Rhythms of Love

by Beverly Jenkins; Elaine Overton

  The only downside for Tristan was the secret fear that she would one day bring home a man and all hell would break loose. Because he did not see how he could stand by and watch her go into her bedroom with another man. But after two weeks of no one at all coming to the apartment, Tristan began to think that maybe the guys had exaggerated about her love life.

  “This has been the wettest summer I can remember,” Rayne said, standing at the window one Saturday morning as the pouring rain pelted the apartment.

  Tristan sat at the small desk with a pencil between his lips as he thumped out the latest chord of a song he was working on. “What’s that?”

  She stretched and came over to where he was sitting. “I said it’s wet out there. What are you working on?” She leaned over the back of the white leather desk chair to see the sheet of music on the desk.

  “Tell me what you think,” he said before strumming out the half-written song. When he finished, he looked up to find her looking at him with a strange expression.

  “I could spend my life listening to you sing,” she whispered.

  The atmosphere in the room seemed suddenly heavy, as if she’d said so much more than the few spoken words. Realizing she’d crossed some unseen boundary, Rayne stood straight and cleared her throat. “I like it. What’s it called?”

  He smiled and shrugged. “Don’t know yet.”

  “It’s very soulful…and a little sad.”

  “I know.” He nodded, still strumming a few notes. “I can’t control how a song comes to me. Sometimes I’ll sit down to write a ballad and end up with something hip-hop. Then again, I’ll be all charged about a beat—a fast tempo beat in my head, but when I get it on paper it’s something like this.”

  “Was this one of those songs you heard in your head?”

  He nodded, continuing to play. Suddenly he stopped. “But I only hear it when I’m near you.”

  He glanced up at her and their eyes locked for several long moments, neither willing to look away and break the connection and both afraid of where it was all leading.

  Finally, Rayne forced herself to turn away. She crossed the room and flopped down on the sofa.

  Taking her cue, Tristan forced his attention back to the guitar in his hands and the song in his mind. He strummed a few more random notes and asked again, “But you do like it?”

  A soft smile spread to a wide grin on Rayne’s face. “I love it. How could I not?” She clamped her hands together. “Okay, let me hear it again—this time, from the top.”

  Tristan played the song once more, this time trying to convey all the emotion he’d felt writing it, trying to tell her with his music what she’d come to mean to him.

  “Whoa,” she said with a heavy sigh once he was finished. “I can’t believe it has taken you so long to get serious about your music, but at the same time I’m glad it did because we wouldn’t have met otherwise.”

  “What did you call it?” he asked, leaning his elbow on his guitar as he searched his memory. “Providence.”

  “That’s right. Providence. It’s sorta like fate, huh?”

  “I’m a firm believer in providence. There is no such thing as coincidence.”

  He stared into her eyes. “You really believe that?”

  Her eyes widened. “Of course. Don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. But what makes you think I would?”

  “Well, it takes a pretty strong dose of faith to give up your stable life and try something altogether different.”

  “It’s not exactly different. I did play clubs in Albany.”

  “But you always knew that if it didn’t work out, you had your day job to fall back on.”

  “I still do.”

  She shook her head. “No, it won’t be the same now.”

  “You don’t think so?” he asked.

  “Try to think back to your last day at the school. Try to remember how that felt. And then consider how you feel today. Everything you’ve gone through since then.”

  “I see what you mean, maybe it wouldn’t be the same—but I could do it if I had to.”

  “But you won’t have to.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  She glanced at him with a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Well…I wasn’t going to say anything just yet, but Melvin is bringing a couple of his scouts by to hear you guys next week.”

  “Already?”

  “Tristan, you have to strike while the iron is hot and you guys are on fire! The word is really getting around town about Optimus Five. You’re the hottest thing going right now, and I want us to take full advantage of that while we can.”

  Tristan put his guitar to the side and leaned forward in the chair. “Rayne, not to sound ungrateful, but we’ve only been playing together for a couple of weeks. Don’t you think you’re moving a little fast?”

  “No, Tristan, you’ve only been playing with the band for a couple of weeks. The others have been waiting for this opportunity forever. You were the missing piece and now that we have you, why wait? And isn’t this what you came to New York for?”

  “I guess so. I just didn’t expect everything to happen so fast.”

  Rayne stood from the sofa and crossed the room to kneel before Tristan. Taking his hands in hers, she looked him directly in the eyes. “You know that old cliché about how opportunity only knocks once? It’s true, Tristan. I know from firsthand experience. When the moment is right, you only get one chance to make it happen. This is your moment.”

  Tristan stared back, seeing deeper than Rayne knew. “You’re talking about your acting career, aren’t you?”

  She sat back on her heels. “Yes.”

  “Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

  Rayne sat silently staring down at her hands where they rested on her thighs for so long Tristan was certain she wouldn’t answer. He was preparing to stand up when she finally spoke.

