by Annie Seaton
“Where we were,” David said loudly.
“Yeah, where we were.”
Megan gathered up the paper her sandwich had been wrapped in and stood. “I’ll leave you to it.” The friendly conversation had ceased and the atmosphere had become uncomfortable. “Do you know where I would find a phone that works or an Internet connection that hasn’t been affected by the cable?”
She was surprised to notice a furtive glance between the two men, who both looked at David.
“How desperate are you?” His voice was reluctant.
“I need to check my e-mail and call home. My cell is dead and I need a power adapter.” She expelled her breath and continued, “It’s not life-threatening, but I really need to check on a situation that I left at home in Australia.”
“Man trouble?” David stood and shook the crumbs from his shirt.
“No, I don’t have ‘man’ trouble. I have a work problem to sort out.” She gathered up her parcels and turned to him before she walked away. “Luckily it’s only men who have a dick to think with or the world would be in chaos.”
Bear and Slim burst out laughing and she nodded at them.
“Nice to meet you, gentlemen. I might see you on stage.”
They grinned and Bear shook his head.
“Not this year,” he said enigmatically.
As she walked around the corner of the pub back toward the green, a hand grabbed at her arm and she came to a sudden stop. Slowly turning around, she looked into a black T-shirt and slowly raised her eyes to meet the deep blue gaze fixed on her. She waited for David to speak.
He ran his other hand through his loose black curls and a shiver trickled down her back, in contrast to the warmth of his hand still gripping the top of her arm. Their gazes met and held, and the feeling intensified. Her blood hummed in response to his look and she swallowed, waiting for him to speak.
“Look, I’m sorry for being so crude last night.” His voice was deep. “I thought you knew who I was and that you’d come looking for me.” His mouth lifted slightly in a wry grin. “It does happen, you know.”
“Well, you needn’t worry about me because I’ve never heard of you.” She still hadn’t forgotten the assumptions he’d made last night. She kept her voice cold as she fought the warmth rushing through her body. David still held her arm firmly, and the heat radiated from his fingers and ended up low in her belly.
“That’s good.” He ran his other hand though his loose curls. “Look, I’m just after a bit of privacy. This time of the year with the festival brings all types of people into town. We’ve had a few journalists in the village trying to dig up some dirt. Anything to sell a paper.” He looked away and seemed to be talking to himself. “Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” She looked pointedly down at his hand but he didn’t take the hint and she fought the desire to lean into his chest. His words had resonated with her and she clenched her fists. He was so close to her, his woodsy cologne enveloped her and she stepped back, catching her breath as the heat continued down her legs.
“I have to go into Taunton tomorrow morning if you want to come with me. There are a few cafés and a library where you can probably get Internet access. There’s nothing in the village here.”
For a moment, she considered refusing and then realized she couldn’t afford to. She had to see what was happening back in Sydney.
And whether I’ll have a job to go back to. And she could buy a power adapter there, so she could charge her cell phone and her laptop.
“Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“Be ready at eight. I’m only going in for an hour or so. I have to be back for rehearsal. With all the problems we’ve had, we’re way behind.”
He turned on his heel and headed back to his band, but not before she had a chance to check out how well his jeans fit to a set of powerful thighs.
Megan reached up and brushed her fingers across the top of her arm where he had gently gripped her.
Get over it. That’s the last thing I need. A holiday fling.
Just use him as an opportunity to find out more about Davy Morgan.
Chapter Five
Vivid dreams plagued Megan’s sleep and she was wide-awake. Images of bare-chested sweaty rock stars with black curly hair, on stage in tight leather pants and belting out loud music, had woken her in the early hours and she’d lain there with her eyes open for a while, before she realized that real music was actually pounding through the darkness from the house next door.
She’d thumped her pillow and put her head beneath the blankets but now her mind went to worrying about the information Tony was getting for her. Being out of contact was bloody frustrating and she lay there wondering when she should go back to Australia. Was there any point to working on her research?
Chances were there’d be no job to go back to, anyway.
The music drifted in next door and she closed her eyes as Davy Morgan’s voice came across in the still of the night. She closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. It was one of his sad love songs that she’d always loved.
“I’ll love you wherever you are, whenever you are.”
The ability of music to change moods and to promote well-being in its listeners had fascinated her since she’d first listened to those Davy Morgan songs, and had been the catalyst for her study of music. Now it was flowing through her like a drug and she embraced the high. She must put the fiasco at home out of her mind and make the most of being here at Glastonbury. The opportunity to enrich her sociology of music thesis was something she needed to grab with both hands. Her throat closed as the music swelled to a crescendo and she drew a deep breath as warmth filled her chest. No matter what was happening at home, and what went down with her job at the university, she was here because of her love for the music and the innate desire to find out more about the seventies and the festivals. If it didn’t end up being for her doctorate, did it really matter? The knowledge and the music filled an empty place within her.
