[English] BACKSTAGE PASS (Vượt Qua Qua Khứ)

Backstage Pass
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He squeezed her. “No. You’re perfect.” He kissed her temple again. “Perfect.”

Her breath came out in a gasp and she tried to pul away, but he tugged her closer. “Please don’t make it impossible for me to live up to your expectations, Brian. This is too much. Too soon. I can’t handle it. I feel… trapped. Don’t…”

Brian tilted her head back and gazed into her eyes. He kissed a stray tear from her cheek. “I’m not that guy, Myrna. I accept you for who you are.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“I would like to kil that guy, though. Do you have his address?”

She shook her head. “I have no contact with him. I haven’t seen him in four years.”

He held her quietly for several moments and she reveled in the feel of his strong arms around her. So safe. But stil scary.

He tugged her back by her shoulders and stared down at her. “So I guess what you need most from me is emotional space.”

“Yes.”

“And time.”

“And patience,” she added.

He nodded. “I’l try to give you what you need, but it won’t be easy. I’m pretty into you, Myrna.”

She smiled, staring into his warm brown eyes. “I’m very much into you, Brian.”

“I guess you wouldn’t like me to use the l-word then.”

“Not unless it’s lips.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily.

“Lips is a very good l-word,” he murmured.

“Yeah, so is lust.” She pul ed his shirt off over his head and flicked her tongue over his nipple. “And lick.”

“I’m particularly fond of let’s go.” He took her hand and tugged her toward the bedroom. She laughed, fol owing him. “That’s two words.”

“Semantics.”

Chapter 19

Myrna crawled out of bed, slid into the discarded white sundress she found on the floor, and stumbled toward the bathroom. They’d been driving two days straight to play a show in Florida. The band would play an hour, and then the crew would break down the set and be back on the road by midnight to head up the Eastern seaboard. She honestly didn’t know how these guys maintained their sanity. Al they did was ride on a bus al day and night, constantly moving from city to city with no time to enjoy the places they traveled.

After using the bathroom, she contemplated returning to bed, but decided Brian would wake up and then she’d spend several hours with his slim hips between her thighs. Not that she ever considered that a bad thing, she just had work to do and found herself entirely too distracted to get anything done.

Myrna shoved a stack of papers to the side of the square dining table, sat in the she-didn’t-want-to-know-why-it-was-sticky booth and booted up her computer. Now that she’d designed an appropriate survey, she spent her evenings interviewing groupies. Her project was moving along beyond her wildest expectations and she had a huge backlog of data. While she waited for a shoddy Internet connection, she sorted musical score sheets from pages of beer-stained data, pul ed a sucker stick off one page, and eyed a mysterious brown spot apprehensively. The guys were slobs and had no respect for her personal belongings. She only tolerated the mess because she didn’t feel it was her place to correct them.

She checked her email and answered half a dozen distraught messages from her graduate students. Myrna was working on creating a data spreadsheet when the bus slowed and pul ed to a stop. She craned her neck to peek out the heavily tinted window on the other side of the bus. Another fast food restaurant? Gag!

Jake climbed from the driver’s seat and stretched, his mouth opening in a wide yawn. He started when he noticed Myrna sitting at the table.

“I didn’t know anyone was awake,” he said. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“Coffee would be fantastic.”

“One coffee coming up. Make that two. I’m about to pass out.”

Jake exited the bus, leaving the door open so fresh air could circulate into the cabin. Myrna heard the unmistakable screech of her Thunderbird’s tires next to the bus. The roadies were abusing the hel out of her car and the miles were adding up quickly. As convenient as it was to have a car at their disposal, she was going to have to put it in storage. Driving the extra vehicle disrupted the roadies’ sleep rotation, which she recognized as a safety hazard.

The bedroom door opened and Brian emerged. He blinked his eyes in the early morning sunshine and smiled at Myrna when his gaze focused on her. “There you are. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to bed for over an hour.”

He didn’t even try to conceal his nakedness or his rock hard c**k jutting into the space before him. This was exactly why she hadn’t returned to bed. He never al owed her time to catch up with her work. His diversions were always spectacular so it wasn’t as if she could say no. She didn’t want to say no. Her body was already responding to his on some subconscious, primitive level. She’d expected their mutual delirium to decline now that they were together 24/7, but it intensified with each day. She’d never experienced anything like this. She was hopelessly, madly, deeply in lust.

“I was trying to get some work done,” she said.

“Are you finished now?”

“Uh…” She knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate with images of naked-Brian burned into her retinas. “I can take a little break. Actual y, we need to do something with my car.”

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His eyebrows lifted and he grinned. “Great idea. Your car. I’l go find some pants.”

“Wait, you misunderstood.”

He’d already disappeared back in the bedroom, however.

He emerged a few minutes later in jeans and a T-shirt. Her heart thudded in anticipation. She climbed from the booth and went to find shoes while he used the bathroom. At the exit, they waited for Jake to climb the bus steps with two coffees.

“Oh, Brian, you’re up. Here, you can have my coffee.” Jake tried to hand a cup of coffee to Brian.

“Keep it,” Brian said. “Myrna and I are taking the Thunderbird. We’l meet you in Tampa this evening.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Brian. You get lost in your parents’ backyard.” Jake handed Myrna her coffee. She took a sip of coffee and made a face. Too strong and black.

“My parents’ backyard is huge. But don’t worry, we’l get there.”

Jake shrugged. “I think Dave has the keys. I saw him get on the other bus a minute ago.”

“Thanks, Jake. And dude, you look like ****. Why don’t you wake Sed and have him drive for a while?”

