Love's Road Home (17 page)

He lifted her hand from the cushion, placed a kiss on the palm. Then he laid it on his thigh, gently rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.

"Your voice is amazing. There’s no way you could ruin anything for us."

Signs of doubt still remained on her face, and he wanted badly to make them go away.

Recalling George’s words of warning that the music had to come first, Tom resigned himself to spending little time alone with
Bethany
before Roadhouse’s next performance.

"Listen, the concert is two nights away. There’s plenty of time to rehearse, and we’ll run through the set as many times as it takes for you to feel comfortable. You won’t be singing in front of a full auditorium, but it’s the best we can do."

A small smile appeared, breaking her somber expression. "Thanks."

"No. Thank you." He raised her hand for another brief kiss. "Believe me, the more you practice, the more familiar you become with the songs, the better you’ll feel on stage. You won’t even notice the audience is there because you’ll be so involved with the music. It’s intense."

"Yeah, I’ve watched you perform. Intense is definitely a word I’d use to describe it."

Another stricken look crossed her face. "Oh, my God! What about my clothing? Assuming I can actually do this, what will I wear?"

His eyes wandered over her tense form. "Relax. You and Liz are about the same size. Hannah is, too, for that matter. I’m sure something in the wardrobe will fit you."

"But—"

"And," he pressed on, "if for some reason nothing suits you, maybe the concierge can recommend a local tailor, or—"

"Or nothing," she now interrupted him. "Don’t even think about buying me an outfit. I’ll make sure something fits. And I can do any minor alterations myself. I’ve acquired more than math skills in my life, you know."

A perfect opening for his next comment.

"Yeah.
I found out today that you have quite a few hidden talents."

A pink tide slowly rose over her cheeks, but she remained silent.

"Why is it you neglected to tell me you could sing?
And that you liked doing it?"

She pulled her hand away and curled up in a corner of the sofa, arms wrapped around her knees.

But he refused to be put off.

Tom moved closer, until her sandaled feet were touching his thigh. She looked at him with pursed lips, her displeasure palpable.

Too bad.

He wanted some answers.

"I really thought we were getting close. Extremely close."

Her eyes lowered at that, but quickly she lifted her gaze, and her chin, to face him again.

"So can you tell me why you kept something so important to both of us a secret? Didn’t you think it was something that could bring us even closer?" He held her gaze, willing her to respond.

"Yes! All right? I did think that!"

"And?"

She averted her face, looking toward a mountain landscape hanging on the far wall.

Then it hit him.

She didn’t want to get closer to him.

A terrible ache began in his heart. And, just like that, he knew two things for sure.

He was in love with
Bethany
.

But she obviously wasn’t in love with him.

"Do you still want to have sex with me?" he asked point-blank.

Her head snapped back toward him, eyes narrowed. "What does that have to do with my singing?"

"Just answer the question."

She blew out a harsh breath. "Yes, I want to have sex with you. I’m attracted to you, and I care about you."

She leaned forward to press a warm palm against his cheek. He closed his eyes, welcoming her gentle touch.

"Tom, I didn’t mean to upset you," she said softly. "But I figured it wasn’t information you needed to have since we’d only be seeing each other for a few weeks. How was I to know this situation would come up?"

The ache in his chest intensified.

"So now you know, and I can help the band. What’s the big deal?"

Now he was the one who had to pull away.

He pushed off the sofa and paced to the window. "The big deal is you don’t trust me."

"What? Of course I trust you. Otherwise, I wouldn’t voluntarily be singing in front of thousands of people."

She, too, stood, and he turned to face her.

"This isn’t about the band. It’s about us." Tom crossed to Beth, grateful they stood almost eye-to-eye with each other. He wanted them to be equals in whatever hackneyed relationship this was. He didn’t want to pressure her into anything.

Even though it was killing him.

"I feel like I’ve had to forcefully extract every bit of information I know about you."

"That’s not true! We’ve talked about personal stuff plenty of times."

"Yeah.
Your favorite color, favorite movie—but those aren’t the kinds of things I’m talking about. And the only reason you told me about Eric is because the cops showed up." He took another step closer. "I want to know what’s really affected you in your life. What made you the fascinating woman you are today." Tom carefully brushed a loose tendril of hair from her face. "Is that too much to ask?"

He could see from the confusion in her eyes that it was.

