Magic's Song (6 page)

Her brain kept obsessing on her thesis which needed work and the papers that needed grading. Being a graduate student meant she also worked as an assistant professor, doubling her academic workload. School didn’t wait while a person made a rock debut.

Her life had become one overbooked schedule that was a pain in the ass to juggle. She sighed as she looked at the time—already three in the morning. “Why am I still here?”

Even Ella had deserted her to dance with Julian.

Tanith loved singing, but more often than not, she wished she had never heard of the Tough Guys. Brent, especially, made the long hours a major disappointment. As much as she pretended he didn’t matter when Darson teased, the guy mattered. The man in her dreams had been obsessed with her. The real life body-double only noticed her when she was, to use his words, making a mockery of his songs.

She looked at him, talking with a fan. He somehow managed to make a person feel special while keeping people at a distance. He also made the rest of the band feel extraordinary. He personified support and praised their accomplishments.

With her, he was entirely different. The first practice had been a prelude of things to come. The man snapped at her over the least little thing.

“What the hell am I doing?” Tanith muttered to herself. She cast a furtive glance to make sure no one watched and then inched toward the door.

An arm shot out of a shadow and blocked her escape. “You were amazing.”

“A compliment?” Tanith tried not to smile at Brent. How had he beat her to the door? “You must be drunk.”

Two seconds earlier, she’d wanted nothing more than to escape the party. Looking into those green peepers, she wanted nothing more than to stay with Brent. Neither seemed likely to happen.

“A smart woman would just say ‘thank you.’”

“A smart woman,” Tanith countered, “would have told you to drop dead weeks ago.”

“No doubt.” To her surprise, he gave her a lazy grin and picked a lock of hair from her shoulder. He twirled it around his finger. “I like your hair like this.”

He did what?

If she didn’t know better, Tanith would swear he was flirting with her. She knew better. More likely, he really was drunk.

She should tell him to “go to hell” and slam the door in his face. In the weeks they had practiced in preparation for tonight’s gig, he’d alternated between demanding, being aloof, and acting downright snide. Brent grudgingly conceded that her singing was okay, but made it clear he had no use for her personally. He’d complained about her hair, her clothes, and even her lack of earrings. Nothing, except her voice, was less than awful.

Still, she wanted to please him. Wanted him period.

Pathetic.

No, she wouldn’t tell him to go to hell. In her defense, she doubted any woman would tell him to get lost, not while looking at his chest, exposed by the open shirt he’d worn onstage. His skin looked like bronzed steel, every muscle strong and sinewy. His hair beckoned for her touch and made her ache to lose her fingers in his dark mane. His eyes, above all else, made her want to tear off her clothes and offer her body as a sacrifice.

Tanith shook her head, trying to break the spell. Dark and brooding were the very qualities she did
not
want in a man.

“Let’s get out of here.” He took her arm before she could protest.

“What? Where are we going?”

Brent didn’t reply. He slid his arm down hers until he grasped her hand in his. He walked, pulling her along with him. His actions were freakishly similar to the man from her dream.

They didn’t stop until they were on the street, then he pushed her against the building and studied her face. Good thing he held her tightly because Tanith’s knees buckled.

He gazed into her eyes for several seconds. “What am I going to do with you?”

“What are you—”

His mouth cut off her words with a hungry kiss. The hunger belonged to a man who hadn’t eaten and she was his filet mignon.

Her brain screamed:
Push him away.
As much as she wanted him, she wouldn’t let him use her like a groupie.

Her body rebelled against her brain. Her lips opened and let him in. His tongue caressed her mouth and evoked too many sensations. His kiss mimicked the one extracted by her dream lover, giving the seduction an eerie sense of dé·jà vu.

Tanith reached for him, wanting him closer. Brent pulled away, seeming to consume her with his demon eyes.

“Dammit.”

“What?” Tanith blurted, not understanding.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

He let go and stepped back. Tanith gripped the brick wall to maintain her balance.

“I don’t get it,” he lamented, more to himself than her. “I’ve done everything possible to keep you at arm’s length. God knows you made it abundantly clear at the auditions that you don’t like me. I don’t want a relationship. Especially now. You’re not even my type, all nerdy and uptight. Worse, you never stand up for yourself. I like women with backbone.”