“I’m al right. See you in Tampa.” Jake chugged his coffee and headed for the bathroom at the back of the bus. Brian led Myrna to the car, where she waited, sipping her bitter coffee, while Brian retrieved the keys. Within moments, he climbed in next to her and started the car. “Did I even tel you good morning?”

She shook her head. “You don’t think so wel when al your blood’s in your smal er head.”

“Smal er?”

She laughed. “What I actual y wanted to do with the car, before you jumped to conclusions, was find a place to store it while I’m on tour with the band.”

“So you didn’t want *****ck my c**k while I drive?”

“Wel , yeah, now I do, but that’s not why I mentioned the car in the first place.”

Brian pul ed out of the parking lot, leaving the tour buses behind. “It’s nice to have the car with us. It’s handy for errands and we can get away from the guys for a few minutes. Maybe we can get a trailer and pul it behind the moving van.”

She smiled. “That would work perfectly.” She slid across the bench seat and kissed him on the cheek. “The roadies wil appreciate it, too. They al look like the walking dead.”

“They’l get some rest soon. Just ten more days on the road, then we have a week off. You’re coming out to Los Angeles with us, right?” He took her cup of coffee from her and took a drink. He winced, took another sip, and returned the cup to her hand.

“Los Angeles?” she said. “I don’t think so, Brian. I can get caught up on my work during that time. You’ve got more tour dates after your week off, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Shot down again.” He fashioned his hand into a gun and mimicked shooting himself in the chest.

“Are you pouting because I have to work?”

“I don’t pout.”

Sure looked like pouting to her. “Are you whining because I have to work?”

“No, I’m whining because you’d rather work than spend a week in L.A. with me.” Under his breath, he muttered, “Why do I always sound like the chick in this relationship?”

“Won’t you be working on the new album anyway?”

“So?”

“So, it wil do us both good to have a few days to col ect our thoughts and get some work done. I have the damnedest time concentrating when you’re near. Al this slacking bothers me.”

He took her hand and put it on his crotch. “Does that feel slack to you?”

“No one said you were slacking. You’ve been composing and putting on one awesome show after another.” She loved to watch him when his attention was elsewhere. She could ogle him without making her infatuation blatantly obvious. The length of his black lashes fascinated her. When he blinked, her attention shifted to the harsh line of his wel -sculpted cheekbone covered with a light shadow of beard.

“You’re not slacking,” he said. “You’ve been doing your survey things with the groupies.”

“I have,” she agreed, “but col ecting the data is the tip of the iceberg. I have to analyze the data. Do statistics. Hopeful y, find some interesting trends in the results and write journal articles for publication. This project is real y important to my future and I have a lot of work to do.”

“And I interrupted your work again this morning.”

“I wish I could say it annoyed me that you’re so distracting.” She grinned and squeezed his c**k gently with the hand stil in his lap. His body tensed. “I’d be lying though.”

Myrna placed an open-mouthed kiss under his ear and gently sucked his flesh into her mouth. His growl of approval made her ni**les taut.

She unfastened his pants and found him lacking underwear. His c**k sprang free, and she wrapped her hand around the base.

“Can you drive?” she asked.

“I am driving.”

“With your c**k down my throat?”

He grinned at her. “There’s only one way to find out.”

She kissed the corner of his mouth and lowered her head. She licked the length of him, drawing her tongue over the smooth skin rhythmical y and blowing cool breaths across his flesh to draw delighted shivers from his body. He placed a hand on the back of her head, trying to urge her *****ck him into her mouth. She resisted, wanting to tease him. She squeezed and relaxed her hand at the base of his c**k while she trailed her tongue over his flesh. He grew harder. And harder. Myrna’s own excitement began to get the better of her. A shame to waste something this hard in her mouth.

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There was a loud honk as one of the tour buses pul ed up beside them on the four-lane highway. Myrna sucked Brian into her mouth.

“Ah God,” he cried. He hit the brakes.

Myrna jerked her head away so she didn’t bite him as he swerved off the road. They drew to a shuddering halt on the shoulder, with two wheels on the pavement and two in the grass. He slammed the gearshift up into park and reached for her. “Turns out that no, I can’t drive with my c**k down your throat.”

He slid across the bench seat and pul ed her to straddle his lap. His hand moved under her sundress and pushed the crotch of her panties to one side. He grabbed her hips, shifted her forward, and then fil ed her body with his. His fingers dug into her hips as he encouraged her to ride him. The elastic of her panties cut into her flesh each time she rose and fel , fueling her excitement. Cars flew past them at high speed. She wondered if they could see what she and Brian were doing in the middle of the front seat. It might make someone’s morning commute a little more interesting.

Brian pushed the straps of her sundress from her shoulders and bared her br**sts. He bent his head *****ck and lick her ni**les, pushing her br**sts together as he attempted to get them both in his mouth at once.

“God, you’re hot,” he growled. He sank his teeth into her tender nipple and her body jerked before she shuddered with release. She tightened her vaginal muscles and rose up to excite him with fast, shal ow strokes. His head fel back, his breathing erratic.

“Myrna. Myrna. You’re going to make me come if you keep that up.”

A flash of blue and red lights in the back window caught her attention. “You’d better hurry up about it. We’ve just been spotted by a cop.”

“****!”

He rearranged her top to cover her br**sts and his rapidly softening c**k fel free of her body.

“You could have finished,” she said. “He’l have to run the out-of-state plates before he comes to talk to us.”

“I couldn’t have finished. My bal s are now hiding up in my bel y.”

She laughed and slid off his lap. She rearranged her panties and sat beside him. He slid behind the wheel and fastened his pants.

“It’s not funny,” he said.

“You’re afraid of cops?”

“No, I’m afraid of jail.”

