Secret Vows (Hideaway (Kimani))

by Alers, Rochelle

  Bobby’s blue eyes sparkled when he smiled. “I’m certain he’ll be glad to hear that.”

  “I hope I’m not making a mistake, Uncle Bobby. Singing on stage in front of an audience makes me more conspicuous than waiting tables.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. When I saw footage of you being rounded up with those others, I couldn’t recognize you,” Bobby said sotto voce. “Between the weight, hair, contacts—and what the hell you did to give yourself the nastiest overbite I’d ever seen on a woman—your change in appearance was ingenious.”

  Greer laughed under her breath. A technician had fashioned a dental prosthesis she could slip on over her own teeth to make her the poster child for acute orthodontia care. “The only thing I could eat with those choppers was burgers and fries, and that’s why I blew up like a blimp.”

  “At least it didn’t take you that long to lose it.” Bobby patted his belly. “This time next year I hope to be lean and mean.”

  Tilting her head, Greer met the winking blue eyes. “You’re already mean.”

  “That’s only for show. The only time I lose it is when someone messes with you.”

  “You know I can take of myself.”

  After a childhood and her teen years spent on homework, piano, ballet and karate lessons, Greer was more than ready to spend the summer months in Mission Grove. She’d excelled in karate and earned her black belt the year she turned sixteen. Although she no longer competed, she’d continued to train with a karate master up until she became a special agent.

  “I know you can, but it would look better if I kicked a dude’s ass than if you did. If men know that a woman can put a hurtin’ on them, then they’ll avoid them like the plague.”

  “That’s not such a bad idea.”

  “Come on, Greer. You can’t let one idiot turn you off on the entire male gender.”

  Greer wondered what had gotten into her uncle where he insisted on talking about her and other men. He was like a dog with a bone, refusing to let it go. “I’m not turned off. I’m just not willing to walk down that road again.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t want to get married again and have children?”

  “I would like to have a child, but I don’t have to be married.”

  Bobby patted his bald pate. “Please don’t tell me that you’re going to be one of those women who claim she can raise a child on her own?”

  “Women do it every day.”

  “And that’s why kids are so screwed up nowadays. It is one thing if a father or mother is widowed, but it’s entirely different when women absolve men of their responsibility for raising their son or daughter. I don’t care what Larry Hill tried to do to you, you still came out the winner. And if you let him sour you on men, then he’s won. Is that what you want, Greer?”

  “No. It’s not want I want, Uncle Bobby.”

  “Good. Now maybe you’ll take some time off and have a little fun.”

  “What do you call fun?”

  “Flirt. Dance. When someone asks to take you to the movies, you say yes instead of giving them the screw face.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Don’t try, honey bunny. Just do it.”

  “I better go and see who needs more liquid refreshment.”

  The band had taken a break, and Greer approached a table asking if anyone wanted something from the bar. She took several orders, headed in the direction of the bar when she came face-to-face with Jason. He’d shaved and was dressed entirely in black.

  “You were great,” she said softly.

  Jason inclined his head. “Thanks. It feels good to play in front of an audience.”

  “I’m going to the bar. Would you like something? There’s no charge for band members.”

  He wanted to tell Greer what he wanted wasn’t at the bar. He wanted to spend more time with her. Everything about her had lingered even hours after he’d taken her home. The scent of her perfume on the sofa in the bedroom’s antechamber, the sound of her voice he could recall in vivid clarity and the silken feel of her skin whenever he had touched her.

  Jason had told himself he’d come to Oregon to write new music and not become involved with a woman. Especially not one who lived so far away from his home base. His relationships with women who lived in Florida hadn’t worked out, and there was no reason for him to believe he could maintain one with a woman living thirty-three-hundred miles away.

  And if he were truly honest with himself, Jason would have to admit it wasn’t merely Greer’s voice that had initially attracted him to her. It was the whole package—face, body, voice and the spunk she’d shown when the man at Stella’s had sought to grope her. It was obvious Greer was confident enough to stand up for herself.

  He smiled. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m drinking water tonight. May I ask you something?”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Do you have any days off?”

  She angled her head. “Yes. I’m off on Mondays.”

  He leaned closer, his mouth pressed to her ear. “What are you doing Monday night?”

  Greer closed her eyes. Jason smelled so good she likened him to a decadent dessert that she wanted to savor for hours instead of minutes. Pinpoints of heat pricked her cheeks when she realized her thoughts had taken an erotic route.

  “I don’t have anything planned. Why?”

  “I’d like you to go out with me.”

  She went completely still. “Out, as in a date?” she whispered.

  “Yes. What time can I pick you up?”

  “Hey, Mr. Piano Man. Stop flirting with the lady waitress, and let her bring us our drinks!” shouted a man at the table where Greer had taken orders. Heads turned, necks craned and an eerie silence descended on the restaurant like a shroud. The sound of pool balls connecting echoed abnormally loud in the quiet.

