“She’s pretty rocking,” I say, referring to the singer who just won a Grammy for an absolutely epic breakup album she wrote. Reeve and Sutton are engrossed in each other’s company, so I squeeze past a gray-haired man in a double-breasted suit and snag a spot near the end of the bar so I can people watch.
“I’d love to see your band,” Davis says to Michael in his smooth and friendly voice. “Heard great things about Loose Cattle. Great name, by the way.”
I smile privately as Davis talks to actors in his professional demeanor, and I feel like I have a delicious secret because I know all the other things he says. I know how sexy his voice is when he tells me how to touch myself, I know how it goes low and husky when he’s taking my clothes off, I know how he can be sweet and tender when he’s tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and asking to see me again.
I know how he sounds when he’s not the director.
When he’s not the man in the tux.
When he’s not this incredibly powerful presence in the world of New York City performing arts.
I know how rough and hungry he gets when he’s desperate for me to want him as much as he wants me.
“Absolutely. Next Thursday, I’ll be there,” he says, then he shakes Michael’s hand and turns to me. “Oh, by the way, Michael. Do you know Jill McCormick? She’s the understudy for Alexis in Crash the Moon.”
Michael takes my hand and gives me a quick peck. “Alexis?” He raises an eyebrow. “My condolences,” he teases. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you, and may she give you no trouble at all.”
“Good to meet you as well,” I say, avoiding my least favorite topic—Alexis.
“And on that note, I should go prepare for my song with Ms. Black.”
“A duet with Ms. Black? How lucky can we possibly be?” Davis says to Michael, as if they know something I don’t.
Then Michael says a quick goodbye, and it’s just us at the bar. Well, us and five hundred other people. But he’s the only one I notice.
“I knew you’d look stunning in this dress,” he says casually as he surveys the room, standing side to side by me, so he’s not looking at me. He’s playing by my rules, acting as if we’re two colleagues who happen to be checking out the human scenery at this gala. He speaks as if he’s saying something as mundane as nice weather, but that’s why it’s such a turn-on, because it’s our secret. “And the slit up the side could come in handy.”
I bite my lip, so I don’t start breathing loudly from all these excruciatingly delicious feelings racing through my bloodstream and turning me all the way up. I try to gather myself, to play it as cleverly as he is.
“Yes. You never know when you might have to run,” I fire back, as if the quip can help me regain the equilibrium, but then I’m face to face with him and it’s as if all the air has been sucked out of the room, everything has stopped, and no one is moving, and it’s just us. I want to run my hand across his face, and play with the collar on his shirt, then smooth out the lapel. I want to slide my hand inside the jacket, touch his back. I want to mark him, so everyone knows this man is taken. This man is mine.
For a second I can’t breathe when the realization hits me: I want him to be mine.
“Don’t run on me,” he says in a casual voice, but I know there’s real meaning beneath it.
“I won’t.”
He takes a step closer. “I fucking want you so much,” he whispers in a rough scrape, and heat surges through me, centering between my legs. I’m sure my cheeks are turning that rosy pink that lets him know I feel completely the same, and I’m about to inch closer to feel more of this heat, when I see another blonde approaching him. It takes me a few seconds to place her, but when I do my veins turn to ice, and I’m sure my mouth is hanging open.
She’s so gorgeous, and she’s so poised, with perfect cheekbones, deep brown eyes that could melt any man’s cold heart, and the body of a Victoria’s Secret angel. She stops at Davis and flashes a classy smile.
“What a delight to see you again, Davis.” Then before he can even respond, she leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek. I’d love to peel her off of him, but I’m too shocked to say anything, too embarrassed to even move.
“Madeline,” he says coolly, as if he’s completely unsurprised to see her.
“I just arrived in town two days ago to start rehearsals for the Steve Martin play.”
He nods. I seem to recall her being cast, but I didn’t pay much attention. Then he introduces me, and it’s as if I’m having an out-of-body experience, because everything about this moment is completely surreal. Davis, introducing me to the woman he was once in love with. The actress he fell hard for. The person who singlehandedly broke his heart. I’m split between the desire to throttle her for hurting him, and the bizarre wish to thank her for leaving him so that I could have him now.
Instead, I simply go along with the pleasantries, shaking her hand. It’s a lovely hand, a soft hand, but I still feel as if I’m touching an eel because it’s her hand. She shoots me a gorgeous smile, and it’s almost enough to seem real, but I can tell it’s her red-carpet smile, her professional smile. That’s all. Nothing more. She doesn’t even say Nice to meet you. Her focus is only on Davis, yet she’s not looking at him as a former lover. Instead, she seems all business.
“Have the Pinkertons gotten in touch with you about . . .” She pauses and shifts her eyes to me as if she doesn’t want to say what it’s about, and I get the message. She doesn’t want me around for their work conversation. “Because I think it sounds like a brilliant idea.”
“Yes, they have.”
“Well?”
I’m so agitated right now that I need to make an exit. “Oh, look. I see my friend Reeve. I need to catch up with him about where we’re running tomorrow.”
