Chapter Fifteen
Zander’s manager, Robbie Forsythe had eyes so deep-set, the sockets could probably hold walnuts. A voice that galloped and reared and an unexpected mouthful of beautiful white teeth incongruous with his life-weathered face. Small and wiry, he chain-smoked while talking incessantly. He fidgeted, he paced, he glanced at his watch, he was a man always in a hurry. When he left halfway through the Lisbon preshow function for local music bigwigs to act on an “urgent call,” Elizabeth half-expected him to transform into a superhero complete with cape—he so obviously saw his mission as saving the world.
Zander gazed after his manager wistfully and watching him across the function room, she grinned. Robbie was taking Zander’s second-hand smoke with him.
You’re staring again. Sighing, she ordered a second Bloody Mary from the bar. The Barcelona concert had unleashed her attraction to him and forty-eight hours later she was still struggling to bring it to heel.
They’d interviewed in Zander’s dressing room preshow last night but she’d left before the concert, saying she wrote best in the early mornings and couldn’t afford back-to-back late nights.
“Don’t you ever get tired of the missionary position?” said the short, barrel-chested man waiting beside her at the bar.
“Excuse me?”
“Stormy said you two went to church yesterday,” he thrust out a hairy hand. “Stefan Rogan, Rage’s European distributor. I’ve always wanted to use that missionary line.”
“It’s an attention-getter alright,” she said politely. Expensively-dressed, he had a wolfish grin and a thatch of gray hair to match Grandma’s roof. Come to think of it, she’d seen him sniffing around Stormy earlier. “Elizabeth Winston, Zander’s biographer.”
“Yeah, I heard.” They shook hands and Stefan’s was clammy. “You don’t often meet God-botherers at rock parties.” When she raised her brows, he barked a laugh. “Hey no offense, I love talking about belief systems—astrology, reincarnation, consumerism.”
Oh Lord, save me now. With a smile, she accepted her drink from the bartender.
“C’mon,” Stefan invited, “see if you can convert me.”
Her keen sense of the ridiculous kicked in. “I’m neither that skilled nor that presumptuous.”
Across the room, her gaze collided with Zander’s and held too long.
“But sure,” with an effort she refocused on Stefan, “Let’s talk belief systems.” I believe I’ll shake off this growing obsession with Zander.
Stefan steered her into a quiet corner. “How do you feel about sex before marriage?”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” she replied. “In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth.” It was fun citing as many verses as she could remember and watching Stefan’s eyes glaze over. Unfortunately, boredom didn’t stop his hand wandering.
Time to wrap up.
“In conclusion, it puzzles me that those who believe in nothing feel qualified to mock those who believe in something. Now take your hand off my ass or I’ll kick you in the goolies.”
Stefan’s breath was whiskey sour as he leaned in. His palm moved across her bottom and squeezed. “Aren’t you supposed to turn the other cheek?”
Elizabeth reached between his legs and twisted. He gasped and let go.
“I’m more of the eye-for-an-eye school myself,” she said pleasantly.
“Why you—”
Luther materialized beside them. “Is there a problem?”
Stefan massaged his groin. “Yeah, this bitch assaulted me.”
“He was groping me.”
“What the hell is a prude doing at one of your parties anyway?”
“Take a deep breath,” Luther suggested coolly to Stefan, “and calm down.”
“I can’t take a deep breath, my nuts are in my fucking throat!”
Luther nodded for Elizabeth to leave him to it. Turning, she bumped into Zander, who caught her shoulders to steady her.
“Doc, you know the only person allowed to create a scene is me.”
“She grabbed my nuts,” Stefan bellowed, drawing some attention.
“I thought we’d put enough peanuts out for everybody… Oh, you mean your balls?” Zander released her shoulders. “Why would a person as civil as Dr. Elizabeth Winston be so crass?”
Stefan glowered. “It was a misunderstanding. I brushed her ass accidentally. Christ, you’d think I’d asked for anal, the way she overreacted.”
Elizabeth said hotly, “Exactly what part of ‘take your hand off my ass or I’ll kick you in the goolies’ was unclear?”
