He stopped and turned to face her. “Are you sure? Have you ever been kissed?”
JoJo rolled her eyes, even though in dark she knew he couldn’t see her do it. She could still hear the music playing onstage. She could sense people standing about waiting for the next transition. But in this corner of the backstage area it felt like they were in their own world. A world where two people might take advantage of a kiss.
“Of course I’ve been kissed. I’m not that untouchable.”
“On the contrary,” he said as he wrapped a hand around her neck. Leaning close he pressed his lips to her ear. “You know when I thought about touching you here I expected to prick myself on your barbs and pull back a bloody mangled hand. Now I see, it’s only soft skin.”
“Mark, don’t.”
He raised his head and met her eyes, his lips poised mere inches above hers. “Really?”
JoJo closed her eyes.
No, not really.
Really what she wanted was for him to kiss her so she could know what it felt like with him. Because she wanted to feel that. She wanted to know what his lips felt like. What his tongue would feel like in her mouth. How it would make her feel in return.
Needy, maybe. Wanting.
But that would be okay, wouldn’t it? To have a hint of sex. A sliver of pleasure.
She didn’t answer him, but when he ran his thumb along her neck and waited patiently for her answer, she nodded. Enough to communicate what she wanted without committing herself fully.
It was enough.
His head dropped and suddenly she knew what his lips felt like on hers. Perfect. She surrendered to him, because it became clear very quickly that he was a master-class kisser. Tilting her head for the best angle, controlling the speed and the nature of the kiss.
Lips only. Top lip, then bottom. Then a nip of his teeth. A gentle swipe of his tongue. Finally her mouth was open and he was thrusting his tongue against hers in a way that instantly made her go wet.
It was too much. It felt too good. She could feel his body move closer, feel the contact as their chests touched and their thighs mingled together. She’d worn a cocktail dress for opening night. Red, because it was her favorite.
Red, because it was sexy and she’d done nothing but think about sex for days.
The hand not wrapped around her neck stole around her waist to her back where the red dress plunged deeply. She felt his hand on her bare skin and moaned a little into his mouth.
Had she ever been touched there, at the small of her back? He wouldn’t be able to feel it, but she was sure he was touching another one of the tattoos she sported. For some reason it turned her on even more. Nobody had ever seen that tattoo and now he was touching it.
He pushed her closer to his body until she was pressed fully against him and she could feel his erection against her belly. Instinctively, she moved closer, rubbing herself against him, teasing his sex with her body. Imagining what it would feel like to have all that hardness with all his power behind it pushing inside her.
Inside her body.
Abruptly she pulled away. So hard she would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her and held her steady.
“I can’t. I can’t.”
“Okay,” he said calmly. “Relax. This wasn’t going to be anything more than kiss.”
Of course it wasn’t. They were in public, the show crew was milling about. The music was still playing.
She hadn’t heard any of it.
“It was just a kiss,” he reiterated.
Then why was she shaking?
The hands he’d used to steady her now rubbed up and down her bare arms, settling her as if she was an overexcited mare about to be mounted by a stud.
“Okay?”
She nodded again because it was easier than speaking.
“Good.” He took her hand and led her back to where they had been standing before. Together they stood and watched the finale as the music built to an amazing crescendo.
His fingers intertwined with hers, his thumb rubbed along hers. She didn’t think she’d ever touched a person for as long as she was touching him.
But as soon as the music stopped and the curtain came down, he let go of her.
It was crazy, because she hadn’t even wanted to hold his hand in the first place, but the loss of it made her feel like he’d let her fall down a dark steep ravine.
*
MARK REINED IN his lust and waited for his daughter to join them in her dressing room. He thought of cold showers and kittens. He hated cats so this should be working. His erection had fortunately diminished but the part of his brain that wanted to throw JoJo down on the couch she was sitting on and take her like some crazed animal was still very much aroused. Watching her with her arms firmly crossed over her body in a gesture that said back off, desperately trying not to look at him, wasn’t helping, either.
It only made him want her more, which didn’t make a lot of sense.
Hell, it had been a kiss. Not a big deal. Just a kiss. A way to slowly ease her into the idea that they were going to be lovers. Because he truly believed that JoJo wanted to move on with her life and Mark believed that he could help her get over her irrational fear of sex.
He was being freaking altruistic in his attempt to seduce her!
Or he was being a colossal ass and the only thing driving him was his need to have her. Her, the woman he wasn’t supposed to want. Her, the woman who didn’t want to want him, but did anyway.
The door to the dressing room opened and Mark watched Sophie trying to back away from several musicians who were still congratulating her. He decided she was a little embarrassed by all the praise. When she finally got inside and closed the door, he heard an audible sigh and thought again how young his daughter was to handle the burden of carrying a live performance.
Which she had. She was unequivocally a star.
“Okay, please don’t say no until you hear me out.”
Mark didn’t have to be a parent for very long to know that when a conversation started like this, his natural inclination was going to be to say no.
