Lead (20 page)

“All of it.” He took another swig of beer.

Well, now this interested me. I sat forward, leaning my elbows on the table of the booth we were sharing. “You must tell me all. Leave out no details.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “They’d kill me.”

“If you’re not willing to sacrifice yourself to sate my curiosity, what use are you?”

He shook his head, eyes shining. Such a pretty man, not drop-dead gorgeous like Jimmy, but then, who was? I myself was no top model and yet Dean shuffled a little closer, his warm smile never fading. Now and then, his gaze dropped to the mounds of my breasts. I could forgive him that, in fact, I even kind of liked it. To be appreciated as an actual female was a fine sensation, one I hadn’t had in quite this way for a while.

“I can tell you about the time he invited a couple of girls on stage in Rome about five years back. That one’s pretty much public knowledge anyway,” he said.

I gasped in true shock horror fashion. Gossip was the worst. “I remember hearing rumors about that.”

“Jimmy’d been drinking heavily, they all did back then. At first it was cool, the girls were just hanging off him while he performed. But then during Dave’s guitar solo the three of them start making out. One of the girl’s gets her hand down Jimmy’s pants while the other’s undoing his belt buckle and going for the zipper. Jim’s laughing his ass off, doesn’t care. Security went on stage and stopped them, but the cops shut the show down due to indecent exposure. Fined him a shitload of money over it.”

“Wow.”

“Lucky no one got a clear picture.”

“Very.”

Dean slowly shook his head, admiration shining in his eyes. “Jimmy was one hell of a guy back in the day.”

I frowned. “He was out of control, hurting himself.”

“Yeah. That too.”

“I think I prefer the man he is today.”

“Of course,” Dean said quickly. “Absolutely.”

“You were never tempted to pick up a guitar or some other instrument and get out on stage yourself?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I’m no Jimmy Ferris. Crowds scare the crap out of me. All those people staring at you, gives me the chills.” He mock-shivered in demonstration.

I laughed. “No, it doesn’t really appeal to me either.”

“Yeah. But those guys, they’re made for it. Especially Jim. The man’s a living legend.”

I nodded in agreement. Then the most shitty, horrible thought descended upon me and I couldn’t shake it. “Oh god, he isn’t paying you to take me out tonight, is he?”

“What? Fuck no, of course not.” Dean reared back. “Why would you even think that?”

My forehead met the table, dark hair falling around me in a curtain to hide my idiocy. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you’d prostitute yourself for my benefit.”

“Lena?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Lena, look at me.”

A hand gently applied pressure beneath my chin, encouraging me to rise. His eyes were so wonderfully green you almost had to wonder if they were contacts. Not that it mattered, I was just grateful they weren’t ice blue. Also Dean’s face was wider than Jimmy’s, less sculpted. He wasn’t as tall, but he was looking at me as if he liked what he saw, like I met his criteria, whatever that might be. No disdain, no impatience. It was refreshing.

“Hey,” I murmured. “So, let’s just forget that I asked that.”

Ever so carefully, he tucked my hair back behind my ears, just like Jimmy had earlier. The contact was surprising, but I held still, letting Dean get closer, curious as to where this might go.

“I like to embarrass myself horribly now and then,” I said. “It keeps life interesting.”

“Right, I’ll bear that in mind.” He smiled. “I think what we have here is an opportunity to have some fun. So, with that in mind, you feel like going dancing with me, Miss Morrissey?”

My smile might have been slow, but it was wholly genuine. “I’d like that.”

# # #

Dean walked me to my car close to midnight. By “my car,” I meant Jimmy’s, of course. Dean took one long look at the shiny overpriced vehicle and said a whole lot of nothing.

”Jimmy insisted I take it,” I said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “He worries about me driving in the rain. I tried to say no, but….”

Dean just nodded.

“Yeah, anyway.” I needed to shut up. Talk about protesting too much.

The sweat on the back of my neck from dancing gave me goose pimples out in the cold night air and my body felt pleasantly worn out, my brain ambling toward sleep. I’d have to wake up to drive home. If I put a scratch on his car, Jimmy would kill me.

“I had a really good night,” I said, offering Dean my hand.

