IntheMood (8 page)

He finished the kiss but kept his arms banded around her.
“So what do you say? You’ll give it a try?”

“Sure.” After all, she’d done the studio and she played at
Claud’s from time to time. She’d be fine. And he was right—everybody was
afraid. She’d let this fear control her life far too long.

Now she’d confessed her stage fright V felt a million times
better. Of course she could do this, and of course she wasn’t alone. He was
right.

* * * * *

Less than a week later, V found herself traveling to New
York in the kind of comfort that made her wish the flight was a longer one.
Truly the first time in her life she’d ever felt that way. They traveled on a
commercial flight, and the press was waiting in force at the airport.

They’d discussed it and decided she would go with the band
and Matt would travel to the hotel separately. Nobody was ashamed of anyone,
but Matt said he didn’t want to divert the news from the album to his
participation in it. Once the new lineup had been established, then he’d
consider not doing a Cynthia Lennon. For years John Lennon’s wife had crept out
of back entrances of hotels, left the plane when nobody was watching because
the Beatles’ management had considered her a liability to the band’s image.

It didn’t help much. Although the band’s manager, Chick
Fontaine, had announced no press conference, they still shouted questions.

What seemed to be a million flashing lights and two million
jabbering, yelling voices met them off the plane. She followed the band, just
before the girlfriends and family, trying to blur the connection, but it didn’t
help either. They entered the main building and lights went off in her face.

“We’ve heard rumors about you and Maxx Syccorraxx. Is he
rejoining the band?”

“Are you joining Murder City Ravens, V?”

“Is it really you on the sax?” That one she chose to answer.

While the band lingered, answering questions they’d
carefully selected, the manager, a huge giant of a man, hovered by her side,
clearly keeping an ear on what she said.

She gave the questioner a sweet smile and held it. She might
not have experienced this kind of frenzy for herself before, but she’d seen it.
Claud knew a lot of people in the music world and some had their share of fame.
Though the media hadn’t had to be held back by a combination of a rope barrier
and beefy security guards, as if any minute they’d burst through and mob them.
“Yes,” she said.

“Yes, you play the sax?”

“Come to the concerts. You can see then.” She didn’t raise
her voice or try to compete with the cacophony. They’d pick it up.

“Are you sleeping with Maxx Syccorraxx?”

She tilted her head to one side. “Who’s that?”

Raucous laughter followed. “He’s calling himself something
else these days. Matt Sinclair.”

“Why is that important?”

“She is!” the man crowed. “Is he good in bed? Can he still
get it up?”

“Not very subtle,” she murmured, this time deliberately
keeping her voice low. “You want to get me annoyed? Get some pictures?” She
struck a pose, foot slightly forward, head tilted on one side, three-quarter
profile. Then she moved on. They’d get the kind of pictures she wanted them to
have—not the other kind, the candid shot.

After this carefully controlled short length of hallway,
they passed into relative privacy. The band grinned and slapped each other on
the back, and Jace waited for her. “I want to hug you. I won’t because of the
power of the telescopic lens, but you handled that crowd out there real well.”
He laughed. “The album’s out in a couple of weeks, and that’s when it all
starts for real.”

They passed through to a private lounge and silence fell
when the doors closed.

“This is a kind of test, to see if you like us and we like
you.” Jace paused, glanced around and she saw them give nods. “We’re thinking
of asking you to come in and work with us. You did real well in the studio and
you handled that TV performance well.” His casual tone didn’t deceive her.

Shock hit her between the eyes and she blinked. “You’re
serious
?”

“Yeah. It’s about time the sax made a comeback.”

She couldn’t resist. “As far as I’m concerned, it never went
away.”

He grinned. “Think about it. We liked what you did to the
album, the extra tracks. You didn’t add too much, but just enough, and you left
some tracks alone.”

“They were perfect as they are,” she said. “I only played
with the others because you let me, but they’re amazing. You’ll set the world
on fire with this album. It’d be cheating to come in so late.”

