A Better Reason to Fall in Love

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “Well?” Emmy began, jabbing Tabby in the ribs with one elbow, “what do you think?”

  “I think this is my chance to run over to the gift shop and buy Jagger Brodie’s CD, that’s what I think,” Tabby whispered as she stood up.

  “No…I mean what do you think about your little Derrière-inator now? Are you ready to pursue him?” Emmy asked. “I mean, come on, Tabby—he’s perfect for you! He’s totally hot, totally charming, and totally a musician. Blues even! It’s like he was made for you.”

  Tabby smiled. “And every other woman in this room, Emmy. Look around. They’re all completely crushing on him.”

  “So?” Emmy said. “Get him to crush on you!”

  “Oh, yeah…like that will ever happen.” Tabby shook her head, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous suggestions Emmy sometimes made. “Will you stay here while I run to the gift shop? I don’t want to lose our seats.”

  Emmy sighed with exasperation. “Yes, I’ll stay here. But hurry.” Emmy frowned. “That guy next to us keeps staring at me, and I don’t want to sit here alone for too long, okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll hurry.”

  Tabby quickly glanced around. She didn’t really want Jagger Brodie to see her buying his CD. Once she was certain he was nowhere near, she headed toward the front of the restaurant and the little gift shop just to the left of the entrance.

  “Hi,” a young woman greeted as Tabby entered. The woman was folding T-shirts embroidered with small cypress trees and the words Sweet Genevieve’s.

  “Hi,” Tabby answered as she began to look around. She smiled, delighted by the little novelty items placed here and there. There were plush stuffed animal alligators, refrigerator magnets, something called “beignet mix,” T-shirts, and a small spin-rack loaded with CDs. The spin-rack was sitting on the counter near the register, and Tabby quickly began searching the CD titles.

  “He’s good, isn’t he?” the gift shop clerk said as she moved to the counter.

  “The performer?” Tabby asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Yeah. Jagger Brodie…as hot as the summer days are long,” the girl said, smiling.

  “He’s very good,” Tabby said. She felt the ridiculous heat of jealousy rising in her. The gift shop clerk was really pretty—dark-haired, dark-eyed, with skin like the smoothest milk chocolate. Tabby wondered how well she knew Jagger. She could well imagine Jagger’s finding this woman attractive. What man wouldn’t?

  “Do you know him?” Tabby asked.

  The young woman smiled. “I do,” the girl said. “He’s my distant cousin…but distant enough that I can still wish I knew him better…if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah…I know what you mean,” Tabby said, forcing a smile.

  “I mean, really…can you imagine kissing a mouth that can sing like that?” the woman whispered.

  Tabby shook her head, forcing another smile—even though she was pretty much astonished at the woman’s frankness. “Nope,” she managed.

  “You should get a couple of his CDs,” the woman said. “They’re great!”

  Tabby watched as the girl spun the CD rack. She quickly lifted two CDs off, handing them to Tabby.

  “These two are my personal favorites. You’ll love either one of them.”

  Tabby nodded. “Thanks. I’ll just get them both,” she said, handing them back to the woman.

  The gift shop clerk smiled, and Tabby wondered what it would be like to be so uniquely pretty.

  “Good choice,” the woman said.

  Tabby ran her debit card through the purchase machine, punched her pin number in with the stylus pen, and returned the debit card to her back pocket.

  The clerk put the two Jagger Brodie CDs in a brown paper bag with Sweet Genevieve’s printed on the outside and then handed the bag and a debit card receipt to her.

  “There you go. Enjoy!” the woman said.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re not actually buying one of that guy’s CDs, are you?”

  Tabby startled, gasping as she turned to see Jagger Brodie standing behind her. He was leaning against the gift shop doorframe, feet crossed, hands casually shoved in the front pockets of his jeans. Tabby felt the heat of a deep blush warm her cheeks. He looked as if some high-end fashion photographer had posed him there. Jagger Brodie was far too attractive for his own good—or hers.

