“I need your laundry.”
After a moment, the door opened a crack, and a pair of jeans, two shirts and a pair of socks was shoved through in silence. Equally quiet, Athena tweezed the articles of clothing between two fingers and dropped them into the duffel bag, grateful that Derek had never been a fan of wearing underwear. At least he didn’t berate her for her earlier treatment of him.
Ian and Robin were nicer about the process, placing their dirty clothes in the bag themselves, and Athena moved on to Paul’s room. He opened the door at her knock, but instead of bringing out laundry, he stepped into the hall and took her in his arms.
“Thank you for the sweet note,” he murmured into her hair.
“Oh! You’re welcome.” She recovered from her surprise at the unexpected hug, and leaned into him. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”
“No worries, love. We all get to the breaking point sometime. Yesterday was just your day.”
“I still shouldn’t have done it,” she said. “I also shouldn’t have jumped all over Derek in front of everyone.”
“He had it coming.”
“You think so?” She drew back and looked at him astonishment.
“I do.” Paul nodded. “He’s been acting like a right bastard to you since we were in Memphis, and it’s time you put a stop to it.”
An indelicate snort escaped her. “If you think I stopped anything, then you’re dead wrong. I think I just made him more determined to make me miserable.”
Brows arched, Paul shook his head. “If he keeps it up then I’ll have to step in. No matter what happened in the past, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”
“No, I’ll handle it,” Athena protested. “It’s my problem, I’ll take care of it.” The last thing in the world she wanted was to be the cause of tension within the band.
As she pulled out of Paul’s embrace, the strap of her purse caught on his elbow, and its contents spilled out onto the floor.
“Oh, crap,” she muttered, and bent to pick up the mess.
“Here, let me help.” Paul squatted next to her and began handing her keys, scraps of paper with notes scribbled on them, a comb, and other bits and pieces scattered on the hallway floor.
Absorbed in tracking down all her stuff, she didn’t notice when Paul stopped assisting. She did notice that he’d grown quiet, though, and glanced up in question. What she saw made her blood turn to ice.
The little photo book in his hands was opened to the picture Andi took at Christmas. Heads close together, Athena and Elizabeth smiled in front of the Christmas tree, and not one angle of Elizabeth’s face was obscured. In fact, she looked more like Derek in that photo than in any other that had ever been taken.
“Paul,” Athena whispered. She held out her hand for the book, but he moved it out of her reach.
“No wonder you’re so brassed off at him.” He cocked a brow her way. “He doesn’t know, then?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I’m going to tell him after the tour’s over.” She held out her hand again. “Please give it to me.”
Instead of handing over the book, Paul rose to his feet, his eyes still scanning the photograph. “God, she looks just like him.”
“I know that.” She shoved the rest of her junk into her purse and stood. “Give me my photo book.”
He closed it, and handed it to her. She crammed the little book into her purse before anyone else could come along and see it.
“Paul, please don’t tell anyone,” she pleaded. “It’s going to be hard enough for me to tell him, but he doesn’t deserve to find out from anyone else.”
“I won’t say anything, I promise. But, Athena…” He put a hand on either side of her face. “How did you…Why….What did…?”
“It’s complicated. I called him, and one of his sister’s friends answered and told me she was Derek’s fiancée, and…”
“What?” Paul exploded. He ducked his head and glanced around the hall. “I mean, what?” he repeated in a softer tone. “When was this?”
“October, right after I found out I was pregnant.” Hot tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away, furious at her propensity for crying at any emotional upheaval. “I shouldn’t have believed her, but I was already freaking about the baby and being so far away from him, so I just went with it.”
“Oh, my poor girl.” Paul hugged her tight again. “He was never engaged to marry anyone except you.” He cleared his throat. “It’s really not my place to say anything, but I don’t reckon he’s going to tell you, so I will. He lost his mind when you didn’t answer his letters. It got to the point where he thought something bad happened to you.”
“What do you mean, something bad?” Realization dawned, and she jerked out of his embrace. “Do you mean he thought I died?”
“You got it. He convinced himself of it, and nothing any of us said could change his mind.” One shoulder lifted in an apologetic shrug. “You know how he can get, jumping to conclusions and all. I didn’t know what happened to make you cut off contact, but I never believed you’d died. But Derek…”
She recalled the way Derek’s face had gone white when he saw her at Stax of Wax, and the unbelieving tone in which he’d whispered her name.
“No wonder he’s so cold to me,” she said, wincing. “I just thought he was pissed off because I believed Tina.”
“Yeah, seeing you in Memphis really flipped him out. I tried to talk to him, you know. Tell him, See? She’s not dead, mate, never was. But he closed right off, and started in on you. I don’t know; maybe he feels like a fool for coming up with such a far-fetched reason when the reality was that some idiot girl made up a lie about him and chased you off.”
Her lips tightened with a mixture of irritation and frustration. “So he’s going to take that out on me, too, I guess.”
“I don’t know, love.” Paul looked uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, you should. At least I know where he’s coming from now.” She bit her lip. “It’s good that you’re not playing tonight or tomorrow. I’m going to have to talk with him about this before I can even think about telling him about Elizabeth.”
