ALMOST HOME

by Williams, Mary J.

  “A nanny?” Kane chuckled. “Wow.”

  “Don’t be a snob,” Joplin chided.

  “Hard not to when I think about how different our childhoods were.” The smile left his lips. “While your nanny tucked you into a warm bed, I was—”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  When Kane reached for a glass, Joplin shook her head. To his amusement, he felt a wave of pride as she drank straight from the bottle. To his surprise, she took a full sip like a pro, the liquor sliding down her throat without a single cough or wheeze.

  “I was raised to appreciate a good drink,” she explained.

  “Something we finally have in common.”

  “Finally?” A glint of annoyance in her green eyes, Joplin took another swig before she handed back the tequila. “We have more in common than you think.”

  “Name five,” Kane said.

  “Number one. I like Jax.”

  “Fair enough.” Kane toed off his boots. Moving to the French doors, he walked onto the balcony. Downtown Los Angeles at night was a sight to behold. Great booze, he decided, deserved a good view. “One down, four to go.”

  Joplin joined him at the railing. She rested her elbows on the wrought iron, her chin on her hands.

  “Don’t suppose I can use Beck, Morgan, and Skye separately. They should be lumped with Jax.”

  “I’ll give you Morgan,” Kane conceded, feeling magnanimous. “Skye cancels out Beckett.”

  A frown formed between Joplin’s brows. She shook her head when Kane offered her the bottle.

  “If you don’t like Skye, why did you ask her to join the band?”

  “She told you?” Kane sighed, his head falling back. “Of course, she did. Why do women feel the need to talk to each other about everything?”

  “Men love to talk,” Joplin said. “Difference is, women discuss important things, men just jabber about nothing.”

  Jabber? Kane snorted. Good word.

  “We talk about sports. And sex.”

  “But not anything concerning your emotions.”

  “Did you see the way the Texans played last Sunday?” Kane asked with a chuckle. “I sobbed on Jax’s shoulder.”

  Joplin simply smiled, shook her head.

  “I don’t dislike Skye,” Kane said. “She’s pretty in a weepy kind of way.”

  “What does weepy mean? I’ve never seen her cry or complain.”

  What Joplin said was true. Much to Kane’s surprise, Skye worked her butt off to learn the stagecraft she needed for their concerts. She listened, took instructions, and rarely made the same mistake twice. And yet…

  “Skye has a voice sent from heaven. Just hope there isn’t a barracuda hiding under her fragile angel looks.”

  “I think Skye is what you see. A sweet, kind, young woman who loves her family.”

  “For Jax’s sake, I hope you’re right.” Kane shrugged. Nothing he could do either way. “So far, your list has two items. Name three more things we have in common.”

  “What happens if I can’t?” Joplin inquired with a teasing glint in her eyes.

  Damn those green eyes. One look and the air left his lungs with an uncomfortable whoosh. Breathe, Kane reminded himself.

  “A minor punishment. A forfeit.” Kane’s mouth went dry. “Maybe a kiss?”

  “Kissing you would be a reward, not a punishment.”

  Certain his misheard, Kane froze.

  “You know what you’re saying?” he asked. “You’re skirting dangerous ground.”

  “Yes.” Joplin’s voice didn’t waver, nor did her gaze. “Remember, I only owe you a kiss if I can’t finish my list.”

  The little stinker gave herself an easy out. Deliberately, Kane took another drink. Again, Joplin declined his offer to join him. He was tempted to kiss her, here, now, damn the consequences. She needed to learn when you played with the devil, sometimes you got burned.

  Joplin’s expression was so open, so certain he was the man she wanted him to be. Though Kane wanted to be better, history wasn’t on his side. He would disappoint her. Eventually, his actions would chase the trust from her eyes.

  Better Joplin learned the truth now, from him.

  “I’m not a good man, Joplin.” He let out a scoffing laugh. “Hell has a place waiting for me—right beside my old man.”

  “Because you drink too much? Smoke pot? Take a few pills?” Joplin shrugged. “Hardly enough to get you into hell.”

