The Picture
by Stephanie Taylor
Published by Astraea Press
www.astraeapress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
THE PICTURE
Copyright © 2011 STEPHANIE TAYLOR
ISBN 978-1-936852-29-1
Cover Art Designed By AM Designs Studio
To Bryan for letting me realize my dream to write and publish books. I love your bald head.
Last but certainly not least, thank you to God for giving me the determination and talent to do this. Even through the trials of life, You’ve always been there, carrying me…
I first saw him in 2007, at a cancer fundraiser concert in Atlanta, Georgia. I drove four hours from Alabama to see him because my curiosity was stronger than my common sense.
He wasn’t what I expected, to be honest. He was just as famous for his blue eyes as he was for his voice, and I wondered why disappointment filled me. I guess he just wasn’t quite what I’d imagined. Sitting across the auditorium, I couldn’t tell much about him except his face was a little scruffy and his dark hair longer than Emily had described.
I stood there, among all his fans, watching him. I felt like a stalker with the picture tucked securely in my back pocket. But I didn’t want to think about the picture at that moment. I wanted to see him for the man he really was.
He sang their latest ballad, his voice a scratchy, honeyed whiskey. The girls up front swayed as they waved their cell phones and lighters. I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the grin. If I had been a little younger, I might have been tempted to join in. My twenty-eight years owned too much sadness for me to feel so carefree.
As he sang, my heart broke a little more. Emily would have smiled her brilliant smile and been so excited, because after all, I knew now the song was about her.
I’ll breathe life into you
Just tell me when you need me to.
I’ll give you what you need
If only you’ll believe in me.
Tears shone on his face from across the stadium. I could hear the tremble in his voice as he sang the words. This was Emily’s song, and it was obvious he sang it for her, no matter who else listened. His eyes were closed and occasionally his fingertips tapped his heart.
When the song was over, tears streamed down my face and I clapped until my hands hurt. I looked around me at the unfamiliar faces and pretended I didn’t know the story behind the song. Almost everyone was here for entertainment. The occasional few might have come out of support for a loved one with cancer. But I was here for a reason.
I just wished I knew what it was.
Chapter 1
I paid good money to get into the after-party with the band. In fact, I spent pretty much my life savings just for the off chance I might get to speak with him. But the second I walked in, I realized my mistake. I didn’t belong here among the half-dressed women with their fumbling footsteps and slurred speech.
I wasn’t the kind of girl who threw herself at someone. Not even him. Someone offered me a drink and I immediately declined and sought the nearest corner of the room. Maybe observation would give me a clue as to what I needed to do next.
I sat down and looked around, spotting him immediately in the opposite corner of the room, surrounded by fourteen girls. Yes, I counted. Fourteen pairs of lust-filled eyes enticed him like they were his own personal harem from which he could choose one or several. Disgust rose thick in my throat and threatened to choke me. This was who he was. It was what he did.
I should have known.
I didn’t mean to stare. But I was much closer to him than I had been at the concert, and I could see those eyes now. Magazines and the internet would never do them justice. They were the color of the sky. But the analogy still didn’t seem to adequately describe how...electric and full of life they were. They missed nothing, those twin blue flames, deeply set in a strong, chiseled face.
He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. There was something about the way he filled out that shirt with muscles straining against the sleeves and his chest obviously the product of a lot of gym time. Those wide shoulders and his narrow waist made him the perfect upper body specimen–not too small and not too large. He wore boots that made him look both sloppy and put-together.
After a few minutes, he broke free of his groupies and went to get something to drink. The refreshment table was situated next to the back wall close to where I sat. I tried to look away but my eyes were glued to him, taking in every movement, each breath. He was magnificent in his confidence, surveying the room as he twisted off the cap of a beer, but I still felt like a stalker.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed a few swigs. A moment later, a frown creased his brow and he tossed the full bottle in the garbage. He looked frustrated or bored; I wasn’t sure which. As if he waged an inner war with himself, his hand hovered over a different brand of beer, but at the last minute, he grabbed a bottle of water instead with a glance in my direction.
My heart stopped when those eyes met mine. A marathon of introductions were running through my head but they all sounded so trite in light of the reason I was here.
He gave me a small smile and nodded his head once, but thankfully walked away. I was in over my head. Here I had spent my life savings just for the opportunity to talk to him, and I froze the second it landed in my lap.
The party blared on, drilling the incessant bass into my brain to the tempo of my thumping heart. Women gyrated against sweating men, shedding their clothing the more the beer next to me disappeared. Yet, I didn’t move.
At one point, a guy tried to make small talk. I nodded and smiled in all the appropriate places. I gave him short, staccato answers to his questions. No way did I want to encourage him. He was half-lit and kept getting in my line of sight for Nicholas. Eventually, he got the hint and left with an exasperated sigh.
“You haven’t moved all night,” came a voice to my left. When I looked into those blue eyes, I jerked in surprise and my heart stopped again.
