by Karina Bliss
He sucked in a breath at the icy burn. “I promise not to defend your honor again.” He caught her hand with his free one until she looked at him, and tried to sound nonchalant. “Good morning, Dimity.”
“Stop scanning me for love sickness. I’m immune to the power of your mighty wang.”
Squeezing her hand in relief, he released it. “As long as you’ll agree that it’s mighty.”
“I’ll agree that you’re a lover not a fighter,” she retorted.
“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” he said. “Can we also agree that our campaign to get Mel back was a stupid idea.”
Her mouth set firm. A mouth that tasted as luscious as it looked. Sober, he didn’t want that knowledge. Didn’t know what to do with it.
“If I’d known you wouldn’t respect me in the morning,” she said, “I’d never have fucked you.”
“From what I remember, I fucked you,” he clarified, and for a joint instant they were naked in that bed together. Both looked away. “And how am I disrespecting you?”
“By discounting a brilliant idea, because you’re embarrassed and not sure how to be friends anymore.”
His first impulse was to deny it, which only lent truth to her allegation. He absolutely didn’t want last night to affect their friendship. And there’d been a note in her voice that his musician’s ear picked up. Sadness? Fear? Why was he suddenly attuned to the nuances of this woman?
He forced himself to consider her plan dispassionately, as though they’d never been naked together. For all their give-each-other-shit banter, he’d worked closely with Dimity for well over a year and respected her as a strategist. She had quirky, sometimes crazy ideas and they always paid off.
Like the time they’d showed up at a gig by a retirees’ chorus who sang covers of iconic rock songs. Zander singing a duet of ‘Summer Daze’ with a ninety-two-year-old while the band harmonized with the choir had become a YouTube sensation. It was still one of Seth’s favorite performances.
“So even sober, you think the idea has merit?”
“I do,” she said. “But don’t take my word for it. Read the texts from Mel again.”
“I would if I could find my cell.”
“Here.” She reached behind the fruit bowl and handed it to him. “You left it on the counter. I may have sat on it at one point, so I hope it’s working.”
Wiping his chilled hand dry on his shirt, he accepted it. “What the hell was I thinking?”
“I haven’t got time for this,” she said, tipping the dregs from the glasses and stacking them in the dishwasher. “I need to concentrate on work. Luther’s not going to tell, so if we enter into a phony relationship, no one need know it’s been consummated. In fact, I’d prefer it that way. Let’s not compound one drunken mistake by making a big deal of this.”
“I hear you.” He read his text messages. Mel’s added up to something, he just didn’t know what. Between his hopes, his hangover and Dimity’s subtext translations, he might as well be reading Sanskrit.
Grabbing the plates of leftovers, he carried them to the trash. “Be honest.” The congealed chili fell into the bag with a soft plop. “Why are you helping me with this, really?” Her offer wasn’t just for love…friendship…that was for sure. Sentiment didn’t hit the top ten on her list of priorities.
She emptied the half-full bottle of flat champagne down the drain, and the glugging sound worsened his thirst. “You’re the one member of the band the public universally loves,” she admitted. “The nice guy, the sensible guy. Your support for Zander is vital.”
“He already has it.” He stacked the dishes in the dishwasher, annoyed that she’d question his commitment. “Got any Advil?”
“You’re also the canary in the mine—as long as you’re chirpy, no one thinks the band is doomed.” She opened a drawer, retrieved the headache tablets and gave him two. “I can’t have you wandering around looking like the world’s coming to an end.”
“Okay, that I don’t have under control, yet.” He found a glass and chased down the pills with water—sweet, cold water—then rinsed and refilled it. “Here.” He offered her the glass. “Hydrate.”
“And honestly?” Her blue eyes met his, full of resolve as she accepted the glass. “I can fix this for you.”
Even knowing himself a fool to clutch at hope, Seth couldn’t resist her absolute confidence. “Fine. I’m in.”
