Ruben lifted both hands and stepped away, giving her space. One of the stagehands moved forward and tilted the mic to the level of her lips.
“So what are we going to sing, baby girl?” Jim asked.
Margaret placed her fingers to the keys, ran through a couple of familiar chords. “It’s baby girl now? What happened to your future wife?”
Jim’s grin lit the stage. “Honey, if you were my wife, I’d be dead before morning.”
The audience laughed.
Val found himself enjoying the banter.
Margaret found Jim’s eyes, danced her fingers over the keyboard, letting everyone know she knew her way around the instrument. “Something fast and sweaty, Jim?”
Jim pulled at his collar, let her run the show.
She slowed the tune, made the room sigh. “Something slow and sensual?”
It was Val’s turn to tug at his tie.
“Baby doll, you pick, and I’ll just try and keep up.”
Margaret lifted her hands, rubbed them together, and started. “I think you might know this one.”
It took two chords for the audience to recognize the tune. “Ever been to San Francisco, Jim?” She kept playing.
Jim closed his eyes and waited, as did Val, until Margaret leaned into the mic and took command of the first few lines of “Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay.”
Jim let out a whoop of approval and sat on the dock with her. When Margaret left her home in Georgia, the glassware in the room rang with the pitch-perfect tone of her voice.
They bounced between lines in the song like they’d done it before. The rest of the band sat back and listened.
It was Margaret, Jim, and a lone piano. They harmonized with the chorus, let each other take center stage for a line, then gave it up to the other for the next.
Her voice easily bounced over the ending notes to the song, bringing it home with both of them pleasing the audience.
Everyone stood, and Jim offered a hand to Margaret as she stepped down from the platform the keyboard was perched on.
The woman glowed.
Jim kissed her again, squeezed her waist, and walked her offstage.
“Baby girl, you can sing with me anytime.”
She’d just belted out one of her favorite songs with Jim Lewis and lost herself in the music. Meg couldn’t stop smiling.
Michael kissed both her cheeks when she returned to the table. “You were phenomenal. I had no idea.”
Ryder pulled out her chair and they listened to Jim’s next song.
When the lights came back up between sets, they ordered another round of drinks and Jim made his way offstage and to their side.
“I don’t know what you’re doing working in an office with a voice like that,” he told her.
She’d probably stop smiling sometime near Christmas. “Does that mean I can keep the video?”
“So long as I have a copy.” He shook the men’s hands. “I need to pollute my lungs,” he said before he turned and left.
Meg accepted the kind words of those around them. But when she looked around, she didn’t see Masini anywhere.
When Jim finished singing for the evening, the house band continued to play.
Michael and Ryder were talking in low tones when Gabi sat next to her. “You were amazing.”
“Jim’s the pro. I’m the window candy.”
Gabi continued to deny the claim when Michael interrupted them. “We’re going to head back.”
Meg took one look at them and decided three was a crowd. “I’m going to stay here a bit longer.”
Michael handed her the key to the golf cart. “We’ll walk back.”
Gabi sat back, nodded at the retreating men. “So what’s with the friend?”
“Ryder?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s an old friend. Just went through a breakup. Since Michael has a crazy schedule, he decided to invite him down to cheer him up.”
The excuse worked. “Seems lots of celebrities like to combine friends and family when they can. I don’t think I’d want to be so busy I couldn’t do both.”
“Do you think you’re going to be busy once you’re married to a winemaker?”
Gabi smiled. “I honestly don’t know what my life is going to look like when Alonzo and I marry. He seems to think I’ll stay here most of the time while he runs the vineyards.”
“You’ll live separately?” That sounded like an Alliance marriage. “Until the California property is ready for us.”
“Won’t that be difficult? It seems you’re close to your family.”
“It’s time I found my own place. Val has had the burden of watching over both of us for years. My mother can always move close to me.”
“Alonzo is OK with that?” Meg couldn’t imagine having a parent living that close. Then again, Meg visited with her parents on occasion, but didn’t pine for their presence.
“Like I said, we haven’t really discussed it.”
Meg couldn’t help but wonder what they had talked about. For a bride-to-be, Gabi had little idea of what married life was going to look like.
“Miss Masini?” One of the waiters interrupted them. “I’m sorry to bother you, but there seems to be a problem and I’m not sure where Mr. Masini is.”
Gabi stood. “I’m sorry.”
“No, please. I was just about to step outside.”
Much of the club had cleared out. Meg stepped out into the warm Caribbean evening and headed in the opposite direction of her villa. The last thing she wanted to do was interrupt Michael and Ryder. Besides, it was too nice a night and she was still riding high from her moment onstage with Jim. She couldn’t wait to see the recording.
She itched to pull out a cell phone and text Judy with the evening’s events. That would have to wait.
Meg walked along the wide porch of the main building. The outside patio where the restaurant spilled was free of couples.
