Finding Her Rhythm (Backstage Pass Series)

by Wade, Dani

  “Lemonheads! Those are my favorite!”

  Even with Alzheimer’s, some things never changed. The lemon hard candies had been Granny’s drug of choice ever since Taylor was a child, and Granny had rarely been without them until she got sick. Taylor had brought extra boxes to leave with the nurses, so maybe Granny could have some each day.

  Although if they left the box, she’d eat them all, one right after the other, often forgetting she’d just had a whole box less than an hour ago. It was better to ration them.

  They sat together for a while, mostly in silence. Sometimes Granny talked—a couple of times about her mother, then a memory about her brother, both of whom were long dead. Granny thought they’d just gone into town for the day, leaving her behind because she wasn’t well. Then after lunch they watched some television. Granny loved the old black-and-white TV shows, especially Gunsmoke.

  Restless, Taylor let her eyes wander over to the photographs, seeing herself grow up progressively in each picture. But it was the print of her parents’ wedding day that finally opened the well of loneliness that only grew deeper since that midnight kiss. Her parents had been so in love, focused on building a strong family even though they’d only been able to give birth to Taylor.

  Was she destined to always stand on the outside, alone no matter how many people were in the room?

  Her heart urged her to take a chance, and being around Michael every day made her ache for him. The lead guitarist for Solar Uprising wasn’t just a hot, sexy musician; he was a good dad and a real man, struggling to do right by his family. That was even sexier than his taut muscles and gorgeous ink work.

  But her head insisted she be logical. What if taking a chance meant she endangered someone other than herself? Not to mention having to admit out loud that a man she’d chosen to sexually experiment with had turned into her worst nightmare.

  That wouldn’t make her look like an idiot…at all.

  As Granny’s eyelids drifted closed about midafternoon, Taylor gathered up her purse to go. Bending low, she kissed a papery-thin cheek and blinked away tears. “Night, Granny,” she whispered, then headed out to the nurses’ station.

  With a quick stop to remind them to let her know if her grandmother’s virus got worse and to drop off the candy stash, she headed back out into the muggy Georgia heat.

  As she drove away, she couldn’t help but think she and her granny were each in a different kind of purgatory.

  Only Granny might someday have a chance of escaping from hers.

  Chapter Seven

  Later that night, Taylor found herself sneaking into the house like a criminal—even though she’d been waved through the security gate without incident.

  Maybe it was the lateness of the hour, maybe it was Michael’s attitude when she’d left that morning, maybe it was the oppressive sadness of seeing her granny but having nothing to say… It all came crashing down on her as she stepped into the darkness of a house shut down for the night.

  The kids were probably still awake but holed up in their rooms with video games and phones. Matthew was more of a sleeper than his sister, usually nodding off around ten thirty even though it was summertime. They both slept in on summer mornings like typical teens—that much at least they could match their dad for. But they were always up and dressed in time for lunch. In terms of Michael’s bedtime—it was anyone’s guess.

  Tonight no one waited up. No one greeted her. The loneliness sunk its claws deep, bringing tears close to the surface.

  Shadows crowded in every corner, the only illumination the soft glow of the tiny night-lights plugged in along the hallways. Michael could be anywhere. Snuggled up in bed (no, she shouldn’t think about that after her last time in his bedroom), the pool (would he swim naked in the middle of the night), or even the darkened family room. That seemed to be his favorite hangout when he didn’t sleep.

  She tiptoed across the balcony, even though the only light was from the full moon outside. She stiffened so the shopping bags she held wouldn’t bump against anything and make noise.

  Which was stupid, except she couldn’t stop herself.

  No music tonight, which created an eerie kind of silence, even though it shouldn’t have. It’s just quiet, that’s all.

  Then out of the darkness, a voice spoke. “Have fun?”

  Now her arm did jerk, and she lost her grip, bags falling around her feet. “Michael, you scared the shit out of me!”

  She stepped to the edge of the stairs. The faint outline of his silhouette was visible to the right of one of the windows, as if he was looking out without wanting to be seen.

  “What are you doing in here in the dark?” she asked.

  “What are you doing sneaking in so late?”

  “I’m not sneaking,” she insisted even though her earlier thoughts made her words a lie. “Why do you care?”

  His long stride brought him too close for comfort. Her stomach tightened but she refused to step back. Even on the steps his height dwarfed hers, something he used to his full advantage.

  “I’m the one with the right to demand answers. I have my own reputation, my children to protect. And you—you have nothing but secrets.”

  His words sliced through to the heart of her. If he only knew how true they were. This day had proven how barren her life was, and all that she could carry with her were memories and fears. With no one to help shoulder the burden.

  “I went to see my grandmother.”

  Her words hung in the air. Michael blinked in the dim light as if he couldn’t quite comprehend the change. His body stilled for a moment before he released the tension with a breath.

  “Did you have a good visit?”

  “No.” Taylor shifted on her feet, almost as uncomfortable with this new topic as the previous one. But he’d said he wanted to know. This was the safest part of her to know, so she whispered, “She didn’t even realize I was there.”

  The silence deepened until Taylor thought he must not have caught her words, but then he spoke, his tone soft. “Sick?”

