Instantly, his lust sparked hers, simmering for days under every touch of his hand or brush of his arm. Her mind shut off as her senses reeled and dazed her. She became all hands and mouth, ripping away his clothes, clutching and clinging, sucking and biting. Somehow, between the rough kisses and embraces, their clothes disappeared.
Their groans mingled and roared over the renewed rumblings of the ship’s engines. The world shrank to a cocoon of frantic pleasure. When she closed her eyes, little white stars exploded in her mind.
She felt his bare flesh pressing on hers, hot and demanding. When he plunged into her, she could only arch her back and squeeze her legs around him, encouraging him to buck as violently as he could. She pumped in rhythm, rode him as hard as he rode her.
After a shattering climax, they lay still and quiet, their panting breaths the only sound in the room. But they were only half spent. Years of pent-up lust and denial still filled them up, waiting for another eruption. Not yet sated, she wanted him again…and again. For now, she held him inside her tightly while she waited hungrily for more.
His hair, face and shoulders slick with sweat, Aaron continued to pin her down with his naked body. As though afraid if he got up, she’d vanish. With tenderness, she stroked his cheek. A hint of a blond stubble abraded her fingertips. Something inside him had settled down, had found a way to cope with Marello’s suicide. His anguish had dissipated, maybe had oozed from his skin just like the sweat.
“Well, finally,” she teased.
“God, yes!”
“Tomorrow, I’ll have the steward put the beds together.”
“No, tonight, Tess…”
With her tongue, she licked the sweat on his neck until his head burrowed between her breasts. He teased her nipples with his teeth, then came up to nibble her earlobes, her neck, her lower lip. A moment later, his cock filled her again. This time, they rode the waves of pleasure all the way in and crashed together on the shore.
An hour later, while she showered, Aaron called room service and got the two twin beds fastened together and their bed remade. That night, they cuddled and whispered together, spooning their bodies, until flesh on flesh warmth sparked more blasts of desire. In the afterglow of another climactic release, Aaron buried his face in the crook of her neck.
“Are you really mine? Tess, you won’t—”
“No, I won’t.” Go back to Porter, he meant. “I couldn’t.”
“Good.”
No, she couldn’t go back to Porter. Never again. And she meant every word. She marveled at the tricks her stubborn, fearful mind had conjured, the cool conniving role she’d convinced herself to play. The shrink she used to see years before had called it her “inadequate coping mechanism.” Inadequate, hell! That mechanism had served her all these years, keeping her from admitting that she was in love with Aaron Peterson, had convinced her that she’d gotten over her teenage crush, that he’d never be happy with her, that she was too hard and damaged and he was too trusting and kind… All the garbage she’d talked herself into believing.
The truth was she could no more play Porter’s adoring, obedient, faithful wife even for one month than she could hit an operatic high-F note for one second.
Aaron had won. And so had she. Yet, as she clung to him and rubbed her cheek across his bare chest, she knew she’d pay dearly for this bit of truth and for all the happiness that now consumed her.
Of that, she had no doubt.
Maybe others didn’t pay, but she would.
Over the next two days, there weren’t any shore excursions. Their love nest substituted for Colombia and Aruba. In the evening, they emerged shakily, like newly born butterflies, to eat dinner, rehearse a few hours and then entertain the good folks in the Horizon Lounge. If Eduardo noticed a change in their demeanor, he said nothing. If the two pesky PIs followed them and snapped surreptitious photos, neither Tess nor Aaron noticed or showed a smidgen of concern. Tess buried her cell phone in the depths of her satchel, incommunicado with Porter and all of L.A. For the last four days of their cruise, in Tess’ view, the world out there did not exist.
Chapter Eleven
Tess blinked her eyes open. Today, their stop was Ocho Rios. Eight Rivers. The last of the ship’s ports of call before Fort Lauderdale. She and Aaron needed a break, needed to get out among people and in nature before doing their last show that night. Time to recharge their creative batteries.