  “Actually,” she said, dropping the receipt in the bag while smiling and feigning the appearance of calm, “I bought two.”

  Jagger sauntered forward and reached out, tugging at the edge of the bag to open as he peered inside.

  “You really did buy two,” he said, grinning a grin that caused Tabby’s knees to feel like pudding.

  Tabby shrugged, still feigning calm. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Jagger’s grin broadened to a smile as he said, “I would’ve given them to you for free, you know…or given you the download info for my site.”

  “You have a site?” Tabby asked, smiling.

  “Of course,” he said. “Though I’m pretty bad at maintaining the blog. Still, I could’ve given you the info to download those songs and saved you thirty bucks.”

  “Don’t you let your Maw Maw Genevieve hear you saying that, Jagger Brodie,” the pretty store clerk flirted. It was obvious, by the look of sheer admiration and almost panting delight in ogling him, that the store clerk really had a thing for Jagger. “You know she thinks you shouldn’t give so much away.”

  “It’s about the only way I can get people to listen to it, Delilah,” Jagger told the clerk. “You know that,” he added, winking at her.

  “I’m glad to pay for them. They’re worth it,” Tabby said, drawing Jagger’s attention away from the clerk and back to her. She didn’t like the way the woman was so openly flirting with him. It made her ears feel hot—made the back of her neck sizzle. “I like good music…especially good blues and jazz. It’s kind of hard to find these days.”

  “It is,” he agreed with a slow nod.

  Tabby smiled. Everything Jagger Brodie did was uniquely cool—even the way he nodded.

  “But you’re assuming these will be good,” he said, flicking the bag with his fingers.

  “I know they’ll be good,” Tabby told him. “You’re good live, aren’t you? And in my experience, if a band or musician is good live, then they certainly record well.”

  Jagger’s nearly seductive smile broadened. “You think I’m good?”

  “I wouldn’t have dropped thirty dollars on you if I didn’t,” Tabby giggled. She was proud of herself for maintaining an air of confidence—for in truth she thought she might melt into a puddle of sizzling longing right there at his feet.

  “Aw…maybe you just felt bad for me,” he teased.

  “I don’t feel bad for you,” she said, playfully smacking him on the arm with the back of her hand. “Mr. VIP by day and rock star by night.”

  Jagger chuckled, and Tabby’s heart leapt with delight at the sound.

  “Rock star?” he asked. “Hardly.”

  “Well, you don’t dress like this for work,” Tabby teased him. She reached out, plucking at one of the buttons on his sexy mod-western shirt.

  “Well, neither do you,” he said, tipping his head to one side and studying her from head to toe. Tabby liked the way his strong brows arched in apparent admiration. She was glad she had worn her skinny jeans and black ankle-strap heels—the tiger print top too.

  “Jagger,” Delilah interrupted from behind the counter. “Do you have the other merchandise your Aunt Addie asked you to bring in?”

  Jagger nodded, though he did not look at the clerk. He only continued to study Tabby. “It’s in my car. I’ll bring it in before I leave,” he said.

  “But Miss Addie wants—” Delilah began.

  “Excuse me, Delilah,” Jagger said, nodding to the flirty clerk as he took hold of Tabby’s arm. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Tabby was delighted by the way Jagger gently pushed her out of the gift
shop ahead of him.

  “She drives me nuts,” he mumbled under his breath. Tabby giggled, for she could well imagine the way the love-struck store clerk fawned over the gorgeous blues singer.

  “The hazards of being a rock star, I suppose—groupies,” Tabby teased in a whisper.

  “She can’t be a groupie. She’s my cousin…I think…somehow,” he stammered as a perplexed frown puckered his brow. “That would be weird.”

  “Distant cousin…the way I understand it,” Tabby told him. He was leading her to a more secluded space near the indoor water feature and pond. “And she is beautiful.”

  “Yeah, but I’m more interested in how two of the office Foxy Four ended up at my Maw Maw’s restaurant tonight,” Jagger said, turning Tabby to face him now that they were out of the line of restaurant traffic.

