Not So Wrong: Love Grows series, Book Two

by Regent, Renee

  “I could get used to this. But burgers and beer are more my style, you know.”

  He smiled and poured the wine into two glasses.

  “I know, and I love a good burger and brew occasionally too. No reason we can’t have both types of food, is there?”

  What was I thinking? Just because he had money didn’t mean we were that different. Did it?

  “No. But you know, I don’t cook much. Been single too long, I guess.”

  “So have I. But I can cook, believe it or not.”

  He had come to stand next to me and leaned forward to place a kiss on my forehead.

  “Is there no end to this man’s talents?”

  He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “See? You get me. That’s what I’ve been telling everyone else, but they don’t believe me.”

  We spent the next half hour eating and talking. Getting to know one another. He asked about my family, and I gave him the abridged version. When I asked him about his family, his hazel eyes darkened a bit, the shadow of sadness settling on his handsome face.

  “I’ve never used the word orphan, but at seventeen, that’s what I became when my dad died. My mom had died when I was eleven, so when my father passed, his brother, Gibson’s dad, took me in.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss. That must’ve been hard.”

  He drank the last of his wine and set the glass on the counter. His smile had returned, albeit with a touch of regret around the edges of his mouth.

  “I was lucky they took me in. Dad and Uncle John had their differences, but family is family. They helped me to settle the estate, took care of the debts, and gave me a job. It all worked out.”

  His smile had faded, and I got the sense there was more he wanted to say. I didn’t want to pry and make him feel uncomfortable.

  After all, I knew what it was like to have secrets.

  Chapter Ten

  Spencer

  The next several hours we managed to actually get some work done in the music room. However, it was all I could do to concentrate on the task at hand. The urge to take Melanie again, to ravish her over and over, was growing stronger by the minute. She had changed into a tight tank top and cut-off denim shorts, which showed off her long legs. It wasn’t easy, but somehow, I managed to control myself.

  By the third run-through of the song, we had the lyrics down. It was time to commit my music to paper. I grabbed some sheet music and a pencil from the desk and sat on the piano bench. I played the notes for the opening, stopping to transcribe them. I continued on, stanza by stanza, and Melanie watched, leaning against the piano with an expression of fascination.

  “You make that look so easy. I can read music, but writing it? Not so much.”

  “It takes practice, like anything else. I always write my compositions, even if all they do is sit in a closet.”

  To demonstrate, I walked to a teakwood cabinet next to the sofa. I opened the double doors to reveal my binders—at least twelve of them—full of songs. Melanie’s mouth hung open at the sight.

  “What the hell? You’ve written binders full of songs?”

  I blinked. “Yes.”

  “You’re freaking prolific!”

  I shrugged. I had never shown anyone else my stash. Now I wasn’t sure if I should have shown her. Revealing it meant I really should do something with the material. Was I ready for that?

  She had walked over and was touching the binders, still in shock at the idea of me writing so many songs. Songs without lyrics but still original music.

  “I have even more on my laptop. I usually write them out by hand before I use my apps. And some of these were written many years ago, when I was a kid.”

  “This is…impressive.”

  “Some of them aren’t finished, and they all need lyrics. If I was going to do something with them, that is.”

  “Damn, Spencer. I had no idea. You really are a musician. I mean, in your soul.”

  Her dark eyes looked at me with awe, and I had never felt so exposed, not even when we were naked. I had hidden this part of my life for so long, revealing it now felt wrong.

  But nothing had ever felt so right as being with Melanie.

  I laughed off her comment, my cheeks heating with embarrassment.

  “Maybe. I love composing. Sharing it with the world, that has been the hard part for me.”

  “Maybe it’s time, Spencer. Maybe it’s time for you to show the world who you really are.”

  * * *

  Melanie

  “Dumbstruck” wasn’t a strong enough word for my surprise over how many songs Spencer had written. I knew he was good at composing, but this was a whole catalogue of music.

  The irony of his words had stunned me too. He had kept his talent with music private, choosing not to share it with the world. I had done the opposite—relentlessly performing and basking in the accolades. Yet we were both keeping our true selves hidden.

  Performing was addictive, like a drug—showing the world the best side of yourself, keeping the ugly, sad side locked away. Do it long enough, and one might begin to believe the sad side doesn’t exist.

  Was that what I had been doing all these years? Fooling myself into believing that my talent was enough to erase the past and carry the future?

  I closed Spencer’s cabinet doors. It was overwhelming to think of writing lyrics to all those songs, although the challenge was tempting. He now had a panicked look on his face, as though he regretted showing me his work.

  I placed a hand on his arm.

  “What you’ve done is impressive. But let’s focus on this one song, for now. We can always go back over those later, if you want.”

  Relief crossed his face, and he pulled me in for a kiss.

  “Thank you. I guess I’m nervous about showing anyone my work. Even Daris. He knows I play, but I never told him about my original compositions. I’ve never told anyone.”

  My hand went to his cheek, lightly brushing the stubble there. This was a strong, sensitive man. So different from the macho jerks I seemed to end up with.

