CHAPTER ELEVEN
The wait for Simon to change and get back to his car was eternal. It felt like everyone in the entire garden was staring at her. She tucked her hair behind her ear and sat on the edge of the patinated fountain. Better to just study the old cobblestone.
“If I was a romantic, that shit would have been tear-worthy.”
Margo swiveled and then stood when Jamie DuCaine came up beside her. Margo wasn’t exactly short, but Jamie was all legs and lean perfection, standing as tall as Simon with her boots on. Margo gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, the vids on the internet are going to haunt me.”
“Oh yeah, they are.”
Margo winced. “Just wait until you’re stupid in love.”
Jamie snorted. “The chances of that are equal to me jumping off a cliff.”
“I thought so, too.” She hadn’t been looking for love when Simon happened. And he was also the worst choice if her brain had been engaged in the process. Too bad her heart had taken over long ago.
“Simon’s a good guy. He was moping for you all damn morning. These pictures? Simon Kagan, lovesick puppy.” Jamie bent her long fingers into a C and slid it across the air as if to mime a headline. “Totally going to be front page on Rolling Stone.”
Margo laughed in spite of her embarrassment. “Didn’t seem like it.”
“We finally got him to laugh and lo and behold there you were. We look like two hoes crawling all over him. You can blame Roman. Sex sells and Simon is sex on a stick walking.”
Margo’s eyebrow winged up. “You don’t say.”
Jamie threw her head back, her laugh loud and not the least bit apologetic. “I’ve got eyes. I just have impulse control.” She slapped Margo’s arm. “Sometimes. Take care, chick.” She waved to Simon as he came out of the dressing tent. “Bye, stud. Be good.” She winked at Margo and sauntered off.
Simon’s hair was wet and slicked back. The makeup was scrubbed from his face, leaving him all cheekbones and intensely blue eyes. He wore jeans just as battered as her own and one of his beloved concert T-shirts. He even wore his flips. It was the first time she’d seen him look like his old self in too many months to count.
He was always on lately. Whether he was wearing Roman originals for a premiere, or dressed up for one of his other half dozen personal appearances, she’d seen a suited up Simon more than the relaxed man she’d fallen for on tour. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed him until he came up to her and slung his arm around her shoulders and dragged her against him.
She tipped her head up and met his mouth with hers. The kiss went from a sweet hello to hot and deep in a flash. He turned until she was flush with him from hip to chest and one of his hands dipped into her back pocket. He squeezed her cheek until there was no denying the hard length of him pressed against her belly.
She didn’t steer him away from the intimacy. In fact, she cupped his jaw and went headlong into that delightful haze that only Simon could bring out in her. Where instinct and lust blended with oxygen and bloomed to life like a flame. The fingers of his other hand drilled into her hair and tightened so he could turn her head where he wanted it. And what he wanted was deep, tongue-sucking kisses that liquefied her knees.
The urge to drag him into the shadows like she used to was almost undeniable.
Almost.
Curiosity was a little too high on this set.
She went up on her toes and cupped his face with both hands, slowing the kiss down until it was breath and mint, sighs and a half groan from him that made her spine tingle. “Home.”
He smiled into the last of the kiss. “Home.” He took her hand and lead her out of the little garden with the mossy green-flecked cherub and uneven cobblestones into the cement jungle that was downtown Los Angeles. She played with the silver rope chain around his wrist as they waited at the crosswalk.
“What’s up, Violin Girl?”
“I talked with Lila a lot last night and then this morning when the emotional wine-induced insanity was over.”
“I had whiskey. I paid this morning. Even a prayer to the porcelain gods to start off the day.”
She winced. “Yeah, that’s not good for the cords.”
“Tell me about it.”
Guilt gnawed at her. “I’m sorry I contributed to that.”
“I pushed it too hard at practice. The more I pushed, the more I fell back on old habits and the worse it got.”
She pressed her cheek to his arm and leaned into him. “I know.” And all that anger had brought their original fight to the forefront all over again.
“I made an appointment with Jerry for a session tomorrow.”
“Good.”
He pressed an absent kiss to her temple just as the crosswalk burst to life and traffic let them pass. He jangled his key against the ring he was wearing.
“When did you get that?”
He frowned. “Get what?”
She laughed. “The ring.”
“Oh, shit. I forgot to take it off.”
She switched sides with him so she could hold his right hand with the ring on it. It was a large, square onyx with an R in the center in Roman’s stylized font. “It’s kind of hot. I’d prefer an S there though.”
He grinned at her. “That can be arranged.” They got to his car and he opened the door. He caged her in and bent down as she did to get into the car. The kiss was sweet and soft and ended with that smirky smile that had caught her attention that first day in the studio.
He’d been so smug and full of cocky bravado, but she still hadn’t been able to dismiss him. No matter how hard she tried, he’d gotten under her skin and she’d been done for. She grinned back up at him before he closed the door and rounded the front of the car. He got in and hit the ignition. The Audi’s engine roared to life and he slammed it into gear, peeling out into traffic when there was an opening.