“To be fair,” Zander said, “English isn’t Stefan’s first language and a term like ‘goolies’ might lose something in translation.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re making excuses for him?”
“Doc, Stefan is one of the head honchos at my record company. Really important.”
“Right,” Elizabeth said, quietly furious.
Mollified, Stefan gestured to Luther who was standing impassively. “And this bozo was taking her side.”
Zander looked at Luther and sighed. “And I thought we’d be able to settle this with one apology.”
Elizabeth bristled. “Okay, I’ve had—”
“Instead, you’ll have to make two,” Zander told Stefan. “One to Dr. Winston and one to my head of security.” He added coldly, “Or you can leave.”
Angry color suffused the other man’s face. “I’m not fucking apologizing!”
“Show him out, Luther. Notice, how I accepted your no, Stefan? Not that hard really, much like the goolies Dr. Winston just grappled with.” Ignoring the other man’s furious protests, Zander guided her out of earshot.
“I’m not sorry for teaching him manners,” she said, “but I am sorry if this has created a problem for you.”
“It’ll be interesting to see if I’m important enough again to avoid any fallout.” Zander looked at her. “I have to say I’m hurt that you’d flirt with that douche bag and not with me.”
“I gave him no encouragement whatsoever!”
“You just can’t help being fatally attractive, can you?”
“It’s a curse.” Her temper subsided, she managed a rueful smile. “I’m giving up being a sex object. We’re interchangeable, which is working havoc on my self-esteem.”
He laughed. “Doc, you’re the most together woman I know.”
“Yes,” she said distractedly, “but you’ve led a sheltered life.” Following her gaze, Zander saw Kayla at the buffet table, gloomily eating shrimp and watching women swarm her husband.
Jared beckoned her to join them and Kayla shook her head and mouthed, “It’s okay.” Woman-speak for “come find out what’s wrong.” With an exasperated shrug, Jared returned to his conversation. Kayla reloaded her plate with shrimp.
“Ouch.” Elizabeth articulated Zander’s feelings. “What’s happening with those two?”
“Jared used to be happy following Kayla’s lead.” He recalled the bassist’s shyness through auditions. “She was the organizer, he was the dreamer. Suddenly the world’s telling him he’s Indiana Jones and he’s taking that attitude back to his marriage.”
“He’s changing the rules,” Elizabeth said.
“He won’t succeed. People can talk equality all they want, but generally someone runs the marriage and from what I’ve seen that’s Kayla.
“I disagree. In good marriages—like my parents’—power is a constantly changing dynamic depending on who has the skills, interest or aptitude in a particular area.”
“Don’t forget personality quirks,” said Zander, amused by her pragmatism. Not for this woman, “love conquers all.” “That’s what Mom called them.”
“Explain.”
“Dad had this thing about paying whenever they were out and my feminist Mom didn’t protest because it was important to him.”
“Oh yes,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “My parents had stuff like that too. And if something mattered equally to both of them, they’d find a compromise.”
“Like which country to live in,” said Zander. “My folks lived in New Zealand while Dev and I were young and moved to the States for school.”
Building a good marriage had always seemed like damn hard work, which was why he’d never bothered to venture, machete in hand, down that happy trail. But suddenly he could see the negotiations could be interesting with the right person.
“So returning to your Indiana Jones analogy,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully. “Jared’s Ark quest is distinguishing fool’s gold from real gold.”
For some reason that hit a nerve. “What are you talking about; he’s hit the mother lode.”
“Already discovered by you,” she pointed out, “alongside the original members of Rage. Isn’t that why you brought in young talent? To adopt a mentor role and evolve the band?”
Zander squirmed. “I’m not Yoda… Kayla looks about to cry.”
As he’d intended, Elizabeth left immediately on missionary work.
Zander watched the younger woman brighten as she caught sight of her rescuer and his spike of irritation subsided. As annoying as Elizabeth’s questions could be, he couldn’t regret hiring her.
Dimity joined him. “You like her.”
“Everybody likes her.” He straightened as he watched Doc administer an encouraging hug. She’d told him her attraction was nothing personal. He was an idiot. Everything with Elizabeth was personal.
“I mean you really like her.”
Irritated, he glanced down at his grinning PA. “What are we, twelve?”
