ALMOST PARADISE

by Williams, Mary J.

  “The young woman who usually sings with us couldn’t be here.” He heard Kane snicker and barely kept a straight face when a voice in the back shouted thank God. “However, a young lady most of you already know has agreed to do us a huge favor and step in at the last second.”

  “I’ll be the judge of who’s doing who a favor,” Kane groused. Luckily, his hand was over the microphone.

  Asshole, Jax mouthed, his head turned from the audience.

  “Put your hands together,” he continued, “and give a big welcome to Skye Monroe.”

  Jax could hear the chatter, mumbles of who the hell is Skye Monroe?

  Louder, more vocal, was the groundswell of encouraging cheers. Skye hung back, shaking her head. However, too many people recognized her, propelling her forward in a spontaneous wave of enthusiasm, eager to hear one of their own perform.

  Halfway, Dragon appeared. Taking Skye by the hand, he escorted her the rest of the way, using his big body to part the crowd.

  “Give me your apron,” he told her before she stepped on stage.

  In a daze, Skye untied the string around her waist, but not without protest.

  “What about my tables?” she asked as Dragon transferred her hand from his to Jax’s. “Marcy and Paula can’t take orders and clear the empty glasses by themselves.”

  “They’ll survive through one song.” Bald head gleaming with a fine layer of perspiration, Dragon crossed his thick arms across his chest. “Besides, I’ve bussed a table or two in my day. In a pinch, I can do so again.”

  Jax settled her next to him to share his microphone.

  “No backing out now.”

  “Remember, I have no experience—and no training.” When Jax shrugged off her warning, Skye let out a resigned sigh. “Your funeral.”

  Maybe, as Kane suspected, Jax’s raging hormones had replaced his good sense, his need to put music before anything else. Maybe pressuring Skye onto the stage was a mistake, for her, and the band.

  Crazy, but Jax knew his instincts were right. His gut had never led him astray before, why should tonight be different?

  “Forget the audience,” Jax whispered for her ears only. “Forget everything but the song, and me. And Skye?”

  “Yes?” Her voice wavered.

  “Don’t forget to breathe.”

  The music started, the familiar notes moving from his brain to his fingers to the strings of his guitar.

  Whatcha doing, girl? Circling my heart? Searching for my soul?

  Sending Jax a tentative smile, Skye nodded as she filled her lungs with air.

  What’s your problem, boy? Afraid to let me in? Always questioning my role?

  Jax knew the words by heart. He’d sung the lyrics, alone and with a partner, a thousand and one times. With Skye, the song felt brand new. And for the first time, he understood the difference between performing to an audience and feeling each nuanced emotion down to his bones.

  The world narrowed to the two of them. Eyes locked, their voices blended in a swirling intimacy so intense, so hot, as the last word brushed past Skye’s lips, Jax wondered why the stage under their feet didn’t burst into flames.

  The reaction from the crowd shook the rafters.

  “Holy shit.” Kane threw his head back in amazed laughter.

  Beck and Morgan seemed equally stunned, goofy grins on their faces.

  Jax forgot his bandmates. Forgot the hundreds of eyes watching from the audience. Skye was all he could see. Sliding his fingers through her hair until his hands cupped her head, pulled her toward him.

  She didn’t protest or hesitate. Still in the trance weaved by their song, she walked into his arms.

  The kiss was everything Jax’s vivid fantasies had conjured, only better. Skye responded, molded her body to his as if they’d known each other for a lifetime. Yet, the feel of her lips on his was sparkling and new. Her moan of pleasure hummed over his mouth, encouraging him to deepen the connection.

  “Get a room!” someone shouted.

  Jax didn’t care, he would have been content for their kiss to go on forever, the hell with what anyone thought. He quickly discovered Skye wasn’t as blasé about public displays of affection.

  “Stop!” she gasped, her body stiffening. “Please.”

  “Easy,” Jax soothed. “We got carried away. Next time we kiss, I promise, no witnesses.”

