Love Me Two Times (Rock Royalty Book 8)

by Christie Ridgway

  “Those kinds of stories abound,” Jewel said. “It’s hard to know which ones are true.”

  “Yeah,” Beck agreed. The overhead lights cast shadows on his face, emphasizing the handsome, masculine lines. “LA. Full of lies and surprises.”

  Guilt twisted her stomach as she thought instantly of her big lie of omission. But what was the right thing to do? Burden him with a knowledge that would come completely out of the blue?

  That’s not why you’re keeping silent, a voice inside her said. You don’t want to give him a chance to judge you as a mother.

  She drew in a slow breath. All right. I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him the truth.

  But before she could formulate her first words, he began speaking again. “We met here another time. Here at The Hideaway.”

  Clutching the railing, she stared at him. Relief felt almost euphoric. “You remember?” The weight on her shoulders lifted even as the beginnings of anxiety fluttered in her belly. The choice was now out of her hands. “Your memory has returned?”

  “No,” he said. “Cilla mentioned it.”

  “Cilla?” she said, puzzled, but then Jewel’s confusion cleared. “That’s right. I…We were sitting at the bar, talking, and she passed by. She stopped to exchange a word or two with you. It was much later that I met her at the Canyon Country Store and we made our connection.”

  “So you and I came here together?”

  Jewel shook her head and stuck to the truth. “No. I was waiting to meet a customer of mine. You said you had a craving for their meatballs on skewers and a cold beer. We just…struck up a conversation.”

  “Two strangers shooting the shit.”

  “Pretty much.”

  He looked at her again and his gaze caught hers. She couldn’t look away. “Did you tell me we’d been neighbors at one time?” he asked. A little smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “That you’d had a crush on me growing up?”

  Warmth crawled up her cheeks. “I was just a little girl. You were much too old for me.”

  “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’” Then his eyes cut away from hers. “Have you had any further trouble at your place? Break-ins? Vandalism?”

  “No. I still don’t understand it. It’s just the three of us there, a woman, a little girl, and a grandmother. There’s nothing anyone would want unless it’s a rubber duckie or a rag doll.”

  His teeth flashed in a quick smile at that. “You make jewelry,” he pointed out.

  “From costume pieces that I dismantle and then re-imagine into new designs. While I like to think that my creativity is appreciated, most of my source materials come from things people discard.”

  “You don’t have any valuable supplies at your house?”

  She shook her head. “When I do work like that, I do it elsewhere—a different building where I have access to a shared set of tools. I’m part of an artist’s co-op, and I lock up the costly stuff there.”

  “Still…I think I should come over to the house and check out your security.”

  “What?”

  “The Velvet Lemons compound might be involved. It draws people. We have trouble with crazy fans scaling the fences all the time.”

  “A crazy fan thought he might find one of the band hiding out in my dilapidated work van?”

  This time the smile stayed longer. “Okay. I guess not. But you should still take me up on my offer to look around.”

  He’d never been inside her grandmother’s house except that single time the day before. During their affair, she’d been renting a small studio apartment about ten miles away with one charming element—a Juliet balcony. The place boasted a closet the size of a splinter and a designer friend from art school had given Jewel rolling garment racks on which she’d hung the majority of her wardrobe, taking up some of the scant living space.

  Beck would lie on her bed and watch her get ready to go out. He’d point at a dress with the long neck of a bottle of beer he’d been sipping from. “Put that one on, sugar. No panties, just the way I like it.”

  Blushing to the roots of her hair, she’d comply. Then they’d go out to dinner or go to the movies, and under the tablecloth or in the darkness of the theater she’d feel his hot, hard hand slink up her bare thigh.

  Her resistance had melted faster than her insides.

  But they hadn’t left the apartment all that often. She’d cooked for him in the tiny kitchen space so she’d not have to share him with anyone else. So she could comply with his wishes—wishes that she’d agreed to with an enthusiasm that made her shake her head now—that she wear as few clothes as possible around him.