He caught a promoter waving across the room and mustering a grin, headed over. Okay, maybe a little tenderness sneaked in through the flight when Doc had dropped her metaphorical scalpel and snuggled into his shoulder, all cute and trusting.
There was an antidote for schmaltz. Raw sex.
* * *
“For a cynic, you’ve written some incredible love songs.” Two days later, Elizabeth poured herself tea from an earthenware teapot and returned to sit beside Zander.
It was siesta hour on a beltingly hot Madrid afternoon and a rest day for the band. Even the kids had called time-out on the pool and surrendered to a nap; a lull hung over the hotel. His suite was cool and dim, crisply pleasant with air-conditioning and shutters filtering out the sun.
It had been a good session so far, the languor affecting even Zander. He lounged on the couch in an open-necked, loose cotton shirt, loose black pants, his bare feet crossed at the ankles on the coffee table. All tanned and golden and reflective. To a point.
“Devin wrote most of the lyrics.”
“And yet you sing them with such heart. Did your parents have a good marriage?”
He shifted. “Why the hell would you ask that?”
“Humor me.”
“Yeah, they had a great marriage. And when Dad died, Mom took years to get over it.”
“So what, don’t get close?”
“Hedge your bets.”
Smiling, Elizabeth shook her head.
“Like you do.” His posture might be lazy, his gaze was not. “That’s really why you turned me down the other night, isn’t it?”
She sipped her tea, giving herself a moment to reply. “In my experience, people fall into three types. Those who consider consequences, those who won’t and those who can’t—usually the under-fives.”
“I’m a won’t,” he said blithely.
Impossible to maintain a buffer zone with a man who didn’t recognize boundaries, so she didn’t try. Sooner or later they had to have this conversation. “One of us has to be sensible.”
Zander snorted.
“Don’t knock the well-behaved,” she said. “We’re the backbone of society, mostly doing the right thing because somebody has to. We don’t create drama because we’ve done the hard yards cleaning up after those who do. Maybe we’re not the color, but we’re the weft and the weave, the cloth that holds families and communities together. Being normal isn’t humanity’s glory job, but it is important.”
“You think you’re normal?”
“Yes,” she said firmly.
“Here’s a fun game.” He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “I’ll take your point of view, you take mine. We’ll argue each other’s position.”
She looked at him warily.
“I’ll go first. We shouldn’t sleep together because it might complicate our working relationship. I’m a guy who, given an inch will take two miles and it’s tough enough making sneaky incursions into my privacy without simultaneously having to defend yours. You have rules in your sexual relationships and I’m not good with rules.”
Elizabeth was impressed. “Yes.”
“Now argue my corner. It’s a great idea because…”
Impressed, but not ready to play. “I have a vagina?”
Dropping his arms, Zander said patiently, “I’ll start you off. We’re both single and we’re friends.”
“We’re not friends. I’m your biographer.”
“Quit splitting hairs. We like each other. And there’s no Hippocratic oath for biographers.”
“What about the space-time continuum, and my impartial observer status?”
“The status you violated the day you offered Stormy a lift home?” he said dryly.
Elizabeth moved quickly on. “You want me because I’ve said no and that makes me a challenge.”
“As astonishing as it is to believe, I have been rejected and accepted it gracefully.”
“Then why not let this go?”
“You’re arguing my corner, you tell me.”
They needed to return to their interview, so Elizabeth reined in her impatience. “You have a to-do list of sexual conquests and you haven’t ticked off nerdy redhead. Maybe you’ve always been curious about small breasts or freckles or…” She stopped, sipped her tea and put the cup down on the coffee table. “Huh, I didn’t think I had those insecurities.”
“Me neither,” Zander said. “Let me help you with your self-esteem.”
Smiling would only encourage him. “Okay, I’m stumped. I can’t conjure a single rational argument to make on your behalf.”
“Because this isn’t about logic, it’s about chemistry. I want you because of this.” Leaning closer, he brushed his fingers up her arm and she shivered. “Because you set up a hum in my blood like a tune I keep trying to catch. I want to know how you taste, how you feel against me naked, whether your skin smells of cinnamon and vanilla everywhere. I want to hear the sounds you make when you’re having good sex.”
