by Sandy James
“Move in with me,” Brad blurted out. “You and Caroline. Come live here with me.”
Savannah’s blue eyes widened. “That’s really sweet, Brad, but…I haven’t changed my mind.”
He bristled. “Things are different now. Okay?”
“How are they different?”
For a moment, he closed his eyes and let his head drop back against the cushion. This love stuff wasn’t easy; talking about his feelings was even worse. Raising his head, he turned toward her and cupped her face in his hands. “I love you, Savannah. And I love your daughter. I want you both here with me. Every day. Will you at least think about it?”
Her eyes searched his before she nodded.
“Yes, you’ll move in?”
“Yes, I’ll think about it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
How about one more take on that?” Marie might’ve phrased it as a question, but Savannah had quickly learned the woman always got her way.
“Hurricane Marie” was right.
Her voice weary, Savannah nodded. A glance to the clock showed that they were closing in on midnight. She’d missed reading Caroline a bedtime story and tucking her in, which made her sad. But she reminded herself that marathon recording sessions wouldn’t happen all that often.
Marie—and Raul Martinez, the producer—were demanding, so Savannah sang her heart out. Thankfully she had the next two days off from Words & Music. Her voice would need all that time to recover.
Brad had been in the control room the whole time, even through the ten takes of the duet with Tony, four of which had been nothing more than chances to get the kid to loosen up. Before the fifth take, she’d finally told him a dirty joke, and that seemed to do the trick. When he’d started laughing, Brad had started frowning. Evidently he hadn’t gotten over his jealousy, but she found that not only quaint but reassuring.
He loved her. He really did.
The only time he’d come forward to bug Marie and Raul was when she’d done takes of his songs. Marie had allowed three of them even though Brad had written two others in the past handful of weeks. She’d insisted she wanted to save them for the next album. If there was a next album…Everything rode on the success of the tracks she was laying down now.
Taking sips of lukewarm honeyed tea, Savannah watched as Brad went to stand by Marie. From his rather animated gestures, he appeared to be disagreeing with her. Probably over the time, since he kept pointing at the clock behind them. Marie kept sipping a glass of wine she’d just poured and shaking her head.
She wasn’t the only one with alcohol. Other drinks were readily available in the friendly setting of the Allied recording studio. The backup musicians were all drinking. The odd thing was that the more whiskey they poured down their throats, the better they played. She preferred minimal accompaniment—a guitar or two, a keyboard, and Leah and Maggie. Marie had disagreed and had a full band in attendance to lay down tracks for each of the album’s songs. They all reeked of cigarette smoke and Jack Daniels.
Her thoughts drifted to the big change soon to come in her life. Her town house wouldn’t be her house much longer. Greg had presented her with the first advance from Allied—minus his commission, which he’d more than earned—and she’d immediately begun the search for a new home. A nicer home. Caroline deserved a great place with really good schools.
Savannah hadn’t mustered up the courage to tell Brad. He’d been so insistent that they move in with him. She’d have to break it to him soon, especially since the realtor Greg recommended had several places lined up for her to tour. Once that “For Sale” sign popped up in the front of her row house, he was sure to notice.
No matter how tempting it was to go ahead and accept Brad’s invitation and live with the man she loved in that gorgeous house, she just couldn’t. The words of acceptance wouldn’t come.
Why?
Because this isn’t forever…
Having made that mistake once—pitching her life in with a man’s—she wasn’t about to get burned again. It always ended disastrously. Brad wasn’t a guy who would ever settle down. Not permanently. Oh, he might play house with her for a while. A few years or so tops. She wasn’t about to put herself in the position to have him ask her to move out. Her heart couldn’t bear it, nor would she put Caroline through that kind of ordeal.
Better to keep a modicum of separation between them in the form of separate addresses.
Getting out of this relationship, which would eventually happen regardless of how much she loved him, wouldn’t wreck her whole life.
It would only break her heart.
“Ready?” Marie’s voice sounded in Savannah’s headphones.
Savannah nodded as the musicians set aside their drinks and started shuffling the pages on their music stands.
The song had a melancholy key and verses that spoke of love and loss. Her tumbling emotions were easily poured into this take, and when the music ended, tears stung her eyes.
* * *
Savannah patted her face dry and set the hand towel aside. Staring at her reflection, she sighed. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin was pasty.
She was exhausted.
Marie had kept her in the recording studio at Allied past two in the morning for three days running. At least tonight they’d wrapped up at ten, so Savannah was finally able to look forward to a good night’s sleep.
Flipping off the light, she headed to her bed and pulled back the sheets, only to hear the front door open and close. Even though they spent almost every night together—usually at her place—Brad had stayed at his house the last two nights. He’d evidently used the key she’d given him and decided to join her again.
Instead of going downstairs to greet him, she decided to wait for him in bed. After that first night, he hadn’t come to the recording sessions. He’d given her space to get the recordings done, telling her that his hovering was probably making her crazy.
