For One Night Only (3 page)
‘A ticket is not a problem,’ he assured her, ‘but how will you get there?’
She told him that her sister had flown, but if she left early the next morning she should be able to make the drive to LA in good time. Ruben excused himself abruptly, returning seconds later after a brief conversation with Byron.
‘
Her mouth fell open. Knowing she looked stupid, she tried to regain her composure and began to shake her head.
Ruben cut her off before she could voice a protest. ‘But it would be foolish for you to say no. We are both attending the same event in the same city tomorrow night. Why would you possibly want to travel alone?’
‘Well…I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘I wouldn’t want to impose.’ Her stomach plunged at the thought of spending any more time with him.
‘If you knew me better,
Standing, he reached down and pulled her to her feet. The warmth of his hand drew the last of the resistance from her and she nodded in agreement, finding her voice finally to thank him. He held her eyes and her hand for a moment longer before taking a step away from her.
‘Now, I must go. Byron will give you the details. I think we fly out in a couple of hours,’ he said, looking to him for agreement. He gave her a warm smile before walking her to the door. ‘I look forward to seeing you again,
* * * *
Ruben ignored the look of amazement Byron was leveling at him. Hell, he didn’t know why he wanted to spend more time with her, he just did. And he wasn’t about to take a couple of hours of ribbing from Byron about it. Luckily, his friend knew when to leave him alone. Byron hardly had the time to interrogate him anyway as he flew in and out of the room in his usual frenzied fashion.
Ruben had spotted her in the crowd earlier. Correction—the first thing he had noticed was the space next to her. An empty front row seat at one of his gigs was unheard of and he’d been pissed at first. But watching her let go and enjoy the show soon made him forget his annoyance.
It had taken him a moment to recognize her. It turned out that the severe bun she had worn earlier hid a mane of shoulder length curls. His attention had been drawn back to her a couple of times, but he got as lost in the performance as the crowd did
. You had to love performing to be able to do it. Singing the same songs over and over again, night after night, would drive you crazy otherwise. The only thing that made the loss of privacy and personal life worth the sacrifice was the high you got from being onstage and feeling the love of thousands of people coming at you.
The money was a huge bonus too, but the kick of being rich beyond his wildest dreams had worn off pretty quickly.
She’d looked damn good in those jeans too…maybe he’d get to help her out of them sometime soon?
Ruben knew that she wouldn’t be easy. He’d seen enough besotted fans and hard faced groupies to know. Hell, he could open the door now and ease the sexual tension she had caused, but he’d long since gotten bored with that. Sure, he still succumbed occasionally—there were some gorgeous women out there and he was a man after all. Just after a show was a prime time for him. If there was somebody available who’d sparked his interest, they often got the benefit of the adrenaline he’d built up onstage.
He hadn’t always been proud of the way he treated women. For many years, the memory of his parents’ turbulent relationship influenced his behavior. He’d been callous and cruel at times. Ironically, it was becoming famous that had changed his attitude. Confronted by hordes of women on a daily basis, he had seen many sides to their personalities. There were the sexually confident types who sent him silent signals with their eyes and innocent teenagers who would stare at him in mute infatuation. Then there were the older women. They were the ones that had really affected him. Somewhere, underneath the layers of cynicism they had built up over the years, he could still see the romantic hopes of their youth, shining bright in their eyes.
At first, it had all seemed like a huge responsibility, but he had soon come to realize that it wasn’t really about him. He was nothing more than a focus for their hopes and desires. And as long as they didn’t expect anything from him—and nobody got hurt—well, he didn’t really mind if they fantasized over him.
It seemed everything in his life had always been about sex. Sex sold the records, and sex sold his image. The main interest in him usually turned out to be sexual. He’d gotten used to keeping people at arm’s length, allowing them to believe what they wanted. And now, it had become a habit. One he needed to break.
At thirty-two years old, he wasn’t getting any younger. He wondered if his recent obsessing about why he was still alone after all this time had anything to do with his interest in
Jumping into the shower, he cursed the fact that he wasn’t alone. A few minutes to relieve the tension building in his groin were what he needed. Peeking out into the dressing room, he wondered if there was time. The question was answered for him as the door opened again. Turning quickly to face the wall, Ruben hid his hard-on from the all-seeing eyes of his manager. Byron gave him a look that spoke volumes, making it clear as usual that he knew what was going on.
‘I’ll be back in five minutes,’ he drawled, rolling his eyes dramatically. Turning on his heel Byron left the room, closing the door behind him.
* * * *
The Fan was numb. Arousal pulsed through her, fogging her brain, making her feel slightly sick. Others around her began to scream, but she couldn’t make a sound. Ruben paused at the stage door, smiling and flirting while signing autographs for those who seemed to think having his name on a piece of paper meant something.
Forcing herself to move back, away from the man she loved, she slipped further into the crowd, watching him. His eyes caught her movement and he smiled without recognition. Every part of her being wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg him to remember her, to remember what they had and give it back to her and make her whole again. She couldn’t do that, could never do that. Her reward would be sweeter if she could just wait for the right time.