Music had the ability to take over her soul and fill her with love.
Suddenly, the music stopped before reaching the final riff, and she felt cheated.
But then it went back to the beginning and started again. Megan smiled.
Just as she used to play that song over and over when she’d been a teenager.
She lay back and waited for it to get to the end again, but it chopped off before the final rise. By the time he had played the song and stopped it eight or more times, frustration had filled her.
No wonder he didn’t want neighbors if he was going to play his uncle’s music at full volume. The song stopped and started halfway through lines, before going back to the beginning of the song for the next hour. After another ten stops and starts, Megan put the pillow over her head and burrowed into the soft mattress.
Why the hell was he playing it like that?
The next thing she knew there was a pounding on the door and she opened her eyes to bright sunshine.
Shit. She’d overslept. Jumping out of bed, she grabbed a loose T-shirt and threw it on and pulled it down over her legs before she ran down the stairs and opened the door. She peered around the narrow opening.
David was leaning against the post on the small porch.
“So you changed your mind about coming?” He didn’t smile and she got the impression he was hoping she’d agree.
“No, I slept in.” She glared at him. “You playing your uncle’s music at full volume kept me awake all night.
That got a strange look out of him, before he glanced at his watch. “So how long till you can be ready?”
“Five minutes. I’ve still got no water for a shower, so I’ll just get dressed. I can grab a coffee in…where are we going?”
“Taunton.”
The water delivery promised by the purple-clad lady in the village store hadn’t come, so Megan made do with a quick wash with a flick of water
out of the last of her drinking water. She was in dire need of a shower and a hair wash after the long flight and twenty-four hours in the cottage. She pulled her hair up and wound it into a knot on the back of her head before slipping on a clean pair of jeans and a loose cotton shirt. A good spray of perfume and she flew down the stairs.
“Are you sure you don’t know any plumbers?” He shook his head as he opened the door of an old sporty vehicle of some type. It looked like one of those cars in the Austin Powers movies she loved. It was a bright-red convertible and the top was down.
“Never needed one in my cottage. Sorry,” he said.
“Wow, I feel like I’m back in the sixties,” she exclaimed. “What is this?”
“1966 Austin Healey 3000.”
“Is this like the one out of that Austin Powers movie?”
“No that was an E-Type Jaguar…the Shaguar…remember?” He looked across and for the first time a glimmer of a smile crossed his face. “You probably think that is more suitable for a rock star?”
“Are you a rock star, David?” She looked at him curiously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve never heard of you. What’s your band called?”
The resemblance to his uncle was amazing. Every time she glanced across at him, she wanted to giggle like a silly teenager. It would be so good to hear him sing at the festival. As soon as they got back from town she was going to walk across the fields and listen to the rehearsal. No matter what the old hippie woman had said. She’d made sure she’d gotten a ticket that gave her access to the farm before the festival kicked off. It would be a great opportunity to interview singers and roadies.
David put the car into gear and roared up the narrow road without answering. Megan grabbed futilely for her hair as the wind caught it and it flew around her face.
“So do you want me to find you a plumber?” he asked, changing the subject.
“That would be great.”
“First off, I’ll come over and have a look when we get back.” His brow furrowed. “Look, I don’t want to rush you but we can only stay an hour or so in Taunton. I’ll drop you off at a café and you can get your caffeine hit while you check your e-mail.”
“That’ll be long enough. I just need to see what’s happening at home.” She let out her breath in a sigh and he looked across at her.
“Problems?” he said.
“A problem at work. If it’s not sorted, I’ll have no job to go back to.”
“What do you do?”
He actually sounded interested so she gave him the short version of her career. He didn’t need to know all the details. “I do some tutoring in music at the university while I’m working on my PhD. It was actually your uncle who fostered my love of seventies music.”
He glanced across at her as he changed a gear and the car took off down a narrow hill. “Hmm. Interesting.”
All was quiet until they drove into a medium-size town and he dropped her off on the main street.
“There’s a café that should have computers about halfway along. I’ll pick you back up here in an hour. Okay?” he asked.
“What about an electrical store? I need an adapter.”
He pointed one out across from the café. She grabbed her bag and climbed out of the car, taking note of the street names so she didn’t get lost.
…
It only took five minutes for David to meet with the bank manager and sign the transfer for it to be couriered back to Clive at his bank in London. The royalties from his music were still providing him with a luxurious lifestyle in the twenty-first century and enabled him to split his time between Glastonbury and an island in the Caymans.
He wandered along the main street, which was lined with a mixture of old buildings from previous centuries and modern glass-and-concrete structures. Glancing at his watch, he turned into the courtyard of the Castle hotel, where he knew he could get a quick coffee in the BRAZZ brasserie beneath the imposing four-story structure.
