Starstruck (9 page)

He handed her a crystal flute, his grin rife with mischief.
“I’m glad you wore green tonight.”

“Yes. Nice tie, rock star. We match.”

“I must have read your mind, huh? Actually, I think I have
something else that’ll match. Come with me.” He guided her—a warm hand pressed
to the small of her back—toward a high chest of drawers with a large framed
mirror on top. “Now close your eyes and no peeking.”

He opened and closed a drawer and a sharp snapping followed.
She gasped when a smooth cold object skimmed her chest. She shivered. Something
even colder tickled the valley between her breasts. He pulled the necklace
higher and she smiled when his fingertips grazed the nape of her neck and swept
her hair down her back.

“Okay…open your eyes, beautiful,” he whispered, softly
pressing his lips to her ear.

She stared into the mirror. The blazing heat from his gaze
could have turned the glass to sand. She reluctantly stole her eyes away from
his to peer down at an emerald gemstone that rivaled her eye color. A single
tear rolled down her cheek and, with parted lips, she was speechless.

“It suits you, don’t you think? Do you like it?”

She stared at her chest in the mirror, lightly caressing the
large teardrop emerald and surrounding brilliant-cut diamonds.

Oh. My. God! Are these stones
real
?

She wiped her cheek and hoped her mascara lived up to its
claim of “waterproof”. “Jesse…I—I can’t accept this. It’s too much. What were
you thinking? Are these really
real
?” She peered down at the perfect gem
to get a closer view of the stones.

“As real as you are, sweetheart. I know it might seem a
bit…extravagant, but I couldn’t resist. Besides, I knew it would complement
your eyes and I was right. It goes
perfectly
with that dress too.”

“I don’t know, Jess…it must have been
awfully
expensive. Really, you shouldn’t have done this. I wouldn’t feel right taking
it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a no-frills kind of girl.” She
raised her hands to remove the necklace.

“Please…leave it on. Just see how it feels for tonight and
if you insist, I’ll take it back tomorrow. But leave it on for now, please? Let
me spoil you tonight.” He turned her to face him and held her jaw as if it were
a delicate flower, his blue eyes dancing with adoration. “Please?”

“Well, maybe just for tonight,” she said, gently biting her
bottom lip.

He dipped his head to capture her lips, lingering before
pulling away to switch on the stereo. Phil Collins’
One More Night
came
on as if the song had been plucked from her mind. Jesse swigged from his glass
and placed it on the bar.

Swaying his hips like he often did onstage, he prowled
toward her, grabbed her hand and twirled her underneath his arm. When she spun
back to him he pulled her close, wrapping one arm around her waist and clasping
her hand against his chest.

“Let’s dance like the Fonz,” he said, grinning.

“He-e-ey.” Her attempt at imitating Henry Winkler’s classic
line failed miserably and she sniggered.

He picked up the lyrics, singing softly in her ear, just for
her, as he slowly danced her to the middle of the room.

She became lost in his embrace.

While Jesse’s smooth tenor filled her ears, Mr. Collins
vanished. As she laid her hand over his heart, the words vibrated through his
chest into the tips of her fingers.

When he stopped singing, she gazed up at him. He hugged her
tight, still swaying in time with the music as the last of the song drifted to
a close. Brushing her fingers over his cheek, she drew his eyes to hers. They
had turned a deep ocean blue and…was that a tear?

He kissed her ever so sweetly and entwined their hands.
“Come on. Time to go.”

He turned off the music and led her out the door.

As Sam walked arm in arm with him down to the hotel bar, she
safely predicted she would never be able to listen to that song again without
crying. Their dance was burned into her memory forever.

Chapter Seven

He ushered Sam into the bar on the first floor of the hotel
and all eyes moved to them—from the staff to the elegantly dressed patrons
seated in royal-blue armchairs near small square tables. Jesse was used to the
attention whenever he entered a room, but it was as if he fed off Sam’s nervous
energy. Bizarrely, his palms were clammy and he’d bet his fortune hers were
too. Her gaze was skittish as she scanned the barroom, never focusing on any
one thing for very long, and she’d fidgeted with the thin strap of her evening
bag since leaving the elevator. He was anxious
for
her and wanted
nothing more than to relieve her tension. He needed her to relax and enjoy
their last hours together, his instincts screaming for him to make this night
memorable.