Shocked by the desire his words aroused, Elizabeth moved to the other end of the couch. “I have instincts too. Survival instincts,” she said bluntly. “And they tell me to run when you talk this way.”
“How do you differentiate between survival instinct and cowardice?”
“Plenty of time to work that out in the safety of the bunker.”
“Okay, let’s factor in your aversion to risk and start with something easy. Kiss me. Once.”
Her pulse jumped. “What? No.”
“You don’t need to deliberate in the bunker.” Zander sat back. “It’s definitely cowardice.”
“You would say that, you’re reckless,” she countered. Her tea would be getting cold. She picked it up. “Really, I’m protecting both of us here.”
Zander yawned.
She clattered her cup into the saucer. “We’ll work now.”
“Good point, you should be rationalizing on your own time.”
Through gritted teeth she said, “You can tip into obnoxious very quickly, you know that, Zander?”
“It’s a failing,” he admitted. “I really should find more diplomatic ways to call people on their bullshit.”
“Or maybe we could all change,” she said sweetly, checking the recorder, “and become more like you.”
“Even better,” he approved. “And disliking me is a perfect time to try the kiss, just saying. After the show when you’re all sexed up would be plain unfair, this way it’s a controlled environment, your favorite kind.”
Elizabeth started the recorder. “So adopting your approach, let me call you on your bullshit. You’re holding out on me with this memoir.”
“I’m an open book,” he protested.
“With pages ripped out. You have this tell-all reputation, but on certain subjects you’re as close as a clam. You told me Stormy broke off your relationship; that wasn’t true… I understand that you’re making some kind of redress—she earns the honor of being the only woman who’s ever dumped you—but it also paints you in a more positive light, doesn’t it?”
His jaw set. “The victim’s not a role I ever intend to play.”
Elizabeth checked the device was recording. “I believe you. But I also suspect you’re leaving out important chapters in your life because they reflect badly on you. Except for the band’s breakup, you haven’t addressed any of the negative rumors that have circulated over recent years, and I only got that because you were rattled after running into Travis.”
Zander uncrossed his bare feet and recrossed them. “Doc, I’m not sensing your usual detachment.”
“There are important pieces missing from your personal history,” Elizabeth continued remorselessly. “Why did you and Devin wait so many years to reveal he was cowriter of your early songs? Is it true he vetoed the use of ‘Sweet Daze’ as the soundtrack to a liquor company’s advertising to stop you prostituting Rage’s legacy? You’re close to your mother and yet there’s a two-year period during which you didn’t visit her. Why is that?”
“I’ll trade you.” The lazy humor had disappeared from his eyes, replaced by a piercing challenge. “One kiss in exchange for an answer to one of those questions.”
She stared at him. “The world is lucky you dropped out of high school before you learned how to properly harness all that Machiavellian cunning.”
“Yeah, I might have made something of myself.”
“Shut up,” she said crossly. “I’m not responding to blackmail!”
“You see blackmail, I see double dare. Why do I have to be brave when you’re allowed to cower in the bunker?”
“The two issues are completely different.”
“Are they?” he said. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” When she hesitated, he added sharply, “If you have to think about it, the sin’s venal. Make some mistakes you can’t ever take back. And then I’ll let you preach to me about honesty.”
He stood as he spoke and she thought he was going to walk out; instead he poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher next to the earthenware teapot. With his back to her, he said, “Since my father died, I have trouble with hospitals. No, that’s not true, I have trouble with life-threatening illnesses.
“When my mother developed a heart condition and needed surgery I didn’t visit. In fact, through her whole health scare, I found excuses not to go to New Zealand. It was the same when Dev collapsed onstage. I couldn’t go with him to the emergency room.”
He returned to his seat, not looking at her. “I’m not proud of it.”
She swallowed. “What if the worst had happened and you hadn’t said good-bye?”
Briefly, his eyes met hers, winter-bleak. “I would never have forgiven myself.”
She reached out to offer comfort, then remembered this was an interview and dropped her hand in confusion. “Thank you for your candor. You’re right, that did take courage.”