Sleeping like a little boy, Aaron lay face down, his mouth slack and open, dead to the world. He needed recharging, too. There was no doubt about his sexual prowess or his stamina. The man could keep on going, like the proverbial bunny, but today he was going off duty. Offline. Taking a holiday. You name it.
Using her bent arm as a lever, she rolled on top of his naked body. He stirred and frowned. Soft growls rose from his throat. Not as soundly asleep as she’d thought, he captured her behind with two, backward flung hands.
“Ha, playing possum. I thought so. Time to rise and shine, my good man. I’m not missing another chance to sightsee. That waterfall beckons. C’mon, baby, greet the day.”
She lowered her head and nibbled his left ear, which earned her a grin and two pinches on her buttocks. Before she had a chance to screech “Ouch!”, he maneuvered himself out from under her, spilling her but rapidly pinning her under him. He gave her a long, sleepy but deep, wet kiss. Breathless, she surrendered.
“Okay, you win. Morning…er, tumble first.”
“Tumble, eh? So glad you’re a lady, Tess,” he gibed, “a willing lady. Ocho Rios can wait an hour. The waterfall and limestone pools will wait for us.”
“Our shuttle leaves in forty minutes.” She’d already checked her watch. “Oh, shit! We were supposed to forward our watches an hour. That means we’re already late!”
“Relax, I already reset them. We still have forty minutes.”
With that confident pronouncement, he eased into her, closing his eyes for a moment and sighing raggedly. Nothing more was said as she let a wave of mind-bending desire ripple through her and carry her to shattering ecstasy.
On the shuttle traveling into town, Aaron brought up the topic Tess knew had been on his mind since Acapulco. All their CDs had sold, much to their satisfaction and surprise, and they’d gotten a backlog of orders. They’d played and sung his Cold War, Hot Love set the night before to rousing applause. Those who had heard it before had clamored to hear it again. A talent agent on board had come up to Aaron afterwards and pressed a business card into his hand. The man, John Snider, promised to have a friend of his—a corporate investor with entertainment contacts—get in touch. Tess knew such promises weren’t worth much. L.A. County revolved around nighttime promises and dreams, most of them broken by dawn. Still, Aaron took the man’s card and thanked him.
“You’ve got a real hit there, Mr. Peterson. A real hit. You’ll be hearing from us. I’m a scout for Global Ventures and I get around the valley, take in at least three plays a week, catch lounge and club acts all over town, looking for talent. Your singer here has a real knack for turning a stylistic phrase, real musicality, plus the looks. I hope you put her in your play. She’d make it a winner.”
“I intend to,” Aaron said, winking at her, “though she’s driving a hard bargain with her demands. You know prima donnas.”
She’d sauntered over to the two men. “I don’t have my Equity card yet, so he’s getting me cheap. He should be so lucky.” She’d encircled his waist with one arm. “But it’s okay. He’s paying me in other ways.” As Aaron’s face colored, she had to stifle a laugh.
Joking aside, Tess knew that Aaron was encouraged by the crowd’s reception of the musical numbers. Whether the rest of the play, its storyline, characters and dialogue, would be as well received was another story.
On the shuttle, he was brimming with excitement. While she watched a jungle landscape pass by in a blur outside their coach’s window, he grabbed her hand and leaned into her.
“So, Tess, you’ll sing Sophie
’s role? You weren’t just joking last night?”
She turned to him. “If you think I can do it, the acting and the singing, yeah. I’d like to give it a try.”
“You bet you can do it. It’s your opportunity to break away from the club circuit, get into legitimate musical theater. It’s time, Tess.”
Nodding, she kept her reservations to herself. She thought of the hour-long show six nights a week at Porter’s club. An hour seemed like a cakewalk until you added an hour commute on the freeway from her San Gabriel apartment to West Hollywood, two to three hours of rehearsal, an hour for makeup and costume, an hour of gym workout—every day—and then the hour show became a full-time gig. But Porter was paying her more than the other clubs were paying their headliners, a hundred-and-five-thousand per year in a two-year contract. For the valley, that was about as steady and secure an employment as a singer got. She was lucky to have it. Still, if she took on Sophie’s role, where would she find the time and energy?
