Lost Our Forever

BLUE SILVER: LOST OUR FOREVER

…The shirt was in his way. He paused long enough to rip it over her head. She did the same to his T-shirt, then tossed it on the ground with hers. Both breasts, unbound, were his. God, he loved it when she didn’t wear a bra. But he couldn’t support her and touch her, too. He looked wildly around and spotted a couch against the far wall. Swung them over to it, turned, and fell, pulling her as he went so she straddled him. She leaned back, studying him, looking not nearly as lost in this as he was. “Just like old times, huh?” Fuck. She’s right. The first time he’d met her—she’d been following the band for a few weeks, but he’d only seen her in passing until one day she managed to get backstage. She’d come on to him, and he’d taken what she offered. On a filthy couch in a bloody dressing room, with bright fluorescent lights taking all the romance out if it. As if there’d been any in the first place. Just like now…

ALSO BY NATALIE J. DAMSCHRODER Cat’s Claw Elemental Passion Institutional Sex Kira’s Best Friend A Matter Of Choice The Passion Of Tanner Black Slow Build Sophie’s Playboy To Catch A Cowboy The TreeKeeper

BLUE SILVER:

LOST OUR FOREVER BY NATALIE J. DAMSCHRODER

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

BLUE S ILVER: LOST OUR FOREVER AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2006 by Natalie J. Damschroder ISBN 1-59279-575-7 Cover Art © 2006 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For my fellow Silverettes… Megan, Ellie, Penny, and Jacki… I adore you all, and working with you is the most fun I’ve ever had writing. Thank you for having me as a part of this project!

BLUE SILVER: LOST OUR FOREVER

BLUE SILVER: LOST OUR FOREVER

“No frickin’ way.” “Why?” Georgie turned plaintive eyes on Cassie, who did her best to ignore them. “Because it’s a very bad idea, that’s why.” For the first time in six months, she had a craving for a cigarette. Images flashed into and out of her mind so fast she couldn’t have described them, but they left behind a sensation of the past, how it had felt to be in the midst of that world. A world where she had smoked. And done and been a hundred other things she wanted no part of now. But Georgie was her best friend. Had been in high school, and was again now, despite the years in between. She’d forgiven Cassie for abandoning her along with Pennsylvania, and they’d picked up where they left off a little more than a year ago, when Cassie returned to their 1

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hometown. She’d helped Cassie find her center, just by being her. And she was so fucking sweetly persistent Cassie knew, no matter what she said, Georgie wouldn’t give up. “They’re not coming anywhere near here.” “Ha!” Georgie crowed, pointing at Cassie. “I knew it! Pleeease. They’re doing Columbus. They could easily come here first. You’re still in touch with Seth, aren’t you? You know the tour schedule. You’ve got to want to see them.” “I really don’t.” She studied her friend. Georgie had made some big changes recently, with a trendier haircut and contacts, and a hipper wardrobe, but it was still obvious to anyone looking at them that they were extreme opposites. Georgie was a good girl, a librarian who’d taken care of her injured fiancé and been unceremoniously dumped as soon as he was well enough. Despite that, she still was sweet to the core, and looked it. Cassie was well aware she looked exactly like what her life had made her. Hard. Damaged. Vibrant in a way that attracted and excited, but would hurt like touching a live electrical wire. She, too, had made changes. But she was sour to the core, and looked it. Revisiting the life that had set her on the path to the self she was now was not something she aspired to. “Why do you want to see them?” she asked Georgie, just for amusement. She didn’t need to hear the answer—that lost night, when Arliss had gotten them tickets to the concert of British band Blue Silver, complete with backstage passes. The Silverettes, as they’d called their little fan club, had been crushed by the missed dream, courtesy of a broken-down limo. It represented, to Georgie, all the other dreams she’d lost, and the new beginning she so desperately wanted. “Cassie, be honest.” Georgie wound down from the passionate speech she’d already given to Cassie twice, once on the phone when 2

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she’d pitched the idea, and again last week on Cassie’s answering machine. “You want to see Seth. You need to see him. And you miss the guys, the music. I know you do.” “I don’t.” Unlike the others, Cassie had managed to capture the dream. She hadn’t been much different from Georgie back then. She had decided Blue Silver was her only way to get out of Hellsville. She wasn’t smart enough for college, even if her parents could have afforded it. She had no talent for anything in particular. Except at sixteen, she started to get men looking at her. By eighteen, she’d honed the ability to make them look, even if they didn’t want to. And that got her things. The day after graduation, it got her a ride to New York City, where Blue Silver was launching their new tour. It got her into the show, when she teased a guy into losing his girlfriend and taking her instead. And with a lot of work, it got her backstage and into Seth Graham’s bed. To her everlasting regret. She hated to bust Georgie’s bubble, but it was better to do it now than to let disillusion do it for her. She leaned forward across the table. “Hon, you don’t want this. It’s not what you think it is. It’s not what you want it to be. It’s dark and grim and degrading and soul-sucking, and it will ruin you forever.” “I’m not you.” Georgie dropped the girlish pleading and rhapsodizing and fixed Cassie with a look of clear-eyed determination. “It’s one night, Cassie, not years. I’m thirty-five, not fifteen. Getting an opportunity to watch Julian Manchester use those hands, up close and personal, is not going to ruin my life.” She flashed a grin. “It’s going to spice it up.” “Fine.” Cassie sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.” Squealing, Georgie leaped up and ran around the table to hug her, bouncing her whole body. Cassie gritted her teeth and endured it. What else was she going to do? She felt guilty a few minutes later when her 3

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friend finally went out the back door, knowing she wasn’t going to try very hard. She loved Georgie. Her purity helped Cassie keep her despair at bay, and she wasn’t going to let anything destroy it. Better for her to be disappointed than ruined. *

*

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“We don’t need another bloody blue filter. If I wanted to look like a bleedin’ vampire, I’d—” “Wear eyeliner and flip up your collar?” Seth chuckled at Jules’ whinging. Twenty years, and nothing had changed. “Leave the lighting to the crew, will ya? You’ll get your spot at all the right times, and it’ll be bright enough to make you glow.” Seth sucked at his beer and tapped his pen on the lined pad on the table in front of him. “I’m more concerned with our song order at the moment. I wanted Brad’s new one to come in sooner, but he’s still fussing with it, and I’m not convinced he’ll be done at all. So we can’t count on that. Hang on.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Julian didn’t look up from the tech specs he’d swiped from the production manager’s desk. “Seth Graham.” It was lovely to be able to answer like that again, as if his full name actually meant something. As if someone could be calling him besides his mum and his sister. For a second, glee flooded him and he couldn’t believe he’d ever needed chemicals to make him soar. Then he heard the voice on the other end of the line. “Hello, Seth.” “Cassie.” He sat back in his chair, letting the familiar cocktail wash over him. Longing, comfort, sorrow, and regret, with just a hint of passion and joy, long buried. “How are you?” “I’m doing all right. How about you?” “Good. I’m great. It’s so good to hear you. I mean, it’s been…” “A long time. Probably three years. I’m sorry. I meant to keep in 4

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better touch.” He doubted that. After their divorce, they’d been better friends than they had been during their marriage. But he’d continued to selfdestruct, while she’d tried to rebuild her life. Slowly, they’d stopped talking to each other. She’d outgrown him, and he’d needed distance to be able to focus on making himself whole again. Though he never had figured out how to do it without her. “It’s okay…we’re talking now. How are you? You still with that guy, Frank or something?” “No.” She hesitated. “He was emotionally barren.” Seth shook his head. “Better than the arsehole you took up with after me. If I recall, he was passionate with his fists.” “You don’t have to remind me. Frank was sweet, but way too oldfashioned for me, and I never knew what he was thinking. There’ve been a couple of idiots since then, but nothing real.” “So you’re not with anyone now?” He wondered why he’d asked, what this conversational thread mattered. With someone or not, she’d never be his again. “Nope. Just me. I’m back home, you know. Harrisburg.” “Yeah, I heard. Samantha told me.” His sister talked to Cassie at the holidays every year. “Hey, guess what? We’re touring again! Blue Silver’s making a comeback.” “I know. That’s great. You guys getting along okay?” Seth glanced at Julian, who was now glowering at his hair in a mirror. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re great. Troy was a little resistant, you know. The tour was never good for him. But he misses the music, so we’re doin’ it. We start in a few months, in the heartland of America.” “That’s actually why I’m calling.” She sounded uncertain, something he wasn’t used to from his Cassie. “Remember how my fan club was supposed to meet you guys backstage when you were on that last big American tour? And my friends were heartbroken that we 5

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missed out?” He had a vague recollection of that story. Cassie hadn’t talked about her pre-band days very much during their marriage, and when she had, he hadn’t listened. Or had listened through such a haze, he was guaranteed not to remember. Before he could answer, she continued, “Anyway, my friend Georgie wanted me to call and see if you could do a show here. So she and the others can live the dream, you know. It’s ridiculous, but I said I’d ask.” “There? You mean, in Harrisburg?” Something felt shiny in his chest, like the sun was starting to peek over the mountains. “A concert?” “Well, yeah. At a local club. I doubt you can get the stadium at this late date.” “Babe, we couldn’t get the stadium if we’d started booking three years ago. We’re has-beens. It’s been a struggle for Pete to get us anywhere, and if we don’t fill those blinkin’ clubs on our first six dates, the rest of the tour will turn to smoke. I have no illusions about our drawing power these days.” One of the things he loved about Cassie was her inability to bullshit. “I figured that. Anyway, I know your schedule is tight. I just promised I’d ask for her. It’s no big deal.” “No, it’s okay. I’ll check. I’ll talk to Pete, see if we can squeeze it in. I’d love to see you.” Shit. Wrong thing to say. He’d always known any hint that he still wanted Cassie, and she disappeared for months. Years, now. “How are your parents? I got a card from your mum at Easter.” “Yeah, she loved the fruitcake you sent at Christmas.” They made small talk for another five minutes, but he’d lost her. She was dismissing him as easily as she had three years ago, and six years ago, and all the way back at the end, thirteen years ago, the last 6

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time he’d seen her. He snagged her phone number before she hung up, but wondered if she’d even bother to answer when he called back. Hell, it didn’t matter. Her voice on the mail recording would satisfy him. Lord, he was pathetic. *

*

*

“No fucking way.” Pete shouted so loudly Seth backed up a few steps. Not that he could go far. In the absence of any real business space, they’d turned his home into headquarters. And since he’d lost most of his money as well as his career and his mind, Pete’s office was an old, walk-in closet. His voice tended to echo when he yelled. Which he always did, but not usually like this. “Don’t you remember what she did to you?” Pete stabbed out his cigarette, ignoring Seth’s glare at the smoke. “We’re not doin’ her a favor, and she’s gotta lotta gall askin’. I hope you told her to fuck herself.” “She didn’t do anything to me, Pete. I did it to myself. And it’s just one more gig. How can that hurt us?” “How? I’ll tell you how.” He shoved his scruffy-bearded face forward. “We’ve got a schedule tighter than a virgin’s ass, and a budget already blown the fuck up. Our sponsor’s already printed the tour schedule and licensed the rights for T-shirts and posters. Changing the schedule is not an option.” “Schedules change all the time. And it’s not like Blue Silver is the Billboard darlin’ the band was twenty years ago, for cripe’s sake. No one’s gonna care. I’m not saying to cut anything, just to add it.” “Add a gig?” Troy came into the hall behind Seth and looked over him at Pete. “The schedule’s already exhausting. Where we gonna add another bloody gig?” He popped the top on a Coke and drank deeply. “It’s a fuckin’ favah,” yelled Pete. “For his bleedin’ ex. Tell him, 7

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Troy. Tell him why it’s a stupid fucking idea, and let me get back to work.” He leaned across the desk to shove Seth out the door, then slammed it shut behind him. “Yoko, huh?” Troy shook his head. “You falling into that trap again?” “No trap. She just has friends who want to see us play, that’s all.” Troy made a what-the-hell face and chugged the rest of his Coke. “Fine by me. I wouldn’t mind seeing Cassie again.” “Yeah, I just bet you wouldn’t.” He leapt to wrap an arm around the drummer’s neck, pulling him into a half-nelson and noogie-ing his scalp. “You’ll do anything to have another crack at my woman.” Troy broke free and swiped at him, and they whacked at each other all the way back to the living room they were using as tour central. But even though Troy ignored his slip, Seth was all too aware of it. *

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Cassie looked up from her spreadsheets when the familiar chime signaled an instant message. She sighed. It was Georgie. Again. The woman wouldn’t let up. Seth had called and told her Pete said it was impossible, but Georgie’s hope lived on. The tour launch was now three months away, and her campaign had gotten feverish. You are invited to a chat with GeorgieD and xMarci. Damn. She’d elevated her attack. She positioned her mouse over the “decline” button, then set the spreadsheet aside and clicked “accept.”

GEORGIED: You there, Cass? CAFHoncho: <sigh> Yeah, I’m here. The answer is NO, Georgie. I can’t do anything about it. xMarci: Hey, Cass! Been a long time! Georgie says you’re getting Blue Silver back! 8

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Cassie grit her teeth, then counted to ten.

CAFHoncho: Hey, Marci. Good to “see” you. Sorry, I can’t get them. They won’t come. I tried. They say the schedule’s too tight. GEORGIED: Sugar on a stick!