  One memorable night was branded on her brain. Sitting across her tiny table, he’d fed her from his plate, choice bits of filet, creamy slices of avocado, a forkful of whipped mashed potatoes. Nearly naked, she’d fidgeted on her chair and picked up her own fork. He’d stayed her hand with his free one, murmuring, “This is the best bite. Let me offer you this one.”

  And because no one had ever…cherished her in such a way, nourished her body and her heart until she’d nearly wept at the sweetness of it, she’d opened her mouth and accepted whatever he’d offered.

  Eagerly. Always so eager.

  It hadn’t been enough to keep him with her, though.

  “I need to get going,” she said now. She’d been truthful, yes? Answered all his questions. It was enough for the moment.

  “Are you going to let me come over?” Beck asked. “I’ll see if you need new locks on the doors. Check the windows.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.” It came out harsher than she’d intended. But it was also the truth. Neither of them had anticipated the unintended consequences of their affair. She’d never blamed him for ending it—from the beginning she’d known he was headed for Africa—nor had she blamed him for what happened after he left the country.

  “I don’t mind—”

  “I can inspect the locks myself,” she said. “Or, if you don’t think I know what I’m doing, I have other people I can ask.”

  “That guy, Gavin, the one who isn’t your husband.”

  “He’s a friend. And he’s not interested in me in that way.”

  Beck made a disbelieving noise.

  “I’m positive.” She opened her purse to dig for her car keys. “He’s been very pre-occupied lately. I’m guessing it’s a woman.”

  “Are you disappointed?”

  Annoyed at the question, she looked up at him. Their gazes met. Her irritation died in the flood of longing that filled her belly. How she wished now that her memory had been lost as well, so she wouldn’t recall the way the trace of his finger along the curve of her cheek or the slope of her shoulder could make her knees weak.

  “Was it like this the night we met at the bar?” he asked, his voice low. “Two strangers who just happened to be sitting beside each other struck up a conversation and…”

  She glanced away, suddenly afraid.

  “Jewel.” The pads of two fingers gently touched her upper arm and turned her toward him. “We looked at each other, and it was…”

  Everything. All. Heat and want and a surge of excitement that had made her head spin.

  Beck took her chin in thumb and fingers, forcing her eyes to his. “Well?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. Truth, she told herself. Tell the truth. “It was just like this.”

  He sucked in a swift breath. “All right.”

  “I…” Jewel tried to think of her next move. “I’ve got to go now. You need to let me go.”

  His hand drifted away from her face. “If that’s what you want.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” she said, feeling defensive and upset. Feeling like she wanted him to be touching her again. “I thought Cilla said it would be a girls’ thing.”

  “Meaning you meant to avoid me.”

  “I suppose.” She fumbled for her keys again, dropped them. They nearly slid off the deck. “God,” she said, embarrassed.

&nbs
p; “Let me,” Beck bent to retrieve them. Then, gripping her wrist in one hand, he pressed the ring against her palm with the other.

  Her fingers closed around the cool metal…and his warm skin.

  He sucked in another quick, audible breath, and then she was yanked against his body. She burrowed into his arms and lifted her mouth, anticipating the kiss. Expecting searing heat, she shivered when his lips merely brushed hers, a soft greeting.

  But her heart still thundered in her ears and she went up on her toes, eager for more. He grazed her mouth once again and then he pressed harder, harder. He crushed her to him, all restraint leaving him as the kiss became open-mouthed. His tongue searched for hers, slid along it in demand, and then their mouths were coupling like their bodies had done so many times in the past.

  Jewel welcomed each dominant thrust and thought she could exist on this alone until his hot lips slid over her chin and on to her neck. She panted, bringing in necessary air.

  The oxygen cleared her head.

  No, no. This wasn’t right.

  “Beck—”

  But he smothered her protest with another devastating kiss. Her objection got lost in the goodness of it, and she moaned as his hand slid from her hip and closed over one of her aching, swelling breasts.

