Resurrection

by Karina Bliss

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  “And fuck you.” Rubbing her eyes dry under the glasses she turned her back on him, strode toward the parking lot and got in the car. Let’s see if the S.O.B. is smiling when I leave him stranded. The tires squealed as she did a U-turn toward the exit. Moss blocked her path.

  She slammed the horn, trying to embarrass him into standing clear; he didn’t move. Exasperated, she gunned the engine and opened the driver’s window. “Get out of my—”

  “I hesitated because I got scared, okay?” he yelled.

  She stopped gunning the engine. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He moved to the open window. “You make me feel things I’m uncomfortable feeling.” He ran a hand through his hair, impatient and frustrated, flattening the tangles her fingers had put there. “Not to mention, you’re upgrading to normal guys and I don’t know what normal fucking looks like. And you don’t need another runner in your life.”

  Anger turning to embarrassment, she unlocked the passenger door. “I guess I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

  Moss didn’t get in the car. “No kidding. Sounded like you needed to let off steam.”

  “I did.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “But not with you. I’m sorry.” Do I mean my anger, or encouraging him in the kiss? Both.

  “I’m the one who should apologize,” he said gruffly. “The last thing you needed was me hitting on you.” He swallowed. “I don’t know what came over me. I swear it won’t happen again.”

  She told herself the pang was relief. “I did kiss you back,” she said scrupulously as he got in the car. Honesty, no matter what. “I can’t deny I’m attracted to you, but—”

  “No musicians, no photographers, no artistic or creative types,” he quoted. “You’re looking for someone capable of building a relationship that lasts a lifetime.”

  “We don’t want the same things.” She felt foolish saying it. It was only a kiss, kisses meant nothing to him. She hadn’t posed it as a question but reaching for his seatbelt, he nodded anyway.

  “You want a regular life.”

  “Yes.” Sleeping Beauty had woken up and realized no prince existed who could save her. She was saving herself these days, and that included choosing a guy who shared her values. A one-woman man whose loyalty she’d never have to doubt. Easygoing, transparent, and loving. Moss was none of those things.

  “This probably sounds strange coming from a woman embroiled in a sex scandal but I still believe in love.” She’d seen Zander transform when he met Elizabeth; Jared and Kayla recommit after a difficult time; Dimity become a bigger badass under Seth’s devotion.

  “Someone has to,” Moss replied, and she winced.

  He noticed. “I didn’t mean that as cynically as it sounds. It takes courage to say, I deserve better.”

  “So…we’re okay?” The dream is worth holding out for.

  “No, I’m kicking you out of the house for not finding me fucking irresistible.”

  “Driver and ego deflater. No extra charge.” He had no idea how close she’d come to sliding her hands under his T-shirt to touch skin. Thank God.

  He snorted.

  Okay, the jokes might be a little labored while they overcame a slight self-consciousness but at least they were on the same page. The kiss meant nothing.

  They didn’t talk much the rest of the trip, which gave Lily the chance to remember more of her conversation with her girlfriends. As they entered the house she said casually, “Exactly how much did you hear the other night?”

  “Aside from Dimity wearing out Seth’s batteries?”

  She laughed, and dropped her keys on the hook beside the front door.

  “You’re looking for commitment, trust, and…something else,” Moss said. “What was it?”

  “Monogamy,” she supplied, relieved he didn’t mention table sex.

  “Yeah.” He started walking toward the laundry with his gym bag, then stopped. “Listen, before we forget that kiss forever, let’s get one thing straight. Two pieces of silicon wasn’t what drew guys to you. It was your smile and your sweetness. You’ve always been the whole package and you still are. You softened Zander at a time he was prime grade asshole. When his reflection was all he cared about, he still saw you.”

  She thought about that comment lying in bed that night. When she and Zander finally had an adult conversation about their breakup, he’d said, “I’m so focused on the next horizon, I trample over tender feelings without noticing, and you’re so sweet you let me.” And told her the times in their relationship he missed were the times they hung out together at home, watching TV, and relaxing together. The times she was being herself, instead of the party girl she thought he wanted.