There was a pause, and Cassie sat under waves of guilt, while her cursor blinked. She knew Georgie wouldn’t leave it at that. She typed, I knew you were going to say that, and waited.

GEORGIED: Can you talk to Seth again? CAFHoncho: I knew you were going to say that. xMarci: Oh, well. You tried, Cassie.

The guilt wave came again. She hadn’t tried that hard. She hadn’t planned to, but now that Marci was being nice about it, she wished she had pushed Seth a little harder. In the past, he hadn’t resisted her very much at all, despite Pete and the rest of Blue Silver’s management.

xMarci: Hey, why don’t we just hook up at one of their scheduled gigs? It would be better than nothing, wouldn’t it? GEORGIED: YES!!!!!! Hang on. I’ll get the schedule.

They spent the next half hour going over the tour, but it was no use. 9

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Georgie had an ALA conference, Cassie six different events for her employer, Aquila Foundation, and her pet subsidiary, Ten Steps to the Moon, an organization that helped kids find their aptitude and then achieve their goals. Marci’s mother was going in for surgery, and her demanding job made getting several days off in the middle of the week difficult.

CAFHoncho: If it’s this hard just coordinating the three of us to go to another city, I can’t imagine we’d be successful figuring out all five of us. xMarci: Faith will be even harder. She hates to leave the halfway house. GEORGIED: The only time that looks like it would work is right before they launch the tour. I guess it’s just not going to work.

Cassie didn’t need to hear her voice to recognize the despondency. She almost told them she’d try again, but why get their hopes up? She had an idea flowering in the back of her head, and it would be better to see if it was going to work before she said anything. She thought she knew of a way everyone could be happy. Georgie could live her dream. Marci and Faith and Arliss—if Georgie could convince her—would have the night of their lives. She’d raise enough money for Ten Steps to the Moon to guide a dozen kids through college. And Pete would have enough publicity to launch his tour in style. She’d picked up her phone before she recognized the bubbling in her chest as excitement. *

*

*

“Omigod, omigod, omigod!” Georgie stuck her nails between her teeth, bounced on her heels, spun to look at Cassie, then back to the 10

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airfield, as if she would miss the plane. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.” Cassie couldn’t either. She’d had to buy an ear piece for her cell phone, she’d been on it so much over the last three months. She’d started with the venue, because if there wasn’t any place for the band to play, there was no point talking to Seth again. The management of Theater Seven, an art deco renovation in downtown Harrisburg across the street from the Come Inn Hotel, had been thrilled to book Blue Silver for a Friday night concert in August. They’d been willing to bump a nationally touring comedian to get them, but it hadn’t been necessary. The hotel had blocked off a floor for the band and their crew. She’d done the preliminary paperwork for her employer, Aquila Foundation, identifying five local charities that could benefit from Blue Silver’s philanthropy. They all—poetically, she thought—connected to causes near and dear to the band members’ hearts, according to the news she’d collected on the band. She’d scoured the Internet and clipping services for information, both from twenty years ago and more recently. Occasional reports and interviews had popped up in small newspapers and magazines as the tour approached, giving her enough fodder for a dozen press releases. She created a proposal and sent copies to Seth and Pete, both of whom had called her immediately. Pete cursed her out for ten minutes, then called her a genius and agreed to the gig. Seth made jokes about how much she wanted to see him. The problem was, she thought he might be right. As she stood here on the tarmac at the Capital City Airport, waiting for their small plane from New York to arrive, she could barely sort out what she was feeling. She was happy to be able to get together with her friends again. Arliss and Faith had agreed at the last minute, and were hooking up with Marci tomorrow afternoon at Harrisburg International Airport. 11

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Georgie’s excitement was infectious, and Cassie couldn’t help grinning at her every time she jumped up and down. Despite the disturbing phone call the other day, when Georgie had told her she intended to have sex with Julian. He was a man-whore who would tear her soft friend apart. Georgie wouldn’t admit it, but Cassie thought she was much more hurt by Joe’s betrayal than she’d admit, and she thought having sex with her childhood crush would make it all better. Cassie was afraid it would make it much, much worse. But she was afraid for herself, too. Afraid of how much she wanted to see Seth, and of being buried in all the bad. Seth had been a drug addict. Was a drug addict. He’d told her he’d been clean for over six years, and she believed him because he had that strength of will. But she didn’t know how strong that will would be once he was on the road again, and he had less control over what was around him, and what people demanded of him. Eagerness to please had been his major flaw. Georgie gasped and pointed into the sky. Cassie half expected her to shout, “Ze plane, ze plane!” “Calm down, will you?” She dragged the woman back by the arm. “I’ll make you wait in the car.” “I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.” She took a deep breath, holding her hands out to the sides as she exhaled. “Okay. I’m okay now. Ohmigod, no, I’m not, it’s them.” Cassie couldn’t say anything. Her throat had developed a suspicious lump. It took far too long, in Georgie’s vocal and Cassie’s silent opinions, for the plane to land, taxi to the terminal, and open. Finally, the steps unfolded, and a tall, lanky body emerged. Robert came first. He stopped at the top of the stairs, squinting against the sunlight. “Bloody hell, it’s hot,” drifted across the tarmac. Cassie smiled. Brad stuck his head out behind Robert. “Move, man, I need a fag.” 12

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Robert glared at him, then started down the steps. “God, they’re gorgeous.” Georgie was a little more subdued, now. She seemed to draw into herself and mirrored Cassie’s braced, armsfolded stance, standing slightly behind her friend, as if hiding. “Robert has certainly aged well, hasn’t he? I wonder how the rest of them look in person.” Brad hit the bottom right behind Robert and headed for the baggage compartment, which the airport crew was already unloading. Troy came out of the plane, stretched, and looked around. Even from this distance Cassie could see the grin on his face. He headed straight for her and Georgie, calling something back over his shoulder. “Hey, babe!” He swept her up in a hug, lifting her off the ground and making her laugh, despite her tension. “Great to see you.” “You, too.” She studied his salt-and-pepper hair and his blue eyes, which were a lot clearer and more focused than the last time she’d seen them. The shadows that had always been there hadn’t disappeared, however. She recognized them better now. “You okay?” “Brilliant. Great way to kick off the tour, this.” His words were dry, though, and Cassie suspected he’d had to be dragged into the whole comeback thing. “I hope so.” She let go of him and turned to introduce him to Georgie, but her friend was staring behind them, her mouth slightly slack, her gaze panicked. “Great to see you, Yoko. I’m going to get my stuff.” Troy wandered off. “Snap out of it,” Cassie muttered to Georgie. “Or I won’t let you come tonight.” That earned her a glare, but Georgie pulled herself together and finally seemed normal. Cassie hoped that was the end of the pendulum swinging. Her own emotions were enough to deal with, never mind trying to keep Georgie from going hysterical. Or hitting on Julian. She 13

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looked back at her, and the panic had faded, replaced by determination. Oh, hell, no. There was hustle and bustle all around them now. People ferrying luggage and equipment from the plane to cars, band members milling around and being courted by the theater manager and hotel owner, both of whom had insisted on being here and bringing a gaggle of staff to “support” their efforts. Cassie hadn’t fought them, figuring the guys could use the ego boost. They seemed to be sucking it up, too. Especially Julian, who was waving at the glass windows of the terminal, his purple-tipped hair covering one eye. Some things hadn’t changed. And some had. Seeettthhhhh. Cassie’s whole body sighed when she saw him, at the same moment he spotted her. He didn’t smile like Troy had. He stopped moving, as if surprised by the sight of her, then started walking slowly toward her. He looked amazingly different, and startlingly the same. His hair was darker, longer than the spiky-feathered cut he’d had in the eighties. He seemed taller, though she didn’t think that was possible, and though he was the same weight and build, he looked…fitter, or something. Stronger. More in control of his body. And his face was harder, more lined, not as pretty. She used to be fascinated by his mouth, by the smoothness of his lips. It inspired nibbles and gentle kisses, like cotton candy or something. Now it made her think of darkness and rumpled sheets. She shivered and let her arms drop. Seth stopped in front of her, his greenish-hazel eyes bearing more intensity than she’d ever seen. And something he’d lost long before she left—hope. “Hello, Cassie.” “Seth.” He didn’t know whether to take her hand or hug her or keep his 14

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distance. She seemed to be asking for all of the above at once. Her eyes held a longing he doubted she wanted him to see, but gone was the woman he’d loved fifteen years ago. Then, she’d been eager for experiences of all kinds. She’d pursued what she’d wanted passionately, whether it had been hanging with the band, marrying him, or tasting every piece of the life they’d lived. This woman had lived that life, and more. He knew most of it hadn’t been easy. They’d kept in touch, in spurts, going years without hearing from each other, then talking every night for a month. Cassie had usually called him when she was changing her life, which she’d done often. He’d called her when the road to sobriety had gotten too difficult, or when he’d fallen into its ditch, then later, when good things had started happening. In all those conversations and the empty years since they’d last spoken, he’d still pictured the girl he’d first seen backstage and shagged on a grimy couch behind a broken amp. Her hair had less size now, but of course it would. Wavy instead of curly, smooth blonde instead of platinum streaks, it framed a face of maturity. Her mouth held a twist of cynicism and wry humor, and her body was thinner, more wiry, looking both strong and brittle at the same time. He wanted her more than ever. “Cassie,” he said again, ignoring the wide-eyed librarian type standing next to her, and folding her into his arms. He didn’t care if she didn’t want it…he had to hold her. He buried his face in her neck, and she smelled the same. To his horror, his eyes prickled. He clenched them and pulled her tighter. Cassie’s arms came around his back, in reflex, he was sure, but after a moment of hesitation she was clutching him and they were rocking side to side, lost in memory and sadness of what had been. “Hey, mate, let the rest of us get a chance.” Julian slapped Seth on the back and he reluctantly let Cassie go. 15

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Julian didn’t hug her like Troy had. He flashed his trademark charming smile before he bent her over his arm and kissed her, long and deep. Seth clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes, wondering what Pete would do to him if he gave Jules a black eye before the tour even started. “Um, hi.” Seth glanced at the woman next to him. She smiled nervously. “Hi.” “I’m Georgie Davis. Cassie’s friend. This was all, um, my idea.” She fluttered her hands, glanced at Cassie and Jules, who were still kissing, then turned back to Seth without a hint of the dragon he’d just glimpsed on her face. Intrigued, he gave her his full attention. “Your idea, huh?” “Yeah, and thank you so much. It means a lot to us. Me and Cassie, and Faith and Marci and Arliss. You’ll meet them later. They’re flying in just for this. It’s such a dream come true, and we’re so grateful. I’m sure you know about our disaster twenty years ago. Arliss got us these backstage passes. We were sooooo in love with all you guys, and it broke our hearts when the limo broke down and we didn’t get to meet you. “I mean, not that it was Arliss’s fault, but the fan club was never the same after that, and then Cassie ran off, and, well, you know the rest…” She trailed off, looking uncomfortable. “Not that we look to Blue Silver as saviors or anything. We just want…um…” She didn’t seem to want to say what they wanted, but the way she looked at Julian, he could guess. It was the same way he looked at Cassie, he imagined, who was still kissing that fucking poncé. “All right, break it up.” He started to pull Cassie away from Jules, thought about how she’d react to that, and pulled Jules off of her instead. She was laughing, and so was he, and Seth turned and walked away before he punched someone. 16

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*

*

*

Cassie took advantage of Georgie’s lunch break restriction to send her on her way without a real introduction to Julian. The longer she could put that off, the better. She fielded a dozen phone calls from her office and the organizer of tomorrow’s photo shoot and media session and the organizations benefiting from this concert, while the guys finished clearing out the plane and piled into the cars for the drive to the hotel. She headed for her own car, an old Miata, glad she’d driven herself and not come with the hired cars. Being in close confines with Seth would test her right now. She hadn’t realized the impact he’d have on her. That hug… He’d smelled good. He hadn’t smelled that good in all the time they’d been together. Her senses had been dulled, admittedly, by her own excesses—smoking and alcohol and too much perfume. Those same excesses had permeated their air and skin and, combined with the constant sweat of performance and travel, had meant she almost never smelled the real Seth. She’d wanted to bite him. Hard. Then lick the bite, and bite him again somewhere else. Worse, she’d wanted to kiss him. And probably do a lot more than that, though she halted the flow of ideas before it really got going. Their relationship had never really been about sex. Not for her. She’d wanted some ideal she’d imagined, in her foolish teenage brain, was gained by fame and fortune, and had been willing to use sex to achieve that ideal. Seth, of course, had been all too happy to take the sex, and considered himself some kind of master. It wasn’t until long, long after they broke up, and she’d had several other partners of varying skill, that she realized sex with Seth hadn’t been all that good. “What are you thinking, love?” Cassie managed to stifle her jump when she heard his voice behind 17