Moments later he was gone, guided into the waiting limo by his ever-present bodyguard, Albert. She knew his staff well—as did all the fans—but for a different reason than most. Studying their habits and knowing the way they worked had become vital to her. The clues on Ruben’s plans or whereabouts she had gotten from watching his staff had been invaluable. Albert was a big Cockney bruiser and the easiest one to watch for, his nearly seven-foot height, baldhead and battle scarred face made him impossible to miss anywhere. Many of the other women flirted with Albert, seeing him as a way to get nearer to the ultimate prize. Too much of a brute for her tastes, she wondered how far some of them were prepared to go. He was a thug from
Hands suddenly pulled at her, hands she resisted before realizing they were Martha’s and allowed them to drag her into the waiting taxi. She knew, without asking, where they were going. Fans often arrived at the airport before Ruben, amazing him when he spotted ones he knew he had seen only minutes earlier. The address Martha gave the driver surprised her. He wasn’t flying out of McCarran.
airport was very quiet and they had no trouble working their way through to the departure lounges to wait and watch for Ruben. It didn’t surprise her to find that they were not the only ones who had figured out his plans. Twenty or so women of all ages and sizes stood in clusters, necks craning around every few seconds, searching every new face. Excusing herself to the bathroom, she had to ignore Martha’s protests that she would miss all the excitement. She couldn’t hide under the glaring lights and didn’t want to risk being noticed—if that happened now, all her work would be for nothing.
Wandering around the restroom, she paused to fix her hair and touched up her face, killing time while she waited. Martha wouldn’t give up a prime location to look for her, so she had no need to hide as she listened for the telltale signs he had arrived.
She hadn’t waited long when she heard the screams and shouts through the door about five minutes later. Peering around a corner, she saw his small entourage pass by without stopping. He smiled and waved, but kept moving. Watching carefully, she waited until he had gone through the doors before running to Martha, feigning disappointment at missing him. The woman looked at her like she was crazy, but didn’t question further, redirecting their attention to the window that would be the best to watch him board.
Minutes later, the crowd began to disperse, excitement over as he disappeared into the small, private jet. But she didn’t move, attention riveted on a tall, slim brunette making her way sheepishly towards the plane. She didn’t recognize the woman. If it was a fan, it was a new and audacious one.
Her pulse quickened as she saw Albert’s giant frame lumber down the steps towards the woman who wisely took a couple of steps backward. Smiling, she waited for the inevitable, expecting the ill-mannered thug to treat this fan as he did all others, typically bundling them away. Confused, she watched him call her forward before pointing up the steps. She felt her stomach lurch as she realized the woman was more than a fan and would be joining Ruben.
Who was she?
Certainly not his girlfriend. Ruben didn’t go for that type; she knew that better than anyone. There had been no sign of her elsewhere on the tour and no mention of any new girlfriend on the fan grapevine. Staring at the door, she willed the woman to reappear. Martha approached but she ignored her, no longer worried if her companion found her behavior strange.
Come out, come out,
she begged silently.
Her eyes began to water, the effort of trying to see through the darkness and into the jet straining them. The door closed suddenly, shutting her out of his life once more. She punched the glass in frustration, over and over, screaming in absolute rage. Blood from her damaged knuckles smeared the glass. Martha’s gasp of fear shocked her back to reality as the pain began to register. She stopped suddenly, sucking in ragged breaths, attempting to calm the pounding in her head before daring a look at her companion.
The woman looked scared and stepped back quickly, cowering away from her just as a security guard arrived, asking what was going on. A cold calm had descended by the time she turned to reassure them both, plastering a smile on her face. Neither looked convinced by her explanation that it was just disappointment at missing him that had caused the outburst.
The guard reached for her hand, intent on helping her it seemed. Screaming that he should fuck off and mind his own business, she turned away, refusing his offer of medical attention. Wanting nothing more than to be out of the airport, she walked toward the exit hearing Martha fall into step behind her.
She kept quiet, unable to trust herself not to give too much away. She had to be more careful. Her insides were in turmoil and she was desperate to be alone. Walking away from Martha, she ignored the woman’s calls as she jumped into a taxi and left her standing on the sidewalk.
boarded the plane shyly. After changing her mind a million times, she was finally there. The thought that she shouldn’t bitch about her life if she wasn’t prepared to grab an opportunity like this had been the decider. Ok, so she knew why she was there, but what was in it for him? It wasn’t in her nature to throw caution to the wind and she would be much happier once she had a handle on what was going down.
Ruben was already seated and looked up as she entered. Smiling, he gestured that she should take the opposite seat. Wondering if she looked as terrified as she felt, she sat down quickly. She had dressed casually in clean jeans and a sweater, the result of a good hour spent debating what she should wear. Not wanting to give the wrong impression
—
or maybe the right one—she had settled for low-key, but now she felt distinctly under dressed in the elegant décor of the plane’s interior. Beige and gray leather covered every surface that wasn’t already veneered in limed oak or covered in plush carpet.
‘Ready for a wild ride?’ he asked. Her eyes flashed quickly to his. Unsure if the double-entendre was intentional; she chose to ignore it and smiled at him benignly. She felt him watching her as she fumbled with the seat belt. The urge to fill the static silence with inane babble was overwhelming and she succumbed quickly.