The manager Anderson attended them immediately—a bald,
stocky man of maturity with piercing blue eyes. He’d seen his fair share of
fights based on the small scars on his face, but when he spoke he was pure
English gentleman.

“Good evening, Jesse…ma’am. Your table’s right this way.” He
flashed his perfectly capped teeth and led them to the back of the room where
there was only candlelight.

Jesse smiled. He’d called down to the bar and spoken with
Anderson earlier, requesting a table with as much privacy as possible. Small
reserved
signs littered the tables surrounding their own intimate setting and his
fondness for the bar manager increased. Anderson always showed his excitement
on his sleeve when Jesse visited and this trip was no exception.

“Thanks, Andy. Any live music tonight?” Jesse waited for Sam
to sit before taking his own chair.

“We’ve got a blues band coming on any minute now. Worth a listen,
so stick around if you’ve got time. I used to play with these guys years ago.
They’re not bad. They might even let you up if you ask nicely.” He winked,
keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t travel. “Thought it worth mentioning
though. I dragged some lowlifes out of here twenty minutes ago. Looks like
word’s finally gotten out where you’ve been staying. I’ll keep an eye out best
I can in case any more of the cheeky buggers try to sneak in, but there’s only
so much I can do when it’s a full crowd, you know?”

“Thanks, Andy. I want to keep it peaceful tonight, if I
can.” He wove his fingers through Sam’s. “Would
you
want to be
interrupted if you had this lady on your arm?” He kissed her fingers gently.

“No…certainly not,” Anderson said stoically. “Some drinks?
The usual for you, Jess, and for you, ma’am?” He smiled.

“Jack Daniel’s, thank you.”

“Ah, very good.” He hurried to the bar, snapping his fingers
at one of the bartenders. Within moments, Anderson was back at their table with
two oversized glasses and two small white napkins. “Let me know when you’d like
another. Enjoy your evening.”

He turned and was off to crack the whip at his bar staff.
Anderson ran a very tight ship.

“He’s a funny bloke. An old rocker from way back. I’m sure
he only took this gig so his retired muso mates can use the bar.” Jesse smiled
and sipped from his glass. “He gets up and has a bash too, occasionally. He’s
not bad either. Plays a mean sax.”

The large emerald around Sam’s neck caught the light as he
set down his drink. The white-gold necklace had whispered to him from the
exclusive jeweler’s window just around the corner from the hotel. While Sam had
been getting ready for their date, he’d had the sudden urge to spoil her and
used his time wisely.

He returned his focus to her green eyes. “Are you hungry? Do
you mind if we hang here for a while first?”

“Just try to stop me. It’s been months since I heard any
live music. It’ll be fun,” she said, glancing toward the small stage.

It stood ten meters in front of them, just a couple of
lights, nothing fancy. Although a hell of a lot of instruments had been set up
for such a compact stage.

After finishing their drinks, he got Anderson’s attention
for another round as four band members moseyed up to the raised platform. The
older gentlemen were still fine-tuning their instruments when the drinks
arrived.

“Glad you’re stickin’ around, Jess. It’s about to get
noisy.” With a wink, Anderson left the table again.

“Good evening, ladies and gents,” a smooth rich voice spoke
into the microphone. “We’re
the
original Blues Brothers, though some may
beg to differ. We’re more commonly known around these parts as The Dizzie Blues
Band. We hope you enjoy the tunes and please, any blues fans with us tonight
throw out requests ’cause we knows ’em all. And who knows? If we play re-e-al
nice, we might be able to get a few
friends
up for a song or two.” The
man on the mic looked directly at Jesse, shooting him a half-smile and a nod.

The rear of the bar quickly filled with people and the band
opened with a classic BB King number,
Woke Up This Morning
.

Halfway through the song, Sam leaned into Jesse’s ear.
“They’re good,” she shouted over the music.