Zander was frowning into his glass. “I’ve been seeing a bereavement counselor for the past year, hoping to get over it. In the meantime, Mom’s promised not to fall seriously ill.” He lifted his head and smiled with an effort. “She said if necessary she’ll drop dead, which is very considerate of her. Then she ruined the moment by saying she hoped it would be during sex with her new husband.”
Elizabeth laughed because he needed her to. “It’s easy to see who your irreverent sense of humor comes from.”
“Yep, she’s a character.” Zander drained the water and dumped the glass on the coffee table. “Use it in the memoir,” he said briskly. “I don’t want anybody thinking I don’t love my family.” He retrieved his cell and switched it on. “Okay if we pick this up later? I should return some calls.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth got as far as the door before she turned. “One kiss,” she said.
The terrible shadows left Zander’s eyes. He smiled.
“One,” she repeated.
“Sure,” he said easily.
“And I’m in charge.” The closer Elizabeth got, the more she babbled. “I can touch you but you can’t touch me.”
“Jeez, Doc, just give into the dom fantasy and tie me—”
She kissed him to shut him up, closing her eyes and cautiously moving her mouth against his. The bastard was still smiling. Annoyed, Elizabeth increased the pressure.
His lips were softer than she’d imagined, the slight rasp of surrounding stubble a nice contrast as she caught his jaw and tilted her head to find the best fit…there, yes. A first kiss was about gentle exploration, not shoving your tongue down someone’s throat, so she was surprised to find they’d progressed to open-mouthed without her conscious awareness.
She was just thinking “this is nice” with a mix of relief and disappointment when his tongue touched hers and she fell into the erotically charged heat of the kiss like Alice down the rabbit hole. Dazed, she grabbed Zander’s shoulders for support, her fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders, as the world fell away. Even as she thought, harder, deeper, faster, Elizabeth pushed away.
For a long moment they stared at each other and the only reason she didn’t slap his face was because he looked as stunned as she felt.
Zander cleared his throat. “You’re right, there are too many complications.”
Relief weakened her knees. “Let’s not ruin a friendship.”
“Nothing wrong with bunkers.”
She gestured toward the door. “I’ll leave you in peace.”
“Yeah, lots of work.”
They realized at the same time that they were shaking hands. She thought for a moment Zander wouldn’t release her grip and then he stepped back.
Elizabeth couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
* * *
Two weeks later, Zander looked at his PA, absently massaging her shoulder as they discussed the day’s commitments.
“There’s an hour free between three and four.” Dimity covered her mouth to smother a yawn, staring at her hand-held organizer. “Want me to keep it that way or schedule more promo?”
“Keep it free.” It was one in the morning and he was pacing his room, wired from another successful performance—Rage’s thirteenth. Neither of them saw anything odd about working all hours because when you loved what you did, it wasn’t a job. It was a calling. Still… “When is your birthday?”
She glanced up, surprised. “What?”
“Your birthday. When is it?” Dimity was integral to his life, they talked or texted multiple times a day and, Zander realized with a stab of guilt, he knew nada about her personal life.
“June twenty-fifth. Why?”
Last month. “What did I get you?” She bought all the presents for his permanent staff.
Diamonds sparkled as she held up her wrist. “This tennis bracelet, thanks.”
“Are you…happy in your work?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Zee, are you high?”
“No! Jeez, I’m just making conversation.” He tried another tack. “You know I consider you family.”
Dimity wasn’t impressed. “Do I kiss your ring now, Godfather?”
Zander stretched out a bedecked hand. “Take your pick.”
Rolling her eyes at him, she returned to her scheduling. “Incidentally, today’s the final deadline for a decision on those second shows.”
Ticket demand had exceeded even his wildest hopes and Zander was tempted. His voice was strong. He no longer panicked preshow. When he made his final bow he allowed himself one—just one—dizzying moment of relief, otherwise he let doubt go.
Extra shows would enable him to reach break-even earlier and augment Rage’s popularity.
They could also be the tipping point for his voice to fail.
A by-product of reviewing his career with Elizabeth was understanding where he’d gone wrong and he was trying to be more democratic. Refusing opportunities without offering a good reason wouldn’t go down well with his fellow bandmates or his manager, but he couldn’t tell them the truth either.