  Was Moss right? Was she being too hard on Stormy?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Moss lay in bed the next morning, hands behind his head, reinforcing the iron-clad control over his emotions.

  From the living area, he could hear the murmur of voices. Someone else was splashing in the pool. Seth probably, doing morning laps. Madeleine scratched lightly on his door and gave her ‘let me in’ yip, but today he ignored her summons.

  Lily had needed comfort, reassurance, and what had he done? Kissed her. Unable to help himself. He rolled onto his belly and buried his face in the pillow with a groan. That was the part that terrified him. He never lost control like that. At least he’d had enough fucking decency to stop himself groping her breasts.

  He could have blown their friendship, messed her up for life. Yeah, melodrama boy, because she’s so weak. Despite his anguish, he grinned. He’d known that under her ‘I’m fine’ exterior, anger was smoldering somewhere, and boy, had he triggered it. Guess that was something he’d done right.

  “We don’t want the same thing.”

  He had no argument for that, but God, he wanted her. And she wanted him. But that was the only place they fit together, while the places they didn’t were chasms he couldn’t cross. He was dark, she was light; he avoided people, while she empathized with everyone, from kids to dogs… “Shit, Madeleine, can’t a guy get some peace?”

  Getting up to the dog’s persistent summons, he took some comfort from the warm wriggling bundle he cradled to his chest. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” The Jack Russell licked his nose.

  Lily wanted a happy-ever-after with a regular guy, their two point five kids, and a white picket fence. What stopped him challenging that wasn’t that he wasn’t good enough for her—though God knows it should have been. It was understanding that he wasn’t good for her.

  “Okay, out you go.” He rubbed his cheek against the dog and put her outside. “You’ve had your morning greeting.” She was scampering away as he closed the door.

  Screw this. It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself, get up, and face the music. Literally. Today they’d find out if their career had legs, or if Dave had been right and they were derivative wannabes. Since their contentious interview, debate had raged in the music world about ‘old’ versus ‘new’ rock. At least their new songs had gotten more airplay.

  But first. Naked, he picked up his cell and called the homeless center for an update. One of his recent ‘finds’ had returned to the streets; another was in rehab. A third had reconnected with his family. His and Lily’s runaway, Tania, still didn’t want visitors and was considering her options.

  The staff had told him her background because he was one of them. She’d grown up in Reno, her widower father had remarried, and she didn’t get on with the step mom. She’d run away to LA with an older guy who had a drug problem. When he suggested she help fund his habit with her body and she’d refused, she found herself on the streets, penniless and friendless. And pregnant. Tania had phoned home, hanging up on her stepmother when she’d said bitterly, ‘And what, we’re supposed to pick up the pieces?’

  She’d been living rough for a month.

  “Tell her that Lily and I asked after her.”

  “Sur
e, Moss, but—”

  “Yeah. No expectations. See you, Kathy.” He rang off and stepped into the shower.

  When he’d first found success, he’d ignored the homeless like everyone else. He didn’t want reminders of his life on the streets. Except one night he’d come across a kid too young to walk past, and talked him into going to the drop-in center that had once been his refuge.

  One kid had led to another. Now whenever he wasn’t touring or committed elsewhere he volunteered a couple of hours at the shelter a week, or took a stroll around the neighborhoods of the clubs he frequented. If he was going to be an insomniac he might as well do something useful.

  Toweling off after the shower, he saw he’d missed another phone call from Jess. This time his former hookup had left a message.

  “Will you please call me back as soon as you get this? I’m in hospital, which probably tells you everything you need to know.”

  It did. He called her immediately and got her answer service. “It’s Moss. I missed your call. Try me—”

  A scream shattered the peace. Dropping the phone, he scrambled into a pair of jeans and tore out the door, slamming into Lily, who was running down the hall in a wet bathing suit.