“You won’t regret it.” She drank the water while he wiped the countertop, then her manner became business-like. “Until we leave for New Zealand, keep communication with Mel limited to texts. If she wants to talk, make excuses, say you’re busy. She needs to feel what it’s like not to have you in her life. No nice guy qualms, Seth, you hear me?”
“Yes.” He needed a few days to process what had happened last night anyway, to try to make sense of it. Catching sight of the clock on the stove, he swore softly. “Listen, I’ve got to get going. Moss, Jared, and I have that meeting with Beau Davies and I need to change out of my slut’s clothes.”
“Why are you meeting Beau?”
He thought she’d know. “I have no doubt Zander can restore his reputation—I’ve seen his power of reinvention firsthand. But if his singing voice doesn’t recover—”
“It will.”
“But if it doesn’t—” the specialist had put the odds of a full vocal recovery at forty percent “—we’ll need to form a new band and find a new lead singer.” He texted for a cab. After he changed clothes he and Moss still had to pick up Jared. It was going to be tight. “If Jared and I can’t talk Moss into moving into it, Beau has a great voi—”
“You boys play among yourselves.” The dishwasher tray rattled as Dimity dropped her empty glass into it. “I’m not wasting my energy on worst-case scenarios.”
“C’mon,” he teased, pocketing his cell. “You’ve gotta have a Plan B, a machinator like you.”
“Rage will tour again.” She slammed the dishwasher shut. “And I think it’s incredibly disloyal that you’re all meeting with Beau behind Zee’s back.”
Seth stared at her. “What are you talking about? Zander organized it.”
* * *
Dimity barely waited until Seth left before she phoned Zander, not giving a damn what time it was in New Zealand.
His cell was switched off.
She phoned Elizabeth’s cell. “Hi,” said a Kiwi accent. “You’ve reached the voicemail of Eliz—”
“Argh!” She cut the connection.
Diamanté padded in, looking for breakfast. “What the hell’s Zee playing at?” she asked the cat, picking her up for a pat. “I thought I’d talked him out of this.”
Zander had argued for a worst-case contingency plan almost from the moment he woke from surgery. I know you don’t want to hear it, he’d written on his tablet, unable to speak through the early part of his vocal recovery, but I’d be negligent if I didn’t factor worst-case in.
She’d backspaced until the whole namby-pamby sentence disappeared.
“Plan B is one thing. But we don’t build panic rooms and we never will, so get that idea out of your head right now!” She hadn’t realized she’d been yelling until he’d typed:
I’ve lost my voice, not my hearing.
He’d been depressed after losing Elizabeth—that’s the only reason Dimity excused his heresy. “Screw the odds,” she’d said passionately. “Your singing voice will recover and Rage will rise, stronger than ever.” She thought he’d adopted her optimistic view, especially after Elizabeth stormed her way back into his life. Now, it seemed he’d only stopped talking about worst-case scenarios to Dimity.
In her arms, Diamanté began to purr. “Sure, the guys are holed up writing new songs,” Dimity explained patiently. “Sure, Zee wants them at music events and in the public eye as much as possible…both those things are good for Rage. But encouraging them to talk to another singer—even informally—is taking their fears outside the family. And that’s not good for anyone’s morale, l
et alone public confidence. Am I the only frickin’ one who sees that?”
In response, Diamanté dug her claws into Dimity’s forearms, reminding her of their differing priorities. Taking the hint, she put the cat down and poured some dry food into a bowl, then grabbed her phone to try Zee again, pausing before she hit redial. This week he was seeing his specialist and the big question would be answered once and for all.
Slowly, she put down her cell. If her nerves were on edge, Zander’s must be totally shot, despite his bravado. She needed to be more supportive—Samwise Gamgee carrying Frodo Baggins the last fifty feet up Mount Doom at the end of their long and perilous journey. Did Sam stop to lecture Frodo about his attitude, within sight of their goal? No, he didn’t. Quit panicking and think about something else.
Like what…Seth? With an audible groan that caused Diamanté to glance up from her breakfast, Dimity attacked the final cleanup like a crime scene, removing all evidence, and even taking the trash bag outside so no scent of chili lingered.