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her. Pretending she hadn’t been standing next to her car staring into space, she slid the key into the lock and turned it. Took more concentration than pressing the button on the key fob, and gave her an excuse not to look at him. Composed, she smirked. “Thinking about how sex with you wasn’t very good, actually.” She opened the car door and leaned a hip on the jamb. Seth, to her surprise, laughed. “I’m sure it wasn’t. I sucked at a lot of things back then.” “Except singing.” “Yeah, there was that.” He sighed, his brow furrowed a little, then straightened and refocused on her. “Bum a ride?” Hell, no. “There’s a car for you.” “Gone.” He aimed a thumb over his shoulder, and she looked past him to see that all four cars were, indeed, gone. While she watched, the panel truck hired to carry the equipment followed, pulling out of the lot before she could even think about flagging it down. “All right. Get in.” She climbed into the little car and slammed the door, cranking the engine and putting the top down before Seth had circled to the passenger side. He folded his ridiculously long legs under the dash without a complaint, but his cramped position made the car seem even smaller, despite half of it being open. His knee was there every time she shifted, and it didn’t require more than a flicker of her eyeballs to see the bulge in his tight jeans. A bulge she wanted, for some stupid reason, to make uncomfortable inside the denim. Stupid. Their past held too much heartache, and there wasn’t a future for them. Seth was heading back into the world that had almost destroyed him, and she couldn’t watch it happen again. It had been a long time since she could pretend to have meaningless sex. So her brain could just stop being the most erotic organ or whatever they said it was. “So, tell me about this charity thing. Aquila Foundation? What’s that mean?” He slumped on his spine so he could rest his head on the 18

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back of the seat. That pushed his knees higher and wider, putting his leg closer to her hand. And she was in stop-and-go traffic through downtown, which meant she couldn’t avoid the gearshift. Every time her hand touched his thigh, she wanted to move it inside. “Aquila is The Eagle. A constellation. So it’s both soaring and stars.” She shrugged. “Inspirational symbolism. It raises money for most of the area charities, and a few national ones.” She told him which ones they’d picked, and they spent the drive to the hotel discussing their efforts. Cassie was surprised at how much Seth knew. And how much she enjoyed talking to him about it. “Never would have seen you here, Cass,” he admitted as she pulled into the parking garage adjacent to the hotel. “Back home, doing noble work.” “I’m hardly noble, Seth.” She jerked the car to a stop in a VIP parking spot and turned it off, turning to look at him. “I just didn’t have anywhere else to go. And I learned a lot, very early, about shmooze.” He smiled, but it was sad. He fingered the knob of the gear shift, then tilted his head to look at her sideways. “You ever wonder what our lives would be like now if we hadn’t tanked? If Blue Silver hadn’t selfdestructed, and if all these years we’d been making music?” Yeah, she had. But she couldn’t say what conclusions those wonderings had always led her to. Seth would still be on drugs, she’d still be a groupie, albeit a married one, with no life of her own. Both would have senses of self-worth that came out of a bottle and wound up in the toilet. It wasn’t worth it, even to have stayed with him. “Why are you doing this tour, Seth?” “I miss you, Cassie. I didn’t know how bloody much until I saw you standing there.” “I’m not the same person you miss.” She was aware they hadn’t answered either question. It was probably better that way. She opened her door and climbed out of the car. “Let’s go. You’ve got to get to 19

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your room, and I’m sure you and Julian need to check out the theater. They don’t have anything going on tonight, so you can talk lights and backdrops to your heart’s content.” Seth shook his head, but followed her. She hit the button to engage the alarm and led him to the elevator. When they got to the lobby she made him wait in the back hall while she found Beth, her assistant, who was responsible for checking the band in and getting them to their rooms without a mob scene. Assuming there would have been one. She still wasn’t sure how well this event, this tour, would go over. But the lobby was deserted except for Beth, who sat on the circular sofa in the center. Her suit matched the faded pink moiré taffeta, making her almost disappear. She was flipping through papers in a manila folder, but looked up with a calm smile when Cassie approached. “Everything went okay?” “Sure. The guys are all settled, except for Seth. They said he was with you.” “He is.” “Here’s his key.” Beth handed over a packet with two plastic cards inside. “I need you to sign this. Julian said he wants to talk to Seth as soon as he gets to his room. They connect, I think. Robert is in the middle and connects to Julian and Brad, who connects to Troy.” She rattled several other details Cassie didn’t care about while she signed the hotel forms, then stood. “The crew is set, too, on the other side of the hotel, but most of them headed straight for the theater with the equipment. A bit protective, I think. Okay if I head home? Or do you need me at the office any more?” “Go ahead. I’ll see you at the concert. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be at the radio station in the morning, and the photo shoot in the afternoon.” “Thanks.” Beth started to walk toward the exit, then turned back, looking both mischievous and nervous. “How…how is he? Seth, I 20

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mean?” Cassie frowned. “Fine. Why? Did someone say he wasn’t?” “No, I mean, that’s not what I mean. I meant—” She tittered. “I meant, is he as good-looking and stuff…or really, what I want to know is if you still think he’s hot.” “Get out of here.” Cassie rolled her eyes and swatted at Beth’s arm. “I’m not answering that. For cripe’s sake.” But she was laughing as she went to retrieve Seth. *

*

*

“Was it ’84 or ’85 we did the concert in Sydney with that orgy afterward?” “I don’t know. I didn’t come down for three years.” “Jules? You remember?” “I remember everything, and you know it. It was ’85, and it was fabulous.” Seth wished they’d shut the hell up. Cassie was looking more and more disgusted and despondent as they reminisced. Julian and Brad were loving both their memories and the plans they were making for new ones. Robert, as usual, was quiet on the far side of the limo they were taking to a local radio station at a god-awful hour of the morning. Troy looked desperate for a cigarette, but the limo company had said no smoking, and they were good boys now who followed such rules. Bugger it. He needed a smoke, too. He’d almost blown it last night when Cassie had taken him to his suite. Blown what, he didn’t know for sure. Something he wanted and was probably afraid to clarify. He’d followed his ex-wife into the bedroom, where she was checking some damned thing she’d requested on his behalf, and suddenly all his thoughts had been lustful. She’d turned, come up short to find him so close behind her, saw his face, and closed off. Just slammed shut. He’d never seen her do that before, and it crushed him to know she was closing herself off from him. 21

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Luckily, the radio station was close. The stupid reminiscence and the look on Cassie’s face both disappeared when they clambered out of the vehicle. “Fuck, it’s hot.” Brad lit a cigarette immediately, puffing heftily on it before they got to the door. No doubt, it was smoke-free in there, too. “Buck up, Braddie-boy.” Julian clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll be in AC all day long. The heat just makes us appreciate it.” Cassie shook her head as they reached the building. “Julian, when the hell did you become a morning person? It’s not even seven-thirty.” He chucked her on the chin. “Gotta love life, darlin’, every minute of it. It can turn ugly in an instant.” He passed her and headed into the lobby, where a suit was waiting to show them to the studio. It took a few minutes to get them settled after they met the on-air talent and were briefed on their loose plan. “Commercial’s over in thirty, guys. You all set?” Assent came through the headphones Seth wore, crowded with his mates around a semi-circular table and sharing a microphone with Julian. A moment later the announcer introduced them and started asking questions about their comeback. Julian fielded most of them, until the host turned his attention on Seth. “Seth, there are rumors you wound up here in Central PA because of your ex-wife. Can you tell us about that?” He glanced at the window, where Cassie stood watching them. She sipped placidly from her latté cup, her eyes daring him to answer. He grinned. “Cassie Bryant runs Aquila Foundation, which, as you said, is the largest charitable fundraiser in the area. One of her friends had the idea for us to come back here.” Training and an awareness of good publicity spurred him to elaborate on that. “You see, twenty years ago, we were in Hershey for our last big tour. The Silverettes, a fan club of fifteenyear-old girls, had tickets to the show and backstage passes. But their 22

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car broke down and they never made it. “So one of the girls—” he lowered his voice “—now a woman— had the idea of bringing us back. Cassie knew me, of course, and got this whole thing started. It’s a great way to kick off the tour. We’re back in an area that welcomed us lovingly twenty years ago, giving these women a chance to live the dream they missed out on, and helping out a lot of people in the process.” “You and Cassie haven’t been together for at least fifteen years, though, right? She left you?” Damn. That wasn’t how he wanted this to go. “Yes, things didn’t work out between us romantically, but we stayed great friends, kept in touch.” Julian, probably tired of the verbal spotlight being off him, leaned in and said, “Yeah, and Seth would love to reconcile, isn’t that right, Seth?” The rest of the band joined in ribbing him. Cassie’s expression didn’t change. Seth looked right at her when he said, “Right.” That set off another hoot-and-holler, and as he watched, something softened around her eyes before she spun on her heel and walked away. “Okay, we’re going to take a few callers now. Hello! Tell us your name and where you’re from.” “Hi, thank you! Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe it. Um, um, Sarah, from Carlisle. And I just love you guys. I can’t wait for the concert. Thank you soooooo much for being here!” “That’s nice, Sarah. Did you have a question for the guys?” “Oh! Yes! Julian…” Her voice turned coy. “Can we come backstage and meet you after the concert?” “Baby, if you can get past security, you deserve to meet me.” “Great. Now we’re gonna have a thousand women tryin’ to get backstage,” groused Robert. “Thanks, mate.” 23

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“Yeah, thanks, mate!” Brad threw in. “Sounds great to me.” They all laughed, except Robert and Seth. He didn’t want groupies. He didn’t want the whole after-party, truth be told. He just wanted to be with Cassie. They weren’t going to be here long, and now that he’d declared his intentions, he had to act on them quickly. Before she ran screaming. Cassie waited in the lobby after Seth’s declaration, but she couldn’t escape the broadcast, which was, of course, audible in every corner of the building. She concentrated on her coffee and her cell phone, to the receptionist’s annoyance. But she needed the distraction. He wanted to reconcile? Was he nuts? In what universe could things work between them? Even if she wanted to explore the possibility— which part of her very hungrily did—he was here for two days before heading off on a year-long tour. She had a stable job with serious obligations and couldn’t follow him, even if that life still appealed to her. And it most assuredly didn’t. Besides the exhaustion, the grime, the crowds, there was the very real possibility that routine and availability would lure Seth back into old habits. Dangerous habits. And it had broken her heart once. She couldn’t stand it if it happened again. “Well, that’s all the time the guys have,” the announcer said, to a chorus of groans all over the station. “You can find them tonight at Theater Seven in downtown Harrisburg. The show starts at eight o’clock, and a few tickets are still available. See you there!” A public service spot for Aquila Foundation came up, and the studio door opened, filling the hall with chatter. Cassie stayed where she was until they made it to the lobby, after being stopped for congratulations, thanks, and autographs. The boys were all in a chipper mood. Good, because she had a feeling the afternoon wouldn’t be so much fun. Georgie called Cassie before they were even out of the station. “I 24

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can’t believe it. What are you going to do?” Of course, she’d been listening to the show. “I don’t know, G. I can’t talk here. I’ll see you later.” “Wait! Just say yes or no. Did he mean it?” She remembered the way he looked at her. “Yeah, I think he did.” Georgie squealed. “Do you want it?” “No.” “That was awfully fast. I don’t believe you. Tell me all about it later. I have a class coming in.” She clicked off, but Cassie hadn’t even folded the phone before it rang again. She sighed and hit the answer button. This was going to be a long day. *

*

*

“Cassie, I thought you said this would be two hours.” Brad sauntered over in the pegged jeans and buckle-laden shirt the stylist had dressed him in, looking amazingly like he had twenty years ago. He crouched next to where Cassie sat on a stack of baseball-styled beanbag chairs. “You got a cig? I left mine in the limo.” “You can’t smoke in here.” He scowled at her. “I know, damn it, but they do have a back door. I’m in withdrawal.” “Sorry.” Her phone buzzed and she flipped it open. “Try Troy.” “Troy is sucking up to the photographer’s assistant.” He jerked his head toward the brightly lit side of the studio, half of which was draped in white satin as a backdrop to the flamboyant five. The assistant was fussing over Troy’s collar. He’d whined to Cassie about having to do the photo shoot, but he didn’t look like he was hating it. “I know they’re late,” she told the theater manager, who was fretting into her ear. “I don’t know. Another hour, at least. It can’t be helped, and they’ll have plenty of time for sound check. Trust me.” It took her several more minutes to convince the theater manager—a 25

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trick, since she wasn’t convinced herself. In the meantime, Brad wandered off in search of his nicotine and Seth materialized at her side. She closed the phone slowly, willing it to ring again, especially when he held his hand out to her. “I want to talk a minute.” “You’re busy.” “They’re doing solo shots, and I’m done. Retro Beat magazine wants to do a sidebar focus on me and Jules, but they’ll be a while before they do our photos. I just want a minute. Please.” She wanted to say no. She knew he wanted to talk about the reconciliation he’d mentioned on the radio, and she wasn’t ready for that. Plus, they really needed more than a few stolen minutes in a changing room. But before she could protest, he’d hauled her to her feet and tugged her toward that very door. He closed it behind them, then engaged the lock. Fuck. “What are you thinking?” Seth made no move to sit or come closer to where she stood in the center of the clothing- and makeup-strewn room. She took the easy way. “About what?” He just looked at her. “Seth, we can’t talk about this now.” “Just tell me if I’m full of shit, thinking it’s possible.” She had so many questions. Protests. Longings. And someone was going to bang on that door looking for him any minute. There was no time for any of it. So she said the only thing she could. “You’re not full of shit. Not completely, any—” Then Seth was there. His mouth touched hers, one hand drove into her hair, and the other caressed her neck. And holy crap, was he not full of shit. He was familiar. So familiar—the taste of him, the feel of his body near hers. The texture of his fingertips. But different, too. His mouth 26

