Hot Rock

by Annie Seaton

  “Congratulations, you clever girl!” Kathy hugged her. “You must be so relieved.”

  “Yes, It’s a huge relief. I couldn’t have done it without Tony.”

  “Now tell us about the festival.” Beth looked at her eagerly. “And I want to hear all about my Great-Aunt Alice’s cottage. Was it quaint?”

  Megan sat down and waited for Tony to bring her a glass of wine from the bar. She picked up the drink and the light caught the deep red of the wine in her glass. She closed her eyes, the memory of sharing the bottle of vintage red wine at the cottage with David filling her thoughts. A warm hand on her forearm alerted her to her sister’s concern and Megan opened her eyes. Kathy was looking at her with a frown wrinkling her forehead.

  “Megs, what’s wrong?” Kathy leaned in and spoke softly to her while Tony and Beth chatted on the other side of the table. “You’re pale and listless and not yourself. Winning the appeal should put a bit of spark back in you. We’ve been worried about you since you came home.” Kathy’s face was full of concern. “I thought it was the case but it’s not, is it? What’s happened? You’re not sick, are you?”

  “I met someone in England.” Megan’s throat ached and her eyelids pricked with tears as she finally put David into words. The emotion she’d kept bottled inside her tumbled through her and she put her hands against her chest. “Oh Kathy, I miss him so much.”

  “You were hardly over there long enough to meet anyone.”

  “Oh, believe me—it seemed like a very long time.” Megan gave a short laugh. “Don’t worry about me, Kath. I think I’ve picked up some sort of bug. I’ll be fine.”

  For the rest of the night she put everything she had into being sociable, but by the time she got home, she was exhausted. She collapsed onto the lounge and flicked on the CD player with the remote and lay back as Davy’s voice surrounded her. The words washed over her and she drifted off for a few moments until the mellow notes of the last song woke her.

  How can I live without him?

  Suddenly, she sat bolt upright and listened.

  Really listened.

  She’d known this song since she was a teenager and hadn’t taken much notice of the words but had smiled at the title. It had been the first Davy Morgan song she’d ever heard and it had caught her attention because it was called “For Megan.”

  Jumping up from the sofa, she went over and flicked through the old albums on the floor by the bookcase. Pulling out Wandering, his second album, she turned it over and read the back of the sleeve.

  Excitement began to build in her stomach as she looked at the dates. “For Megan” had been written in early July 1971 and released as the last song on their big hit album. It said it was recorded at the studio in London and had been written by Davy Morgan alone.

  The CD clicked back to the first song, but with shaking fingers Megan pressed the button on her stereo to select “For Megan.” Sitting on the floor in front of the stereo so she could go back as soon as the song finished, she listened to it again and again. Grasping the album cover in her hands, her lips moved as she read the words of the song written on the back cover.

  Certainty filled her and she relaxed, taking deep breaths. A lightness filled her chest and she smiled. The words of the song had been written for her. She was sure they had, as sure as the breaths she was taking in would sustain her. Something must have happened to keep David from coming back to her that night. There was no girlfriend. It wasn’t because he’d been taking advantage of her. He had had the same intense feelings she did. Maybe she should have waited, or maybe he hadn’t been able to get back at all. She had to trust.

  Come back to me, Megan.

  Together we will conquer time.

  He’d written the song to get the message to her. The tension that had filled her body since that night slowly eased out of her body and her limbs relaxed as the chorus swelled.

  Come back to me, I can’t find you.

  I need you, I love you.

  The song ended and Megan clicked the stereo off. With surprise she reached up to her wet cheeks. She’d been so immersed in the words of his song for her, she hadn’t even been aware she was crying. Wiping her eyes, she logged on to her laptop. There were flights to book and she would have to apply for more leave from the university. The only problem she could foresee was finding David if he hadn’t been able to get back through the time slip. If it meant she had to go back in time again, so be it.

  Whatever she had to do to find David, she would do it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “McLaren.” David tried to keep his tone patient as he spelled out the surname. He’d spent two days scouring the Internet for all the McLarens he could find in the Sydney white pages, and last night he had spent hours dialing Australian phone numbers. No one had heard of a Beth McLaren, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d remembered the name that Megan had said correctly.

  Now he was onto the local borough and trying to get the Australian address of the owner of Violet Cottage, but had come head-to-head with British bureaucracy.

  “Yes, sir, that is correct. The owner is Ms. McLaren in Australia, however I cannot divulge her address. It is against the privacy law. I probably shouldn’t even confirm that name for you.”

  “But what if I wanted to buy the cottage?” David was prepared to do anything to find out a way to get in touch with Megan.

  “You would have to contact the solicitor who manages the cottage.”

  Thank God. Finally he was making progress.

  “So can you give me that name and number?”

  “Certainly, sir. Just give me a moment.” Over the phone line, keys clicked as the clerk retrieved the information and finally came back to give him the name of a law firm in London.

  Two phone calls later and he had managed to get an assurance that an e-mail would be sent to Ms. McLaren asking her to contact him.

  The morning after he’d written her song, he’d gone down to the village and discovered that Jules’s husband, Ned, the village taxi driver, had driven Megan to the train station to catch the train to London.