  A swirl of jumbled emotions flickered through Skye’s dark, expressive eyes. First, wonder as she touched her kiss-swollen lips. Then panic chased by sadness melded with something Jax couldn’t quite identify.

  “Thank you,” she gasped, pulling from his arms. “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry? For what? Giving him the best kiss of his life? Tasting like a bite of sun-ripened peach savored straight from the tree? Or fitting in his arms like a woman made just for him?

  Skye ran from the stage before Jax had time to ask. His instincts told him to follow, but…

  “Go after her,” Kane urged, reading his mind. “We can get through the last song on our own.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Beck met his questioning gaze and nodded.

  “Finish what you started, son,” Morgan chuckled. “Won’t be any living with you if you don’t.”

  With his friend’s permission secured, Jax surged through the crowd, his long legs eating up the distance. He was a lucky man to have friends who kicked his ass when necessary, razzed him like crazy on a regular basis, and had his back one hundred percent of the time.

  Confident the show would go on without him, Jax’s focus moved to Skye. Why did she run? True, a red-hot kiss—their first—was better shared alone. But she wasn’t shy, far from it.

  What flashed in her eyes went beyond embarrassment. Something spooked her. He was determined to find out what.

  Jax checked the small breakroom. Stuffed with two chairs and a wobbly table, unless Skye magically contorted her body into one of the six lunchbox-sized lockers, he needed to keep looking.

  “Excuse me.” Jax stopped a young woman on her way back to the bar. “Have you seen—”

  “Lost Skye already? You won’t find her in the bathroom.” The little brunette’s smile turned predatory. “I’ll be happy to ditch my date if you want a substitute. Or, a three-way. Hell, I’m game to take on the whole band and your girlfriend.”

  “Can’t speak for anyone else, but no.”

  God, no. Jax dislodged the sleeve of his shirt from her long, red claws and backed away, concerned if he turned, she might attack.

  “My date seems up for anything—if you or your friends swing in his direction.”

  “Again, you’ll have to ask them. I’m not interested.”

  Jax slipped through the back exit. He hated to throw the guys under the bus, but they’d understand. Knowing Kane, the brunette might get lucky—sans boyfriend.

  The parking behind the bar was as full as the front, cars jammed in at odd angles, resulting in a tangled mess. If someone in the back decided to leave early, they were out of luck.

  Conversely, the bad parking turned out to be good news for Jax. Skye’s beat-up Escort was blocked on three sides, four if you counted the oak tree buffeting the front bumper.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” Skye cursed, kicking the tire of a blue Chevy truck. The cab was so close to her car, she could barely get the key in the lock, let alone open the door wide enough to slide behind the wheel.

  “You’re stuck.”

  Didn’t take a genius to state the obvious, but Jax was so relieved Skye hadn’t vanished into the night, he gave himself a pass. She wasn’t as forgiving.

  “Your observation skills are top notch.” Sarcasm, layered over frustration, dripped from her voice.

  At least she hadn’t called him a name. Numbnuts, for example. Or dickhead. Jax stifled a laugh when he realized such derogatory terms were thrown around by Kane, or Beck, or Morgan, not Skye.

  Jax really needed to widen his circ
le of friends. Skye would be the perfect addition—if he didn’t live the life of a wandering troubadour. Still, they had tonight.

  “I can give you a ride—if you’re in a hurry. Or, we can sit under the tree until your car gets unblocked, while you explain why you ran away.”

  “Called my dad.” Skye dropped her phone into the side of her backpack. “He should be here in a few minutes.”

  “Enough time to talk.”

  “I have nothing to say.”

  Jax leaned against the side of her car. The moon bathed her face in a soft light, creating an iridescent glow. The first time they met, he thought she was beautiful. He was wrong.

  A beautiful woman was easy to find. Skye possessed a rare, indefinable something. Hard to ignore, impossible to forget. Jax knew if, God forbid, they never met again, her image was now indelibly burned into his brain.

  “Why did you thank me?” When she didn’t answer, he tried again, pushing in a direction he thought sure to get a response. “You wouldn’t be the first woman I kissed who swooned with gratitude.

