After the concert, Kellen removed the wide silver watch from his wrist and set it on Jacob’s bunk. Before Dawn had arrived to inform him it wasn’t his place to tell her he wasn’t good for her, he’d needed something to replace the cuff he usually wore—the one Owen had confiscated and buried somewhere—but now that she was here and Lindsey was on her way to Austin, he felt he could take the steps he needed to finally move on. And the first step was ridding himself of the ridiculous need to cover his wrist. Maybe with it gone, he could stop fixating on an object that served to remind him of his commitment to Sara. Correction, his broken commitment. He picked up the watch again—examining it, considering it—and then shoved it under Jacob’s pillow so that it was completely out of sight. He didn’t want it fucking with his head for another second.

Dawn’s hand pressed against the base of Kellen’s spine, and she leaned against his bare back. He’d known her two days, yet he already knew her touch and even her presence without having to look at her.

“Are you sure you want to spend the weekend in Galveston?” she asked. “We could stay here in New Orleans or go someplace else. Someplace where you don’t have memories of Sara to haunt you.”

He turned and folded her in his arms. “I’m sure you hate feeling like you’re in her shadow.” Especially since he’d been acting like an ass every time Lindsey made an appearance that day. But he didn’t have to see Sara’s ghost anymore. Owen had taken her back to Austin, so along with the watch that had served as a reminder, the bigger reminder was now gone. He could breathe freely again.

“I don’t mind,” Dawn said.

“Liar.”

She laughed. “She’s part of you. I know she comes as part of the package.”

But that wasn’t fair to Dawn.

“I need to release myself from her hold once and for all, do what I’d planned to do the night we met. But I can put that off if you don’t want to be there for me.”

He cringed; his words hadn’t come out right. He’d meant that it was something he could do alone, not that he thought she couldn’t support him.

Dawn shifted away and gazed up at him with those green-flecked hazel eyes that he loved staring into. Long strands of her hair tickled his arm when the glorious red waves brushed against his skin. She was gorgeous.

“Of course I want to be there for you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, but of course she thought that with the stupid way he’d worded his statement. He didn’t usually have a problem expressing himself, but this woman had him uncharacteristically out of his head. The last woman who’d made him all topsy-turvy was Sara, and though he was ready to leave her in the past, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to give himself over to the same set of emotions again. Was it wise to free himself only to tie himself to another?

He rephrased his attempt to let Dawn off the hook. “I wouldn’t mind your support, but I can do this on my own if you have better things to do.” Definitely better.

She lifted her eyebrows at him. Okay, so not better.

“What I’m trying to say—”

She silenced him by covering his mouth with her fingertips. “I get it. You’d like my support, but don’t want to actually ask for it.”

That was closer to what he’d been trying to say, but still not exactly right. He didn’t want his time with Dawn to be intruded upon by memories of Sara, but until he truly laid his departed fiancée to rest, she’d always be there just beneath the surface, waiting to twist him into knots.

He took Dawn’s hand from his mouth and pressed it against his chest over his heart. “I can put Sara’s memories in the mental box I normally keep them in and try to ignore them like usual. If I do that, I swear we can have an enjoyable weekend together. Or I can include you in the mess of trying to sort us out—me and Sara. I’ve tried so many times to do this in the past—alone—and thus far I’ve always failed, but you’ve given me a great reason to move forward. Maybe this time will be different. Either way—”

“We’re going to Galveston,” Dawn said.

“And stay at Sara’s house?” Kellen asked, thinking he might actually be able to stand being in that sunny, yellow beach house with Dawn beside him.

Dawn shook her head. “It’s not Sara’s house, it’s your house.”

“But I bought it for her.”

“And maybe you should sell it for you.”

She was probably right, but he couldn’t do that. Not when a big part of him still wanted to hold on to Sara. That house and its contents were all he had left of her, of them. And he didn’t want to forget her or the time they’d spent together. But maybe if he dealt with his sorrow and the guilt that ate him alive, he could figure out how to move on. Something had to change; he was miserable. He’d been miserable for a long time. He just hadn’t realized it until Dawn played her way under his skin and into his heart.

“Do you want to stay here in New Orleans tonight or leave for Galveston right away?” he asked.

With the exception of Adam, the rest of the band had cleared out of New Orleans so they could catch a plane back to Austin for their weekend off. Kellen was admittedly tired after the performance, and it was at least a six-hour drive to the island, but they could get a head start if they left right away.

