Unlike Julie, this evening’s tour hadn’t taken him by surprise. When funds had become tight two months ago, and Damon couldn’t make rent, it had been Elvis who offered to hook him up with an acting gig. Damon might have prostituted himself with the shock jock performances, but there was no way in hell he’d get his rocks off while others watched on the internet. He’d go without food before he’d stoop that low. And that’s what it had come to. Now the radio show was paying him bonuses, and the extra appearances it brought netted him a nice living. It just wasn’t what he wanted to do. Damon had had other plans when he’d arrived in Maine.
Despite what Julie had just witnessed, he knew the woman bouncing up the stairs in front of him wasn’t thinking about her sex life. He needed to get his head out of Julie’s pants and wrapped around the conundrum of Jason’s death. Damon was beginning to think Julie’s worries about her friend’s death weren’t as unfounded as they’d first appeared. It seemed Jason had tangled himself in an interesting spider’s web of deceit.
“I’m not sure it’ll help seeing one of the rooms we rent to our more passionate patrons, but knowing all of this business can’t hurt.” Elvis stopped halfway down the hotel-like hall and slid the card key into the door lock.
The room they entered looked like something out of a honeymoon brochure. The oversized bed, covered in plush black velvet, was large enough to sleep four people. Mirrors on the walls and ceiling reflected the red lights, settling on them like a sultry summer night. Sheer fabrics in rainbow shades looped from the ceiling and down the walls, adding to the romantic fantasy.
“We even have cable for erotic channels and video cameras available.” Elvis pointed to the flat screen TV mounted on the near wall. “Of course, our patrons have no idea the feed for the pornography comes from one floor down.” He turned abruptly and stared down at Julie. “And before you even ask, Miss Tilling, the only taping that goes on these rooms are the movies the patrons make themselves.”
Tension eased out of Julie’s shoulders, and a smile flitted across her lips.
Elvis walked over to the wall and opened a door that revealed an opulent bathroom. “Every room comes with a Jacuzzi bathtub. Optional amenities are available for an additional fee.”
Damon didn’t even want to speculate on what other services Elvis provided.
A cell phone chimed. Julie’s autopilot sent her searching, only to come up empty. He forced himself not to dodge the daggers flying from her eyes when they locked on his. It had been selfish when he insisted she leave the phone. He understood how important Julie’s family was to her. But no man would blame him for wanting this sexy woman all to himself. He had hoped to end their evening alone.
Elvis answered the device and spoke briefly before snapping his phone shut. “Sorry, I’m needed upstairs. Seems some patrons are asking to speak with the owner.” Elvis pressed his cheek next to Julie’s and kissed the air. “I miss Jase terribly. But maybe we’re both looking for something that isn’t there.” He shook hands with Damon. “Forgive me, friend. I should never have doubted your intentions. Sometimes love and sadness warp the images right in front of us. I should’ve known you’d never betray me. Not with Jase or anyone.”
Damon pulled Elvis into a fierce hug before the man left them alone. Sometimes family had nothing to do with blood relations.
“Well, we should be going.” Julie wiped her palms down the leather molded to her endless thighs.
“I think Elvis intended for us to enjoy the privacy.” Damon held up the keycard Elvis had slipped into his hand.
“Damon, really, it’s late and—”
Damon stood over her, the heat of his lips branding hers. Her eyes fluttered open when he pulled away. “And you’re going to turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight?” He pressed his body into the supple curves of her. “That happened over an hour ago, Julie. What I see in front of me is no garden flower.” He dipped his fingers into the silken strands of the wig and grazed her parted lips with his thumb. “I see a beautiful woman who invaded my body and thoughts less than twenty-four hours ago, and now every breath I take is filled with her scent.” Damon sighed against her ear before pulling her lobe through his teeth.
“Everything I touch is sandpaper compared to the velvet heat of her skin against my fingers.” He trailed his hand down her limp arm, linking his fingers in hers. “Everything has lost its taste.” He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue along its satin heat before releasing it. “Except the sweet nectar of her kisses.”
