She clutched at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin. Deciding that sitting sideways to him in an embrace wasn’t enough, she leaned back and he followed her down so he was laying half over her. His weight felt wonderful and she groaned when he shifted to the side.
“I’m too heavy for you,” he whispered as he rained kisses along her jaw and down her throat.
“No,” she protested, but when his hand slid beneath her top and touched her bare stomach, her brain shut down. Hands she had watched brilliantly play a piano caressed her in the same manner, lightly sliding and teasing, never stopping long at any one spot. The pads of his fingers were slightly calloused, which only heightened the sensations on her skin. She jerked at his shirt, pulling it up so she could share the pleasure of touch.
The minute she touched his bare back, his skin twitched and he groaned. He reached up with one hand and jerked his shirt over his head, stuffing it beneath her head as a cushion. He was warm to the touch, his muscles bunching and relaxing as she massaged his back.
“That feels good,” he breathed the words against her ear as he nibbled on her lobe.
“My sister used to give me a back rub after work,” she remembered. “It always helped.”
“Then allow me the pleasure,” he said. Without releasing her, he rolled slightly to the side so his hands could reach her back. Instead of massaging, he unhooked her bra.
“Jake,” she said cautiously.
“Shhhh, I can’t do a proper job with all that in the way.”
It had been a token protest at best, for she wanted him to touch her everywhere. In the quiet night with the water as accompaniment, she was but an ordinary girl, yet he was still extraordinary; his hands and mouth caressing everywhere until all her nerves were alive. When he nudged her blouse up and sucked her breast into his hot mouth, her back bowed and she cried out from the exquisite pleasure that lanced through her.
Jake gloried in her immediate response to him. She made him feel alive for the first time in months, feelings he had buried now bursting to life. His palm rubbed the tip of her breast and it pebbled beneath his touch. He sucked the other harder to illicit another groan from her. His tongue slid over the plump mound and teased the tender underside as she wiggled beneath him.
He fumbled at the waist of her shorts, found the button and pulled down the zipper. When she offered no resistance, he slid his hand over her lower abdomen to her curls. Their groans simultaneously filled the air. Delving deeper, he found her wet and hot and slid a finger into her. She pulled on his hair but he refused to stop, sliding again and again across the sensitive nub of her pleasure.
She tugged harder, and he released her breast to reclaim her mouth, silencing any protest she might have made. Her arms tightened around his neck as his tongue dipped inside her mouth to fully taste her and his fingers played her until she was writhing beneath him. She bumped against him, and as though sensing his need, brought her knee up until her thigh rubbed against his throbbing erection. Barely aware of where they were, he knew the improbability of making love to her at that moment, but he could at least finish what he had started.
He pressed the heel of his hand against her nub and slid another finger deeply into her. She arched, tearing her mouth from his to cry out, the sounds whipped away by the breeze. Together they rode the waves of her convulsions. When he tried to remove his hand, she clutched her thighs so he cupped her mound and felt the last of the quivers course through her. With a sigh, she relaxed, tucking her face against his shoulder and he held her lightly.
Once, he would have never thought he could feel this deeply. His life had seemed shallow, living to perform and to please his uncle. He had finally realized he could never meet that standard. Yet he kept trying to find the illusive something that was missing from his life, the wonder that had always made his mother smile when he was with her.
He was beginning to understand what that might be. He bent down to kiss Cheyenne’s forehead, whispering softly. “I think I may be in love with you.” God only knew what she would have to say about that, he thought ruefully, given her sometimes prickly nature. She stirred in his arms and he decided that for now, that realization was for him alone.
Cheyenne slowly opened her eyes but didn’t move from the warmth of Jake’s embrace. She couldn’t believe she had fallen asleep after what had happened. Indeed, she thought perhaps she had passed out after coming so completely apart in his arms. Either way, she nuzzled his shoulder, wondering how long she could pretend to be asleep. She wasn’t sure how to act, especially considering what she still felt against her thigh. Her orgasm had sent her over the moon, but he was still hard as stone. She slid her hand down to touch the ridged line of his shorts.