  No privacy issues there. Jules knew all about Megan’s plans as Ned had relayed them back to her. Megan had gone straight to Heathrow and would be back in Australia by now.

  Christ Almighty. I don’t even know her last name.

  “One of your best, man.” Bear nodded at David as his fingers strummed the last notes of “For Megan” and Mick Rothman gave them a broad smile through the glass wall of the studio. David had written the song for Megan in the cottage the day before he’d come back through the stones to meet Bear and Slim, and they’d headed off to the studio. The trip had been cramped in Bear’s van overflowing with their instruments and amplifiers.

  One more song to record and the album was finished. Mick was ecstatic and was predicting a hit. David didn’t tell him that three of the songs would reach number one in the States over the summer and challenge the Beatles for the longest place in the number one spot.

  Knowing his future when he was back here was surreal. He came back occasionally to play the festivals and record some more albums—and they did a hugely successful tour, but mostly he stayed in the twenty-first century.

  Bear wouldn’t make it through the eighties, but he hadn’t shared that with the guys either. He’d found his grave in the small village cemetery in Glastonbury when he’d read of the lives of the band in a newspaper article.

  “We’re done. Fabulous job, guys.” Mick opened the door of the studio, the cigarette that was permanently in his mouth hanging from the corner. “Now, to the promotion. I’ve scheduled an appearance in London for you guys next week.”

  David shook his head. “Right, I’ll make sure I’m back by then.”

  “Back from where?”

  David caught Bear’s and Slim’s grins and he shrugged as he lifted his guitar from his shoulder. “I might sound arrogant, but we’ll be big. Trust me.” He walked over to Bear and held out his hand. “I’ve org
anized a lift back to Glastonbury.”

  Bear held his eye and David could tell he understood that they wouldn’t see him for a while.

  “Take care, man. It’s been fun.”

  Slim walked over and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You look after yourself, man. Have fun spending all that dosh.”

  David grinned at the look on Mick’s face. His mouth was hanging open and the cigarette had dropped from his mouth.

  “Bye, Mick.”

  …

  The second time the taxi dropped her off in front of the cottages, Megan walked up the shady lane leading to Violet Cottage and she knew where she was going, and didn’t end up on the wrong porch. Her stomach fluttered and her heart pounded as she walked past David’s place. His front door was closed and all was quiet, but she wasn’t going to let that bother her. It was a brilliant late-summer morning and the slight breeze ruffled the shiny green leaves on the hedge lining the narrow laneway.

  David had written the song for her to get her back, and now she was here, and they would find each other somewhere, somehow, in some time. That was the one thing she was sure of. A tremble went through her as she thought of going back through the stones. She walked around to the back of the cottage and put her bag down on the porch, closing her eyes as the heady perfume of the roses surrounded her.

  The faint mooing of the cows in the field at the back of the cottages drifted across on the breeze and she put her hand up to her eyes and peered back across toward the village. Glastonbury Tor stood tall in the morning sun, and the last drifts of mist around the three marker stones were gradually disappearing in the light breeze. The brightly colored tents of the festival had long gone and an idyllic English countryside spread out before her. With a happy sigh, she turned to the door, but paused as a flash of movement near the monument caught her attention.

  Her breath caught as a familiar figure in a black T-shirt and black jeans stepped from behind the middle stone. Even from this distance, the sunlight highlighted the blue-black lights of his long curls. She waited with her heart thudding in her chest as he crossed the field to the gate at the back of Rose Cottage. She pressed her lips together and rubbed her arms as a lightness filled her entire body.

  Finally, Megan stepped from the porch onto the soft grass and waited for David to see her. He stopped and stood stock-still. He turned his head slowly toward her and the expression on his face was all she’d dreamed of. His dark eyes lit up and his sexy lips tilted in a huge grin. A surge of warmth began in the pit of her stomach and rose to her chest.

  She smiled at him and held out her hand. He dropped his guitar to the ground and strode across his back garden, jumping the fence between the two cottages in one fluid movement.

  David reached her and took her hand in his. Not one word was spoken.

  The connection between them was sealed as a jolt of heat ran up Megan’s arm. He looked down at her, and his dark gaze held hers for a long moment before he took her in his arms and held her tightly against him.

  Relief coursed through her body as he embraced her as though he’d never let her go. Warmth radiated through her and her heart drummed in her chest. She quivered with the effort of suppressing the emotion clogging her throat and wrapped her arms around his back.

  “I heard my song.” She kept her voice soft and parted her lips as he lifted his head.

  “I wrote it because I didn’t know where to look for you.” Holding her eyes with his dark gaze, his deep voice sent a shiver coursing through her.

  “I know. That’s why I came back.”

  Slowly his lips lowered to hers as though they had all the time in the world.

  “I meant every word, you know.” He murmured against her lips and the vibration of his words sent the warmth rushing lower. “I love you, Megan. I want you in my life, wherever we are.”

  His words filled her with joy and his touch drifted over her lightly. The sensation of intimacy held a promise of their future.

  “Whenever we are,” she replied.