I tried to smile, but my lips felt rigid, all those practiced greetings forgotten.
“Can I get you anything? Are you feeling okay?” He sat down so close to me our thighs touched. My heart tripped into overdrive and I felt like a skittish kitten, ready to bolt. His raised eyebrows and frown touched some part of me deep inside. When he placed his hand over mine, for a moment I wondered if he was sincere. It didn’t seem to jive with what I knew about him so far.
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want to dance or something? You look bored.”
“I was just thinking that about you.”
When I said it, he laughed. The smile lit up his whole face. He had laugh lines around his eyes that made him look more attractive. A small dimple in his left cheek flashed at me. He casually draped his arm around the back of the couch. The move might have felt suspicious anywhere else.
“You caught me. These parties aren’t my thing lately.”
I wondered if it had anything to do with Emily, but I kept my mouth shut.
“I’m Nicholas, by the way,” he said as an afterthought.
I grinned, relaxing a little. “I know.”
His eyes roamed my face, curiosity evident in their vibrant depths. “What’s your name?” he asked quietly.
&n
bsp; “Sophie,” I replied, a little breathless as his gaze whispered over me. “Sophie Alexander.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sophie. Now will you please tell me why you came to an after-party just to sit on the couch the whole time?”
His grin was contagious and I threw my hands up. “Your guess is as good as mine.” Maybe he could shed some light on what was appropriate after-party etiquette.
“You never answered my question.”
Confused, I frowned at him, waiting.
“Do you want to dance?”
Women glared and hovered nearby no doubt ready to grab him the second he left my side. A secret part of me reveled in the heady sense of power that, for the moment, he was all mine. But the logical side, no matter how absent it had been lately, told me not to.
“There are several other girls here who would love to dance with you.” I motioned with my eyes and he flapped a hand, dismissing them.
“Forget them. I want to dance with you.”
Nicholas didn’t wait for me to answer. A grin slid across his face as he tugged me to my feet. It took years off him, and I fell in love with his smile.
I didn’t particularly like to dance. In fact, I was horrible at it and was relieved when the song ended just as we made it to the dance floor. I shrugged and turned back around to sit down, but Nicholas’s hand reeled me back in to face him.
“Not so fast.” A slow song began, one I recognized as Emily’s song. Resignation bloomed on his face as the music swelled. It didn’t stop him though; he still pulled me into his arms. My first thought was how big he was. He was tall and his arms felt huge under my small hands. And strong. His protection surrounded me.
The room faded around me as I focused on Nicholas's face. It was impossible to concentrate on one particular area of beauty. But I had spent all day driving to see him and now here I stood in the haven of his arms. The weariness of the last six months hit me and I relaxed against him.
“There you go,” he said softly. “I don’t bite.” His words were soft against my ear as he started moving with me. Our feet shuffled and his hands stayed above my hips. So far, he was nothing like I thought. Could the rumors about his life be wrong? He was an enigma.
“This is a beautiful song.” I slid my arms around his shoulders.
“Thank you,” was all he offered, apparently not in the mood for conversation.
We danced through the song and he held me close, almost too tight. His fingers squeezed my sides and he clung to me as if his life depended on it. Had he singled me out somehow? Perhaps because he sensed I wasn't like anyone else here?
Emily’s song ended and another pulsing song began, yet Nicholas held me. I didn’t know what to think or do, so I stayed where I was. He finally pulled back enough to look at me.
He swallowed once, hard. Emotion swirled in his eyes like a hurricane brewing offshore. “I need to get out of here. Will you come with me?”
I hesitated, unsure how to answer.
"Please," he whispered.
I drew in a deep breath. “Sure.” Maybe the money spent on getting to this moment hadn't been in vain after all. I was leaving the party with Nicholas Cassidy.
Nicholas led me to the elevator. It looked like he was the womanizer the media painted after all. The question was, how did I feel about it? I wasn't sure. I didn’t do casual and he would know it if he tried anything. He pressed the button for the top floor, and we waited, my ears ringing from the silence. He didn't seem inclined to release my hand and I didn't try to pull free. He glanced at me and caught me looking at him. I quickly averted my eyes and trained them on the rising number above the door. His soft chuckle filled the elevator.
When the doors opened, we stepped out with our hands still entwined, and he tugged me in his wake as he crossed the hallway to the stairwell. Where were we going? I followed him up the stairs. We stopped at a door, and I stole a peek at Nicholas to find him watching me. His lips pulled into an engaging half-smile as he opened the heavy metal door and led me through. We were on the roof.
One look over the cityscape with the twinkling lights in the distance and I owned that city. Each light represented a person, a family. And acknowledging this, for just that instant, these people belonged to me…Nicholas belonged to me. His gentle squeeze planted me firmly back into reality, but I chose to see the view for what it was. God's beauty.