She stopped long enough to enjoy the gentle waves lapping on the shore, watched the light from the building twinkle on the water.
She understood why Val would live where he worked. The view, the temperature of the air and water, was perfect.
The piano used to entertain guests outside stood covered for the night. Meg approached it, touched the edges of the covering briefly before pulling it back.
There was something about the sound of a baby grand that no other piano could capture. For an instrument that spent many days outside, it was tuned to perfection. Meg looked over the water, let a few chords of the song she’d sang earlier play.
She wondered if Val enjoyed her performance, and wondered even more why she thought about him now.
Meg slowed her fingers and lent her voice to the song of desire and want. It was sultry and a little sad, and fit her mood. When she finished she let the piano fade and heard a lone clap.
Val leaned against the railing, his tie loose on his neck.
The man was too delicious for his own good.
Meg offered a smile and nodded a tiny bow. “Well thank you, kind sir.”
“You were brilliant tonight,” he said from the shadows.
His approval warmed her. “I enjoyed myself.”
“Everyone could tell.” He pushed away from the rail and leaned over the piano. “How long have you played?”
Not knowing what to do with his attention honed in on her, Meg plucked at the keys softly. “My parents always had instruments in the house. They were too young for Woodstock, but if they could, they would have run around naked with a guitar covering their goods.”
“They taught you?”
“More like I taught myself. Formal education wasn’t important to them.” She played a few notes of Bach, switched to Pink Floyd.
“Can you read music?”
“I get by. My high school choir teacher said I had a talented ear.”
“And voice.”
She smiled, caught the scent of Val’s skin. “That and an open guitar case might h
ave made me a few bucks on a city corner.”
“You weren’t willing to risk a roof over your head for the dream of a singing career.” His observation was on-target.
“My parents live week by week, Masini. I didn’t want that.” The music coming from the piano started to sound dark. Meg purposely switched it to something quick and lively. “What about you? Ever want something different in your life that you didn’t go for?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she glanced up to find him studying her.
“Not yet.”
“Sounds like there’s something.”
He brushed the side of her face with the back of his hand, moved closer.
Meg stopped playing, felt her pulse jump.
“Where’s Michael?” Val whispered.
“Michael?” The name didn’t register.
Val lifted his left eyebrow. “The man you’re here with.”
Right. “He’s a . . .” Damn, he smelled edible.
Val’s palm captured her neck and guided her to her feet. “He’s just a friend, isn’t he, Margaret?”
The way Val’s lips moved drew her closer. The need to taste them, feel them on hers was impossible to walk away from. “If I told you we were more than friends . . .”
Val’s eyes traveled from her lips to her eyes. “Then I’d have to let you go.” He loosened his fingers on her neck, but instead of moving away, Meg leaned in.
“Sounds like you might regret that decision.” She laid a hand on his firm chest. The man wasn’t soft under his stuffy suits.
“I don’t pursue another man’s woman.”
He wasn’t moving away.
“Good to hear, Masini.” She lifted her lips close to his, felt his breath mix with hers. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
Val hesitated for a nanosecond, and then took her lips. His closed-mouth kiss started off soft, like a hesitant man worried about rushing. Yet when Val wrapped his free hand around her waist, and his body fit against hers, Meg opened for him, encouraged him to taste.
When he did, she lost it. He tasted of bourbon and sex. God help her, she wanted to crawl into his kiss and explore it for hours. The man kissed like he was on a mission. And maybe he was. Who knew if Val Masini made it a weekly occurrence to kiss a new woman? Somehow, she didn’t think so. He was too reserved most of the time.
Not now . . . not with his tongue exploring hers and his strong hands pressing the small of her back closer. Every hard ridge of the man met with every soft curve of hers.
The kiss went on until she found her chest tightening with a familiar warning. Sexual excitement had to be paced or she might find herself in a full-blown asthma attack. A frustrating fact of her life in the last few years. One that kept her single most of the time, her encounters lukewarm at best.
Val was threatening the air in her lungs with just a kiss.
A heated knock her on her ass kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.
She eased away and Val chased her lips.
She tried to slow her breathing, couldn’t catch a deep breath. “Wait,” she managed, pulling away.
“Too much, cara?”
You have no idea.
She reached out, felt her head spin a little. Her inhaler was in her purse. Her next two breaths didn’t satisfy the need for air. Instead of trying to fake her way out of his arms, she gave him a tiny shove. “Can’t. Breathe.”
He smiled, then the smile fell when he realized she wasn’t being cute. “Are you OK?”
“Purse.”
He guided her to the bench and handed her the clutch.
The rescue inhaler did its job, and she managed a few deep breaths and felt her pace slow.
Val knelt beside her, watching with his hands at her sides. “Are you all right?”
Embarrassed, she nodded. “It doesn’t always come on like that.”
Concern brought his eyebrows together. “Should I call a medic?”
