The Gunny & The Jazz Singer (Birchwood Falls #1) (3 page)

"Congratulations, Phoebs. You
were great as usual."

"Thanks, Davy."

"You seemed to be looking at
someone. Were you? Or looking for someone?"

She took a sip to avoid answering
until she knew what she wanted to admit.

Davy continued. "There was a
gorgeous guy standing down near the end of the bar. He's the one I'd be singing
to if I had the pipes. Too bad he was with that asshole Wilcox."

"I saw them too," Moira
added, narrowing her eyes at Phoebe.

She sucked in a quick breath and hoped
the dark bar would conceal her flushing cheeks. Moira didn't know anything
about this morning. It was a hilarious story, so why hadn't she told her
friends? Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
Okay, this is all overdoing it.
She took a deep breath,
surreptitiously glancing around the bar, especially toward the end of the bar
toward that dark alcove.

Moira and Davy's eyebrows lifted
comically like a silent movie actor's look of extreme surprise. Both looked
past her, their mouths open in absolute astonishment. Prickles raced across her
neck and down her spine. Heat. Her sixth sense said man. Not just any man.
Suppressing a shiver, she took another deep breath—or tried to at least—and
turned to look over her shoulder—right into a bulge pushing at the straining
zipper placket of snug jeans encasing lean hips. Her heart faltered, skipping
and racing beats combined.

Davy was the first to stand and
offer his hand to shake. She caught back a laugh. Her friend was so gay and
naturally would lust after the man. But then who wouldn't?
Stop it!

"Hi, I'm Davy. This is Moira."
He indicated her girlfriend. "And you were enjoying the musical stylings
of the wonderful Phoebe Barnes." In a snide tone, he added, "Wilcox."

Phoebe lifted her gaze up and up
and ridiculously higher to an expression she couldn't read in eyes piercingly light
in the dark club. A little thought niggled at her. Shouldn't he be a bit more
admiring? She didn't expect star-struck, but he looked gratingly impassive.

"Join us? You using this? No?"
Davy, purposely ignoring Butch, grabbed an unused chair at the next table. "Thanks
man." He set the chair right next to Phoebe.

Butch made a irritated face as he
grabbed another chair for himself, naturally without asking permission from the
people at that table. He didn't act fast enough though and had to settle for
sitting on the other side of the hunk and between Davy and Moira.

Phoebe suppressed another laugh.
Butch couldn't stand her friend and would hate sitting that close to him. But
Davy could take care of himself. Meanwhile Moira just gazed wide-eyed and
open-mouthed.
Geez, they won't be any
help.

The man sat carefully on the tiny
chair with a look on his face that said he didn't trust it to stand up to his
weight. Not that he was fat. Not by any means. As he sat next to her, she took
in his immense shoulders and chest that contrasted with a narrow, flat waist
and nonexistent hips. One of his hard thighs brushed her knee.

Her first reaction was to jerk away
from the heat of his leg burning through his jeans and hers. But she didn't.
Just that touch was incredibly sexy.

He leaned an elbow on the table and
turned toward her. "You were great, Phoebe. Haven't I seen you before?"
An innocent smile played on his lips.

Absolutely certain his befuddlement
was feigned, she answered his knowing grin with a haughty, "Maybe. At the
Grammys."

"That must have been where it
was."

His husky voice and crooked smile
bewitched her. The wrinkles at the corners of his light eyes radiated something
shared only with her. She was spellbound—heat bloomed in her entire body from
head to toes and everywhere in-between. She couldn't respond but neither could
she tear her gaze from his.

The sounds of piano music, the
clamor of voices, the clatter of ice and drink glasses all disappeared. His
gaze held her transfixed, then it shifted to her mouth for a long look. Her
lips tingled until his eyes returned to hers. She let out a soft breath.

"Rahn, this is my girlfriend.
I told you about her."

Butch's grating voice interrupted
what had become a gloriously hot moment. Phoebe ripped her gaze from the man
and met Butch's fierce eyes. They scared her. She'd never felt this peculiar
revulsion before.

How had she not realized how
strange he was? They'd only gone out a couple of times. He'd tried to kiss her
after the second date, but she'd held him off to a quick peck. Fear slithered
down her spine. She'd have to make it clear she wouldn't go out with him again.
Her career was always the best excuse.