He loved the old castle, and he’d stayed there a few times before he’d bought the cottage. An ancient wisteria vine with a trunk as thick as a tree rose from the walls beside the entrance and covered them with soft purple blooms. Once a Norman fortress and reconstructed in the eighteenth century, the Castle at Taunton had been welcoming travelers since the twelfth century and David idly wondered how hard it would be to find a time gate to go back and see it in its heyday.
Too risky. Alice had constantly warned him about using the time gates just to look around.
He shook his head as he sipped his coffee and pondered the problem of Megan. He’d finally found out her name before they’d started the short trip to Taunton. He’d tried to avoid her at the pub yesterday, but Bear had pushed him on. Life was complicated enough going backward and forward through time, without having her next door and seeing him head for the stone markers every day. When she arrived at this year’s festival and they weren’t playing, she was going to be asking some difficult questions.
He’d have to spin her some story about their act being canned from the current lineup to explain their nonappearance this year. But more importantly, he’d have to keep Megan away from the time gate.
He could still smell her perfume from being in the car with her, despite the top being down. She must have plastered it on but he’d been relieved when her hair had been pulled back and she’d looked less like the siren he’d been dreaming about for the past two nights.
Bloody hell, I don’t need this complication.
Pushing back his chair, he stood and gestured to the bar attendant, pointing to the money he’d left on the table. The pretty girl gave him a wave and held his eye, but he had no reaction to her come-hither look. His head was full of the black-haired beauty from next door. His dreams about her had left him curiously content, but restless, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to have to do something about it.
Megan was waiting for him at the intersection. She’d wound her hair up and secured it with some sort of clip.
“Thanks for being on time,” he said as she slipped in and closed the door. Huge sunglasses covered her eyes and her lips were tight. He risked a quick glance across at her and frowned as she brushed a stray tear from her cheek.
“You okay?” Not that he really needed to know, but sympathy settled in his gut as she hiccuped and tried to turn it into a cough.
“Fine.” She didn’t speak again as they traveled through the outskirts of the small town. A couple of times, she lifted a tissue and dabbed at her eyes but said nothing. He shrugged and focused on his driving. The small sports car ate up the miles quickly and it was less than half an hour when he turned onto the narrow unpaved lane that led down to the two cottages. As soon as he stopped the car outside her place, Megan opened the door and grabbed her bag.
“Thanks for the lift. Appreciate it.” She flicked him a quick wave as she shut the door and headed off down the path toward the front door of Violet Cottage. David put the car into gear and drove the short distance to the small barn on the other side of Rose Cottage.
…
Megan pulled the clip from her hair and ran her fingers through the loose curls before wandering through the kitchen. Casually picking up an apple from the shopping bag she’d left on the counter yesterday, and grateful for the large coffee she’d had in town, she stepped out the back door. She was still gobsmacked by the e-mail from Tony. Her chest closed and she fought the rising panic as she slipped through the back door.
Documentary evidence of e-mails and finances supplied by VC. Tony’s e-mail had been brief.
Attached. Megan WTF is going on?
He’d attached an audit and she’d managed to print that and the e-mail and shove them into her pocket. The late-morning sun was still bathing the patio in sunshine and she slid onto a chair and put her head down on her crossed arms as weariness overwhelmed her. The same lethargy she’d experienced when her parents had been killed overtook her limbs and Megan blinked as her vision blurred.
She was not going to let herself sink into a depression just because some lowlife at the university had accessed her computer files. That had to be what had happened. There was no other explanation. She got a sense from the tone of Tony’s e-mail that he was beginning to doubt her word. Her own brother-in-law was skeptical, so what chance did she have of proving her innocence? It was looking as though someone had gone to great lengths to get rid of her.
It had to be Greg, and she hadn’t given him credit for his determination to get her out of her job. He was one sick man. She’d seen the crazy side of him and had broken off their short relationship when she’d overheard him in a call to an ex-girlfriend one night.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to remember if Greg had ever had access to her password. They’d gone out for a few months and he’d suckered her right in. It seems all he’d been after was her job, and any information that she had on the selection panel. He’d trampled all over her in the race for a promotion. And he’d never turned down the opportunity to get in her bed. She had sworn off men for life when she’d wised up to him and his game. Chucked him out of her apartment and gotten the key back from him. Now, she realized, he’d obviously been in her files in her home office.
She’d never given him her password but he’d obviously figured it out somehow. She’d make him pay, if it was the last thing she did.
But none of this mooning around. She’d go to the festival rehearsal, get some more food from the crazy lady at the village store, and chase up a plumber. And then when she got home, she’d figure out a plan of attack.
Sitting up straight, she squinted into the bright sunlight as the creak of a gate caught her attention. David was heading out the back of his cottage across the fields, obviously going to rehearse at the festival at Pilton, with his guitar slung over his shoulder. If she didn’t hurry, she’d miss the afternoon rehearsals. No more sitting around feeling sorry for herself. She’d grab her notebook and camera, go start her research, and enjoy herself while she was there too.