“The Okey-Oaks Cereal girl! I remember you!”
She gave an embarrassed shrug, which looked strangely out of place on such a confident woman. “That’s my claim to fame.”
He laughed. “Man—I had a mad crush on you!”
She opened her mouth to respond but just then they both heard noises and voices coming through the office door. “That is probably the guys.” She stood. “Can you excuse me for a moment while I go let them know you’re here?”
She walked out of the room, her black skirt clinging to all the most interesting parts, moving with the sinuous shifting of her body.
As the door closed, Tristan shook his head in stunned amazement. “The Okey-Oaks girl.” He laughed to himself, remembering the little ponytailed girl in those commercials. The Okey-Oaks girl had been a few years older than Tristan, which meant that Rayne was in her late twenties.
Now, she was all grown up and running her own nightclub. And he was the new lead singer of her in-house band. He shook his head again, thinking how differently the day was turning out than what he’d expected. He’d fully expected to spend the day going from club to club and hoping to get a couple of on-the-spot auditions. Instead he’d just got a job working for one of the most interesting women he’d ever met. He returned his attention to filling out the paperwork. Apparently, the charmed life lived on.
Down the hall, Rayne knocked on the dressing-room door of the band.
“Come on in, Rayne,” a masculine voice called.
“Hey, guys.” She entered the room, closing the door behind her. Four men were positioned around the room as they prepared for rehearsal. Ronnie, Dex, Steve and Toby, the men who made up Optimus Four, all turned when they heard her enter.
“What’s up, Rayne?” Dex, the drummer, was rummaging through the closet. “You look like you’re about to burst.”
“I found him! Or better yet, he found us.”
“Who?” Ronnie, the keyboard player, asked.
“Our new lead singer. He’s in the other room filling out employment forms right now.”
“Wait a minute.” Steve, the guitarist, was leaning back in his chair, but he sat up straight at the announcement. “I thought we said we would do the auditions together.”
Rayne held up her hands. “Actually, he didn’t come about the lead singer job, he came about the guitarist opening. But, Steve, wait until you hear him. I’m telling you, he’s the one.”
The men all exchanged worried looks. “So, you just signed him. Just like that?” Toby, the other keyboard player, asked. “No, I’ve employed him. But we haven’t signed a contract. I would never do that without talking to you guys first. Just hear him, okay?” She looked at each man. “Look, Mel told me that as soon as we could get a lead singer, he would be interested in hearing what we can do.” She paused to let that sink in. “This is the opportunity we’ve all been waiting for. Trust me, this guy is incredible. Just hear him—for me.”
Slowly heads nodded in agreement and Rayne let herself out of the room. She stood in the hall for several seconds thinking of the last time she’d talked to her ex-boyfriend, music producer Melvin Ferrell. She’d invited him to the club to hear the group on several occasions but Mel had made it perfectly clear that his label was only interested in traditional groups, which included a lead singer. Up until now, Steve had been filling that role and he had a good voice. But he was a much better guitarist than he was a singer.
Just in that little bit she’d heard, Rayne knew Tristan was a rare talent and she had every intention of snatching him up before anyone else did. She meant what she said—she would never sign him without the guys’ approval. They were a team, after all. But she would do anything and everything to make sure the guys realized how special Tristan was.
She opened her office door and was struck again by his good looks, wondering how such a perfect lead singer had fallen right into her lap. “Ready?”
He stood, picked up his guitar and followed her back down the hall where she opened the dressing-room door and the five men came face-to-face.
“Everyone, this is Tristan Daniels.” She gestured to the group. “Tristan, this is Dex, our drummer, Toby and Ronnie on keyboards and Steve our guitarist.” She slowly backed out the door. “I’m going to give you guys some time to get to know each other. Be back in a little while.” And the door closed.
The moment the door closed, Tristan found himself instantly on guard. The other four men sat watching him with wary expressions and the room was completely quiet.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the realization that every man in this room had known Rayne longer than he had. That thought, unfortunately, led to the idea that one of them could even be dating her now.
“So…” Dex’s slow drawl broke the strained silence. “When do we get to hear these golden lungs of yours?”
“Golden lungs?” Tristan asked, turning to face the older man.
“According to Rayne,” Toby piped in from behind him, “you’re the one.”
“So, let’s hear it.” Steve stood, folding his arms across his chest.
Tristan instinctively wanted to tell them all where to put their pop quiz, but then again, when would he get another opportunity like this? And after the week he’d had, he needed all the breaks he could get.
“What do you want to hear?” He pulled his bass from the case.
“Marvin Gaye,” Dex called out. “Give us a little bit of ‘What’s Going On.’”
“Naw, man.” Steve smiled. “That’s too easy. How about… Etta James, ‘At Last.’”
Tristan quietly tuned his bass while the four men burst into laughter. Once again he considered just leaving.
Then Toby surprised him. He quickly glanced at the others before saying, “How about…Luther’s ‘Give Me the Reason.’”
Tristan shrugged dismissively and began to play before anyone could suggest something else. The room was completely silent while he performed and once he was finished, he had to look around to be sure he was not alone. All four men sat watching him with something akin to surprise on their faces.