And I walk away, pushing past other people. A tiny bead of sweat slides down my spine, and I doubt it’s because I’m hot. It’s more because I’m embarrassed. She’s the woman who wrecked him. She’s the reason he didn’t want to date me. She’s here, and she has something private to discuss with him.
I bump into Alexis.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re here?”
“Honestly. Don’t start, Alexis. Now is not the time.”
I continue on, looking for Reeve or Shelby, but I don’t see either of my friends. I figure a bit of fresh air would do me good. I eye the doorway and count down the seconds till I reach it, like I’m finishing a marathon, when Davis’s sister cuts me off. It’s like I’m being cornered everywhere I go.
“Hi. I’m Michelle Milo,” she says and extends a hand. First Madeline. Now Michelle. Women connected to Davis everywhere I turn. It’s like whiplash. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to attend this event.
“Hi, Michelle. I’m Jill. I’m in the show.”
“I know who you are,” she says, and then she rests her palm against my arm and it’s a strange gesture. But she tips her forehead to the stairs, suggesting we go up to the second level. I go along with her.
“Listen, I know how my brother feels about you.”
“What?” I don’t have to act confused, because I am. I’m surprised he’d talk to anyone.
“You have to know he’s the most important person in the world to me. The last thing I want is for him to be hurt again. If you’re not serious about him, if this is some kind of career move, if you’re going to use him, then please, I’m asking you, woman to woman, to leave him now.”
I feel like she just dropped from the sky, like she’s some sort of benevolent superhero, because there’s something kind in her voice. Kind, but determined.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“If you care about my brother at all, please think seriously about what you’re doing,” she implores me. “I don’t want him to go through that again. He doesn’t do anything halfway, Jill. He doesn’t do his job halfway, and he doesn’t do relationships halfway. He’s nothing or he’s all in. So, unless you’re there wit
h him, unless you’re all in, please get out before you hurt him.”
I glance over at Davis, and he’s still with Madeline. We’re too far away for me to guess at what they’re saying, but he’s not trying to get away from her, and he’s not looking for me.
“I don’t want to hurt him. I care about him. But he’s with her right now.”
Michelle narrows her eyes. She looks like she’s about to bum rush Madeline and tackle her from behind.
Then a loud voice fills the room. “What an honor to be here tonight.”
Michelle and I turn to the small stage to see Jane Black with a microphone in hand. “I’m still waiting for my chance to star in a Broadway musical, so any of you big name producers, just call me up. Nah, I’m just kidding. I’m all about the singing, and tonight we have a very special song for tonight’s event. Have you all heard of this musical Once?”
The crowd cheers its answer, and Michelle claps half-heartedly too, as she scans the room for her brother. I don’t see him or Madeline, and my heart goes cold with the possibility that they could be alone together.
“I thought you might have,” Jane continues. “Would anyone want to hear Tony Award-winning Broadway star Michael Cerveris, who originated the role of Tommy, sing a bit of ‘Falling Slowly’ with me?”
The room erupts into a chorus of yeses.
“Well, you should all grab a girl, grab a guy, grab a friend, and dance.”
Then Michael joins Jane on stage. He has a guitar slung around his chest and begins plucking the first notes from the romantic song first made famous in the movie before it became a musical. The notes pierce me, even in the midst of all this strangeness—Michelle’s protective warnings, and Madeline’s appearance out of nowhere—and now two gorgeous voices stamp out all the confusion and I feel the music doing what it does. Touching me, even though I don’t want to be affected by anything right now. As Jane’s gorgeous voice fills the room, Michael’s beautiful baritone layering into hers, I see Davis walking toward me. Purposefully, deliberately, with a sly little grin on his fabulous face. He walks up the steps and finds me with Michelle.
“Michelle, I’m going to need to take Jill away from you right now.”
He turns to me and offers his hand. “Dance with me.” He holds my gaze with his deep blue eyes and says it with such tenderness that I simply nod a yes. He takes my hand, and pulls me away from his sister, and soon my hands are on his shoulders and his are on my waist.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Why do you think? Because of her.”
“It was about work. The Pinkertons are considering doing a movie of World Enough and Time and they approached me about directing, and they’re talking to Madeline about reprising her role.”
“Do you want to do it?”
“I’m not sure. That’s what Madeline was asking me about. She was trying to convince me, but I’m not entirely sure I want to go back to something I’ve already worked on.”
“Was she convincing?” I ask and I can’t hide the jealousy.
“Are you jealous?”
“Yes,” I say, letting my irritation show. I want him to know that I don’t like her being around. He’s mine.
“Why?”
“Why do you think?”
“Say it, Jill.”
I sigh heavily, then manage to get the words out. “Because I don’t want anyone else to have you. Just like how you feel about me.”
He lowers his voice more, his words only for me. “Nobody else has me. Nobody else will. Nobody else can.”
I close my eyes for a moment. There are too many warring emotions in me, battling with each other. “Your sister told me to stay away from you,” I tell him, because I know he loves his sister, but I want to know, too, that he disagrees with her directive.
“Did she?”
I nod as we sway in a small circle.
“Are you going to stay away?”
“It doesn’t seem that way, does it?”
“Don’t stay away,” he says, his strong hand on my waist bringing me closer.