  Kane hadn’t touched a joint or popped a pill since they left Oregon. He glanced down at the bottle. Barely a quarter empty. His restraint was admirable. But he had too much bad blood running through his veins. And, he had proof.

  Taking out his wallet, Kane flipped to the picture he carried as a reminder, though he was unlikely to forget—you can’t run from your DNA.

  “Niles Harrison.” Kane handed the photo to Joplin. “Notice the resemblance?”

  “A bit,” Joplin said. “Same jaw. Same eyebrows. However, I see a big difference.”

  “I’m his carbon copy,” Kane insisted. He frowned. “What difference?”

  “In the eyes.” Joplin tapped a nail against the paper. “His are dead, emotionless—except for a touch of cruelty.”

  The crease between Kane’s brows deepened. Joplin’s words were a balm, a splash of hope. Yet, he’d lived with memories for too long. The memories and the certain fear that one day, he would become his father, inside and out.

  “I have his eyes.”

  “Dark, yes. But yours are filled with life, Kane.” Joplin cupped his face. The cool of her hands against his heated skin made him sigh. “You’re funny, and irreverent, and kind.”

  “Now you’re seeing what you want, not what’s really there.”

  When Kane would have pulled away, Joplin tightened her hold.

  “In the hotel the other day. There was a little boy, three, maybe four years old, crying his eyes out, inconsolable. His mother, three other children in tow, was at the end of her rope. Remember what you did?”

  Embarrassed, Kane shrugged. He hadn’t realized anyone he knew had been around to play witness.

  “No big deal,” he muttered.

  “Maybe not to you,” Joplin conceded. “However, when you took the time and knelt to that little boy’s eye level. When you crooned him the sweetest lullaby I’ve ever heard. You changed his day—and made his mother’s.”

  “You’re making too much of a random act of kind—”

  “The word is kindness,” Joplin said. “You, Kane Harrison, are a kind man. Or can be when you don’t think anyone’s around to notice.”

  Joplin smoothed her thumb across his cheek. Closing his eyes, Kane let out another pleasure-tinged sigh. With his addictive personality, he feared it wouldn’t take long for him to crave her touch.

  “I didn’t recognize the lullaby,” she said. “I’d like to download a copy. Who’s the original artist?”

  “You’re looking at him,” Kane said with a shrug. “The tune was from a song I haven’t finished.”

  “And the words?” she asked.

  “Made them up on the spot.”

  Random lyrics popped into Kane’s head all the time. Same thing happened to Jax who carried around a notepad so he could jot down the words before they flew away as quickly as they appeared. Kane, on the other hand, didn’t need a pen and paper. He magically placed them in a special file located at the back of his brain.

  “I never forget, anything.” Unthinking, Kane placed a hand on Joplin’s waist. “Sometimes a curse. However, I can remember every lyric written by me or anyone else. Makes learning a new song a snap.”

  Wonder bloomed in the depths of Joplin’s green eyes. Kane was drawn to her light like a hungry moth, but he recognized the danger even if she didn’t.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he warned.

  “With admiration?”

  “Desire,” Kan
e corrected. “Walk away, Joplin. Run. Don’t look back.”

  Joplin was smart, probably the most intelligent woman he’d ever known. But everyone had their moments of stupidity—like now. Instead of heeding his warning to get as far away from him as possible, she moved closer.

  Foolish woman.

  “I never walk away from a challenge,” Joplin said. “Five things we have in common. Where were we? Right. Number three.”

  Make her leave, Kane told himself. Push her out the door. His fingers tightened on her waist as he gripped the bottle with his other hand. As usual, he ignored common sense.

  “Number three?” Kane asked.

  “Music. My first love, and yours, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Kane’s grip softened into a light caress. When Joplin didn’t object, he slid his hand lower until he encountered the first swell of her rounded backside.

  “We should work on a duet,” he whispered.

  “Sing? Me?” Joplin chuckled. “I’m a great listener, know what’s good, but I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

  “I could teach you.”

  What was he saying? A teacher? Kane didn’t have the patience. However, for Joplin, he might try.