His hand grabbed her wrist. “Don’t.” His voice wasn’t mad, but he did sound a little desperate.
“But you didn’t—”
“Tonight was for you,” he said, kissing her nose when she looked up at him. He gently cupped her cheek and his look was so adoring, she almost gasped. What was he thinking to look at her like that?
“Jake, we…” She wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but apparently he didn’t need the words.
“Next time,” he said as he held out a hand and pulled her to her feet. She quickly tugged up her shorts but when she reached around to hook her bra, his hands met hers. “Allow me.” He smiled as he deftly fastened her.
“You have very quick hands.”
He stepped back and held his hands up, looking from one to the other. “I have amazing hands,” he said in all seriousness as he wiggled his fingers.
She laughed at his silliness and all the awkwardness disappeared. They walked back up the pier and down the nearly deserted street arm in arm. He kissed her lightly at the door of the Inn.
“Get some sleep,” he said softly as he disappeared into the night but all Cheyenne recalled as she readied for bed was…
Next time.
* * *
Jake’s situation was still apparent when he reached the cottage and he knew even a cold shower wouldn’t help, so he poured himself into his music. His pencil flew across the composition paper, the notes appearing out of nowhere to fill page after page. He didn’t need to play the music for her moans of pleasure still rang in his ears and the sweet scent of her clung to his skin. He knew this would be his best piece ever, but it certainly wasn’t for his uncle. The music before him, from his heart, was meant for only one person, but he would have to find a way to make her accept what they shared.
He knew she would not hesitate to come to his bed when the time came, not after what they had experienced tonight. But he wanted much more from Miss Cheyenne Tucker than a few nights of bliss. He would have to overcome her resistance, and he knew that couldn’t be done by showering her with his wealth. She had to be the only woman in a million who thumbed her nose at money unless she had earned it herself. And even then, she was generous with what she had, as she evidenced tonight when she refused to take any wages from Brenda Kay.
He finally fell into bed exhausted, his dreams full of creamy softness, lush breasts and cries of passion. He would have slept the day away had not his phone awakened him. When he didn’t reach it in time, it immediately started ringing again. He rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin as he punched speaker so he could start his coffee but instead of filling the coffee pot, he ducked his head under the faucet trying to clear it of sleep.
“‘Lo,” he bubbled.
“You swimming?” George Franklin’s voice boomed across the line. Jake quickly grabbed a hand towel and dried himself.
“What’s up, Sheriff? Please don’t tell me Miss Tucker is back in custody. It’s only eleven in the morning.”
The Sheriff laughed. “I need help, Jake, and you’re the only one I can think of.”
Jake groaned at the thought of doing crowd control and said as much.
“That might be easier,” replied the man. “Why the hell she had to plan a wedding for the same weekend as a damned fes
tival, I’ll never know, but now we have no piano player and she’s in tears and her mother says I’d better come up with one or else.”
Jake shook his head to clear it. “Whose wedding?”
“My daughter, Ramsey.”
“Well, congratulations.” Jake wasn’t sure what else to say, as the man didn’t sound at all excited. “That sounds like a grand affair.”
“It will be if you’ll play at the wedding.”
Jake had no trouble helping the sheriff, especially when he had kept Cheyenne’s and his names off the record after the bar fight. “Sure, I can do that. When is the wedding?”
“Today at three at the community church. Thanks, kiddo.” The call disconnected and Jake was left staring at his phone, wondering what had just happened. There went his plans to escort Cheyenne around the festival, he thought as he finally started the coffee. Between McNally, Brenda Kay and now the sheriff, it was hard getting any time alone with her. And now that he had tasted the wonder of her, he couldn’t wait for another chance to make her his.
He punched in her number and when she answered, he blurted out, “Want to go to a wedding today?”
“What?” she squawked.
