Musician's Monsoon (9 page)

Tingles fizzled throughout her body at being called
his girl
, and she turned to look at herself. She sighed in relief at the more familiar reflection. She wiped off the lipstick but decided the eyeliner could stay, and she messed her hair up a little bit more. That was better. Rocker Sophie. Slightly edgy Sophie. But still Sophie. Some normalcy seeped back into her, more of her methodical mind and less of the crazed, panic-attack-waiting-to-happen side.

She turned back to Zane, who was smiling softly at her. He was all confident poise and beauty. All raw talent and bad-boy rock star. But he had such a gentle, kind heart. She could understand how the rock-star life had taken over to the point where he hadn’t been able to create anymore. In only a matter of a few short moments, she felt like she had been robbed of her identity by a bad choice of clothing. How much worse must it be to have all the pressures of stardom slowly creep in and suffocate all the parts of the life that you had originally fallen in love with? No wonder Zane had started to feel so out of control. He had lost touch with himself, with the whole reason he loved to do what he did.

She sighed and slipped her arms around his waist. He held her tight and she closed her eyes, resting her cheek on his chest and listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’ll do fine, Sophie,” he murmured.

She looked up at him and shook her head. “I’m not worried about that. I’ll muddle through somehow.”

A small frown creased his brow. “Then what is it?”

She slid her palms up his chest and across his shoulders, smoothing the fabric of his shirt and studying the texture of his muscles. “Zane, what was it that originally made you love music so much? What made you want to do this so badly?”

“It’s always been in me, the sounds and the notes, even before I knew what they were. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it wasn’t there… It’s who I am. Without it, I would be lost. I
was
lost.”

She smiled softly. “Then maybe you need to take off the black miniskirt and the red lipstick too.” She giggled at his expression. “Get back to your roots, like you said. Put on a pair of blue jeans and a band shirt, metaphorically speaking.”

He stared at her for several seconds with a look of contemplation on his face before a soft smile curved his lips. “Find myself and just forget all the rest.”

She nodded and studied his wonderful face. She’d never in her wildest dreams imagined she’d be here right now, with him, about to do what she was about to do. She still kept expecting to roll over and wake up.

She couldn’t quite describe the look he gave her. But it was full of sincere warmth, gentleness, and something smoldering that made her heart flop around in her chest. He took her hand and raised it to press a tender kiss to the inside of her wrist. He continued up her arm until he got to her elbow. Then he placed it around his neck and aligned his body with hers. Something passed between them. Something more intense and more intimate than anything they had shared thus far.

Sophie lost herself in his eyes and raised her lips to meet his. His kiss was soft and slow, and when his tongue delved in her mouth to deepen it, she felt her knees grow weak, as cliché as that was. She surrendered to the kiss, handing herself over to him, allowing him to do what he would. Never in her life had anyone kissed her the way Zane did, and she knew it was going to ruin her for any other man. That was only one of the many dilemmas she had discovered since meeting him.

He kissed her like she was the only woman who had ever existed in the world, or at least in his world. It was one of her weaknesses when it came to Zane. He didn’t make her feel like a groupie, or like one of the many. He made her feel special, like he cherished her just for being who she was. He was the only person who had ever made her feel that way.

She didn’t know if it was hero worship or what. All she knew was that she liked it. It was nice to feel like something extraordinary for a change, instead of just like “Sophie.”

He reached up to tangle his fingers in her hair, monopolizing her mouth, claiming her in a way that made her dizzy. Zane was the type of person who went after what he wanted, and it sure seemed like he wanted a lot of her lately.

He backed her up against the makeup counter, then reached down to take hold of her hips, never breaking contact with her mouth. He lifted her so that she was sitting on the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist. A small groan escaped Sophie before she could sensor it, and she felt him smile against her lips.

She pulled him close, and he trailed hot kisses along her jaw and neck before returning to her mouth. He tugged on her hair enough to make her suck her breath in, and his chuckle was low, wicked and wonderful.

“Guys, we go on in ten…oh, my bad.”

Rhonda’s voice yanked them from their passion-induced personal moment, and Zane expelled a slow breath, resting his forehead against Sophie’s. Sophie gave a soft, breathy laugh and played with the ends of his hair for a second, trying to get her heartbeat under control. When she had succeeded, she met his gaze, smiled and touched his face tenderly. She loved the hard line of his jaw, his straight nose, full lips and searing green eyes. She loved the feel of his skin against hers, and she particularly loved the way he touched her—assertive, yet gentle, and every caress left her aching for more of him. Not just out of lust, but because every time he showed her a little more of his heart, it blinded her with its radiant light. He was more than a performer, more even than a musician. He was addictive.

She sighed softly. “What do you say, music man? Wanna go put on a show?”

His grin dazzled her and he nodded, then kissed her one more time. He moved back enough for her to be able to get down off the counter, and she glanced at Rhonda, who was pretending to be invisible, she imagined.

When Rhonda felt it was safe to look at them again, she frowned, and her expression reflected disappointment. “Oh, you changed. You didn’t like my outfit?”

“There’s only one front woman in this band,” Zane said before Sophie could formulate a response. “Why would you want to upstage yourself, beautiful? You’re the only one who should be commanding such attention.” He kissed her chastely on the forehead, and Rhonda smiled up at him in adoration.