“This should be interesting.”
“A few of the musicians are going out for a late dinner and they invited me along. I know you won’t let me go on my own….”
“See, you’ve already had the conversation.”
“But maybe you could come and just sit at another table. Please. It’s opening night and no tutoring tomorrow at all.”
Mark took in his daughter’s hopeful expression. He had no doubt that Bay was probably going to be included in the group. Maybe the kindest thing he could do for his daughter was to tell her no. After all, whatever crush she had for the kid wasn’t going to turn into anything. She was only setting herself up to get hurt.
“If you don’t want to because of the car thing I understand.” She was looking at JoJo when she said it, but JoJo raised her hands.
“Don’t put this on me, it’s his call.”
Mark looked at JoJo. “You’ll come with me so I don’t look like a dork sitting at a table by myself?”
She smiled, her first since the kiss, and even though Mark already knew what she was going to say before she said it, he was happy that some of the tension between them had finally diffused.
“I’ll come with you but I can’t really help with the dork part. You’re on your own there.”
Sophie gave a small fist-pump. “You guys are the best. Let me just change out of my dress and we can go.”
*
THE RESTAURANT OF choice was an Irish bar that didn’t pump glaringly loud music down on its patrons and offered a nice selection of beer and fried foods. The musicians had taken up a table for ten, although the number seemed to grow as people pulled chairs up as they came in at different intervals. Mark found a booth where he could watch Sophie, but was still far enough away to give her a sense of independence.
“You’re a good guy for letting her do this,” JoJo said over a loaded baked-potato skin.<
br />
“Good guy, or good dad?”
She seemed to consider that. “I’m going to say both this time. You can’t always bring the hammer. As we both know, I’m not the expert on great parenting, but I think letting her enjoy her success—especially with everything that’s going on—is a good thing.”
“Hmm,” he muttered as he checked out the table where Sophie was laughing particularly hard at something Bay had said.
“You know she called you Dad.”
Instantly he turned back to JoJo. “When?”
“When I was on the ground seeing stars after the car tossed me. She said to hold on, that Dad was coming.”
The thought of hearing that word from his daughter filled him with something he couldn’t name. It wasn’t that he necessarily minded her calling him Mark. After all, it was the only name he’d ever had. It was just that he knew why she did it, to remind herself of who he was in her life and who he wasn’t, and that was what hurt.
If for a second he could imagine her letting him into her life, all the way in, then he thought it was worth any price. Or maybe it was priceless.
“Don’t feel guilty that it only took me getting a mild concussion to bring out Sophie’s inner child. I’m cool with it.”
Mark smirked, sensing JoJo was teasing him, but it still didn’t detract from what had happened to her. Or the fact that she had an uncanny way of responding to this thoughts before he had a chance, or even a desire, to express them.
“I hate it that we still don’t have word on the car.”
“I told you, the detective said a witness got a partial on the plate. They’re just running down all the potentials. We’ll know something before we leave for Chicago.”
Which was Wednesday. Three more performances in Philadelphia, then everyone would fly to Chicago to become acclimated to the theater and open on Friday.
Three of the four performances scheduled there were already sold out. Sophie’s fame was nationwide.
Mark checked again on his daughter, who now had one hand on Bay’s arm—and was biting the nails of her other hand. Half woman, half girl. It didn’t take a genius to know it wasn’t going to get any easier to watch her with boys in the coming years.
His face must have given him away, as JoJo followed his gaze and turned.
“She’s practicing flirting. Leave her alone.”
“He likes her,” Mark said grimly. “I’m trying to believe the kid when he tells me nothing will happen, but I can see the way he looks at her. Like he’s a little dazzled by her. It’s not all one-sided.”
JoJo took a sip of her beer and Mark could see she wanted to say something but was holding back.
“What?”
“I have a theory. It’s a potentially crazy theory so you can tell me I’m nuts. But if we were just investigators working a case, not two people who are desperately trying to protect your daughter, we would consider every angle.”
Mark took a French fry from the plate he was sharing with JoJo, bit into it and motioned for her to go on.
“Something Bay said when we were talking about Sophie the other day. It’s like he’s hoping things work out between the two of you.”
“So? That’s a good thing, right? She likes him, she hates me, he’s rooting for me, she’s trying to impress him. I see win-win all the way around.”
“He said he was afraid you might lose her.”
Instantly the hair on the back of his neck rose, and his focus sharpened on Bay. The kid didn’t look like the type to send secretive notes. There was something so earnest about him. Even now, when he was blushing at all the attention Sophie was giving him—even though he was supposed to be the older and more mature person. She was pestering him for something, and Mark could see him reach into his back pocket. Bay handed Sophie a piece of gum and she made a show of swatting her hand in front of her face to tell him the buffalo wings had been too hot.
Bay was laughing and Mark could hear it from where he was sitting. He couldn’t put his head around the idea that the kid might be behind the notes.
“I don’t think so.”