With a grin, he took it, tugging me gently in toward him. His lips touched mine. Warm lips, warm breath, warm everything, and his face was so close. I didn’t close my eyes, I guess I was a little stunned. The moment had crept up on me, silly but true. Good god, his eyelashes were really long. Also, I’d never kissed anyone with a lip ring before. Metal pressed against the side of my mouth, it was a weird sensation.

He stepped back and smiled. “I’d like to do this again.”

“I’d like that too.” And I meant it, we’d had a great night.

He slid his hands into his jeans pockets.

“I’ll see you later.” I fossicked in my purse for the keys. “’Night.”

Once I was safely inside he leaned down, waved. I waved back. Then he stood on the pavement, waiting until I drove away smiling.

Tonight had been so much better, there was really no comparison. A date with a nice, intelligent man who surprised me with a soft kiss at the end. It was sweet. You didn’t need to find someone who turned your world on its axis to be happy; inner body explosions and mini-heart attacks were not necessarily the answer to long-term joy. But this warmth, contentment, it was nice.

Jimmy would be pleased.

We were halfway around the block the next morning when Jimmy pulled to a halt, his breath coming in harsh pants. No, all right, that was me. Jimmy wasn’t even breathing heavy despite jogging having split me inside somehow. It couldn’t be healthy. Though I’d made it further before falling apart then yesterday. Progress was a slow, gradual, agonizing thing.

“You got in late last night.” He bent at the waist, stretching.

“Yeah, we went dancing.” No wonder my calves were being so unforgiving this morning.

Jimmy made some noise. I don’t know what it meant.

When I’d called mid-date to check in on him, he’d said something about messing around with a guitar. The conversation had been curt. Basically he’d reported that he was fine, told me to get back to my date, and then hung up on me. A normal sort of phone conversation where he was concerned.

He straightened. “Thought about what you said, about me dating.”

I tried to keep my surprise off my face. “And?”

Apparently the trees down the street were riveting because his gaze stayed glued to them. “Called an old friend. She, ah … she got sober recently too, went through rehab. We talked for a while. She’s thinking of coming up from LA so we can catch up.”

“Jimmy that’s great.” I tried to smile. Honest to goodness, I gave it my all, but my face felt stiff, wrong.

Catch up
could mean so many things. To my twisted mind, catching up rock-star style had everything to do with copulation and nothing to do with cake and coffee with friends. This was, after all, Jimmy Ferris we were talking about. His abstinence had always surprised me. He was such a big moody animal prowling about the house, snapping and snarling. All too easily, my mind provided lurid images of him sinking his teeth into someone, tongue licking, nails scratching. Oh, god, now I was panting for an entirely different reason. My filthy mind was out of control.

He’d said he only touched when he fucked. I bet this old friend of his would have finger marks all over her inside of a day, lucky girl. And to think it had been my bright-ass idea.

God, I hated me.

“Great,” I said, trying to conjure up mental images of Dean. So cute and sweet and stuff, so much more within my reach. He didn’t have heartbreak written all over him the way Jimmy did. There was no need for a warning sign on his handsome forehead.

“Yeah.” At long last he looked my way and I hid my misery as best I could. “Listen, Lena. I am sorry I was an asshole when you bought it up, guess you caught me off guard.”

“You’re apologizing to me?”

He did the chin jerk thing.

“Wow.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered.

“No. No, okay. Can you just say it one more time for me?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Don’t do it again or I’ll kick your ass into next week.”

“You’re about half my size.”

“Ah, but I’m highly motivated and own a fine selection of pointy-toed boots. Consider yourself warned.”

“Right,” he said, voice somewhere between wary and amused. Little did he know exactly how serious I was. Some of those boots could do real damage on the feet of a woman with a grudge.

Then he stepped closer, inspecting the general area of my mouth.

“What?” I asked, half tempted to cover my face with my hand.

“You’ve got a bit of beard rash.”

“Oh.” I scrubbed at my lips, not that it would do anything apart from making it worse. Guilty feelings slunk around inside me for some reason, like kissing on the first date was a crime. It had all happened so fast. Dean stepped into me and his lips were on mine and I let him. That was the truth of it, all feelings for Jimmy aside, I’d let Dean kiss me. He didn’t make it to second base.