“Well, I suppose investigations can wait. Who am I to deny a man so desperate for my attention?” She pressed her hand against his bulging zipper and he bit back a groan of pleasure as what was left of his blood supply pooled in her fingers.
“My, my, Damon, you are ready.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” He scooped her into his arms and deposited her on the bed, but she rolled away from him as he tried to cover her body with his.
“Not so fast, cowboy.” Julie grabbed the fur handcuffs hanging from the headboard and twirled them in the air. “It’s my turn to take the lead.”
Damon laughed and held his hands up. “I’ll go willingly. Please, just promise you’ll hurt me.”
Many hours later Damon found himself dozing contentedly as Julie lay comfortably heavy across his chest. Her heart hammered against his ribs and her heavy breaths heated his skin. The strains of a piano concerto filtered through the hidden speakers, adding to the peace settling in his heart.
He didn’t want this weekend to end.
He’d been with countless women. All of them had sated his sexual needs and brought him hours of enjoyment. But the beauty coiled around him had reached in and touched his soul. He didn’t believe in love at first sight. Hell, he didn’t believe in love at all. Giving your heart to someone only brought emptiness and pain. He’d promised himself a long time ago to keep things between him and the opposite sex easy and free.
Free of strings.
Free of personal baggage.
Free of commitment.
Damon suspected Julie had never experienced a weekend like this. According to her, hooking up with a total stranger and allowing pleasure to dictate her moves certainly wasn’t something stalwart CPA, Julie Tilling ever did.
But damn how he enjoyed her spontaneity. Damon loved watching her eyes cloud with the unexpected sensations he offered as he opened her world to new joys of sexual gratification. She was a woman of mystery, alluring and sensual in her naïve innocence. And she had no idea how intoxicating he found the combination.
He’d just wanted to be with her, not knowing what other baggage she carried. But then he’d met her family, and they had opened their arms to him without knowing who he was. Not caring where he came from—only that their daughter/sister called him friend. He’d never had that kind of blind acceptance in his life.
“A dollar.”
Damon laughed. “What?”
Resting her chin on his chest, Julie’s eyes probed his. “A dollar for your thoughts. Inflation.” Her finger traced the lines on his face. “From this stern expression, I’m thinking that whatever has taken you away from this room is worth more than a penny.”
That’s what he loved about her. Scratch that. That’s what he liked about being with this person. Julie saw things others didn’t bother to notice.
“You ever wonder if it’s all worth it?” he asked. “I mean, you ever wonder if you’re even in the right place for this time in your life or was there somewhere along the way you chose wrong? And now you’ve screwed up your life so badly that the map you thought you were following isn’t even in the same time zone?”
She came up on her elbow and looked down at him, her hand drawing lazy circles on his chest. “All the time.” Her eyes wouldn’t meet his. “I wonder if I’m living my life for other people, or do I really want what I have right now.”
“I sure don’t.” He absently slid his palm along the curve of her ass.
“You’re kidding.”
“I didn’t come to Maine to work as a shock jock. But given the choice of eating or being happy… I choose food every time!”
She laughed. “So, besides food, what makes you happy?”
He rolled her on top of him. “This.”
“Stop.” Julie kissed him before stacking her fists and setting her chin on them, all humor gone from her expression. “Really, Damon. True. Flat out. Giddy with joy, happy.”
“Playing the piano. Hands down.” When she didn’t laugh, he continued. “I’ve always wanted to be a concert pianist. But it wasn’t in the cards.” He put his arm beneath his head so he could better read her reaction. But her eyes had a faraway look, staring at something he couldn’t see. “And you?”
“I’ve always wanted to run a corporation. Manage a bunch of people. I love people. Big huge crowds of them.”
“What are you doing in Delmont? Not too many big accounting firms there.”
“Taking care of my family. Family comes before anything in life.” She said it so matter-of-factly he didn’t know what to do with the information. He had no family.
“Sometimes we need to take care of ourselves first.” He nuzzled his lips into the tender spot behind her ear. She melted against him just as he’d hoped and his cock sprang to life. He didn’t really want to get into conversations of family and commitments and such. He’d become very good at avoiding the past.