It had been a long time since she’d made a strategic error, and screwing the heartbroken drummer when the band needed stability reflected an appalling lack of judgment. Her personal needs didn’t override her professional goals…ever.
When she’d crept out of the bedroom following their wild night, she’d guessed Seth would be concerned about how she ‘felt’. For a moment, with his compassionate gaze on her this morning, she’d wanted to admit to confusion…an impulse that still horrified her. Fortunately, it passed, and she’d been able to project the woman he’d expected—tough, controlled, strong.
It had been a huge relief when he’d recommitted to her plan. Deep down, she still felt that she’d taken advantage of him. Accounts would only be squared when she’d helped him reunite with Mel. At least that was an outcome she could influence.
She was chopping fruit for her muesli—sex had certainly given her an appetite—when Luther strolled into the kitchen. “You sort things out with Seth?”
“What…yeah.” She stopped slicing banana. “Listen, when you were in New Zealand recently, did Zee talk about his specialist appointments at all?”
“No.”
“And he was okay, not depressed or anything when you left?”
He shot her a glance as he opened the refrigerator and pulled out salmon and cream cheese. “If you’re asking if I know his prognosis, the answer is no. Far as I’m aware, he hasn’t seen the specialist. And after Elizabeth, he’d tell you first.”
The reminder steadied her. Zander wasn’t hiding anything from her because his voice was screwed. He was going behind her back because she’d made her disapproval clear, and because he didn’t want her seeing him scared. And he was right…she didn’t want to see it. It was tough enough mastering her own fear. Relieved, she scattered banana over her muesli and reached for a pineapple.
Luther cleared his throat. “Listen, can I ask you one question about Seth, and then I swear I’ll mind my own business?”
She braced herself. “One.”
“How?” He dropped a bagel into the toaster. “I’m missing the link between the you two who left last night and the you two I saw this morning.”
He wasn’t the only one. “I don’t know, it wasn’t planned.” Alcohol played a factor, but there had been more behind it, much more. “I wish I could work it out myself…why are you smiling?”
His mouth relaxed. “I’m not.”
She chopped off the pineapple’s crown. “Let me ask you a question and then I swear I’ll mind my own business. Who is she?”
Ha. That got rid of the smirk.
He returned to making his breakfast. “How about we both agree our private lives stay our own business?”
“That suggests the two of you haven’t gone public yet.” As she cut a couple of slices from the pineapple and removed the skin, her mind raced around their acquaintances. Zander had first suspected a crush on tour, which narrowed it down. She had to be an employee, they’d been too busy to form meaningful civilian relationships. Several of the sound techs were single women.
“Stop,” Luther warned. “I can practically see the cogs moving. Leave this alone, Dimity. I only told you so you’d understand why I’m impervious to your incredible beauty.”
“That is a way better explanation than you made last night.”
“I know…I was nervous. We’ve always had a good working relationship and I didn’t want to screw that up.”
“You haven’t.” She circled a smaller knife around the central core of each golden slice. “Well, if you won’t tell me, I’ll have to start my own investigations.”
He laughed as he slathered his bagel with cream cheese and topped it with salmon. “I’ve been in Special Forces. I know how to hide my tracks, and you haven’t got a hope of breaking me.”
She paused to admire him. “Wow, no wonder I wanted you to crush on me. You’re a worthy opponent, but don’t worry—” airily she waved her knife “—I’ve moved on.”
This time he made no attempt to hide his grin. “With Seth.”
“Very funny. I’m helping him get his girlfriend back.” Assuming Mel deserved him. “And you still owe me one serious answer, since I gave you one. Is she an American?”
“No, Mel’s a Kiwi.”
“Don’t play dumb.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t have told you anything, if you hadn’t caught me off guard.”
She watched him pour himself some juice. “You just said you couldn’t be caught off guard.”
“Where the hell were you when we needed an interrogator in Honduras?”
Neither of them had to ask the other to keep their secret. It went without saying.
A thought occurred to her. “Luther, does this woman even know?”
He paused for the briefest second, then picked up his breakfast. “I wonder if the sun’s hit the back porch.”