“Don’t you still have that lovely suite in the hotel that’s going to waste?” she asked.

“Yeah. The band rented that whole block of rooms for the weekend, and Adam is the only one putting his to good use.” And Kellen was sure that with Madison there for the weekend, Adam was putting that room to very good use.

“So let’s stay here tonight and leave in the morning. We can grab a late dinner and have some fun on Bourbon Street. I never managed to reach my friends, but we can venture out on our own.”

That sounded like a frivolous start to what was sure to be an emotionally trying weekend. Maybe they’d decide to play in New Orleans the entire time. That option would keep things light and entertaining, the way a budding relationship should be.

“Great plan,” Kellen said.

He called for a cab since neither of them wanted the attention that came with taking the limo. He wasn’t sure it had returned from dropping the guys—and Lindsey—at the airstrip anyway.

“Any idea where you want to go?” Kellen asked, checking an app on his phone for suggestions as they waited for their ride. “There’s never a lack of activities in New Orleans. And you did promise to play me that jazz song.” Though he couldn’t for the life of him remember the title of it. Something about a train.

“I’m surprised you remembered, but yeah, I’ll play you a tune. Have you ever been to the Carousel Bar?”

“Never heard of it,” he admitted. Owen usually picked the spots to visit when they were on tour, and he always chose sex clubs, so those were the only places Kellen knew about in the cities he’d visited. Kellen didn’t even want to suggest something like an evening at a sex club to a sophisticated woman like Dawn.

“It’s in the Monteleone Hotel on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter. You’ll love it.”

He had heard of Bourbon Street and the French Quarter—they’d been in that general area earlier that day—but he wasn’t familiar with the Mont-whatever Hotel. “I’m game,” he said. “Do I have to wear a shirt?”

She laughed and placed a kiss on his chest, her fingers tracing the outlines of the many tattoos that decorated his skin. “I prefer you like this, but if we want service, you’ll have to hide this man candy from view.”

“Man candy?” Kellen was used to Owen being the man candy when he went out. Kellen served as his wing man, and he wasn’t sure he wanted Owen’s role. He’d much rather be admired for his ideals, interests, and talents than for his body. But maybe Dawn could appreciate him for all those qualities and his body too.

“Candy delicious enough to lick,” Dawn said, her tongue sliding over one pec, which flexed involuntarily beneath her exploration.

He enjoyed her touching him—he couldn’t deny that—but he still didn’t feel comfortable under her attention. Especially when he didn’t have ropes binding her gorgeous body. He had no problem doting on her; admittedly, he’d been doing that all day. But when they were alone together and their making out progressed to making love, he had to tie her up before he could fuck her properly. He needed time to reflect on that need, and he sure couldn’t do that with her beguiling mouth on his flesh.

He took her by the shoulders, not to push her away or to draw her closer, but to encourage her to stay right where she was—neither too far, nor too close. He wondered if she really understood what she’d gotten herself into when she’d sought him out and pledged to give their relationship a try. He already knew opening his heart to a new woman would not be easy for him, and by extension, it would be challenging for Dawn as well.

“We’ll have to stop by the hotel before we go out,” he said. “All of my clothes are there.”

“Perhaps,” she said, her lips sucking kisses along his chest, “we should just stay in.”

“Or we could savor each other’s company outside the bedroom.” Where ropes weren’t required.

Her head tilted, her pretty eyes searching his face. “If you were any other man, I’d take that as a stinging rejection.”

He’d done the same to her the night before. He hoped he didn’t make her feel unwanted. She was definitely wanted. He was the problem, not her.

“I’m not rejecting you. I’d very much like to tie you into little knots both inside and out and then deep, deep inside.”

She shivered beneath his fingertips, and he felt the pull of her body on his in the primal place he’d kept locked tight until she’d smashed it open the night they’d met.

“But . . .” She encouraged him to continue.

“But if we start with outside knots and move to those deep inside knots, which is what will happen if we’re alone together in my hotel room, we’ll be skipping that first step.”

“And how does that first step work?”

He lifted his brows at her. “Tying you in knots on the inside?”

She nodded, a smile on her lush lips.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

He held her hand in the cab to the hotel, his thumb rubbing the pulse point in her wrist.