“Hold on, buster. You can’t talk about me like I’m not here. How dare you say I’m nerdy, you pompous ass.” She most certainly did have a backbone and she thanked providence it hadn’t deserted her. Her spine supported the massive amount of anger that surfaced. “And I’m not uptight so give it a rest, jerk.”

The outburst deflated her. Tanith looked around to make sure the person shouting had really been her. She expected an explosion in return but he merely looked at her, a strange expression on his face. After an awkward moment, his grin disarmed her.

“You’re right. Maybe I do know what I see in you. Maybe I knew Ms. Spitfire hovered underneath all that goody-goody. That’s what scares me the most, you know. All that goodness.”

She felt her eyes widen. She’d expected a lot of things, but not that.

“The problem, my beautiful songbird,” he continued, “is me, not you.”

“God, do you guys really expect any woman to buy that
it’s me, not you
crap?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he touched her cheek tenderly.

“Brent, honey?” Amanda’s voice shrilled through the night air, destroying the mood. “Are you out here?”

Tanith didn’t know what might have happened if Amanda hadn’t beamed down. She felt almost glad to see the witch. The woman’s unwelcome presence inserted some reality into the scene. The man who haunted her dreams, unlike Brent, would never be involved with a bimbo like Amanda.

The clank, clank of Amanda’s spiked boots echoed like screech owls in the night. Brent groaned. The spell he’d cast not only broke, it shattered.

“There you… Oh.” Amanda’s glower speared through Tanith. “You’re still here, Tanith? Marcus said you had to study.” She turned to face Brent. “I don’t know why you had to hire a schoolmarm for our band.”

No way would she put up with Amanda’s crap at three in the morning. “I’m outta here.”

“Hold on, Tanith.” Brent reached for her, grabbing her forearm. He twisted his head toward the bass guitarist. “How many encores did we do tonight, Manda?”

“What?” The wince marred Amanda’s beauty, making her look harsh under the street lamp.

“How many encores did we do tonight?” Brent repeated, dropping his hand.

“Three, four, why?”

“That’s why I hired the schoolmarm, as you so crudely put it. She’s the reason the crowd couldn’t get enough of us. So be nice and thank Tanith.”

His praise washed Tanith in warmth, but did little to dispel her discomfort. This should have been a wonderful night. Instead, she stood trapped in the middle of a lovers’ spat like a fly in their web of deceit.

At least she’d been spared more of Brent’s
it’s me, not you
speech. She felt a sudden urge to giggle.

Instead, she walked around Brent and headed purposely across the street to the sidewalk on the other side. “Night.”

“Wait, Tanith. I’ll walk you.”

No way.
She quickened her pace. “It’s okay,” she yelled over her shoulder. Let the two of them have each other. They were certainly well suited. The real tough guy and his brittle, beautiful bitch.

She muttered to herself as she walked, her fury increasing with every stride. She worked herself into a huff, oblivious to her surroundings.

A hand grasped her shoulder. She screamed. Tanith whirled, ready to fight.

“Whoa, tiger. It’s just me.”

“Damn, Brent. You scared the bejesus out of me. Don’t ever sneak up on me like that.”

“Didn’t you hear me say I’d walk you?”

“I heard you, but I don’t need you to walk me home. You may get to boss me around at practice, but the rest of the time I don’t have to listen to you or your put-downs!”

“Look, I said I was sorry.”

“No, actually, you didn’t.”

“Well, I am sorry.”

“And so you are. Now let me go.” She tried to pull her arm free but he held tight.

“Look at me, Tanith.”

Against her better judgment, she looked. The angry tears forming in her eyes combined with the streetlight and created a crystal outline around his face. He appeared to sparkle.

Just like the man in my dream.

Brent ran his finger over her cheek, wiping away the moisture. “I’ve been an ass, I know. You scare me. Your talent scares me. Knowing this band, now that we have you, might actually make it, scares me. I didn’t mean to be so—”

“Hey, guys!” Amanda interrupted.

Brent dropped his hand.

