Starstruck (10 page)

The slow, sexual, exotic version escaped Jesse’s lips as he
rested them lightly against the microphone. He swayed his hips in time to the
music, beating any striptease. He caressed the mic stand, seducing the crowd with
each subtle movement, and soon Sam wasn’t the only one in the audience fanning
her face. She didn’t need to be psychic to know a lot of women in the room
would be jumping their other halves when they got home. That much was
guaranteed.

At the end of the song she stood, stepped onto the stage and
tugged his sleeve. “Mind if I join in, rock star?”

“Sam, what are you doin’?”

“How’s that sax against the wall?” she asked an equally
stunned, but smiling, Dizzie.

“It’s all yours if you can play, darlin’.”

“It’s been a while, but it’s just like riding a bike,
right?”

The heat of several pairs of eyes bored into her bare back
when she strolled to the rear of the stage. She placed the thin leather strap
around her neck, positioned the reed between her lips and blew scales to limber
up her mouth and fingers. It had really been a long time since she’d played.
When she faced the audience, all the men in the band seemed highly amused and
Jesse glared at the lot of them.

Dizzie laughed. “We may be old, but we ain’t dead, kid.”

Sam didn’t know what had possessed her to jump out of her
seat and rush toward the stage, but she couldn’t help herself. It was as if
she’d been watching some kids in the playground having fun without her.
Naturally, she’d want to join in.

“So, Jersey boy, ever heard of John Cafferty & the
Beaver Brown Band?” She licked her lips in preparation to play.

The band smiled in unison, already guessing which track she
was gearing toward, nodding their approval.

Jesse cocked an eyebrow. “
Tender Years
?”

“Bingo.” With a huge smile, she counted the band in over her
shoulder.

She played the sultry melodic intro. At that moment, it was
the only song she could remember how to play.

She forgot herself when she played—music was in her blood,
after all. She forgot about the rapidly growing crowd. And as she played her
first note, the tension she’d held in her neck and shoulders since she’d
stepped out of the elevator completely dissipated.

* * * * *

Jesse openly gaped as she belted out the sax solo,
introducing the song as if she’d been doing it forever. She was comfortable
onstage, oblivious of the audience. He scanned the crowd and they seemed
mesmerized by this gorgeous siren as she swayed like a gentle breeze, lost in
the music.

The band followed her and Jesse almost missed his queue,
stumbling on the first line. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

At the end of the song, the whole room remained silent as
those final few bars played on the piano. When Sam finally opened her eyes, the
whistles and applause from the crowd seemed to snap her out of a spell. She
jumped a little as if she was genuinely surprised to find so many people
standing in front of her.

Jesse gazed at her with pride. He couldn’t believe what he’d
just witnessed. The woman had instantly tripled her points on the eligibility
scale for potential life partners.

And she hasn’t played in a while? Jesus!

She blushed profusely and averted her eyes from the sea of
eager faces. The audience had grown significantly since she’d gotten up onstage
and he was more than happy to give her the spotlight.

He thanked the band as Sam slid the sax off her neck and
replaced it on the stand.

The drummer behind the kit touched her arm as she stood.
“Honey, you can play my brass anytime. That was perfection.”

The band didn’t skip a beat, going straight into Dizzie’s
old hit
Down the Road to Sunshine
as he tipped his hat in Sam’s
direction with a grateful smile.

They walked back to their table and listened to most of
Dizzie’s song, but after a bit Jesse couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted her
alone. He was thankful no one tried to stop and talk to him on their way to the
dining room.

* * * * *

The stranger sat alone in the dark corner of the bar,
sipping a beer. He’d gotten all he needed. The phony pen that concealed a tiny
camera was the best investment he’d made since becoming a celebrity
photographer—he didn’t like the term “paparazzi”. When the other photographers
who’d gotten the same lead were thrown out of the swanky bar, he couldn’t
believe his luck. The manager didn’t even bat an eye at him, left him in peace
to enjoy his drink.