She played with his fingers on the gear shift. “Do you remember that day in the studio—that first day?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “Oh yeah. It was that purple Starfish that got me first. I saw all those traditional instruments packed away in their boring black cases. Not even a scuff mark on half of them. But then there was your bright purple violin sitting on that folding chair.” He flattened his hand on his chest. “Then you walked in and I was gonzo.”
“Me too.”
“You hated me on sight.”
“Maybe a little.”
“Well except for your girl parts.” He leaned over and nipped at her neck. “Your girl parts were on fiyah for me from the start.”
“You’re a pig.”
“I’m your pig.”
She scrunched down in her seat and turned toward him. “Yeah, you are.”
He took their joined hands and brought her wrist up to his mouth. He dragged his teeth along the skin, then followed it with a flash of tongue and a brush of his lips. “So why the serious face?”
“You know how I said there was some stuff I wanted to say without an audience?”
“You can tell me anything. It’s not going to change how I feel about you. Well, unless you’re dumping me and then things are going to get ugly and I’m going to try and change your mind. Then your ankles will end up over your head as I make you realize that there’s no way we’re ever breaking up.”
Her heart slammed against her chest. “Sex isn’t the answer.”
“It’s a good argument though.”
She laughed and laced their fingers. “No. I’m not going anywhere. But there’s a reason I’m a bit…”
“Jealous?”
“A bit more than that.”
He nodded. “I noticed. I assumed someone cheated on you. But no matter what I’ve been, Margo—I’ve never been a cheater. It’s more like no other woman has ever mattered enough to make me want more than a few nights of fun. You’re the first. You’re the only as far as I’m concerned.”
She swallowed and damn her eyes for misting again. Hadn’t she cried enough the night before? “No, I’ve never been cheated on.” She cleared her throat. “But my mom has.”
He was quiet a moment. “Well, fuck. I’m sorry, baby.” He untwisted their grasp to slip his fingers along the nape of her neck. “That’s crap. Your dad?”
She forced herself to meet his eyes. “Yeah. The worst part is that they’re still together. He just keeps a woman on the side—usually more than one. He says he loves my mother. And God knows she doesn’t make things easy for anyone. The Reece name is everything as far as she’s concerned. She married into the long Bostonian history of it with a purpose. And that’s all that matters to her.”
“Or, that’s all she’ll show you that matters.”
Margo frowned. She’d never thought of it that way. Again, everyone else seemed to have a different insight into her family than she did. He massaged the back of her head until she leaned into him over the console. “Maybe that’s part of it. But she’s all about appearances. I don’t know who I hate more—her for putting up with it or him for sleeping around.”
“So we both have crap in our backgrounds. My old man was pretty much a stain on the world, but he stuck around. Used me as a punching bag until I learned to duck.”
She sat up and met his gaze. “Simon.”
He shrugged. “As I said, I learned to duck. Kids from Carson learned to fend for themselves. My mom split when I was…maybe four? I don’t really remember her.”
As much as her mother drove her crazy, she couldn’t imagine not having one. She brought her hand up to his face and lightly dragged the backs of her fingers along his jaw. “And here I am bitching about my home life.”
He ducked his chin until he could kiss her fingers. “To you, that was the worst thing ever. I met Nick and managed to stay out of my old man’s way more than within the reach of his fists. I found music in high school. Was the only thing I gave a damn about.” He entered the ramp for the freeway to get them back home. As usual it was a bottleneck of cars to get on. He turned to her. “Until you.”
“Oh, Simon. Is it any wonder that I love you so much I’m crazy with it?”
“Makes two of us.” He leaned over and kissed her gently. “No matter what happens with us, you can rely on one thing. I’ll never cheat. I’d never intentionally fuck up our relationship. I’m no saint. I’m never going to be a Deacon type, or even a Gray type.”
“I don’t want them.” She didn’t have to think, or even mull that over. It had always been Simon.
“Good. Because you’ve got me. And I’m not letting you go.”
The relief washed over her like ocean spray at the pier. Allowing the rightness of them to finally sink under her skin and inside of her.
He accelerated into traffic and they shot down the passing lane.
And for the first time ever, she held onto the handle at his speed. The thrill of it surged into her bloodstream. She leaned into him, her hand on his belly.
“Fuck. Don’t start that. I’m already breaking two different laws.”
She glanced down at the speedometer. “Naughty Simon—reckless driving and speeding?”
“I need to get home because I need to be inside you.”
Her hand slid lower and she smiled into his neck as he groaned. “I’ve missed you, Simon.”
“I’ve been here the whole time, babe.”
“It feels like we haven’t been us in a very long time.”
“And I intend to change that in exactly…” He glanced at the dash. “Eight minutes.”
Her hand slid lower to cup him through his jeans. “Wonder how good your reflexes are at this speed?”
“You’re going to be the death of me.” He groaned. “Who’d have thought my girl would get off on speed?”
Oh, she did. She so did. She focused on the speedometer. “Keep it at eight-two.” She found the tab of his zipper and pulled it down. “Steady, Singer Boy.”