  Then someone burst through the door.

  Beck’s hand instantly dropped and he lifted his head, pressing hers to his shoulder. He turned his back so she was protected from the newcomer’s gaze.

  The man muttered an “Excuse me,” and took the steps two at a time.

  “Damn,” Jewel said, feeling hot and bothered and foolish.

  Beck chuckled, stroking her hair as they both calmed.

  Then she stepped away from him. “That was not supposed to happen.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and regarded her warily. “Okay.”

  “I’m not interested in this,” she said, flapping her hand between the two of them. “I’m too busy for it.” I’m too worried my heart might get broken. Again.

  “Okay,” he said once more.

  His equanimity made her bristle. “I told you that back then, too.”

  Not that he’d listened. Instead he’d worn down her resistance in record time.

  But now was now, and she had reasons to be stronger. “So…goodbye.”

  Turning, she stomped down the steps, keen to put distance between them.

  “Jewel,” Beck called.

  “What?” When he didn’t answer, she turned around. “What?”

  “I get the feeling that some man did you wrong,” he said. “Very wrong.”

  Instead of answering, she turned and continued marching toward her car.

  But Beck’s voice followed her into the night. “I’m hoping like hell it wasn’t me.”

  Chapter 4

  When Beck began talking to the alligator lizards sunning themselves on rocks as he hiked the canyon in the mornings, he decided he needed to seek human companionship. Though for years his work took him to lonely places on the planet and he’d always been content enough in his own company, now the long silences at the compound were getting to him…and the old memories that rattled around like ghosts.

  Hitting the road again couldn’t come soon enough for him.

  But a promise was a promise, and he’d given one to Cilla. There’d be no disappointing that sweet little Rock Royalty princess. He’d witness her pledge to her fiancé and Ren’s pledge to her.

  With that in mind, he drove to the new house the couple had recently bought. Ren had been living in London and Cilla in a bungalow in Santa Monica when they’d met again, all grown up, so now they needed bigger digs suited for the two of them. Beck found himself at an address in Pacific Palisades, a coastal neighborhood in LA’s Westside.

  Ren and Cilla had purchased a pretty villa-styled place with both mountain and ocean views.

  Ren opened the front door and welcomed him inside. “I could use a hand in the fitness room,” he said. “Glad you called.”

  Beck’s head turned this way and that as he followed the other man. The houses where they’d lived at the compound each had their own kind of opulence, but most of the time it had been camouflaged beneath a film of ash, bottles of booze, and bowls of drugs. This house was elegant in a clean, bright way, with sunshine and fresh air streaming through windows.

  Not a place for debauched parties and dark nights. The squeal of brakes and women’s screams. What the fuck, you stupid little shit? How did you let this happen? How could you have been so damn careless?

  He cleared his throat, hoping to clear away the old voice, too. “Looks like you’re following in Reed’s path. Suburbia writ large.”

  The doorbell rang, and he and Ren traded looks, then headed back to the entry. Beck positioned himself behind his friend as Ren pulled open the door. On the other side stood a pretty Asian woman in yoga gear, a stroller with two toddlers strapped in at her side. She held a plate of cling-wrapped cookies.

  “Uh, hi,” she said, looking at Ren with some alarm. “I’m Cheryl Chen from next door. I met your fiancée yesterday. She seems so sweet.”

  “She is sweet,” Ren said.

  As opposed to Ren’s badass self, Beck thought. The guy was dressed in frayed jeans, a black T-shirt promoting some heavy metal band concert, and scarred motorcycle boots with chains around the shafts. The woman probably thought a violent offender had moved into the neighborhood.

  Beck stepped around. Smiled. He’d had his hair cut recently, unlike his buddy who seemed to be letting his inky stuff go long for the wedding.

  “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said, and pretended to glance at the kids. “And, uh, your little ones too. I’m Beck Hopkins, a good friend of Cilla and Ren’s.”

  Ren raised his hand and flashed his smile as well. “That’s me. Ren Colson.”