  “I’m honored. Now, let’s get back to work.”

  It was going to be a long night, but I was happier than I had been in a long time. Perhaps it was the afterglow of our lovemaking, or the two glasses of wine I had, but peace had settled on me.

  It was a feeling I could get used to, even though I knew it wasn’t going to last.

  * * *

  Spencer

  The next morning, I woke with a start. It had been so long since I’d had anyone in my bed. I rolled over to spoon Melanie, her warmth a comfort. We’d been up well past midnight, working on the song. It was almost performance-ready, but neither one of us was completely satisfied yet.

  Or maybe that was an excuse to keep her here. In any case, I still had to go to work, at least for a few hours. Petro would be leaving for the conference in the morning and we had some loose ends to wrap up. I didn’t want to give Uncle John any more reasons to be pissed off with me.

  I moved her long, dark hair from her neck and kissed her ear. She snuggled back against me as I murmured, “Good morning, gorgeous. Sleep well?”

  She turned her face just enough to kiss me.

  “Yes, actually. Don’t you have to go to work?”

  “I do. But you can stay here, relax. Use the gym downstairs or the pool.”

  I left the bed and tossed her one of my robes. She sat up and stretched, looking sexier than ever with her hair a tousled mess.

  “As wonderful as that sounds, I still have some phone calls to make and some other business to take care of. Mind if I use your laptop?”

  “Not at all. I’d stay and make you breakfast, but I’d rather get work out of the way early and get back here so we can, uh, finish the song.”

  I gave her a wink, and her knowing smile made me tingle.

  “That’s okay, I’m not hungry. Plus, there’s food left from last night.” She moved closer, leaning in to whisper, “Yes, hurry back so we can f
inish.”

  Her suggestive tone and raised brows indicated she wanted to do much more than work on the song. The urge to stay and forget going to work was tempting, but I resisted.

  Twenty minutes later I kissed her goodbye at my door. It felt strange, leaving her here. I was used to living alone, but I liked the idea of her waiting here for me. Still, I didn’t want her to be bored, so I picked up my phone from the counter.

  “I’m texting you the number of my driver, Sean. If you need to go anywhere, he’ll pick you up downstairs.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll enjoy hanging out here. And I have my guitar.”

  “All right, then. Come here.”

  I needed one last kiss to sustain me while I was away. I was becoming addicted to her touch and would use any excuse to have her near.

  She fell into my arms, still sleepy-eyed and warm. The taste of coffee and cream was faint on her tongue as it tangled with mine. My body reacted instantly, heating my blood and stirring my erection back to life. If I didn’t pull back now, I was definitely going to be late for work.

  As though reading my mind, Melanie gently pushed me away. She gave my bottom lip a small bite as she released it, causing a spear of heat to my groin.

  “You’d better go now.”

  With one arm I pulled her to me abruptly, holding her there. She let out a squeak of surprise. I kissed her hard and then let her go.

  As I closed the door behind me, her frustrated sigh of desire echoed my own.

  * * *

  Melanie

  Damn. Doing the wild thing with Spencer hadn’t satisfied an itch, it had sparked a fire that was threatening to rage out of control. It had taken all my will power not to grab him by his blue silk tie and lead him back to the bedroom. But I knew he had to work, and I had things to do. We could explore this new side of our relationship later.

  Relationship? What was wrong with me?

  We were having fun while working on a project. Period. I’d done it many times before with musicians. Everyone gets excited working together in close quarters. Long hours and celebratory libations make for poor judgment, and the morning after usually brings regret or an awkward situation, at best. This just happened to be one of the more pleasant ones, but would that feeling last?

  As I turned on the water in Spencer’s walk-in shower, I attempted to talk myself out of my growing feelings for him. They were most inconvenient, given that I was not sticking around. And getting involved when we had a possible business deal going wasn’t smart. I knew better. Hadn’t I been burned before when I trusted people in the music business?

  But then he’d look at me with those honey-brown eyes, dark lashes, and dimpled face. His muscular arms would slide around me without warning, his rich-guy expensive cologne invading my nose like some sort of magic potion. Warmth would engulf me, and I’d become a quivering mess of a woman, helpless against the onslaught of rampant hormones.

  How did he evoke such a strong response in me?

  I leaned against the tiled wall, the water from multiple, strategically place shower heads sluicing over my body. An array of bath products lined a shelf, along with a sea sponge the size of a man’s fist. I chose a chai-scented body wash, squirted some onto the sponge, and began to wash myself. The hot water was soothing, and for a few moments, I imagined living in a place like this.

  It was a fantasy I’d had before, except now I could really imagine every detail. If I was a successful, famous performer, I’d live in a condo or home like this. Hell, it would even have a music room, like his. I’d have a wing for my mom and sister to live in with my niece and nephews. They could have their space, I’d have mine, and we’d be together when we wanted. It was the best of all possible worlds.

