Chapter Twenty
Kendall
Laney Albright has the kind of rhythm and New Yawk swagger that makes it impossible to keep still when she sings. My hips are wiggling, my shoulders are swaying, and right behind me, standing so close our bodies keep grazing, is Vaughn. At every point of contact, sparks of awareness flare. Then recede. Flare. Recede. It’s maddening in the best possible way.
It’s a good thing he can’t see my face because it’s no doubt glowing pink with adoration.
Tonight is crazy. The past week has been crazy. My ordinary life has changed in ways I never imagined. The hope I held deep down for things to change may have included a guy, but not one like the tall slice of heaven now putting his hands on my hips.
Instantly, my head, my heart, my tummy are all fluttery. These feelings swoop in regularly, so I should be used to them. But I’m not.
We move to the music, the beat a mix of electronic and hip-hop. I’ve been acutely tuned in to Vaughn since the second he knocked on my door and took my hand to lead me to his car. My air space is entirely filled with him whether we’re driving, sneaking into an album release party or getting our groove on. There may be a couple hundred other people here with us, but I don’t see any of them.
I glance to my right. Except for him. Justin Timberlake is five feet away. He’s new to America Rocks this season, taking over as a judge. He shook my hand, which means I may never wash it again, and couldn’t have been nicer when we were introduced. Being in the roped-off VIP section definitely has its perks. Thankfully, Justin has soaked up 90 percent of the attention. While girls have definitely noticed Vaughn, they haven’t approached. A couple of people wearing press lanyards are on the other side of the venue, a safe distance away.
Muted spotlights circling the stage give the event space on Hollywood Blvd. an intimate feel. The friends and fans here for this special night are singing along with Laney as she belts out her most recent hit. Also across the room is a seemingly endless upscale bar, the glass from liquor bottles and tumblers fracturing the stage lights into twinkles of blue, green, and gold. Outside, massive video screens overlooking the street and sidewalk play a constant loop of Laney’s appearances and songs. In the lobby is a lounge with couches and portable shelves filled with shoeboxes from tonight’s sponsor, Adidas. Laney is known for the custom rainbow-striped sneakers she wears—no matter the outfit—and so tonight everyone in attendance is getting a pair.
The music continues to thump loud enough that I can see people’s lips moving, but I’m not sure if any sound is actually coming out. Not until Laney holds the mic out for the audience to fill in the refrain.
When the song ends, the crowd goes wild. Laney gives a shout-out of thanks then brings her hand to her face like she’s covering her eyes from the sun. “Vaughn Shaughnessy? You out there?” she asks, her vowels drawn out long as the Brooklyn Bridge.
“That’s my cue,” he whispers in my ear, having prepared me ahead of time—but only this morning. I almost changed my mind about coming, knowing he was going to take the stage. Since Vaughn is featured in Laney’s music video she thought it would be cool for him to be the one to emcee a quick Q and A. Vaughn agreed—mostly to appease his dad after Vaughn told him he wasn’t going to do the velvet rope photo op. I didn’t like being the reason Vaughn stayed under the radar, but he assured me it wasn’t a big deal.
Not for the first time, I wonder if I might get in the way of his career.
I’m the reason Mason didn’t get to follow his dreams, and it would kill me to be the reason Vaughn missed an opportunity.
Vaughn makes his way to Laney, the girls in the audience squealing like crazy and high-fiving him as he passes. He hops up onstage and strikes up an easy conversation with the pop star that has everyone laughing and sighing. Vaughn is a natural, so at ease in front of an audience. He will absolutely win the hearts of America if he becomes the next host of America Rocks. He may even outshine the contestants. I wonder if he sings?
I look over at Justin again. He’s wearing a baseball cap to keep a low-ish profile. Tonight is about Laney, and it’s sweet that he’s here for her. Vaughn told me Justin is one of the producers on her debut album.
“The album drops Tuesday. Any special plans?” Vaughn asks into a microphone.
“Just chilling with friends.”
“What time should I be over?” Vaughn teases.
