CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Grant Thornhill had the exemplary blues voice. His throaty rasp seemed infused with cigarettes and whisky, or at least that was how it sounded. His body bent back slightly as he twanged his guitar. Confidant and very capable, Grant was the consummate performer. With Sara on keyboards, along with a drummer and a bass guitarist, the music was visceral. Then again, everything about that night seemed raw and emotive.
I enjoyed the blues, especially how the bass worked through my ribcage. Grant was an accomplished musician, plucking his dark chords with deep emotion. And Sara’s melodious harmonies blended effortlessly. They were a tight and well-practiced band.
Aidan stood behind me, and with his arms around my waist, he was enticingly close. He felt divinely hard against my butt. And as he moved to the music, it was almost obscene. I prayed nobody could smell my desire, because I was dripping with it.
When Aidan asked me to dance to the slow ballad, I responded with a puzzled frown.
“What’s wrong? You don’t want to?” Aidan asked.
“I do, only it’s slow,” I replied.
“All the better,” said Aidan with that chocolate-melting smile.
He led me onto the dance floor, placing one arm around my shoulder and another around my waist. My cheek rested on his shoulder for a slow and sensuous dance.
I suddenly discovered another magical aspect of the past: the waltz. Aidan was right—the slower the better. I had never waltzed before. And Aidan was an excellent partner, confident and capable with no clumsy moves. I don’t even recall feeling my feet on the ground, we seemed to glide.
When the song ended, Grant said, “Thanks for coming, folks. This is the last number and I’d like to call my son, Aidan, up for a little jam.”
Aidan shook his head. “No.”
I was in his ear in an instant. “I would love you to play, Aidan. Please.”
The audience was with me, clapping keenly. “I think you have to,” I said with an encouraging nod.
He brushed his hair away from his face and rolled his eyes. His face flushed, he finally agreed. Aidan’s innate sensitivity made my heart dissolve.
I saw him whisper something to his security mates, whose attention thereafter was directed at me.
Aidan picked up a green electric guitar and waited for his father to plug him in. Then, with a harmonica in his mouth, Grant started the song. Side by side, father and son made for a powerful and moving image. The rhythm so hypnotic my body swayed. Ripping into a guitar solo, Aidan was a rock god. He had an immense presence on stage. And his playing, oh my, I hadn’t expected it, but Aidan was a consummate musician.
The place went wild. My heart flipped with each explosive strum of that sexy-sounding guitar. Talent was supposed to be an aphrodisiac, and Aidan had plenty of it to add to his already supreme sexiness. His solo was heartfelt. With eyes shut, while biting his bottom lip, Aidan looked like he was in the throes of a musical orgasm. Or did I read sex into everything to do with Aidan?
My face and body ached. I was overdosing on his sheer animal allure. A thorn in my side was the pest who wouldn’t take no for an answer. After I refused to dance with him, he grabbed my arm imploringly. And despite being in deep musical concentration, Aidan’s expression hardened. I noticed his eyes move over my head. Within a breath, a security guard, the one Aidan had spoken to, came over, and after a few words, my admirer crept off with a disappointed scowl.
Aidan played the guitar as if making love. His pelvis flexed against the instrument. I had to fan my face. In fact, the whole room by then was awash in female hormones. I’m certain I wasn’t the only one heating up down south.
Their tuneful singing melded brilliantly. Aidan’s eyes never left mine as he sang along. The ballad spoke of pain. I wondered what he was telling me. I was the only one there suddenly. Unable to close my jaw, I thought to myself, how did I—an art history major with very little to show for it— end up with such a man?
After performing an encore to rapturous applause, the set came to an end, and the patrons cleared out.
Aidan and I sat with Grant and Sara. While Aidan slid off to have a chat with his ex-army buddies, Grant sat next to me.
“I can’t tell you how it feels to see Aidan looking so happy. It’s the first time in ages, if ever I’ve seen him like that.”
Ever?
“Oh?” Questions suddenly lined up in my busy mind.