Finally Steve said, “Wow, man. I’ve never heard it sung like that.”
Dex nodded in agreement. “I owe you an apology, brother. That was hot.”
Toby just nodded his agreement, still staring at Tristan in surprise.
Steve stood and clapped his hands with a wide grin. “Well, fellas, let’s get this rehearsal under way.”
Chapter 4
It was almost a week before Rayne discovered his living arrangements. It was around four in the morning and everyone had already left. Tristan had made a habit of waiting for Rayne every night, surprised that everyone who worked for her would simply leave her to lock up alone in the middle of the night.
As they left the club it was pouring rain, so Tristan pulled his coat up around his shoulders and headed down the avenue toward the hotel as he did every night. But this night Rayne called out to stop him.
“Wanna share a cab?”
He smiled and shrugged. “No, thanks.”
“It’s coming down like crazy. You’re gonna catch pneumonia.” She walked toward him until her umbrella was covering both of them.
She smiled. “And we can’t have you getting sick, can we? The word’s getting around about you. The club has been more full these past few nights than it’s been in a while.”
Tristan tried to ignore the way the water dripping off the edge of the umbrella fell on her face and lips. She was so beautiful, but he wasn’t ready to approach her in that way yet. There was too much going on at that moment, with him trying to settle into his new life. He was adjusting to the band—Rayne already had them in the studio laying down tracks and was planning to send them around to the local stations to get some airtime. He was still learning his way around the city, trying to find an apartment he could afford. As if matters weren’t enough, the credit card companies were giving him a hard time about sending his cards to the hotel because
it was not a permanent address. So, even if he were lucky enough to find a great apartment he had no way of putting down a deposit.
With his life in transition, Tristan understood that now was not the time to attempt to start a new relationship. Especially not with a woman like Rayne. She was the kind of woman who would demand a man’s full attention, and he wanted to be able to give it to her. He wanted to be able to wine and dine her properly and, when the time was right, have a decent apartment to bring her back to.
“Come on.” She leaned into him and Tristan resisted the temptation to meet her halfway. “I’ll pay,” she whispered.
Tristan chuckled. “No, thanks. You need to get going before you get sick.” He gestured to a cab parked not far away.
When the cab pulled to the curb, he opened the door for Rayne and she turned to him again, still holding her open umbrella. “Tristan, I insist. There is no reason for you to be out here in the rain. Where do you live?”
“Not far from here.”
“Then what’s the problem? It will be a short ride.” She closed the umbrella and climbed into the cab. Scooting over, she patted the seat next to her.
In his mind, Tristan saw her climbing into bed and patting the space next to her welcoming him in. He shook his head to get rid of the image. He was just about to tell her no one final time when she tilted her head to the side in the most provocative way he’d ever seen. Looking up at him with her sultry bedroom eyes, she quietly threw his words back at him.
“What are you afraid of?”
That did it. Tristan smiled and climbed into the cab beside her. He gave the driver an address one street over from the motel, figuring he’d get out and walk the rest of the way without Rayne any the wiser. But as soon as the cab came to a stop, Rayne took one look around and shook her head.
“This will never do.” She knocked on the glass and gave the driver another address.
Before Tristan could open the door, the car was pulling away from the curb.
“Hey!” He turned in the seat to face her. “What are you doing?”
Her eyes narrowed in on his face. “I know you just moved here from Albany, but that neighborhood is nothing more than a tourist trap known for its pickpockets and con men.”
“Yeah. So what?”
“I told you I have a low tolerance for bull, Tristan. If you’re down on your luck—that’s okay. But don’t try to jerk me around.”
“What are you talking about?”
“According to you, you’ve been in the city for two weeks. Why haven’t you found an apartment? Why are you still living in a hotel? If you couldn’t afford a place you should’ve just said so.”
Tristan laid his head back on the seat and sighed. “I was robbed my first day here. They got almost everything. My luggage, most of my money. I just didn’t want to have to call my family for help, so I was staying where I could afford. And to top it off, my credit card companies are giving me a hard time, so who knows how long it will take me to get replacements.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“What was there to say?” He glanced out the window. “Where are we going?”
“My place. You can stay with me for now.”
He sat straight up in his seat. “Rayne, there is no way I could impose on you like that. I mean, it’s a really kind offer, but I couldn’t—”
That sandy eyebrow rose in an expression he was coming to know well. “Tristan, that wasn’t a question. I now have a vested interest in your health and safety. And I’m not about to let you keep creeping around there until something worse than a mugging happens to you.” She winked. “Don’t worry, my place is plenty big enough for the both of us.”
A few minutes later the cab pulled up in front of a tall apartment building and Tristan, who was starting to feel the exhaustion of the night come down on him, followed Rayne inside.
They stepped off on the eighteenth floor and he followed her down a plush hallway to her apartment. As they entered, Tristan’s eyes were immediately drawn to the stark white walls decorated with black-and-white prints.