“If you need anyone to back you up…”
Athena gave him a grateful smile, and patted his arm. “Thank you. But I have to do this myself.” She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath to settle her nerves. “Okay. Now, go get your laundry so we can wrap things up here, and get the hell out of Baton Rouge.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
After plugging in the portable radio in the bathroom, Derek sat it on the counter and spun the dial until he found a station broadcasting rock ‘n roll. The bathroom provided excellent acoustics, and he turned the volume up letting “Jackie Blue” by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils reverberate through the small room. Musical accompaniment attended to, he started the chore of neatening up his beard and moustache. He squinted into the mirror, glad to do something that demanded all his attention. Maybe it would drive Athena from his head for a few minutes.
In direct contradiction of this desire, he remembered the way she’d berated him on the plane, and a dull flush of anger reddened his cheeks. From the moment Simon and Paul announced that Athena would be taking over Richie’s duties, Derek knew it wouldn’t work. The way the argument on the plane escalated with such speed proved his point. There was too much anger simmering below the surface between them to allow a working relationship.
His face contorted into a tortured grimace as he worked on the moustache. Of course, anger could be controlled, and they might be able to overcome that. But not when anger was combined with all the other shit they carried with them. If they could jettison that, things might be okay. But as long as he woke up every morning looking into her wide grey eyes, forgetting for that brief moment that she was no longer his, that wasn’t going to happen.
How could he still want a woman who had played so ruthlessly with his heart, and then tossed him aside like a used candy wrappe
r? And just what the hell was she up to looking at him with that wistful yearning, like she still wanted him, too? Was she trying to prove she could still bring him to his knees? Fuck that; he wasn’t falling for it again. Sure, she’d been taken in by that little twat that his sister let run rampant through his flat, answering his phone and spreading lies. For the first time since hearing about what happened, he allowed himself to imagine how Athena must have felt hearing that he had acquired a fiancée less than two months after proposing to her. It probably felt the same way he did when he learned of Athena’s marriage.
Okay, fine. He flung the razor into the sink, and dampened a face cloth to wipe the remnants of shaving foam from his upper lip. So she honestly believed that he was the one who threw her aside back then. He could understand that, but the way she dealt with it was what he couldn’t take. Instead of trying to contact him and find out just what was going on, she’d run off and gotten married and had a child with the son of a bitch. The marriage he could overlook, but the fact that she gave birth to another man’s child while he, Derek, mooned around writing her letters like a pathetic imitation of Robert Browning enraged him. There would always be that connection with the child’s father, a connection he could never breach. While showing that photo around, she even said the little girl looked just like her father – and she sounded proud of that!
Jesus Christ, he was jealous. And stupid. Stupid because he would love like hell to knock her up that minute, to have her belly grow with his child, to forge that connection with her. It was bad enough before, but now that he’d burst into her room and seen her standing there wearing nothing but the briefest pair of panties he could ever remember seeing on a woman, he was in hell. The tearing desire to throw her to the nearest horizontal surface and bury himself inside her wasn’t what drove him crazy, though it was getting harder to ignore. No, it was the hurt on her face when she’d seen him with Ian’s girl. Yeah, he’d wanted to hurt her for reaming him out on the plane, but now he fucking hated himself for actually doing it.
The thought of the girl made him laugh, but there was no humor behind it. He hadn’t been with a girl since the day Athena joined the tour. What about that, ladies and gentlemen? The great stud guitar god Derek Marshall had taken up celibacy because he couldn’t think about any other woman but the one who broke his heart.
Why did he still have to love her?
Glaring at his reflection with disgust for being a weak, pitiable, pussy-whipped fool, he started in on his beard. On the radio, the deejay stopped reminding his listeners how fortunate they were to hear his voice until ten every morning, and got back to playing music. Led Zeppelin’s “Ten Years Gone” filled the bathroom, and for the first time Derek didn’t fixate on the guitar parts with the tinge of envy he always felt when he heard Page play. This time the lyrics were what got him, a wistful account of love lost and looking back to the way things used to be. The words punched him straight in the gut and twisted his already confused emotions into a knot.
“Fuck!” Caught up in the song, he’d allowed his attention to wander and his hand to slip. Snatching up the damp cloth, he pressed a corner to the nick just above his jaw line where it bloomed red as if by magic. The sting of shaving cream in the wound made him draw in his breath with a hiss as he pressed hard on the cut. Wonderful. Now he was going to have to spend the next half-hour with a bit of toilet paper stuck to his face like an adolescent just learning to shave.
Sighing, he lowered the cloth and leaned closer to the mirror. But what he saw wasn’t the blood welling from the tiny nick. He saw a man who was still in love with the woman who had broken his heart seven years ago, and still wanted her as much as he had back then. The thought of the rest of the tour filled him with a cold dread, the knowledge that she was so close at hand but so unreachable an almost palpable pain.
The next two weeks were going to be sheer hell.
*****
Fidgeting with impatience, Derek cast a glance out the van’s window at the lowering black clouds. He was ready to get to the airport, get in the air, and get to New Orleans. That way he could tick another day off the calendar and be that much closer to resuming a life that didn’t make him miserable every minute of the day. An added bonus was the two days off in New Orleans. With no shows to play, he planned to get the hell out of the hotel as much as he could to minimize his contact with Athena. New Orleans was a great city to get lost in, and getting lost was just what he needed.