“Ah, poor baby,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I’d bail you out. Hopeful y before Big Bart made you his bitch.”

“How kind,” he said. “And who would bail you out?”

“I’m sure Sed would bail me out for a favor.”

Brian pinned her with an angry glare. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“A little cranky, now, are you? I told you that you can trust me. I have no interest in Sed.”

“You know, that’s exactly what Angie said. And Kristie. And Jenna. And Bethany. And Samantha. And—”

Myrna’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to flaunt their names. I realize you’ve f**ked a lot of girls.”

“What? Are you jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous? This thing between us isn’t serious. We’re just having a good time.”

“Of course.” He slammed his fist into the dashboard.

There was a knock on the window.

“What?” Brian yel ed at the glass. He took a deep breath and rol ed down the window. “Can I help you, officer?”

The car was stil idling, but the trooper said, “Car troubles? Do you need a tow?”

“Everything is fine, sir,” Myrna said.

Brian gripped the steering wheel. “Let me handle this,” he growled at her. He gazed up at the police officer. “Everything is fine, sir.”

The lanky man looked Brian over careful y, his hand resting on the service pistol at his hip. He turned his attention to Myrna, who sat demurely in her innocent-looking, white sundress.

“Are you okay, ma’am? I heard some yel ing and arguing as I approached.”

“I’m fine.” She smiled at him reassuringly.

“And why are you parked on the side of the road?”

Myrna glanced at Brian and grinned wickedly. “My companion was having a hard time driving, so he had to pul over.”

“Have you been drinking, sir?”

“It’s seven o’clock in the morning!”

“Or using?”

“What?” Brian calmed his tone. “No, I haven’t been drinking or using drugs. I was having a hard time concentrating for… other reasons.”

“I see.” The officer didn’t look convinced. “So you pul ed over to switch drivers?”

“Yeah,” Brian said. Myrna didn’t know Brian was capable of blushing until that moment.

“You should do that at a rest area. It isn’t safe to park on the side of the highway.”

“Good point,” Brian said. “Are we free to go?”

“Let me run your license, registration, and proof of insurance first. Make sure everything checks out.”

Brian pul ed his wal et from his back pocket and retrieved his driver’s license. Myrna found the registration and insurance card in the glove box. She handed them to Brian, who offered the paperwork to the trooper.

“California license. Missouri plates.” The officer shook his head and then carried the documents back to his patrol car.

“He thinks I’m a shady character,” Brian said.

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“You do look suspicious with al those skul and demon tattoos.”

“You don’t like my tattoos?”

“I didn’t say that. I just said—”

“I heard what you said. Tattoos are suspicious.”

“No, I said they make you look suspicious.”

“Same difference.”

“It’s not the same. At al .”

“You sure are bitchy this morning,” he muttered.

Myrna’s nostrils flared. “Excuse me. Did you just cal me a bitch?”

“No, I said you were bitchy this morning.”

“Same difference.” Realizing she’d mimicked his words, she chuckled.

He grinned at her. “We should argue more often.”

“Let me guess. It’s turning you on.”

“Yeah, my bal s have come out of hiding and The Beast is ready to rol .”

Her eyebrows rose suggestively. “Can I ride The Beast?”

He put his fingertips against her forehead. “You must be at least this tal to ride The Beast.”

“Looks like I qualify.”

“Secure your belongings and keep your arms and legs around the ride at al times.”

The trooper cleared his throat outside Brian’s window. Brian started and then glanced up at the officer as if they’d been discussing the weather.

“Everything checks out fine,” the cop said. “You have no outstanding warrants, Mr. Sinclair. And the car hasn’t been reported as stolen.”

Brian scowled. “You sound surprised.”

The officer laughed nervously and handed Brian his license and other papers. “Next time, make sure you do this at a rest area.”

“A rest area?” Brian ducked his head to hide his grin. “Okay, next time we’l do it at a rest area.”

Myrna laughed, leaning heavily against the passenger door as she clutched her midsection in hysterics.

“Am I missing something?” The cop scratched his head, a puzzled look on his face.

“Nope.” Brian returned his license to his wal et. “She forgot to take her meds again.”

Myrna slapped at him and wiped tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes. “Thank you for checking on us, sir,” she said to the cop.

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” Brian said.

Myrna burst out laughing again. The two men stared at her as she struggled to contain her hilarity.

“We’d better switch drivers now,” Brian said.

He slid to the center of the seat and Myrna climbed over his lap to settle behind the wheel. She gave his crotch an appreciative squeeze beneath her skirt as they switched places. She waved at the trooper and rol ed up the window before shifting the car out of park and easing back into traffic. Brian slid closer and squeezed her thigh.

“Now,” Brian said, “let’s see how wel you can concentrate on driving with my head under your skirt.”

She grinned at him and took his wayward hand in hers. “Wait until we get to a rest area. I already know I won’t be able to concentrate with any part of you under my skirt.” She squeezed his hand. “Not this.” She lifted her hand to touch his lips. “Or these.”

She cupped his package through his pants. “And definitely not this.”

“What about these?” He pul ed his boot off and wriggled his socked toes at her.

“Hmmmm,” she said, keeping one eye on the road. “I’m not sure about those.”

Chapter 20

Tampa 78 miles. Brian shifted his gaze from the green road sign to his watch. Eleven a.m.

“We’ve got plenty of time before we have to be in Tampa,” he said. “Let’s take a detour.”

Myrna took her eyes off the road long enough to glance at him. “What kind of a detour?”

“I don’t know. The spontaneous kind.”

“I like spontaneous detours. We have to be careful not to get lost, though. No Master Sinclair means no Sinners show.”