  “Swooned?” Skye’s lip curled into a sneer. “Listen, Rhett. If you need a Scarlett O’Hara for some kinky Gone with the Wind fantasy, you picked the wrong woman.”

  “The antebellum South isn’t my idea of sexy.” Jax rolled his eyes at the idea. “On the other hand, if you like a little kink—nothing too hardcore—I’m more than happy to play along.”

  Crossing her arms, Skye let out a derisive snort.

  “Fifty Shades of not in my lifetime.”

  Fascinating, sexy, with a voice sent from the gods, and a sense of humor? The more he learned about Skye Monroe, the more he liked her. Seemed she was everything he never knew he wanted in a woman.

  For someone he barely knew, Skye could frustrate the hell out of him, on so many levels. Yet, he admired her strong character. Including the single-minded determination to avoid his question.

  Jax could be just as stubborn.

  “Fess up. Why did you thank me?”

  “You pushed me to perform, to sing in public—something I never thought I’d do.” Her smile was reluctant but unmistakable. “Once the impulse to kill you passed, I loved every second.”

  “You’re a born performer.” Jax didn’t believe in boosting someone’s ego with false praise. When he gave a compliment, he meant every word. “Did you take lessons?”

  “My mother—”

  “What about her?”

  “I loved to listen to her sing.” Skye sighed. “Been a long time.”

  Whatever happened to her mother, Jax could tell by the dull and blunted edge of her voice, the wound still hurt but wasn’t fresh. Enough time had passed to take away the worst of the biting pain.

  “After you thanked me, you apologized.”

  “Could be I’m shy about my kissing skills.”

  Jax snorted, certain she must be joking. The woman could teach a masterclass on the art.

  “Could be you have a different reason.”

  Certain he would get his answer, Jax cursed when they were interrupted by the sound of a wheezing, coughing engine. When the car, headlights on high beam, pulled into the parking lot, Skye sent him a look of panic.

  “Stay out of sight.”

  “But—”

  “Please. My father takes overprotective to a new level.”

  “Okay.” Jax took Skye’s hand as she tried to pass. “If you promise to meet me tomorrow.”

  “Jax…”

  “Promise.”

  At any second, the slowly creeping car’s lights would reveal their hiding spot. Knowing she had no choice, Skye let out an annoyed huff.

  “Someplace we won’t be seen.”

  “The motel. Room six. Any time.”

  “Nine o’clock.”

  Unable to resist, Jax cupped Skye’s neck, holding her still for another kiss. The little noise she made, her moan of consent, almost eviscerated his good intentions. Dropping his hands, he tore his lips from hers. When he made a concerted effort, he could put his libido on hold. One last brush of his lips over hers, and he took refuge in the shadows, behind the sprawling oak.

  Skye squeezed past the truck, into the lighted parking lot.

  “Damn entitled kids,” Skye’s father groused as he braked. He eyed her blocked car with a furrowed brow. “Snot-nosed, trust-fund bastards think they own the world.”

  “No one with a trust fund goes to college here, Dad,” Skye said as she tugged on the passenger door. Seemed battered vehicles ran in the family. Rather than fight a losing battle, she gave up, crawling into the backseat through the open window.

  “More money than we’ll ever have.”

  If Skye had a response, Jax couldn’t tell. The car lurched forward in a puff of exhaust fumes, creating a noise so loud, he ducked, certain he was under fire. Frowning, he waited until the car—broken taillight and all—disappeared down the road to head back to the bar.

  Jax knew Skye’s homelife was none of his business, but he cared about her. She said her father was overprotective. Was the word code for abusive? He hadn’t noticed any physical signs, like the bruises Kane used to carry around on a regular basis courtesy of his father’s ham-like fists.

  Still, abuse came in many forms, and Jax was far from an expert on the subject. Skye seemed confident, an independent young woman who didn’t cower from anyone.

  Then again, Kane had never turned into a shrinking violet, even during the worst period of his father’s abuse. His friend held his head high, daring anyone to comment on his latest black eye or split lip.