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was more practiced. His touch was gentle and caressing on one side, but possessive and needy on the back of her head. He stroked her mouth with his tongue, and she opened eagerly for it. They took their time, relearning each other. Seth moved his hand from her neck to her lower back and eased her closer, until she was aligned with his body. She couldn’t believe it felt so good. She’d been with big, brawny construction workers, graceful businessmen, and enthusiastic weekendwarrior athletes. Sex with them, while at widely varying levels of pleasure, had always seemed a step above the sex that came with her marriage. She realized why now. Seth had been a boy, despite his age. Untrained, but even more, unconcerned. He was all man now, in the way he held his body, but more in the way he held her. God, he was focused on her. She had all his attention, as if he cared what she was feeling. Cared that she knew what he was feeling. She broke the kiss, pulling her lips in to keep his taste from fading. Seth rested his forehead on hers and didn’t let go of her. “Cassie.” The word was a breath. Before she could respond, or he could say anything else, the expected knock came on the door. “Seth, mate, they want us.” “I’ll be right there,” he called to Julian. “There’s more,” he murmured, tightening his hold a little. “There’s more there now than when you left.” She nodded. There was nothing else to do. “When? When will there be any sodding time to explore it?” “We’ll find it,” she assured him, touching his cheek. Julian banged on the door with his fist. “Seth, man, come on. We’ve gotta get to sound check. I’m not trusting my board to those wankers.” “Go. I’m not leaving.” She smiled. “Not after a kiss like that.” 27

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He smiled back, pressed his lips to hers briefly and let her go. “You’re damn right you’re not.” Cassie rushed the photographer after that. She had to shut off her phone, after half a dozen increasingly shrill phone calls from Pete, but he had reason to be shrill. They were way behind schedule. Eventually, though, she was standing in the wings, watching them perform their old routines, and it was surreal how much the same it all was. They said the same things, made the same moves, maneuvered around each other and the equipment with a naturalness that made the past twenty years disappear. Soon, they were performing “Making Noise,” their number one hit from the third, and most successful, album. “Déjà vu, eh?” Pete stood at her elbow, grinning. “Yeah.” “Just like old times. ’Cept for the differences.” He shoved his hands in his back pockets and watched for a minute. “Julian’s gonna have a fit about that light. I’d better talk to Mac.” He didn’t move, though. “You’re not gettin’ any ideas, I hope.” Cassie lifted one eyebrow. “About what?” “About joinin’ us again. I mean, this was a good idea and all, this concert.” He said it grudgingly. “But I don’t think the boys need the distraction of having you around.” He waited, but Cassie didn’t respond. She was too angry. Pete shrugged and walked away, presumably to find Mac about the light on Julian. She stood there, boiling, until the sound check was over and Seth walked toward her across the stage, grinning. “That was bloody fantastic!” Cassie grabbed his wrist and yanked him off the stage. He stumbled after her, while she searched for an empty room down the backstage hallway. 28

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“What the hell, Cassie?” She could hear the smile in his voice, and it irrationally made her angrier. “Just shut up.” He did. She found a small dressing room that was dark and empty, dragged him into it, and slammed the door. Before she could open her mouth, Seth had reversed her direction and slammed her against him and his back against the door. His mouth landed on hers, unerring even in the dark, and somehow his hands were up under the back of her shirt. For an instant, Cassie forgot why she’d pulled him back here. He tugged her closer, into the V of his wide-braced legs, and she leaned on him, letting her hands tangle in his hair and her tongue tangle with his. Her body started to hum, and she echoed it in her throat. A second later, she jerked away when his left hand found her breast. She glowered, realized he couldn’t see her in the dark, and reached to flip on the light next to the door. Overhead fluorescents flickered to life, making Seth look green. “What the fuck are you doing?” She touched the back of her hand to her mouth. Seth looked dazed. “Kissing you. Being kissed. What—” “I didn’t bring you back here for a quick lay.” “Too bad.” He crossed his arms and ankles and settled more comfortably against the door. The position put his erection on display, confined as it was in his jeans. For an instant, Cassie reconsidered arguing with him. “Okay,” he continued, “what did you bring me back here for?” Then she remembered. Pete’s comment. Troy calling her “Yoko.” Seth’s initial reluctance to do this concert. “Do they blame me for the band breaking up?” “What?” He looked startled, as if that wasn’t at all what he was expecting. “Hell, no.” But the response was knee-jerk, she could tell. She could see it in 29

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his eyes. The discomfort as he realized what she meant. “They do. They think it’s all my fault.” She didn’t know why it mattered so much. She knew it wasn’t true. At best, she’d only been part of the equation. Burnout, drugs and alcohol, and unrelenting proximity had taken Blue Silver down. She might have taken part in all of it, but she wasn’t responsible for it. “Do you think it was my fault?” The question came out softer than anything about Cassie had been in years, and she realized that was the crux of it. She didn’t care what the others thought, only what Seth thought. And she could see it in his eyes. The sting of tears surprised her and she spun away, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Cassie.” His hands landed on her shoulders, squeezed softly, then stroked down her arms and wrapped around her. His hands gripped her wrists, and he rested his chin on her shoulder. “No one blames you. Not directly.” She appreciated his honesty, but a smaller dagger still caused pain. “I can see why they would. After all, the band had no problems until I came along. After you and I got married, it was all downhill.” “Yeah, some of them thought that.” “All of them. Troy calls me Yoko.” She felt him smile and wanted to hit him, but he still held her trapped. “It’s a pet name, love. He fancied you.” She snorted. “No way. He got all the tail he wanted back then. Probably since, too.” “Didn’t matter. He wanted the one he couldn’t have, and that might have been part of his disillusionment at the end. Brad had a very hard time accepting our crash and burn. At first he ranted about groupies who didn’t know their place and drove a wedge between mates. Then 30

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he ranted about women who held a gang together and then let it fall apart when it didn’t suit them anymore. But he knew it wasn’t true.” Cassie didn’t care about any of that. “And you?” He sighed and his breath raised goosebumps along her jaw and neck. “Me. I blamed everyone but me for a long time, and yeah, you headed the list. But you know that changed when I did rehab.” He was right. There had been several long conversations over the years. Two years after she left had been the first one, when he’d been following a script and didn’t really mean what he was saying. Four years later he’d tried again. It might have been the last time she cried. He’d poured more out to her than he’d probably said to his counselors and addiction groups, including the confession that he’d placed responsibility for all his problems on her for far too long. He apologized, admitted it was all his fault, and swore never to shift blame again. He’d lapsed once, that she knew of, since then. It was less than two years after the big one, and he’d claimed to have only smoked pot, but the hunger it generated for something stronger had scared him into another twenty-eight-day program. He’d called in the middle of the night, at the end of the program, and told her everything was going to be all right. As far as she could tell, it had been. “We okay?” He kissed the side of her neck, but she ignored him. “Why are you doing this, Seth? This tour? The new album? When it did you so much damage before?” “It’s the music, Cass. For all of us, always, it’s the music.” His mouth was moving up to her ear now, his tongue slipping out to taste her, his teeth nipping at her lobe. “I love to perform. I love to travel. And I love my mates. But…” His mouth went back to the base of her neck, to suck on the curve of her shoulder. She sighed and tilted her head back. He moved forward, to her pulse point, and sucked again. Tingles swept through her body. 31

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“But what?” she whispered. Seth’s hands tightened, pulling her back against him. He was hard again. Or still. And hot from the lights and the little bit of exertion on the stage. She felt that wave of familiarity and newness again, and an urge to discover all his differences. “But I need absolution, too, Cassie.” He lifted his head so his cheek was next to hers. His lips were close to her mouth. She fought not to turn her head, to let him finish what he was saying. “If this tour succeeds, it will undo all the pain of the past. I need that. I need you.” The last three words were said so quietly she wasn’t sure she heard them. She knew she didn’t care. She moved her head so his mouth brushed hers, and waited. He said her name again, a groan, and she responded with his. Assent. This time, when they kissed, it started mid-burn. Heat followed the path of the earlier tingles, leaving aches in its wake. She wanted his hands on her, his mouth on her. She wanted all of him. Seth turned her in his arms without breaking the kiss. He didn’t want to ever let her mouth go. His hands skimmed, seemingly of their own accord, down her back, across her waist, gripping her hips, around to her ass, rocking her against him, then back up her spine to the nape of her neck. He gripped her there, holding her while he took the kiss deeper, wider, wanting to devour her. God, he had to be inside her. Like before. No, not like before. Better than before. Every time would be better than before. She deserved it. Cassie drew in a sharp breath when he put his hand on her breast. He groaned at the feel of her flesh in his hand. Her breast was lower, smaller, but her nipple harder than he could remember ever making it before. He tested it between his fingers. Cassie arched, breaking the kiss, and he supported her with his arm across her back, while he 32

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shoved up her shirt and bent to taste her nipple. She pressed on the back of his head when he sucked it between his lips, rolled it with his tongue, flicked it, nibbled it, and started all over again. The shirt was in his way. He paused long enough to rip it over her head. She did the same to his T-shirt, then tossed it on the ground with hers. Both breasts, unbound, were his. God, he loved it when she didn’t wear a bra. But he couldn’t support her and touch her, too. He looked wildly around and spotted a couch against the far wall. Swung them over to it, turned, and fell, pulling her as he went so she straddled him. She leaned back, studying him, looking not nearly as lost in this as he was. “Just like old times, huh?” Fuck. She’s right. The first time he’d met her—she’d been following the band for a few weeks, but he’d only seen her in passing until one day she managed to get backstage. She’d come on to him, and he’d taken what she offered. On a filthy couch in a bloody dressing room, with bright fluorescent lights taking all the romance out if it. As if there’d been any in the first place. Just like now. He should stop. Leave her at peace. His dick throbbed its vote, definitely not liking that notion. She felt it and grinned. “It’s okay, Seth.” “It’s not.” He drew her down to his chest and cradled her. “God, Cassie, I’m sorry. I don’t want to repeat history.” She tensed, then pulled back. He made to grab her but she was too quick, sliding off his lap, grabbing her shirt, and tugging it on in smooth, efficient motions. Her face was a mask. “Cassie…” “I didn’t want to do this at all.” She pulled her hair from her collar, huffed out a breath, and turned to face him. “Why are you doing this tour, Seth?” 33

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“I thought I already answered that.” She waited. He ran his hand through his hair, but she still waited. Finally, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and shook his head. “You won’t believe me.” “Of course I will.” But he could see in her face that she wouldn’t. She didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t very well blame her, could he? “I’m doing the tour because, despite it all, it was the happiest time in my life. I’m a singer, Cassie, not a bartender or a park attendant or a bloody instrument repair technician or any of the other fifty-odd jobs I’ve done to scrape out a living for fifteen years.” He looked up. She was watching him, and her expression had softened. “I love these guys, Cass. I love the band, and the crew, and the energy of performing. I love the music. Even the crap Brad writes.” She didn’t laugh, so he let his smile fade. “I want our new album to do well enough that they let us do another. So I can make music the rest of my life.” Cassie sighed and crossed the small distance that separated them. She cradled his head against her abdomen and stroked his hair. “I’m worried, Seth. There’s a lot of temptation out there.” He knew she’d been thinking about that, had just accepted that she had no reason to trust him, but her words sent a wave of fury through him strong enough to bring him to his feet and knock her back a few steps. She didn’t look surprised by his movement, or his anger, and that made it worse. “Like I’m not aware of the dangers? Like I’m willing to throw away my hard-won sobriety, my second chance, for that crap?” Something in him rebelled at the word. It hadn’t been crap. Not when he was high. When he was high, the fear was at bay. The fear that swamped him when they dropped off the Top Forty list, or didn’t sell out a venue, or 34

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when he went unrecognized through an airport. The high had kept it all away. It was only crap when he came down. So he stayed high. And lost it all anyway. The remembered desperation faded. “It’s always there, Cassie, the need. I’ll never get rid of it. But I’ll never succumb to it again, either.” You will, said the voice of self-doubt that also never went away. But he knew how to banish it. He would banish it tonight, here in Theater Seven, and again two nights later in Columbus. Then in New York, and wherever else the tour took him. Seth drew a deep breath, filling his lungs to capacity, then let it out almost more slowly than was possible. Calm replaced everything else. “I’ll be okay, Cassie. And if you’ll give us a chance, we could be okay, too.” She looked at him, finally letting her mask slip. She chewed her lower lip and he held his breath, hoping. But she shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” Then she left. *

*

*

The crowd was enormous. Cassie stood in front of the stage, crammed between Arliss and Faith and feeling absurdly excited. It helped that her friends were all thrilled to be here and acting like more sophisticated versions of their fifteen-year-old selves. Marci kept squealing and jumping up and down, but her clothes said she knew exactly what she was advertising and what to do with it. A direct contrast to the groups of teenagers peppering the audience, kids just like the Silverettes, who advertised, but moved as if terrified of someone buying. Cassie was pleased with the crowd. Not just the size, but the demographics. All age ranges, though skewed female, and enough eighties’ styles to make it feel like a costume party. They sang Blue Silver songs, chanted for the band, and buzzed with anticipation. 35