She had to admit those evenings had gone smoother than the first time she’d sat in that booth, probably because she was able to focus on the music and not worry about Brad’s reaction to each and every little detail of her performance or the changes Marie made between takes.
When Savannah heard the typical creak of footsteps on the stairs, she had a moment of panic that it wasn’t Brad coming to her room. Instead, some serial killer was making his way through her house to come and murder her in some grisly manner.
Stop being silly. Of course it was Brad. She’d heard him arming his familiar car alarm. The frightening thought had merely been the same that probably plagued any woman living alone with a child who depended on her for safety.
“Savannah?”
“In bed, Brad.”
He breathed in sharply as he stepped into the room. “That sounds promising.”
“Probably not as promising as we’d like,” she said.
In the dark room, she could just make out his form as he whipped his shirt over his head, jerked off his boots, and then went to work on his pants. “What’s that mean?”
“I got my period.”
“Oh…” Having kicked aside his pants, he stood there in his briefs. “Then you’re not pregnant?”
There seemed to be a touch of sadness in his voice, which was totally unexpected. “I’m not pregnant.”
“I wondered…I mean, if you had been…” He came to stand next to the bed. “Never mind.”
She lifted the cover and patted the mattress. “Come to bed.”
After he slipped between the sheets, she rolled toward him, loving how he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer so she could snuggle against his warm body. “Would you have been mad?” she asked as she threw a leg over his thigh.
“You mean if you were pregnant?”
“Yeah.”
“No. Not mad.”
As usual, Brad answered her in an enigmatic tone. The problem was that she desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. “Did you want me to be preg
nant?”
He took a long time thinking it over. “Maybe…a little.”
Another surprise. “You want kids?” she asked.
“I hadn’t really thought about it before,” he replied.
“Did Katie—” Savannah stopped herself from asking the question crowding her thoughts. They’d agreed to leave the past in the past, but there was so much more she wanted to know about his marriage and his late wife—anything that could give her insight into the puzzling man.
He answered her anyway. “She didn’t want kids.”
“Did you?”
“Like I said, I hadn’t thought about it. She told me she didn’t want kids. Because of the lupus, she couldn’t have ’em anyway, so I let it drop and didn’t think about it again.”
As if things between a couple could be that simple.
He let out a yawn. “Since making love is out, we should get some sleep.”
Which meant the topic was closed. “Yeah. We could both use some rest.”
“Love you,” Brad said, kissing her forehead.
“I love you, too. With all my heart.”
* * *
Brad awoke with a start, a vivid dream still stuck in his head. Not since high school had such erotic images filled his mind…and his body. A moment later, he realized the dream had been born in the reality of Savannah’s sweet attention.
Lying facing him, she had her fingers wrapped around his cock as she gently stroked him. “You’re awake?” she whispered.
“Oh yeah…” Hard as rock, all he wanted to do was flip her on her back and make love to her. Then he remembered the obstacle to that plan and wondered what she was thinking by getting him so aroused. “Savannah, what—”
“Shh.” She released him and pushed his shoulders against the mattress. “Let me play.” Then she started to kiss her way down his body, licking each nipple before moving lower.
While it was probably stupid to argue with her, he couldn’t help but comment, “You don’t have to—” Whatever he’d been about to say scattered in his thoughts like autumn leaves in the wind when she took him into her hot, wet mouth.
Brad fisted his hands in the sheets, trying hard to hold on to his self-control. She was so giving, so thorough in her attention, that he could hold nothing back. The woman seemed to know how to keep him teetering on the edge of release and then ease back to allow him to catch his breath.
He’d always assumed she had limited sexual experience judging from how badly she’d been burned. A woman hurt that gravely tended to stay the hell away from men. The way she used her tongue, her teeth, had him so aching and full that he wondered if he’d been wrong.
No, his pleasure was not from how talented she was, although she was pretty damn good. His love for her made everything she did feel as if she was touching his soul.
When she finally granted him release, his climax consumed him. Only when his senses began to return did he worry that he’d given her the wrong impression. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. It was a sincere apology, although the orgasm had been beyond belief.
“Sorry?” Savannah frowned. “For what?”
“That was selfish of me.”
“Selfish?” She let out a chuckle. “I give you a blow job and that makes you selfish?”
“I can’t…you know…return the favor. Unless you want to wait a few minutes for me to bounce back and make love to you.”
Her frown returned. “You’d do that? Even with my period?”
“Of course I would.”
“I thought all guys hated that.”
He shrugged. “Evidently not all guys. Wouldn’t bother me.”
Leaning in, she brushed a kiss against his cheek. “That’s sweet, Brad. But no. I’d rather wait ’til it runs its course. You okay with that?”
Although he nodded, he was wide awake now and had no desire to go back to sleep. He’d stayed away from her for two long nights and had missed holding her. His bed had felt too big and far too empty.
“How did the sessions go?” he asked.