“I enjoyed the concert,” Dawn said. “Even though I saw your show just last night, it still feels new and exciting.”

“Do you often go to the orchestra?”

She smiled and ducked her head. “I often am the orchestra. I do quite a few solo concerts.”

“So you don’t just compose, you perform? Professionally?” He realized he knew very little about her day-to-day activities. He’d met her when she’d been hiding from the world in a beach house and searching for her muse. He was glad she’d found inspiration in him, but he had no idea what her real life was like.

“I go back and forth,” she said. “Sometimes the music comes pouring out of my soul—that’s when I compose—and sometimes it pours from my heart—that’s when I perform.”

“I’d like to watch you perform sometime.”

“I was able to drool over you onstage last night and tonight, so I suppose it’s only fair that you get to do the same. I’ll check my calendar and see what I have coming up. I think I have an event next week in Prague.” She scrunched her brows together and tilted her head slightly. “Or maybe it’s Rome next week and Prague the following week. Or is it Warsaw?” She chewed on her lip, her features tense with concentration.

Kellen tried not to look too astonished, but he was most likely failing at that. “You perform overseas?”

Dawn shrugged. “Quite a bit, actually. At least when I’m not on a deadline for some composition. There’s a different appreciation for classical music in Europe. Its roots are there, if that makes sense. It’s like how Nashville is immersed in country music and New Orleans in jazz; Prague is all about classical. You’ll have to come with me sometime when you’re not on tour and experience it for yourself.”

“Now, that would be cool.” And not something he’d ever thought to do on his own. This woman could broaden his horizons far more than he could broaden hers.

“We’re here.” She leaned close to the window and peered up at the tall hotel.

Already? Kellen hadn’t even noticed the taxi had stopped. The door was opened by a helpful valet, and the tidy older gentleman offered a hand to Dawn. She thanked him graciously, and Kellen scrambled out after her. She linked her arm through Kellen’s and placed a hand on his bare belly, which instantly began to quiver beneath her light touch.

Maybe they should stay in after all. He did have more rope in his luggage—a soft and supple length in a muted sage green and a coarser coil of red that would likely leave marks on her pale, freckled skin. He’d take his time with each knot this time. He could already picture her as a bound work of art, so beautiful he’d have no choice to but to eat her sweet pussy until she came and came and he unleashed his cock and plunged—

“I don’t think Owen likes me much,” Dawn said, drawing Kellen out of his fantasy so quickly that he groaned aloud.

“What makes you say that?”

Kellen had noticed Owen trying to draw his attention from Dawn most of the day. Like Kellen would want to experience Owen’s ordinary when he had the extraordinary at his side. He could see Owen any time. Owen without Lindsey in tow. Dawn would be going back to L.A. soon, or to Rome or Prague or someplace equally less Texas. She’d said so herself.

“Just a vibe he was giving off,” she said.

“It’s Lindsey. He’ll be less weird once he rids himself of her.”

“Isn’t he kind of stuck with her for life? Or at least the next twenty years or so?”

Kellen’s stomach plummeted. “Don’t say that.” They ventured toward the elevator since he still had his keycard from earlier.

“Do you always have such a hard time accepting reality?” she asked and then bit her lip. “I’m sorry. Sometimes my tongue gets away from me. I didn’t mean to just blurt that out.”

“No, you’re right. Sara is gone and will never be replaced. Owen’s gotten a girl in trouble”—maybe—“which comes with lifelong responsibility. I’m with a beautiful, intelligent woman who will soon discover I’m not worth the headaches I cause her.”

“That last part is definitely not reality,” she said.

He grinned. “Hey, I’m trying here.”

In their suite, he found a plain white V-necked T-shirt in his luggage and pulled it on. The fabric felt stifling and restrictive against his chest and back. He immediately wanted to take the shirt off again. He’d just opened his mouth to tell Dawn that they should stay in after all when she stepped out of the bathroom in an elegant black dress. He blinked at her, trying to remember how to make his mouth function as his gaze journeyed from her simple up-do that showed off the length of her slender neck down the curve of cleavage hinted at by the low-cut bodice of her gown and along the narrowing of her trim waist, the slight flare of her hips, the long length of her shapely leg, and to the slender ankle and spike-heeled shoes that made his toes curl in appreciation. And then his lucky eyes took the reverse journey back to her face.