It took all of five seconds for him to realize the prints were erotic paintings. As Rayne moved around him, taking off her jacket, hanging up the umbrella and dropping her mail on the small white desk that sat in the corner, Tristan was left with nothing to do but stand and stare.
“You didn’t strike me as the type to be easily shocked.” He turned to where her voice was coming from, the kitchenette. She was taking something out of the refrigerator.
“I’m not usually.” He forced his eyes away from the artwork to the white leather multisectional sofa that took up a large portion of the big room. There was a white marble round dining table and white shag rugs throughout the room.
Looks as if someone got stuck in the seventies, Tristan thought. The decor looked like something straight out of a James Bond movie. Strangely, the decor matched her personality.
“Care for something to eat?” She lifted a small white box of what was obviously leftover takeout Chinese food.
“No, thanks,” he said, moving toward the hallway leading to the back rooms. “If I eat that stuff now, I’ll be up until noon.” He stopped at the entrance of the brightly colored hallway. The two walls were painted mustard yellow and lined with pictures of Rayne with various celebrities and friends—mostly men—at different stages of her life. Some of the pictures left little doubt as to the relationships she’d shared with some of the men.
With a frown he turned to the lab-white living room lined with provocative art and then turned back to the cozy hallway. Both were Rayne, both suited her and together they revealed facets to her that he’d yet to realize.
Maybe this living-together thing is not such a bad idea, he thought.
She passed him in the hall, carrying a steaming plate of shrimp fried rice.
“Here’s your room.” The next doorway she came to, she paused. “There are extra blankets in the closet if you get cold.” With a yawn, she turned and headed farther down the hall to the last doorway on the left. “Get some sleep and we’ll work out the details of this later. Okay?”
Tristan nodded and without another word she disappeared into the room.
Tristan entered the bedroom that was modernly decorated in forest greens and gold. He was surprised to see the room had its own private bath. He set his guitar and backpack on the floor and sat down on the side of the plush bed.
Rayne Phillips was one of the most unusual people he’d ever met. Like the living room and the hallway, everything about her seemed to be a contradiction. She seemed street-smart, and yet she’d brought home a man she barely knew like some kind of stray dog.
For a week he’d been watching her, observing almost everything she did as she moved around the club day to day taking care of her enterprises. He couldn’t help it. Something about her drew his attention like a moth to a flame and it had been that way from the first moment he heard her voice.
He wanted her. With every fiber of his being he wanted her. He wanted her like he hadn’t wanted a woman in years. But he also wanted any relationship with Rayne to be something more than what she was apparently used to. He now knew he wanted to be more than just another picture on her hallway walls.
Up until then, he’d had no idea how to make that happen. In the short time he worked for her, he’d already picked up on Rayne’s free-spirited attitudes toward life and sex. And thanks to the guys, he’d learned a lot about the men who’d come before him.
None of it boded well for his situation. According to Dex, Rayne had this set of rules she lived by. Nothing she verbalized constantly, but over time those close to her picked up on them.
For instance, after a fling that turned into a stalking situation with a previous guitarist, Rayne no longer dated musicians, especially those that worked for her. And after a close call with a college student who purchased an engagement ring after two nights in her bed, she steered away from younger men. Although there were
only five years between them, he thought that still might present a problem for Rayne.
And, according to Ronnie, after her last serious relationship, the one with music producer Melvin Ferrell, ended badly, Rayne made some adjustments in the types of men she dated. Now she preferred the typical boy toy and “open” relationships.
That whole “open” relationship thing was completely out of the question in Tristan’s mind. There was no way he was going to be okay with his woman going out with other men.
He took off his shoes and stretched out across the bed. Based on what he knew about her so far, the idea of having any kind of serious relationship with her seemed close to impossible. But, then again, here he was lying in a bed in her home.
The night’s exhaustion finally won. As Tristan closed his eyes his final thought was the memory of Rayne in the cab, tilting her head to the side and patting the seat next to her. This time when the image of her sitting in bed beckoning him to her came to his mind he didn’t push it away.
The next morning, as promised, he and Rayne discussed their living arrangement over coffee and Danish. In her typical businesslike fashion, she offered him a renter/tenant agreement. She would reduce his weekly pay by the amount he was paying for renting the hotel room and he would help out with chores around the apartment. Apparently, she hated housework.
Tristan accepted the offer on the condition that Rayne understood it was only until he received his credit cards and was able to find a place of his own. Although considering she held this discussion with him while she was wearing a sheer pink teddy, Tristan thought it was a wonder he was able to remember anything she’d said.
That afternoon, he went back to the hotel and collected his few possessions. He packed up the few clothes he’d purchased after losing all of his and his few toiletries and checked out. Within a few days the pair had settled into a comfortable routine, and surprisingly enough, discovered they made pretty good roommates.
In the morning, they had breakfast together and then Rayne left for the club while Tristan cleaned up and got in some writing time. In the evenings, Tristan helped Rayne close up the club and they caught a cab home together. But the best part was the in-between times. Often, one of them would bring up a seemingly innocuous conversation and they would end up spending hours in deep discussion over some of the most painful and happy moments of their lives.
Rhythms of Love Page 12