“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m falling asleep.”
She started at the sound of her daughter’s voice. “No, I’m sorry, babe. We’ll go.” She stood and helped Cassie to her feet. “I want to thank you all so much for your help,” she said to the group, looking at each one. “Especially you, Chad,” she ended awkwardly. Should she call him by his first name? They hadn’t even been introduced, but somehow Mr. Evans seemed wrong.
He started to step up, but Roger spoke for the group. Coming forward, he took both of Beth’s hands in his for a minute. “We’re just so sorry this happened to you. Both of you,” he added, reaching out to touch Cassie’s arm.
“Thank you.”
She gave Chad one more wistful glance over her shoulder before turning to leave.
***
Just as they moved to the door, it opened. Chad noticed Beth jumped a little, but it was only Pete and Dante returning.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Pete began. “The police came and escorted the”—he cleared his throat—“men,” the bodyguard asserted as if he would have chosen another word to describe them, “to the hospital, as you wanted, miss, but there didn’t seem to be any serious injuries.”
Chad noticed his own sense of relief was mirrored in Beth’s face.
“They said with the lateness of the hour and such, you could just come down to the police department tomorrow. They left their card.” Pete handed her the card, adding, “We can walk you out to your car if you are ready to go.”
“Yes. We’re exhausted and we actually have our own ‘gig’ of sorts tomorrow.”
“We’re singing in a Christmas concert at the Old Cathedral. Mom’s got a big solo.”
“Oh, Cas. They don’t want to hear about that,” Beth commented, blushing. “Thank you again.” She shook Roger’s hand, and then goodbyes were exchanged all around. When she took Chad’s hand, she turned it over to examine his knuckles and then looked up at him with concern. “I hope it won’t hurt your guitar playing.”
“Nah.” He waved off the idea, but a glimpse at his knuckles caused him to flashback to the horror he saw in her eyes when she watched him flailing away at a senseless man like some sort of savage. He withdrew his hand as if it were somehow tainted, then instantly regretted doing so. She peered at him, her brows furrowed for a second and a frown of concentration on her face.
Chad didn’t know what came over him earlier. But yet, he did. The things always eating away at his insides just came to the surface for a minute. Beth turned to leave, and on impulse, he reached for her arm. When she turned back around, he asked, “Would you mind if I called you tomorrow to check on you? To see how you’re feeling?”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. But if you want to…we’re at the Daltry Inn down by the riverfront.”
“Isn’t that the one right by the Arch?”
“Yes, that’s the one. It’s very close to here.”
“What time will you be up?”
“The concert’s not until two, but with going to the police station…nine, at the very latest. But you probably sleep in way past then.”
“No, it’s all right. I’ll call you.”
“Who are you kiddin’?” Roger snorted. “You never see him before noon. I don’t even think he owns an alarm clock.”
Chad shot him a dark look, but continued. “Do you mind if I walk you out, too?” He could feel, rather than see, Roger getting ready to make another smartass comment over his shoulder, so he quickly planted an elbow in his ribcage.
Beth appeared to catch the movement and gazed at the pair with a quizzical expression before responding. “Of course.”
The group proceeded out the door with Chad trailing behind.
As the door closed, he heard Keith query, “Do you think they’ll sue us?” Turning back, Chad saw the rest of the group looking at Keith balefully. “What? You all were thinking the same thing. You just didn’t have the balls to say it.”
Michelle picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at him.
***
As Pete held the outer door open for the women, he started in on Chad. “What? Now you takin’ over my whole duties for me? Ya gotta walk ‘em out, too?”
“Don’t worry about me taking over your job, Pete,” he replied ruefully as he rubbed his hands, stepping out of doors.
It was a common argument for the two. He resisted having a bodyguard from the start. It took David a long time to convince him that with extreme fans comes an increased element of danger and a need for professional protection. Chad felt like it was a blow to his ego for a big guy like him to hire a bodyguard. After all, he did have well-muscled arms from his guitar playing and from lugging the heavy amplifiers before they made it big. But when Trapped Under Ice’s first album went platinum in 2001, Pete was able to sell him on the idea of personal protection by explaining it was the star’s job to concentrate on music while the bodyguard focused on the musician’s safety.
“Yeah. And how about that?” Pete continued, grabbing Chad’s arm and holding his hand up in the parking lot’s lights. “Ya bust your hand, who’s gonna play your guitar? Dante, here?” They chuckled. But Pete’s face turned serious. “I mean it, man. Why didn’t you call me?”
“There wasn’t any time,” Chad argued. “And I did send Cassie in to get you.”
“Yeah, yeah. But it’s my job to keep you safe from the crazed fans who attack you.”
“But this wasn’t a crazed fan attacking me, Pete. If it were, I would have waited for you to come out and save me,” he added with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
“Everybody’s a smartass,” Pete mumbled under his breath.
But the suggestion of the mad fan made Chad wonder. “So, Beth, were you chaperoning Cassie here to the concert?”
“Oh no,” Cassie interrupted. “I bought the tickets for my mom as an early Christmas present. Mom is a huge fan, right, Mom? I don’t think her CD player will play anything but Trapped Under Ice.”
