“You OK?” Grant asked.
She stood up straight. “Yeah, I’m just hungry. Is anyone else hungry?” She needed some air and she needed them to stay off Facebook.
“I’m hungrier than a bear waking up from hibernation,” Sissy said, standing up from her spot on her husband’s lap. “And I want to try me one of those grilled peanut butter and banana sandwiches that Elvis used to love.”
Clark stretched his legs out. “Well, I don’t know about hungry, but I sure could use a Bloody Mary. ’Cause you know, just like my daddy always told me, ‘Son, you can’t spend all day drinking . . . unless you start first thing in the morning.’ ”
Sissy giggled and swatted at his shoulder. “Your daddy was a teetotaler and never said any such thing.”
“Didn’t he? Well, somebody’s daddy said it. So let’s head down to the lounge.”
The meal was raucous, the conversation inappropriate, just as Delaney had come to expect from this group. These guys were fun, and funny—flirty for certain, but with such a Southern gentleman flair it made her snicker right along with them. Their overt attention toward her was harmless, but still flattering. Plus she was in a damn fine mood after last night. How could she not be? Grant seemed to be in a similar state of mind, and even now couldn’t manage to be next to her without there being some kind of physical contact between them. Yes, she needed to tell him the truth, but she’d worry about that later.
After everyone had finished eating, the Paradise Brothers and Sammy made short work of getting what they needed from the bus and setting up the stage. Besides their group, there were only a handful of people milling around in the Jungle Room Lounge. Even most of the Elvis impersonators had disappeared, probably to go back to their lives as accountants and dentists. Delaney excused herself to use the ladies’ room, and when she came back, Reggie was tuning some instruments. She wandered over to the stage and lightly tapped a few notes on the piano.
“You play, honeybun?” Reggie asked, glancing her way.
“A little.”
“I’m trying to tune some stuff. Want to give me a hand?” he asked.
She glanced over at Grant. He was sitting at the table with the rest of the group while Sissy told some animated story that involved much waving of her hands. Judging from his expression of consternation, it was either a very involved story, or he was just trying very hard not to stare at her cleavage. Delaney could hardly fault him if he had been staring at it. Sissy’s cleavage was spectacular.
“Sure, I can help you,” Delaney said to Reggie. She sat down on the piano bench and felt an eager tremble run through her. She hadn’t played in weeks. Add that to her list of things she missed about home.
She stroked a few keys, played a few more notes, and Reggie plunked a bass string.
“Can you give me an A?”
They worked together for a few minutes, her plunking, him tuning. “You know any songs?” he asked.
She sat up straighter. “I know lots of songs. Pick one.”
“‘Ode to Joy’?”
She looked over her shoulder and frowned at him. “Seriously? Everyone knows ‘Ode to Joy.’ Even people who don’t play piano know ‘Ode to Joy.’ I’ve got something better for you.”
She started playing one of her favorites, a song her dad had written but never recorded. She knew this one by heart, every note, and as soon as she’d struck the first note, she got all caught up in it, forgetting there was anyone else in the room. It was just her and the piano.
When she finished, the smattering of people in the lounge clapped, and she flushed all over with the heat of her stupidity. She’d let her ego get the best of her. So much for keeping a low profile.
Reggie stepped closer and leaned over the piano, his dark eyes gleaming. “You’re pretty good on that thing, honeybun.”
“Thanks.” She pulled her bangs down. Hiccup.
He flashed a Reggie-style grin and his eyebrows twitched. “In fact, watching you tickle those ivories is getting me a little aroused.”
She plunked a few sharp notes. “You sure know how to charm the ladies, don’t you?”
“I do, actually, but I’m just messing with you.” Still, he leaned forward even closer and lowered his voice. “But I gotta say, even though I’ve charmed a lot of ladies, and I do mean, a lot, I’m damn good with faces, and yours has been distracting me since the first moment you climbed on board our tour bus.”
All of a sudden, the oxygen felt a little thin in here. She stared down at the keys and started playing “Ode to Joy” just as a distraction. “Um, thank you, I guess?”
He chuckled. “Honestly, I’m not hitting on you. I mean, don’t get me wrong. You got that gorgeous face, and a rockin’ body. I can think of at least twenty-three things that I’d want to do to you.” He looked her up and down so blatantly she could only laugh, and yet, she already knew this was leading to no place she wanted to be.
“So, yeah,” he continued, “I’d have remembered you for sure if we’d gone horizontal, which is why I found myself so perplexed when you got on the bus. Now I’ve finally figured it out.”
A sensation of imminent doom made her fingers stumble and hit a wrong note. Dun-dun-dunnnn.
Reggie’s voice sank so low it was nearly coming from his chest, and he leaned so close she could smell his honky-tonk cologne.
“I know who you are.”
He said it so quietly she might have imagined it, but one look at his expression and she knew she’d heard him correctly. Still, she tried to deflect him. “I’m nobody special. Just Elaine.”
His eyes narrowed, that black-coffee stare nearly knocking her from the piano bench, but still he whispered. “You’re Delaney Masterson. You’re Jesse Masterson’s runaway daughter.”