“I want to come!” someone in the crowd shouts.
Laney smiles before Vaughn quickly says, “We’ll all be with you in spirit.”
Gah. The America Rocks brass are crazy if they don’t hire Vaughn.
“Thanks, everyone,” Laney says.
“You guys ready for one last song?” Vaughn asks the room. A resounding “yes” is the answer. Laney recaptures the audience’s attention as Vaughn returns to me with a megawatt grin on his gorgeous face. “How’d I do?”
“Fantastic.” I lift up on tiptoes to kiss him.
He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. “What do you say we make our escape now while all eyes are on the stage?”
“I like that idea.” I silently pray no one catches us.
Fingers laced together, we stop in the empty lounge to grab a pair of the complimentary shoes. An Adidas rep asks our sizes, bags our swag, and we’re about to be on our way when a tall, good-looking man wearing jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and a five o’clock shadow approaches. “Vaughn Shaughnessy, are you sneaking out without saying hello?” Whoever this person is, he has a very nice British accent.
Vaughn releases me to shake hands with the man. “Nigel. It’s good to see you again.”
“You, too. I had a call with John earlier today to get caught up on a few things. Your name came up more than once.”
“That’s…good?”
The older man laughs. “All good, although he complained your schedule is bloody hard to work around. Almost as bad as mine. I hear you’re off to San Francisco tomorrow for a photo shoot.”
“Gotta go where the work takes me.”
“I appreciate that ethic.” Nigel’s attention shifts to me. “’Course a smart lad makes sure he’s not all work and no play.”
“I’m sorry,” Vaughn says. “This is Kendall. Kendall, this is Nigel Cowie, the executive producer of America Rocks.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “I’m a huge fan of the show.”
“Lovely to meet you, and thanks for watching.” He gives me a kind smile, earning my regard right away, then returns his focus to Vaughn. “Great job onstage.”
“Thank you.” Vaughn threads his fingers through mine once again. I squeeze his hand to convey, Woohoo! Nigel Cowie said you did a great job!
Nigel’s gaze dips to our linked hands like he can hear my inner thoughts. Am I thinking too loud?
“I won’t keep you,” he says, his tone amiable.
“I’m glad we ran into you,” Vaughn says. “Enjoy the rest of the night.”
“Likewise,” Nigel replies.
The second Vaughn and I are outside in the warm summer air, I say, “He really likes you.”
“You think?”
“Yep.”
“I tried to play it cool.”
“You were the coolest of cool.”
“There’s a cool bar around the corner.” Vaughn’s smile is anything but cool. It’s hot, and it’s getting me hot, too. “Are you up for something to eat?”
“Sounds good,” I say.
He opens the door to Lost Property Bar, allowing me entry first. With his hand on the small of my back, he leads us to a round open table in the back. He pulls out my chair before sitting across from me in the low-lit, sophisticated bar. I hang my purse over the chair back and relax into my seat. I’ve got the best view in the place right in front of me. Dressed in a fitted mesh-trim T-shirt the same shade as his eyes, his light brown hair effortlessly sexy, and a playful bend to his lips, Vaughn is ridiculously appealing.
“Whatever you do,” h
e says, putting our shoe bags down before leaning his elbows on the table, “don’t tell Dylan we came here instead of The Cabana.”
I laugh. “I can hear him now. ‘You went to that fucking dive instead of my place? What the hell is wrong with you?’”
Vaughn cracks up. “You sounded just like him.”
“I’m good with voices. Want to hear my James Corden?”
“He’s only my favorite late night talk show host, so yes.”
“He’s my favorite, too!” Okay, so now I really want to impress him. I clear my throat. “Hey, man, you left your guitar at my house last night, so I’ve got it here, but I’m going to be late for work now.”
“I don’t know why listening to you imitate a male late night host is sexy”—Vaughn takes my face in his hands—“but I need to make out with this exceptionally talented mouth now.” The split second his lips meet mine I open for him. Every kiss is better than the last. Every taste makes me forget everything but us. Our tongues slide against each other, our lips meld. I’m helpless to stop the tiny noise of approval that sounds from the back of my throat. Vaughn kisses me harder in answer.