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “No.” The tightness passed, slowly. “I can usually avoid this. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Val squeezed her thighs. “I want you breathless, but not like that.”
Meg smiled. “You can add lethal kisser to your resume.”
He captured her hands, brought them to his lips. “Is it always like that?”
“No. Just when . . .” Admitting she was turned on by a simple kiss didn’t feel right, not after a first kiss.
Holy crap . . . she’d just kissed Val Masini. And here she was on an island posing as Michael’s girlfriend. What was wrong with her?
She tried to stand up. “I should go.”
Val pushed her back down. “Wait.”
“I really shouldn’t be out here with you . . . like this.”
His gaze narrowed. “You said you didn’t belong to him.”
“I don’t. But that isn’t the point.”
There was knowledge behind his eyes, and a sense of confidence that Meg wasn’t used to with the men she’d been with. “OK, Margaret. I’ll let you run away . . . for now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we’re not done.”
“Cocky much, Masini?”
He didn’t answer, just stood, and helped her to her feet.
“I can make it on my own,” she said when he started walking alongside her.
“I’m sure you can. But I’m not leaving your side until you’re at the door to your villa.”
Arguing took too much effort, and besides, she wasn’t stupid. Her lungs were still a little tight, and exerting herself without someone close by was a recipe for disaster. “Fine.”
Val laughed, and kept a hand on her back as he walked her to the golf cart to take her home.
Chapter Nine
“Someone came in late last night,” Michael started in while he poured a morning cup of coffee.
“Someone turned in early last night,” Meg countered.
Michael took the first sip of his coffee and closed his eyes with the pleasure of it. “Damn I feel good.”
“Sex will do that to ya.”
Michael wiggled his eyebrows and sat at the kitchen counter.
“Where is Ryder?”
“He’s an early riser. Decided on a morning jog on the beach. Utah is surprisingly shy of shoreline.”
Meg rested her chin on her hands. “I don’t think I’ve seen you glow, Michael.”
He snapped up in mock surprise. “Men don’t glow.”
“Bullshit on that.”
Michael stared into his coffee cup for a few seconds. “I wonder, sometimes, what it would be like to live with someone . . .”
“Like Ryder?”
“Like Ryder.” The smile on his face faded.
“You know, Michael, the only way you’ll ever know how that would work is if you did it.”
“My career would be over.”
“You don’t know that. Hollywood spins things to match their needs all the time. Who says you can’t spin what the world knows . . . or what the world thinks it knows.”
He was thinking about it. That, Meg could see.
When his eyes started to scowl, Meg changed the subject by confessing her evening’s sins. “I kissed Val.”
Michael’s jaw slacked open.
“He kissed me, actually. Then the oxygen level dropped and damn it . . . but yeah, we kissed.”
Michael was smiling, enjoying her unease with her confession. “How was it?”
“Before my lungs seized? Great. I mean, have you looked at the man?”
“Lots of lips, just the right amount of tongue?”
Meg squeezed her eyes shut, started to laugh. “How did you know?”
“Just a guess.”
She blew out a sigh. “I shouldn’t have.”
“Why not? He’s sexy, straight. Perfect for you.”
“I’m here with you.”
“Something tells me you didn’t have an audience.”
“We were alone.”
She still didn’t feel right about it.
“Listen,” Michael said. “Karen and I were married for a year and a half. Neither of us were involved with anyone and no one got hurt. You’re here as a date. Last time I looked that didn’t amount to jack in this day and age.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Kiss him, sleep with him, do whatever you want with the man. I have no claim and wouldn’t say otherwise regardless of what might come of this vacation. Besides, it isn’t like there are a bunch of cameras snapping pictures and asking questions. This place is off the map. I know I’m coming back.”
Some of the tension inside Meg’s chest eased. “With Ryder?”
“Maybe.”
The bell to the front door of the villa rang with a noise that surprised the both of them.
Michael answered while Meg watched.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Wolfe. Miss Rosenthal has mail.”
Mail? On vacation?
Michael took the envelopes from the man and closed the door.
“I thought vacations were no-mail zones.”
Michael glanced at the three envelopes before handing them over.
“One is from your sister.” Judy’s handwriting was as familiar as her own. The return address, however, was illegible.
Meg tore into Judy’s first.
Hey, Livin’ the High Life on Someone Else’s Dime,
Two things since I can’t pick up a freakin’ phone and call like any normal person in this century . . . First, I’ve heard NOTHING about you or Mike since you left. I’m watching every platform, as is the ball and chain and his partner.
Meg knew that meant Rick and Neil. Both had a background in military intelligence and could be trusted with her life.
Second . . . the man you asked me about. I’m not liking the information I’m finding. Or not finding, as the case may be. Not sure why you’re asking about him, but “don’t trust him.” Those are the ball and chain’s words.
Hope you’re having a fantastic time.
Can’t wait to hear all about it . . . or not hear all about it.
Give my bro a kiss for me.
J
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