“Aidan hasn’t had an easy life. His mother was, and still is, a raging alcoholic and not a pretty one at that.” He smiled grimly. “The army broke Aidan.”
“He hasn’t spoken about that much,” I said.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” said Grant almost to himself. “Aidan doesn’t speak to anyone about that period in his life. When my boy returned from Afghanistan, not only had he changed physically and mentally, but he also brought back a demon.”
“One reads about the shock of war. Shell shock it was called in the olden days. I guess it’s still the same.”
“It sure is. Not that Aidan has fessed up to anything. He doesn’t speak about it at all. But there’s something going on.” He took a sip of his drink and rolled a cigarette. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
I shook my head.
“Anyway, this is a first. I can see he’s crazy about you. I’ve only met one woman, and he never brought her here, mind you.” Grant took a puff of his cigarette. “I met his ex by sheer accident. I’ve never seen Aidan as relaxed as he is with you.” His eyes, just like Aidan’s, glowed with sincerity. I could see the love he had for Aidan. “And by the way, all that gossip about Aidan changing women as often as his underwear is absolute bullshit. I can see you’re a sensitive girl.” He smiled gently. “I’m sure that’s what my boy sees in you. And one thing’s for sure: Aidan has changed since I last saw him. When he made money, Aidan had lots of girls around. While many of his army buddies abused liquor or drugs to deal with the aftermath of a vicious campaign, Aidan got his escape from chicks.” He raised his eyebrows. “But he’s changed, especially after Jessica.”
“After Jessica?” I asked.
His eyes did a quick sweep of the room. “Let’s put it this way. Aidan got involved for all the wrong reasons—some irrational need to tie the Thornhill name to old wealth. Not that he’s ever admitted that. I think it’s because he wanted to remove attention from his dysfunctional upbringing. I’m not too proud about that, mind you.” His mouth twisted. “But in those days, career and touring came as natural to me as breathing did.”
“The life of an artist is complex,” I said gently.
“Yeah, sure is.” His mouth turned up at one end, just like his son’s. “Aidan’s made running away from his past a lifetime habit.” He paused and regarded me with familiar intensity. Like father, like son. “Maybe one day he’ll reveal to you what’s holding him down. He sees a shrink.”
“Oh, right?” I recrossed my legs. “You mentioned Jessica.”
“She brought with her a lifestyle foreign to Aidan. He changed, or at least, he couldn’t be himself. That’s when Aidan built this place—not only to keep me from touring, but so he could escape Jessica.” Grant chuckled. “They didn’t look good together. One can always read people’s relationships by their body language. It came as no surprise when Aidan ended it. It was a relief.”
“Was she that bad?” I sat forward, keen for all the gritty detail.
“She’s attractive, to be sure.” Grant’s face softened. “Not like you, of course. I’ve never seen Aidan with anyone as strikingly beautiful as you. Jessica was alluring in a manicured way. Aidan described her as bossy, controlling, and someone who whined a lot.”
Grant paused and took a sip of his drink. “When he broke it off, she left the country. It created a rift with some of the families around Malibu. Not that Aidan cares about that.” Grant’s focus suddenly shifted away from my face to above my head.
A hand landed on my shoulder. I turned to find Aidan there, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You two appear to be in a deep and meaningful conversation.” He settled down by my side.
“Just learning a little about Clarissa, that’s all,” said Grant, giving me a subtle wink.
Aidan leaned in and whispered, “Are you ready to go?” He touched the nape of my neck, sending a shiver through me. I nodded.
As we stood to leave, Sara said, “You’ll both have to come over for dinner soon. How about this week sometime?”
“I’ve got business to attend to. I’ll be out of town this week. And there’s an auction.” He looked at me as if that activity involved me. “Let me get back to you. Probably the week after.” He kissed her on the cheek.
Judging by his relaxed manner and familiar tone, it was clear that Aidan liked his stepmother.
“Okay. But make sure you do. I’d like to get to know this little sweetie.” She kissed me on the cheek.
Grant whispered, “It’s been a delight meeting you. Take care of my boy. He’s more fragile than he makes out.” He hugged me, and they left.