So he backed off a little, both physically and emotionally. He dropped his hand and returned to the more generic topic of music. "Could you at least tell me how you became such a great singer?"

He waited, hoping she’d share this small part of herself.

•

Beth moved back to the sofa and watched as Tom also sat down again. This time he stayed at the opposite end, his face unreadable.

She loved him so much. She’d never meant to hurt him.

But obviously she had, and she needed to make up for it.

She didn’t want their last weeks together to be ruined by her stupid reluctance to open up.

"I never said I hated music. I just hated the lifestyle I had growing up. I wanted a normal life, with a house, and friends, and dinner on the table at six every night."

"Most kids dream of having the vagabond life you had.
Meeting famous musicians, traveling all over the country."

"Yeah, well, the grass is always greener and all that." She slouched down into the cushions and propped her legs on the coffee table.

A flash of heat appeared in Tom’s eyes as they followed the line of her extended limbs, bare below her denim shorts. Nice to see her brash personality hadn’t totally turned him off.

She supposed she could distract him with sex, now that they were finally alone. But he deserved more than that.

And, for that matter, so did she.

If they actually had the chance to make love before she left, she wanted it to last a while. She didn’t want to hurry because friends were waiting to have lunch with them.

"Anyway, when I started college, I’d already thought about trying to graduate early. With accounting being such a grueling, methodical major, I wanted to pick a less intensive minor. Something that was relatively easy."

She shrugged. "Music came easy to me. Even though I resented it as a child, I was surrounded by it and couldn’t help absorbing it. It became second nature."

"Math and music aren’t all that far apart," Tom observed. "You have to grasp the basic concepts of time and measurement to be any kind of musician. Aside from the way you were raised, I can see why someone like yourself would like singing."

She crooked an eyebrow at him.

"You’re a problem-solver. And the arrangement of each song—the rhythm, lyrics, instrumentation—it’s all a puzzle which has to be pieced together just right to work.
To be good."

Beth mulled over what he’d said. "So you attribute my musical abilities to the analytical side of my brain, not the creative side? You think because I’m an accountant, I can’t enjoy music just for itself? I have to love it for its mathematical properties?"

Tom closed his eyes and gripped his short hair until his knuckles turned white. "There’s that problem-solving tendency again," he muttered.
"Has to have a clear-cut answer for everything."

He emitted a deep sigh, lowered his arms, and stared at her.
Hard.

Trapped by his chocolate gaze, she waited for his reply.

"No, I don’t think that at all. I think you’re smart and creative. You’re an intelligent, beautiful, sexy bean counter who can do anything she sets her mind to.
Including driving me crazy!"

He moved fast, surrounding her with muscular arms planted on the sofa’s back and side. "Now stop trying to change the subject."

Despite his stern warning, her lips curved upward. "You think I’m a sexy bean counter?"

His eyes dropped to her mouth. "Yeah," he growled. "I do."

His lips covered hers, and she felt complete for the first time in days.
Long days and even longer, restless nights.

She threaded her fingers through his hair, clasped them around his neck to hold him close.

It had been so long since they’d been able to kiss, let alone anything more. She didn’t want to waste a single minute.

Beth loved how he kissed. He took his time, outlining every bit of her mouth with his own before exploring deeper with his tongue.

She took her time exploring his mouth, too. He tasted faintly of mint.

Delicious.

Cupping his jaw in her hands, she felt the stubble covering his skin. Apparently he hadn’t had time for shaving that morning, but she didn’t mind.

The bristles rubbed against the already sensitized nerve endings of her lips and palms, adding to the feelings of desire coursing through her.

God, she wanted him.

Loved him.

Trusted him.
With her entire being.

And that realization made her pull back.

He groaned, leaned in for another kiss. And she couldn’t resist one more taste of him, either.

She lowered her hands to press them against his chest. Felt his heart beating fast under her palms.

And knew she mustn’t wound that heart any more than she already had.

Beth reluctantly pushed harder against him. Tom
withdrew,
a questioning look on his face.

"I want to finish my story," she explained. "You deserve to hear the rest."

A brief flattening of his lips was the only sign of his indecision, but it was enough to make Beth’s determination waver. Oh, those sexy lips...

"Okay." He reclined against the cushions and pulled her back into his arms. The warmth of his torso burned through their T-shirts, heating her spine. He threaded his fingers through hers and laid them across her abdomen.