He was going to hit the big time with the shots he’d gotten.
He’d caught them locking lips, Jesse kissing her hand and several shots of them
laughing and touching. The icing on the cake, though, was the video footage
he’d recorded on his phone of Jesse doing an impromptu sing-a-long with the
band
and
a duet with the woman. Those shots were gold.

Who is she?

Such private spontaneous shots of Jesse Maurello were rare.
It was well-known within the business. Only a couple of years into the music
scene, he had made an arrangement with a majority of the paparazzi. He would
let them take as many photos of him as they wanted as long as he retained
control and his private life wasn’t captured. In return, Jesse gave them as
many sound bites as they wanted, and most of the photographers respected him so
much they abided his wishes.

But
he
hadn’t made any such agreement. He didn’t give
a shit. He wanted to be a millionaire and Jesse Maurello would lead him straight
to victory.

* * * * *

The private dining room was intimate. Even the antique oval
dining table that could easily sit twelve was simply set for two. The wallpaper
was deep red with a hint of stripes and the windows were draped in heavy gold
fabric. A red couch with overstuffed, matching cushions sat against one wall,
and on either side were antique tables and plum-shaded lamps. The place
settings were exquisite, with apricot roses as the centerpiece surrounded by
tall cream candles. But Sam was drawn to the abstract paintings on the walls.
She didn’t recognize the artist but thought they were very good.

Left alone, Jesse leaned across the table and claimed her
lips, hungry and demanding with his tongue. When he pulled away, she moved in
slow motion, eyes shut, lips parted, her head slightly tilted to the left. Upon
opening her eyes, she was met with the brightest smile.

“Where did
that
come from?” he asked
enthusiastically. “You were
fantastic
! Nearly blew me right off the damn
stage. What else you got hidin’ underneath that dress?”

“Not much, stockings…a garter.”

“Really? Maybe I’d better check. You know, just to make
sure.” He smirked and reached underneath the table, sliding his hand up the
slit of her dress. He got as far as the top of her silk nylons when she stopped
his hand from venturing any farther.

“Not here. That’s a little
too
rock star for me.” She
removed his hand from her thigh and placed it back on the table.

He sighed and his bottom lip jutted in a sexy pout, but she
doubted he was seriously hurt by her rebuttal.

“But, baby, you can do what you want with me when we get
back to your room.”

The lustful shine returned to his eyes. “Hmmm…whatever I
want?”

She nodded.

“Guess I’ll just have to wait then, huh?”

A line of waiters brought a feast on silver platters and
placed them on the table. The restaurant specialized in Middle Eastern cuisine
and she and Jesse had been given a little of everything to sample.

“Eat up,” he said. “You’re gonna need your strength. I’ve
got plans for you.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She was starving and
wanted to soak up the alcohol from earlier. She didn’t want to miss anything
and needed a clear head. This could very well be their last night together.

“So you still haven’t explained yourself. Where did you
learn to play like that?” He licked his fingers clean.

“In my bedroom, mainly.”

“You’re kiddin’, right?”

“No, what’s wrong with that?”

“How many years have you played sax?”

“Um…let’s see. I think I was fifteen, so sixteen years. But
I haven’t really picked one up in a long time. Like all kids, I went through
phases. I remember spending the weekend with my cousin Caitlin and we stayed up
all night watching movies. I fell in love with Rob Lowe when he played the
saxophone in
St. Elmo’s Fire
.” She smiled. “And the soundtrack from
Eddie
and the Cruisers
blew me away the first time I heard it so I asked Mum and
Dad to get me a sax for my birthday.”

“Did you always get what you asked for?” he asked with a
lopsided grin.

“Only if it was a musical instrument. I had access to a lot
of them growing up. It was only natural, I suppose. I’d get curious and just
pick them up. My parents always encouraged it too, which was good. They didn’t
care how much noise I made as long as I was having fun and learning something.
Do you play anything else besides guitar?”

“I dabble on the piano a little bit, but I’m not that good.
Mainly use it to help me write. Other than that, I taught myself how to play
the harmonica and leave the rest up to the band.” He poured them each a glass
of white wine. “What about you? Play anythin’ else?”

