Rock Rhapsody

by Rachel Cross

  She shook her head. “She’ll be tired and grumpy and — ”

  He shrugged. “So, she takes a nap. Kids do that, right?”

  She studied him with those serious gray eyes.

  His groin tightened.

  Damn it.

  “I hate like hell to do this to her, but I can see this might be a fairly harmless lesson for you. We’ll try it your way. But I want you to be around this week for the fallout.”

  He straightened. “Fallout?”

  “One week. But if we don’t last a week your way, you have to promise to be up by seven A.M. and home by six P.M. three days a week from here on in.”

  Since shifting Ella’s schedule would not be the problem Maddy made it out to be, he could agree to a promise that, if upheld, would cast his professional and personal life into chaos.

  Maddy held out her hand.

  He shook it, and held it.

  She froze.

  Gently, he turned it so he could see the disfigured joints. He traced the back of her hand, the almost translucent skin, running his thumb over joints that were swollen and warm to the touch. She was close enough that he could smell the heady scent of mint chocolate on her breath.

  He made some sound that, knowing her, she probably interpreted as pity.

  She yanked her hand away, mumbled goodnight, and fled the kitchen.

  • • •

  Ella’s eyes rolled back, her lashes fluttered. Her head fell forward in slow motion to land in the salmon, peas and noodles on her plate.

  “My God.” Asher put down his utensils, rose from his chair and rushed to Ella’s side.

  Maddy continued eating her dinner, making a valiant effort to suppress her grin.

  “Maddy,” he hissed.

  I must not laugh. “Yeah?”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s exhausted.”

  His eyes widened. “But … but she passed out mid-sentence. Something’s wrong with her.” He looked at Maddy from his crouch beside Ella. “She’s breathing.”

  “Of course she’s breathing. She’s just tired.”

  “What should we do?”

  “We should go back to an eight o’clock bedtime.”

  He groaned. “Damn it.”

  “Are you agreeable?” Maddy calmly speared a mouthful of salmon on her fork.

  “Fine,” he said curtly, standing.

  “Do you remember the terms?”

  His expression was lethal. “Yes.”

  Maddy put down her utensil and pushed back her chair. She carried her plate to the sink, careful not to show Asher her smug smile.

  She walked over to the little girl. “Ella? Ella, honey?” No response but the slow, deep breaths of slumber.

  She handed a wet-wipe to Asher and gently levered Ella’s head up. He cleaned the child’s food-covered face. Ella murmured something unintelligible, her eyes still closed.

  “Can you carry her up?” Maddy asked Asher in hushed tones.

  He nodded and hefted Ella into his arms. Maddy followed on his heels, grinning. She was glad Asher’s little experiment with bedtime hadn’t lasted more than four days — and not just because of the concession she’d managed to wring from him. Poor Ella was exhausted. Hell, she was exhausted. These last few nights, Ella revved up at nine P.M. and wanted to stay up until eleven.

  “Second wind.” Maddy’s mother had called it when Maddy explained the problem in an email.

  Bedtime had become a nightmare. But the real problem was, Ella was so overtired after school she would melt down from four o’clock until dinnertime. Now Asher would have to make time for his niece. And the poor kid was desperate for his attention. He was doing marginally better although he appeared shell-shocked every time Ella mentioned her mother, and he refused to go through his sister’s boxes. Maybe she should offer to help? Nah. He’d do it when he was ready.

  Chapter 6

  The phone conversation with Sterling Lowe haunted Maddy. Her mother’s financial situation kept her up at night, but she couldn’t give Ella’s grandfather what he wanted. It wasn’t right. She would keep Asher’s parenting struggles to herself. If something major came up, she’d talk to Asher and seek guidance from her mother and Ella’s therapist. Not Sterling Lowe. That cure had to be worse than the disease.

  She could believe that Sterling wanted what was best for his granddaughter. And there was no doubt that Asher had a steep learning curve in the child-rearing department. The real question was whether Asher had the interest and ability to make a life with the child. Could he prioritize her over Spade — over himself?

  Maddy twisted her lips. His progress in that area was incremental — token gestures, increased time at home. But being home more didn’t always translate into more time with Ella. It translated into time on the phone, in the study, and in poolside meetings with God knows who all from his industry — mostly suits. If things continued this way, she’d have no choice but to tell the therapist Asher wasn’t cutting it as guardian.

  Then there was the other problem. She was starting to get what all the fuss was about. Asher was more than charming. He was charismatic. His looks and flirtatiousness were a weapon he had honed to the precision of a deadly blade. Once he pulled it out, manipulation was not far behind. With a sinking feeling, she realized she was attracted to him. When he entered a room, the air snapped and sparkled. Now that he was around more, wearing his body hugging concert t-shirts and snug jeans, her hormones were in a perpetual state of high alert.

  And his reputation as the biggest playboy partier on the planet? Highly exaggerated. There had been no orgies at the house — in fact, no women at all. Of course, he was probably conducting his affairs elsewhere in deference to Ella. But still, he didn’t come home reeking of liquor and women, and he rarely drank alcohol at home. Why was she spending time thinking about his sex life? It wasn’t as though they’d ever have a relationship outside of the professional one.