“How was it?” he asked, still standing much closer than necessary, still staring at my lips. Fear of the foreign look in his eyes held me immobile. Exactly what he was asking after, I didn’t want to know. And if I didn’t ask, I could pretend he meant the food last night or something equally harmless like the weather.

“It was … nice,” I said.

“Nice,” he said, voice low and mesmerizing. “You liked it.”

I shrugged, committing in any other way felt dangerous somehow.

“How far did you let him go?” His gaze roamed over my neck, my chest, and everywhere he looked I lit up, sweaty, disheveled, and smelly as I was. When he looked at me that way, it didn’t matter. It took all of my restraint not to cross my arms over my chest. I could only hope my sweatshirt was thick and baggy enough to hide any evidence of arousal. My nipples’ ongoing infatuation with the man was a terrible misguided thing.

“W-what?” I asked.

“Under your clothes or over?”

“I’m not telling you that.”

“I’m thinking over,” he mused. “You don’t strike me as the type to give it away too soon.”

I pushed back my shoulders, stood straight. “You’re right, Jimmy, I’m a pure shining virgin. My ability to keep my knees locked tight is an inspiration to all. Now can we please stop talking about this?”

“You’re uncomfortable?”

“Oh, like that’s not your goal here.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “What can I say? You interest me, not many do.”

“That’s great and I feel all warm and tingly about it. But I’m still not telling you what goes on between me and another man.” I got my legs moving again, the stumbling gait of what passed for me jogging. Such style. Such grace.

A moment later, he fell into step beside me. As always, his long legs and fitness levels made a mockery of my huffing and puffing.

“C’mon, Lena. You can’t let me live a little vicariously through you?”

“Nope.”

“Aren’t you impressed I even know the word, a high school dropout like me?” He chuckled, but he didn’t sound exactly happy about it.

“No.”

He gave me a cynical smile. “Right.”

“With everything you’ve accomplished in your life, you think I’d doubt your drive or intelligence?”

“All the drugs and shit you mean? Yeah, I accomplished a fuck load of that.”

“You’re a successful businessman and a seasoned, multi-award-winning, critically acclaimed musician,” I countered. “Shock horror, you made some mistakes. Who the hell hasn’t? You paid for them and moved on.”

His eyes narrowed. “That what you really think of me?”

“Yes. You also have a sad tendency to be an occasional jerk but we’re working on that. I have great hopes for your complete recovery.”

The rigid set of his jaw let me know he wasn’t convinced. Insecurity over his education obviously ran deep.

“It’s not like I went to college,” I said. “I didn’t do well enough to get a scholarship. A friend’s dad owned a business and he gave me a chance to try out as the receptionist, lucky for me. Otherwise, I’d probably be flipping burgers for the next fifty years.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

We ran for a while in silence. But of course, he couldn’t leave it alone, could he?

“So, tell me what constitutes a good first date, Lena? You know about this sort of shit. Teach me, how do you woo a girl, hmm?”

“Can’t talk. Jogging.”

He snorted.

Neither of us spoke for half a block and just as well. Conversation with Jimmy was hazardous to my health. The man really did need to come with a big red warning sticker on his forehead. Actually, the sticker should cover all of his face. If you only had to deal with his hot body you might stand a chance resisting. Oh, and his voice—good god, his voice—it was created to make a girl’s sex parts sing. Not that I wanted to think about sex or singing or Jimmy, nor any lustful and passionate variation of all three combined.

My mind, however, was clearly against me.

“You know, I think I’m improving,” I said eventually. My need to fill silences was a definite weakness. “I’m not getting winded so easily.”

“Good. So you’re going out with him again?”

“Are we still talking about this?”

“Yes. Why’re you giving him a second date?”

I groaned. “Because he was nice.”

“You’re sure using that word a lot. Nice. He’s
nice
. You had a
nice
time. I don’t think any woman’s ever used that word when it comes to me.”

I peeled wet strands of hair from my cheek. “You can be nice when it suits you.”