  Tabby shrugged and answered, “My parents came in last week and loved it. Emmy and I thought we’d just try it out…so here we are.”

  “I thought I was imagining you sitting there when I first saw you,” he said, smiling. “When I realized you really were there…it made me all nervous.”

  “Oh, right,” Tabby giggled.

  “I’m serious,” he assured her. “It freaks me out when people I know are around when I’m, you know, playing and all.”

  Tabby’s heart was hammering like the engines in a cruise ship. She couldn’t believe she was standing in a dimly lit corner of a restaurant talking face-to-face with Jagger Brodie!

  “Oh, I see,” she said. “What? You’re an old-fashioned guy?” she asked. “You just dress up like a sexy blues singer to throw people off your boy-next-door persona.”

  His smile broadened, and she saw a spark of mischief leap into his deep green eyes.

  “So you think I’m sexy?” he asked.

  Instantly, Tabby knew her face had just turned redder than her hair.

  “I-I think your outfit is sexy,” she stammered, trying to back-paddle her way out of sticking her foot in her mouth.

  “But it’s me in my outfit,” he said. He chuckled. “Are you saying that if you took my clothes off me and put them on…say…” Jagger glanced around the room. A man looking to be in his midsixties sporting a large tummy and long, stringy hair sat in one corner. “If you took my clothes off me and put them on that guy,” he continued, nodding toward the older man, “you’re saying you’d find him sexy instead?”

  “I-I…no…I-I…” Tabby stammered.

  “Oh, I see,” he said then, feigning an expression of having suddenly been struck by pure understanding. “It’s the clothes that make the man, huh? Is that why I’ve never turned your head at the office? I guess the business suit thing just doesn’t merit the attention of a sexy redhead like yourself.”

  Tabby was momentarily struck silent with astonishment. Had he just called her a sexy redhead? She recovered quickly, however.

  “That is not true,” Tabby corrected him, wagging a scolding index finger. “First of all, you look awesome in your suits. You turn everybody’s head, and you know it. Second of all…don’t try that sexy redhead thing on me, Mr. Brodie. You’re still a musician—a singer with a golden tongue—and I don’t buy it.”

  Tabby felt her arms ripple with goose bumps, however, as Jagger Brodie pulled a guitar pick out of his pocket and trailed it over her arm from her wrist to her elbow.

  “So I look better in my suits then?” he teased. “You think I should stick with sales and marketing…keep my day job?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant,” Tabby stammered. She’d done it again—revealed that she thought he was attractive when she hadn’t meant to. His demeanor was so altered! So very different from what it was at the office—so flirty and playful. She wasn’t quite sure how to take him.

  “I’m just teasing you, you know,” he told her then, “about my clothes and stuff anyway.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied her for a moment. “How come you never talk to me at the office?”

  “What?” she asked, entirely stunned by his question.

  “You never talk to me at the office,” he repeated. “How come?”

  The drummer in Jagger’s band tapped him on one shoulder as he passed behind him.

  “Five minutes, man,” the drummer said.

  “All right,” Jagger said, glancing back briefly.

  “Well, I guess you better get back,” Tabby said. She hoped he would leave—relieve her from having to answer his question about why she never spoke to him at the office. Yet, at the same time, she wanted him to keep her sequestered in the dim light of the restaurant forever.

  “You trying to get rid of me?” he teased.

  “No…I just don’t want to make you late and get you in trouble,” she answered.

  His smile broadened, his eyes glistening with mischief.

  “Oh, I’m sure you could get me in trouble, Miss Flanders,” he said. “But not for being late getting back to the band.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she giggled. She wasn’t precisely sure what his implication was—not exactly—but it caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach all the same.

  He chuckled. “You better get back to your seat, Foxy Four girl. You might find our next tune sort of interesting.”

  Placing the guitar pick he’d been holding between his two front teeth, he winked at her and said, “I’ll see you later,” then turned and headed back toward the stage.

  After a moment in which she lingered in watching him swagger away, Tabby returned (on very wobbly, weakened knees) to the table where Emmy was sitting.