Another thought, more dreadful than the last—What would happen to that two-year contract once Porter found out about her and Aaron? After she broke off their engagement, would he breach that contract? Would that be the least of her problems? Porter had a lot of contacts in the valley. He had the power to make or break careers.
Her tense silence prompted Aaron to add, “I can’t pay you much and I can’t promise you it’ll go anywhere.”
“Slave labor and no job security. Gee, Aaron, what a way to charm a girl. My club gig pays me a hundred-thou and change. I need it to keep my car and apartment, my medical and dental, my mother’s care—”
“Tess, move in with me. I’ll support you. I signed another movie score contract. It’s a low-budget TV film, but heck, it’s something. It pays the bills.”
She frowned. “But didn’t you say you mortgaged that little house to the hilt? Or your parents did?”
“It’s not theirs. I bought it from them three years ago. Tired of paying L.A. rent. But yes, I mortgaged it last month to raise some capital, some seed money for the La Jolla production.”
She was already shaking her head, her stomach roiling with fear and uncertainty. “I’m keeping my apartment, Aaron, and the club gig. Just in case things go south, I’ll have a place to live and a little money.”
That apparently struck a nerve. He clenched his jaw and turned to gaze out of the windows on the opposite side of the coach. She nudged his arm but got no reaction.
“You know how I freak out at the thought of being homeless and broke. I can’t-I won’t give up my club job. That’s bread and butter, all the necessities of my life. Sorry, but I need it.” When Aaron said nothing, she added defensively, “Sorry if I seem so high maintenance to you, but I do have expenses. Besides, I’ve got nearly eighteen months to go on that two-year contract. It’s going to be bad enough breaking off the engagement to Porter, but breaking my contract—no way. He’d sue me for wages and damages. I’d end up owing him hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe more once his limousine lawyers got through with me. I have twenty-thousand in savings, Aaron, that’s all, but it’s my safety net. You know Mac and I pay over five-thousand a month to keep our mother in that nursing care home.”
Her voice had risen so much that people around them were darting glances their way. Aaron was staring at her, too, his jaw unclenched enough for him to whisper in her ear.
“Okay, Tess, I get it. I don’t like it one damn bit, but I get it. I just wish you had more confidence in me.”
Her thoughts all aswirl, she calmed down as her emotions settled. She’d just jumped the first big hurdle, getting Aaron to understand her financial concerns. The club gig stayed. Now it was her turn to make a concession.
“What about this? You’ll be working both jobs, directing the orchestra for the musical and doing the movie score. I’ll do both, too, the club and the play. It’ll be hard…but if you set rehearsals in the mornings and I can leave by two or three in the afternoon, at the latest, it might work.”
His smile warmed her to the very core of her heart. Her mind relaxed.
“Then you’re committed to playing Sophie?”
She admired his persistence. “Yep, for better or worse. Although you can get a more experienced actress, one with an Equity card.”
He leaned over and kissed her mouth. “As long as you’re willing to take other kinds of…uh, compensation, you’re hired, babe.”
Happily, Tess shared his relief as she wiped the red smudge of lipstick off his lips. Now that she’d made her mind up, she knew she could do it. How, she wasn’t sure, but determination was her middle name. Of course, this arrangement would depend on Porter’s acceptance and he might not be too inclined to make things easy for her. When she’d left for the cruise, she was his club’s headliner and her contract with Porter’s club was an exclusive one. Meaning, she couldn’t accept any other singing gig outside his club. At the time, for what he was willing to pay her, it seemed like a reasonable arrangement.
But once Porter got the news of their breakup, would his ego get in the way?
You betcha, baby.
“Every evening, while you’re at the club, I’ll work on the film…and maybe do some polishing of the play’s dialogues. My pal, Steve, is going to help me with that. Jeez, Tess, when will I see you alone? And where? My place or yours?”
“You’re kidding me. More likely at rehearsals.” She shot him an ironic smile. “We’ll find a way.”
He touched her head with his and whispered, “I want you in my bed every night. Can we find a way to make that happen?”