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“I can’t believe we’re really here,” Arliss yelled into Cassie’s ear. She grinned. “Maybe you guys will forgive me now.” Cassie shook her head. “There’s nothing to forgive, Arliss. For God’s sake, get over it!” But she grinned, too, and had to check the impulse to hug the shorter woman. She wished there’d been time to talk to her and Marci and Faith earlier, but by the time they’d hit the hotel, she was running in circles for last-minute after-party details. Georgie would kill her if the after-party went bust. It was a new sensation, being worried about what her friends thought. It made her realize she’d turned her life into an emotional desert, and this felt so much better, she didn’t know why she’d done it. The overhead lights dimmed, and screams welled toward the ceiling. Cassie leaned forward and checked her friends. Faith and Marci were screaming, too, arms in the air, as lights began to flash on the stage. Arliss’s grin had faded, and Cassie couldn’t read her expression. Georgie’s was all-too-easy to read as she stared at the keyboard, where a shadowy figure now stood. She had only a moment to worry about her intentions and the broken heart she was heading for, when the familiar beats of “Making Noise” sounded and she forgot about everything but Seth. “She paved a play to make some noise and made it down on me.” God, he was magnificent. She’d die before she ever told him so, but as he strode across the stage, the microphone against his mouth and his arm wide, as if welcoming an approaching embrace, she melted. Just like she’d done at fifteen, every time she watched their videos or looked at his face on her wall, and later, when she watched him sing at every concert. His stage presence was stronger now. His voice more confident, deeper and smoother, but the same voice that had sailed Blue Silver to the big time once before. They played “Behind the Mask” and “Her Eyes” interspersed with 36

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some of their smaller hits and songs from the new album, which were easy to pick out because they, like the guys, were more mature and more sophisticated than they’d been back in the day. Cassie let the music wash over her and hardly took her eyes off Seth, though she could see Julian preening and romping like he was having enthusiastic, self-indulgent sex, and Troy back on his drums, stoically lost in the rhythm and drive. And damned if she didn’t want this again, too. To travel with the band and feel this energy, this passion, every night. Part of the joy of being Seth’s wife had been sharing the experience they’d created as a group. Not just the band, but the crew and the promoters and the venue reps and even the suits from the record label. After two hours of magic, the lights softened and a spot came on Seth, who started talking to the audience. He thanked the Aquila Foundation and named each charity benefiting from the concert. Then he recognized a group of kids from Ten Steps to the Moon, calling them onto the stage and interviewing them briefly on what TSM had done for them. She could imagine the headlines tomorrow in the Arts section of the paper. Pete would call it fucking good press. Cassie called it heartbreaking. Finally, he pitched their new album, Renewal, and told them they were going to do one last song. Then he came to the front of the stage, looked down at her, and—with Julian’s soulful keyboard, Robert’s wailing guitar, Brad’s throbbing bass, and Troy’s slow drums behind him—Seth sang to her. “You found me when I wasn’t looking…” Her friends all turned to look at her. The crowd was utterly silent, struck by the power of his voice. He sang with more love than he’d ever portrayed in any song, any words, any action of their entire marriage. “We had all the hope in the world…” 37

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A girl a row or two behind her screamed, “He’s singing to me, oh, my God,” and there was a minor commotion that Cassie hardly noticed. “Now your eyes are open…” She felt a hand on her back. Faith’s, she thought vaguely. Comfort or congratulations? Which did she want? Seth’s eyes burned into her. “You see we don’t have heaven…” The words seemed to fade away. Her heart had stopped, along with her breathing, and it was just the two of them for long, long moments. “We’ve lost our forever…” She thought her heart broke before, when Seth was treating those kids with such respect? That had been a pang compared to now. The pain in Seth’s voice traced a pattern of cracks and slashes that burst outward on his final notes, when she saw a tear slide down his cheek. The song was over. Seth held her gaze for one more long moment and then sound exploded around them. The audience went ballistic, surging forward and cramming them into the front of the stage as the band blew kisses and tromped off. The stage went dark, the house lights went up, and the audience settled into the usual slow-moving mass toward the exits. It was over. And Cassie was never going to be the same. *

*

*

“It was on their fifth album.” “They didn’t have a fifth album.” “Yes, they did! That one with the song with the thing. They couldn’t get distribution, but that song got airplay.” Cassie could hear her friends arguing, but couldn’t seem to open her mouth. She didn’t remember the song. How could she have never heard the song? The fifth album had been half done when she left Seth. He had never mentioned it, not through the ridiculous divorce proceedings or the phone conversations since. But Marci was insistent it was an old song, not one that had just been written. 38

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“She’s right,” Arliss spoke up. “I heard it once.” She looked at Cassie. “I thought it was about you, but we weren’t in touch or anything.” She let the sentence end kind of awkwardly, and suddenly everyone was staring at Cassie. Somehow, she pulled herself together. “Come on. The after-party’s backstage. They’ll be waiting for us.” They maneuvered through the staff and crew, flashing the badges Cassie had gotten them at the door to the hallway leading backstage, sharing grins and giggles as they were ushered through. They saw the guys right away, Julian and Seth hugging and yelling at Pete, and Troy on his way to the booze table. Cassie saw the look on Georgie’s face and headed her off by steering her friends as a group to where Brad and Robert were talking. She made introductions and immediately crossed the room to Julian, hating her disappointment when she saw Seth had already moved away. Julian hailed her, so she talked to him for a minute, then checked in with the charity reps and got herself some food before joining Faith for a cigarette in the alley. Troy joined them, and she faded back as soon as she saw what was happening there. Were all her friends going to hook up tonight? For the first time, the thought didn’t carry the doom and gloom she’d felt since Georgie had proposed this concert. So what if they did? They were adults now, and things were decidedly different than they’d been twenty years ago. The guys were different—well, all except for Julian—and the dangers didn’t seem so powerful. She’d just gone back inside when Robert hailed her. “Cassie, I believe Ms. Edgeworth would like to have a conversation with you.” She peered into the room her old friend and the guitar player had to themselves. “Where is everyone?” Arliss asked. “In the after-party. What’s up?” “I just thought we should all, you know, spend some time together tonight. The Silverettes.” 39

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Cassie jumped on the suggestion. Anything to avoid the fawning crowds. “I could use a break. Let me get the others. At least, the ones I can find.” She corralled Marci and Faith and dragged them back with her. Georgie had disappeared, and Cassie couldn’t spot Julian either. Part of her wanted to go find them and stop whatever they were doing, but she blocked it out of her mind. Georgie was a big girl. If she made a mistake, she knew how to live with it. Arliss turned to Robert. “Robert, you have to go now.” “Can I come back when you’re done?” Floored, Cassie felt her jaw drop. Robert and Arliss? The woman would tear him to shreds. Marci teased Arliss about her conquest, and she made a lame excuse. Fuck. They really were all going to hook up tonight. They talked about the concert and pushed her into reminiscing, comparing. It wasn’t as terrible as she’d have thought. There were good memories in there, buried under the crap. “I went to a Blue Silver concert,” Arliss broke in. “Lucky girl!” Marci said. “I bet that rocked.” “When?” Cassie asked. “College. I looked for you, but I didn’t see you.” “You wouldn’t have.” She would have been in the back, ready to party. Faith and Marci teased Arliss about Robert, the only band member who didn’t deserve his reputation. “Robert’s a good guy,” she said, “even if he never has much to say.” The banter went on, taking on an edge Cassie didn’t like. She tensed, watching Arliss’s face. “I wouldn’t say I was tossing my panties,” Arliss quipped. “More like my cookies.” Here it came. The ball of whatever made Arliss so angry was about 40

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to open up onto them, and it was about damned time, in Cassie’s opinion. She watched, impassive, feeling detached from the whole thing, though she was probably more culpable than any of them. She’d started the damned fan club after all. “You two always had a tight bond. Georgie and Cassie did, too. And then there was me. Something tells me it would’ve been fine without me.” “Not true,” Marci protested. “You were one of us, a Silverette.” Arliss looked at Cassie. “What about Georgie? Why didn’t she go to a concert?” “She had her reasons.” Not that she would tell them about Asscrack Joe. Faith started looking motherly. “How much did you have to drink? Cassie, Robert wouldn’t have put anything in her—” “No,” she bit out. “I have a reason for being here tonight, too, and it doesn’t have anything to do with Blue Silver.” Arliss inhaled deeply. “Here’s the irony. Besides what Cassie did, which doesn’t fall under the heading of normal anyway, I’m the only one who made it to a concert, and I don’t even like Blue Silver.” “Bullshit,” Marci said. “You were an even bigger fanatic than—” “Let her talk, Marc,” Faith interrupted, not taking her eyes off Arliss. “I know you were all pissed at me that night.” “That was a long time ago,” Cassie said. “Water under the bridge.” She wished she could make her believe it. “After that night, I never felt comfortable around any of you.” Faith held up a hand. “Not because of anything we did.” “You say that now, but it didn’t look like that from where I was standing.” Arliss’s voice began to shake. “I imagine it had as much to do with what happened to Dad as anything, but I just wanted to say, 41

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once and for all, it wasn’t my damn fault! The stupid concert? The limo? The bad luck? Not…my…fault.” Cassie waited until she’d refocused. “Nobody said it was,” she tried to reassure her. “You all thought it.” Faith shook her head. “We were just kids, hon. It was a tough disappointment for all of us. Teenagers can really wallow in their black moods sometimes.” “But did you have to avoid me afterward? I could’ve used some support. After two years, I didn’t even merit any follow up?” “You avoided us,” Marci said. “And, you know, with your Mom…” Probably the wrong thing to say. How could any of them understand what Arliss had gone through? It had caused them to avoid her back then, not knowing what to say. Cassie, for one, had been too focused on her own, albeit far smaller, miseries. And she’d never outgrown that selfishness, she realized. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this now,” she said. “Maybe we should,” Arliss retorted. “Unless you all have better things to do than spend time with your old friend Arliss. Oh, wait.” Faith tried to counsel her, then Cassie tried placation, but Arliss kept snapping at them like a hurt dog, cornered by bullies. Hateful words flew, and Marci stormed out. Cassie was wondering if she should go find security when Robert returned, his calm flowing over all of them, even Arliss. He carried a mug that contained, no doubt, one of his herbal remedies, and Cassie was ashamed to feel relieved for handing her over to him. They should be making things right. Fixing her. They were her friends. “Ladies, make your escape. I’ll take over.” Arliss jumped up and yelled, “You asked me here. Asked me to come be with you. Get together. The Silverettes. And then you took off as soon as we got to the after-party. You’re going to leave me alone?” 42

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“Robert, if she wants us to stay…” Cassie put a hand on Arliss’s arm, trying not to flinch when Arliss tensed. “Trust me, Cass. Go.” His eyes were knowing, understanding, and she knew Arliss would be in good hands. Maybe more than that. She nodded. “We’ll see you in the morning, Arliss. I promise. Robert, thank you.” He smiled, Arliss opened her mouth to yell again, and the door closed behind her. Cassie tried to go back to the party. But Seth was cornered by reporters for half an hour, and she watched him with a craving she’d thought long banished. His mouth was lush and full as he talked. His eyes burned with the passion of the music he’d just created. She wanted him. As much as she’d been convinced earlier, in the dressing room, that it was a huge mistake to sleep with him again, she was now convinced it would be a mistake not to. She slipped up to the theater’s balcony, thinking. She was not a fanciful person. Anyone who knew her, then or now, would laugh at the notion. But she was starting to feel like this was destiny, her and Seth, and that if she did the wrong thing, made a decision that would lose him, she would never be happy again. He didn’t make a sound when he came up the carpeted stairs a short time later, but she knew when he reached the top. She could smell him, his scent enhanced by his on-stage exertions. And her body could feel him approaching. She didn’t look up, paralyzed by the fear of making the wrong move or saying the wrong thing. Seth didn’t say a word. He entered the row behind her and settled his hands on her shoulders for a light instant before he slid them down her arms, tugging them loose from her sides. He didn’t unwrap them completely, only forced her to relax and open up a little. She did, unclenching her fists from the fabric of her shirt and letting her head 43

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fall back to the top of the seat. His fingers traced over her skin, the barest touch up her neck, across her cheeks, her collarbone. Her lips. She let her tongue flick out to taste him. His hand withdrew, and she opened her eyes a slit to see him press the pads of his fingers to his own mouth. It was uncalculated, something he did for himself, and it touched her in a way seduction never would. When her eyes drifted closed again, his hand returned, along with his warmth as he somehow positioned himself behind her, up close with his face near hers. She held still, letting him introduce their journey. His hand dipped down into her shirt, a drape-necked shiny thing that had reminded her of the eighties and had her indulging in unaccustomed fancy. She was braless beneath it—one of the few positives associated with small breasts—and his palm grazed first one, then the other nipple. He buried his face in her neck as he stroked her. She didn’t move, letting her body go languid in the pleasure of his touch. When her nipples beaded, he applied more pressure, gently squeezing and pinching, until she couldn’t keep her breathing even or her body from arching into his hand. His right arm was over her shoulder and across her body, his right hand covering her left breast. He held it there and slid his left arm over the seat and up under the snug waist of her top. He stroked it across her abdomen and then down, inside her waistband, to finger her hipbone. Cassie let her eyes flutter open to make sure the theater was still empty, then closed them again, making an involuntary noise in her throat when his hand slipped lower. She shifted in her seat, giving him better access, and rested her arm on top of his. His breath caught, then hummed out of him, even while his long fingers responded to her subtle signal and went yet lower, parting her. He stroked lightly at first, then dipped down into her core to gather moisture on his fingers, then up again to circle her clit. She gasped at 44

