Love's Road Home (10 page)

"All right. We definitely don’t want any equipment malfunctions when we’re on." He leaned down for a final kiss. "Go make us look good."

Beth walked away, moving back toward the auditorium. But he still heard her parting comment. "
Hmmph
. You do that just fine on your own."

A huge smile spread across Tom’s face as he headed toward the makeshift mess area down the hall.

•

There were five good-looking guys on the stage six rows in front of her, but the girl’s attention unwaveringly remained on only one of them. Tom Crowley. Her soul mate.

He was everything she could ever want. Handsome, gifted, and above all, sweet. She’d known he would be, but meeting him the other night in
Jacksonville
had definitely confirmed her beliefs.

His smile had made her all warm inside, and the way he’d signed her concert program solidified her notion that he was just as enamored with her. "Happy to meet you." It seemed like a simple generic greeting at first glance, but she understood the hidden meaning behind it.

She knew that Tom, nice guy that he was, wouldn’t want to come on too strong with her at their first meeting. Even though he felt all the urges that she did, and he knew they were meant to be together, Tom wouldn’t rush things. He would woo her slowly and steadily, showing his appreciation of her devotion by singing to her and buying her sweet little tokens of affection.

Knowing Tom was a struggling musician, she didn’t expect, or want, extravagant gifts from him. She had no interest in his moneymaking potential. She had enough money to support both of them.

And that was one reason to be thankful to her parents. The only reason, actually. Harold and Edith
Sommersby
were definitely not your run-of-the-mill parents. Having inherited a fortune from his father, in addition to making millions more dollars through his own corporation, Harold was not a man to sit around letting life pass him by.

No, right now her parents were touring Europe and the
Far East
, probably for at least their third time. They had a globetrotting lifestyle that didn’t bring them back home to
Georgia
all that often. They usually stayed long enough to attend a few important society gatherings, say hello to their only daughter, and deposit money into her bank account. They wouldn’t be returning to the States for at least two months.

Which suited her just fine.

This way no one was around to interfere with her plans for the next month and a half. She was free to attend every single performance of Roadhouse’s premiere tour. With each concert and encounter with Tom, she knew their relationship would become deeper and stronger.

And by the end of Roadhouse’s tour, Tom Crowley would love her as much as she loved him.

Chapter Six

Beth was too inexperienced to realize the initial string of concerts had gone too well. Or maybe she’d been having such fun with Tom that she’d mistakenly donned rose-colored glasses toward the whole tour. Regardless, a series of mishaps over the last three performances changed her outlook pretty quick.

At least Beth felt secure in knowing nothing had gone wrong because of her. It was just bad luck showing its face at inopportune times.

First, the tractor-trailer hauling Roadhouse’s equipment to
Columbia
got a flat tire. Well, actually, it was four flat tires. Some jokester had thought it was funny to throw a bucket of three-inch nails across a dark highway to see what would happen.

The simultaneous leakage of so many tires at once could’ve resulted in tragedy, and only Sal’s many years of driving big rigs saved both his life and the precious cargo he carried.

As it was, a delay of several hours occurred while police reports were filled out and a service truck arrived to change the tires. Beth and the rest of the crew had to work their asses off to ensure Roadhouse’s performance proceeded on schedule, but they did it.

Then, in
Charlotte
, an unexpected late spring storm brought thunder, lightning, and torrential rains. The house lights flickered twice while the crew set up, causing concern of a power outage. Everyone also wondered if the awful weather would deter fans from traveling to the show.

They needn’t have worried about anything.

Just as eerily as it had blown in, the storm disappeared about an hour before show time. And the theater was packed with enthusiastic fans who demanded not one but two encores.

The last bit of misfortune involved the entire band. All five Roadhouse musicians came down with food poisoning after consuming a catered meal from a local Italian restaurant.

Luckily the crew members had all decided on deli sandwiches that day. Also fortunate was that Marty had scheduled their day off in
Richmond
, giving the band time to recover before performing at the
Carpenter
Center
.

Today, Tom sat next to Beth near the rear of the remodeled Hippodrome Theatre in
Baltimore
.

She’d been working on the final connections of wires to the mixing board. Tom had arrived early to sound check, and he’d sought her out as soon as he’d entered the theatre, stopping only to grab a cold drink for each of them.

Aside from the time he’d been ill, Tom had spent most of his waking hours with her. Beth realized as the days passed how much she really liked him. He impressed her with his sense of humor and amazing talent. He thrilled her with every touch, which, unfortunately, hadn’t been as numerous as she would’ve liked.

At the moment he was holding her hand, talking about his childhood hobby of fishing and how much he’d like to get back to it again once his music career got established. While one part of her loved his familiar contact and the easy way he shared personal information with her, another part of Beth was troubled.