  “My mother happened.” She looked up at him. “I was betrayed by the one person who was supposed to take care of me.”

  Tristan slid out of the chair to sit next to her on the floor, his legs tucked beneath him. He said nothing, simply waited for her to continue.

  Finally she did. “She started putting me in commercials before I could walk. For the first fifteen years of my life, I worked almost nonstop.” She looked at him and for the first time, he saw tears in her pretty eyes. “I worked my whole life and she took everything. She spent every dime of my money that was required by law to be put in a trust because I was underaged. But she was the trustee.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Tristan reached out and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” He smoothed her hair back away from her face as she gave in to the tears.

  “I try not to think about it too often. About how different life would’ve been for me if she had not done what she did. But sometimes it just all comes rushing back.” She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and Tristan knew he could not have stopped what came next.

  “Shh.” Leaning her back against the carpet, he covered her mouth with his mouth, rolled over and covered her body, as well. “Don’t think about it. Think about this.” Slowly, he kissed along her neckline, savoring her smell, the feel of her soft skin against his lips. He’d wanted this from the moment he met her and now she was here, in his arms, and it was better than he’d imagined it would feel.

  Letting his hands roam over her body, Tristan slowly unbuttoned the pajama top revealing the twin mounds that haunted his dreams. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, finding himself in awe of her perfection.

  Rayne reached up and pulled his head to her breast, silently telling him what she wanted and Tristan was more than happy to oblige. Her busy hands found their way inside his T-shirt, pulling and tugging and he quickly pulled it over his head, bringing them flesh to flesh for the first time.

  The feel of her hardened nipples against his bare skin was almost enough to send him over the edge, bu
t he held back. Moving from over her, he leaned up on one elbow and looked at the half-naked woman in his arms. Her lips swollen with his kisses, her eyes dazed with lust and…vulnerability.

  What am I doing? Tristan sat up suddenly. “I’m sorry, I had no right. I—” He stood and hurried down the hall to his bedroom. He went straight into the bathroom to the sink and, turning on the cold water, splashed his face repeatedly trying to cool his burning blood.

  Tristan had wanted Rayne for what seemed like an eternity, but not like this, not when she was in such a vulnerable state. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to regain some control over himself.

  Suddenly, he felt warm, gentle hands sliding over his rib cage as she pressed herself against his back.

  Tristan felt his slow heartbeat begin to accelerate once again as her busy fingers continued their exploration of his body. Using all the willpower he could muster, Tristan covered her hands to stop their slow progression, opened his eyes and looked at her beautiful reflection in the mirror.

  As if sensing his question, Rayne said, “Tristan, I know what I’m doing. I want you.”

  He knew he was only holding on to his self-control by the thinnest thread; his dark eyes pierced hers in the mirror. “Are you sure?”

  Her answer was to lean up and run her tongue over his earlobe. In an instant, Tristan had swooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. Maybe it was wrong, he thought, but he wouldn’t ask twice.

  Without thought of the consequences, with no care for what tomorrow would bring them, he slid her pajama pants down her legs, pleasantly surprised to see she did not sleep in underwear. For a brief moment, he wondered if she slept in pajamas at all. The loose-fitting, cotton sleepwear had seemed out of place on her from the first time he saw her in it and now he wondered if she wore them for his benefit. After tonight, he thought, he would burn the damn things.

  Gently, his hand found its way up her long calf and her athletic thigh, to the center of her womanhood and he almost shouted when he realized she was wet for him already. Her body was as prepared as it would ever be.

  Tristan sat back and quickly disrobed, and with a fluid motion he guided himself inside her body. Taking a deep breath as the hot opening enveloped him, slowly giving way to his size until he was planted deep inside her.

  Rayne felt as if the whole world was spinning as she held on to his shoulders. Her breathing had become shallow as she struggled to hold off on her release.

  Finally! Her aching body had craved this man for so long, but she’d fought the hunger for all the reasons life had taught her. He was too young. He was a musician and her employee…and as of late, he’d become her friend. She didn’t want to jeopardize all of that for the hot sex she knew they would have together.

  But, now that he was inside her, all those reasons seemed ridiculous. How much longer could she have resisted this? Slowly, he began to move inside her, lifting her legs over his thighs, opening her, and it was simply all she could do to hold on to his broad shoulder and bury her head against his neck to keep from crying out in pleasure.

  He felt so right. More right than anything she had felt in a very long time. What he was doing to her, she felt in every part of her body. It wasn’t the typical quick, physical release, but more like a downpour of the ultimate gratification.

  She clutched his shoulders as the soft moan escaped her lips, her mouth on his neck, on his cheek, searching for his lips so she could tell him with her kiss what she knew in her heart. This was not just two people having sex, this was a bonding, a connecting, and neither of them would be the same afterward.

  Tristan broke the kiss long enough to whisper in her ear, “Let it go, baby. Give it to me.”