Her mouth fused with his, warm and pliant. Obviously they’d had enough serious conversation.
Let the fun and games continue.
* * * *
The wind raced past Julie. The trees whipped by almost as fast as the thoughts whirling in her head. Damon pushed the motorcycle through the waning night as if he were fleeing from something. Two nights ago, she knew nothing of the world of pornography. Tonight she’d acted out her wildest fantasies with a man she barely knew, as if she too were part of that world.
What had happened to the predictable Julie? Had she known she’d slough off that woman with the conservative clothes she’d pushed to the back of her closet? Had her psyche been yearning for this transformation? Julie snuggled against Damon. Did she really want to give up that person if it meant giving up the man who had opened her eyes to a new world of sexuality? Perhaps this whole thing was deviant and unhealthy. But the pleasant soreness between her thighs told her otherwise.
Was this how Jason had started? Experimenting in clubs with other men? Finding their bodies satisfied his sexual needs better than a woman? And what of Deirdre? Julie had never been brave enough to question her own sister about her sexual orientation. But perhaps none of that was her business. Not Jason’s personal life and definitely not her sister’s.
There were too many questions without answers.
They pulled into her drive as the sun peeked over the horizon. Julie had a hard time maneuvering off the bike. Her thighs shook with the effort, and the lack of sleep made her dizzy.
“Well.” She removed the helmet and handed it back to Damon. Shyness crept up her chest and settled on her heated cheeks. The man before her had kissed every inch of her tingling skin. He’d taught her things about her body she’d never been brave enough to discover on her own. And as she stood before him in the shadow of her parents’ house, everything they had done cloaked in the secrets of night, seemed shameful and wrong in the brightening light of this day.
“How about some breakfast?” Damon asked cheerfully.
“I think—”
“Julie. Oh, my God, there you are.” Meghan ran over from her parents’ home. “We’ve been calling your cell all night. Where’ve you been?”
Meghan appeared as frazzled as Julie felt. Her sister’s usual manicured look had been substituted with a fresh out-of-bed rumple that Julie hadn’t seen since they’d shared a bedroom. If the eyes were the window to the soul, Meghan’s puffy and bruised expression spoke of a woman on the brink of disaster.
“Meg, honey, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t know where you’ve been. But we needed you.” Anger rode on the words ground out through Meghan’s clenched teeth. “It’s Daddy. He had a heart attack last night, and we couldn’t find you.”
Julie’s knees let go. She grabbed for Meghan, but her sister yanked away. If Damon hadn’t caught her from behind she would have fallen.
“He was in ICU when I left two hours ago.” Fresh tears streamed down Meghan’s cheeks. “If anything happened while I was here waiting for you…” Meghan’s finger cut through the air. “I’m not sure I can ever forgive you.” Her sister turned on her heel and stomped away. “Peter and I are headed back to the hospital now if you want a ride.”
“Julie, I’ll take—”
“No, Damon.” She didn’t want his help. There was nothing he could say or do that could ease the guilt tightening around her chest. “I have responsibilities.” Pain sliced through her. The one time she’d let someone talk her out of being responsible, the bottom fell out of her world. “I can’t blame you for me letting my guard down. But it was foolish and I knew better.” Misery, confusion and anger pushed her from his arms and sent her stumbling toward her parents’ home. “I knew better than to leave without my phone…”
She didn’t finish. Didn’t want to put the responsibility on Damon. But he’d made her believe she could go through her days without putting other people first. He didn’t understand how much her family depended on her, but she couldn’t blame him.
Tears welled in her eyes. “There’s no room for you in my reality, Damon. Just go home. Playtime is over.”
Chapter 8
“Julie, Chelsea’s taking care of the customers out front,” Meghan called from the flower shop workroom. “I’ve got to go into Bangor to get some extra ribbon for the pew markers for the Fowler wedding.” Her sister poked her head into the back office, but didn’t meet Julie’s wounded stare.
It had been like this all week.