  “Sweet of you to offer. I’ll save us both a boatload of frustration and say no.” Joplin tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Number four. Neither of us moved our education beyond high school. Yet, we didn’t stop learning. You love to read, as do I.”

  “What’s the last book you read?” Kane asked.

  “The End of Rainbows.”

  “The one Skye carries around like a bible,” he said, nodding. “I snuck a peek.”

  “Just a peek?” Joplin inquired.

  “Fine. I couldn’t put the book down,” Kane admitted. “Finished the whole thing, cover to cover, in one night.”

  “Same here. Someday, when someone makes a movie, Skye will be the perfect Laurel.”

  “Skye wants to be a movie star?” Kane asked. “She has the looks.”

  “She wants to act,” Joplin corrected his assumption. “On the stage. In movies. She’s held the dream close since she was a little girl.”

  “I wish her luck.” Kane’s natural cynicism surfaced. “She’ll need it.”

  “Dreams are important—whether realistic or unattainable,” Joplin said as she caressed his cheek. The smile on her lips matched the one in her eyes. “Skye may look like a fragile bird, easily broken. She isn’t. In the last month, I’ve watched her grow stronger. The next year, on the road, away from her family, will help her come into her own.”

  “Strong enough to make her way in Hollywood?” Kane scoffed at the idea. “Skye? They’ll eat her alive.”

  “Look beneath the surface,” Joplin told him. “Skye is a determined young woman. And talented. Mark my words, she’ll make her dreams come true.”

  Shaking his head at her eternal optimism, Kane set the bottle of tequila on the railing. Reaching behind Joplin’s head, he removed the clip she’d used to secure her hair and stifled a groan of pleasure as the tresses cascaded over his hand.

  Like a burst of sunshine against his skin. It was all he could do not to bury his face in the length of silky softness.

  Annoyed by anything that got in the way of her incredible eyes, Kane removed the horn-rimmed frames. He looked through the lens.

  “These aren’t prescription,” he said.

  “Glasses give me more of a professional air,” she explained with a shrug. “And remove the dumb blonde stigma.”

  “You don’t need a prop to prove your intelligence. Just open your mouth and speak.” Kane tossed the glasses onto the nearby table. “Anyone who doubts you will be blown away in five words or less.”

  “Oh,” Joplin sighed. “Oh, my.”

  Meeting her gaze—the irises deepening to a rich emerald green—Kane realized he wasn’t alone and adrift in his desire. She felt the electricity. And when she licked her bottom lip, the need for her hit like a Mack truck. To his surprise—his horror--he felt his knees wobble.

  “Number five,” Joplin said in a husky whisper.

  Five? Right, the list. Telling himself to concentrate—to not think with his dick for once—Kane realized the final thing he and Joplin had in common sizzled between them. So palpable, his nerve endings crackled with anticipation. A no-brainer, number five had to be their mutual case of unrequited passion.

  “Tell me,” he urged. Nothing would change, but he needed to hear the words pass her lips.

  “For the life of me, I can’t think of anything,” she said with a puzzled frown.

  To call Joplin’s answer unexpected would be the understatement of the century. Kane almost laughed except there was nothing funny about the twist in the story she’d set in motion.

  As his self-control unraveled before his eyes, Kane tried to do the right thing one more time.

  “You’ll owe me a kiss if you can’t come up with number five,” he reminded her. “Let me give you a hint.”

  Joplin’s fingers curled around the back of his neck. Even without heels, on tiptoe, her languid gaze was level with his mouth.

  “A hint would be cheating.” She raised her eyes to his. “And I never cheat.”

  “Joplin…”

  “What?” she cried out in frustration. “What?”

  Damn, she was cute. Kane swallowed his latest need to laugh because, if forced to explain his sudden chuckle, he doubted Joplin would appreciate his sense of humor.

  “Be honest,” Kane said, cursing his sudden streak of conscience. “You accepted my invitation for a drink because, with you around, you figured I wouldn’t empty the bottle.”

  If Kane thought the accusation would cool Joplin’s desire to kiss him, he was mistaken. With a sheepish smile, she shrugged.