“It’s probably more a question of what I don
’
t
play…or did play, I should say. Let’s see…do you want to know what I can play
well
or just what I can get a tune out of?” she asked, accepting the wineglass.

“Astound me.”

“Well, I was trained in classical guitar so I’d say that’s
what I’m best at, but I ventured into the rock scene for a while and went
electric. Um…I play a little drums, bass, fiddle, piano and saxophone. I’ve
pretty much dabbled on almost everything, though I wouldn’t say I
play
everything.”

“Jesus, woman! You’re a walking recording studio.”

“Ha! I wouldn’t go that far. When you grow up surrounded by
musicians day and night, you tend to pick up a thing or two, that’s all. I was
homeschooled until I reached high school and a lot of my education came from
inside clubs. If I saw an instrument that took my fancy, I’d borrow it and lock
myself away for a few days. I’d pick a song to concentrate on until I had it
down. That’s the best way to learn, I reckon.”

“What? So you taught yourself just like that?”

“Is there any other way? I
was
taught how to play
guitar and read music, although once I got that straight the other stuff just
came easy. Most instruments follow the same principle, don’t you think?”

A lazy smile crept onto his face as he gently shook his
head. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

The waiters returned, clearing the table and laying out
dessert. “So no brothers or sisters?” he asked.

“No, it’s just me. My mum was told she couldn’t have kids
when she was young. She and Dad married and their music took off so they
started touring. A few years later, I came along. You can imagine their
surprise. I was the last thing they’d expected.” She eyed the sweet offerings
in front of her and licked her lips.

“You pretty much grew up on the road then? God, I can’t
wait
to get home by the end of a tour. Two hundred-odd shows in a row and I’m done.
It takes me a year to recover. It must have been hard on you. I have enough
trouble dragging
myself
from place to place. I can’t imagine tryin’ to
raise a kid at the same time.”

“Are you
kidding
? I had a
great
time. Mind
you, our touring was more laid-back than what you’re used to. Mum and Dad
focused on small venues—pubs and clubs mainly. I got to travel Australia and
meet all sorts of interesting people. I had breaks though. During school
holidays I’d stay with my aunt and uncle or my grandparents. Most kids hardly
ever spend time with their parents—what with work and school and stuff—but I
was lucky enough to spend all day almost every day with mine. And I got to
watch them doing something they love. What more could a kid ask for?” She
smiled, raising her glass when he toasted her comment.

“So how did you end up in the art world and not music?”

“You sound like my dad. He wasn’t too pleased when he
realized I wasn’t following in their footsteps, but now he sees I’m where I
should be. I think he gets frustrated sometimes, you know, that I don’t play as
much as I used to, but my job keeps me very busy. I seem to have less time
every year for anything else.”

She held her hand up to stop Jesse refilling her wine to the
top. “Just half for me, thanks.”

“You were saying?”

“Well…when I left school at sixteen, I applied for an
apprenticeship in graphic design but didn’t get in. I was absolutely shattered
and thought Dad would get his way, after all. But my nan urged me to keep at it
and I’m glad she did. I got a job in a restaurant, singing and playing acoustic
in the corner. It wasn’t great, but it paid for my art courses. Anyway to cut a
long story short, I worked my butt off for two years. My grandparents both
passed away during that time and, I don’t know, I guess it made me even more
determined. Nan encouraged me so much I think I wanted to make her proud.

“I harassed Daniel for a few months, almost daily, until he
finally agreed to take me on as a junior artist. I think he got sick of me in
the end so he offered me a job to shut me up.” She sipped her wine. “Looking
back, I guess it’s funny really. He had me doing the most mundane jobs that
first year, probably hoping I’d give up, but the more he gave me the more I
asked for. Eventually he loosened the reins and started actually teaching me.
And here I am.”

Jesse had moved his seat closer and put his arm over the top
of her chair while she spoke. His fingers absently played with her hair and
when she looked up, he stole a kiss. He pulled her close and quickly deepened
it, pushing against her, caressing her with his tongue as if he were exploring
her mouth for the first time.