Gateway to Heaven

by BETH KERY

  Megan was such a novelty, though. Modern culture and things like hard rock bands just didn’t seem to touch her. He liked that.

  He hated to spoil it.

  He couldn’t keep it a secret forever, though. Megan was a resident of St. Catherine’s Parish. Surely she knew about the nationally renowned annual festival, even if she didn’t regularly attend. A rowdy, beer-drenched rock concert and Megan just didn’t seem to go together in his mind.

  He didn’t want to admit to himself that part of his hesitation about talking to her about his career with Lasher Down or asking her to attend the festival was his own dissatisfaction with the band. Or maybe it went even deeper than that. Part of him felt vulnerable at the thought of Megan experiencing what had creatively driven him at such a different stage of his life than the one he was in now.

  The rest of the evening at Emilio’s had been fun, listening to good music and chatting with Emilio, Megan, Seth, and Sarah. Christian had broken into laughter later when Emilio had come to the table and set a bottle of premium brandy down along with five glasses as the band wound up their final set. He suspected it was the brandy that was responsible for that small, wistful grin curving Megan’s lips as she rested her head on the backseat of the cab—so seductive without ever intending to be. He studied her, feeling the impact of that little smile like a kick to the gut…like a caress where it counted.

  “I think I’m drunk,” she murmured.

  “Good, because I’m planning on taking advantage of you,” Christian growled playfully as he kissed her exposed neck. He’d started jokingly, but he quickly became serious when her scent flooded his brain. Her sigh tickled the skin on his ear, making him shiver with excitement. Who knew that such a soft-spoken, innocent girl could get to him so deeply? But she did. He’d never seen a soul so exposed as Megan’s when he looked in her eyes.

  All he saw was beauty, and it stretched farther than he could see.

  “Seth and Sarah seem crazy about each other,” Megan said. “But they live in different cities. Isn’t their relationship serious?”

  His lips lingered on her throbbing pulse before he lifted his head reluctantly to speak. “It’s serious, all right, and completely nonexistent at the same time. There’s a pretty significant age difference. Seth has been wrestling with that for over a year now. Sarah is just finishing college and Emilio is as protective as a mother bear. Until tonight, Emilio wouldn’t let Seth come within fifty feet of her. Not that he needs to worry overly much. Seth thinks she’s too young, too. He’s hooked himself up to a heavy-duty restraining leash.”

  “That’s so sad.” Megan sat up. “How old is she?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “That’s not too young, is it? I’m only a few years older than that.”

  Christian sighed and rested his head back when he realized Megan wanted to talk, and that he wasn’t going to successfully coax her into making out in the back of the cab. “I don’t think he’s as concerned as much about the actual number of years as he is about her emotional readiness. He cares about her a lot.”

  “How long have you known him?” she asked as she sat up and leaned partially over him.

  He went very still when she lifted her finger and gently traced along his goatee. Kissing Megan was a delight, but having her come to him was…magic.

  “Fifteen years. I met him while we were in college, at DePaul,” he mumbled almost incoherently, not wanting to interrupt her ministrations on his mouth. He wondered if she knew how dreamy she looked.

  “What did you study in college?” Her fingers brushed across his chin and tentatively touched his lower lip. She outlined it softly.

  After a pause in which he tried to quiet the electric excitement buzzing in his body created from Megan’s touch, Christian answered gruffly. “Officially? English Literature. In reality, it was the unofficial study of music in every bar, theatre and club in the city.” The movement of his lips caused her finger to touch the inner heat of his mouth.

  Her eyes flickered up to meet his, as if to see if he’d noticed her intimate gesture.

  He’d noticed all right.

  He placed his hand over hers so that she wouldn’t remove her finger. She watched him as he used his teeth to scrape ever so gently against the pad and nail of her forefinger. She made a sexy sound in her throat and swayed closer to him. The tips of her breasts pressed against his chest. When she hesitated, Christian whispered—no, he entreated.

  “Don’t stop. Come here.”

