Weathering Jack Storm (Silver Strings G Series) (33 page)

Putting an inch or so between them, enough to see into his face, she slid her hands down to his, holding them as she declared, “That is not going to happen. I’m committed to this, Jack. We have a kid that needs two parents. Together. He has been through enough. The least we can do is give that to him.”

“I know, honey. I know...”

♪♫¨♫♪

“I missed this,” she sighed into his face as he teased with a slow heavenly slide.

“I missed this,” she exclaimed during a fast and furious pace.

“I missed this,” her words bounced off the tiles of the shower as she gazed down at his dark wet head.

“If you miss this so much, why won’t you come on tour?” Jack asked as they limply lay in the bed. “You could have this every day...”

Her hands played in his wet hair while contemplating the answer. She had been pleasured in every way, and she had returned every bit. Yet, while her body hummed satiated, she remained unsettled with the thought.

The sun’s square pattern on the ceiling held her interest, and when too much time passed with no answer, he spoke again.

“I was stoked about y’all coming along, and I thought you were too...”

“I was,” she earnestly assured, secretly amused that unconsciously he had begun incorporating her southern slang into his own speech.

“So what happened?”

What had happened?

She had cried when seeing him off because circumstances caused her and Tristan to be left behind. Night after lonely night had been spent in his empty bed wishing she were with him in his actual bed wherever that might be.

Had everything really changed with the discovery of the paternity test?

“You have to tell me what is going on. If this is going to work between us, you can’t shut me out every time you get mad.”

He already knew. Word had passed from Dax or any of his posse down, as usual, of that opened envelope left on the kitchen island.

“The paternity test. Okay? At first it was the paternity test,” Unsure of why she blurted it and what it had to do with the tour, she looked away back to that patch of light in a shadowy room.

His answer was prompt. “That was supposed to be mailed to Meg.” Her hand had fallen away from his hair, but he moved his fingers to a strand of hers, twisting the end around a fingertip. “I was so mad at her. Still am. But I didn’t do that test because I doubted the results. I did it because of Tristan. So that no one is looking at him wondering. Ever.”

“So why did you sneak off and do it? Why couldn’t you just say that? To me?”

“I don’t know. It was bad enough what she did. I didn’t want to bring that night up again. And maybe a piece of me was worried you wouldn’t understand.” Jack shifted, moving so that he could better study her face. “So is that what it is? You are mad about that?”

“Part of it I guess.”

“I’m so sorry about that. Why didn’t you just ask me?”

“I called you. That day when I found out. And you must have been doing the radio show. Then this stuff happened with my mom. And after a day or so went by, I wanted to talk to you about it, not the phone, not the computer—to you.”

“But when I came here to your house to see you guys?”

“I didn’t want to ruin it. You were only in for a night.”

Stepping out of bed and crossing the room, he knelt to the mini fridge while she admired the skin, muscle, and ink that was all Jack. Staring into the interior, he questioned over his shoulder, “What do you want?”

“A coke I guess.”

Jack selected a beer for himself and delivered her carbonated caffeine as he slid back into bed. They propped on the headboard side by side and drank in silence with their feet playing together.

“So, what is the other part?” His question was husky, hesitant.

“Hmm?”

“You said the paternity test was part of it. What’s the other part?”

“I don’t know. I want to be with you. But every time I think of being with you on tour...I can’t…”

“Can’t be with me?”

“Can’t think of it. Something makes me want to not think about it. I thought I was excited, and then it just changed, and now I’m not. In fact, I’m scared, and I don’t know why.”

“When you left that phone message, you said something about groupies.”

“Can we not talk about this? I will come...”

“You...” Fidgeting with the label on his bottle, he heaved a breath as if battling with himself. “You don’t have to come. I won’t bug you about it again. I told you that part of my life is almost over, and I meant it. If you want to wait...” His hand shook and he clamped it securely around the glass neck. “If you want to wait until there is no more tour—we can do a long distance thing...Lots of couples do it when it comes to tour.”

Intently, she studied the side of his face. He became statue still as he awaited her response, and his attention remained on anything except her.

“Do you want your fortune cookie, Momma? You can have it.” Tristan considerately giving her an option when he hoped for the opposite. She was always comparing their mannerisms, but because they were so similar, she could clearly read Jack.

“No.” Firmly and determinedly, she answered. “If we learned anything this month it is that we don’t do long distance well. I’m going.” Then she teased, “Besides, Jack Storm, I want to see you do this thing you do...”

Visibly, he relaxed and a smile shone on his face, the heat from it seeming to warm her through to the inside.

“On the contraire, Mariss. I can promise you that you have the Skype thing going on. Maybe too well…,” he teased with a molten look at the bare favorites of her body.

“I can promise you that I love you more deeply for that comment alone, than almost any other thing you have ever said…”

She knew without a doubt he had talked plenty of women out of their virtual clothing and into cybersex. He was just far too adept from the very first get go, and besides—he was Jack Storm.

As if reading the neurons firing in the hard drive of her brain, he continued, smoothly, sweetly. “Mariss, I can promise you that despite all the stupid stuff I do, I will always be there for you and Tristan. And, I will always be faithful to you. I will always love you.”

Overcome with emotion, words failed her, and she moved enough to lean her head against his and took another cooling sip of her drink.

After a few swallows of his own drink, he gently spoke. “I cannot imagine what it must have been like to walk in on the guy you were going to marry in the middle of it with someone else. And I swear to you Mariss, if he still lives around here, point me to him, and I will beat the everliving shit out of him.”