  Jax kept Kane’s secret, reluctantly. If he could go back, would he tell his parents? Probably not. The friendship code between boys was foolish but powerful. Still was. Luckily, Kane survived.

  No longer a kid, he wasn’t bound by promises made in youthful earnestness. If he thought Skye was in danger, he wouldn’t hesitate to report her father to the authorities—and get her out from under the bastard’s roof, fast as humanly possible.

  Jax gave himself a firm mental shake. He had nothing to offer Skye. Certainly not the promise of a relationship. Before they met, he was sure he had too many wild oats left to sow, too many paths to choose from. Now? He couldn’t be sure.

  A time machine would be nice. The ability to zip into the future when he was successful and ready to settle down with one woman.

  Fuck the time machine. He looked forward to all the unknown steps still ahead of him. If he skipped the struggle, how could he fully enjoy the triumph?

  Shaking his head, Jax ran a hand over his face. What he needed was to shut down his brain for a few hours, then focus his imagination on songwriting instead of looking for trouble where none existed.

  Skye had her own life to live, her own decisions to make about the future. When they met tomorrow, the best thing would be a heartfelt goodbye followed by a clean break.

  If only the best thing for Skye, for him, for everyone involved, didn’t tie Jax’s stomach into a massive knot.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ♫~♫~♫

  AS HE ENTERED the bar, Jax was greeted by the familiar sound of Kane’s raspy vocals entreating a woman to Take Me as I Am. Surprised Razor’s Edge was still on stage, he kept to the back of the room and out of sight.

  Removing the filter of self-criticism, Jax watched as a fan, listened, as a music lover, not a member of the band. They’re good, he decided.

  Beck and Morgan had the talent to take the lead, but neither possessed the ambition. On the other hand, Kane, charismatic, hungry, had frontman written all over him. Like Jax, he could go out on his own tomorrow, the potential for a great solo career endless.

  Except for one thing. When they reached the top, the air would be all the sweeter, brothers standing side by side. Alone, success might be within reach. Together, they would soar.

  “We’re Razor’s Edge.” Kane beamed at the appreciative crowd. “Thank you for coming out. Good night. And,
if you’ve had one too many, don’t drive. We want to see you all again sometime.”

  “Good advice.” Jax hopped onto the stage. “Especially from a man who’s always one beer away from too many.”

  “Ever seen me drink and drive?”

  “Never seen you drive,” Beck chimed in. “Period.”

  “There you go.” Kane lifted his latest drink in a mock salute. “Half-buzzed beats putting the ‘pedal to the metal’ any day.”

  No one commented, mostly because Kane had yet to cross the line between a social drinker and problem alcoholic. Until then, they skirted the subject with practiced caution.

  “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon, Jax.” Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Lose your load embarrassingly soon?”

  “Premature ejaculation is nothing to joke about,” Kane admonished, sending Morgan a wink. “Obviously, Jax has issues with his control. As his friends, we need to stand by him in his time of need.”

  “You stand by him,” Beck quipped. “You’ll find me a good twenty paces back—to avoid the splatter.”

  “No reason to be squeamish.” Morgan's lips twitched, a twinkle in his eyes. “Jax’s bodily fluid is no different from yours.”

  “Technically, you’re correct.” Beck nodded in convivial agreement. “However, my policy is clear. I never go near another man’s spunk.”

  “Hey, assholes,” Jax growled. “First, my ejaculation is not premature. Second, stop talking about my spunk.”

  “Sorry to interrupt.” To Kane’s right, a young woman cleared her throat. “Could I have a few minutes of your time.”

  Jax swallowed a groan. Be just their luck if the pretty blonde wrote for the college newspaper. Though to be fair, with her glasses and earnest expression, she didn’t look like the type to blast a headline about his sperm.

  Beck and Morgan seemed equally embarrassed. Not Kane. He didn’t have a self-conscious bone in his body. He leaned toward her, laying on the charm.

  “I’ve seen you in the audience the last few weeks. Watching. Waiting. Too bad you didn’t make your move sooner. No problem.” His eyes lowered to her mouth. “We still have tonight.”