  She came closer and kissed him. He forced himself to say immobile, loving her shy, sweet seduction of his mouth. Her kisses were light and airy at first. After a moment, though, she pressed closer to him and her mouth became more feverish. He restrained himself even when she licked at the seam of his closed lips with the tip of her red tongue, teasing him into opening. That sweet, furtive little caress made the blood pound in his veins. He lost all vestiges of control when she placed her slightly parted lips over his and created suction.

  He raised his hand to the back of her head and kissed her hard and deep.

  Neither of them registered when the cab stopped nor when the cab driver made a loud coughing noise. Megan broke their kiss when he cabdriver spoke drolly, “This is 748 West Adams. We’re not going to get any closer than this.”

  He was uncommonly pleased by Megan‘s flustered, happy, expression as she opened the door of the cab. She looked dazed and beautiful…and extremely well-kissed. He handed a bill to the cabdriver and got out after her. It took him a moment to realize Megan had frozen on the sidewalk and was staring at a man and a woman who stood in front of their building.

  “Hilary. Terry. What are you doing here?” Megan asked the couple tensely, all traces of her heady expression vanished. “It’s not Emily, is it? Is something wrong?”

  The woman hurried over to her. Christian noticed she gave him an angry, suspicious glance.

  “There’s nothing wrong with Emily. She’s at Mom’s. It’s you I was worried about. Where have you been?” her aquamarine eyes traveled over Megan’s face, as if searching for bruises. “Why are you dressed like that? Have you been drinking?”

  “Yes, some wine. We were at a blues club downtown. Christian Lasher, this is my sister Hilary and my brother-in-law Terry Molloy.” Christian gave a warm greeting and shook Terry’s hand. He dropped his outstretched arm when he saw Hilary’s hostile expression.

  “Emily mentioned she’d spent time with you, Christian. I was surprised to hear it, since I hadn’t heard about it from anyone else.” Even though Hilary was ostensibly speaking to Christian, her accusatory stare was for Megan.

  Megan blanched. Christian hated seeing her discomposure. He spoke quickly because Megan looked like she was ready to apologize. For some reason, the idea of watching Megan apologize for anything offended him on a bone deep level.

  “Did Emily say she had a good time?” he asked Hilary.

  “Yes,” Hilary was forced to admit.

  “I’m glad. She’s a smart, fun little girl. You must be very proud of her.”

  Terry murmured his thanks for the compliment, but Hilary looked furious at his intrusion. She grasped her sister’s upper arm. “Megan, we need to talk to you. Now. Privately.”

  “Hilary,” Megan murmured in embarrassment. “Christian and I were…”

  Hilary drew herself up to her full, “big sister” height, which was maybe one and a half inches taller than Megan’s. He could easily see the physical similarities between the two women, although Hilary looked like she was closer to his age than Megan’s. She was undoubtedly a beautiful woman, but that bitchy expression she was wearing effectively cancelled out any charm she might have.

  “I could see what you and Christian were doing. So could Terry, the cabdriver and just anybody else who walked along here.”

  Christian couldn’t restrain a disbelieving bark of laughter at Hilary’s sanctimonious attitude. “Lighten up, Hilary. No crime has been committed. Haven’t you and Terry eve
r kissed in the back of a cab?”

  He knew he hadn’t endeared himself to Megan’s sister when her mouth fell open in angry disbelief. He thought he might have scored some unintentional points with Terry though, when he saw Megan’s brother-in-law raise his hand to cover a smile.

  “That’s none of your business,” Hilary replied hotly. “You obviously don’t know anything about Megan. She doesn’t drink excessively. She doesn’t like blues music, and she certainly doesn’t like the kind of music you play.”

  Christian’s expression hardened. “I would think Megan is fully capable of deciding what she does and doesn’t like.”

  Megan raised a shaky hand to her forehead. Her tone was resolute. “Please, both of you. Stop it. This is ridiculous.”

  Hilary looked at her sister with sharp concern. “Come inside. I’ll make you some tea.”