  “What took you so long?” Emmy asked.

  “I…I bumped into our little rock star,” Tabby whispered.

  Emmy smiled. “Literally bumped into him? Like made physical contact?”

  “Well, no…but yeah…sort of,” Tabby answered. She sat down in her chair, her senses still swimming in the pleasure of having been in Jagger’s company.

  “Seriously…did he touch you?” Emmy asked.

  “Well, yeah, my arm. But what does that matter?”

  Emmy giggled. “It’s everything, Tabby! Do you know how much I would love to have Luke touch my arm right now?” Emmy’s smile softened to an almost wistful smile as she said, “He touched your arm. You ought to be on cloud nine.”

  “I am,” Tabby admitted, thinking of the way Jagger had trailed his guitar pick along her arm.

  “He’s back,” Emmy whispered as the audience began to applaud.

  “Thanks for letting us take that break,” Jagger said into the mike. “It’s amazing what can happen to a man in the space of fifteen minutes, isn’t it?”

  Several men in the room called out their agreement.

  “For instance,” Jagger continued as the bass player tuned a bit, “just in that fifteen minutes, I bumped into this sexy little redhead who’s here tonight. She puts a whole new spin on the phrase dead sexy…you know what I mean?”

  “No way!” Emmy exclaimed in a whisper as all the men in the room whistled and applauded their affirmation.

  Tabby felt her cheeks searing with a blush.

  “Anyway…y’all have heard the expression bad to the bone, right?” Jagger asked. The crowd mumbled agreements. “Well, this little redhead I bumped into, she’s what I’d call sexy to the bone…you know? I mean, I figure she’s got it going on so fine…even her bones are sexy. Do you know what I’m saying?”

  The crowd whooped and clapped, and Tabby was afraid she might explode from blushing so thoroughly.

  “Just bumped into him, huh?” Emmy giggled.

  “So…on that little fifteen-minute break we took…well, it inspired me to sing the blues,” Jagger announced. The crowd whistled and applauded as Jagger played a cliché five-note blues riff.

  “Y’all know how to sing the blues, right?” he asked. The crowd applauded their assurance as Jagger repeated the blues riff.

  “Good…’cause we’re gonna sing them for you now!” The band joined Jagger in repeating the five-note blue
s riff.

  “They say blondes is pretty,” Jagger sang. He played the five-note riff then continued, “And brunettes are fine,” he continued with another short riff. “But a bone sexy redhead,” he sang as the drummer beat out the familiar blues rhythm, “will ’bout blow any bad boy’s mind!” As the band stepped up into a full blues refrain, Jagger’s gravelly voice rasped, “I got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redhead blues.”

  Tabby was trembling with the mingled emotions of fear, embarrassment, and explosive elation.

  Emmy put her hands to her mouth and whistled her delight to the band as they slowed it to the five-note blues riff and continued, “A beauty that’s skin-deep…can inflict a sting…but beauty that’s bone-deep…keeps a man on a string. I got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redhead blues.”

  Tabby knew how singing the blues worked—the simple riffs in between lines of lyrics until the singer hit the guts of the song. Then the band ripped into playing during the so called chorus. This was the format Jagger was following as he sang the blues—as he sang the blues about Tabby!

  “She slipped on those skinny jeans that show off her legs,” Jagger rather mumbled into the mike. “And that foxy senorita’s…gonna make-a me beg! I got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redhead blues.”

  “She’s dressed like a tiger, blue eyes like a cat,” he sang. Then pointing straight to Tabby, Jagger growled, “Baby, you know ya own me, wearin’ something like that. I got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redhead blues!”

  “Whoo!” Emmy squealed as the crowd applauded and Jagger and his band continued to play the blues like Tabby had never imagined.

  “Those high-heeled shoes…sexy ankle straps…that bone-sexy redhead’s got me hooked in her trap! I got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redhead blues.” The band jammed for a moment before Jagger ended the song by singing an extra raspy round of, “I’ve got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redheaded blues!”