  Jason stood up straight, an arm going protectively around Greer’s waist. “You should have more respect for yourself to know when you’ve had too much to drink.” The man half rose from his chair. “Don’t do it.” Jason’s warning, though spoken softly, carried easily across the space, and the two men flanking the obviously inebriated man pulled him back to sit.

  Greer felt the tension in Jason’s arm as he stood his ground. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation. Occasionally when someone couldn’t handle their alcohol, an argument would ensue, but between Bobby and Pepper, they were able to stop it before it escalated into something physical.

  The crowd parted when Pepper walked over, while Bobby came from the opposite direction. “What’s up?” asked the bartender.

  “What the hell is going on?” Bobby shouted.

  “Marvin’s upset ’cause that guy’s flirting with Greer,” volunteered one of the men who’d stopped his friend from doing something he would regret. He pointed to Jason, who had a six-inch height advantage and was at least twenty years younger than Marvin.

  Bobby rested his fists at his sides. He saw Jason with his arm around Greer’s waist. “Who she flirts with is her business. And you know what I’ve said over and over about disrespecting my niece. You dodged a bullet tonight, Marvin, because it’s obvious you’ve had too much to drink. You guys better take him home before I call the sheriff and have him thrown in jail for disorderly conduct. And, Marvin, the next time you come in here, you will have a two-drink limit, or you will not be served at all. Don’t worry about the tab,” he continued when one of the men reached into his pocket to pay for their drinks. “Now get him out of here.”

  Waiting until the trio left, Pepper nodded to Bobby. The bartender held up his hands to the rest of the diners. “Sorry for the interruption, but the next round is on the house.”

  Greer felt herself relax against Jason. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been. The drawback of working
in an establishment selling alcohol was the risk of serving someone with a low tolerance. Pepper usually monitored the number of drinks he served to any particular person at the bar but it was different with table service.

  Jason dropped his arm. “Are you all right?”

  She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “I’m good. How about you?”

  “I’m okay.” He would’ve been better if the scene hadn’t occurred. What, he mused, was there about Greer that brought out the worst in some men? He’d watched her while he was on stage and, at no time, had he observed her flirting or being overly friendly with any of the male patrons. Although he’d never been involved in a bar fight, Jason knew he wouldn’t back down if confronted.

  Greer patted his shoulder. “Thanks for sticking up for me. I’ll see you later.”

  The rest of the night went smoothly for Greer. She got word to Doug that she would sing with the band, but no more than two songs each night, and he would have to let her know when and where they would rehearse. The members of the band had packed up their instruments and sound equipment, Danny was stacking chairs in a corner, when Jason walked over to where she and Bobby sat.

  “May I sit down?” he asked.

  Bobby waved a hand. “Of course.”

  Greer noticed he’d slipped on a black leather jacket over his cotton sweater. Light from the overhead slanted across his face, and she caught her breath. He’d become a bust of black and gold. His short raven hair shimmered like a sleek fur pelt. Initially she had thought the flecks of gold in his large brown eyes were similar to tortoiseshell, but upon closer inspection, they were more similar to polished amber.

  Placing his hands on the table, Jason gave Bobby a long penetrating stare. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I never would do anything to put Greer’s reputation at risk.”

  Bobby covered one of Jason’s long slender hands with his much larger one. “Come on, son. You did nothing wrong. If you’d thumped his ass, I would’ve extended you complimentary food and drinks for a year.”

  Jason looked directly at Greer. “I’m not one for violence, but I won’t walk away if I feel threatened.”

  Bobby removed his hand, picking up the snifter filled with Jack Daniels. “I like you, Cole. There’s something about you that reminds me of myself back in the day. I wouldn’t let anyone look at my woman wrong or I’d—”

  “I’m not Jason’s woman, Uncle Bobby,” Greer said in protest.

  Bobby took a sip of his drink, then blew out a breath. “Either Mr. Daniels is getting stronger or I’m getting too old to drink the hard stuff.” He gestured to Jason. “Can Pepper get you something from the bar before he closes down completely?”

  “No thanks. I have to drive home.”

  “Good for you. Now I know I can trust you with Greer. You have my permission to ask her out.”

  Attractive slashes appeared in Jason’s lean cheeks when he smiled. “You’re a little late because I’ve already asked her out.”

  “And what did she say, son?”

  Jason’s smile grew wider. “She didn’t say no.”

  “Bobby! Jason! Don’t y’all talk about me as if I’m not here.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Jason winked at Greer. “You can join the conversation at any time you want.”

  “Hey, Cole!” Doug shouted. “We’re going into Portland to visit a few clubs. You coming?”

  Jason shook his head. “Nah. I’m going to hang out here for a while.”

  “Next time maybe. And thanks, Greer, for agreeing to sing with us.”

  She smiled. “No problem.”

  It was no problem when Jason had just told Bobby their business. She didn’t have a curfew or need to report her whereabouts to her uncle, but she didn’t want to advertise that she had a date. Pushing back her chair, she stood up. “Tonight I think I’m going to have something stronger than coffee.”

  Jason popped up. “What do you want? I’ll get it for you.”