“We won’t get lost. At your next opportunity, head west.”

“That won’t take us far. The Gulf of Mexico is west.”

“Exactly.”

She smiled. “West it is.”

Within ten minutes, they were off the main highway and headed west. “It looks like it might rain,” she commented, gazing at the western horizon.

Brian scowled at the bank of black clouds rol ing in from the distance. It figured the weather wouldn’t cooperate on their first real date. He hoped he could manage to keep his hands off her long enough to romance her a little. He had ten days to convince her to stay with him in L.A. In order to get her to comply, he’d need to seduce more than her body.

“Oh wow,” she said. “Look at the water. It’s gorgeous!”

“Not bad,” he said. “California has spectacular beaches.”

She glanced at him sidelong. “I suppose you mean in the Los Angeles area.”

And she was on to him already. “San Diego is better, but yeah, Los Angeles isn’t too shabby.”

“Uh huh. I thought the beaches in California were toxic.”

“Not al of them. Have you ever been to California?”

She hesitated. “Wel , no, but I’m sure I’l get there eventual y.”

Did that mean she was considering joining him? Doubtful.

They entered a smal gulf town. Every sign they passed had some depiction of a clam. Brian’s stomach rumbled. “Do you like seafood?”

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“It’s okay. I’m not a fan of fish, but I love clam chowder.”

“Manhattan or New England?”

“New England. The thicker, the better.”

“Hungry?” he asked, watching little restaurants pass.

“Starved. As per usual.”

“Let’s find a place to eat.”

“Just no fast food. I think I’d rather die than eat another french fry.”

“Park over there.” He pointed to the common lot at the end of the block. “We’l walk until we find a good place.”

“How wil we know?”

“Fol ow the locals.”

“Good plan.”

As soon as she pul ed into the nearest parking spot, Brian climbed from the car and hurried around to her side to open her door. He watched her try to straighten her hair in the rearview mirror with her fingers. He liked to keep it in that “just took a toss in the hay”

style. It suited her. And him.

He opened the door and she looked up at him.

“I look like crap,” she said.

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to lie?”

“I never lie.”

“You just did.” He took her hand and helped her out of the car.

“I have eyes, you know.”

“They must not work very wel . You look gorgeous. You always look gorgeous.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently.

She surprised him by smiling instead of arguing. “Thank you. You’re very good for my ego.” She stared at the ground as she walked beside him. “Even if you are blind.”

“Are you fishing for compliments, Professor Evans?”

She pointed to her face. “Does this face look fishy to you?”

He shrugged. “It is a little scaly.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh real y?”

“No, not real y. I already told you that you were gorgeous. Everyone’s going to wonder why you’re hanging out with a thug like me.”

“I’l tel them I’ve been kidnapped.”

“They’l probably believe it.”

She took his hand. He smiled, his heart warming. She could deny it al she wanted, but he knew she cared. “What that trooper said bothered you, didn’t it?”

Actual y, he hadn’t thought about that trooper since his toes had been used in ways they’d never been used before. He shrugged.

“Eh, I’m used to it.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry to hear that. No one should have to tolerate being discriminated against based on their looks.”

They paused at a street corner and waited for the traffic to thin enough for them to cross. Brian watched the patrons entering the restaurants in the vicinity. A construction crew, several office workers, and three wel -dressed executives entered a smal eatery in the center of the block. It didn’t look fancy, so the food must be good. Pam’s Clams. Myrna wasn’t watching the pedestrian traffic. She was watching him again. He liked it when she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He pretended he didn’t notice, but she stared at him a lot.

“Pam’s Clams?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“Do you want to eat there?” He tugged her into the street and they hurried across.

“Fine with me.”

By the time they were seated, every person in the place had gawked at Brian at least once. It was a smal town, apparently not used to men with chains, tattoos, dyed hair and leather attire. At least he wasn’t wearing his stage makeup. Had he been drunk, he probably would have cussed them out, but Myrna’s calming presence made it al seem unimportant.

“What sounds good?” Brian examined the smal , laminated menu. Beer sounded good to him. Beer and battered fried clams with french fries. Unlike Myrna, he never tired of french fries.

“They have clam chowder in fresh-baked bread bowls.” She looked orgasmic with delight.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah, and a salad. A huge salad. I miss vegetables.”

The waitress appeared. “What can I getcha to drink?”

“Do you have lemonade?” Myrna flipped the menu over to search for their drink selection.

“Yeah.” She scribbled on her order pad. “What for you, dol ?” she asked, pointing the end of her pen at Brian.

“Corona. And we’re ready to order.”

He ordered for the both of them and the waitress col ected their menus before heading to the kitchen.

“We should take detours more often.” Myrna reached across the table and lightly trailed her fingers over the back of his hand. He smiled. “The tour bus does get pretty boring.”

“I wouldn’t know. You never give me the opportunity to get bored.”

“That’s been my plan from the beginning.”

“I’l be in trouble when you final y get tired of me.”

“I think you’re safe for at least a century.” He linked his fingers through hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Are you always this sweet?”

His eyebrow shot up in question. “Sweet? Now there’s something I’ve never been accused of before.”

“Real y? I’m surprised. You’re so considerate and complementary and generous.”

“Actual y, that’s not typical of me. It’s only because I lo—” He caught himself and shifted his gaze to the red-checkered vinyl tablecloth. “I like to see you smile.” He’d almost spoken that forbidden word of hers. Had she noticed? When she didn’t speak for a moment, he forced his gaze upward, expecting her eyes to be watery as she thought of that other man. That bastard he despised. What was his name? Jeremy. Myrna wasn’t teary-eyed though, she was staring at their joined hands reflectively.