  “Alzheimer’s.” Her pulse thudded a slow rhythm in her throat. “How can your only family not even know you anymore?” Her arms wrapped around her waist for a moment, her only source of comfort when he was too far away. “But I know her.” That’s enough. It had to be.

  Emotions pushed at her from all sides: desire, guilt, loneliness, fear… If she didn’t lock them away, she just might explode.

  The bags lying neglected near her feet provided the perfect escape. She grabbed the handles and swung them into the air. “Then I did a little shopping.”

  His long reach allowed him to snag a taletale pink bag in midair. How did he manage to spot the one lingerie purchase tucked in the midst of several innocuous totes?

  “I see,” he said, holding up the bag to study it as if he could determine the feminine secrets hiding within. “If I look inside, will I be surprised at what I see?”

  She’d wanted to take this conversation in a light direction, but the words popped out before she could blink. “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  She could barely force out a whisper. “On how you see me.”

  Without her permission, a single tear welled over her lashes and skittered down her cheek. But she didn’t lift a hand to brush it away because that would be admitting the weakness.

  “I want to see you how you really are, Taylor. Don’t you know that?” She heard his long, slow intake of breath. “But you don’t give me much to work with. Why won’t you let me in? Not your body. Not your thoughts. It’s like you’re one big ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign.”

  “I want to. I need to, but I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?” he demanded.

  Of losing someone else…of opening up and being judged. “Of pain. Of betrayal—“

  “Don’t you think I know a thing or two about that?” he asked.

  “No, Michael, I don’t. You’re not exactly free with the information yourself. You might keep me a
t a distance by assuming I scour the tabloids for your life history, but that simply isn’t true.”

  Her eyes closed, even in the darkness. Maybe she could stop the tears from falling. But a stubborn one leaked out regardless of her wishes.

  “So you want my secrets first?” He closed in, his presence as dark and heavy as a gothic hero. “My wife died of AIDS.”

  The bombshell fell so matter-of-factly into the air between them that Taylor almost didn’t recognize it. She couldn’t speak. Only a murmur of concern slipped out.

  “Don’t worry,” Michael said as if he could read her mind. “She didn’t get it from me. We were long past the point of being intimate with each other. If we ever really were.” He dropped the bag to the steps. One expressive hand rubbed back and forth through his close-cropped hair. “She wanted Michael Korvello, the rock star she met on the road—the bringer of good times, crazy nights, and hot bodies. She wanted to party every night, not build a family at home.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “A soft place to land.”

  “I’m sorry, Michael.” His empty tone made her ache for what he’d been through.

  “I’m not. In spite of it all, Claudie gave me McKayla and Matthew. For that, I took care of her to the end.”

  In that moment she realized the kind of man Michael was. He would have been righteously angry over his wife’s stupidity, a stupidity killed her. Uncaring whether her choices would take her away from her children. But he hadn’t let that anger dictate his actions. “That was good of you.”

  One fist pounded into the railing of the stairs. “I didn’t do it to be nice. I didn’t do it because I had to or I owed her anything. I did it because I didn’t want my children to know their mother was a whore.”

  This time he met her fully, crowding in until the space between them became nonexistent. Close enough for her to smell the musky scent of him. “I did it so the world wouldn’t know what she put us through.” Close enough for his heat to sink under her skin. “So I do know, Taylor. I know what it’s like to have secrets. My own secrets have kept me from writing since Claudie died. Just give me a chance.”

  She wanted to believe. So much. “I’m afraid.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was stupid,” she sobbed. “I trusted the wrong person, and ended up hurting what’s left of my family.” Granny. Stephen.

  “What about you?”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “Doesn’t it?” He advanced as she retreated until her back met the wall. Only then did he touch her, his palm resting heavy against the crook of her neck. His thumb pressing lightly against her quickening pulse. “Doesn’t your hurt matter just as much, Taylor?”

  She shouldn’t speak, should keep the words inside. Still she felt her mouth move as if his touch compelled her. “If you wanted to know where I was going, Michael, all you had to do was ask.” She could have told him a lot. Just not…everything.

  He leaned farther into her, imprinting his body onto hers. His heat was a living thing as he pressed close against her. Through his T-shirt and lounge pants it reached out to her, along with the magnificent erection now pressing against her stomach. “I want to know where you’re going, what you’re doing, who you’re talking to. I want to know a lot more than you are willing to give.”

  He was right. She wasn’t ready to tell him everything. It was too humiliating. Too raw. She wanted to forget it all and revel in the nerves Michael set alight in the pit of her stomach.

  “Who was he, Taylor? This man who made you afraid?”

  “I didn’t say it was a man.”

  “You didn’t have to. I can see it every time you stiffen up, even when your eyes show how much you want me. I can hear it every time your mouth says no, even though your eyes tell me yes.”

  Oh God. When would the hell stop so she could experience a little taste of heaven?

  The tension pulled between them like the string of a bow, so taut it could break at any minute. What if one of them got hurt? Michael. McKayla. Matthew.

  He leaned down, descending inch by slow inch. An approach she wanted to welcome but didn’t know how. At the last minute she jerked back, letting her raw emotions lead her rather than her desires.