He was gratified to hear the engine of the van in front of them fire up. If Athena and the road crew were ready to go, then it meant they could leave. And if Ian didn’t get in the band’s van quick they could just bloody well leave him behind.
The side door of the van slid open, and he looked up, ready to jab Ian a bit for being late. When he beheld Athena climbing in, he froze. What the hell? She always rode up front with the road crew. He cast a wild glance at the empty expanse of seat next to him, aware that it was the only place left for her to sit.
Her startled expression made it clear she had come to the same conclusion, and she paused, clearly conflicted. The next instant she was shoved forward as Ian attempted to get in the van. With an audible sigh, she sat down next to Derek, followed by their tardy drummer.
“Budge up, love.” Ian crowded onto the seat and pushed Athena almost in Derek’s lap. As she struggled to right herself, her hand brushed across his crotch, the fleeting contact sending a bolt of lightning through him.
The speed with which she removed her hand made it clear she was also aware of the unintentional touch. “Sorry,” she murmured, not looking at him.
“No sweat.” He bit down on his bottom lip, and forced himself to picture tuning a guitar to D A D D A D. Anything but thinking of her hand on him. Too bad his cock had a photographic memory.
“Athena!” Veronica squealed with joy from the back seat, and threw her arms around Athena’s neck. “You should ride with us every time.”
Derek shot a dark glance over his shoulder, but relented a little when he saw Robin and Cindy engaged in a marathon grope session next to Veronica. She was probably desperate for an intelligent female to talk to.
“Yeah, Simon suddenly acquired two new pieces of luggage and he gave them my seat in the other van,” Athena explained. “I think he’s just tired of me.”
“His loss,” declared Veronica, leaning back as the van pulled away from the motel.
Good God, how big was Ian, anyway? Derek glanced over, sure the man was occupying more than his fair share of the bench seat. Athena wasn’t that big a person, so why was she pressed up against him so tight he could almost feel her heart beating?
Desperate to minimize contact, he crossed his arms over his chest, but immediately realized his mistake when the back of his arm pressed against her breast. Tuning the guitar, tuning the guitar, tuning the guitar. Right; that didn’t help before, and it was even more useless when Athena squirmed next to him. She was probably just trying to move away, but only succeeded in rubbing her breast on his arm with a soft, delicious friction that set his fingertips tingling. Son of a….
He uncrossed his arms and pulled them tight in front of him. Without looking down he knew he looked like a right idiot. A few more uncomfortable adjustments and he admitted defeat. With a sigh, he stretched his arm along the seat back behind Athena, careful to keep his hand away from Ian. That wouldn’t do at all.
From behind him came a muffled snicker, and he turned his face to the window, determined to ignore Paul and his overactive imagination. Now that he was looking outside, he got concerned, enough to make him forget for a moment the feel of Athena’s shoulders against his arm. The clouds were increasing, and getting blacker and more ominous. Were they really going to attempt to fly in that?
With no warning, a jagged bolt of lightning shot from the clouds, so close that the resultant thunder boomed almost simultaneously. Instinct made him turn from the window to shield his face. His body jerked in surprise and his arm tightened, pulling
Athena hard against him.
The exclamations of alarm around him faded to insignificance as her clean, fresh scent filled his head, the odors of soap and shampoo masking but not hiding the warm woman beneath. It had been seven years since he’d smelled that particular fragrance, but he was sure he could still pick her out of a crowd while blindfolded. Hard on the heels of that thought was the memory of the way she tasted. Oh, Christ, why did he have to think of that?
Swallowing hard, he pulled back, but was surprised when she went with him. He looked down and frowned to see her huddled against him, her hands over her face.
“You okay?”
“We’re not going to fly in this storm, are we?”
Derek cast a cautious glance at the window; it was shaping up out there to be a bitch of a storm. “I’m not sure. But it’ll be all right.”
“No, it won’t,” she mumbled. “God, I can’t get on that stupid plane when it’s storming. It scares the hell out of me even when the weather’s clear.”
She wasn’t kidding. He could feel her trembling, and rubbed her arm. “Come on, now,” he said, interjecting a hint of laughter. “Is this the same girl who dreamed of being an airline hostess?”
“A jumbo jet is a whole other animal than that metal cigar we’ve been flying around in.” She shook her head against his chest. “I can’t get on that thing in a storm, Derek. I can’t.”
“Hey, angel, it’s okay.” His heart swelled with tenderness for his scared girl. “Nothing’s going to happen, do you hear me? I won’t let it.” Despite the warning bells going off in his head, he gathered her closer. “We’ll be fine.”
She relaxed against him with a small release of breath, and he closed his eyes, fighting against the urge to brush his lips through her hair, feel the warmth of her skin against his mouth. He still had enough brain cells in working order to remember that they were in a van with the members of his band who knew his and Athena’s history, and would be quick to make assumptions if he gave into his desire to just bloody feel for a moment that she was his again.
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