  Maddy glanced up in surprise from the kitchen table where she was trying to write a paper when she heard clomping on the main staircase. It was early for Asher to be up. Though he had agreed to meet daily to discuss Ella at the psychologist’s urging, they had only met twice. The psychologist was clamoring for another meeting, too, but she’d have to get in line.

  Asher’s step faltered as he spotted her and she leveled him with a stare.

  “Maddy.” He greeted her heartily, ramping up the smile.

  She hastily turned back to her computer screen. Too late, the image was already burned into her retinas. No shirt! He wasn’t wearing a shirt. And what were those tattoos? Had the top button of his jeans been undone? No. Do not check him out again. His shoulders were broad and thickly muscled — from what? He was a guitarist for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t like he did heavy lifting. There had been a smattering of hair across his chest that tapered as it made its way into the fly of his jeans, lean hips and those muscles at the top of his waistband … what were they called? Oh, yeah. Obliques. She stifled a sigh. She wasn’t into tatted-up men, she reminded herself. Especially rock superstars. She peeked up as he seated himself at the table across from her, coffee in one hand, banana in the other.

  She tried to keep her gaze from sliding down his broad, inked chest. “Asher, we agreed to meet daily.”

  His smile disappeared. “Is everything ok?”

  “Yes and no.” Maddy closed her laptop. “This morning Ella had a stomach ache. Last night, a nightmare.”

  He took a sip from his mug. “Maybe she’s sick?”

  “The therapist thinks its anxiety.”

  There was real fear in those beautiful hazel eyes as they darted away from her study of him.

  Maddy refused to let him off the hook. “What’s the problem? You hired me to help you care for Maddy,
not take over care for her. She needs you.”

  Patience, Maddy.

  It was impossible to be around him and not know the kind of pain he was dealing with — the loss of his sister, Ella’s meltdowns, nightmares and always, always asking for her mom. He lived here; he had a level of awareness. She’d thought at first he might be depressed. Now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe this was just who he was.

  She focused on his eyes. Panic. Doubt. They skittered away from hers.

  “I’ve been busy, catching up … ”

  She waited.

  He put down the mug and rested his head in his hands.

  She reached across the table.

  He took her hand.

  Hers tightened in a comforting squeeze. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you are going through. Justin tells me what Dee meant to you, to all of you … It’s just that, you know, if you want Ella, you have to deal with her. Help her. A lot more than you have been.”

  His breathing was ragged and he withdrew his hand. “I know. I know. It’s just … God! I feel so sorry for her. It rips my heart out to hear her cry and when she asks for Dee, I feel completely helpless.”

  “If you’re grieving, it’s that much harder to comfort her.”

  He flicked his hand impatiently. “I’m fine. But I have no experience with children. None. And it doesn’t come naturally to me.”

  “Just give her love and attention. That’s all she needs from you right now. That and discipline.”

  He gave a short laugh. “Oh, that’s all.” He took his hand back and ran his hands over his face. “I’ll get her from school, take her out after. We’ll bring takeout home for dinner, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Asher rose with his coffee, refilled it and left the kitchen.

  • • •

  Maddy was making breakfast an hour later when her cell rang. She glanced at it, annoyed. Asher. She hadn’t heard him leave, but that was nothing new, this house was so damn big.

  “Maddy? Can you come pick me up, please? Justin’s out of town.”

  “Sure. Where are you?”

  “Stunt Road.”

  “Okay, where on Stunt Road?”

  “You can’t miss me.”

  “Did you break down?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “I’ll be there in … ”

  “About an hour, and Maddy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Drive carefully.”

  By eleven-thirty Maddy was creeping along in her old Honda on the most winding road she’d ever driven, with hundred foot drops on either side, and only a guardrail between her and death by ravine. Finally, she saw him. Or at least she saw the lights of the patrol car.

  Standing on the side of the road was Asher, his Aston Martin wrecked and at a significant rate of speed by the looks of things. A California Highway Patrol vehicle and a tow truck flanked the damaged automobile. She stared in disbelief out her front windscreen at the scene. Maddy pulled over, put the car in park and raced over to him.

  “Asher!”

  “I’m fine, Maddy.”

  She searched his face, taut with pain.

  “God-damn it, Asher, no you aren’t,” she gritted. “Officer, if you don’t need him for anything, I’m taking him to the closest hospital to get checked out.”

  The officer’s eyebrows arched. “He said he was fine.”

  She scowled at the two men.

  Asher took in her car. “Maddy, this is what you drive?” He was clearly horrified. “It’s a deathtrap.”

  She pointed to his cherry-red sports car, which had mated with the guardrail. “My car is a deathtrap? My car? Get in, Asher.”

  With the help of the CHP officer he seated himself, leaning to close the door with a wince.

  “Where’s the closest hospital?” she asked.

  “Don’t need the hospital,” Asher said.

  “Want me to call an ambulance?” the officer asked.

  “How far is it?” she asked, overriding Asher’s vehement “God no. No ambulance!”

  “Twenty minutes.” He pointed east.

  “I’ll drive him then,” she said.