  “I don’t know what I want until I get there. What are you doing?” She practically hissed at him when he followed her.

  “Getting something from the bar.” She stopped and he bumped into her, his hands going to her shoulders. “Careful, darling. I wouldn’t want you to fall on that beautiful face.”

  “I’m not your darling just because I agreed to go out with you.”

  “You deserve to be a man’s darling.”

  Turning slowly she faced him. There was an arrogant tilt to her chin. “What if I was your darling, Jason? What could I expect from you?”

  Jason studied the delicate face with the wide-set eyes, stubborn little chin and nose that turned up slightly at the end. “You would never want for anything.”

  “I’m not talking about material things.”

  “If I were in love with you, then I would protect you at the risk of giving up my own life. And if you loved me enough to marry me, then I would spend the rest of my life making you as happy as I’m certain you’d make me. My family would become your family and your family mine. Our children would be heirs to a dynasty that spans generations. A dynasty that is ever expanding to even greater heights than what my grandfather could or would have ever dreamed. Does that answer your question, darling?”

  Greer felt as if the very oxygen had been sucked out of her lungs. Self-confidence radiated off Jason in waves she couldn’t see but feel. Was it because he was that certain of his rightful place in the world? He’d been born into wealth, did not have to concern himself about what he wanted to do or be. When his father had relinquished control of his company, Jason had taken his place in what had been a smooth and uneventful transition.

  “Yes it does, dah-lin’.”

  Taking her hand, Jason led her to the bar where Pepper was busy stacking empty bottles in plastic crates. “You sound just like a Southern girl.”

  “That’s because I am a Southern girl.”

  “It looks as if I have to get to know you better.”

  Pepper stopped what he was doing and approached them. “What can I get for you folks?”

  Jason bowed low. “Ladies first.”

  She studied the bottles. “I’ll have a martini.”

  Pepper shared a look with Jason, their eyebrows lifting a fraction. “Don’t you mean a Cosmo?”

  “No. I want a martini with Bombay Sapphire. Extra dry and extra dirty.”

  “Damn-m-m,” the two men chorused, drawing out the word.

  Greer called on all her self-control not to laugh. She’d never been much of a drinker, nursing a beer for an hour while her friends were drinking margaritas, Jack and Coke and doing shots. Once she had joined the male-dominated ATF, she had graduated from beer to gin.

  Pepper ladled ice into a shaker. “What can I get for you, Jason?”

  “Cîroc, straight up.”

  Greer nudged him. “You go, playa.”

  Jason winked at her. “I could say the same thing about you. Somehow I figured you for a fine wine woman.”

  “The only time I drink wine is with dinner.”

  He ducked his head, the gesture so endearing Greer wanted to hold him close. “I’ll be certain to remember that whenever we share dinner.”

  Pepper shook the shaker with the ingredients for the martini. “You kids go and sit down with Bobby, and I’ll bring your drinks.”

  Resting his hand at the small of Greer’s back, Jason escorted her to the table. “I’ll follow you when you leave to make certain you get home all right.”

  “Who’s going to make certain you get home in one piece?” she teased.

  “Come home with me and find out. And it’s not what you think, Greer,” Jason said quickly when she frowned at him.

  “What am I thinking, Jason?”

  “That I’m going to try and get yo
u to sleep with me.” He shook his head. “It’s not about that. I thought, if you don’t have to go to work until the afternoon, then I could test your voice and go over possible songs for the mixed tape. I could also help you rehearse the songs for tomorrow’s playlist.”

  “If I rehearse with you, will I still have to rehearse with the band?”

  “No. I’ll let them know I went over everything with you.”

  She stopped before they were within earshot of her uncle. Getting close to Jason was progressing faster than she’d planned. If Chase proved not to be a person of interest, then she would have to redirect her focus.

  “Do I get to choose my own bedroom?”

  Jason’s smile was dazzling. “But of course.”

  “If that’s the case, then you’ve got yourself a houseguest.”

  Chapter 9

  Los Angeles

  Webb Irvine walked into his bedroom, towel tucked around his waist and droplets of water glistening on his sable skin from an ice-cold shower. It was as if nothing was going well for him. He hated anything and everything to do with Slow Wyne Records. He didn’t like the employees, the artists signed to the label, and he loathed rap and hip-hop.

  He still didn’t understand how Basil had put up with the antics of street thugs who really believed their own hype. Webb felt few, if any, of them had any talent. What they had were hard bodies covered with so much ink they could double for a collage. And then there were the women who followed them blindly, hoping for a piece of their stardom while attempting to lure them into bed where they would become their baby mama.

  He hadn’t had a woman in twenty years, and it would be another twenty years plus twenty more after that before he’d want one. He didn’t trust himself around women; his hatred for the opposite sex ran so deep, he feared any contact with them would send him back to prison. Occasionally he dreamed he’d slashed the face of every woman he’d met or seen. And he didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell him that he was internalizing what had happened to him as a teen. Spending his adolescence and early twenties locked up with other men had taught him to take care of his own sexual needs in private.