Got ya. “I’m available for consultancy services, once I’ve helped Seth. I mean, your rejection of me was so badly done, God knows what your skills are like when you actually care about someone.”
“I also know half a dozen ways to kill someone,” he called over his shoulder.
“Pffft. You military guys all say that.” She felt better after their skirmish, more herself.
Her cell buzzed. Wiping one hand clean of pineapple stickiness, she answered it, activating a video link. Jared’s wife, Kayla appeared on the screen.
“Oh no,” Dimity said, dismayed. “I forgot we were having brunch—” she looked at her watch “—in half an hour.”
“Don’t panic, I’m calling to cancel anyway. Jared has a band meeting and can’t watch the kids. Unless you want me to bring them?”
Dimity propped her cell against the backsplash so she could segment her pineapple slices. “Babe, we’ve talked about this.”
She made no bones about the fact that babies scared the hell out of her.
Kayla grinned. “Just kidding.”
“Oh my God, that’s a terrible pun.” She searched her friend’s face as she finished her prep. Bright smile, too bright eyes. Kayla and Jared were struggling up their own Mount Doom. The family had come along on the last tour leg because rock bands and preschoolers were such a natural fit…not.
Trouble ensued, mostly because Jared’s ego had gotten out of control and he’d acted like a jackass, but he came to his senses when Kayla took the kids home early. Dimity had organized the repatriation, at which point she and Kayla became friends.
The couple were using Zander’s recuperation time to heal their marriage, but Kayla’s relentless cheerfulness suggested it wasn’t going as well as they’d hoped.
“Oh, what the hell.” Resolutely, Dimity ignored the flutter of panic. “Bring the brats to brunch.”
Kayla started laughing in earnest. “Your face. No, we’ll reschedule. I’ve promised Maddie we’ll go swimming now. But first tell me how the hunt went.” It had been Kayla who’d insisted Dimity take a night off and celebrate her mother’s remarr
iage, though she’d chosen the manner of it herself. “Did you get laid last night?”
“No,” Dimity said reflexively. Moss had seen her at the club, seen her leave with Seth. Absolutely she wasn’t confessing to getting laid last night.
Kayla peered closer. “Is that beard burn on your neck?”
“No!” Dimity’s hand flew to cover the evidence. “One of the kids must have smeared jelly on your screen.”
The other woman’s brown eyes narrowed. “Furtive…almost guilty. You did get laid last night. And you’re covering the wrong side of your neck.” She glanced away from the screen. “Hi, Seth, Jared’s in the den. I’m teasing Dimity about the beard—”
“Zeesontheotherlinecallyoulater.” Cutting the connection, Dimity sent her cell spinning across the counter, a snake about to bite her.
Sitting on the floor, cleaning her paws, Diamanté froze mid-lick.
“What? He’ll make an excuse. It’ll be fine. We’ve got this.”
Diamanté resumed her grooming.
Dimity washed pineapple juice off her hands, her neck, her cell’s screen, and reminded herself that rallying was her superpower.
She was pretty damn good at denial too.
Chapter Six
Dimity’s workload meant she didn’t see Seth in person again until she walked into the business class lounge at LAX five days later, by which time she’d relegated their inexplicable hook-up to the annuls of ‘herstory’.
He stood at the buffet piling crackers, grapes and cheese onto a plate, dressed down as usual in a charcoal T-shirt and jeans with a fine-knit black hoodie tied around his waist. Soft scuffed tan boots matched the scruff on his jaw and his tousled dark red hair. Just Seth as she’d seen him at a dozen airport lounges on tour, her easy-going, unmanageable, flirt buddy.
So it was an unpleasant shock when her heart rate increased, it got harder to breathe, and she felt a tingle in places she thought she’d returned to dry dock. Muscle memory—it had to be.
Besides, she had far more important things to worry about. Despite her rationalizations, her sense that Zander already knew his diagnosis had grown with every phone call, but all she could get out of him was, “We’ll talk when you get here.” Here was only fifteen hours away.