“Oh my God,” she says quietly, her eyes round as two tennis balls.
“Hi,” I say.
“What am I doing here?” she squeaks.
“Um, I was hoping you could tell me that,” I respond, trying to figure out if she’s serious.
“Oh my God,” she repeats. She starts to sit up, and I sit up along with her. Then she brings her knees up and puts her hands over her face, muttering, “This can’t be happening.”
I gently rub her back. “Mel? What’s going on here? I swear to you, I don’t remember anything after I went to bed—alone, I might add.”
She finally puts her hands down and turns to look at me. “I sleepwalk.”
I laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.” She sniffs like she might cry. “Ever since I was a little kid. I haven’t done it in years, but I used to all the time, even when I was a teenager. I’d get up in the middle of the night and go into other rooms in the house and go back to sleep. Usually Tammy’s. She got so used to it she didn’t even wake up when I climbed in bed with her. My parents talked about locking me in my room at night because they were afraid I’d hurt myself, but after a while, everyone saw that I never went anywhere but to Tammy’s room or the sofa in the den, so they quit worrying about it.”
I laugh. “Well, maybe you were looking for Tammy last night and got confused. I would have liked to see the look on Walsh’s face when he woke up in bed with both of you.” It’s an image I’m having trouble banishing from my own mind now. I’m generally happy with one woman at a time, but damn, the DiLorenzo sisters together? Jesus.
Mel buries her face in her hands again. “I’m so embarrassed,” she cries into her palms.
I lean over and give her a one-armed hug. “Don’t be. It’s fine. It obviously didn’t bother me. And I got to tell you, if I’m going to wake up with a surprise guest in my bed, I’d pick you any time.”
She looks up at me then, and the absurdity of her sleepwalking falls away. It’s just her and me on a bed, and her hair is tousled, her camisole is thin, and she’s not wearing a bra underneath. I look at her shining, sleepy eyes and her full lips that are so very kissable.
“Mel,” I rasp out. “If you don’t get out of here right now I’m going to kiss you again.”
She blinks once, twice, then sighs. “Going,” she whispers as she slips off the bed and over to the door. She looks back at me once before she quietly turns the doorknob and tiptoes out.
After Mel leaves, I know it will be a while before I can face the busload of people outside my door. I lie back down, just relishing the memory of her warm weight on me in my bed. The scent of lemon pie lingers on my pillow, and I bury my face in it, remembering the look in her eyes when I threatened to kiss her. Last night I was ready to give up, to try to walk away even though I know deep inside she’s meant to be mine.
But after this morning’s stunt, there’s no way I’m backing down. It could be a fluke that she sleepwalked to my room, but I don’t think so. I think her subconscious craves me as much as I crave her. Somewhere in there, past the bullshit her sister’s fed her, past whatever wrongheaded notions she has about me and who I am, she knows too. We’re meant to try this thing out. Something in her calls to something in me.
The door to my room snicks open, and I’m really glad I decided to sleep in boxers for once. My room is Grand Central damn Station. I roll over to see who the hell it is this time and find Tammy standing there, arms crossed, on the offensive already. I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Her eyes shift to my bare chest and then back up quickly. I can’t help but smirk. I hope I make her uncomfortable. Teach her to walk into my bedroom unannounced.
“Can I help you, Tammy?” I say as sarcastically as possible while I stand and start to pull on a pair of jeans from the floor. She works really damn hard at not watching me.
“Tell me I did not see my sister leaving your bedroom in her pajamas about five minutes ago?”
“I could tell you that, but it would be a lie,” I answer her, standing now. My jeans are on but not buttoned because I want to see her fucking sweat, and the more exposed I am, the more she will be.
“God, you’re not going to leave it alone, are you?” she hisses.
“Where is Walsh?” I deflect. “Don’t you think he’s going to wonder what you’re doing in my bedroom? After everything we’ve been through, let’s not have him catch you now.”