  Epilogue

  Two languorous days had passed exploring each other and finding out about the other. Most of the time was spent in bed in David’s home. Megan hadn’t even entered the McLaren cottage.

  She shivered as a finger ran lazily down her back. Propped on her stomach with her hands beneath her chin, she drank in the sight of David lying beside her on the bed. The look he returned went straight to her heart, cementing the feelings and words they had shared over the past two days.

  Megan reached across and tangled her fingers in David’s hair, wrapping a curl around her finger. Rolling over onto her back, she pulled his head across to hers and slid her lips slowly over his.

  “I still can’t believe I found you so easily.” She smiled as he deepened the kiss and she let his hair free as he lay beside her. His skin was warm against hers and his fingers trailed down her side. “It was meant to be.”

  “Hey, I was trying hard over here too. I wasn’t going to give up.” David raised himself up on one elbow. “I realized my privacy wasn’t that important.”

  “Not like a reclusive rock star I was in love with when I was a teenager. He was very private.” She grinned down at him and ran her fingers down his chest. “Shame they had to make up all those stories about what a bad boy he was.”

  David caught her fingers before they traveled beneath the sheet. “Are you going to come and live on my island with me, Megan?”

  “No more traveling through stones?”

  He nodded. “I have to go back to do some promotion for this album, and a couple of tours. Then for a few more albums and in about ten years for a reunion. Bear died in the eighties.”

  He leaned over and kissed her briefly. “Come on, lazybones. We’ve got a visit to make. Time to get up.”

  Megan squealed as he slapped her bare bottom. Long legs and a sexy naked butt disappeared into the small bathroom and the shower began to run. He was right; they had a visit to make, but she’d join him in the shower first. She slid out of bed and followed him into the bathroom.

  …

  David smiled as the plastic shower curtain rasped along the rail. The difference between his luxurious bathroom in the condo on the island and this tiny room with its small over-bath shower was immense. But he’d never looked forward to a shower in his luxury bathroom as much as he did now when Megan peered around the edge of the brightly patterned plastic shower curtain, her green eyes full of the desire that had been there for the last two days.

  Her answering smile told him that she knew exactly what he was thinking. She stepped into the shower and looked at him as he stood beneath the steaming hot water. Reaching for the soap, she stood at the other end of the small tub. Not that she was far out of his reach—thank God, because he didn’t know how long he could take this.

  She took the soap and held his gaze as she began to gently rub it over her collarbones, down over her breasts, over her stomach in slow circles and then lower…

  The breath caught in David’s throat as he watched her. The tips of her breasts hardened and darkened beneath his gaze. He lifted his eyes and caught hers as she let the soap fall.

  She shot him a cheeky smile and bent, her lips brushing his stomach as she knelt down to pick it up.

  David groaned. “Enough, woman.” He grabbed her hands and pulled her up hard against him. Her sweet-smelling soapy skin slipped against his and he captured her mouth, winding his fingers through her hair to hold her steady.

  The water splashed around them as Megan lifted one leg around his, and David gazed down at her. Her eyes were closed and he slid his hands down to grip her hips. She gasped, and her hands grabbed his shoulders as her head tipped back. He kissed her neck as he slid slowly into her.

  She was beautiful.

  What they shared was beautiful.

  He closed his eyes and focused on pleasuring his woman as his heart swelled with love for her.

  …

  By the time they walked through the
village and passed the abbey, the sun was low in the western sky. They’d stopped at the village store and chatted to Jules as they’d bought a bunch of flowers to take with them. Streaks of pink and gold surrounded the low hills around them as David pushed open the gate to the small cemetery behind the abbey. The air was still and quiet as they walked through the headstones.

  “She was a sweet lady.” David crouched beside a simple black marble plaque as Megan read the words. “Alice Elizabeth McLaren, d. 10 November 2008.”

  “If it hadn’t been for her leaving the cottage to my friend, I would never have met you.”

  David stood and wandered over to another grave, and Megan followed him and placed the last of the flowers next to the simple wooden cross.

  “Bear was a good man, too.”

  As they turned to leave the grave, a flash of light lit the sky and highlighted the three stone markers ahead of them. David took Megan in his arms and kissed her.

  “We’ll go home through the village…”

  Megan smiled and closed her eyes as his warm lips stayed on hers. “As long as we’re together, Davy Morgan, I’m home, whenever we are.”

  Acknowledgments

  Erin Molta…you are the best, and you rock as much as the music in this story. You are a superb editor!

  David Bowie…whose song “Starman” lit the spark that began my love affair with seventies music.

  About the Author

  Annie Seaton lives on the beautiful east coast of Australia, where she loves sitting in her writing chair, gazing at the ocean and writing stories. She has always been fascinated by romance and has found her niche writing stories ranging from contemporary romance to romantic suspense and paranormal romance.

  Her debut full-length novel, Holiday Affair, a contemporary romance set in the South Pacific, was released as part of Entangled Publishing’s Indulgence line in March 2012 and spent a year on best-seller lists. Italian Affair, Outback Affair, Dangerous Desire, and Tangling with the CEO were also published by Entangled in 2013.