  Unable to deny him anything, Rayne felt her whole body vibrating with an uncontrollable wildness as orgasm after orgasm took her over. Soon she felt Tristan’s arms tighten around her as his essence filled her and he followed her over the edge.

  Chapter 5

  After that afternoon, things seem to fall into place so quickly, Tristan was left with his head spinning. He and Rayne became inseparable outside of the club, but somehow they managed to keep the interaction at work on a strictly professional level.

  Tristan finally gave in to the credit card companies and asked them to send the cards to his parents’ home, which was one of the addresses they had on file. Which meant he had to let his family know that he’d lost his cards. Giving as little detail as possible he explained that he’d moved in with a friend and asked that they forward the cards to the address he gave.

  When they weren’t working or making love, Tristan and Rayne were seeing the sights of New York. Despite her previous objections to his hotel, Rayne seemed determined to take Tristan to every tourist trap in the city. He silently wondered if it was some kind of new New Yorker initiation.

  And regardless of the fact that they talked to each other constantly, they never seemed to run out of conversation. Tristan told her all about his close-knit family and how they had, for the most part, supported his desire to pursue his music. He told her about the kids he taught and the pleasure he’d found in teaching.

  Rayne told him about her experiences as a child actress, both good and bad. Like the fun in being famous and having people eager to fulfill your every wish. But she also shared the painful experiences of being her mother’s daughter.

  Monique Phillips had burned more than her fair share of bridges over the years with little regard for how her actions affected her daughter. Everything from repeatedly having affairs with the commercial directors to demanding script rewrites. But when the affairs went sour or the producers got fed up with Monique’s ridiculous requests it was Rayne who was canned, not her mother.

  And despite Monique constantly dragging her from one audition to the next, the pair still spent most of Rayne’s childhood living hand to mouth. As Rayne grew older and began to mature, Monique seemed to become more desperate, lying about her age to producers, forcing her to tape down her budding breasts until there was no way to deny she was becoming a woman. Monique acted as if by maturing Rayne was somehow being deliberately defiant. Her antics and demands grew more and more outrageous until anyone considering using the beautiful girl-child with the sweet disposition in their commercials shied away at the prospect of dealing with her psychotic mother. In other words, by the time Rayne was able to take control of her own career, her professional reputation had already been destroyed.

  One quiet Sunday afternoon, as they were walking along an avenue not far from Rayne’s apartment, something in a shop window caught Rayne’s eye. She stopped and peered at the little dragon amulet.

  Tristan came up beside her to see what had caught her eye. “What’s with you and dragons?”

  She shrugged. “I just like mythical creatures.”

  “You are a mythical creature.”

  She smiled at him over her shoulders. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that you’re like magic,” he said wistfully, studying her profile as she continued to examine the pieces in the display.

  “No more magical than gorgeous lead singers who show up out of nowhere.”

  His mouth twisted in a smirk. “I know it’s not the big city, but Albany is not exactly nowhere. And I didn’t just show up—I answered your ad in the newspaper.”

  “Shush! Stop trying to ruin my fantasy.”

  For some reason the statement struck him as odd. Tristan turned her to face him. “I’m no fantasy. No mythical creature who’s just going to disappear when you’re done with him. I’m real, Rayne. And I plan to stay.”

  She looked into his eyes as if trying to determine his sincerity. Then, without a word, she turned back to the window to continue examining the displays.

  He noticed a beautiful yellow diamond solitaire had caught her eye. He wasn’t surprised. The window was lined with perfect traditional white diamonds in typical settings and various other stones. But the yellow diamond was by far th
e most unique thing in the window, just like everything about Rayne.

  “That would make a beautiful engagement ring,” he said quietly.

  She stood straight up as if he’d just poked her in the spine. “Or a nice centerpiece in a tiara.” She turned with a huge smile, holding her hands over her head in the shape of an invisible tiara. “What do you think?”

  I think you’re ducking the subject—again, Tristan thought, but simply smiled instead. “Princess Rayne, I like it.”

  Together they continued down the avenue, each lost to their own thoughts.

  Tristan was remembering exactly why he never broached the subject of their future. They never made plans beyond where to eat at night, but Tristan accepted it because he understood Rayne would need time to get used to the idea of a committed relationship. He wasn’t worried because when they were at the club or out in public she showed no interest in other men.

  Rayne, on the other hand, was hoping and praying he never said anything like that again. She was not the marrying type, and her relationship with Tristan was so perfect as it was, she had no desire to end it this soon. If he started talking marriage she would have to. One of the few lessons Monique had been successful in teaching her daughter was that there is no such thing as happily-ever-after, only heartbreak and disappointment, and those were not emotions she ever wanted to associate with Tristan.

  Tristan soon discovered there were other benefits of his new relationship with Rayne. His musical creativity blossomed like a rose in the sun. He began to write complete songs in one sitting, and each of them revolved around Rayne and how she made him feel. He would play the new songs for her and she would listen with rapt attention.