Tom’s childhood and dreams were the extreme opposite of hers. He’d had a stable upbringing, and she’d been shuffled from one town to another, one performance to another. Now, when she was looking for a safe, solitary existence, he was embarking on the unsteady journey of every hopeful musician who longed to hit the big time. And, of course, he’d have to do whatever it took to remain there.

It was guaranteed their affair would be a short one. If it ever got off the ground, that is. The tour’s run of bad luck over the past week seemed to extend itself to Tom and Beth’s relationship as well.

Not a single opportunity had arisen where they could do more than kiss. Now that their interest in each other was common knowledge, the band and crew members appeared to be sabotaging Tom and Beth’s attempts to be alone.

She wasn’t sure whether it was deliberate or not, but the end result was the same: No sex yet.

And she was getting more frustrated with each passing day.

"I’d love to take you fishing in the
Adirondacks
. Our drummer, Dylan, grew up in
New York
, and he knows the best places to go. I think you’d like it."

Beth was jerked back to the present at Tom’s comment. "Excuse me?"

"I said, I want to take you fishing in upstate
New York
. Dylan could tell us where to go."

That’s what she’d thought he said. What the heck was he thinking?

"Uh, Tom. I’ve never been fishing in my life. Unless you count those mechanical carnival games with the floating plastic fish. But that was almost twenty years ago, and I sucked at it anyway."

She was babbling, but Beth didn’t know what else to say. Hadn’t she made it clear to Tom that there was no future for them after the tour?

Apparently she hadn’t been clear enough.

But, since she didn’t want to upset the general amity of the moment, Beth decided not to push the issue. She would just play along with him.

"Like I told you, I haven’t gone for a long time, either," Tom was saying. "I think it’s like riding a bike—you never forget once you master it. And I was damn good, if I do say so myself. I’d enjoy showing you all the tricks I know."

Beth knew he was referring to fishing, but she chose to believe he knew quite a few sexual tricks as well. God willing, she would learn some of those very soon.

"What did you do for fun growing up?"

Huh? The man jumped from one topic to another like a slingshot.

"What?"

"You didn’t fish. You didn’t play miniature golf. So what did you do for recreation?"

Tom waited patiently for her reply while Beth tried to wipe the astonished look off her face.

Didn’t he realize that her entire adolescence had been a recreational experience? And not by her choice.

She’d had to work very hard to remain focused on schoolwork, but Beth had been determined to get in to a respectable college. She’d been accepted to Stanford, so at least part of her life had gone to plan.

"Um, I was on the road with my dad, remember?" Beth fumbled for a nice way to remind Tom that her childhood hadn’t been remotely like his. "We didn’t exactly have a lot of leisure time." And it still hurt to think about all she’d missed out on growing up.

"Hey, we’re on tour now. And if you have time to be with me, then I’m sure when you were young, George had time to spend with you." Tom’s chiding tone didn’t sit well with Beth. What did he know? He hadn’t been there.

Memories of her teenage years crowded her: Trying to study on the bus as spontaneous jam sessions broke out. Being watched by a hotel maid-turned-babysitter while after-concert parties transpired down the hall or on another floor. Crying herself to sleep because she had no friends or mother to confide in.

She’d only survived her first menstrual period because the bassist of a long-defunct all-girl rock band had helped her through it.

It had been nothing but hell growing up on the road, and she never wanted to live that way again.

"My father dedicated his time to his job. There wasn’t anything left for me." The words tumbled out of their own accord, but Beth quickly tried to bluff her way out of it. Tried to mask how deeply the truth of her upbringing had hurt her.

She flashed Tom a weak smile. "Good thing he could call in favors to get me a job, huh? All that dedication paid off in the end."

Tom’s probing stare said she hadn’t fooled him in the slightest. But he decided to let it rest for now, moving on to yet another topic. "Do you need another soda?"

He stood up, drawing her gaze once again to his sexy body, adorned as usual in jeans and T-shirt. This one was a dark blue color which matched the shade of his electric guitar.

Oh, yeah, she couldn’t wait to get some of that. Soon, please.

Beth shook her head. "No, thanks. Break’s almost over anyway. We need to get finished so you guys can awe your next crowd of fans."

Tom’s eyes scanned the activities in the theatre before returning to Beth. "I’ll grab you another in case you change your mind later. It doesn’t feel like the AC is working right in here, and the afternoon’s only
gonna
get hotter. June in the south is a nightmare."

With that, Tom strode away toward the refreshment table that had been set up for the crew and band members. The iced drinks had come in handy during the last few concerts. He was right about that, at least: Summer in the south sucked. After living in
San Francisco
seven years, Beth was used to cool weather, fog, and drizzle. She didn’t know if she would ever adjust to the heat and humidity of the southeast.

But what was she thinking? In three weeks she’d be back on the West Coast. Searching for a job … searching for a life.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t such a cheerful thought. Better to think about the present. Her roadie responsibilities. Tom. Sex.