"Marc Rahn." He offered
his hand. "I enjoyed your singing." He teased her with a quick wink.

She placed her hand in his palm,
mesmerized by the sight of her small fingers nestled in his big paw. She felt
like Little Red Riding Hood with the Big Bad Wolf and stifled a laugh. Would he
eat her up?

"Thank you." She gave his
hand a brief squeeze. Thankfully he let her go but not before his heat streaked
up her arm to curve around her breast, making her aware of the gold piercing.
Shivering, she settled her hands safely in her lap and tried to take a deep but
shaky breath.

"So what do you do, Marc?"
Davy asked.

She was curious about that too.

"Nothing right now," Marc
replied, shifting his gaze to Davy.

"Refills, anyone?" Butch
interrupted, making it obvious he felt left out.

Moira was the only one who
responded to him with a quick shake of her head. Her gaze was glued to Marc.

"I'm on leave from the
Marines."

With a worshipful smile, Davy
rested his chin on his fist. "What brought you to B Falls?"

"I went to high school here."
His rough voice made short shrift of his answer.

"Phoebe, can I talk to you a
minute?" Butch leaned around Marc to put himself in her line of sight. "In
private?"

"Hey, we're all friends here,"
Davy pointed out.

Butch glared at him. Phoebe knew
Butch hated gays, which was adding to the many reasons she didn't want to go
out with him again.

"Butch," she interceded. "We
can talk tomorrow. I'm tired tonight. It's been a long day."

Butch turned a malevolent gaze on
her, but it disappeared as quickly as she'd caught it. He looked down and
grabbed at the phone clipped to his belt. "Wilcox." After he listened
for a minute, a look of disgust and frustration crossed his face. "Okay.
Be right there." He stood. "I've got to go. Phoebe, can you get home
okay without me?"

"Uh, yeah."
What an asshole. What kind of possessive
game is he playing?
The sooner she got rid of him the better. He made her
more and more uncomfortable every time she saw him.

"Rahn, I'll have the file
tomorrow morning at the station."

Butch barely acknowledged the rest
of the group, but made a point of placing his hands on Phoebe's shoulders as if
he owned her. Leaning down, he kissed her neck and said loudly enough to be
heard even in the nightclub noise, "You were great, honey. Looking forward
to our date tomorrow."

Then, thankfully, he left. The
table was quiet for a moment. She was stunned at his actions and risked a
glance at Marc, at his curious expression. Before she came right out and told
him she wasn't Butch's girlfriend, Moira began a new topic of conversation.

"So Marc, how long have you
been in the Marines?"

"Eight years. Moira, was it?"

"Uh huh." Her brown eyes
sparkled as she smiled at him with the same kind of admiration Davy showed.

Phoebe loved her friends. She and
Davy and Moira had formed a close triumvirate when Phoebe first moved to town.
They were all nosy about each other's lives but not intrusive or judgmental.
Every day she cherished knowing them.

"What brought you back? Do you
have family here?"

His eyes immediately shuttered. A
muscle at his jaw ticked. His fists clenched suddenly on his thighs, the
knuckles turning white. "I have some unfinished business."

Phoebe heard him but knew the other
two hadn't. Before they could ask him to repeat himself, she gave them a quick
shake of her head. Gazing at him, she could almost feel the heavy emotion surrounding
him. It must be something really bad for a man like him to give off such pained
vibes.

A hand gripped her arm bringing her
back to earth. "We're going to take off now, honey."

"Huh?" Her gaze strayed
from Marc's face. She blinked a couple of times until focusing on the speaker.
Davy. He and Moira, grinning like idiots, stood. There was no way she could
move. Her limbs shook with something she'd never quite felt before and wasn't
even sure what it was.

"Well, sir," Davy
addressed Marc. "I can't tell you how sorry I am that you're obviously not
gay."

She started at Davy's brazenness
but wasn't surprised. He didn't flaunt it but didn't make it a secret either.

In a one-eighty mood change, Marc
stood, gave her friends a smile that would have melted steel and said, "Don't
leave on my account. I don't want to ruin your evening."

She was somewhat miffed at him. His
recovery was much quicker than hers. She was still too dazed to acknowledge her
own friends.