“You just happened to have that dress in your luggage,” Kellen said when he found his tongue.

She ran her hands over the silky fabric that clung to her devastatingly gorgeous body. “All the clothes I have with me are like this. You don’t like it? Should I change?”

“What? Hell no. You’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He frowned down at his jeans and T-shirt before meeting her gaze again. “I just feel a bit underdressed.”

She grinned. “You look overdressed to me. I’ve become accustomed to ogling your shirtless chest, belly, back, shoulders, arms.” Each word came out a bit slower than the last as she eyed each part she listed.

She licked her lips, and his gaze was drawn to the small bumps at the tips of her breasts. He had a sudden, powerful urge to draw those hardened nipples into his mouth and slide his hands up the backs of her thighs. But that would be entirely inappropriate. Unrestrained.

“Maybe we should stop at a hardware store on the way back,” he murmured. “Pick up some rope.”

“Only if I get to tie you up this time,” she said.

He grinned. He liked the sound of that.

As she stood on the elevator clutching her small purse, he couldn’t help but stare at the lovely length of bare leg showing along the slit up her thigh. She looked far too classy and sophisticated in her form-hugging black dress to be hanging out with the likes of him.

It turned out that the Carousel Bar was built on an actual carousel. It even spun slowly in a circle. Kellen had to wonder if the bartender at the center suffered from vertigo. Every chair along the rotating bar was occupied, so Kellen stretched to look over the crowd for a table on the unmoving part of the floor.

“Dawn O’Reilly?” a woman’s voice carried over the crowd. “Shut the fuck up! Why didn’t you tell me you were in town?”

Beside him, Dawn sucked in a breath. Before Kellen could even blink, Dawn was being drawn into an exuberant hug by a young woman and then being shaken back and forth to make sure the hug stuck. Or broke Dawn’s back; Kellen couldn’t tell which.

“Come sit with us,” the excited stranger said. “We have a great table by the piano.”

“Great. Is there a performance tonight?” Dawn asked.

“There’s a performance every night. You know that.” The woman finally focused her gaze on Kellen. “Is this guy with you? I thought you swore off dating.”

“I swore back on the moment I laid eyes on him.”

The still-unnamed woman laughed. Her enormous Afro of loose curls made her pretty features look uncommonly petite. “Can’t blame you there. But Jimmy will be heartbroken. You told him you were gay.”

“So he’d leave me alone.” Dawn cringed. “He’s not here, is he?”

“Nope. He wanted to be a homebody tonight. If I text him and let him know you’re here, I’m sure he’ll put on pants to come see you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I’m sure Kellen is already uncomfortable enough without Jimmy wishing him dead.”

“Forgive me,” Kellen said, “but I’m a little lost here.”

“You didn’t tell him about me and Jimmy?” Dawn’s friend asked, a dark scowl on her face.

“I don’t like to dwell on my failures.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Since Dawn has forgotten her manners, I’ll introduce myself,” she said. “I’m Chantel. We were roommates for a year. We had a little jazz band together with Jimmy Zeta for a while. We lived on macaroni and cheese and cheap wine.” She lifted a hand to her temple and sighed. “Yet she never calls anymore.”

“I called you this afternoon. Your number was disconnected.”

Chantel waved a hand. “I didn’t have phone service for a while. Too broke to pay for it. I’ve got a prepaid el cheapo phone now. Doesn’t break the bank.”

“I’m Kellen.” He introduced himself when he found a narrow opening.

Chantel looped her arm through his and began directing him toward the area near a large grand piano. “You’re a musician, aren’t you?”

“Why do you say that?” Not that he was denying it. He just wondered how she could know.

“Kindred spirit. Dawn and I are about as different as we can be,” Chantel said. She paused to twist toward Dawn, who’d fallen in step behind them. “I mean, will you look at her? She looks like a movie star.”

Oh yeah, he couldn’t help but notice all the heads turning to check Dawn out.

“You look like a dead hooker on CSI,” Dawn said with an ornery grin Kellen had never seen before.

Chantel gave her the finger before pushing him toward a table and stuffing him into a chair. “Even so, we’re kindred spirits.”

She introduced him to her motley group of friends. All musicians, coincidentally. Dawn needed no introduction; they even razzed her about her rich girl dress.

“So you have a Grammy,” Chantel said, “yet you’re still hanging out with the riffraff.”