“And if you’re not too busy,” she continued, “it’s your turn to cook dinner for Mum and Daddy. Of course, if you have some secret date I can go again tonight.”
Julie looked up from the stack of papers strewn across her desk. She hated Thursdays. Actually, she hated every day since returning to Delmont, but Thursdays just sucked more. There was the whole payroll to do and the statements to prepare for Meghan’s weddings this weekend and estimates from Deirdre she still needed to file. The pile of papers never seemed to diminish no matter how hard she worked.
And now she had her sister’s crappy attitude tipping her past the breaking point.
“That’s it.” The pencil in Julie’s hand snapped with her patience. “I’ve been playing the contrite sister since last weekend while you’re acting like a spoiled brat.”
“Me?” Meghan laid a limp hand over her heart. “I’m not the one who went AWOL just to screw around with a total stranger. It’s obvious where your priorities lie.”
“Oh, like I knew Daddy was going to have a heart attack. Yeah, that’s me, always running from responsibilities.” The hurt tumbled over anger, rolling into an emotional snowball that plunged headlong without regret into Meghan’s feelings.
“Why do I always have to be the one to shoulder everyone’s problems?” Tears burned Julie’s eyes. “Julie, can you water my plants while I’m on vacation? Julie, should I have fish or steak for dinner? Julie, come home and pull my business out of financial ruin. Julie, talk to Doc McCarty about Daddy’s test results. Julie, feed me, clothe me, love me. Well, Meghan, when the hell do I get to lean on anyone?”
“That’s not fair!”
“You’re right, it’s not fair! It’s not fair that I live everyone else’s life, but can’t have one of my own. And when I finally do…I get punished for it!” Julie pushed away from the mess. “Frankly, Meghan, I’m sick of it. Sick of putting my needs on hold. Sick of trying to live up to everyone else’s expectations. Sick of,” she swiped the papers off her desk, “sick of all this crap.�
�� She shoved past Meghan, but turned and stared down at eyes filled with tears and loathing. “And don’t worry about tonight, little sister. I realize it’s my turn to cook dinner. I’ll be the ever-vigilant daughter and hold back the tide. Like always.”
* * * *
Damon stared down at the cell phone in his hand, willing it to ring.
Julie still hadn’t called. And she hadn’t answered her phone either. Not her cell. Not her house phone. Not the phone at the shop. He’d left messages Sunday and Monday inquiring about her father—wanting to apologize. What really hurt is that she wouldn’t talk to him. So he’d just kept calling several times a day, praying she’d pick up the phone, but not bothering to leave a message when she didn’t.
“Hey, Demon, you get that promo done?” The station manager looked up from a handful of papers as they passed in the hall of WKOR.
“Heading over to record it now.”
“Whoa, dude! Don’t let your fans see you that way.”
Damon looked down at the black dress pants and tailored shirt. He ran a hand over his chin, wondering if he should do another quick shave before heading to Bangor. “No, that wouldn’t do would it?” Wouldn’t his boss be amused if he knew where Damon was headed this afternoon?
“Bad boys don’t clean up that nice,” his boss said over his shoulder.
“Yeah, thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”
Life was too short to spend time spinning your wheels somewhere you didn’t want to be. Somehow, in her very mixed-up world of family obligations, Julie had unknowingly drilled that point home. Shit, he missed her.
Damon slinked into the control room. “Hey, Randy,” he said to the tech.
“Demon.” Randy barely looked up until he caught the outfit and nearly fell out of his chair craning his neck into the studio. “What the fuck, man? Someone die?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Damon went through the motions of recording the promo, his mind somewhere else. When it was finished, he slapped Randy on the back and ambled out of the radio station. What had taken him hours to perfect three months ago didn’t even cause him any concern these days. Demon’s personality, like it or not—and he didn’t—was now an integral part of him. Yelling into a microphone to promote his next public appearance had become second nature. That was not good. Well, he was on his way to rectify that. Even if no one else knew, he was truly happy about his decision. He would have been more pleased if he could have shared it with Julie, but somehow her father’s heart attack had been his fault and she didn’t seem to give a shit what he did.
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