about her reactions, and she'd made more than a few moans around her fork as she'd eaten. And they hadn't even gotten to dessert yet.

“That so?” he asked as he grabbed his glass of wine and took a sip.

“That is so.” The corner of her mouth turned up into a half smile. “You know, you've already gotten me into bed. You didn't need to work so hard to impress me to do it again.”

“My trying to impress you has nothing to do with wanting to get into your pants.”

“Well, that's good. Because I'm not wearing any tonight.”

Liam laughed. “I picked up on that. You're wearing that dress like you're doing it a favor.”

“Is that another one of your pickup lines?”

“It might be. Did it work?”

“I don't know yet.” She reached for her wineglass that was on the verge of needing a refill.

“You'll keep me posted though?”

“Of course,” she said right before she polished off the last of the red liquid.

“You want another drink?”

“Sure.”

“Let me clean up and I'll put something together. You want some more wine or something else?”

“Well, what are the options? Do you bartend as well as you cook?”

“Not really. My skills go about as far as opening a bottle of beer or wine,” he said as he indicated the now empty bottle in front of them. “Adding whiskey to ice, vodka to any juice of your choosing, or a gin and tonic.”

“Gin and tonic.”

“Coming right up.” He pushed his chair back and stood, reaching for his plate. Harper made the same motion, grabbing her plate before he could. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Helping.”

“I don't think so.” He pulled the plate from her hand and motioned toward the living room with his chin. “Go make yourself comfortable. It'll only take me a second to get the rest of this put away.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

She turned on those sexy-as-all-hell heels of hers and headed toward the couch. Liam took just a second to watch her walk away, appreciating everything about the rearview.

Harper looked over her shoulder, catching him in the act. “You get your fill or do you want me to do that again?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Honey, I don't think I'll ever get my fill.” That was a fact, and the sooner he got rid of these dishes the sooner he'd get more. He somehow managed to pull his gaze from her and went into the kitchen, quickly loading everything in the dishwasher.

He made fast work with the gin and tonics and was joining Harper in the living room in less than five minutes.

“How's this?” he asked, handing her a short tumbler as he took a seat next to her on the couch.

She took a sip and nodded. “Mmm, perfect. I haven't had a gin and tonic in a while. They're my dad's specialty and you make a pretty mean one.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

She took another sip of her drink as she nodded to the guitar that was resting against the chair next to the sofa. “So you play, too, Mr. Music Lover?”

He'd apparently forgotten to put it away before she'd come over. A good portion of his afternoon had been spent working on a song that he couldn't get out of his head.

The interesting part? Not only was it a ballad, it was a love song. Two things that he'd never written successfully before. Sure he had lust down pat. He'd written more than a few on that subject. But this song, well, it wasn't about that.

It was completely and entirely different. Which wasn't a bad thing at all.

The reason for his current stint in Nashville was finishing up his newest record. His label wanted one more song.

“Something they haven't seen from you before,” his manager Gary Kirkland had told him about a thousand times.

And there it was, his sudden spark of inspiration wrapped up in a beautiful woman. But what could he say? The woman in question was very inspiring.

At least he'd had the sense of mind to close his notebook that was sitting on the coffee table. One look at the first verse would leave no doubt as to whom his newest song was about. If he ended up recording it she'd know it was about her. She'd
have
to.

“I dabble.” Apparently she wasn't the only one still keeping things a secret. For whatever reason, he found that he wasn't quite ready for her to know what he did for a living.

“You dabble?” she repeated. “And dabbling involves writing your own songs?”

His eyebrows rose in question.

“I saw that notebook in the truck.” She pointed to the coffee table. “And it's filled with something that looks remarkably like songs.”

“Can't get anything by you, can I?” He shook his head.

“Would you play something for me?”

“Sure.” He nodded as he leaned forward, setting his glass on the table before reaching for his guitar. He was coming to the very real conclusion that he'd do just about anything she asked.

He'd had half a dozen songs make it to the airwaves, and they were regularly played to where people who were fans of country knew of at least one. He wondered if Harper knew them. If she'd ever had her radio up loud, the windows down as she sang along.

Yeah he'd always hoped his songs were something to strike a chord with people, but there was something absolutely remarkable about the idea of
his
words coming across
her
lips. He wanted so desperately for his songs to mean something to
her
.

For the first time in a long time, he was nervous as he settled his guitar on his lap and placed his fingers over the correct strings. He took a deep breath before he strummed the first chord, humming to himself before he started with the chorus.

“A day, a week, a month, a year. It would never be enough. I want forever, honey. Forever with you.”

His head came up and he focused on her face. Her mouth had fallen open slightly and her eyes had gone wide.

“A million simple things that aren't so simple at all. Your hand in mine. The taste of your tongue. Your head on my chest. You stealing my heart.”

A heart that was currently pounding out of his chest. This was ridiculous.

“A day, a week, a month, a year. It would never be enough. I want forever, honey. Forever with you.”

He sang the chorus one last time, discovering a new chord that he hadn't known seconds before and knowing that he'd hit the nail on the head.

Harper's eyes hadn't left his, and when he finished she just sat there for a second in stunned silence before she spoke. “You wrote that?” The question was little more than a whisper on her breath.

“Yeah. It isn't finished yet though,” he said as he set the guitar off to the side.

“That was…” She shook her head. “I don't even know. Amazing doesn't seem adequate.”

The look in her eyes and the awe in her voice were humbling…and Liam wasn't humbled all that often. Not that he was a particularly arrogant man, but he did take pride in his passion.

“Thank you.”

Her breath came out in a huff as she shook her head again. “Apparently I'm not the only one full of surprises.”

“Apparently not.” He grabbed his gin and tonic from the coffee table before he leaned back on the sofa, moving closer to Harper in the process.

“That didn't sound like dabbling. Why do I get the impression you've done that before?”

“Because I have. So now that I've shared that, it's your turn.” He reached forward and fingered a piece of her hair, rubbing the silky strand between his thumb and forefinger. “Can I ask you a question or are you still sticking with this nothing personal thing?”

“Depends on the question.”

“Why are you in Nashville?”

She shook her head as she took another sip of her drink. “Nope. Not that question.”

“You enjoy doing this whole mysterious hot girl thing?”

“I wasn't aware that was a thing.”

“Oh really? I'm not all that sure I believe you.”

Her head tilted to the side as her cheek brushed against his fingers. “You should believe I haven't lied to you.”

“Okay, so if you won't tell me that, tell me something else. Something no one else knows.”

“I'm intimidated by what your voice does to me.”

And now he was the one who was left speechless for just a moment. “What do you mean?”

“I don't really know.” She reached up and lightly traced his lips with her index and middle finger, first the top, then the bottom.

Holy. Hell.
He felt that simple touch everywhere, which was beyond complicated. But really, when was he going to learn?
Nothing
with her was simple.

“You speak and somehow make things easier.” She continued as she ran her fingers around his lips one more time.

“Things?”

“Yes.
Things
.” She nodded as she leaned into him, her mouth landing on his.

He brought his hand to the back of her head, his fingers spearing into her hair as he held her to him, devouring her mouth. Every taste of her was like heaven. The words to that song were so damn true. He'd never get enough of her. Not ever.