At least he’d called her a runaway instead of a video star. She glanced toward Grant and saw him watching, scrutinizing. Her smile back at him was half-assed. She couldn’t fake this one. She looked at Reggie again to see where he intended to take this.
“Who else knows?” She began playing an Elvis song, or maybe it was Huey Lewis, or the Stones. Her brain wasn’t quite paying attention. Her fingers just moved from stress and habit. And “Ode to Joy” was just too damned ironic at the moment.
“Nobody knows, I don’t think. If they do, they haven’t said anything to me, but why the cloak-and-dagger? Why the alias?”
“Haven’t you seen the headlines? I’m in hiding from the press.”
“Well that much is obvious, but why are you hiding from the press? Who does that?”
Reggie was new at this, the whole fame game, and he was a man, so maybe he couldn’t understand the downside of notoriety.
“I’m hiding because my name is a punch line right now. I figured if I disappeared for a bit, the frenzy would die down, but I didn’t expect to leave my car behind for the police to find.”
Reggie nodded but still looked confused. “That’s where we came in, right?”
“Yes.” Her fingers continued to play but she hardly heard the notes.
Reggie scratched his head, making his wavy hair sway. “So I have to be honest here, sugar. I don’t pay much attention to celebrity news, unless it’s about me. In that case I’m fascinated, but you have some sort of reality show, right? So why was the press hounding you in the first place?”
She looked up at him. Was it possible—?
“Oh, wait . . .” he interrupted her brief speck of hope. “Was there a naughty bit of video?”
So much for that.
“Yep.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess maybe I did hear something about that. Weren’t you giving—”
“Yep.” She glanced over at Grant but Sissy had him distracted again.
Delaney lowered her voice and looked up at Reggie. “But I didn’t know about the camera. That’s the kind of stand-up
guy my old boyfriend was. Not only did he film us without telling me, but then he sold it to the tabloids.”
“What a douche bag!” Reggie exclaimed, then scowled and lowered his voice. “Worse than a douche bag. That guy is an ass-sucking douche bag. Can’t you go after him? I mean, legally. Or otherwise? I think Sammy might know some guys who could do a little damage to his kneecaps.”
Delaney had been giving that some thought. The legal aspect, not the physical injury aspect, although Melody’s offer to kick Boyd Hampton in the nuts was still very much on the table. “I may. I’m trying to sort out my options right now, but I got a little waylaid by this storm, and the fact that Grant’s mother sto—accidentally took my phone. She has my wallet and some other things too. It’s all just been one clusterfuck after the other ever since that video surfaced.”
“I’m sorry, honeybun. What does Captain America think of all this? He must want to fillet that SOB. I sure would.”
Delaney reached out and clutched Reggie’s wrist where it rested on the top of the piano. It was reflex, but she quickly pulled her hand back before Grant noticed. She leaned forward. “Reggie, Grant doesn’t know anything about . . . about anything. He doesn’t even know who I am.”
God, that sounded so awful when she said it out loud. She sounded like a horrible person. Oh, God. Was she a horrible person? How had that happened? Shit. She really should have told him by now.
Reggie’s dark eyes went round for a second, then a sassy smile took over his face. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me your boyfriend doesn’t know you’re Delaney Masterson? He doesn’t know your daddy is Jesse Masterson? And isn’t your momma somebody famous too? Victoria Secret or somebody like that?”
Breathe, Delaney. Just breathe.
“My mother was a model but now she makes soap. And Grant is not my boyfriend. We’re just sort of . . . well, traveling companions.”
“Traveling companions?” Reggie’s voice was flat disbelief wrapped around a stick of get-the-fuck-outta-here.
“Yes, traveling companions. Technically, he’s my landlord, but that’s another whole story.”
Laughter overtook Reggie and he collapsed over the top of the piano. Delaney’s misfortune was apparently of little consequence. Maybe she should be offended. Or maybe she should just laugh along with him. Really, it was either one or the other.
Reggie lifted his head. “He’s your landlord? Wow, I need to get me some rental properties right quick and find myself a honey like you,” he said between his chuffs of laughter.
Delaney shook her head and sighed. “There you go being all charming again.”
“Well, I’m a charming kind of guy, but sugar, if you think that dude is just your landlord, I will French kiss a baboon’s bright red ass because, let me tell you, that is a man in love.” He said the word love as if it had a dozen syllables, and Delaney flushed with both denial and hope.
She glanced Grant’s way. Sissy was still trying to engage him but now he seemed to be paying more attention to what was going on up on the stage. Delaney began playing another song, something from Coldplay, or maybe Maroon 5. Honestly, her brain wasn’t registering it. It was just all in her fingers.
She shook her head at Reggie. “He’s not in love. He can’t be. We hardly know each other. There hasn’t been enough time to fall in love.”
Reggie set his chin on one fisted hand, elbows on the piano. “Not enough time? How much time you think it takes, sugar? I can fall in love in fifteen minutes. Ten if I’m between sets.”
Delaney chuckled. “That’s not love, Reggie. That’s hardly even lust.”
His smile was broad as he tipped his head in agreement. “All right. You might have me on that, but trust me, sometimes a minute is all it takes if it’s the right one, and that guy is not kidding around with you. I’ve seen that look in a man’s eye before.”