“Not if you work with us on the next one,” Hunter said. It
was the most she’d heard the drummer say at one time. It shocked her into
silence.

“You all feel that way?”

“We wouldn’t be talking to you now if we didn’t,” Zazz said.
“You’re the missing link, the final ingredient.”

For the first time, Chick, standing by the door with his
arms folded over his chest, joined the conversation. “As long as the
paperwork’s in place. You have an agent?”

“My pop.”

Chick raised a bushy brow. “I hate to say it, but is that
wise?” He paused. “Wait. Didn’t your father do all his own negotiating?” V
nodded. “I take it back. I’ll watch my fingers when I do business with him.”

Jace nudged her. “He’s as straight as a manager gets in this
business. Your father and Chick will get on extremely well. Too well,
probably.”

She hoped so. They’d already discussed her payment for the
single. Taken each other’s measure, like two Western gunmen facing off for a
real fight. No, more like two seasoned Mississippi gamblers sizing each other
up, settling in to raise the stakes.

She’d leave them to it.

Chick moved farther into the room. “Tell us in a week so we
can make the arrangements. Talk it over, hey?”

He meant with Matt.

And then the second implication hit her, hard as a rock
between her eyes. She had to fight to keep from reeling back.

She’d have to leave Matt. The tour would take the band
around the world and it would take the best part of a year. Murder City Ravens
wanted to hit the world hard with this album, she knew that from discussions in
the studio and it meant a lot to them. She knew why too. The music deserved to
be heard.

Still staggering mentally from her revelation, she got into
the limo and traveled with the rest of the band to the hotel. One of the swanky
ones overlooking Central Park. They went straight in the back way, along a long
hallway that had steel cleaning trolleys lined up on one side and through to a
service elevator.

If she joined the band, even as an extra musician and not a
full member, she could expect to live like this for the best part of a year.
Without Matt, because he couldn’t come with her. He couldn’t abandon his
studio, and she wouldn’t let him.

An experience like this would get her over the stage fright
for sure and certain. She’d never have that hanging over her head again. Her
terror had held her back, stopped her from pursuing what she wanted—a career in
music. She knew that now. She’d always known it, but she’d given herself so
many excuses, she hardly needed to think of them anymore.

Up in the elevator, to a high floor. Matt was waiting for
her there. He’d taken a few days out of his schedule, left AZ in charge, but he
couldn’t do that forever and have his business flourish. He had to be onsite.
And she would be traveling worldwide.

But she wanted it, oh, how she wanted it!

In the bedroom assigned to her, she walked straight into
Matt’s arms. She needed this respite. Then she was on him, dragging his T-shirt
over his head, despite his laughing protests. She wasn’t interested in talk or
reason. It was driving her mad. All these decisions to make, and all dependent
on her. Had the band talked to Matt about this?

In any case, they might decide they didn’t want her. The
band made decisions democratically, and they allowed nobody else in to their
meetings, not even Chick, until they’d come to a decision. After these
concerts, they might not want her, might think she didn’t fit in. She wasn’t
stupid. Her looks, her sex and her saxophone made it almost inevitable that
attention would come her way.

So she grabbed the one sure thing in her life right now.
Great sex with Matt, and he seemed only too eager to comply.

Quickly getting over his initial shock when she threw
herself at him, Matt propelled her back toward the huge bed. He tumbled her
onto the soft, white duvet. Her hands spread over his chest in the way he’d
come to expect—no, to anticipate—with eagerness. He moaned, moved into her
hands and gave her possession. He sensed that she wanted control and loved it.
His woman never allowed anyone to control the way she ran her life or how other
people viewed her. Fiercely independent and every sexy inch worth fighting for.

He let her roll him over so she lay on top of him, and tried
to control his grin with only moderate success.

She pushed her hair back and glared at him. “What?”

He let his gaze travel down the shining strand she’d failed
to notice and back up to her face again. “You have too many clothes on.”