  She didn’t dare tilt her face up lest she melt into him without thought to the consequences. Still she found herself whispering, “Some nights, I just wish I could forget it all.”

  “Is that what you really need?” he asked.

  “I need…” She swallowed, squeezing her eyes closed. She wasn’t really sure what she needed. “I don’t know.”

  That dark side of him, tempting her to surrender to his control, to his demands, called like a siren song luring her back to the depths of pain she’d barely escaped from the last time.

  She couldn’t trust that song again.

  As if he could read her mind through the tension invading her body, he spoke against her ear. “I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want to, Taylor.”

  Then his heat was gone. He walked past her to the hallway but looked back over his shoulder. “Know that the choice is yours.”

  Then he disappeared from view, leaving her with the cold reality of her solitary existence.

  * * *

  “So, is this the test? Or just an attempt to send Taylor screaming in terror?”

  Michael turned a baleful look on his brother, who innocently picked up a stalk of celery and dipped it in cheese dip before lifting it to his smiling lips.

  Reprimanding Daniel would get him nowhere.

  Nor would it shut Daniel up. “I mean, you haven’t done of these little get-togethers since Claudia got bored with this crowd and moved on to other fish,” Daniel continued. “And second, can’t you tell what a good girl Taylor is?” His use of air quotes didn’t help Michael’s mood. “I’m surprised she didn’t hightail it to her room after one look at Scooter’s piercings.”

  His shaggy blond hair vibrated with his shudder. “And that Roxie chick Nathaniel brought with him? Bim-bo.” His sotto voice was the last straw.

  “Shut the hell up.”

  Michael didn’t want to admit that he was testing Taylor. He’d started this whole thing in a moment of weakness, before he’d realized what a bad idea it was. He could see that Taylor was definitely the “girl next door” type, even if she had a little more spunk. And a lot more mystery.

  Daniel always had been able to ferret out the things Michael would rather keep hidden. “So I set it up to see how she’d react,” he admitted, brushing it off. “If she can’t handle it…” Maybe she can’t handle me.

  Having wandered around the serving island laden with party food, Michael now faced him from across the bar. Daniel flashed his famous lascivious leer. “Ooh, Michael’s gonna get some,” he teased before digging into a piece of chicken.

  “Shut. It,” Michael snapped, looking around for the supersonic ears of his children. Then he mumbled, “I sure as hell hope so.”

  Daniel laughed, then reached across for a fist bump. But Michael didn’t find any of this funny. He couldn’t purge the need sitting hot in his gut. Which meant he was probably making a helluva mistake.

  “I’ve left the choice up to her.”

  Daniel froze. “Whoa. Nothing like applying pressure, brother. Do you think that was wise?”

  “No. Yes.” He scrubbed his hand over his hair. “Hell if I know.”

  If whatever this was between him and Taylor didn’t work out, if she decided she truly didn’t want him, he could be looking for another nanny at the very least. A way to stay out of jail for sexual harassment, at the most. Letting her decide when to come to him was supposed to eliminate the pressure.

  But remembering the heat every time their bodies touched made waiting hella hard.

  And didn’t make the doubts disappear. So he’d jumped on the juvenile wagon and invited his rowdy friends over to make sure she wouldn’t—what?

  “You think she’ll hit on them? Turn into an airhead? Ask Scooter to
score her some drugs?” Daniel asked. “Right in front of you and the munchkins?”

  “Didn’t stop Claudie.”

  Daniel slapped his shoulder. “Man, I get it. We all have our demons.”

  Michael knew Daniel had his own. Different ones, that he handled in a different way, but they hurt him just the same. He absently picked up a chocolate chip cookie Taylor and the kids had baked especially for today. It didn’t help that being famous almost gave them permission to act out in their efforts to exorcise them.

  “But trust me,” Daniel continued. “This woman is true.” He leaned close to Michael’s ear as Matthew wandered in for a cookie, then back out the door. “She makes cookies, for goodness sakes. Loosen up and go with your gut.”

  Staring across the now empty room, Michael groaned. “My gut is screaming Take Her Now. Maybe I should be a little more discreet?”

  Like a bad porno, Roxie sashayed back into the room, showing off her teeny tiny thong and barely covered, enhanced tits. Suddenly Daniel’s celery stick became an obscene accoutrement. “Discreet isn’t really the name of the game around here, bro.”

  Michael choked on his cookie.

  Chapter Eight

  Taylor took a deep breath and closed her eyes against the spectacle before her—but only for a moment, because Lord only knew what might happen while she wasn’t looking.

  The pool atrium had been turned into party central with American flags and red, white, and blue decorations. Pounding music blared from jumbo speakers, but at least it spread enough in the cavernous space that one could still hear another speak. Not that a lot of people were talking to Taylor. She mostly listened to the kids holler at each other in the pool, and the overused, high-pitched squeal of a woman erroneously named Roxie.

  The thirty or so other people in the pool or draped over poolside loungers consisted not just of band members but also roadies and various staff. A couple of them had seminormal families and had brought their teens, much to Matthew and McKayla’s enjoyment.