“Hear me out,” JoJo said. “Maybe he was trying to help you. We know he’s been to your place at least once, so he knows where you live. We know he cares about Sophie, so there is motive. He spends most of his time with her during rehearsal breaks. Maybe he is trying to let you know that if things don’t change, you are going to lose her. A totally innocuous message that you took as a threat.”
“And the car that ran you down?”
“Another theory, but you had a better vantage point. I remember pushing Sophie away, but at any point did it look like the car tried to steer toward her? The sidewalk wasn’t that wide—if someone was intent on harming her, was I really that much of an obstacle?”
“You’re saying someone was out to get you instead?”
JoJo shrugged. “I know it sounds a little crazy. It could have been a drunk driver on the loose. But if it’s inside the realm of possibility that one of your old cases wants to get back at you, then I can promise you it is totally conceivable I could have pissed off someone who wants to hurt me. I might go so far as to say likely.”
“What? Someone who followed you to Philadelphia?” Mark shook his head. “I don’t buy it.”
“You don’t know the extent to which I have pissed people off. Look, I’m just saying we should consider the idea that the two incidents might not be related. Because, as crazy as it sounds, I don’t think that car was going to hit Sophie. What did you see?”
A car bouncing into other parked cars, a tinted window and JoJo and his daughter in potential danger. Nothing much after that registered, which was something he’d never experienced before. He’d been in dangerous situations. He’d been in life-threatening ones. But he’d never felt the haze of fear and panic that had completely overwhelmed him when he watched JoJo hit the hood of the car.
But she was right. Instead of continuing on a path toward Sophie, the car had turned sharply, which sent JoJo flying. Hitting someone, even if JoJo hadn’t been the target, could have frightened the driver enough to deter them from continuing on to hit Sophie.
Or had hitting JoJo been the goal?
Again Mark shook his head. “No, it’s too coincidental.”
“This isn’t the CIA. Everything is not a conspiracy plot.”
“Trust me, when you know what I know everything is a conspiracy. I’ll talk to the kid. I’ll ask him directly if he sent the notes and get a read on him. We’ll take it from there.”
JoJo nodded.
“You know, Sophie thinks we fit.”
He watched her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Not that she approves of anything happening with us. Because even at almost fifteen—that’s what I’m supposed to call her now you understand, not fourteen, but almost fifteen—she knows two people who work together shouldn’t have sex together.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re not two people having sex together.”
“Yet.”
She dropped the fried mozzarella stick she’d been dunking in sauce and glared at him.
“I told you it’s not going to happen.”
Yes, she did. Only he’d felt her respond to his kiss, felt her body melt against him, all loose and clingy. Her words, her piercings, her tats—all said back off. But there was a part of her daring him to scale that sharp fence to get to her. To touch the sweet part inside. The challenge was there. In the way she let him kiss her, in the way she kissed him back.
Like any good strategist, he backed off and tried another tactic.
“True, so maybe I should take Sophie’s other suggestion.”
“What was that?”
“To date Nancy.”
“Nancy?”
“Yeah. She’s not going to be Sophie’s tutor next semester. She seems nice, dare I say interested….”
“Nancy?”
This time the mozzarella stick, now dripping with red sauce, came flying right at
him.
Yeah, he knew it had been a risk to his shirt, but it was so worth it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I DON’T KNOW why you won’t let me pay for the dry cleaning.” JoJo whispered the words even though the music was peaking to a crescendo.
“I thought you said it was an accident,” Mark whispered as he leaned close to her so as not to be overheard.
“It was, but I should still pay for it.”
“Shh, this is the good part.”
It was the Sunday matinee performance and this time Mark had suggested they watch Sophie from front row seats. By now between rehearsals and performances she had seen and heard the performance many, many times and JoJo knew exactly where they were in the production. They were twenty minutes into the final number, which meant the show would be over in a few moments. Sophie wasn’t even playing at this point.
Mark was being intentionally stubborn by not letting her pay for what was an accident. Sort of.
Yes, his comment about dating Nancy had taken her off guard. And yes, something that might have felt like irrational jealousy temporarily overcame her. Which was why she threw the fried stick at him. Accidentally.
To clarify, JoJo was not that person. She wasn’t someone who became territorial over a man because she’d never thought about claiming a man. Or having a man. Or a man being hers. She was now, and had always been, completely independent. She wanted it to stay that way.
Nor was she someone who acted without thought. She liked to believe she was always in control of her actions. Except for that night when she had acted on instinct and he’d ended up with a shirt full of sauce and a mozzarella stick in his lap.
After he’d kissed her!
“Also,” she said softly with her lips close to his ear so she wouldn’t disturb the people sitting next to them—was that aftershave he was wearing? “You have to know I one hundred percent do not care if you want to date Nancy. In fact, I encourage it. Maybe if you make her your little life mission, I won’t have to find another job.”
“Okay, got it,” he whispered back. “You don’t care.”
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