"Oh, that's all right,"
said Moira. "We have to work tomorrow. So do you, Phoebs."

She weakly nodded. "Yes, I
know. I'll be leaving soon." Then finally her composure returned. "Thank
you both for coming, as always. They're my biggest fans." She smiled at
Marc.

"It's good to have friends
like that," he said seriously.

"Will you see Phoebe gets home
okay?"

"Davy!" she responded
sharply. What the hell was he doing? Moira was no help. She just stood there
grinning.

"No problem. We live right
across the street from each other." He winked and shot Phoebe a smile that
sent her pulses racing.

"You do?" Moira gave her
a quick glance. "Since when?"

"Since this morning." He
turned that melting smile on her friend.

Damn him for reminding her of the
free peepshow she'd given him. She caught the call me signal Moira gave her and
nodded. They'd laugh about the story. Even Davy would love it and would
probably change it to a naked Marc in his own fantasies.

"Take care, okay Phoebs?"

She hugged Moira, then Davy. "I
will, guys. Talk to you later. Thanks again for coming tonight."

Davy gave her a funny look. She
knew the word coming would make him giggle, and frowning, she shook her head at
him as a warning not to say one more thing. Thankfully he didn't. The two waved
and left the table, their heads together obviously talking a mile a minute.

Wasting no time, Marc grinned
wolfishly and sat back down. "Phoebe Barnes, I think I'm going to like the
neighborhood."

Oh
God, the wolf's back.

Chapter Four

"Could I buy you a drink or do
you want to leave?" Marc didn't know how long any of these people had
lived in B Falls and hoped none of them recognized his last name. The hardware
store was long gone, but the old family house was still on the edge of town,
empty but there. He didn't want to rehash his past with strangers.

"I don't need a ride. I can
walk. It's not far."

"Well, as it so happens, I
didn't drive, and I know how far it is because I live across the street from
you." He gave her a lift of his eyebrows.

"Look, I'm just going to get
this out in the open. What happened this morning was an accident." She
hesitated, looked down to her hands folded tightly together on the table. Then
she rushed on. "I heard noises outside and wanted to check them out. I was
not issuing any invitations."

Apparently she wasn't easy. He wasn't
sure how he felt about that. He wasn't in the market for a serious relationship,
but something about this girl's singing captured his imagination. Sure, he
wanted knockdown-drag out sex and that was all, but Phoebe Barnes had an
innocent quality about her belying her sensuous stage presence.

God.
Innocent?
It was sensual, that husky voice crooning and serenading like a
lullaby putting you to sleep but waking your cock up at the same time.

"Listen, why don't I just walk
you home? No strings, no funny stuff, but don't expect me to forget what I saw
this morning." He grinned. Her consternation was fun to watch. "I
mean, what do you expect? I'm not Davy."

"Davy's my good friend. I won't
have you making remarks." She chided him.

He held up his hands, palms out. "Hey,
I wasn't bashing him. I was just sayin' I'm a guy. A straight guy."

"Yeah, you are." Her lips
tipped up in a crooked smile.

She sounded interested. "Thank
you. Now, do you want something more here or can we go?"

Apparently skittish, she made sure
she kept some space between them on the walk home. No accidental
shoulder-bumping. And the distance wasn't long enough for him.

She was a little-bitty thing
compared to his hulking presence. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and
carry her close to his chest. Something stuck in the back of his mind. Besides
flashing her naked body to him—was it just this morning?—he seemed to recall a
flash of something else in the vicinity of her breast.

Sucking in a breath, his cock
thickened, throbbing behind his zipper. Suddenly the most important thing to
him now was to determine if her nipple was pierced.

As they reached her front porch,
she was poised to hustle inside. He wouldn't be getting any more free shows,
damn it all. But as nice as it would be to spend some time with a luscious
woman like Phoebe, he hadn't come home for that.

But still it had been a long time
since he'd enjoyed a woman's body. Phoebe was such a hot little number, all
sensual singer combined with an obvious sweetness with her friends.
Just one kiss. What would that hurt?
Reaching for her hands, he tugged them up to rest on his shoulders and wrapped
his around her tiny waist, the firm curve flaring out to soft hips. He fought
palming her ass and pressing it against his fully swollen cock.