Sophie smothered her grin and followed Zane and Rhonda out the door. Her stomach did somersaults in anticipation of what she was about to do. Oh well—now or never.

Sophie Gilkins—teacher, musician…rock star. Why not?

Here went nothing.

As he took his place at his keyboard and waited while their intro music played, Zane wondered if he was actually more nervous than Sophie. She was a no-nonsense, get-the-job-done type of person. His stomach felt like it had decided to buy out real estate in his windpipe. He hadn’t had jitters this bad since the first time he’d performed in front of an audience.

He knew she would do fine. She’d played wonderfully at sound check, and he wasn’t worried about the band. Even if she sucked in the stage presence department, the rest of the members could compensate.

It made him analyze his nerves a little more, look at the situation a little closer, and as he did, he realized it wasn’t adrenaline from fear he was feeling. It was excitement. He wasn’t afraid that Sophie wasn’t going to do a good job. He was excited because he got to share his world with her, his life. They were going to perform together, perform songs
he
had composed. It was a sharing of his heart, and it seemed so intimate to him.

As the lights came up and the opening guitar riff of their first song played, Zane’s heart lurched for one suffocating second before the rest of the band launched into it. The crowd screamed, and Zane glanced over at Sophie. She was situated on the far side of the stage, and he could tell she was playing because he could hear the bass line. Other than that, she may as well have been a statue. He could barely see her fingers moving.

He smiled to himself, and his heart went out to her for a moment. This had to be the last thing she really wanted to be doing. She was a teacher, not a performer. She was only doing this to help him out of a jam. He felt badly for forcing her into it. At least she was playing correctly, and she was no longer in that freakish outfit. No doubt that wouldn’t have helped her feel comfortable.

Tearing his gaze away from Sophie and doing his best not to think about that kiss they had shared in the dressing room, Zane turned his attention back to his keyboards and lost himself in his music and in his nightly routine.

* * * *

What am I doing here? Oh, right. Attempting not to crap my pants.

Sophie tried to block out the sound of the crowd while she concentrated on where her fingers were going.

Just play the bass… Play the bass. Half a song down. A hundred thousand more to go.

That’s about how it felt. It was like time had slowed down. Either that or she had somehow managed to cross into another dimension and was living in both of them simultaneously. Because she felt like she was outside of her body watching what was going on.

And holy cow, did she ever suck.

The music was all right. She wasn’t having trouble with that. But she felt like a cigar-store Indian, and she knew she had about as much personality as one. Something needed to be done about this. She couldn’t play the entire show this way. Not only would people start to wonder if she was actually capable of movement, but she’d be walking like the Tin Man afterward because all her joints would have locked up.

After the first song was over, Rhonda greeted the audience with enthusiasm and was met with roaring screams and applause in response. Sophie forced herself to stand up straight, to shift positions a bit. Her back was already angry at her. She glanced over at Zane, who was looking back at her as if to ask her the silent question,
Are you going to die?
That’s probably what she looked like. Eyes bulging like the deer about to bounce up and over somebody’s Ford Taurus. And yes, the vision really was
that
detailed that she knew what kind of car it was.

She glanced at all of the other band members. With the exception of Rhonda, who was still talking to the audience, they were all looking at her with the same expression. Like they feared she was going to bolt and they were all going to have to make a mad dash to block the exit doors.

She took a small peek at the crowd, and her stomach dropped down to the South Pole. Her heart started to beat way too fast, and her head spun in a dizzying manner that made her feel somewhat nauseous.
Get a grip, Sophie. This is not the first time you have ever been on stage.

No,
she argued with herself.
But this is the first time you’ve ever played the bass guitar as a stand-in for your favorite band…after making out with the keyboard player, AKA your idol!

Her stomach plummeted again and she looked around somewhat wildly until her gaze met and held Matt’s. He raised an eyebrow in question, and she yanked the guitar off as she all but ran off the side of the stage to the wings.

Matt followed, looking somewhat panicked. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”

“I need something strong, ASAP.”

He frowned. “Something strong?”

“Yeah! Whiskey! Vodka! Friggin’ Wild Turkey! I don’t care what it is! You’re a rock star. I know you guys have to have something handy!” The drum tech handed her a bottle of Southern Comfort and muttered something about how Wild Turkey was whiskey. She ignored him, sighed in relief and unscrewed the top. “Thank goodness. Now I know why you people all drink so much.” She chugged back about a shot’s worth and the fiery, much-too-sweet liquid burned a path down her asphyxiating throat and into her gyrating stomach.

Matt chuckled. “Liquid courage at its finest.”

She downed one more slug and made a face, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I don’t need courage. I need a psychiatrist. This is insane.” She handed the bottle back to the drum tech and expelled a forceful breath.

“Better? Do you need me to get Zane?”

Why did everyone keep asking her that? “No, I do not need you to get Zane. I am a grown woman. I don’t need a daddy or a bodyguard. I just needed a couple shots of something to kill the dancing gnome in my stomach.” She squared her shoulders. “All right.” She slipped the bass back on and faced the stage.

“You good?” he queried.

She gave a curt nod and tromped back out, determined to see the job through.