He nodded, returning her smile. They
were
good, but
he’d expected as much. Most of Anderson’s friends were polished musicians.

The crowd sat back, melting into their chairs as the bar
slowly filled with a thin cloud of cigar and cigarette smoke. Most patrons were
dressed in high-end designer clothes—the rich smoked wherever they liked.

Jesse couldn’t have recalled the next few songs the band
played. His focus was on Sam. He was fascinated by her eyes as she listened to
the well-oiled band. The green pools danced with every beat, accompanied by the
tapping of her foot. And she kept perfect time.

She turned to him with a wide grin as they played Muddy
Waters’
Hoochie Coochie Man
. He was encompassed by her pure enthusiasm
for the music. Taking hold of her hand on the table, he held it tightly,
tapping his thumb to the beat.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so entranced by
a woman, let alone one he’d just met. With Sam, his soul was at ease. It was
crazy, but true. In her presence, he wasn’t compelled to be anyone other than
who he really was—rock star aside.

Becky never understood the core of his character or why he
preferred to leave the spotlight on the stage. Sam was already changing him for
the better, making him lighter. He was not normally so impulsive, especially
concerning money, but he’d had no reservations whatsoever when the jeweler
billed him just over forty thousand pounds for her gift. He’d wanted to lavish
her with something special, something memorable. He’d never had the urge to be
so attentive to a woman before.

What the hell is happening to me?

Next up was another BB King classic,
Sweet Little Angel
.
Anderson dropped another round at their table, tapping his finger on the napkin
to draw Jesse’s attention. Jesse picked it up and held it close to the small
candle on the table.

The boys didn’t believe me when I told them you had a set
of lungs on ya! How about proving them wrong? They say you’re too pretty!

He looked across the room at Anderson, standing at the bar,
anxiously twisting a small towel in his hands. During Jesse’s stay at the hotel
the previous year, he and Andy had spent some time talking over a few drinks
after the bar had closed. Before calling it a night, Andy had admitted his tips
had more than tripled each time Jesse had sung on the tiny stage. Guests would
congregate around his bar for hours afterward, hoping for an encore while
drinking like fish.

Sam stared inquisitively at the napkin in his hand. He
handed it to her and she laughed when she read it. “Go on. What are you waiting
for? Get up there and show these boys how it’s done.”

“I don’t want an audience tonight. I just want to enjoy the
evening with you.” He leaned in close. “We leave tomorrow.”

“Yeah…I know.”

The band took a short break. The lead singer-guitarist
stepped down from the stage, groaning with the bend of his knees, and sat at a
crowded table directly in front.

“Well, you’ve still got me for the rest of the night. The
morning too if you behave yourself.” She smirked. “But I’d like to see you up
there. It’s been awhile since I saw you sing live. With a band, I mean.”

“Really? And when might that have been?” He slipped a quick
kiss onto her lips, enjoying the bite of whiskey on her breath.

“Sydney Entertainment Centre, 1997. Charli dragged me, if
you must know.”

“How old were you then, like ten?”

She raised a single brow and it made him smile. “I was
seventeen. I remember ’cause it was just before Tom and I…” She fiddled with
her necklace. “I wasn’t going to mention it,” she lowered her voice, “but…I’m
sure you’ve heard this many times before—”

“Hey, man, mind if I sit a spell?” The singer from the band
tipped his hat with a smile.

Jesse hadn’t been aware of someone approaching their table,
too enthralled by the words leaving Sam’s lips.

He cleared his throat. “Sure, pull up a seat.” He offered
his hand to the well-groomed older gent. “Nice set, man. Jesse Maurello.”

“Pleased to meet ya, brother. Name’s George Brown, but
everyone just calls me Dizzie. And I know who you are, all right. I ain’t that
old, son. My grandson thinks the sun shines outta your arsehole, I must say.
He’s got most your music, I’m sure.” He lit a hand-rolled cigarette. “You know,
I’ve been listening to your stuff for years, man. Had no choice in the matter,
mind you, but some of it ain’t that bad.” He chuckled deeply. “Tried to get
that boy interested in some blues, but kids these days…what can you do?”