“Kellen’s not riffraff,” Dawn said.

Compared to Dawn, he was definitely riffraff, but she never went out of her way to make him feel that way.

“I was referring to us,” Chantel said, waving a hand at her three companions.

“Is this your new band?” Dawn asked.

Chantel shook her head. “Naw, we never joined a new band after you left. Jimmy and I have expanded our horizons.”

“Does that mean you’re smoking more pot?” Dawn asked.

Kellen laughed, liking this side of Dawn he never knew existed.

“Maybe a little, but that’s not the horizon I’m referring to. I’ll text Jimmy now. He’ll want to tell you himself.”

Dawn smiled and seated herself on Kellen’s knee since there weren’t any free chairs. She ordered a martini and he a beer. The noise in the place was deafening, every person trying to talk louder than the next so they could be heard. When the din suddenly faded, Kellen glanced around for the reason.

An older black gentleman climbed up on the stage to sit at the piano. He fingered a few keys, and Chantel yelled, “Hey, Bobbie, look who’s back in town.”

The pianist glanced at their table and was immediately on his feet. “Oh my Dawn,” he said. He hobbled off the stage to pull her off Kellen’s lap and into a sturdy hug. “It’s so good to see you again. You have to play for us tonight.”

“You’re the star of this show,” Dawn said, drawing away and holding him at arm’s length. Her fondness for the man was written all over her face. Kindred spirits, Kellen supposed.

“Just one song,” Bobbie said, giving her slender bare arms a squeeze for emphasis. “For me?”

“Well, I did promise Kellen I’d play ‘Take the A Train’ for him.” She offered Kellen a smile. “Can you believe he’s never heard it?”

Bobbie laughed. “That definitely needs remedied.”

“Play a song,” Chantel chanted. “Play a song. Play a song.”

The entire table began to imitate her, and the chorus soon spread throughout the bar.

“One song,” Dawn said, lifting a finger.

“As many as you’d like,” Bobbie said, nudging her toward the stage. “I can take the night off.”

Kellen sat up straighter as Dawn approached the piano. She ran a finger over the keys, so lightly that they made no sound. A lover’s caress. Every eye in the room was turned in her direction. He wasn’t sure if it was his association of Dawn plus piano equaling sex, or the way she so easily commanded the massive instrument with a mix of confidence, genuine love for music, and talent, or the way she looked in that dress that had him instantly aroused, but he was suddenly glad he had a sturdy table to hide his lap from view.

“Jimmy better hurry,” Chantel said. “He’ll kill me if he misses this, and maybe if he sees her with a hot guy, he’ll finally get over her.”

Kellen couldn’t take his eyes off Dawn to spare Chantel a glance. He murmured, “Mmm hmm,” which seemed to appease her enough to silence her chatter.

Dawn slid onto the piano bench and adjusted the microphone. “I won’t damage your hearing with my singing,” she said, and several quiet laughs circulated around the room, “but if you know the words, feel free to sing along.”

Kellen’s heart raced as she began the song, and the melody did seem familiar, so he must have heard the tune at some point. Maybe Adam had played it. He’d played jazz guitar in the past. Bopping around in her chair like she had restless butt syndrome, Chantel sang the chorus, and though she had a phenomenal voice, Kellen wished she’d shut the fuck up so he could focus on Dawn’s playing. During the piano solo, the entire bar fell silent—even Chantel. Perhaps the other patrons were also holding their breaths as Dawn played a series of notes so quick and clear and perfect, he never wanted her to stop. But she did stop eventually, to segue back into the chorus.

“And that’s why I told her she had to leave,” Chantel said with a sad sigh.

Kellen blinked to reset his brain and gave her a look that should have sent her diving under the table for cover, but she had her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand as she watched Dawn play, her body rocking with the beat. How could anyone ask Dawn to leave? Couldn’t this idiot hear how perfectly Dawn played?

“She didn’t miss a note,” Kellen said. “She never misses a note. That was spectacular.”

Chantel’s light brown eyes shifted to him. “Actually, she missed every note, because she makes every song her own. If you knew the original, you’d realize that.”

“She makes every note better,” Bobbie said, a wide smile on his face. “But she doesn’t belong here. Her talent is wasted on the likes of us.”