“Is that so?” He couldn’t help the grin.
Pete and Dante were now involved in their own conversation, ignoring the three ahead of them. The group reached Beth’s small, sporty sedan, alone in the parking lot, and the bodyguards hung back.
Chad spotted a copy of their newest CD on the dashboard and pointed to it. “Ah, I see.”
Beth looked embarrassed, but she admitted, “When I’ve had a long day, I like to turn the music up and sing really loud.”
“She’s nearly made me deaf,” Cassie teased.
“Really?” He crossed his hands over his chest and eyed Beth with humor, but sensing her discomfort, he changed the subject. “Couldn’t find a better parking space than this?” he joked, indicating the distance to the stadium with a sweep of his hand.
“Somebody was running late.” Beth gestured in Cassie’s direction, and then pressed the remote entry key to pop the locks. “Couldn’t decide whether to wear her hair up or down.”
“Mom!” Cassie censured with all the general teenagerness she could gather. She walked around to the far side of the car to get into the passenger’s seat.
He opened the car door for Beth. She hesitated before getting in.
“Thank you for everything.”
He nodded, unsure of how to respond. “I’ll call you at nine.”
She gazed at him for a minute with those arresting eyes of hers, as if she had something to say. He stood, his fingers wrapped over the top of the doorframe, but she seemed to change her mind and climbed into the car seat. He closed the door carefully, then stepped back as she started the engine.
Beth was about to tell the singer he didn’t need to call, but then realized she wanted him to. After all, she reasoned, who wouldn’t want to hear Chad Evans’s voice in the morning? She laughed to herself, and then adjusted the rearview mirror. She caught sight of him in the glass, trailing Pete and Dante as they walked back toward the stadium, his head down. She noticed, for the first time, he was only wearing a
t-shirt. Even though the December evening was mild, he still must have been freezing. As she watched, he turned to glance back one last time before her car left the parking lot. That was the image she was left with as she fell asleep.
***
A few minutes after nine, the red light on the phone lit up, the ringing ultra-loud in the still room. Beth fumbled with the receiver and tried to sound as if she’d been up rather than lying there hitting the snooze button.
“Hello?” Chad’s voice was husky as if he had just woke up, too. She bet Roger was right about his having to borrow an alarm clock.
“Good morning.”
“Hi. I just wanted to see how you were doing this morning?”
She tried to sit up, but her aching head forced her back down. “I’m fine,” she lied.
“Are you sure? You don’t sound fine?”
Was it that obvious? “My head hurts a little, but I’m sure it’s nothing an aspirin won’t solve.”
“We should have taken you to the hospital last night and had you checked out.”
It occurred to her that maybe he wasn’t really worried about her well-being; maybe he was worried about a lawsuit. She tried to tell herself she didn’t know the man at all; she was fooled into thinking she knew him by what may or may not be revealed in his lyrics or in magazine articles. Whatever she felt about Chad Evans, it was driven more by lust and imagination than by anything real.
“Honestly, I’m fine.”
“Okay,” he conceded, sounding unconvinced. “If you’re interested, I could leave tickets for you at the will call window for Saturday night’s show?”
She thought about it. Another bid to ward off a lawsuit? She drummed her fingers on the mattress. What did she care? Free tickets were free tickets, and after how much she enjoyed last night’s show, how could she resist? They planned on going home Saturday morning, but why not extend the visit another day? She knew Cassie wouldn’t mind. “Sure. That would be great.”
Chad tried to figure out why he had called her. Why he had set an alarm to get up, so out of character for him, and call a woman he hardly knew. All he understood was her face, her eyes, swam before him all night. She was not like the women he was usually with, or more accurately, the girls. She had a self-confidence he found attractive, and at the same time, he sensed a vulnerability he was also drawn to. Like his frequent one-night stands, he could tell she was into him, but she still had the self-respect not to throw herself at him. She was witty and smart without having the edge those qualities sometimes gave people; her intelligence was tempered with a certain sweetness.
And all this you gathered from spending less than an hour with her in the same room, he chided himself. It couldn’t just be that she was gorgeous, now could it? Yet he knew there had to be some other reason he couldn’t get her out of his head.
“So,” he added subtly, “should I leave a ticket for your husband, too, or is he not a Trapped Under Ice fan?”
There was an awkward silence for several seconds, and he was about to kick himself for being such a bonehead until she spoke quietly. “I don’t know if you would say Paul was exactly a fan…but he grew to like you guys over time. He passed away three years ago.”
“Oh, Beth. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked—”
“No, no. In three years a person should...” She didn’t complete her thought. There was a strained silence while she presumably sought to control her emotions and Chad continued to berate himself. “Anyway,” she continued with what sounded like forced cheerfulness, “we’d love tickets.”
“Okay. And I want you to know, security will be heightened around here”—he had thought about this all night—“and I could have Pete pick you up and drive you if you’d like.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. Maybe I’ll see you Saturday then.”
Beth said goodbye and hung up the phone, staring at the ceiling. She almost jumped out of her skin when Cassie asked from the adjacent bed, “Was that Chad Evans?”