  Megan glanced up at Christian uncomfortably. He held her gaze. Clearly, the evening wasn’t ending in the way that either of them had expected. “I’m sorry, Christian.”

  “Don’t be. I had a great time.”

  “Me, too,” she replied sincerely. The apology in her eyes made him feel like clobbering Hilary. He kept his feet planted with hard effort when Hilary herded Megan toward the door.

  “Megan?”

  She looked back.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He kept his gaze fixed on Megan, but he would have had to be stone blind to miss Hilary’s scowl of disapproval.

  * * * *

  Megan spun around the second Terry closed her condominium door.

  “Hilary, I can’t believe you acted like that. You totally embarrassed me in front of Christian,” she said. When she saw her sister’s anxious expression, however, her fury seemed to melt out of her. Exhaustion took its place. She sagged down into one of her dining room chairs. The last thing she felt like doing at this minute was arguing with her sister.

  “I can’t believe the way you’re acting, Megan. Why would you be spending time with a guy like that?”

  “Because I happen to like him,” Megan said indignantly.

  Hilary changed tactics as she sat down at the table next to Megan. Her voice became soothing. “A man like that doesn’t think about relationships in the same way that you would, Meg. He’s only out for his own gratification and he’s not going to give a damn if you get hurt along the way. He doesn’t even live here in Chicago.” Megan started in surprise. When Hilary noticed, she pushed her point home. “He didn’t even tell you, did he? He only lives in that penthouse for about a month out of the year.”

  Megan refused to let Hilary know how much her words hurt. Christian wasn’t even a permanent resident here? “How do you know so much about him?”

  “Tons of people in the neighborhood know about him. He’s our resident celebrity.” She sighed when she saw Megan’s bewilderment. “I know you prefer a book to television or Hollywood gossip, so I can easily believe that you would never have heard of Christian Lasher. What I can’t believe is that a man like Lasher didn’t brag about how famous he is—or infamous, as the case may be—even if he likely did delete the parts about his host of love-affairs with string of starlets and models, each of which lasts for about the duration of a TV sitcom,” Hilary remarked scathingly.

  Megan stood abruptly, knocking the table with her thighs. Terry started back in surprise. Her sister’s news had struck her like an unexpected blow. “I’m really tired, Hilary. I’m going to bed.”

  Hilary shared a worried look with her husband. “I’m sorry if what I said hurt you Megan. But it’s better you should know the truth now, instead of later, when it would be much more painful for you,” Hilary said softly. “You’re not like him.”

  Her ears rang in the silence as she recalled saying something similar to Christian last Saturday. She didn’t know if what Hilary said clarified his enigmatic statement or made it even more confusing. “Maybe I’m not like him. But I’m not as different from him as you and Terry and Mom and half of the people in St. Cat’s Parish would probably think, either. Don’t you think it’s time we stopped letting Henry Nightingale determine my identity? I’m not a victim, Hilary.”

  Megan ignored her sister’s look of stunned bewilderment and kissed her on the cheek. She walked to her front door.

  “Give Emily a kiss for me,” she said as she opened the door and stood beside it with calm determination. Hilary and Terry had little choice but to say goodnight and file past her.

  Her posture sagged when she was alone at last. Hilary’s harsh words buzzed in her mind like a dangerous insect. She hadn’t felt confident enough to defend Christian and that bothered her more than anything. Had she not defended him because part of her believed in the probability of at least some of Hilary’s accusations? Not the part that he was a braggart or that his previous love affairs lasted for a half hour.

  Wasn’t that about the period of time it took to have sex? Megan groaned when she finally recognized the level of promiscuity of which Hilary was accusing Christian.

  “She’s bluffing,” Megan muttered to herself. She got out of her clothes, put on a short cotton nightgown, brushed her teeth and washed her face before she climbed wearily into bed. There was no way that Hilary could reliably know those things.

  There was little doubt that Hilary would go to extremes to protect Megan. She’d done it for the better part of their childhood—ever since Nightingale Daycare, ever since Henry Nightingale. In other words, ever since before Megan had consistent memories. Hilary certainly didn’t show signs of stopping now that Megan was twenty-six years old.