He realized how that had sounded and laughed. “Not mine, for Pete’s sake. The sheriff’s daughter is getting married, and apparently they suddenly don’t have a pianist.”
“Oh,” she sounded relieved. “Are you sure you should do that, being incognito and everything?”
“Playing for a wedding in this community won’t be like playing a Grand piano at Carnegie.”
“Maybe, but you’ll be up front, just like on a stage.” She sounded awfully worried.
“Look at it this way. If someone recognizes me and word gets out, you’ll be absolved of responsibility for telling my uncle.”
“That’s not even funny,” she retorted. “I’m not ready…you’re not ready to go home.”
Jake caught her slip and smiled. Ah, sweet Cheyenne was overcoming Miss Tucker.
“Come with me,” he pleaded.
“Both my suits have been ruined, if you recall. Although Mrs. Godfrey sent them to the mainland cleaners with some of the linens, they’re not back yet. I have nothing to wear.”
“That will work,” he teased.
“You’re impossible.”
“Cheyenne, please.” Had he ever begged for a woman’s attention before? He frowned at the thought until he realized that for this particular woman, he would get down on his knees. The very idea surprised him and yet he knew it was true.
“What time?”
“I need to be there at 2:30 to play as people come in.”
“What about the music? Surely you don’t have Wagner’s Wedding March tucked away in that cottage.”
“Have you forgotten who I am?”
“Oh, right. Pick me up?”
“Two o’clock,” he replied and hung up. The smile never left his lips as he dug through the small closet looking for something to wear. Regardless of what she said, Cheyenne was beginning to see him as Jake Smith, not Joseph Donovan. One barrier down, but who knew how many more she would erect before giving in to the inevitable.
* * *
“You look nice,” she said as Jake held the Jeep door for her. He was impeccably dressed in a light blue shirt and print tie with black trousers, his black loafers buffed to a high shine. She had wondered if he had anything better to wear than his cargo shorts and polo shirt. Her voice must have given her thoughts away because he raised a brow at her comment and she blushed.
“And you look lovely,” he said. “Much better than in those starchy suits.”
She sputtered but he laughed and she realized he teased her. She was still getting used to the huge differences between Jake as she knew him now and the man he had left behind in Chicago.
She gathered in the side of her dress so he could close the door. She had settled on her sundress, but wore heels this time instead of sandals. She had left her hair down, letting it curl about her shoulders.
When he settled in the driver’s seat, he turned toward her and reached across the distance to curl his hand behind her neck. Tugging her closer, he kissed her, then turned back to start the engine.
“You’ll mess my lipstick,” she said, even as she licked her lips where his taste lingered.
His gaze narrowed. “I’d like to mess up a whole lot more of you.”
When? Her brain hollered. She pinched her lips together to keep from saying the word out loud.
He left her outside as soon as they arrived at the church, excusing himself with yet another quick kiss. Cheyenne thought she could get very used to his kisses.
“My, my, look at you.” The voice, full of laughter, came from behind her and she turned to see Lindsay brake to a stop.
“Hello, there.” She swished her hips. “Thanks again for the fashion advice.”
“Ha! That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.” She stepped off her bike and Cheyenne noticed for the first time the decorations draped along the back edges of the rickshaw.
It was a good way to change the topic.
“You’re all decked out, and not just the rickshaw.” Lindsay wore white Bermuda shorts and a pale blue top. Instead of her perpetual ball cap, her hair was piled on top her head in curls.
“I’m the official bridal transportation,” she said. “After the ceremony, I’ll take them on a loop downtown so everyone can gawk before depositing them at the reception.” She looked around as people began arriving. Soft music filtered out the open doors of the church. “That doesn’t sound like the regular pianist.”
Cheyenne instantly recognized one of Donovan’s classics, Summer Love, from the last album he had released. She panicked thinking that others may recognize it as well, and in turn see through his guise. Why wasn’t he playing someone else’s songs?