“Thought I’d join the party.” The redhead sounded out of breath. “That is, if I’m not interrupting.” She smiled coyly.

Tanith grimaced. The woman didn’t have a coy cell in her entire being. “No, it’s okay. Brent can go back with you. I’m almost home.”

Brent, who still had his back to Amanda, scowled. “Dammit, Tanith. I said I’d walk you home. All the way home.”

She scowled back at him. “Since you put it so nicely, no.” Hell no.

The jerk grinned. “Eh, I mean I’d like to walk you home, if that’s okay with you.”

“But, Brent,” Amanda whined. “The fans want you back at the party.”

“They wanted Tanith too.” He kept his back to Amanda. His eyes pleaded.

What was she supposed to do? She was too tired to deal with the two of them.

“Yeah, but Tanith has to study,” Amanda grumbled. “Cut her some slack, will you?”

Tanith’s mouth flew open. The redhead could care less whether she studied or not.

“Well, I’m walking her to her door.” Before, Brent’s voice had sounded calm. Amanda’s appearance had given his tone an edge. “Come if you want.”

The three trudged silently in the night. When they reached Tanith’s apartment building, Brent insisted on climbing all three flights of stairs.

Tanith barely managed to contain her laughter when Amanda caught her boot heel in the stairs and screeched like a banshee. At her door, she held out her hand to Brent. “Good night.”

Brent took her hand, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed the fleshy area at the base of her thumb. “You really were fabulous.”

“Thanks.” She tugged her hand away and darted inside while she could still think.

Chapter Eight

Tanith kept her ear against the door until the sound of Brent and Amanda’s footsteps disappeared into the night. She slumped to the floor and sighed heavily, making the hair around her face rise and fall.

Just her luck. She’d finally found a guy she wanted and naturally, he was taken.

She grabbed the doorknob and pulled herself upright. Too keyed to sleep, she didn’t think studying even ranked as a possibility. Maybe taking a shower would help her relax.

Just thinking about the warm water raining down on her face made her feel better. If only she could wash away her thoughts of Brent as easily.

She finished her shower and her hair was almost dry when she heard a noise above the whirr of the blow dryer. Tanith shut off the appliance and listened.

Ding, ding.

The doorbell? Fear sprang to her chest. She wasn’t afraid because an unexpected visitor stood outside her apartment in the wee hours of the morning. Tanith worried her wish had come true. She feared Brent had returned.

Might as well acknowledge what she hadn’t been able to admit earlier. She hoped he would return. She wanted him, even if only for one night.

A quick look through the peephole confirmed her intuition. Brent.

She opened the door.

“Hi.” His smile looked almost shy. “I…”

When he stopped talking, Tanith followed his gaze.
Crap.

She’d forgotten she wore only her robe. A belt kept the garment tightly cinched, but above her waistline, the collar gaped to reveal a wide expanse of cleavage.

The silence intensified. Tanith pulled the terrycloth together covering her neck. Brent’s eyes returned to her face.

“Can I come in?”

You’ll regret this.
Tanith blocked out the warnings hammering in her head and motioned him inside. She shut the door and turned toward him, her face almost touching his jacket. The scent of old leather intermingled with the aroma of her shampoo was an intoxicating combination.

Brent pulled her to his chest and his lips found hers. Before she could protest, his fingers began to untie the belt to her robe. His kiss deepened, making her oblivious to everything except the glorious friction emanating from his talented lips. All resolutions about not being the groupie of the day flew from her brain. If he wanted a groupie, she’d volunteer.

Tanith whimpered when he pulled his lips away. She blinked, trying to focus. Brent held her steady with one hand while he used the other to open her robe. He stared at her breasts. “You’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than I’d…”

He stopped talking and reached to touch her, moving his fingers slowly as if stroking a fine piece of sculpture he feared might break. His touch barely grazed her nipples, igniting a yearning Tanith doubted she’d ever be able to extinguish.

He gulped, as if the mutual lust surprised him. He dropped to his knees and his tongue flicked over her abdomen.

Cradling his chin with her hands, she forced him to look at her. Gazing into his green eyes, she saw only puzzles behind the desire.

No matter. If only he’d kiss her again and silence her doubts.