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the first rush of pleasure through her body. Her head tilted further back, and Seth raised his head and clamped his mouth over hers, his lips and tongue conveying the same thing his words had not two hours before. She let go of his arm and put her hand to the back of his head, holding him to her, while she let her kiss give him her response. His hand moved faster the tighter she pulled his mouth to her and she arched, helpless as the orgasm approached. It had been so long since she’d had sex of any kind that it was on her too soon, too small, yet still better than anything she’d felt in years. Her mouth went slack as she let it wash over her. Seth didn’t move, his mouth still touching hers, absorbing her silent cry. His hand slowed, pressed once, and then was gone. A moment later, so was he. Cassie sat there for a few minutes, evaluating. He wasn’t wham-bamming her, because he didn’t get any bam, so she assumed he was trying to give her the space she’d been forcing between them all day. Maybe he was trying to show her things would be different, and was leaving the next step up to her. It was a smart strategy. She’d had only a taste, nowhere close to enough to be satisfied. He’d put his attention, once again, completely on her. That had been turning her on since the moment he’d gotten off the plane, because it was so foreign to what he’d given her before. But it had to go both ways. She’d been just as selfish as he in their marriage. If there was any hope of a reconciliation, she had to show him that it couldn’t be all about her. Was she really thinking reconciliation? With the obstacles of the tour and how his mates felt about her, and her job and friends here, not to mention his addictions and all the other temptations of the life he was resuming? Her lips lifted. Hell, yeah, she was. *

*

*

Seth knew he’d done the right thing, leaving Cassie alone to think. 45

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But it didn’t stop him from watching for her. A dozen groupies and twice as many fans asked him for autographs and kisses. He provided the former on paper only and declined the latter. He would have sent them to Julian, but he was still missing, so he aimed them at Troy and Brad instead. “And my mom? Like, she thinks you’re the coolest.” The teenybopper in front of him giggled in accompaniment with her three friends, and Seth wondered how the hell she’d wound up back here. She reminded him uncomfortably of the young Cassie, who’d been desperate to ride the Blue Silver wave as her ticket to whatever she thought she needed. This girl had the same look in her eyes, though loads more predatory than Cassie’s. “Who’s your mom, love?” he asked absentmindedly, scanning the crowd again. “Cassie Bryant.” “What?!” The word exploded out of him, shock and horror freezing his heart in his chest. He stared at the girl, who paused in smacking her gum and twirling a lock of her hair to frown at him. “Sally Dyant. Do you know her? I always thought she was just, like, a lame fan. She works for the distributor that got the booze for the party, and they said we could come here. She didn’t say she knew you.” Relief flooded him so hard he stepped back and actually put a hand on his chest. “No. No, I don’t know Sally Dyant. Sorry. I thought you said some—” He stopped speaking when the woman in question—Cassie, not Sally—separated him from the teenagers with her arm around his waist and her body pressed full frontal to his. She tipped her head and whispered in his ear, “If we can get out of here unseen, we can go to my house,” then laced her fingers into his and led him away. Seth didn’t look back, not in apology to the girl he was being rude 46

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to, not to signal his band mates or Pete, or even to see if anyone was watching them go. He put his full trust and hope into Cassie, and she didn’t let him down. They wound their way through a maze of back halls to a fire door on the far side of the building from the room the party was in. Cassie’s Miata was parked a foot from the exit, and no one was around when they got in and pulled away, top up to help keep them incognito. “Why didn’t the alarm go off?” Seth slouched on his spine and pulled up his knees, both out of necessity and to hide, as Cassie sped down the main thoroughfare past groups of bar hoppers. “I disconnected it. The owner showed me how, in case we needed to get you guys out of there in a hurry. He’ll reset it.” She downshifted for a light, then hit the gas again when it changed. “There were a few photographers outside the front entrance, but that was it. I bet there are more in your hotel, though, so I thought we’d go to my house, where we’ll have complete privacy.” “But no room service.” She flashed him a look. “I cook.” “Well, that’s new.” She snorted. “Had to learn, once I didn’t have people to wait on me, didn’t I?” He smiled at her. “You’re starting to sound British again, love.” She’d picked up words and phrases and even a bit of the accent, living with him in London when they weren’t touring. He’d noticed how fast she shed it, and wondered if it meant anything that she was backsliding. “You offering to make me breakfast?” She didn’t say anything. Had he assumed too much? Before he could come up with something else to say, she was pulling up a cement driveway to a small, two-story white house with black shutters. Cassie parked at the top of the drive, and Seth followed her through a side door into a tiny kitchen, then through a swinging door into a 47

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combination living room/dining area, and up the stairs to her bedroom. He thought he should comment on the dark blue fabric and light wood décor, but while he was looking around, Cassie was stripping off her clothes. Surprised into immobility, he watched as she shucked her loose top and snug trousers, and the scrap of panties underneath. In seconds, she was naked. Unlike just about any other woman he’d known, however, she didn’t pose for him, either seductively or bashfully. She attacked instead, ripping his shirt open and fusing her mouth to his before he could say a word or make a move. Shock only lasted so long under such an onslaught. She was naked. She was attacking him. Her mouth was hot and wet and made him think of where else she would be hot and wet, and what he might do to get her there. But his brain began to fuzz out because her breasts were rubbing all over his chest, and his hands were full of her hips and arse and smooth, silky thigh. Her hands were everywhere, tweaking his nipples and tugging his hair and getting his fly open so his pants could be shoved down. She got them over his hips, then used her feet to drag them to his ankles while her hands squeezed him, testing his hardness. He began to ache with wanting to be inside her. Seth leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her waist to bring her tight against him. “You’re so soft,” he murmured against her throat. She smelled good. Faintly of smoke and hairspray and the combined odors of all the people who had been around her backstage, but mostly of her own desire. He needed to slow them down. She’d said sex with him sucked. He had to show her it didn’t have to be that way. Cassie didn’t seem to be on his wavelength. She shoved him back, hard, so he fell against the wall. He hadn’t regained any balance when she closed her mouth over his cock, and his eyes rolled back in his 48

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head. “Bloody hell, Cassie.” It was all he could manage. She had her fist around his base, her mouth sucking hard as she pumped him, then suddenly took him all the way in, surrounding him. She swirled her tongue and scraped with her teeth on the way up, slowly and just grazing, but enough to make him shudder. She released him completely before starting again, and, within a few strokes, he was ready to explode. “No.” He jerked his hips back and lifted her by the elbows. He meant to move to the bed, but she flashed a condom, licked her lips, and smoothed it over him with practiced ease that made him scowl. “Fuck me, Seth.” She said it against his chest, with her mouth on his nipple and his dick in her hand. What the hell else was he going to do? “Are you ready?” He hoped to hell she was ready. She tossed her hair back and met his eyes. “Completely.” “Brilliant.” With as much finesse as he could muster he spun them, lifted her by the thighs, and impaled her. He managed to keep from smacking her head on the wall, but she hit hard anyway. She didn’t seem to notice. Her head was back, her arms around his neck, her nails digging into his shoulder blades. The look on her face was ecstasy, and while he couldn’t see how it could possibly be that good for her, she was wet enough and convulsive enough around him that he didn’t question it. She rocked her hips and lifted her breasts, moaning with need and frustration. “I said fuck me, Seth.” So Seth fucked her. His grip on her hips tight enough to bruise, he held her against the wall and slammed himself into her, over and over, watching her face and her breasts and her mouth and hearing her cries and feeling her cunt squeezing him, tighter and tighter in unison with her nails in his back, until she suddenly convulsed and screamed. He 49

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came in a burst that brought sparks to his vision and ringing in his ears, then pulsed over and over as he came down. “You’re going to drop me,” Cassie whispered. She was now draped limply over his shoulders, her legs dead weight in his hands. His legs vibrated. “Never,” he whispered back. He shifted her and started to turn toward the bed. “No. Clean sheets.” Her mumbling made her sound half asleep already. “Shower. You rocked tonight.” Seth chuckled. He had, in more ways than one. He didn’t ask which way she meant. “Where’s the shower?” “Hall.” He groaned. “No bloody way I’m making it out there.” He tried to slowly let her down, and they laughed at the uncooperativeness of their bodies. “I hope you have plenty of hot water.” “It lasts.” She didn’t look at him when they went into the small bathroom across the hall. Seth realized why it seemed so small—even compared to the rest of the house—when he saw the gigantic Jacuzzi tub and hand-held shower head. He grinned at her. “Interesting possibilities there.” But Cassie’s answering smile looked tired, and he realized she’d been on the go since they’d landed. He was still flying from the concert, but her orgasm appeared to have wrung her dry. The possibilities could wait. They washed each other without much stimulation, dried, brushed teeth—Seth found sharing her toothbrush oddly intimate and could almost hear Julian calling him a fucking pansy—and crawled into the crisp, smooth sheets of her double bed. Seth spooned her against him and closed his eyes, but he had to wait for the pain in his chest to subside before he could fall asleep. 50

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It was still dark when he woke. They hadn’t moved, and Cassie was still deeply asleep. He was facing her alarm clock, which read four a.m. They’d had maybe three hours of sleep. They needed more. But the red numbers meant more than lack of sleep—they meant lack of time. Lack of opportunity to win her over, to convince her he meant it when he talked of reconciliation. He wanted to wake her and talk, but his body thought that was a foolish idea. It firmly believed in actions over words. So he let his hand wander over her skin, tracing the slope of her breasts, the swell of her abdomen, the shape of her thighs, slowly awakening her as well as his own desire. After a minute he rolled away to retrieve another condom from her nightstand, donning it before returning to his caresses. He sensed her transition from sleep to alertness, though she didn’t move at first. He covered her left breast with his hand and held her that way for a few minutes. But when she opened her mouth and started to speak, he quickly covered her lips. She kissed his fingers in understanding, then rolled to her back, her eyes full of what she’d been, possibly, about to say. Passion swept through him, from the pit of his stomach up through his chest, into his throat. He laced the fingers of both hands through hers and moved over her, balancing on his elbows and knees. This was different. It didn’t require words to prove it, and it also didn’t require preparation or hard work. For perhaps the only time in their entire relationship, past or future, all it required was consent. Cassie didn’t nod or speak. One tear trailed down her cheek. Seth kissed it away, sliding into her at the same moment, penetrating deep with one long, slow thrust. They didn’t move, just looked at each other, until Cassie tilted her chin and Seth lowered his head and their mouths met and clung, a connection more than a kiss. She lifted her hips and he pulled all the way out, then pushed back in, keeping the slow rhythm. Suddenly Cassie gasped. Her head tilted back, her mouth open in a 51

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silent cry. Seth shifted higher, so his cock rubbed her more directly, but kept the pace. She wrapped her legs around his hips and rose to meet him, forcing him to pick up the pace and pressing harder upward until he used more force and speed. He could see on her face that she was close, and he wanted her to go over, but wanted to be with her when she did. “Cassie.” Her eyes met his again. Her cunt tightened around his cock, drawing tighter and tighter and pulling a moan from him. Two hard thrusts, and her body burst. He could feel the explosion when her internal grip on him loosened, then milked him as she convulsed. His own orgasm crested just as she released, and they throbbed together, connected in a way he’d never experienced and was afraid he never would again. He lowered his forehead to her chest, his breath short. Cassie tangled her hands in his hair and urged him to relax. He let the bulk of his weight rest on the bed between her legs, laid his cheek on her breast, and wrapped his arms around her waist. Her fingers combing through his hair and over his shoulders lulled him back to sleep. *

*

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When he woke the second time she was gone, but he could feel her presence in the house and knew she hadn’t abandoned him. The clock now said ten. Seth stretched and yawned. Huh. No cotton mouth. No aching joints or stiff muscles. He could clearly see the cracks in her ceiling, and hear the radio downstairs, and smell coffee. Hell, yeah. Coffee. He showered quickly and then stood in the bedroom, bare-arsed and scratching his head, wondering what he should wear. His clothes from last night reeked, and Jules would ride him through three cities if he caught him coming into the hotel like that, anyway. “Bottom drawer, right.” 52

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He turned. Cassie leaned against the doorjamb, wearing a bright blue silk robe and holding two mugs. Her hair was slightly damp and very tousled, which matched her swollen lips and bright eyes. “I love you.” He stepped closer and took the mug with cream and sugar, eyeing her evil black coffee with suspicion before bending to kiss her softly in gratitude. “You even remember how I take it. You’re amazing.” “Not as amazing as Faith, apparently.” “Say what?” He sipped. Perfect. Then realized what she’d said. “Faith? What are you talking about?” She pulled a newspaper from under her arm and crossed to the bed, pointing to the dresser. “Bottom drawer, right.” Seth set his mug on the dresser top and bent to pull open the drawer. It was half-full of men’s clothing. He grimaced. He didn’t want to wear her lovers’ leftovers. But when he pulled out a pair of jeans, a very worn out, three-quarter sleeve, baseball-style Blue Silver t-shirt, and even a pair of boxers, he realized they were his old leftovers. He looked over his shoulder, and his heart contracted at the look of sadness on Cassie’s face. “You kept these?” She shrugged. “Nostalgia. Anyway”—she held up the paper—“we weren’t the only ones making connections last night.” He tossed the clothes onto the bed, shoved the drawer closed with his foot, and took the paper from her. “Bugger.” A large, not-fuzzyenough photo of Troy and Faith showed them more than a little friendly in the glass elevator of the suite tower of their hotel. “Yeah, I don’t think she’ll be too happy, since she’s a halfway house counselor. I suspect Jules won’t be happy either, only getting the local paper. Page C7.” “Alone?” “Nope.” She swallowed a mouthful of coffee and looked pissed. 53