  He grabbed her shoulders. “You okay?”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  Together, they rushed into the open plan living area. Dimity was in Seth’s arms, bawling her eyes out. Moss stalled. Dimity never cried.

  Lily rushed forward. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

  “Nothing.” Angling his body to screen Dimity, Seth looked at Moss. “Everything’s fucking great.” His eyes were wet and his grin wider than Moss had ever seen it.

  His heart lurched and started to gallop. “Some early reviews are in?”

  “Better than that,” said Dimity’s muffled voice. Rubbing her eyes dry, she stepped away from Seth, and Moss saw she was clutching a magazine to her breast. Rolling Stone.

  He grinned. “We got the cover.”

  “Even better than that.” She threw the crumpled copy down on the counter and there they were. He, Jared and Seth standing under spotlights in an arrow formation, arms folded, unsmiling, their instruments set up in the background. For a moment Moss could only see his black eye in all its lurid glory. Then he registered the headline: Down but not out. T-Minus 6 soar with debut album.

  “No,” he said slowly. He had to be seeing things. “Four stars?” Beside him, Lily laughed delightedly.

  “And we have lift-off,” said Dimity. “Strap in for a wild ride.”

  I did it. He looked at Seth, who was making no effort to hide his tears. “We did it,” he amended aloud.

  “Guess we’re rock stars again.” The drummer came over and caught him in a hug so fierce Moss couldn’t breathe. He returned it. Now it’s even more important I don’t let these guys down.

  Seth released him and let out a whoop that startled the dog into a bark.

  Involuntarily, Moss’s gaze went to Lily, who was dripping water on the floor and waltzing with Dimity. I’m now officially everything she doesn’t want.

  * * *

  Lily had never been present at the genesis of a new band and, judging by the reviews that rolled in during the day, it was the genesis of a great one. Dimity was in seventh heaven, walking around with a glass of champagne in one hand and her cell in the other and happily hollering out updates.

  “The Tonight Show has confirmed New York next week.”

  “Slate says you’re setting a new benchmark in progressive rock.”

  “Loudwire is calling T-Minus 6 the next generation of space invaders.”

  Infected by her owner’s excitement, the Jack Russell scampered around her feet. Seth eventually carried Dimity off to the bedroom to celebrate improperly.

  Kayla and Jared arrived within the hour with the kids and by noon the house was full of people involved in the album’s production. This allowed Lily and Moss to continue their kick-ass job of not being alone together.

  She was absolutely, one hundred percent certain she’d done the right thing in telling him she wasn’t interested. But their kiss had resurrected desire.

  Her brain might be on board with common sense but her traitorous body had jumped ship the moment she fell asleep by throwing up the sex dream again. It ended at the same place—seconds before consummation—leaving her frustrated and restless and unwilling to masturbate because Moss had unwittingly supplied the foreplay.

  Instead she’d lain awake trying not to imagine him sleeping naked down the hall, his room so close she could walk there in eight, maybe ten steps and—

  Dimity’s murmured voice as she walked past Lily’s door in the middle of the night to let the dog outside saved her. How would her friend feel if Lily and Moss took the kiss further? Bitterly disappointed that Lily hadn’t learned her lesson and was still choosing the wrong guys. She couldn’t do that to Dimity, who’d been nothing but supportive.

  This morning she’d swum laps until her body was exhausted and the pool was just water again. And she had a plan. Despite yesterday’s grown-up conversation, residual awkwardness was inevitable. Her job today was to return them safely to the friend zone.

  Unfortunately, Moss was smiling his rare smile a lot today, which didn’t help. What did was seeing how many other women found his smile equally irresistible. Oh yeah, that helped a lot. Enough so that when Moss told her to “Please get the hell away from the sink because washing glasses isn’t what I pay you for,” she could answer flippantly.

  “Unless I’m driving, my time’s my own. That was our deal, rock star.” Dunking another dirty glass in soapy hot water she added casually, “But good to see one kiss didn’t turn you into Prince Charming or anything.”