“I thought you were asleep.” Beth tried to still her heart and after a moment was able to reply evenly, “As a matter of fact, it was.”
Cassie sat up on one elbow. “Listen to you, all cool, calm, and collected. You’d think you’d been rubbing elbows with the rich and famous all your life. Like you’re not absolutely thrilled Chad Evans just called you.”
Beth giggled from her bed and launched a pillow in Cas’s direction. “You just be quiet, you.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The trip to the police station did not turn out to be nearly the ordeal Beth thought it would be. In fact, the officers were so efficient she and Cassie were in and out of there in less than thirty minutes. This gave the pair ample time for a relaxed lunch at Ted and Nancy’s, a restaurant in their hotel, before their preconcert practice. They changed after lunch and headed to the Old Cathedral, located just across the street.
The weather had turned decidedly colder overnight. Beth could feel the wind as it swirled around her legs and under her dress. She was actually glad for the choir robe she carried, as it offered some additional protection from it. As they waited at the stoplight, big, fat snowflakes began to fall from the sky.
“Boy, if that doesn’t make it feel like Christmas, I don’t know what will.”
“You’re right,” Cassie responded. The snow began falling thicker and faster.
Beth giggled as they hurried across the street. “It’s like being in your own personal snow globe.” She looked up and let the flakes pepper her hair and eyelashes. As she lowered her head, she took in the view of the Old Cathedral as it was nestled at the foot of the world-famous Gateway Arch. It was even more breathtaking than she remembered. In the midst of towering skyscrapers, it seemed to be in a time warp. Built around 1831, it had all the charm of a bygone era. Like something stolen right out of a lithograph, she thought.
Nudged by Cassie, she pulled her hood up against the cold and hurried forward.
“Brrrr.” Cassie shivered as the two stood stomping their high heels in the foyer of the church. Her voice echoed against the walls hollowly.
When Beth followed her through the heavy outer doors, the heady smell of pine boughs greeted her like an old friend. As they walked through the second set of doors, she lowered her hood and gazed around in wonder. The whole basilica was festooned with live wreaths, garland, and bright red bows. Unlike other churches, the windows were clear glass, but were no less majestic. The walls were a cream color with panels of pale blue, and the pewter light fixtures had an organic theme, decorated with either flowers or leaves. Instead of a three-dimensional cross, a huge mural of the Crucifixion was painted behind the otherwise plain altar.
“Right this way, ladies,” the older man who ran the choir called to them grumpily.
Beth tore her eyes from the architecture and hustled to take her place, along with a few other stragglers, as the organist began.
Two hours later, the church was packed as she stood to do her solo. Ordinarily she would have been petrified, but it helped she was singing one of her favorite carols, “Mary, Did You Know?” She squeezed her eyes together and began to sing, praying she wouldn’t end up crying like she always did when she listened to the lyrics. While she sang, the room was stilled. People stopped shifting in their crowded seats, coughs were hushed, and the only thing that seemed to exist for those few moments was her voice. Many of the listeners seemed moved by her singing, and as the last note hung in the air, she opened her eyes and let them travel across the room until they stopped abruptly at a figure she recognized.
Chad stood leaning against a column in the back, appearing mesmerized by her singing. She was so stunned to see him that she almost swallowed the last note, but she hung on and gratefully stepped back into her place among the others when the song was finished. The applause hadn’t abated when she turned back around to face the audience, and when she again searched, she saw him clapping with the others. He wore tan pa
nts and a dark brown leather jacket. Snow still glistened in his hair and on his shoulders, so he must have stepped in just in time to hear her song. She was thankful she did not spot Chad beforehand, or the butterflies in her stomach would have been ten times worse.
When the concert was over, she shook hands in haste with the people around her, then rushed to hang up her choir robe as the crusty old choir leader directed. Cassie, who also seemed to have spied Chad, offered to carry it for her. Beth headed down the long aisle to where the singer still stood at the back of the church. He let the others file past him and waited for her behind the last row.
She smiled up at him. “You came.”
He cleared his throat. “Yes. I wanted to see for myself how you were doing. How’s the bump on your head?”
She reached up to rub it without thinking as she responded. “It’s much bet—” She furrowed her brow. “How did you know I had a bump on my head? Did Cassie say something?”
“No, no. I noticed you holding your beer bottle against it last night, and wincing. May I?”
Before she could answer, he reached over and felt the back of her head. His nearness flustered her. He smelt fresh, like the outdoors. For a guy with big hands, his touch was surprisingly gentle.
His eyebrows came together. “Oooh. It’s still pretty big.”
“It’s actually gone down quite a bit.”
“Are you sure you shouldn’t have a doctor look at that?”
“Yeah. It’s just a bump. I never lost consciousness or threw up, so it’s not a concussion.”
He laughed. “You speak as if you know from experience.”
“Well, ten plus years with an athletic girl like Cassie, and you’re bound to pick up a few things in the E.R. Speaking of which”—she turned and spotted her daughter—“here comes my little angel now.”
TRAPPED UNDER ICE (ROCKING ROMANCE COLLECTION) Page 3