by Karen Booth
I shrugged in response. I wasn’t sure where I was going with it. I was merely making conversation. “You two won’t be far from each other. Boston is only a train ride from New York.” Claire and I both knew that Sam and Bryce’s romance likely wouldn’t survive Freshman year, but we’d decided that it never worked to caution Sam about anything. Best to let her learn this one on her own. She could cry on Claire’s shoulder when the time came.
Sam nodded. “Yeah. I think we’ll just play it by ear.” She and Bryce made eye contact that suggested that on some level, they also knew things might not work out, long term. “I mean, we’re both going to be in a dorm, so we’ll have to figure out how that will work.”
“Smart,” Claire said. “Get to school and go from there. You guys will probably be texting all day long anyway.”
“We figured we could Skype every few days,” Bryce added.
Sam’s eyes grew wide. “Oh. Mom. Skype.”
“Yes?” Claire took a sip of her wine.
“I can Skype with you guys and then I’ll get to see Sara.” Sam peered into the chair, where the baby had fallen asleep. “She’s going to change so much when I’m at school. I don’t want to miss too much of it.”
“That’d be wonderful.” Claire smiled. “I know I’d enjoy it immensely. Might help to make the house feel less empty.”
This might be as good a time as any. “Actually, Sam, your mom and I might be bringing Sara up to New York some time in the fall.”
Claire looked at me, perplexed. “Really?”
I set down my fork. “We would be coming through Boston as well if I can get everything sorted.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Claire set down her fork, telling me I’d better be forthcoming with an explanation, pronto.
“Graham called when I was putting on the chicken. He has a proposition for me. Well, let me put it this way, he has a proposition for us.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Twenty-four hours later, I was still trying to wrap my head around it. I’m going on tour. With the baby. And Chris. Pinch me.
Chris reached across the table and grasped my hand. The candles in the restaurant flickered, casting a flattering light. It somehow made Chris exponentially more handsome when he already had a distinct advantage over most mortals. So unfair.
“Date night, darling,” he said, rubbing my fingers with his thumb. “It’s exciting.”
“I know. It is.” I glanced at my phone as inconspicuously as possible.
He flipped the phone, screen down. “Sam will be just fine with Sara. Those two are probably sitting on the couch watching Pretty In Pink and eating popcorn.”
“Popcorn?”
“You know what I mean. Sam’s eating popcorn and Sara will have her bottle of mum’s milk when she wants it.” He dropped his head lower, his gaze connecting with mine. “Trust me. It’s fine.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “I know. You’re right. I shouldn’t worry.”
“Right. It’s my job to worry.” He slid my glass of wine closer to me. “It’s your job to drink more. I’m hoping to get lucky tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” I succumbed to his persistent flirtation with a smile and took a sip of Sauvignon Blanc. “Who’s the girl? Anyone I know?”
“Blonde I’ve known for a while now. Real saucy trollop. Bit of a handful.”
“Saucy trollop?”
“Or a mother of two. I get the terms confused.”
I laughed. “Don’t worry. You won’t have any problems with your saucy blonde.”
The waiter brought our appetizer, jalapeño cheddar hushpuppies. As proper as the restaurant was, with crisp white tablecloths and impeccable service, the cuisine was down-home, exactly the food for which Chris had developed a strong preference. He dunked one in the dish of cocktail sauce and downed it at once.
“You know those are really hot, don’t you?” I took a tentative bite of mine, and steam rose from the center.
He waved his hand in front of his mouth. “I’m learning that,” he mumbled. He gulped down half a glass of water.
“What do we need to do to get ready for the band coming next week?” I asked. Graham and Angie, Terence and his new girlfriend Chelsea, Nigel and his wife Heather, were set to arrive Tuesday. Graham and Angie would be staying in our guest room. The rest of the band and female counterparts would be living in my old house.
“The cleaning crew I hired will take care of things at your place on Monday. Otherwise, I don’t know. Buy a bunch of beer?”
“I just want to make sure everyone feels welcome.”
“Everyone will feel plenty welcome. We’re all just itching to get back into the studio.”