  He took a moment to respond. “I figured you’d never want to speak of it again.”

  “I’m normalizing. Isn’t that what you called it, when you made a joke about Travis’s performance?” Difficult as it was, she held his gaze. “Too soon?”

  He snorted, and the tension broke. “No. We don’t want anything to change between us.”

  “No.” There was a water spot on one of the flutes, she polished it. “We don’t want that.”

  “Give me that.” Confiscating the flute, Moss filled it with champagne and handed it to her. “The other half of the dynamic duo doesn’t wash dishes.” Poolside, someone jacked up the volume on the music. An old George Michael track. ‘I Want Your Sex.’ Oh boy.

  “Cheers.” He tapped his beer bottle to her glass. “Come and join the party.”

  “There you are!” The willowy visual artist who’d designed the album cover stepped inside from the patio and smiled at Moss. “They’re playing our song.” Raising her hands above her head, she danced over to him. “Old times, McFadden, old times.”

  He looked at Lily, but she’d prepared herself for this situation. Laughing, she gave him a push. “Go!”

  “You’re coming too?”

  “In a minute.”

  After he left, she closed her eyes and muttered, “I’m doing the right thing.” Ditching the champagne in favor of soda—self-control was everything—she followed Moss and his dancing partner outside, pausing on the threshold.

  The hip, the creative, and the beautiful mingled—laughing, talking, negotiating. Caterers wandered among them holding aloft trays of canapés and drinks. This was her old life except with subtle differences. No one stopped talking at her arrival, so she was free to simply be a spectator.

  Jared played in the pool with the kids, Maddie showing off her swimming to an admiring group. A couple of the female bystanders were paying more attention to Jared’s biceps as he lifted his small son higher to avoid the splashes.

  Wearing his sexy apron, Seth stood at the barbecue cooking burgers for the sliders, regaling the beer drinkers. Kayla held court by the pool, looking relaxed and tanned in a stunning red dress that she and Lily had found in an outlet store yesterday for twenty bucks. There was real here.

  Madeleine whi
ned at her feet and she ditched her glass to scoop up the dog, unable to stop her gaze shifting to the dancers who’d commandeered the grass yard at the end of the pool.

  There was something incredibly sexy about a man who danced like no one was watching, who let the beat take him over. Many times she’d watched women fall under Moss’s spell and today was no different. There were two dancing in his orbit—if undulating could be called dancing. It occurred to Lily that she’d done this often with Zander. Waited for him to look up from all the women offering easy sex and say, “I want you. Only you.”

  Turning away, she covered Madeleine’s eyes. “You’re too young to see this.” She’d made the right call in not taking that kiss further. No regrets.

  “Are you protecting my baby’s morals?” Dimity materialized from the throng. “I was about to put her in our bedroom, she’s not big on parties and this is likely to get wild.” Handing Lily her half-empty champagne flute, she took her wriggling dog and kissed her, then murmured, “Don’t worry, none of these people knew you as Stormy.”

  It hadn’t even crossed Lily’s mind, she’d been so distracted. “Is my being here becoming a liability for you and the band?” Horrified, she glanced at Moss; he was walking away from the dancing holding his cell to his ear.

  “No,” Dimity said firmly. “So put that thought out of your head right now.”

  Searching her friend’s face, Lily saw only a tipsy affection. And loyalty.

  “I’m hugged out,” Dimity warned, reading her intention.

  “Shut up, bestie, and bring it in.”

  “Fine,” Dimity grumbled. Shifting the dog, she returned a one-arm hug. “But it’s only because you’ve caught me drunk and happy.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re tough.” Lily tightened her hold, feeling oddly emotional. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. You set a good example, you know that?” She’d lost her balance in the salon, and then later with Moss, but being with Dimity steadied her. “You’re a smart woman who makes smart decisions.”

  “I know, I’m amazing,” Dimity teased. “Let me put my pooch to bed and we can toast how wonderful I am.”