“We can try.” Her face heated up with a surge of desire, which she cooled off with her next remark. “So who’s playing the American and Russian hotties?”
Aaron frowned. “Know any good looking, buff, baritones—” His show of jealousy pleased her. “—who’re either gay or married with four kids each?”
“Actually, I do…” She threw him a quirky grin and nodded.
“Good, auditions begin next week. I called Steve last night. He directed last season’s hit drama at the La Jolla Playhouse. He said he’d direct for me, but he’s Equity, so I have to pay him union wages. I’d do the American’s part, but, Tess, I can’t do the arranging, direct the orchestra, and do a role. Oh, and hustle the rest of the money men. Plus, the musicians, stage hands, light and sound techs are all union, too. It’s going to cost a fortune to do a six-to-eight-week run in La Jolla. The crew…most of these people are friends or friends of friends. I can’t let them down.”
“You’re taking on a lot, Aaron,” she chided gently, “especially in the middle of doing a film score.”
“Which pays the mortgage,” he reminded, “You know me, Tess. I’m not happy unless I’m in the thick of things.”
“You’re crazy, you know that. And I must be crazy, too, to jump on this crazy bandwagon.”
She rested her cheek on his warm, bare shoulder. They were wearing tank tops and shorts as cover-ups over their swimsuits, anticipating a cooling off dunk at the waterfall pools.
“No guts, no glory,” Aaron rasped against the top of her head.
“No game, no fame,” she quipped back. These were the rally cries of SoCal wannabes on the quest. Surprised at herself, she found herself sucked back into the old illusions and phony dreams. The false dreams she’d given up years ago.
Only now, with Aaron, maybe they weren’t so phony or false.
* * * *
The spray from the two-hundred-foot waterfall drifted across the gorge, adding layer upon layer of mists to the river’s tributaries that flowed from the cataract. Terraces of limestone-smooth saucers percolated with flowing water and dotted the base of the gorge. Tess exclaimed when she saw them.
“Let’s go down,” she urged Aaron as she seized his hand.
The shuttle bus group composed of passengers and a few members from the entertainment crew had stopped at the lookout sight above the gorge. Pairs broke off, trickling away from the larger group and ve
nturing down the gravel-and-dirt path that backed along the cliff to the gorge’s valley floor. Elephant-ear ferns bordered the path on both sides. A rope handrail flanked the path, slippery in places where mists coated stones. Tess’ sandals were slick, so Aaron held her tightly around the shoulders. In one arm, she carried a big straw tote that held towels, water bottles and sunscreen. With the other, she clutched his waist.
Twenty minutes later, they’d selected one of the limestone saucers, had stripped down to their bathing suits and were now luxuriating in cool, refreshing and constantly flowing water. Simultaneously, they both slipped below the surface, then emerged, their faces and hair dripping wet, laughing at the sensation. Tess wiped her eyes as she straddled Aaron’s lap. They cuddled and kissed.
“Whoa, take it easy, naughty girl. This is a public place.” She grinned at Aaron’s mock bashfulness and remained firmly planted on his thighs. “Admit it, Tess. You’re glad you came, aren’t you?”
“I must admit, there’ve been rather nice and totally unexpected perks.”
“Aw, rubbish. You came because you knew, subconsciously, you were making a mistake marrying Porter. I think I was your—to paraphrase Cole Porter—lingering refrain.”
She hated when he was so cocksure, especially of her. “You wanted me on this cruise when you could’ve asked any number of other female singers. You had two objectives in bringing me, didn’t you?”
“You’re too clever, Tess. But yeah, and thank God, I got them both. You, as my sexy woman, and you, as sexy Sophie. If you hadn’t come back to me or agreed to play Sophie, I don’t know…” He shook his head, scowling, then brightened. “We’ll take another cruise some time, only next time as passengers with a balcony suite. Stick with me, have faith in me. I know it sounds like a tall order…”
With both hands, she tenderly fondled his face, hair, neck. His gaze filled with boyish expectancy.
Scheming and Dreaming in Los Angeles Page 12