I had to smile at his pure enthusiasm. This is what he’s meant to do. Surely, it would feel good to get back to it. “I can’t wait to hear what a new Banks Forest record is going to sound like.”
“You and me both.” He sat back as the waiter cleared the appetizer platter and refilled our waters. “How are you feeling about the tour, love? I don’t want you to feel like I’m steamrollering you.” He again leaned forward and took my hand, this time fiddling with my wedding band and engagement ring.
I’d been mulling it over since Chris had sprung it on me at dinner the night before. After recording a new record this summer, the band would do two-dozen small club gigs across the U.S., creating an intense demand for tickets. The hope was that the buzz would create record label interest and if not, the band planned to release the new record independently. This was the advantage of the band managing themselves, “lean and mean” as Chris liked to call it. They could embrace the unconventional, turn on a dime, head in whichever direction they chose.
“I think it sounds like fun, but I’m still trying to envision it.”
“Oh, it’ll be a little crazy, but we’ll make it work. The three of us will just be living out of a tour bus for five weeks instead of the house.”
“I did have a fantasy about going on tour with Banks Forest. Granted, I was seventeen at the time.” Funny how things work out.
“It’ll be wonderful, I promise. Our grand family adventure. There’s so much bloody downtime on the road anyway. It’ll give me as much time as possible with you and Jellybean. I don’t want to miss a thing with her. Not one second.” The waiter brought our entrees and Chris immediately dug into his plate of shrimp and grits. “You can write on the bus. I bet you finish the draft of your novel by the time we get home.”
“You think so?”
“Definitely.”
“I meant to tell you, I read something interesting online this morning. Do you remember Amanda Carlton’s publicist, Valerie?”
“Sure. I met her the day you interviewed Amanda.”
“Right. Well, she just took a job as an acquisitions editor at one of the big publishers. It turns out her background is in publishing.”
“Now that is interesting.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I believe she owes you a favor.”
“A big favor.”
“Even better.”
“Of course, the book has to be good and I have to actually finish it.” The prospect was both terrifying and inspiring. “Easier said than done.”
“Claire, darling, you can do anything.” He reached for my hand and raised it to his lips. “Hell, you’ve made me a happy man and everyone said that was impossible.”
After dinner and a stunning piece of buttermilk pie, we made the short block-long walk to the studio, so Chris could finally show it off to me. When we stepped inside and he flipped on the light, I made an audible gasp.
“Wow.” I turned in the stunningly decorated lobby area, a mix of modern and 60s vintage, gray and black and white, exactly the way Chris wanted everything. “This is unreal. Never in a million years did I think this ratty old building could look like this.”
“Just wait. This is nothing.” Chris led the tour, through a large rehearsal space, recording isolation rooms, an administrative office, a band lounge, and f
inally to the control room. There were comfortable leather couches, a beautiful wood floor, and the expanse of glass looking into the main recording room, buttons and dials as far as the eye could see.
“Is it normal for this room to be so dimly lit?”
“There are brighter settings. This is mood lighting.”
“That mixing board is unreal. How did you even get it in here?”
He laughed. “That’s a story for the ages, but it was a big mess. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”
I ran my hand along the very edge of it. “Well, however much work it was, I’d say that the results were worth it.”
He turned in a slow circle, nodding. His pride in his accomplishment was unmistakable. “I wish your dad could be here next week. He would’ve gotten such a kick out of seeing the studio up and running.” He knocked his head to the side. “Of course, eventually he would’ve complained that the music was too loud and I would’ve had to send him home.”
I smiled, and it felt so good that I could think about him now without breaking down. I knew there were still rough days ahead, but I felt strong enough to handle it, Chris at my side. “There’s a lot I wish he could’ve been around for.”
“I know darling, but I promise you he’s here in spirit. I know it. Your dad’s mark is all over this project. And then of course, there’s you.” He drew closer, took my hand. “If there’d never been a Richard, there never would’ve been a you, and that would’ve meant a miserable existence for me.”
“I’m sure you would’ve muddled along.”
“But I’ve never once wanted to muddle.” The back of his hand brushed my cheek. “I want to feel alive. You make me feel that way.”