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“I do seem to smile a lot when I’m with you,” she said, smiling as usual. “I guess that means you’re charming, too.”

He chuckled. “You forgot virile and ***y.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Are you saying I’m not—”

She glanced up at him. “I meant that I didn’t forget. It’s obvious, you know. Goes without saying.”

“But you could say it.”

“I could.”

Their waitress returned with their drinks and Myrna’s salad. While Brian sipped his beer, he watched her methodical y move the cherry tomatoes and red onions to the edge of her plate.

“I thought you missed vegetables.”

“I don’t like raw tomatoes. And I thought I’d skip the onions so I could make out with the ***iest man alive after lunch without subjecting him to my death breath.”

He grinned at her compliment. He was used to girls stroking his ego, but when Myrna did it, it made him happy. She had such an unusual effect on him. He didn’t try to fight it. He was ready for this and hoped she’d come around soon. He knew he had to keep a rein on expressing these powerful emotions in front of her. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away.

“You want it?” She speared a tomato with her fork and offered it to him.

“If you put some dressing on it.” Can’t have vegetables without dressing.

She dipped the little tomato into her cup of ranch dressing and held it out to him. He chewed slowly, watching her devour her salad.

“So how much data do you think you need to enter into your computer?” he asked.

She glanced up at him, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Why do you ask?”

He was wondering how much of her time her work was going to take. “Just curious.”

“Let’s see. I’ve been doing about twenty interviews a night, each with forty-two questions. And there have been eight concerts, so that’s about 6,500 pieces of data I need to enter. Give or take.”

“That’s a lot!” he sputtered. “You have to enter al that stuff by hand?”

“Wel , yeah. I don’t have an assistant in my back pocket.” She laughed. “It’s not the data entry that’s hard, anyway. It’s the statistical analysis and reporting the results in journal articles that takes so long.”

“You’re going to be real y busy, aren’t you?”

“I tried to explain that to you earlier. You seem to think I don’t want to go to L.A. with you because I don’t want to spend time with you.”

He shrugged. Was he that easy to read?

“I don’t want to go to L.A. with you because I want to spend too much time with you.”

When he tried to respond, she popped another tomato in his mouth.

“So I hope you won’t make it harder on me by getting al pouty.”

He swal owed. “I don’t pout. What if you get done with al your work early? Wil you come with me then?”

“I’l consider it, but don’t get your heart set on it.”

“You don’t want to meet my parents?”

She paled. “Your parents?”

“You realize who my dad is, don’t you? You being a col ector of guitar riffs and al .”

“Uh.” She paused. “I don’t know any other guitarists with the last name Sinclair.”

“He used a stage name. I can’t believe you don’t know this.” He grinned. “I’l give you three guesses.”

Her brow furrowed with concentration. “Is he as good as you are?”

Brian scoffed. “Better. Way better.”

She shook her head. “Now I know you’re making up stories.”

She’d eat those words after she figured it out. Brian had stood in the shadow of a legend his entire career.

“Does he stil play professional y?” she asked.

“The occasional reunion tour, but not real y.”

“Leftie?”

“No.”

“Malcolm O’Neil.”

“So you did know. I wondered how you didn’t know something like that.”

She dropped her fork and stared at him in shock. “Malcolm O’Neil is your father? Oh my God!”

If people weren’t staring at them before, they were now.

He scowled in puzzlement. “You didn’t know.”

“I was joking when I said Malcolm O’Neil. He was the only classic rock guitarist I could think of who was better than you are.” She grabbed his hand. “No offense.” She dropped his hand and pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I mean, I think you’re better than he is, but…”

Brian laughed. “Calm down, Myrna. Is that enough incentive to get you to Los Angeles? Wel , they actual y live in Beverly Hil s.”

“I couldn’t,” she said. “I’d make a total ass of myself.”

“Like now?” He was teasing, but she glanced around the room and flushed in embarrassment. Their waitress delivered their lunches. “Can I get you anything else?”

Myrna clutched her chest. “A defibril ator.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “Are you having a heart attack?”

“She’s joking,” Brian assured her. “Myrna?”

“I’m joking,” she agreed, stil breathless. “I can’t believe you didn’t tel me you were Malcolm O’Neil’s son.”

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“You’re Malcolm O’Neil’s son?” the waitress asked. “Winged Faith’s lead guitarist?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brian said.

“You do sort of look like him, if you had huge sideburns and a chubbier face,” the waitress said. “I saw them at Woodstock. That was right before they made it big. Do you play guitar, too, dol ? You have that rock star look about you.”

“A little,” Brian admitted. He hoped she didn’t make a scene. He’d been enjoying his obscurity, even if he had been the object of curious stares.

“I’d love to stay and talk, but I’m so busy,” the waitress said. “Do you want another beer?”

He glanced at Myrna, who was cautiously slurping steaming chowder from her soupspoon. “Just water.”

When the waitress left, he started eating his fried clams. They were grubbin’. Tender instead of chewy. Fried to a perfect crisp, yet not greasy. Deliciously seasoned. “Try one of these, Myrna.” He placed one on her plate next to her bread bowl. She bit into the fried clam. “That is good.” She scooped some chowder on her spoon and leaned across the table. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Her chowder was good, too. “I know how to pick ’em,” he said, grinning to himself.

“Then how do we always end up eating fast food?”

“It’s fast.”

“Hence, the name.” She stole one of his french fries. “Now, that’s a french fry.”

After lunch, Brian headed for the restroom. On the way back, he cornered their waitress near the kitchen and convinced her to disclose the location of a nice, quiet beach. He left her a nice tip, double the cost of the meal, and escorted his lovely date back to the car.

