Twisted(97)

To her mouth.

“Is it everything you were hoping for?” he murmured, and she had the feeling that he wasn’t only asking about the view. He was asking about them. About how it felt to have his hard, muscled chest against her breasts and his ropey arm holding her close. His heat surrounded her, chasing away the chill coming in off the bay. His lips were a fraction of an inch away, and if she inched upward, she’d be able to smell the scent of cherry cola on his breath.

“Better.” It was. So much better than she’d ever dreamed.

Lights twinkled to life in the early pink haze of dusk, and the sky glimmered with an endless canopy of microscopic stars. Gray tilted his head and eradicated the space between them, his intent clear.

The kiss she’d fantasized about for so long could be hers, and here of all places. She’d never dared to dream this big.

Yet all she could think was she would never have a mother again if she didn’t say no.

“Such a gorgeous view.” She whirled away to press her hands on the water-spattered balcony. She leaned forward again and this time he didn’t drag her back, just let her hang in the balance between the two lives she wanted with equal fervor.

The one where she was his sister.

And the one where she was his lover. His love.

“Jazz?”

She heard the uncertainty in the question, and it twisted another blade in her heart. How many nicks could one organ stand, she wondered, before it finally ceased to beat?

“I can’t believe you got a room so close to the bay. It must’ve cost a mint. We’ll have to rent bikes and ride them across. The tour guide I bought says—”

“Jazz. Look at me.”

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Because he would see that she wasn’t at all certain about the choice she had made, and then he would take the choice away.

She couldn’t say no to him twice. Not when he held the entire scope of her dreams in his hands, like a guitar only he knew how to play.

“Jazz.”

His hands touched her shoulders and she bowed her head, helpless to stop her babbling. She couldn’t let the silence fill in the rift she’d opened up between them, simply because she wanted too much. “We have to go to Fisherman’s Wharf. And oh God, the Art Institute. Did you know that—”

He turned her to face him and she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. So she did the one thing she always did when the world got to be too much. She burrowed her face against his chest and clung to his strong arms and hoped like hell he couldn’t feel the heat from her face through his T-shirt.

“It’s okay.” He rubbed his hand over her hair, his gentle touch finally making her realize that she was shaking hard enough to rock them both. “We’re okay.”

“I forgot my sunglasses,” she whispered, and he pulled her that much closer.

“No, you didn’t. I have them in my suitcase.”

Then she started to cry.





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Now



Jazz rolled her tube of gloss over her mouth and narrowed her eyes at her reflection. She’d just finished a quick shower and was on her way to meet Simon and Deak in the steam room for a pow-wow on “Echoes” and “Undertow”, their latest two finished songs.

Well, until the other guys got their hands on them. But at least they had good material to present to the team at Ripper Records. That might improve Lila’s mood regarding Gray’s substance issue, though she’d been remarkably composed when she left the cabin. Maybe things were finally looking up.

A girl could hope.

She dug through her purse and pulled out her birth control, biting her lip as she saw how many pills remained. She’d skipped a few days, what with everything going on. Truth be told, she often skipped a few days, because it wasn’t like she was regularly sexually active.

Until now.

It probably wasn’t a big thing to skip. As long as she caught up now, she’d be fine.

She swallowed her pills, chasing them with a bottle of water from the mini bar. Then she glanced at her watch and judged she’d have just enough time before she had to meet the guys.

Sitting on the bed, she pulled out her phone and tapped in the number she’d looked up online earlier. She felt vaguely seasick, but that wasn’t surprising. She hadn’t talked to Mrs. Duffy in years. She wasn’t exactly making contact now for a social call. At any rate, she refused to reveal too much. She owed her allegiance to Gray. No matter her reasons for taking this step, she wouldn’t violate his confidence.

The phone rang twice before Conchita picked up. Jazz smiled at the sound of the Duffys’ long-term housekeeper’s lightly accented, musical voice and asked to speak with Eileen without giving away her identity. Conchita pressed for it, but Jazz stayed firm that it was a surprise.