After a minute—or maybe ten, I’ve lost track of time—someone’s chair scrapes against the floor, reminding us we’re necking in a bar. We pull back at the same time. Vaughn’s eyes stay glued to mine as he gets comfortable in his seat again. The intensity that arches between us feels magnetic, and I’m ready to dive into another kiss. Screw privacy.
“Let’s order before I drag you out of here.” He picks up the small menu left on the table just as the waitress arrives. Vaughn orders me a lemon drop martini when I tell him I want something fruity and not too strong, and an iced tea for himself.
“You’re not having a drink?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’m good without it.”
“Iced tea for me, too, then,” I tell the waitress before Vaughn and I order a few different appetizers to share.
“Laney was incredible,” I say. “I’m glad I came tonight.”
He reaches across the table for my hand, runs his thumb across my knuckles in a gesture I’m getting way too accustomed to. This time it’s the same hand JT shook. My hand is currently the lottery winner of body parts. “Thanks for risking being seen with me.”
“You can thank me later.”
“Oh, I plan to. Numerous times.”
I press my thighs together, his promise a direct link to there. “It was fun getting a glimpse of you in action. I really hope you get the hosting job.”
“You’ve been privy to more than a brief look at my moves, baby,” he says in a low, playful voice.
My body perks up further, a flame inside me stoked by his flirting. “Shut up. You know what I mean. You’re a natural onstage.”
“Thanks.” Sliding his hand back and resting his forearms on the table, he twists the bracelet I gave him around his wrist. Without thought, I reach for my necklace and rub my fingers over the pendant. “You know, you’re a natural, too.”
I frown in confusion.
“At helping people, lifting others up, and supporting a cause. Last night at the art exhibit I watched you engage the artists and their families. You knew every student by name. You knew their projects and said something special, something personal, about each one. You took efforts to make them feel proud of their work.”
The compliment is like sunshine after six months of rain. “They should feel proud. We sold every piece and raised close to twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“That’s fantastic,” he says. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I’m on cloud nine that I got to be a part of it.” I gather my hair and pull it over one shoulder. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you, can you sing?”
His mouth quirks up, and my female parts hum. “Not at all. You?”
“Not even a little.”
“So you and I should definitely team up for the next karaoke night.” He leans back and crosses his arms.
“It’s always better to get laughed at with someone.”
“That’s my theory.” Vaughn’s brilliant green eyes, the ones that intimidated me when we first met, sparkle with a one-two punch of warmth and desire. It’s impossible to remain unaffected when he looks at me like that.
“What was the first concert you went to?” I ask, fiddling with the hemline of my dress.
“Coachella.” A look of nostalgia turns his one-in-a-million face into a one-in-a-billion piece of chiseled art. Vaughn is so much more than what people see on the outside. “It was the tenth anniversary of the music festival, and I went with my sister. Andie had been before so knew all the ins and outs. I think we both slept a total of eight hours in three days. It was awesome.”
“Who did you get to see?”
He runs his fingers through the hair at his temple. “Paul McCartney, The Cure, Morrissey, The Crystal Method, The Black Keys, Thievery Corporation, Amy Winehouse, and a bunch of others. Every one of them was epic. What about you? First concert? Wait. Let me guess.” He studies me like he can read my mind, so I think about a baby giraffe to throw him off.
“Destiny’s Child,” he says after hardly any deliberation.
My mouth drops open. “How did you know?”
He has the decency to look surprised—for all of one second—before he laughs. “Sheer brilliance on my part.”
“More like sheer luck,” I fire back.
“That, too. Plus you were humming ‘Bootylicious’ the morning I came by to apologize and get my keys.”
Was I? I honestly don’t remember, but my heart skips a beat over the fact that he tucked away such a small detail. The waitress arrives with our drinks. “Your food will be out in a minute,” she says.