“I’l drive,” he said, opening the passenger door for her.

Myrna reached up and slid her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. She rose up on tiptoe to claim his mouth in a searing kiss. His heart skipped a beat when her tongue brushed against his lip. She knew how to get his blood boiling, but he had other things in mind for their romantic beach visit.

“Thanks for lunch,” she whispered. “Are we going to Tampa now?”

“Not just yet.”

Chapter 21

Myrna leaned forward to gaze out the windshield. A gorgeous view of the Gulf of Mexico stretched as far as the eye could see. Tal palms punctuated the narrow strip of white sand beyond the grassy dunes. Rough waves sloshed against the shore as the storm clouds in the distance continued to march across the landscape. Brian had driven half an hour into the middle of nowhere, but their venture off the beaten path had been wel worth it. Here, she could imagine they were the only two people on earth.

“How did you know about this place?” Myrna asked.

He smiled. Smugly. “I persuaded our waitress to disclose her secrets.”

She couldn’t explain the pang of jealousy that pierced her chest. “Persuaded? Did it have anything to do with those amazing fingers of yours?”

“Not tel ing.”

She slapped his shoulder and then opened the door. He grabbed her and pul ed her across his lap, wedging her between his body and the steering wheel. “I just asked her where I could find the most romantic beach in the area. She cal ed you a lucky girl and pinched my cheek as if she were my Great Aunt Stel a.”

“I am a lucky girl,” Myrna whispered. She touched his face, staring deeply into his eyes. She expected him to kiss her, but he didn’t. He held her gaze until she had to look away.

“Let’s go watch the waves,” he said.

She nodded and slid from his lap.

They walked hand in hand to the beach. Brian settled on the sand and urged her to sit between his legs in front of him. He tugged her against his chest and rested his cheek against her hair as they gazed out at the water.

“There’s something about the ocean that feels eternal,” he murmured, his breath tickling her ear. “I get disconnected when I don’t see it for a while.”

“I find it soothing,” she said. “Being from the Midwest, I haven’t seen the ocean many times.”

“Then what makes you feel connected to the universe?”

She thought for a moment. “Gazing at the stars at night. You can’t real y see them wel in the city. Whenever I go visit my parents in the summer, I look up at the stars for hours.”

His hands stroked her bare arms. “Can I look up at the stars with you sometime?”

“I would like that.”

“And meet your parents?”

“I wouldn’t like that.”

“Are you ashamed of me?”

She could tel by the tone of his voice that he was teasing, but he wasn’t far from the truth. She wasn’t ashamed of him, but they’d be ashamed of her for dating him. Brian wasn’t what they would consider son-in-law material, or even boyfriend material. But they had adored Jeremy, so they obviously were poor judges of character.

“Of course I’m not ashamed of you,” she said.

And she didn’t want to discuss her parents. She wished he would stop trying to pry into her private life. She kicked off her sandals and wriggled her toes into the warm sand with a contented sigh. She reached for Brian’s left boot.

“Take your boots off.” He helped her tug it free and then the other one. She pul ed his socks off and tucked them into his boots. He drew her close to his chest again and she stroked the tops of his bare feet with her fingertips—tracing the ridges of tendons and toying with the light dusting of hair on the top of his foot.

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“Even your feet are ***y,” she murmured.

“Is that your favorite part of me?” he asked, his low voice so close to her ear goose bumps rose on her nape.

“You should know my favorite part of you.”

“Do you cal it The Beast?”

She grinned. She figured that’s what he’d think. “No, but The Beast made the top ten.”

“Top ten, huh?” He kissed the edge of her ear. A shiver raced down her spine. “Is it my lips?”

She shook her head. “No, but they’re also in the top ten.”

His tongue brushed against the pulse point beneath her ear. “Tongue?”

“Nope. My top ten seems to be awful y crowded.”

He laughed and hugged her. “It’s obviously my hands.” He held them in front of her and flexed his fingers.

“Wrong again. Good guess, though.”

“Okay, I give up,” he said.

She turned her head to look at him. “It’s your brain.”

He covered his surprise with a laugh. “Wel , I can honestly say that was the last thing I thought you’d say.”

“Why? It controls al your other parts. It’s responsible for your amazing talent, both on the guitar and in bed.” He grinned. She’d never figure out why he needed her to compliment him when he had groupies screaming his godliness at the top of their lungs. “It makes you say things that make me laugh and make me think. And it gives you that sweet, romantic streak that I try so hard to resist. Your personality, your talent, heart, soul. What makes you, you. It’s al in that amazing mind of yours. Don’t get me wrong. The body that carries it around is fabulous, too.”

“I think I’m blushing.”

She turned to face him, kneeling between his thighs, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Is that real y al it takes to make you blush?”

She kissed him tenderly. He kissed her in return but didn’t turn up the heat like he usual y did. When she leaned back to look at him, he smiled and said, “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Did you lock the car?”

He sighed. “You’re always so practical, Professor.”

“You mean boring.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” He rol ed his eyes at her and shook his head. He stood and helped her to her feet. While she brushed the sand from her skirt, he scooped his boots and her sandals from the sand and tossed them into the car before locking the doors. When he returned to her side, he claimed her hand and led her toward the angry surf. The cool wind from the approaching storm blew Myrna’s hair against her face and her skirt tangled around her legs.

“Great day for a walk!” she cal ed over the crashing waves. “I think we’re going to get caught in a downpour.”

Brian glanced up at the sky. “We might.”

He kept walking, her hand tucked in his. The wet sand squished between her toes. She curled them under with each step, liking the way it felt. A wave washed across her feet and she danced sideways. “That’s chil y.”