He combed his fingers through the hair at my nape, tilting my head back to kiss me. I melted the instant his lips touched mine, impatient and craving. I became a certifiable puddle when his tongue not-so-subtly tangled with mine. He sent ribbons of electricity through me when he possessively pulled my body against his. I arched into him, rose onto my tiptoes to get closer. A familiar bulge grew harder against my leg.
“Chris, honey,” I said breathlessly into his neck. “Shouldn’t we, you know, do this at home?”
His eyes were dark and intense, the most primal version of the look I’d ever seen. “It’s been weeks. I’m beginning to detest the sight of my own hand.”
I snickered. “I’m sorry, but I’m not having sex on that couch.”
“Why not? It’s brand new. I don’t think anyone other than me and the engineer have even sat on it yet.”
The engineer? Yuck. I shook my head. “No way. I won’t be able to think about anything else whenever I come into this room.”
“I know. Me neither. It’ll be perfect.” He kissed me sweetly and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Come on, what better way to test the studio’s soundproofing than with some really noisy sex?”
I giggled. “Make sure you got your money’s worth?”
“If the police show up, we’ll know I got ripped off.”
“No police. We’ve had enough excitement for a while.”
He smirked at me. “Okay, darling. We’ll do the respectable husband-and-wife version of this at home.” He shut off the lights and hurried me out of the building. A frustrated groan came out of him when he put on his seatbelt in the truck. “I hope you know how much I love you. I don’t drive around with a stiffy for just anyone.”
It was a miracle that Chris didn’t get pulled over on the way home. He took liberties with more than one stop sign, as well as the speed limit.
Sam was watching TV downstairs when we arrived, but Chris didn’t feel comfortable chatting with her when certain parts of his anatomy were so animated. “Five minutes. If you aren’t upstairs in five minutes, I’m starting without you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” I gave him a quick kiss and walked into the living room. “Hey honey,” I said to Sam. “How’d Sara do?”
She hit the mute on the TV remote. “She was so awesome, Mom. I love being with her.” She smiled wide. “It might sound dorky, but we had the best time. I’m going to be so sad when I go to school. I’m really going to miss her.”
She’s so sweet. I bit my lip, fighting back the emotion. “She’s going to miss you, too. We all will. That’s why we have to see each other as much as possible.”
She looked up at the TV. “Oh, my show’s back on. Are you going up to bed? Chris must’ve been tired.”
“You have no idea.”
She handed me the baby monitor and returned to her show. “Sara’s asleep in her crib. You’re back on baby duty.”
“Got it.”
I tiptoed upstairs, praying I wouldn’t wake up Sara.
Chris was waiting for me in our bed, as ready as he’d been twenty minutes earlier. “Took you long enough.” He hopped out of bed and his talented eyebrows hopped up and down. “Now get over here.”
I placed the baby monitor on the bedside table, kicked off my shoes and threw my arms around him. “It’s been way too long.”
“Far too long.” He frantically unbuttoned my blouse and pushed it off my shoulders, zeroing in on my breasts, kissing along the edge of my bra and gripping my ribcage. “I love our daughter, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous that she gets to spend so much time with the girls.”
Blood and heat flooded my skin when he dispatched my bra. I was thankful I’d pumped before we’d left the house. Hopefully I could make it through whatever came next without things getting messy. Best to be quick about it.
I shucked my jeans, hopped out of my panties. We were still standing, a difficult proposition when he regularly distracted me with his mouth and hands, gliding, grabbing, and caressing my entire body. Oh my God. This has been way too long.
He was breathing heavily already, nearly grunting. “Remember when I said we were doing this the proper husband-wife way?”
“What?” Stop talking already.
“I lied.”
“Let me guess. Against the door? Not pregnant this time?”
“You are so smart.” His eyes became even fierier. “But, it’s going to have to be the bathroom door. Otherwise, Sam might hear.”
“Whatever. I’ll do it against a garage door at this point.”
He scooped me up, grabbing my butt as I wrapped my legs around him. In a flash, my back met the bathroom door, he came inside, and everything shifted became a whirlwind—unguarded thrusts, gasps and moans. When he lowered me to the floor, my chest heaving, I couldn’t help but think back to the glorious memory of the shag rug in LA.