  “Guilty,” she admitted. “But what law says I can’t have more than one motive?”

  “And the other would be…?” Kane left the question hanging though he already knew the answer.

  Inching closer, Joplin’s mouth was so close he could feel the caress of her breath against his skin.

  “Honestly?” She sighed, sending a hint of lemon scent into the air. “All I really want is this.”

  Joplin sank into the kiss as her arms wound around his shoulders. Her lips parted, an invitation to paradise. Kane hesitated. But, damn, he was only human. When what he craved—more than a shot of booze or a hit from the finest marijuana—how could he say no?

  Time for reasoning was over. Time for talk, a distant memory. Joplin was here, in his arms. Warm, willing, and welcoming. Kane groaned as he deepened the kiss.

  One sweet taste was all he needed to understand. Joplin was in his blood. Now, forever, always.

  “Better than I imagined,” Joplin gasped, licking her lips. She raised her eyes to his. “More. Don’t make me ask again.”

  “Never,” Kane promised.

  Deepening the kiss, the last of his control slipped through his fingers. She tasted like lemon with a touch of spice he couldn’t identify. She tasted like Joplin. She tasted like heaven.

  Why had he waited so long? Why did he deprive himself, suffer through long, lonely nights, when everything he could want had been within his reach?

  You aren’t good enough for her. The voice—his father’s—dripped with pure malevolence. You don’t deserve her, boy. Born rotten, die rotten, and spoil anything you touch along the way.

  Kane, his guard down, let Niles Harrison’s words seep into his brain. He hated the man. Hated that, even in death, the foul stench of the bastard’s influence could grip his guts with a hard, violent twist.

  Most of all, Kane hated what he couldn’t deny. His father spoke the truth.

  Taking Joplin by the arms, careful not to hurt or bruise, Kane stepped back. He knew better than to make excuses. For her sake, he needed to reach down to his rotten core and trample her feelings for him—once and for all.

  “I don’t s
crew virgins,” Kane said, his voice dripping with disdain.

  Obviously confused, hurt flitted through her eyes. Nobody’s shrinking violet, Joplin recovered her composure with admirable ease.

  “I didn’t ask you to screw me. And, FYI, I’m not a virgin,” she said. Crossing her arms, her expression turned quizzical. “Are you?”

  “A virgin?” This time, Kane did laugh. “Hardly. My dick has more mileage on it than a nineteen sixty’s muscle car. With more power than you could handle.”

  “Ugh.” Unimpressed, Joplin rolled her eyes. “You’ve slept with a lot of women. Big deal. The question is, when did you lose your virginity? My first time was after my junior prom.”

  “The prom?” Kane scoffed. “What a fucking cliché. My first time happened the night before—”

  Kane stopped himself before he went any further. He never talked about his past. Never. Not even Jax, who’d witnessed some of his darkest moments, knew the entire truth. The idea of telling Joplin, of watching her opinion of him sink to a new, irreparable low, was more than he could stand.

  “The night before what?” Joplin taunted. “Christmas? Big deal. I doubt you’re the first or last person to lose your virginity during the holidays.”

  Tell her, his father whispered, urging Kane on with a hiccup of gleeful anticipation. Unless you show her the depths of your depravity, she’ll never give up on you. She needs to know.

  “The night before I turned thirteen.” Kane didn’t raise his voice, but his heart raced—fast and hard. “Dear old Dad’s idea of the perfect birthday present. Popped the top on a can of Coke and slipped in a happy pill. Speed. Oxy. Who knows? Whatever he had lying around.”

  “Stop,” Joplin cried out as she covered her ears.

  Determined she hear every word, Kane locked her wrists between the fingers of his right hand. With the other, he reached for the tequila.

  “Stop a story before the ending? Where’s your curiosity?”

  “Kane—”

  “Dad had a girlfriend, always did. Mona, Monica?” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. They were always the same. Willing to do anything in exchange for their next hit. She didn’t argue when my father told her to make me a man. I was too out of it to care. But I performed like a stallion—her words. And damn, he was proud.”