  Thirty minutes later, they reached the hospital. Thirty minutes of listening to an irritable Asher lampoon her car. She was starting to regret giving him a ride.

  The hospital scene was the height of absurdity. People in the emergency room waiting room recognized Asher, wanted autographs and tried to chat with him. The ER staff was no better when they brought him back. Despite his injury he was laughing and joking and listening to people reminisce about Spade shows.

  “Listen … uh … Miss,” she paused to read the name tag of the attractive nurse who had taken Asher aside and was regaling him with her favorite Spade videos, “can you check him out? Or find someone who can?”

  Maddy wasn’t of the opinion that celebrities should get special treatment — far from it — but Asher was getting paler by the minute and no one seemed to want to evaluate him. The nurse left and a white-haired man in a lab coat, who had no idea what the fuss was about, asked Asher to lie on the table.

  Maddy averted her eyes when Asher removed his shirt. He noticed. “Squeamish, Maddy? There’s no blood.”

  She watched him hoist himself up on the table, muscles rippling under golden skin and felt a surge of lust so powerful she clenched her thighs together as a shiver moved through her.

  “Mmmm. I’m sending you for an x-ray. You might have broken a rib or two. If you’re lucky it’ll just be bruising, which can still cause significant pain,” the doctor said.

  In short order a group of nurses clustered in the room, ready to walk him back to the lab. Maddy looked heavenward.

  Asher handed Maddy his wallet and she took out his ID and insurance card and gave them to the receptionist, who had come in the room.

  Thirty minutes after that procedure, the doctor came back, clearing the two nurses from the room. “Mr. Lowe, the good news is nothing is broken. But you’re going to be pretty sore for a few days. It shouldn’t cause any complications. Rest and you’ll heal faster.”

  • • •

  No sooner had they returned to the Honda when Asher started up again about her car.

  “Asher. You’re pissing me off,” Maddy snapped.

  Asher shifted on the seat and tugged on the vinyl belt across his chest. “Tough.”

  “It has airbags, great fuel economy, it’s reliable — ”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean ‘No’? It’s my car. Listen, Mr. Silver Spoon — ”

  “You listen. I lost my sister in a crash.”

  Maddy spared him a glance. Amazing how quickly he could go from charming and flirtatious with the emergency room staff to irritable and angry with her.

  He was practically snarling, his hands fisted in his lap. “I’m not going to have you riding around in this … this … car,” he ground out. “I won’t have it.” He shook his head and half turned, grimacing in pain. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

  Maddy watched him out of the corner of her eye.

  He scanned the rear and spotted Ella’s car seat. “And Ella has been riding around in this? Unacceptable.”

  Maddy clenched her teeth together and pulled off the freeway and into a gas station. She put the car in park with a shaking hand and turned off the ignition, seething.

  “You outta gas?”

  She turned toward him in the seat. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. Out on that road in that car, going way too fast. You don’t get to have a death wish. It’s not about you anymore, Asher, or hadn’t you noticed? You’re now responsible for the life of a child. You don’t get to be re
ckless. You don’t get to avoid her. Not if you want to keep her.”

  His lips pressed together so tightly they were nearly white. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but his face was set, rigid. “Who do you think you are threatening me?”

  “Who do you think you are to lecture me about the safety of my car? Me! I drive like a freaking ninety-year old on tranquilizers when I have Ella in the backseat. I’m sick of it. I’ve only been here two weeks … ” Her breath caught on an angry sob and she turned away from him to stare out the windshield. “And I’m not even sure what I’m doing. I don’t know how to help her with her grief, and you’re … unavailable.” She dashed away angry tears then turned the key and the engine came to life.

  Asher reached over and covered her hand on the steering wheel, grimacing at the movement. “Okay,” he said, softly. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  She shot him a look. “Asher, I’m just the help. She’s your family. And yes, this car is fifteen years old, but it’s paid for, and given my student loans, I’m not sure I can get a loan for — ”

  Asher groaned. “Maddy, I’m not asking you to buy a car. I know you’re not in a position to do that.”

  Oh, yeah. He’d had her checked out. He knew she didn’t have two cents to rub together and a boatload of debt.

  “You want me to use one of your cars?” She pulled out of the gas station and back onto the freeway.

  “Hell, no. My cars aren’t known for their safety records. Most of them don’t even have a rear seat.”

  Asher tapped at his phone with an air of distraction for a few minutes, and then made a call.

  “Justin? Asher. I wrecked the Aston Martin on Stunt Drive. California Highway Patrol may be calling you, or a tow company, possibly the media. Yes, yes, I’m fine. Maddy took me to get checked out.”

  There was shouting from the other end of the phone and Asher pulled it away from his ear. She snuck a glance, wide-eyed.

  “I’ve already been given an effective lecture, Justin. Done?” There was a pause. “Yes. Good. Now I need you to get me a Mercedes for Maddy to drive, preferably a ML350 SUV. Loaded. Color?” He grinned. “Red. Hell, yes, I’m serious. Have you seen what she drives? I’m not having her drive my niece around in that. See ya.” Asher tried to put the phone in his pocket, grunted in pain, then gave up and put it on the console.