He kissed me, cupping the side of my face. “I love you so much, Claire. So much.”
“I love you too.” I watched as he swept his messy, sexy hair back from his forehead. “You crazy, crazy man.”
“Come on. Let’s go back to being proper.” He led me to the bed and we climbed in, seeking each other’s touch as soon as we were both under the covers. He put his arm around me and I settled my head against his chest.
“I feel so much better now.”
“Amazing how much better you feel after a little roll in the hay, huh?”
“Or a roll against the door.”
“If that suits your fancy.”
I laughed. “We might as well do that while we still can.”
“My sentiments exactly.” He cleared his throat. “Speaking of doing things while we can…” His voice had a very familiar tone to it. Too familiar. “I’ve been thinking.”
I rolled to my side and flipped on the lamp. “What? Bungee jumping in the Amazon? Dog sled racing in Antarctica?”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” His forehead was creased with feigned seriousness—he looked as if he was containing fits of laughter.
“I’m just trying to figure out what in the hell you’re about to say. Like I said earlier, we’ve had plenty of excitement and there’s no end to it. The band’s making a record, we’re going on tour. I’m trying to finish m
y book.”
“Right. It’s called life. We’re living it. Remember?” He threaded his fingers through my hair. “Living our amazing life. Together.”
I took a deep breath. He was right, so right. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. “Okay. I’m sorry. Tell me what you were going to say.”
Sara started to fuss in the baby monitor.
“Sounds like somebody’s up.” Chris pulled back the covers. “I’ll get her.”
“Wait.” I grasped his arm and he looked back at me with those heavenly green eyes. “Tell me first.”
“I was just going to say that we should have another baby. No big deal.” He kissed me on the forehead and leaned down to pick up his boxers.
“Another baby?” I couldn’t quite believe the pitch of the high note I’d hit on “baby”. Another baby?
He shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Two can’t be that much more work than one and we’re doing such an amazing job with the one we already have.” He unleashed his electric smile, the one he surely knew turned me to putty.
Nice. Like that’s fair at a time like this. “I guess.”
“No worries. I’ll get Sara.” He reached for the door. “You think about it.”
THE END
* * *
Also by Karen Booth
Hiding in the Spotlight - Excerpt at the end of this book
Rock Starred
The KISS Principle
London Calling
That Night with the CEO - Harlequin Desire
Pregnant by the Rival CEO - Harlequin Desire
* * *
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Acknowledgments
Back Forever would not have been possible without the help of the following people.
My husband, Steve, the man who has learned to live with my particular brand of insanity. My children, Emily and Ryan, who always understand if Mom is grumpy because of writing. Sara Young, the woman who sleeps in her cheerleader uniform. Karen Stivali, my critique partner and unflinching sounding board. Heather Todd, my grace-under-pressure alpha-beta reader. Fellow authors who are always generous with advice and support: Sarah Dessen, Celia Rivenbark, Elisa Lorello, David Menconi, Bobbi Ruggiero, Piper Trace, Megan Frampton, Suzi Parker, Elisa Nader, Sam Stephenson, Tom Maxwell and Margaret Ethridge. Rhonda Rivera and Amanda Pustz from Daily Duranie for all-around awesomeness. The readers who went the extra mile from the very beginning, especially Val Skorup, Angela McAllister, Michelle Gaddis, Jill Noble, Kimberley Lowrey, Rob Lasher, Paula Langan, Patrece Pluck, Carolyn Boardman, Debbie Craggs, Sarah Tule, Lynn Capirsello, Cathy Cook-Ghesquire, and Cathy Junkin. Carolyn Boardman and Georgia Bowring for being my British dictionary on the fly. Mandy Pennington for jumping into the beta-reading fray. Everyone who took the time to tweet, send an email, call, or write me a letter about Bring Me Back. Those are the gestures that keep a writer writing. My prized and ever-growing circle of Duranie friends, especially the crazy ones on Twitter. You know who you are. The talented women of Turquoise Morning Press, my original publisher, especially Kim Jacobs, Shelley Rawe, Wendy Williams, and my unflappable editor, Suzanne Barrett. Michael Rank and John Plymale for musical knowledge that they both play off as “no big thing”.