To my right, a noise brought me out of my thoughts and I saw two forms meshed together in a line of mangled flesh and limbs. It didn’t take me long to realize it was the guy that tried to pick me up earlier. Nicholas cast them an annoyed glance and steered me away from them to the other side of the roof.
He finally stopped and we simply looked out over the city again. Rain from earlier that day still glistened on the rooftops and the street below. The smell of wet asphalt had me wrinkling my nose.
“I love it up here,” Nicholas finally said a little while later. “I can think.” I tore my gaze from the lights below us and met his eyes. But his look was too intense, too perceptive, and I looked away, twisting a false smile on my face. The lights beyond the roof were suddenly far more interesting than they had been earlier.
“It must be good inspiration up here for writing.”
He shook his head. “It’s not about that. We’re not here in Atlanta very often, but when we are, this is where I want to stay. I feel closer to God here.”
I closed my eyes as a small breeze lifted the hair at my temples. All the talk of God and the scenery reminded me of Emily.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. My eyes shot open and narrowed on Nicholas. I resisted the urge to look around and make sure he actually spoke to me. The fact that his attention was focused resolutely in my direction told me he was, in fact, talking about me. “You don’t even know it, do you?”
I ran my tongue over my lips and again avoided his gaze. I didn’t want to discuss me. I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “What do you think about when you’re up here?”
He stood and walked into my line of vision. I could tell that I was just as much an enigma to him as he was to me by the way he pursued me. After all, I was the one he chose to come to the roof with, not someone else. “What do you do when you’re not bored at after-parties?”
“I’m a hospice nurse.”
He studied me for a long moment before he spoke. “I can see that... I know what you do makes a huge difference in people’s lives. How do you stay sane?”
My eyes swept up to meet his and I grinned. "After parties."
He gave a sudden bark of laughter. “Sophie has a sense of humor after all. Seriously, how do you do it?”
“I try not to get personally involved.” But not getting involved hadn't been an option with Emily. Before I knew it, Emily had weaved a spell and I had fallen under it. She was the kind of person I wanted to be. She gave me no other choice than to get personally involved and no amount of pity for her situation could erase the fact that I loved her, too. Everyone loved her, except the one who had mattered the most. “It’s always sad to see a patient go, whether you’re involved or not. I try to remember I have a job to do and that’s to make a dying patient’s last days as comfortable and as happy as possible. But occasionally you do get invested in their story.” I snuck a glance at him. “When that happens, I try to take the good in their life and hold on to it. And learn from the bad. When both of those fail, I have a great therapist on speed dial.”
We smiled at each other. The eye contact held an intense heat as we measured each other up before I looked down and smoothed my shirt. He stepped closer to me, his warmth almost a physical caress, and the wind wrapped a nice scent of soap and pine around me.
“It’s refreshing to have a conversation with a woman who’s not thinking about the best way to get me in bed.”
I shifted and looked out at the lights again with a deep sigh. Oh, if he only knew. Maybe I didn’t do casual, but that didn’t keep me from thinking naked thoughts about him. I turned my
gaze back to his and my lips quirked.
He caught the look on my face and laughed.
Shock splintered through me when his hands framed my face and forced me to look at him. The laughter slid away, as did his smile, and made room for a smoldering fierceness as he licked his lips and eyed mine. I wanted nothing more than to see what it felt like to kiss those full lips. Even though Emily didn’t tell me why she sent me, I couldn’t let him think I was that kind of girl. There was need in his eyes that I could see clearly, although I wasn’t sure it was directed at me or what he thought I might represent. He studied my mouth and with a sigh, released me and took a step back, leaving me thankful for his self-control because I was no longer so certain of mine.
“What do you think about when you’re up here?” I asked him again.
“Nothing that wouldn’t take me a year to explain.”
“I’ve got time.” What was I doing? Did I want to know his answer?
Slowly, Nicholas sat down again and patted the cement next to him. I joined him and waited for him to go on.
The weather was starting to turn cold, Emily’s favorite time of year. Fall leaves were at their peak here in the south, and Thanksgiving was just around the corner. A sudden chill had me wrapping myself a little deeper in my sweater, but it was pathetically light for what must have been forty-degree weather. Nicholas noticed my shiver and without a word pulled me into his arms.
He gave the impression in his public life of having been around the block many times. Yet just now, his touch wasn’t even suggestive. Curiosity and need danced in his roaming fingertips on my palm, but otherwise, he was a perfect gentleman. When his arms came around me, his odd position seemed awkward and uncomfortable, so I scooted to place myself between his legs, my back resting against his chest. His hands moved up and down my arms, caressing me in a way that spoke of familiarity, despite our short acquaintance.
When he began to talk, he spoke quietly against my ear, his hand continuing the slow rhythmic strokes up and down my arms, as though keeping time to one of his songs. I listened with closed eyes, feeling every ounce of what he said.
The Picture Page 1