  When I stepped from the shower, the chill of the air made my fantasy disappear like steam. The reality was, such success wasn’t in the cards for me unless a miracle occurred. I didn’t want to put too much faith in this meeting with Daris because it may come to nothing. Better to play it safe, do my best, and see what happens.

  I wrapped my wet hair in a towel and put on Spencer’s robe again. In the bedroom, I picked up my phone from the nightstand to find three missed calls.

  My sister, Cissy. I hit the button to dial back, and in seconds, she answered. Her voice was pitched with anxiety.

  “Mellie, Mamma’s missing.”

  I sat on the bed, a rock forming in my stomach.

  “What do you mean, she’s missing?”

  “I pulled a double shift last night, so I got home late. I had a neighbor stay here to watch the kids, and she said Mamma was in her room, watching TV. So I let her sleep late this morning, not realizing she wasn’t even in her room. I don’t know when she left.”

  Cissy’s voice was warbling, near hysteria. I could hear the kids in the background, fearful, asking questions.

  “It will be okay, we’ll find her. Just stay calm.”

  I didn’t feel calm, but freaking out wouldn’t help. It was a few minutes past ten. She had only been gone a few hours at the most. Mamma’s signs of dementia had been sporadic up to this point. Her wandering away like this was not a good sign.

  “Should I call the police?”

  “Yes, as soon as we get off the phone. But they probably won’t do much more than take a report, maybe put out a Silver Alert. Had Mamma said anything, given you any warning about doing this?”

  “No. She’s been quiet the past few days, but she goes through those spells. Before she went to bed, she and our neighbor, Verlene, were talking about people they knew in common. It seemed to perk her up for a while.” Cissy’s voice broke on a sob. “I thought she was okay, she seemed happy.”

  I let her cry for a minute, talking her through it. When she calmed again, I took charge.

  “First, call your neighbors, and anyone else you know who might be home, and enlist their help in looking for her. She hasn’t driven in years. She didn’t take your car, right?”

  “No. She has to be on foot.”

  “So, she can’t have gone far. Once you get people looking for her, call the police and make a report. Let them know we think she may have the beginning of Alzheimer’s or dementia. Find some photos you can share with them and with the searchers.”

  “Okay. I can do that. Thank you, Mel. I wish you were here.”

  “I will be. As soon as I can pack a few things, I’m headed your way. Just call me right away if you hear anything.”

  “Will do.”

  She hung up with a promise to keep her cool, but I knew it wouldn’t be easy.

  My next call was Spencer’s driver, Sean. I needed my own car, and hopefully he was available to take me home.

  He was, and I had fifteen minutes to get ready. As upsetting as it was that my mother was missing, my gut feeling told me she was going to be found alive and unharmed. But there was no other option—I needed to be there.

  I was ready and in the elevator in twelve minutes, my hair still damp from the shower. I’d been so frantic and worried that I’d forgotten to call Spencer and let him know I was leaving. Disappointment settled over me like a heavy weight. I was going to miss the studio meeting with Daris.

  There goes your last chance. Figures.

  The elevator doors opened and I walked into the lobby. I’d left my guitar upstairs but had my overnight bag on my shoulder. I wasn’t sure when I’d return. It all depended on what happened in Florida.

  My misfortune was no reason for Spencer to miss out. He could still play our song for Daris and show him the video we recorded of me singing it last night. I decided not to tell him what happened until I was well on my way to Florida, so he wouldn’t insist on going with me or putting me on his private jet or some such thing. It might be a bit faster travel but I needed to handle this alone.

  My phone buzzed in my purse, causing my heart to leap. It was Spencer, who must have sensed I was thinking of him. Damn.

  His text message included a winky kissing face.

  Hey
, sexy. Miss you already.

  Aww. I missed him too. And now we’d be missing out on round two in bed. I texted back just as the limo pulled up outside.

  I miss you too. XXXOOO

  It gave away nothing but wasn’t a lie.

  Sean entered the lobby and greeted me, taking my bag.

  “Where to, Miss Melanie?”

  “Take me home, please.”

  His face was passive but for a slightly tensed jaw. Something in my voice must have betrayed my anxiety, which spiked even higher when my phone buzzed with another text.

  Be home soon. Almost done here.

  I texted back “OK” with a red heart.

  It should have been the broken heart emoji.

  Chapter Eleven

  Spencer

  I’d been delayed by a conference call with my uncle. Negotiations weren’t going well, and he needed me to make some phone calls on his behalf and see that he got the documentation he needed. Petro had left early to prepare for the trip, so I had to handle some things myself. Thus, it was almost two pm when I arrived home.

  I hadn’t called or texted in a few hours, wanting to give Melanie some alone time. But I was about to be all over her as soon as I walked through the door. Anticipation of finishing what we’d started that morning had me tingling in all the right places. As I opened the door, I called out to let her know I was home.

  “Hey, sweet thing, where are you?”

  My voice echoed oddly through the house. She must be in the music room or the bathroom. I walked down the hall, calling her name. No answer.

  Not in the bathroom. I opened the door to the music room and spotted her guitar still in its open case. A thorough check of every room confirmed I was alone.