The idea of a scum like Kel opening his front door to a metal god, who then beat the crap out of him, had her giggling against Jack’s stubbly cheek.

“I love you Mariss. I know it must have brought back screwy memories to see those girls on me like that.”

Nervously, she continued to drink wondering if Jack was right. Had seeing near naked women on Jack’s lap indirectly slapped her back in time, to walking in on some skanky homewrecker atop Kel?

“Honey whatever you tell me, I will try to do it–for you. But I don’t really want to be that asshole musician that won’t take a picture or interact with his fans. That is just part of it. Hell, I end up doing a dozen or so ‘meet and greets’ per show.” As he made this declaration, her mind reluctantly conjured up the typical rock star and fan pictures. “But again, I swear to you, nothing will ever happen, and it does nothing for me.”

His cold, calloused fingers traced the skin around her Jackal guitar pick necklace and then dropped slightly lower to one of his favorite playgrounds. “These are the only ones I will ever want...” Closing her eyes, she savored the feel of his fingers sliding on her skin. “The only ones I’ve wanted since way before you came back into my miserable world again...you ruined me too, you know...”

Twisting, she slid a leg over both of his settling on his lap to face him for the serious kiss she was about to lay on his lips...

...“Okay, maybe you shouldn’t come on tour,” he joked. “I do have to have a level of energy for the shows...” Her lips moved to his, “And if we are doing this ten times a day...”

“Make up your mind, rock star.” Giving his lip a tug with her teeth, she stared into his sated eyes.

“I already did. And it’s not changing.” His hands were lightly resting on her rear and he caressed. “So are you guys coming back with me tomorrow? Or when?”

Nodding, she played with the damp tips of hair that rested on his shoulder. “Tomorrow.” Her gaze glazed down the arms on either side of her legs. “I just need to call–” Just in time she left out the name she had been about to say and amended, “Work. I need to call so they can fix the schedule.”

“I can get James to call. If you don’t want to.”

“Why would I need someone else to call?”

“I don’t know Mariss, my honey. Just trying to make it easy on you.”

Suddenly his inane offer made sense. “About Clayton. You know there is nothing there, right?”

“If I didn’t, I do now.” There was humor in his voice, and she looked up to see it sparking his eyes.

“Good, then. Because I really thought you were going to punch him.”

“Yeah. I was.” His fingertips smoothed up one of her legs, and she smiled at the feel. “If I had any doubts, your lack of a razor, or wax, or whatever you girls do, set me straight...” With no sense, his words swirled, and then mortified with understanding, she jerked her leg from his touch. Jack, however, curved his fingers to her calf and made another stroke. “Feels weird...”

“Stop!” Pulling back again, she quelled the urge to go back into the shower with a razor. “You act like you’ve never felt it before.”

“I haven’t.”

At this, she stilled, studying his face. Had all of Jack’s girlfriends managed to stay perfectly groomed in this respect?

“I don’t believe you.” Actually, she could read his face well enough that she did, as unlikely as his proclamation was. However, she wanted to draw out some answers.

“Well it’s true. I guess I never stuck with anyone long enough for them to get comfortable around me.”

“How long was your longest relationship?” she ventured, half afraid he would withdraw under the interrogation.

“A few months. Maybe a little more.”

“We’ve only been together a few weeks...” Already she had given him hairy legs, among other hairy body parts...

She eased from atop him, to lie next to him, and unobtrusively pulled at a sheet with her toe.

“No, Mariss.” His fingers were back on her legs. “We’ve been together five years. Whether we knew it or not.”

The confirmation that there was a connection all of those years, even if he was only feeling it in retrospect, had her heart aching in love. And if the confirmation were not completely in that statement, it was also in his liberal use of the word ‘wife’ instead of girlfriend or fiancée.

They kissed, tenderly, sweetly, before falling back to their propped positions to eye one another.

Suddenly, she stiffened in mild panic knowing the normal span of her work shift had long since passed. “What time is it?”

Their phones were in the other room still on the floor by the door, and she explained as she slipped out of his lap, “Olivia is watching Tristan. She will be worried. She’s probably been trying to call–”

“No,” he negated, and she turned back unable to keep from admiring him on the bed as he further explained, “How do you think I found you? She’s not expecting us back before morning.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I told her, ‘Don’t expect us back before morning.’”

“But she has work...”

“Ugh, you are so complicated.” Swinging out of bed, he playfully smacked her then said, “Go ahead. Call her if you must.”

“Woah...” Pausing in the threshold of the bedroom, she took in the ginormous suite. A baby grand piano posed lavishly on a platform. “I didn’t even know this place had rooms like this.”

“And just how do you know about the rooms in this hotel?” They were crossing the large room to their clothing pile, and he turned to give her a bemused grin.

“Because I was a hooker here before I was a dealer, or as they call them, ‘escorts’.” She deadpanned the answer, somehow keeping a straight face for all of ten seconds while Jack stopped dead in his tracks.

“You’re so easy!” She dosed him back for every time he had ever used that exact phrase on her. Most important, she effectively avoided the question. Employees received a huge room discount, so these hotel rooms had been a natural local for her past dalliances.

“Mariss? Remember when you told me you weren’t that girl?” Jack had stepped into his jeans but his hands paused on the fly, and her own hands stilled on her blouse. Her movements froze until she realized he was speaking of the phone call that had become a fight and her declaration against enjoyment of running up his charge card.

“I’m not,” she declared. “I can take that life or leave it.”