She started playing “Love Me Tender,” as if her fingers wanted to help convince her brain that Reggie might be speaking some truth.
“What look?” she asked him.
“The one that says he’s about ready to come over here and kick my ass. He doesn’t like me. He thinks I’ve been flirting with you for the past three days.”
“Haven’t you been?”
“Hells, yeah, but that’s just me. I mean, I could fall in love with you, if you wanted me to, but it seems like you got enough going on right now. Plus I’d rather your fella didn’t go all King Kong on me and start ripping off my appendages, starting with my Little Reggie.”
Delaney might have laughed again, but her nerves were frayed. “I think you’re exaggerating, and I think you’re misreading this whole situation, but either way, please don’t tell anyone. I’m going to explain all this to him soon, very soon. Either tonight or tomorrow, but right now I have nothing but the clothes on my back and no way to get home. I have to get my wallet and stuff back. It’s complicated, but keep this secret for me and I’ll owe you. I promise. I’ll even introduce you to my dad if you want.”
Reggie scoffed at her. “Hey, I’d love to meet your dad, yeah? But you don’t have to worry about me keeping your dirty little secrets. I might not come across as a very reputable guy, but in spite of my voracious appetite for frisky women, I’m actually a pretty decent human being. You can trust me.”
Her stomach felt like a cement mixer. “Yeah, well, no offense, but the last guy who said you can trust me ended up getting me on film.”
“Douche bag,” Reggie said shaking his head, then he stood up and leaned away from the piano.
Delaney spotted Grant from the corner of her eye coming their way.
“Well, shucks,” Reggie said, chuckling. “Looks like I’ve exceeded my time limit, yeah? Here comes your landlord to open up a can of whup-ass, but he won’t get any details out of me. I promise. Secret to the grave, honeybun.” He kissed his fingertips and held them out in a vow.
A few more strides and Grant stepped up on the stage. He sat down on the piano bench next to Delaney. “You two look like you’re plotting something.” His smile was for her alone, but Reggie spoke up first.
“Just talking about monkey butts and movies we didn’t like, yeah?”
Grant’s gaze was still on Delaney. “Yeah?” he said.
“Yeah,” Delaney answered. “Reggie here is partial to kissing baboons.”
Grant smirked. “Well, I don’t know what any baboon might have done to deserve that, but if it keeps Reggie busy, I’m all for it.”
Reggie’s laugh was good-natured and Delaney started to relax once more. He’d keep her secret. There was no advantage in him telling anyone, and the offer of introducing the band to her dad had been genuine. That was a free spin in Reggie’s pocket and he was smart enough to keep it.
“Monkey business is just monkey business,” Reggie said. “But your lady here isn’t interested. Guess she’s not the girl I thought she was.”
Delaney shot him a look, but he winked at her and jumped off the stage. “Nope. Oh, and by the way, Clark landed us another free room, so you two will just have to make due in the Burning Love Suite without me and Finch.”
Now Grant looked over at Reggie. “Really?”
“Finch already moved our duds to the other room. You’re welcome.” He bowed, then turned and walked away.
“Is he serious?” Grant’s gaze was optimistic.
“I guess so. That’s the first I’ve heard of it, though.”
“Maybe we should go up there and check.” He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it and her heart went all fluttery again. It had been doing that all day. Maybe she should see a cardiologist. This could not be healthy. Neither was keeping secrets. If they went upstairs, she’d really have no choice but to tell him. He deserved the whole truth but the thought of giving up what they currently had was enough to make her cry, so she leaned over and kissed him, just to capture another m
oment.
She heard Reggie’s voice from across the room. “Damn it to hell, I have got to get me some rental property.”
Delaney giggled into the kiss, and Grant leaned back.
“Is he serious?” he asked.
“Is he ever?”
Grant looked ready to answer, but before he had the chance, his phone chimed in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked back at her, eyes intense.
“It’s my mom.”
Chapter 19
“HELLO?” GRANT CLEARED HIS THROAT.
“Grant? Oh, thank heavens. I’m so glad to get ahold of you.” The voice was breathless and a little frantic, but it wasn’t his mother.
“Aunt Tina?” he said. Stress jolted through all his joints, and he sat up straighter on the piano bench.
“Yes, it’s me. I think we need to talk.”
“Where are you?” Grant asked. “Is my mom with you?” He could hear noises from the other side of the call, like someone blubbering into a pillow.
“Yes, she is,” Tina said, “but something is wrong. She just listened to your phone messages, and now she’s hysterical and won’t tell me what’s going on. She’s just crying and crying and told me I should call you and tell you she’s sorry.”
She was sorry? For all this trouble? Sorry was so not going to cut it. “Put her on the phone, would you please?” His voice was terse, but he added the please because there was no sense getting testy with his aunt. It was quite possible she didn’t have any idea what was going on. Even if she did, he needed her cooperation.
Elaine looked over at him, concern etched all over her face. And no wonder. She was about to find out if her life savings was gone. The color had all but drained from her complexion.
Love Me Sweet (A Bell Harbor Novel) Page 19