  Still, she’d seemed entirely confident when she made the remark about Christian not even living in Chicago.

  She turned restlessly in bed. Images of the intimacy she’d shared with Christian over the past week playing across her mind’s eye, haunting her. Would he really say such tender things to her and touch her with something close to reverence when he planned to leave Chicago in a few weeks, or even a few days?

  “Of course he would, you fool,” she murmured into the darkness. Hilary was right about one thing. She and Christian undoubtedly were oceans apart in their understanding and expectations regarding sex.

  She heard Christian’s exasperated voice in her mind. Christ, Megan, you do know about boy meets girl, right?

  She smiled sadly into her pillow. Maybe that was the problem. She really didn’t know much about “boy meets girl”. She’d been spoon-fed “boy hurts girl” since she was three years old. She instinctively knew that Christian was incapable of that kind of hurt.

  Heartbreak was different. Megan was achingly aware that Christian had the potential to cause her that kind of pain.

  * * * * *

  Christian checked his cell phone and irritably tossed it onto his made bed. He pulled a clean T-shirt out of his bureau and shrugged it on.

  Seth and he had just finished up with an intensely productive writing session. He was excited that he’d finally persuaded Seth about the new direction he wanted to take their music. The other guys in Lasher Down weren’t likely going to agree, but Christian was resolved to that and all the other flack that was going to hit when he broke up a five-time Grammy-Award winning band just when most critics said that they were at the pinnacle of their talent and creativity.

  Seth was the one Christian cared the most about, the only one that would have had the power to make him stay put in his career. Megan had been right. Figuring out a compromise had been worth it. Not only was Seth the most talented musician he knew, he loved him like a brother. Leaving Lasher Down without him would have seemed like a betrayal, not to mention downright selfish on Christian’s part.

  He knew that Seth’s style would be perfect for the amalgamation of blues and rock that he had in mind for his new band. In fact, Seth’s unique talent was largely the inspiration for the music that was suddenly cascading through his mind, flowing through his fingers and surging in his throat.

  It felt good to be alive again, creatively speaking.<
br />
  His eyes went back to the phone on his bed. He’d tried to call Megan three times since Seth had left two hours ago. He was feeling as energetic and wired up as a teenaged boy.

  A minute later, he tapped his hands impatiently on the granite surround of the doorman’s station. “Hey, Jeff, does Megan teach today?”

  Jeff nodded. “Over at St. Cat’s.” The balding doorman checked his watch. “Kids get out in five minutes. You pumped about the block party next week?”

  “Yeah, the tradition continues. Do you want tickets?” Christian asked, turning around in his charge out the front doors.

  “I’m all set, but thanks. Later, Chris.”

  Christian waved a salute and left the building. He hadn’t been completely lying when he said he was excited about the St. Cat’s block party. Lasher Down had been the headliner at St. Cat’s traditional rock festival for the past eight years. Christian did it mostly as a favor to Father Gregory and the people of the parish, but St. Cat’s was also a respectable venue, attracting popular bands and an audience from across the country. At least he wasn’t dreading performing some of Lasher Down’s old stuff now that he felt like such stimulating prospects were opening up for the future.

  One of those stimulating prospects stepped out onto the St. Cat’s steps a few minutes later, listening earnestly to one of her students. Christian hid a smirk at the eagerness in the little boy’s face as he stared up at Megan. He’d always been amazed when his male friends talked about crushes on elementary school teachers. The only image that came to his mind was that of Sister Elizabeth’s hulking body and ever present scowl.

  Of course, if he’d had a schoolteacher as pretty as Megan, that would have been entirely different.

  He smiled when she suddenly looked directly over at him and gave a small wave. Yep, it was definitely a good thing that he wasn’t in little Romeo’s Nikes. Christian wasn’t a personal fan of unconsummated, hopeless love affairs. Even if he and Megan hadn’t consummated anything at least things were far from hopeless.