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“Georgie was with him. He’s as good as ever because they didn’t get her face, but it’s definitely her.” Seth traded the paper for his coffee and sat next to her on the bed. “What’s wrong with that?” “He doesn’t deserve her.” “No argument there, love, but Georgie’s a big girl. And last night, she looked like she knew what she wanted and was going full-bore to get it.” “I know.” She sighed, drained her mug, and set it on the floor. “She’d been planning it for weeks. Maybe since she first got the idea to get you guys here. But…” She shook her head, then tilted it into Seth’s hand when he smoothed her hair back off her face. He allowed a small bit of satisfaction at the move, which she obviously wasn’t aware of making. “She’s vulnerable. She had this ass-crack boyfriend. Comatose Joe. She stayed by him after an accident, then got dumped when he took off with his physical therapist. Fucker.” Her scowl deepened. “Julian made her feel great about herself, I’m sure, but he’s heading to Columbus today. So where does that leave her?” Seth rubbed the back of her neck. “Maybe ready to move on from the ass-crack boyfriend. Jules is good at snapping people away from their pasts.” When Cassie looked at him, he knew she understood. Phone contact with Cassie had helped him get focused, remember what was important, but Jules was the one who had dragged him out of bars and pools of sick in random bathrooms. “She’ll be okay.” “Yeah, I guess.” She glanced at the clock. “I’m meeting her and the others for brunch before they hit the airport. What time are you leaving? I can’t remember.” “Too soon.” He pulled her toward him with the hand on her neck and kissed her. “But time enough. We can talk. Or…” He lifted her face and kissed her again, drinking in what could easily become his new drug. He didn’t give her time to vote, kissing her over and over, 54

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tasting her, trying to imprint himself on her. He tugged her across him so she straddled his lap. Her robe parted, draping around them, anchoring them. Cassie broke the kiss, leaning back, but smiling at him. “So I guess we’ll skip the talking, huh?” “Hell, yeah.” This time she kissed him, framing his jaw with her hands. Her new position gave her more freedom to explore his body, and explore it she did. She ran her hands over and over his skin, as if she was hungry to memorize him. They roamed up and down his back and sides and chest and neck and—oh, yeah—down his abdomen, stopping short of their target. “Cassie,” he whispered against her mouth, a plea. “Where will you leave me, Seth?” He froze. “I don’t want to leave you at all.” He held his breath while he waited for her to think, expecting her to climb off him, but hoping against hope she continued, as if that would prove they had a future. Please, God, let us have a future. *

*

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Cassie didn’t move, her mind racing. He really meant it. He wasn’t going to leave the band, the tour they’d just kicked off, and she knew that. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to after seeing his joy and passion on stage last night. But their lovemaking early this morning, combined with the right words now, convinced her it was worth trying. She surged forward, bringing her torso flush against Seth’s, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and head and kissing him with everything she had. The flush of desire gave way to desperate need, and pants and moans echoed around them. He rapidly grew hard beneath her. He shifted his hips, not having much maneuverability, but just enough to stroke her clit with his cock, and the feel of skin on skin 55

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overwhelmed her. “Jesus, Seth. I need you now.” “Yes. But—” He stretched a hand toward the nightstand, much too far away, his mouth clamped on her neck and his other hand on her breast, his thumb rolling her nipple. Pleasure arrowed through her from there to her center, and she couldn’t help grinding against him. “Cassie, you’re so hot. So wet.” He shifted his hands to her hips, lifting her away from him, but arching so they still touched. “We need…” He couldn’t seem to articulate, and Cassie gave a breathless laugh. “I have one.” She fought with her robe until she found the slash pocket in the side seam, retrieving the condom she’d put there after her shower. “No one changes completely, babe. I know you.” He grinned and she melted. “You do know me, love, and you’re about to know me a bit better.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her to her feet, and stood. “Mind if we deviate a bit?” “Not at all.” He spun her and caught her against his chest, his hand on her abdomen. She heard him rip open the condom with his teeth, then apply it with one hand before wrapping her up again. He stroked her breasts and belly and dipped between her legs with long, sweeping caresses. She let her head drop back, and he nipped at her ear. “I love you, Cassie.” The sound was faint, a breath more than a whisper, and she knew he wasn’t expecting her to respond. She couldn’t. It was still all too new, and too old at the same time. She would work her way back to it. They would. But not all in one night. Seth slipped his cock between her thighs and his right hand to her mound, cupping her and pressing with the pads of his fingers, while the other hand teased her breast and his mouth nibbled anything it could reach. Then his fingers pressed deeper, between her folds, and she adjusted her legs to give him room. After last night, she didn’t expect to 56

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continue to be so responsive to him. Her body needed some recovery time. But she started to burn under his strokes and moisture surged. “I’m ready,” she murmured, pressing his hand lower so he could feel. “And we are on a schedule.” “Okay.” He let go of her, then shoved her forward so she fell handsfirst onto the bed. With one move he hitched her onto her knees and, with the next, slid into her from behind. “Ohhhh, yes.” He was so deep this way, and while most of her brain was disengaged, the small part of it that remained rational sifted through the memories, trying to remember if they’d ever done this. She didn’t think so and thought there might have only been one time for her ever. It couldn’t have been very good or she’d have done it again. Seth pulled out, then thrust into her again, and sensation shot to her fingertips. “Oh, God, yes. Do it again.” He did, and then again, and she pushed her hips back, encouraging him to do it harder. “Faster, Seth.” He obliged, gripping her hips to hold her in place while he pounded her. She could feel the orgasm, deeper and more powerful than ever, but more elusive, too. Seth’s breathing changed, his fingers tensed, and she knew he was getting close. Not wanting to be left behind, she locked her left elbow and reached with her right hand, rubbing her clit, squeezing it between his cock and her hand. Almost instantly she came, flooding her body with light, and Seth shouted, hammering against her, stopping, and then thrusting his hips in smaller, but faster strokes as he came. “Jesus Christ, Cassie,” he panted, falling forward and letting her support them both for a minute. “I came like a freight train.” She laughed. The vibration made him slide out of her. She collapsed onto the bed and rolled to her side. “I’ll be right back.” He went into the hall and she heard the water run briefly in the bathroom. When he returned, he laid down next to her, sliding one arm under her neck and cuddling her to his chest. 57

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“We don’t have—” “Time for this, I know. Just for a second.” He pressed his lips to her hair. “Come to New York.” “You’ve got Columbus next.” “I know. I don’t imagine you can get away with such short notice, but New York should be enough. I can’t go longer than that without you.” She sighed heavily, but knew it was an act. She was going to New York. “I’ll try.” His arms tightened. “I’ll try harder.” It didn’t make sense, but she still knew what he meant. *

*

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Cassie scanned the four women seated at the rectangular table at brunch and shook her head. “I can’t believe every one of us got laid last night.” Amazingly, no one protested. Marci looked smug. Georgie smiled delightedly and licked her fingers. Arliss allowed herself a tiny smile, and Faith stared distractedly out the window. Cassie sighed and sat down, wondering who would wind up with the most shattered heart. “A dream come true,” Georgie crowed. “Just like we wanted.” Arliss snorted. “I didn’t come here to get laid.” “I did,” Marci said. She flashed Faith a secretive look. “Got more than I bargained for, though.” Cassie shrugged and flipped open her menu. “I hope it was worth it, ladies.” Banter flew around the table, hinting at things she didn’t want to know about. Georgie sighed. “God, wasn’t the concert awesome?” She giggled at her own girlish tone. “Seriously, though. Wasn’t it? They totally rocked.” “You could tell they loved it,” Cassie agreed. “Most of them, 58

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anyway. Buttermilk pancakes and a side of crisp bacon, please,” she said to the waitress, who had started hovering. “Do you have onions in your hash browns?” “We can.” “I’ll have some of those, too.” She handed her the menu. “What? I’m hungry.” The others stopped staring at her and ordered their own large breakfasts with sheepishness. They spent the meal talking about the concert and sharing a little—very little, in most cases—of their evenings after the concert. Halfway through the meal, Faith took a phone call, looked shocked and uncertain, then announced she was driving to Columbus with Troy. Cassie fought a pang of envy, knowing Seth was on his way to Ohio, too, and she wouldn’t see him for over a week. “So?” Georgie leaned close to Cassie. “You back with him?” Cassie shook her head and crunched bacon. “I’ll tell you mine after you tell me yours.” Georgie straightened. “Well, then, I guess we’ll both be keeping some secrets.” “I guess.” *

*

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Waiting for New York was torture, especially after Troy got himself beaned and held things up for a few days, which screwed with Cassie’s schedule so she had to delay it even more, changing it to meeting him in Albany a month after he’d left. And Julian called Cassie six times in a week, begging for Georgie’s number. “C’mon, love, you know I’m not going to hurt her.” “I’m thinking you already have.” Cassie nodded at her assistant, who left the office and closed the door. Cassie tucked the phone into her shoulder so she could sort files while she listened to Jules rant. She only planned to be gone for a few days, but there were a couple of 59

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projects that would need continuous attention. “No way. I was good to her. She’s breaking my heart.” “What did the note say?” she asked for the sixth time. “She didn’t leave me a bloody note, as I’ve told you six damned times.” “Well, then, as I’ve told you six damned times, she had her reasons and I’m not giving you her unlisted number.” “What reasons? I just want to talk to her.” He blew out a sigh, and she could picture him playing with the purple tips of his hair. Scowling at them. Maybe adjusting the studied dishevelment of his shirt. “Sorry, Jules.” “You actually sound like you mean it.” He, on the other hand, sounded completely despondent. “I do. I don’t know why she won’t talk to you.” “You haven’t asked her? Honestly, Cass, it would make things so much easier if you’d ask her. Then you can tell me what she says.” “I haven’t talked to her, Julian. Not since the day after the concert. I know she was smugly satisfied, and that she told me before you guys got here that she wanted a one-night stand—” “What?” “Puh-leez. That’s all you ever want. What’s wrong with her wanting it?” “She planned it?” Uh-oh. “No, of course not. Anyway, she doesn’t want to talk to you, so move on. You know quite well how to do that. I’ll see you in New York.” She hung up, hoping Georgie wasn’t going to murder her when— if—she found out she’d spilled the beans. And then she regretted hanging up because she could have asked Julian about Seth, who’d called her only half as much as his best friend had. “Beth, I’m leaving,” she called to her assistant, dropping files on 60

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her desk and trying hard not to walk with a spring in her step. “Have a great time!” Cassie waved back over her shoulder, glad Beth couldn’t see her grin. *

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Cassie was coming. Seth had a hard time getting through sound check the night of their concert in Albany. Jules blamed the acoustics in the club where they were performing, and Brad blamed the dodgy equipment, but those were just small irritants. His real distraction was the knowledge Cassie was going to be there that night, watching him perform and then later, performing with him. The analogy made him snigger, but the memories made him hard, and strutting his stuff didn’t work so well with a hardon. Finally, they trouped off stage, arguing about the sound problems, but without heat. They were getting along amazingly well on this tour considering how long it had been since they’d done it and were still, for the most part, enjoying themselves enough not to get angry at each other. “I’m tellin’ ya, mate, the amp’s fried,” Robert complained to Pete. “I’m getting nothin’ out of it.” “It’s brand new, Fox. You’ve used it for three shows. There’s no way it’s fried.” “I don’t care. Have it checked. If I have to play this crap, at the least I want it to sound the best it can.” Seth followed Julian and Brad off the stage. Troy pushed past Pete to catch up with him at the doorway to their room. “Seth, mate, I’ve got to talk to you. About the tour.” “Aw, man, do you have to?” He’d been afraid of this since Brad had talked Troy into leaving the boonies and joining them. “I’m not going to listen.” 61

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“But—” “Nope. I’m…” He trailed off. The room was filled, as usual, with crew, bodyguards, and hangers-on, and there was usually a cloud of smoke and lots of booze. But tonight, there was more. Julian and Robert were in the corner, their backs making a wall, and were clearly arguing with someone in low voices. But they didn’t have to hide it. Seth could smell it. And where there was pot… “What the fuck?” He stormed across the room, taking note of Troy’s grim look and Robert’s fury. At least they had nothing to do with it. He shoved between them and confronted the scrawny, hoodedsweatshirt-wearing junkie huddling defiantly, his hand cupping a joint and his body bowed over… “Jesus fucking Christ. That’s cocaine.” All his fears blew into panic and he snatched the mirror from the kid. “Who the hell are you?” He raised his head. “Who the fuck let him in here?” “Seth, we were trying to get him out of here before you—” “Mate, calm down.” Julian reached for the piece of glass, but Seth held it out of his reach. “I’m calm,” he lied, but lowered his voice. “I’m going to rip his head off.” “And I’ll piss down his neck. But first we’ve got to get control. Let me have it.” “No.” He needed to do it himself and doubted anyone would understand. He shoved Scrawn-Boy against the wall. “Give it to me. All of it.” “Get your own!” He shoved back, which was a big mistake. Seth swung, shifting at the last minute to hit the junkie’s shoulder instead of his jaw, which looked like it would shatter with a tap. The kid—he was getting old, to think of this twenty-odd wanker as a kid—lost his defiance immediately. Seth snatched the lit joint, ground it out on the 62