Dizzie pointed to the empty glass in his hand, getting
Anderson’s attention at the bar. A round was quickly brought to their table and
Andy was jittery, hesitant.

“So how are your lungs holdin’ up, boy? Feel up to belting
out a few with some old-timers? Just look at Andy here. He’s about ready to
piss his pants, he’s so excited. Go on. Put the old man outta his misery.”
Dizzie patted Andy hard on the back, making him jump.

He turned to Sam, taking her hand in both of his and shaking
it. “And what, may I ask, is your name, lovely lady?”

“Sam. Nice to meet you, Dizzie,” she returned with a twinkle
in her eye. “You wouldn’t be the same George ‘Dizzie’ Brown who recorded
Down
the Road to Sunshine
by any chance?”

He slapped his leg and roared the most infectious laugh
Jesse had ever heard. “Girl! How the
hell
did you pull that one outta
your hat? You weren’t even born when I released that song. Geez, I thought the
last person who even
knew
it had died and gone to heaven long ago. Where
did
you find this woman, Jesse?”

Jesse stared at Sam in amazement. Where had this girl been
all his life?

“It’s nothing too exciting. Both of my parents are
musicians.” She picked up her drink. “Not
all
kids grew up musically
undernourished, you know. All kinds of music got played in our house, including
Mr. Brown’s here.”

She nudged Dizzie with her elbow. “Don’t be so surprised. My
dad loves you. Still pulls the old records out when he’s in the mood.”

Sam finished her drink just as Dizzie leaned over and pecked
her cheek. “Thank you, darlin’. I’m gonna play that song tonight just for you.
Well I’ll be damned,” he murmured into his glass with another deep chuckle. He
turned back to Jesse, a sly grin on his face as he stood. “So, pretty boy.
Ready to play with the pros?”

“Okay, old man. As long as this lovely lady doesn’t mind
sitting on her own for a little while?” He looked at Sam for approval before
rising from the table.

“Off you go, rock star. Get to work.” She tapped him on the
thigh.

He leaned close to her ear as Dizzie walked back to the
stage. “So what were you about to say earlier? You know, before we were
interrupted?”

“Oh you mean how I lost my virginity to one of your songs on
the radio the night I saw you in concert?” she deadpanned.

“You little hussy,” he whispered. With a huff, he tore off
his suit jacket, turned toward the stage and jumped up with one leap.

* * * * *

“Can I get you another drink?” Anderson asked.

“A glass of ice water would be lovely, thank you.” Sam
turned back to the stage, anticipating hearing Jesse sing again.

He looks nervous. Surely not. This should be a walk in
the park for him.

He spoke with the band for a moment before Dizzie handed him
an acoustic guitar. He stepped up to the mic and proudly announced, “Everyone
loves Bruce.” He strummed the intro to
I’m on Fire
, the band picking up
behind him.

She sat a little straighter and he stared directly at her,
singing with just as much cool raunchiness in his voice as Springsteen. Heat
rose in her stockings and her nipples stood at attention and said “hello”
against her velvet dress. She plucked the small wine menu from the table and
fanned her face, unable to contain her smile. Jesse’s gaze remained firmly on
her and she was fairly certain it was her fault he fumbled the lyrics toward
the end.

Next they played a melody she was familiar with but couldn’t
place straight away. Jesse sang the first line and she realized it was
Hard
to Be
, one of the last studio recordings by Stevie Ray Vaughan before he
died. He cooed the lyrics blues-style but at a much slower tempo than the
original. She loved it. When he was done, everyone in the bar stood and
cheered. He sang with such raw emotion, half the place was in tears—even
Anderson.

If Jesse had been nervous before, he showed no hint of it
now. He had the audience in the palm of his hand. After Dizzie moved to the
harmonica and Jesse put the guitar back on its stand, he counted them in. The
first bars of
Fever
boomed from the bass guitar. Sam recognized the song
instantly but hadn’t expected him to choose it. It had always been one of her
favorites.