  The neighbor lady seemed to relax a little at that glimpse of the pearly whites. “Cookies? I baked them myself.”

  “That’s so thoughtful. Thank you.” The wattage of Ren’s grin seemed to melt the last of the neighbor’s apprehension. “I’ll tell Cilla you stopped by.”

  “Please do,” she said, nearly chirping. “And welcome to the neighborhood!”

  Beck and Ren watched her handily spin the stroller around and stride down the driveway. They each had a cookie in hand before the door swung shut.

  “What did I tell you?” Beck said. “A Welcome Wagon, man. That’s suburbia writ large.”

  Ren shrugged. “I like her already. Cookies.” He set them down on a nearby table.

  “And I liked how it was I who soothed her nerves,” Beck said, not resisting the urge to poke at the other man. “I could get used to people considering me the less depraved of the pair of us.”

  Turning, Ren quirked a brow.

  “C’mon. Growing up, I was the first in the hot tub with the topless models.”

  Ren snorted. “By like five minutes. Same with all the other shit we tried and got away with. You went first because you were the oldest.”

  “Quite the role model for the rest, huh?” Beck heard the bitter note in his own voice.

  They were moving up the stairs, and now Ren stopped on the top landing to stare at him. “Being our role model wasn’t your job. Tell me you’re not shouldering that burden.”

  Instead of answering, Beck lifted his arms to indicate all the space. “How big is this house, five, six bedrooms? What are you going to do with so much square footage?”

  “Fill it with some kids. A couple of dogs. I don’t know, cats too, probably. Cilla wants it all.”

  She’d pretty much said so to Beck, but still he couldn’t wrap his head around it. “You really up for that?”

  Ren continued on, turning in to a large room with an attached bath. It had mats on the floor, a weight machine, a treadmill, and an exercise bike. There was a TV mounted on one wall, and the wide windows gave a view of the mountains. “Whatever Cilla wants.”

  “But kids?” At the thought of the
long driveway and the pool he’d glimpsed below, his belly clutched. “That’s a lot of responsibility. You gotta keep them safe.”

  “We will.” Ren gave him an odd look, then leaned down to grasp one end of a weight bench. “Get on the other side, will you? I want to move it beneath the windows.”

  Beck followed orders, first helping shift the bench over and then a tall rack of free weights. Afterward, he stood looking out the glass, tracing the driveway with his gaze to the wide street at the bottom of it. From the back corner of his mind came that blood-freezing squeal of brakes. “I’d be scared as shit to have a kid.”

  “Yeah, I can understand. But Cilla…she retained all her optimism, Beck, despite the childhoods we had. Maybe not all her innocence—I’m sure I’ve managed to tatter that around the edges a bit myself,” he said with a grin. “But that optimism makes me believe in all kinds of things.” He cleared his throat. “It makes me damn determined to see her happy.”

  Beck clapped his friend on the back. “Then I wish you every success.”

  Ren looked over at him. “You know we can’t let the Lemons find out the date of the wedding.”

  “Cilla said. They made asses of themselves at Gwen’s memorial?”

  “From what I’ve been told. I didn’t make it back in time.”

  Beck sighed. “It was hard to hear she was gone.”

  Crossing to a set of cabinets against one wall, Ren drew out two waters from a small, built-in refrigerator and tossed one to him.

  “Gwen left me a few items,” the other man said, twisting off the top of his bottle. “Photos. And something else.”

  Plastic snapped as Beck rotated the cap on his. “Her Tarot cards? Her numerology cheat sheet?” She’d been a gentle throwback to patchouli-scented times.

  “It was a note that said, ‘It’s time to bring everybody home.’” Ren took a long swallow from his bottle. “You’re the last to return.”

  “I was the first to leave too.”

  Ren narrowed his eyes. “But you don’t have to stay away. We’ve been making peace with the past, and it’s good, Beck. Making healthy connections within the Nine that make us better people. As corny as it sounds, we lift one another up.”