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cinderblock wall, and dropped it on the glass. Then he reached into pockets, grabbed bags off the small table next to him, and retrieved a paper sack off a chair. Breathing heavily, he swung around, intending to flush it all in the nearest toilet, when the worst possible sequence of events occurred. “I’m taking it all,” he said, loud enough to echo. The crowd behind them parted and Seth stopped short, his hands full of drugs and pipes. Cassie stood in front of him, her face blank, her eyes dead. Or maybe that was him. “Cass.” The room had gone utterly silent. Someone, probably Julian, muttered, “Crap.” Pete yanked open the steel door and stormed in, yelling something about the time and costumes, before he stopped, looked around, and said, “Fuck me.” Seth just stood there, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. I can explain echoed through his head, but it sounded in the voices of so many stupid sitcoms, and wasn’t at all what he wanted to say. After a minute of nobody moving, Pete took charge. “All right, show’s over. If there even was a show. I don’t know. I was late, apparently. You.” He pointed at the wanker behind Seth. “Get out of here. You.” He gestured to the bodyguard nearest them. “Get him out. Then you’re fired. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The rest of you—” He glared at each member of the band “—go get ready. Sound check took twice as long as it should have and you’re not starting this concert late. We have to drive to Buffalo tonight.” Pete started ushering everyone out of the room. Seth stood, staring at Cassie, wondering if he’d just ruined everything. The temptations in his arms were nothing compared to her, but he didn’t know how he’d be able to convince her of that. She’d “caught” him and she’d always been a pragmatic, look-with-your eyes kind of woman. 63

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Pete came up to him with a plastic bag and dumped everything he was holding—the paraphernalia, the baggies of powder, the paper bag of hash, even the wedge of glass—into it. “I’ll get rid of these, mate,” he murmured to Seth, not making eye contact. “Flush them,” he said. He kept his own eyes on Cassie, who hadn’t looked away since she came in. “All of it, Pete. I mean it.” “I know, Seth. Don’t worry.” He glanced at Cassie. “Make it quick.” He left and the door clanked shut, leaving them alone. “It’s okay,” she said. “Go get ready for the concert.” He couldn’t decipher anything from her tone. “No. We can talk first. I don’t want to come off the stage and find you gone.” One side of her mouth quirked. “It took me nearly six hours to get here. I’m not leaving.” Now humor tinged her gaze, and the break in her mask allowed him to see the familiar sadness, but also something else. Something he couldn’t read, and damn it, he was going to totally blow this show. “Cassie.” “Seth. Go. Play that song for me again.” She laughed. “You know, I totally forgot to ask you about it that night.” “I wrote—” “Go!” She shoved him toward the door, laughing again, and he relaxed and focused ahead on his performance, instead of on his fear. He trusted her. *

*

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“Hey.” Cassie turned away from watching the crew dismantling the backdrop and saw Julian walking toward her. A quick burst of fear flared out as soon as it sparked, but she still asked, “Did he send you?” “Nah. He’s showering. I got done first. On purpose,” he admitted, sitting on a hard plastic chair and tilting it onto its hind legs. “Can you pleeease give me Georgie’s number?” 64

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“No.” “Yeah. Figured.” He thumped the chair down. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t need you anymore. Seth gave me the solution this afternoon.” He grinned and Cassie could see, then, what hadn’t been apparent over the phone. Well, she’d be damned. “Anyway, I didn’t come out here to talk about Georgie.” His happiness faded and he looked more serious than she thought she’d ever seen him. “He isn’t using, Cassie.” “I know.” “He wouldn’t do the tour at all, unless every fucking person associated with it signed an agreement not to let drugs anywhere near us.” That surprised her, but then she realized it didn’t. Seth had worked hard to make this comeback work, and harder, over the years, to get healthy. He wouldn’t jeopardize that and his edict made sense. “Thanks for telling me.” “He was going to flush it.” “I know.” But she could see that Jules didn’t. That he was afraid for his friend, the same way she had been, the same way Seth probably was. But she wasn’t anymore. He had passed the test, proving to her that it hadn’t really been necessary. “What the fuck are you doing with my woman?” Seth had entered the club, looking fresh and delicious in snug jeans, cowboy boots, a white western-style shirt with pearl snaps, and a black cowboy hat. He punched Jules on the shoulder. He winced, let his chair drop again, and stood. “What the fuck? You look ridiculous, mate.” He flicked the hat. “What the hell’s that for? Texas isn’t for months.” “I thought we were going to Buffalo.” He winked at Cassie, who smiled. “Idiot,” Julian said fondly. “Buffalo, New York. And Pete’s an 65

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idiot, too, because we’re not leaving for Buffalo tonight.” He twisted his wrist to look at his watch. “We’re in Jersey in two days. So me, I’m going to Harrisburg.” He frowned at Cassie. “You need a ride to the airport?” “No, Jules. I’m fine. But thanks.” “All right. But you know you can call me any time you need me.” He tossed a significant look at Seth. “We’re fine, Jules. Go. And thanks.” “You know it.” He clapped Seth on the back and sauntered out. Seth waited until he was gone and the door was closed before turning back to Cassie. The crew was still working, but making so much noise now that they had complete privacy. “How much penance do I have to pay?” he asked, shoving his hands into his back pockets. “Were you going to take those drugs?” “No.” “Then you pay none.” He frowned. “It can’t be this easy.” Cassie snorted. “I think we’ve made it difficult enough over the years, don’t you?” “But you’re just going to take my word for it?” “No.” He was too hot in that outfit. She looked around, but there was nowhere to go. The club was a big, open plan format without even a hallway for the restrooms, which fronted right on the dance floor. “I saw with my own eyes, Seth. And if that wasn’t enough, Jules came to bat for you.” This place wasn’t going to do at all. She wondered what other rooms were in the back, but decided she’d had enough of shagging backstage. She turned and wove her way through the tables to the side exit, where the limo had been waiting. If she was lucky, the guys were all preoccupied somewhere, and… Ah, yes. 66

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“Cassie? What’s going on?” Seth had followed her, but hung back as she peeked out the door. The limo sat idling, its dark tinted rear windows exactly what she was hoping for. She motioned for him to follow her, glanced once more around for paparazzi, and darted to the car. She opened the door and slid across the seat before the driver could react. Seth followed, slamming and locking the door behind them. “Everything all right, sir?” The partition was down and the driver was looking at them in the rearview mirror. “I wasn’t expecting anyone for another half hour.” “It’s fine,” Seth assured him. Cassie hit the button to put up the privacy screen, then turned back to her ex-husband. “As I was saying, it was actually the best thing that could’ve happened, Seth.” “How the hell do you figure that?” “You faced temptation and defeated it. And when I saw you standing there, holding all that crap, I should’ve gotten angry. Hurt, betrayed, sad. But all I felt was honesty. Trust. I knew you had no intention of using any of that stuff.” She laced her fingers through his. “You’ve grown up, and now we know what you face on this tour. And how you’ll handle it.” “Cassie.” He used his free hand to finger-comb her hair back off her face. “How’d you get to be so smart? You have more faith than I do, though. When I saw that stuff, all the rage and fear came rushing back. It’s not gone. It will never go away. And what will happen if temptation returns on a day I’m weak?” She wrapped her hand around his wrist and pressed her forehead to his. “Then I’ll be there to strengthen you.” His breath whooshed out. “God, Cassie, I don’t deserve you.” He pulled her head to his chest and held her, arms tight, pressing her head 67

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against him. “I love you.” “Tell me about the song. You wrote it, didn’t you?” He released her and she rose onto one knee, throwing the other leg across his lap. Her black, two-layered skirt was fitted and rode up her thighs. Seth’s hands landed on them and started stroking, pushing the skirt still higher, but he wasn’t paying any attention to what his hands were doing. “Yeah. The only song I ever wrote. It kind of poured out the day the divorce went final. I always wondered what you thought of it.” His hands now rubbed in circles, his thumbs smoothing the crease of her thighs. She grinned at him, the clueless man. He hadn’t even noticed she was going commando. “I never heard it, actually, until that night. It was powerful.” She kissed him, very briefly, not closing her eyes. “I fell in love with you again when you sang it to me.” “I never stopped loving you, Cass. I never will.” She believed him. “Show me.” That was when he noticed the bare flesh he was stroking. His eyes narrowed and started to burn. His thumbs pressed inward, sliding into her folds, so one delved into her, the other pressed on her clit. She gasped, surprised at how quickly he got her to respond. With no foreplay. Well, maybe there’d been a little bit of foreplay. Seth removed his hands, wrapped his arms around her back, and kissed her deeply, slowly, thoroughly as he lowered her to the seat. His body was hot on top of hers, but gone almost immediately. He paid brief attention to her breasts, then murmured, “I’ve got to taste you,” before shoving up her skirt and putting his mouth on her. His tongue dipped inside, then swept up and across her clit before he sucked hard, making her cry out and her clit swell so when he used the tip of his tongue on it, she reacted immediately. Her body didn’t want to hold still. She flung one leg over Seth’s shoulder and he slid his hands under 68

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her ass so he could get better access to her. He licked and sucked and swirled his tongue, but didn’t let her get any closer. “Seth. Stop teasing.” He looked up at her. “Stop ordering me around.” Still watching her, he slid a finger deep into her, then another. He pressed them upward, then bent his head again to lick her over-stimulated clit. She almost came, clenching her internal muscles as tightly as she could to hold it off. Seth groaned and slid his fingers out, then in again, pressing upward to pinch her clit between his fingers on the inside and his tongue. She writhed, so he clamped his arm around the leg on his shoulder, forcing her to be still, even when she tried to pull away. “Seth, I’m coming. Oh, God.” She arched and he stopped. Everything. All at once. She looked at him, stroked his face with one hand. “Inside me, then.” “Yes.” He kissed her palm, but didn’t move. “I want to make babies with you, Cassie.” Her hand froze, then dropped away. “Now?” He pressed his rough cheek to her inner thigh. His breath whispered across her wide-open cunt, making her spasm. Part of her wanted her to shut up, to just take him in—God, yes, bare-skinned, and they’d deal with the consequences later. But she just couldn’t do it. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said. Waiting. “I don’t know if I want kids, Seth.” “Okay.” Now he rose to his knees, slipping a foil packet from his pocket and unzipping his pants. “Glad we got that settled quickly. I’m dying to get inside you.” “Seth.” She shifted so his hips were between her widespread legs, but held his face between her hands. “We’re whole like this. We don’t need anything else.” “I know.” He pressed forward, sliding slowly into her, pausing each time she squeezed him. Halfway in, his eyes closed, his face contorted. 69

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“God, that’s good.” He looked at her again, gathering her to him and beginning to thrust. “It doesn’t matter, Cass. I lo…love…fuck.” She heard it then, too. Voices outside. Seth started to pull out, but she yanked his hips back against her. He stared at her. “Hurry,” she said, and the idea of getting caught was such a fucking turn-on, she started to come as soon as he started to pump her. “Oh, God, Seth. Yes. Harder. Harder!” She dug her nails into his ass and egged him on, and soon he was pounding her hard enough to make the car move. That made her laugh, which made her clench him, which sent him over the edge before her orgasm really got off the ground. But he knew it, and before he’d finished, he pressed his thumb to her clit, grinding upward, and she flew apart, golden light showering over her as she endeavored to hold her scream inside. By the time the door opened, they were snuggled in the corner of the seat, Seth’s head tilted back, his Stetson over his eyes and legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed. Cassie had curled her legs under her and leaned on Seth’s chest. She doubted they looked like anything but what they’d been doing, but she didn’t care. “Hey, Cassie.” Robert climbed in and sat in the opposite corner, his cell phone to his ear. “But Liss, we won’t be within three hundred miles of you.” Cassie raised her eyebrows. He was talking to Arliss? He saw her looking at him and gave her the thumbs up as Brad and Troy followed him in. Troy settled next to Cassie and gave her an inscrutable look. “Yoko. You coming to Buffalo?” “We’re not going to Buffalo,” Seth said from under his hat. “And it’s not in Texas neither.” Everyone laughed. Troy and Brad started talking about some TV show they’d watched the night before. Robert ignored them all, talking to Arliss about…accounting? Cassie shook her head and looked at Seth, feeling more feminine and soft than she’d felt in about twenty years. 70

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Seth, apparently feeling her watching him, opened his eyes a slit. “I think I have to write another song,” he murmured. His arm tightened around her shoulders. Cassie laid her head on his shoulder and agreed. “Found Our Forever,” she said, knowing it sounded corny but not caring. That’s what they had done.

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NATALIE J. DAMSCHRODER Natalie J. Damschroder became a writer the hard way—by avoiding it. Though she wrote her first book at age five (appropriately titled, My Very First Book) and received accolades for her academic writing (Ruth Davies Award for Excellence in Writing for a paper on deforestation her senior year in college), she hated doing it. Colonial food and the habits of the European Starling just weren’t her thing. Shortly after graduating from college, however, she found her niche— romantic fiction. After an internship with the National Geographic Society, customer service for a phone company just wasn’t that exciting. So she began learning how to write the books she’d loved to read all her life. Four books and six years later, she finally sold. Now she struggles to balance her frenetic writing life (how else can she get all the stories in her head on paper?) with her family, the most supportive husband in the world and two beautiful, intelligent, stubborn, independent daughters (one of whom has already declared her desire to be a writer, too). She somehow also fits in a day job and various volunteer positions in and out of the writing industry. More can be found at: http://www.nataliedamschroder.com *

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