“Looks like the whole town has turned out, even in the midst of the festival,” Lindsay commented as they made their way into the small church. “But with the carnival over at West Bay, most of the tourist crowd will be there all day.”
“West Bay?” Cheyenne asked as they took seats near the back of the church.
Lindsay leaned closer. “Down on the southwest part of the island. Not as inhabited as Princetown so there’s lots of room for people to spread out. It’s like a state fair without the livestock exhibits. Then tonight is a huge concert, so unless you’re into drunken half naked groupies, I’d stay away.”
“Groupies?”
Lindsay shrugged. “Some hard rock groups I’ve never heard of. I’m more into whatever that pianist is playing.” She closed her eyes and swayed slightly with the music.
Cheyenne’s head snapped to the front of the church, but she couldn’t see Jake. The altar was covered with flowers, which was probably a good thing. Regardless of his long, sun bleached hair, Jake had a presence about him when he performed that would be difficult to hide.
At that moment, the minister walked out of a side door, followed by two young men Cheyenne could only guess were the groom and best man. The minute they were in place, the music rose to a crescendo and Wagner’s Wedding March began. Shivers raced down her back as the powerful music filled the small sanctuary. As she stood and turned toward the back, her awareness wasn’t for the familiar wedding processional but for the man behind the sound because she knew exactly how those musical fingers felt against her skin. She clutched the back of the pew as a wave of longing swept through her.
“You okay?” Lindsay whispered.
She nodded, giving her a weak smile. Her heart didn’t slow until the music softened, then stopped as the ceremony began.
The bride was beautiful, as all brides are, and as Cheyenne watched them, she felt another sense of longing. Would she ever find a love like she could see on the faces of the two young people at the front of the congregation? Did she even want that? She worried that she couldn’t make a commitment; that maybe she had too much of her mother’s flightiness. Was th
at why, although she longed for Jake’s touch, she knew from the start it wasn’t a relationship that would last?
The music started again, and Cheyenne automatically stood with the rest of the guests. The recessional was You Are the Sunshine of My Life and she wondered if it had been the bride’s pick, or Jake’s. Regardless, it certainly fit as the bride and groom, with eyes only for each other, hurried down the aisle.
“I have to go,” Lindsay said. “Maybe I’ll see you later at the reception?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Cheyenne started. Jake hadn’t said anything about staying for the reception. Would he have to play there, too?
Lindsay hurried away and Cheyenne made her way out of the church along with the other guests. She wasn’t sure what to do, or where she would find Jake, but Brenda Kay was suddenly at her side, pulling her along.
“We have to form the wedding corridor,” she said, giving Cheyenne a very long unlit sparkler. “Stay here beside me. When the bride and groom are ready to leave, the sparklers will be lit and held aloft as they pass by.” She pointed to the far end of the line of people where Cheyenne could see Lindsay pulling her decorated rickshaw into position.
She was soon caught up in the enthusiasm of the crowd, and hollered along with the rest, waving her sparkler, as the happy couple passed. When it was over and people began leaving, she looked around for Jake. He stood at the top of the church steps, hands in his front pockets, a thoughtful expression on his face. She took a step toward him and as she came into his view, he brightened, smiling as he came down the steps and caught her in a hug.
“Great wedding.”
“Great music,” she replied.
He kept one arm around her waist and started walking. “I can manage a decent tune now and then.”
“Uh-huh. Just now and then?” She tucked her arm behind his back and they followed the crowd to the Community Center behind the church where the reception was already in full swing.
Jake didn’t give Cheyenne a chance to get away as he swung her right into the dancing crowd. The DJ was playing a slow dance and he pulled her close, tucking her head in the crook of his neck and wrapping both arms around her. The wedding and the traditional music he had played had left him melancholy. Could he ever find a love like that? Did his profession and the celebrity status naturally attached to it prevent him from finding someone who could love him for himself? Was that yet another reason he had turned away from fame and fortune?
Prelude and Promises Page 10