“You told her to leave because she was wasting her talent?” Kellen knew he’d never have the strength to do that for her. He too much wanted to be with her. He was already dreading the idea of her returning to Los Angeles. But he could deal with a long distance relationship if he had to. That was what planes were for.

“Sometimes she needs nudging,” Chantel said. “Doesn’t know what’s best for her. Lets her emotional attachments to people get in the way of her dreams.”

And maybe that was why he’d found her alone in that beach house. He’d thought it unusual that some lucky man hadn’t already made her his.

“So don’t you get in her way, mister.” Chantel poked him in the arm. “She needs support behind her, not in front of her barring her path to greatness.”

“How about beside her?” Kellen asked, thinking there was no way he’d ever stand in her way.

“Maybe,” she said as the song ended and she jumped to her feet to applaud.

Kellen clapped along with the rest of the bar and winked at Dawn when she turned his way. It was almost as if she was looking for his approval, but she sure didn’t need it. The woman was spectacular in every sense of the word. And she didn’t need to perform for him to recognize it.

“Play ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’!” someone yelled from across the bar.

She turned on the bench, and Kellen thought she might tell off the requester—as she’d mentioned how much it bothered her to have to play that song in jazz clubs—but she squinted into the gloom near the bar entrance and asked, “Jimmy?”

“Dawn!” The man yelled again and shoved through the crowd, jostling people unnecessarily as he headed for the stage.

“Jimmy?” she repeated.

“Dawn!”

Kellen laughed as he was reminded of the scene from Rocky when Adrian and Rocky continued to call for each other. His laughter died when Jimmy reached the stage and scooped a laughing Dawn into his arms. Kellen didn’t know what he’d expected—some unattractive slob, apparently—so when he recognized Jimmy as the prime specimen he was, Kellen rose to his feet. The dude had the body of a boxer, the face of a male model, and the messy hair of someone who didn’t own a comb.

Chantel grabbed Kellen’s wrist. “They’re just friends,” she said.

“I put pants on for you,” Jimmy told Dawn loud enough for everyone to hear. “And ran three blocks.”

“But didn’t bother combing your hair.” Dawn tried flattening it with one hand, and Kellen recognized affection between them, but no attraction. At least not on her end.

“She treats him like a little brother,” Chantel added. “He’s got girls tripping over each other to be with him, yet he talks about her all the time. All. The. Time. He’s so pathetic.”

“Some guys are like that. They only want what they can’t have.” As soon as he said it, he thought of Sara. Was that why he was still hanging on to her, because he couldn’t have her? He dismissed the thought and reclaimed his seat, watching Dawn avoid a misguided kiss from Jimmy.

“I brought my trumpet,” Jimmy said, lifting the case he held in one hand. “Thought we could have a band reunion.” He searched the crowd, and Chantel waved a hand to gain his attention. “There’s my little Chanty. Got your sticks?”

Chantel slid out from behind the table and pulled a pair of drumsticks from the back pocket of her faded jeans. “Never leave home without them.”

It turned out that Chantel also sang. The little trio was quite good. Even a rocker who didn’t typically listen to jazz recognized that. Bobbie especially seemed to enjoy his unexpected night off as he bobbed and swayed to the music. Kellen liked watching Dawn play, but he missed her proximity. He wondered if she’d felt that way while watching his performance earlier that night. Knowing her, she’d probably been so busy rewriting all their songs for them that she hadn’t paid him much mind.

After half a dozen songs, the trio let Bobbie reclaim his stage, but Jimmy wouldn’t let Dawn get off the piano bench until she agreed to play “Flight of the Bumblebee.” Kellen was up and ready to rescue her, but she conceded to play and even sent Kellen a little smile, rolling her eyes, before she turned back to the keyboard. Still on his feet, Kellen felt his jaw drop when her fingers flew over the keys. And while she’d started off playing the fast, familiar melody, once again she made it her own, making the piece even more complex than the original.

When she finished, the bar erupted into cheers, and Kellen simply gawked. He knew she was good—great—spectacular. But she continued to surprise him by how good, great, and spectacular she truly was.

“Too talented for the likes of us,” Bobbie said, clapping Kellen on the back. “Take good care of our pretty little prodigy.”

Kellen smiled. “I will.”