“He’s eating breakfast up front with Colin. He’s not going to catch us, and we’re not doing anything wrong anyway. I’m trying to have a conversation with you about my sister.”
“Really? Because I get the feeling you’re actually trying to have a conversation about you and me. The same conversation I tried to have with you dozens of fucking times over the last year.” I sit back down on the bed and lean up against the wall, feigning indifference to her and the discussion.
“You want to have that conversation, Joss? Do you really? Okay, here it is. If he ever found out, it would kill him. And I love Walsh. No one but him.”
“I know you do,” I answer quietly.
“And you used to also,” she says, sadness oozing from her voice.
“Yeah, I still do. “
“Then there’s nothing else to say about it, but this shit between you and Mel has got to stop. Don’t ruin her life too. Please.”
She really looks desperate, and I realize she genuinely believes I’m only chasing her sister to get back at her.
“Tammy. This thing with Mel—it has nothing to do with you and me. Why can’t you believe that?”
She shakes her head and sighs. “Even if it doesn’t, Joss, you just can’t. You can’t drag her into our lives. We’re a mess. We’re tainted, in this never-ending snarl together. I don’t want her tangled up with us. Can’t you see that? She’s special. Don’t do this.”
It’s almost enough to sway me—the despair in her voice, the love she obviously feels for her sister—but then I remember how she’s treated me this last year. I’ve been her whipping boy in so many ways, and I’m not fucking doing it again. It’s as if she’s the only one who was hurt by it. As if I don’t feel every bit as guilty or torn to pieces. It’s been slowly eating me alive for months, but in her mind, I’m the one to blame.
“No.” It comes out harsh and cold, but I don’t even care. “I’ve made all the noble gestures for you I’m going to. I won’t let you make me the bad guy yet again. You’ve got Walsh, he’s sober, and you’re in love. Go enjoy your life, Tammy. But leave mine the hell alone.”
Her eyes narrow, and I can feel the anger rolling off of her in waves. It’s hard to remember that there was a time when she was one of my best friends, someone I thought of as family. Her voice is guttural when she answers me. “I fucking hate you, Joss Jamison. You hear me? I hate you. You’re a bastard, and I will not let you take my sister from me.”
My voice is colder than I’ve ever heard it. “Get out.”
The whole bus shakes when she slams the door.
Chapter Twenty
Mel
We arrive in Denver and everyone collapses after two straight days on the road. It’s mid-June, the weather is gorgeous, and the Rocky Mountains rising above the city are still capped in snow.
I’ve had a nap and I’m typing up some notes on the concert for the next night when there’s a knock on my door. “Come in!” I yell from the desk where I’m working.
“Come in?” a deep, velvety voice rumbles through my room. “Are you serious? You’re in a strange hotel room all alone and you leave the door unlocked and just invite in anyone who knocks?”
I look up from my laptop then give him a scowl. “Joss. I’m on a floor only used by your band and crew, with security guys stationed at the elevators and the stairwells. Seriously, how much safer can I get?”
He walks across the room, stopping when he reaches me, and looks down. He’s tall and I’m sitting. It’s a long way up a lean, muscled torso to meet his serious gaze. I can’t help but notice that the deep green t-shirt he’s wearing is tight in all the right spots. I’m only human.
“No security is foolproof. My lawyer’s got the photos of groupies who snuck past my security to prove it. Please don’t leave your hotel room door unlocked again.”
I roll my eyes and turn back to the screen. “What do you need?”
“You and your camera,” he declares.
“What?”
“Grab your camera. We’re going on a fieldtrip and you’re going to get exclusive pictures for the project.”
I look at him skeptically but stand up. He doesn’t move back and now I’m chest to chest with him, my pulse racing. I can hear him breathing rapidly, but then he gives me a little smile. “Meet me in the lobby in ten.” And he’s gone.
When I walk out of my room a few minutes later, one of the security guys is standing right outside my door. “Good afternoon, Miss DiLorenzo,” he says politely.