Impatiently, she tore off her top and unhooked her bra,
letting her breasts fall into his hands. So soft, silky, beautiful, with that
firm bead of flesh that he could take between his thumb and fingers—just like
that—and make her gasp. Like a switch.

He loved to make her gasp and sigh, and he loved the warm
silk of her skin. “More,” he demanded.

“Not yet.”

“Yet.”

She glared at him and then gave him a slow blink of arousal
before groaning and giving in. She climbed off him just long enough to drag her
jeans and underwear down her legs. Sometimes he enjoyed playing with her
through her underwear, feeling the slow soak of her juices as she became more
and more aroused, but not today. Now he wanted to feel her skin unencumbered,
with nothing between their bodies.

But when he unzipped his own jeans and lifted his ass off
the bed to kick off his clothing, she put her hands on his thighs to stop him.
“Let me do it,” she said.

“With all the pleasure in the world.” Although he imagined
there’d be more pleasure later. But for now, skin to skin sounded good.

Instead of taking her time, easing his pants down his legs,
she tugged impatiently at them. After she’d disposed of them and his socks, she
returned for his underwear. Then she sat back on her heels and looked at him
and his erection, pointing up, responding to her attention. Wetness seeped from
the tip. He stared at her, then brought his hand to his dick and smeared that
liquid right down the shaft.

With a growl of appreciation, she was on him, shoving his
hand out of the way before she took him into her mouth. He arched up, pushed
into her mouth, taking care not to choke her and groaned her name. “V, you set
me on fire. Jesus!”

After one long draw, she released him, the slight pop
reverberating around his head. Both of his heads. She stood, mounted him and grasped
his cock with a firm hand, pumping a couple of times. Her free hand went
between her legs, smoothing her sweet arousal over her pussy. He wanted it,
wanted to taste the spice of her on his tongue. Wanted to own it all. But for
now, she was in charge.

He watched and knew she could see his hunger for her. Why
should he hide it? He wanted her so badly and she deserved to know just how
much. So he told her as well.

“I have never seen a sight so gorgeous as you making sure
you’re ready for me.”

Her grin broadened and she tilted her head to one side,
teasing him by leaning back a little. Her hair fell over one shoulder and he
thought about using it to pull her closer, but this was her game.

“I think I can take you now.”

Then she proved it, guiding his cock to her pussy with an
unerring hand. She pushed it past the first ring of resistance and then sank on
him, down and down until their pubic hair meshed.

He reached down and ruffled the strip of blonde hair. “Never
get rid of all of it, will you?” Then he gasped because she swiveled her hips
and rotated her soft, hot body around the head of his cock. He felt it with
every cell in his body and she had him. He was happy to be had. Fucking
delirious.

She worked him and he had to concentrate on getting his hand
on her clit, forcing his attention past the amazing way she made his whole body
respond. He felt alive, as if all his nerves were plugged into the nearest wall
socket.

She wanted fast, and he wanted to make sure she came before
he did. But it was a close call. She powered her body over him, working him
with an expertise he adored.

Panting, she leaned over to rest her weight on her palms,
which she planted on either side of his head, imprisoning him in the finest
trap he’d ever known. He bit his lip and concentrated on not coming, trying
desperately to think of something that would take the edge off.

Ah yes, that would do it. The thought that she’d leave him.
He tortured himself with it sometimes, unsure what he’d do if she decided they
were done. Hang around like her ex? Fuck no. But they had a great thing going
here. They’d be nuts to call a halt, so he’d sure as hell fight for it.

The notion gave him a few minutes. Long enough for him to
pull and tweak her clit, to dip down to feel the point of entry, that lovely
place where his hard shaft pierced her soft beauty. With his other hand he
reached up and threaded his fingers through her shining hair. He let the locks
slide through his senses, weaving a web he was only too glad to enter.

All the while she worked him, hammered against him, taking
him. Her breasts bounced with every stroke, her nipples dark and tight. He saw
her pupils expand, knew she was on the brink and he gritted his teeth, forcing
himself to hold on.