Flopping back against her pillow, she let out a loud sigh. “We’re done. Thank God.”
“Marie was finally satisfied?”
“For the most part. She said she might need me to come back in for a few ‘tweaks,’ as she called them. At least this was the last big night in the studio. I should be able to perform tomorrow.” A glance at the clock. “Today, actually.”
“I wasn’t asking because I worried about you being at the restaurant,” he said, thinking she’d misunderstood the motive behind his question. Sure, the crowds the last two nights were disappointed, but Brad had arranged for a couple of decent opening acts to fill in while she was away, and he’d thrown in free appetizers.
“I should’ve told Marie we needed to record on my days off,” she insisted.
“You did record on your days off. You just needed a little more time. It’s no big deal, love. I handled things at Words and Music.”
She turned her head to stare at him. “Is that why you weren’t at the studio? Because you needed to be at the restaurant?”
“Yeah, I was there. That, and in all honesty, I’ve been working on hunting down Michael.” A nervous chuckle slipped out. “Marie also drives me right up a tree.”
Eyes wide, Savannah sputtered. “But…but…why?”
“For Caroline,” he calmly replied. “And for you. Your daughter deserves nice things—books, dance lessons, whatever her sweet little heart desires.” He held up a hand to halt her when she tried to speak again. “I know you can pay for all that now, but the man has a responsibility he walked away from. Two responsibilities.”
“Have you found him?”
Brad shook his head. “When I do, you know that I would never do anything with the information except hand it over to you so you could decide what you wanted to do with it. I just want you to have the option to go after him—if you want it. I know that your relationship with Michael ended badly, so if you want some sort of closure, then I’d like to give that to you.”
It came as a nice surprise to discover that she trusted him, that she trusted his intentions. This wasn’t Brad trying to force his will on her; this was Brad giving her options to make her own choices.
“Thank you,” Savannah said. While she wasn’t positive that stirring up any hornet’s nest involving Michael would be wise, she was grateful in the ease developing in her relationship with Brad—a nice give-and-take.
“I love you,” she said.
He rose, picked up her hand, and kissed her palm. “I love you, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Joslynn shot Savannah one of her patented stern frowns—the type that probably kept unruly patients in line. “What do you mean you haven’t told him? You’re looking for a new house and you haven’t taken the time to mention it to your boyfriend?”
All Savannah did was grumble and stir her coffee. She’d asked Jos to meet her at Shamballa, their favorite coffeehouse, for a cup of brew and a friendly chat. Instead, she was getting a rather heated lecture.
“Look,” Joslynn said, “I know relationships aren’t exactly my…um…area of expertise, but I’d think making a major life change like searching for a house might be something that you’d want to discuss with the man in your life.”
Perhaps what Savannah had truly brought her friend here to do was to talk some sense into her. Because Jos was right—Savannah shouldn’t hide something so important from Brad.
A smile eased Joslynn’s features. “If I’m judging your expression correctly, you’re starting to see the light.”
Savannah nodded.
“So you’ll tell him?”
“I’ll tell him.”
After a curt nod, Joslynn sipped her coffee.
“He won’t be happy about it,” Savannah couldn’t help but point out.
“Why not? He’s the one who wanted you to be a star. I’d think he’d be happy for you that you’ve earned enough money to afford a nice place. This
is good for you. And for Caroline. Didn’t you say you were looking for a house with a pool for her?”
“He won’t be happy because he still wants us to move in with him.”
“Ah…and you told him no.”
“It’s too soon for us to live together,” Savannah insisted.
Jos held up a hand. “You don’t have to convince me. Shit, even if I ever got married—which is about as likely as a woman walking on Jupiter—I’d probably keep my own place. I can’t stand the idea of sharing a house with some guy who leaves the toilet seat up and kicks his shoes off wherever he wants.” She shuddered for effect.
Since Savannah was well aware of how fussy Joslynn was about her home, that revelation wasn’t a surprise. “You don’t let…what’s that doctor’s name, the one you’re dating?”
“Douglas.”
“You don’t let Douglas spend the night at your place?”
“Nope.” Joslynn let out a chuckle. “Besides, he’s not my boyfriend or anything. He’s just a booty call.”
Savannah let out a snort. “Any guy dating you is just a booty call.”
“What can I say?” Joslynn shrugged. “I like sex, and I enjoy my independence.”
In all the years the two of them had been friends, Savannah had never known the woman to even consider a serious relationship. Joslynn’s dealings with men were more typical of how a man might treat a woman—as an escort for an important event or as a convenient bed partner. Although she might date one guy for a while, she always broke it off if he tried to tie her down.
Savannah admired her friend’s adamant refusal to let her life revolve around a man, to take total charge of her own happiness. But at the same time, she wondered if Jos knew how much she was missing. Savannah had found such comfort in sharing her world with Brad. Although they might’ve had a rocky start, their relationship was now sailing along smoothly.