“Zander, did you hear me?”
He refocused on Dimity. “Yeah.” Bottom line: He had to protect his voice. “I’ll tell the band no, tomorrow.” He got paid the big bucks because he made the tough decisions.
She checked her watch. “Actually, tomorrow’s today. I should go to bed, I have to be up again in five hours.”
“Why don’t you sleep in?”
She laughed, thinking he was joking. “Simone Dumont and her photographer are meeting the band for breakfast at eight. I need to make sure everything is set up.”
The highbrow journalist from Musique Magazine had joined them for a month to profile the new band members and she and Jared had taken to each other like butter to a baguette. Jared saw a fellow musicologist, Kayla saw a rival and Zander saw trouble, which was why he’d bought the family a pass to a theme park tomorrow at Doc’s suggestion.
Which brought him right back to Dimity. Zander gave up on the indirect approach, since it clearly wasn’t working. “If you have a problem, need anything, I’m always here to talk to.”
His PA’s eyes narrowed, she said slowly. “I’m going to kill Elizabeth.”
So much for protecting his informant. “She’s worried about you. Hell, I’m worried about you.”
“I told her, it’s PMS. No big deal.”
“Of course not,” he soothed. Elizabeth had come across Dimity sobbing in a stadium utility room. “But it probably doesn’t help that you haven’t had time off since we started the tour.”
Dimity threw down her organizer and it bounced off the sofa cushions onto the carpet. “I’ll torture her before I kill her. You wouldn’t have the first clue about my schedule, Zee, without Elizabeth telling you.”
“That’s true.” Picking up the device from the carpet, he checked it for damage. “I’ve always assumed you pace yourself, because of the damn fine job you do organizing my life. But if your workload is too crazy, hire additional help.”
“All our workloads are crazy on tour. And I don’t have time to train anybody.”
Zander sat beside her. “I only have a couple of print interviews scheduled tomorrow and they’re both at the hotel. I can handle those on my own. Do the breakfast with the band and take the rest of the day off.”
“There’s nothing I haven’t seen in Paris.”
“Ten bucks says you’ve never been where Doc is taking you.” It was hard keeping a straight face, but Zander managed it.
“I’m not hanging out with that snitch.” She held her hand out for her organizer. “I’ll relax in my room.”
Zander shook his head. “We both know you’ll work, given the opportunity. Which is why I’m confiscating this for twenty-four hours and you’re getting a minder. Meet Elizabeth in the lobby at eleven.” He pointed to the door. “And don’t come back until you’ve had fun.”
“Fun,” Dimity repeated blankly, “right.” She paused at the door, her expression sly. “I have to say, Zee, I’m a little surprised you’re following Elizabeth’s orders like this.”
“Nice try.” He gave her a gentle push and closed the door. Though his PA had a point.
When Elizabeth insisted he intervene, Zander had wondered aloud why he’d ever wanted to kiss such a bossy woman. She’d laughed. His biographer had become downright complacent since he’d backed off.
Opening a drawer, he dropped Dimity’s organizer into it and went to the bathroom to prepare for bed, still thinking about Elizabeth.
Their kiss had been…surprising.
Given the playfulness of their relationship, Zander hadn’t expected such intensity. A one-night stand wouldn’t be enough, they were heading for a burn-up-the-sheets affair. Neither of them had time for romance on tour, but he had every intention of following through when this leg was over. You’d think a smart woman like Doc would have figured that out.
But that laugh today… Brushing his teeth, he frowned at himself in the bathroom mirror. It piqued his rock-star ego that Elizabeth could be so damn happy he’d dialed down his pursuit when millions of women across the globe aspired to have sex with him.
Was that why he wanted her so badly? He was fully capable of being that shallow, which was why Zander was approaching this—he grimaced over a mouthful of toothpaste—sensibly.
He liked his biographer—a lot—and he valued her work. And after the pain he’d caused Stormy, he was nervous. Clean living had woken him up to his lack of relationship skills.
He sighed and then, because no one else was here to do it, he blew the handsome sonofabitch in the mirror a kiss before switching off the bathroom light.