“The water’s real y churning. If you want to go back—”

“A crab!” Myrna bent to snatch a half-dol ar-sized crab out of the sand. She held it up by the edge of its shel to show Brian. The creature’s legs wriggled as it tried to run away in mid-air. “Isn’t he cute?”

He chuckled. “He’s a little smal to make a good meal.”

“I wouldn’t let you eat him.” She turned the crab to look it in its stalked eyes. “Isn’t that right, Pinchy?”

“You named him?”

She careful y placed the little crab back in the sand and nudged it toward the surf. “Run for your life, Pinchy. I’ve seen the way this man eats.”

“Hey!” Brian grabbed her from behind, his fingers digging into her ribs. She laughed and struggled out of his grasp, taking off at a ful sprint along the edge of the water. She could hear Brian’s steps just behind her. She slowed slightly so he could catch her. He col ided with her back and she stumbled. Her arms shot forward to catch her fal , but Brian rescued her from an impending face-plant and scooped her up into his strong arms.

She laughed, slightly breathless, and gazed up at him.

“I almost bit the dust,” she said, “or I guess it would be sand. You rescued me.”

“Does this make me your hero?”

“You were already my hero.”

He grinned and rol ed his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’ve never met a woman who needed saving less than you do.”

“That’s not true. You’ve saved me from loneliness.” She kissed him. “And ***ual frustration.” And she hadn’t heard Jeremy’s accusations in her head for a while now.

He chuckled. “Then you must be my hero, too.”

She kissed him again, her arms stealing around his neck, her fingers intertwining with the long silky hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t get me al worked up,” he murmured against her lips.

“Why not? We’ve got the beach al to ourselves.”

He groaned into her mouth and hugged her closer. She deepened the kiss. He pul ed away. “That’s enough of that.”

He set her to her feet and she wobbled unsteadily. He took her hand and started walking again. She walked beside him silently, pondering his reluctance. This wasn’t like him. Had she done something wrong?

“Have you worked up the courage to ask yet?” he asked, scooping a piece of driftwood from the beach and flinging it into the waves.

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“Huh?”

“Why I’m not rutting around on you in the sand yet?”

“Oh that. I hadn’t noticed.”

“We’re here to get to know each other better. And I don’t mean in the biblical sense of the word. We already know each other that way. I’ve decided no *** until after the show tonight.”

“No ***?”

“That’s right.”

“And why do you get to decide?”

He grinned. “It’s more of a personal chal enge. Do you have any interest in getting to know me at al ? Personal y, I mean.”

“Can’t I just Google you? Isn’t your entire life somewhere online?”

He scowled. “Probably.”

She reached up and smoothed his forehead with her fingers. “Don’t make that face. Tel me how Sinners was formed.”

He glanced at her. “Do you want the real story or the more theatrical, online version?”

“The real story. I can always read the online version later.”

He smiled nostalgical y. “Trey and I were the outcasts of Beverly Hil s.”

“You lived in Beverly Hil s?”

“Yeah, my dad got rich and famous when I was a kid and Trey’s dad is a plastic surgeon, so we lived in the Hil s.”

“No ****? I never would have guessed that in a mil ion years.”

“We didn’t real y fit with the other rich kids and everyone else on the planet hated us because we were rich. So we stuck together. We played guitar. A lot. In eighth grade, we started a failing band—”

“Crysys.”

He chuckled. “I thought you hadn’t Googled me.”

“One of Trey’s groupies mentioned it.”

“Ah. Anyway, we got seriously heckled during a party gig in the tenth grade. By Eric Anderson.”

“Eric Anderson?”

“He’s since changed his last name to Sticks.”

Myrna chuckled. “I always thought it was strange that a drummer had the last name Sticks.”

“Yeah, he’s lame that way and had it legal y changed. Anyway, when he heckled us, Trey got so pissed. I honestly don’t think he’d ever been that pissed before. He dove off the stage and tore into Eric. Trey was always fighting back then, but this was beyond brutal. Blood everywhere. Shattered Eric’s cheekbone. Good thing Trey’s dad is a plastic surgeon.”

“Trey?” She found that hard to believe. He didn’t seem the type to hit someone that hard.

“Yeah, I was always breaking up his fights. I got my ass kicked more than once because of that chip on his shoulder. He’s chil ed a lot in his old age.”

“Yeah, twenty-eight is ancient.” Myrna rol ed her eyes at him.

“It’s a hel of a lot older than sixteen. Anyway, after he and Eric beat each other to a pulp at this chick’s birthday party, Trey said something like, ‘Yeah, wel , if you can do better, why don’t you prove it?’ And Eric did. He’s f**king gifted, you know?”

“He is a great drummer,” Myrna agreed.

“That’s what he plays now, but he can play guitar, too. Bass. Piano. Sax. Violin. Ukulele. ****in’ kazoo. You name it, Eric wails on it.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“And he has a fantastic voice. He sang and played bass for Crysys until Sed found us, and then he switched to drums permanently.”

Myrna’s brow furrowed. “Why did he switch to drums?”

“He’s the best drummer in the business. And… Sed gives him an inferiority complex.”

“Sed gives everyone an inferiority complex. The man has more self-esteem than fifteen supermodels combined. I think he was a monarch in his past life or something.”

“Henry the Eighth, probably.” He made a cutting motion across his throat complete with sound effects. Myrna laughed.

“Sed’s always been confident like that,” Brian said. “He came up to us after a Crysys gig and insisted he was our new singer. Sixteen years old and he knew his place on the planet. He said he’d been looking for a band to front. Told Eric point blank that he didn’t have the star quality or looks to front a band and he should go hide behind the drum kit.”

Myrna flinched. “That was harsh.”