Vaughn waits for her to step away before he sends me a sly smile. “And you are, by the way.”
“I am what?” I ask with my glass halfway to my lips.
“Bootylicious.”
My face heats as I take a long gulp of iced tea, and another hip-hop classic pops into my head: Nelly’s “Hot in Herre.” Yep, I’m ready to take off all my clothes with Vaughn again.
…
“Keep your eyes closed,” Vaughn says softly.
“I am.” I squeeze his hand tighter, hoping I don’t trip over my feet on our way to his bedroom. The house is quiet, making me acutely aware of my own breathing. “Have I mentioned I hate surprises?”
“Only twice since we walked through the front door, but too bad.”
I hear the creak of a door then sense brightness. The door clicks shut. Vaughn lets go of my hand.
“Can I open them now?”
“Not yet.” His warm breath fans my face, so I know he’s standing right in front of me.
“Vaughn.”
“Patience, beautiful.” He gently grips my shoulders and turns me around. “This is so you aren’t tempted to peek. Give me thirty more seconds.”
“Ohh-kayyy.”
He rustles around his bedroom, giving no obvious clue to what he’s surprising me with. When he’d asked me to stay the night with him, I’d immediately said yes. When he’d said he had something for me, I’d said bribery wasn’t necessary. He’d laughed. God, I want to listen to his laugh every single day.
“All right. It’s ready. Turn around and open your eyes.”
I’m a little disoriented as I attempt a one-eighty, but I think I’m looking toward his bed. Maybe he’s sprawled out naked? Ready and waiting for me to do whatever I want with his body? My legs shake at the thought before I blink the room into focus. I am facing his bed, but it’s not Vaughn leaning against it. My breath catches.
The drawing of the three young girls is propped up with pillows. Will’s painting is here!
“Oh my God.”
Vaughn smiles. “Surprise.”
“How did you…when I went to…” I walk closer, my adoration moving from the picture to Vaughn. “I was secretly hoping to buy this and was disappointed when I found out someone had already purchased
it. How did you know?” I hadn’t told anyone how much I loved this piece of artwork. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was and didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings by buying one student’s work over another.
“I watched you.”
I shift my gaze back to the lifelike dog being held in such a loving way by his owner. Vaughn’s words thrill me and make me nervous. It’s been a long time since a guy has paid such close attention to me.
I’m reminded of Mason and the Winnie the Pooh quote he gave me, and the guilt that still lingers deep in my heart rises closer to the surface.
Vaughn traces a finger up my bare arm. “I watched you from across the room when you stood in front of this drawing like you were seeing two friends. I bought it for you right after that and asked Candace to keep it a secret.”
“Thank you. I love it.”
“I love this.” He touches the corner of my mouth. “It looks good on you.”
“What? My lip gloss?” Am I still wearing any? My breath catches in my throat for some crazy reason.
“Your smile, Kendall. I love seeing you smile.”
Tears sting my eyes. I fling my arms around his neck and kiss him. He kisses me back with equal enthusiasm, but eases away too soon and smooths his hands down my hair. “You know, Nigel had an excellent idea tonight.”
I blink, trying to follow his sudden shift in conversation. “Did he?”
“Uh-huh.” He leans in and kisses me again—just one firm kiss—before adding, “He said a smart lad finds a way to mix some fun with the work. It just so happens you’re my favorite type of fun. Will you make me a smart lad, Kendall?” He follows that up with another, longer kiss, which only succeeds in scrambling my brain.
When my mouth is mine again, I do my best to respond to his question, even though I don’t understand what he’s asking of me. “I’d do anything for you—”
“Fly to San Francisco after work tomorrow,” he says quickly. “Spend the weekend with me. My shoot may take up most of Saturday, but you can come along, or enjoy a spa day at the hotel, shopping in the city, or a little of everything. Saturday night and Sunday will be all ours. We can sight-see, or order room service and spend the entire time in bed. Whatever you want. Just don’t make me go two long days without this smile.”
Promise Me Page 22