“I should ignore your sister?” I challenge. I don’t like all these women who have their hooks in him in different ways.
“Ignore her.”
“What about Madeline?”
“It’s just work. I don’t feel anything for her anymore. How could I?” he asks with such certainty, such confidence. “Everything I feel is for you.”
A heady feeling swoops through me, and I don’t know what it is. It feels like I’m flying and being cut open at the same time. As if I can feel all the good things and all the awful things at once. I don’t know what’s going on, especially since he moves his hand from my waist to the open V on my back. He doesn’t say anything, and my mouth is too dry to speak. He strokes my back with his finger, sending shivers radiating across my skin.
“You’re touching me,” I say in a low voice, as Jane and Michael sing about falling so deeply you can’t go back. The song might as well have been written for me right now. I can’t go back to who I was, that carefully constructed self. But more than that, I don’t want to return to the Jill I was before. I have to be this new person who doesn’t have a mask or a costume to hide behind. If I want to have the things on the other side, I have to start anew. “Do you think everyone knows?” I ask.
“Knows what?”
“How we feel.”
“How do you feel?”
“I think you know,” I say, and we haven’t once looked away from each other. The connection between us is so intense it’s like nothing else exists but us and this tiny little patch of the Terrace Room where we barely move our feet, and dancing is just a euphemism for being able to touch each other in public, even if it’s only a hand on a shoulder. But that bit of contact with him makes me tipsy.
“I think I’d rather hear it from you.”
“Davis,” I say, but that’s all. I can’t get any more words out.
“This song,” he says, and now there’s a touch of nerves in his voice. But he pushes through them. “This song is for you. I asked them to sing it for you.”
And that’s when I know. I feel it all through my body and my heart and my mind. I feel everything. Like all the pieces of pretend that encased my heart shear off and splinter, leaving me with only the real thing. Because these words, this song about two people falling in love, is all too true, and all too real. There’s nothing fake about it, and nothing happening from afar. It’s happening right here, to me, and I can barely comprehend how I might feel when there are no more walls. But I need him. I need to be close to him. I need to touch him.
“I can’t be on this dance floor with you right now.” I can hardly get air. I’m overcome with all these feelings crashing through my body.
“Are you okay?”
“I need to be alone with you for a minute.”
He places a hand on my lower back and guides me out of the Terrace Room, down the hall and to a nearby bathroom. He opens the door, shuts, and locks it. He looks me over like he wants to kiss me senseless from head to toe. Everything is electric between us as I wait in that sliver of a moment for him.
Then he leans into me, pushes one strap off my shoulder and kisses my bare skin. I am lightheaded and woozy. I want so much more, but even the slightest touch sends me into another world. He rains hot, shivery kisses all along my shoulder and to my neck, blazing a trail up to my ear.
“Are you finally going to put me out of my misery?” I might be begging, but I don’t care. I’m beyond ready for him. The question is—is he ready for me?
His lips brush my earlobe, and I think he’s about to whisper a yes in my ear. Instead, he breaks the contact and pulls back to look at me, his dark eyes seeing me as I truly am. As the woman who wants only him. He finally knows it, and finally believes it. He is as stripped bare as I am right now with this consuming need for each other. I am on edge, holding my breath for an answer.
Tonight.
It’s finally going to happen. The possibility of being with him is terrifying and thrilling at the same time. Then we smash into each other and we kiss in a frenzy, as if we are claiming each other, marking this moment when everything is so completely clear between us. His hands are on my face instantly, and his tongue is searching my lips, my mouth, and I can’t get enough of him. I want to crawl up him, and wrap my legs around him, and slam him into me. Instead, he pushes me against the wall, trapping me with his body, the way I like it.
“I like it when you do that,” I whisper.
“I know.”
He presses against me, and the feel of him is extraordinary. Even while standing, I love the pressure and weight of him. He runs his hands from my neck down to my breasts, then he turns me around and I’m looking at the mirror. He kneels behind me, so I can’t see him. I tremble with anticipation, then I feel his breath along my calf, and he’s kissing his way up my leg, stopping to trace his tongue along the back of my knee in such a delicious way that sparks of heat shoot across my body. Now, he’s bunching up the fabric of my dress at my waist and he kisses my thigh. He reaches my ass, and I cry out because everything he does feels so incredible, especially as he runs the tip of his tongue along one cheek, then flicks it against my lace panties. I bow my back, giving him better access for anything and everything he wants.
“Whatever you’re doing feels amazing,” I say between broken breaths.
“Good. That’s how it should feel.” Then he stands, moves his hands to my hips, and yanks me against him. I start to circle my hips without being aware of it. I want him so badly, and he knows it. He knows what he does to me, and he enjoys it as he hooks his arm between my legs, his fingers touching me through my panties. I shudder, and desire spreads through my whole body, as if every cell is comprised solely of the dark craving to be touched by him.
“Look at yourself,” he says, grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head. I look at my reflection. My face is flushed, and my hair is wild, and my lips have that just-been-kissed look.
The Private Rehearsal (Caught Up In Love: The Swoony New Reboot of the Contemporary Romance Series Book 4) Page 18