“He was right. We were going nowhere. If it weren’t for Sed, we’d stil be playing birthday parties for spoiled rich girls. He had a plan, knew where he wanted to go, how to get there, and he made it work. For al of us. Sed changed the band’s name to Sinners and we searched for a bassist to replace Eric.”

“Jace.”

“Nope, we had a different bassist before Jace. Jace has only been with us for two years. Our first bassist was Jon Mal ory—Eric’s best friend in high school. Unfortunately, Jon was usual y too high to find the stage. If you could swal ow it, snort it, smoke it or shoot it, he’d do it. We tried to help him get through it. He was in rehab half a dozen times, but he almost brought us al down with him, so we had to let him go. It was hard to kick him out of the band. Just making the decision was hard, but watching Sed tel him… ****. That was brutal. He was like family, you know, especial y to Eric. I feel sorry for Jace at times. He has big shoes to fil and Eric sure doesn’t make it easy for him.”

“Drugs and alcohol mess up so many lives.” She’d probably stil be married to Jeremy if it weren’t for his drinking problem. “So how’d you find Jace?”

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Brian smiled at her. “He came highly recommended by Trey’s older brother.” He winked. “Okay, your turn.”

“My turn?”

“This isn’t a one way conversation.”

“Wait. What do you mean he came highly recommended by Trey’s older brother? Wink. Wink. Were they lovers or something?”

Brian’s shocked expression was quickly replaced by raucous laughter. He stopped walking and wrapped his arms around his bel y as he continued to laugh. She thought he’d fal into the sand and start rol ing back and forth at any moment.

“What is so funny?”

Brian wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “Oh God. I needed that laugh.”

He hugged her to his side, stil chuckling sporadical y.

“I stil don’t understand what’s so funny. Trey is g*y, isn’t he? I mean he doesn’t real y look or act the part, but…”

Brian tugged her by the shoulders to face him and looked down at her. “Gay? No, not real y. Trey is more of an equal opportunity lover. His brother is straighter than an arrow, however. And I think Jace would rather die than be with a man. Just picturing Jace Seymour and Darren Mil s together struck me as hilarious.”

Darren Mills? Why did that name sound familiar to her?

Brian continued, “What I meant was Jace tried out for Dare’s band and they were going to hire him, but their original bassist decided to stay after al . So when Dare found out that we needed a bassist to replace Jon, he sent Jace our way. We were lucky to get him. I mean, he’s good enough to get an au***ion with Exodus End at the tender age of twenty-one. That’s pretty f**king amazing.”

Myrna’s eyes widened. “Exodus End?” That’s where she knew the name Darren Mil s. Or rather, Dare Mil s. Her lead-guitaristsenses tingled at ful throb.

“Please don’t tel me you’ve never heard of Exodus End.”

She grabbed him by both arms and gave him a vigorous shake. “Of course I’ve heard of Exodus End. What planet do you think I’m from? Do you know them? Personal y?”

“Uh, yeah. Trey’s brother is their lead guitarist.”

“No ****? You’re teasing me, aren’t you?” She didn’t know why she’d never connected Trey and Dare Mil s. “Holy Toledo!”

“Holy Toledo?” He laughed at her sudden bout of fan-girlness. “Nope. Not teasing. You know, we’re opening for Exodus End at the end of June in Las Vegas. Maybe you’d like to meet him.”

Her heart rate accelerated. “Oh my God. I’ve died and gone to heaven. He’s the absolute best guitarist on the planet.”

“Hey…”

Brian was pouting again. Myrna patted his cheek affectionately. “I’m sorry, Brian, but he is.”

Brian chuckled. “You could at least pretend I’m the best while in my presence. Especial y since I have your car keys.”

“You know I think you’re awesome.”

“On second thought, I won’t introduce you to him. Not only is he a better guitarist, he’s better looking, tal er, more famous, richer. He’l steal you away from me.”

“Not a chance.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, a contemplative look sliding into place. “Richer, you say?”

“Al right, that does it.”

She squeaked in surprise when he lifted her off the ground and tossed her over his shoulder. He gave her ass a playful swat.

“You, Miss Evans, are being very naughty today.”

“I’m always naughty.”

“True. But today’s naughtiness is poking holes in my fragile ego.”

Myrna laughed and slid her hand down the back of his pants to toy with the smooth skin on his butt.

“None of that.” He pul ed her hand out of his pants.

“Since when is your ego fragile?”

“Since I met you.”

“So is that the attraction?”

“Huh?”

“Wel , I can’t help but wonder why you’re so interested in me when you can get much better looking and younger women who jump at your every command.”

“There are no better looking women than you. Though I admit most of my girlfriends have been younger. Okay, al of them have been younger. I didn’t know what I was missing.”

She slid her hand into the back of his pants again.

“What are you doing?” he asked, pul ing her off his shoulder and setting her back to her feet.

“Convincing you to let me down.” She grinned up at him mischievously. “It worked.”

He shook his head at her. “You never do what I expect you to do.”

“Then maybe that’s the attraction.”

“Is it real y so hard for you to believe that I’ve fal en for you for no reason whatsoever?”

“There has to be a reason.”

“It’s more like there is no reason for me not to fal for you. You’re everything I want.”

“I don’t think I’m cut out to be a rock star’s girlfriend.” It made her heart ache to say it, but it had been weighing on her mind a lot lately. The more she talked to Brian’s groupies, the more jealous she became. She knew he had no real interest in them, but they were so available and she knew she wasn’t there for him emotional y. What if he decided she wasn’t fun anymore? That he needed more than she could give him? Would he toss her aside? And why did that thought bother her so much anyway? It wasn’t as if they were serious.