Slightly breathless, Dawn approached the table and hugged Bobbie before shooing him back toward the stage. Kellen wasn’t sure why he pulled her into his arms and claimed her mouth in a deep, satisfying kiss; he wasn’t usually big on public displays. Maybe it was because Jimmy was hanging awfully close to her. When they drew apart, Kellen lifted his gaze to meet Jimmy’s eyes. He expected Jimmy to be angry or at the very least jealous, but the guy just grinned.

“Did Dawn finally get laid?” He turned to the table and said, “Dawn got laid.” Dawn elbowed him in the ribs, which made him shout to the entire bar, “Did everyone hear? Dawn finally got laid!”

“And that is why I never dated him,” Dawn said, shaking her head. “He’s incorrigible.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Jimmy said with a grin. “But I choose to take it as a compliment.”

“That was amazing,” Kellen said. “Not sure why Dawn keeps her jazz-playing days a secret.”

“She’s embarrassed by us,” Chantel said, plopping into an empty chair and gulping the remains of the beer she’d abandoned nearly an hour before.

“I am not.” Dawn patted Jimmy on the arm. “I just don’t understand the point of dwelling on the past.”

“You’ve always been annoyingly forward thinking,” Chantel said. “Now sit and tell us what it’s like to walk the red carpet.”

“I’d rather know what you two have been up to,” Dawn said, waiting for Kellen to find his seat so she could sit on his knee again.

He wrapped one arm around her. Yes, he wanted her close, not up on that stage. On his lap, in his arms. Now if only they were alone . . . But she obviously wanted to catch up with her friends, so he’d just breathe her in and think about everything he planned to do to her graceful body later.

“Chantel said you were broadening your horizons.”

Jimmy shrugged. “I’m still writing music for video games.”

Kellen straightened and turned toward Jimmy. “She did tell me about that.”

“She’s the one who got me started,” Jimmy said. “She doesn’t stick to one thing for long. She gets bored and moves on.”

Kellen assumed that was a dig on him. That Dawn would soon get bored with him and move on.

“I guess I’ll just have to be the most interesting man in the world.”

“Stop,” Dawn said, resting a hand on his chest. “I don’t need some beer commercial hero. I just hadn’t found what I was looking for. Until now.”

The weight of her claim lay heavily on him, but he shook the stupid feeling aside and smiled, running a finger down her bare back until she shivered.

“For now,” Jimmy said. “Chantel is thinking about giving up the drums and pursuing singing.”

If his tactic was to drive Dawn’s attention away from Kellen, he succeeded.

“But you love the drums!” Dawn said.

“A front man—or woman—needs to be out front,” Chantel said. “Drummers shouldn’t sing.”

“Phil Collins probably wouldn’t agree with that,” Kellen said.

“That’s one success story.” Chantel lifted one finger in the air. “One!”

“There are others. Don Henley. Uh . . . David Grohl.” Kellen struggled for more names. There really weren’t many successful drummer singers.

“David Grohl doesn’t play drums anymore,” Chantel said.

“I don’t even know who David Grohl is.” Dawn cringed when Chantel gasped.

“Heads the Foo Fighters?”

Dawn shook her head.

“Originally the drummer for Nirvana?”

Dawn brightened. “I’ve heard of Nirvana. They did ‘Smells Like Teen Spearmint,’ right?”

Kellen snorted on a laugh but didn’t correct her.

“We tried to get her to live in the twenty-first century,” Jimmy said, shaking his head, “but she insists on staying in the sixteenth.”

“Sheesh. I’m not that old-fashioned.” Dawn slugged Jimmy in the arm. “There were some greats in the Baroque period—like Bach and Vivaldi—but I’m much more into the late eighteenth or early nineteenth centuries.”

Kellen snorted on another laugh and hugged her tight. Nope, the eighteenth century wasn’t old school at all.

“So you forget what’s usual and become the next Phil Collins,” Dawn said to Chantel. “Sing from behind your drums.”

“But jazz,” Jimmy added.

“It will have to be pop.” Chantel released a deep sigh. “No one listens to jazz anymore. Like I said, I have to broaden my horizons. Or narrow them.”

“No one listens to classical either,” Dawn said. “You have to make your own niche, girl. Get out there. Let your soul shine.”

Chantel squeezed Dawn’s hand. “I’ve missed this. Missed you. You always did make me believe I was capable of anything.”

“Because you are.”

Apparently his Dawn wasn’t just the beacon in his darkness. Her light shone brightly on all those she touched.