Relentless Rhythm (Tempest #4) (9 page)

“Oh, please.” I waved my hand dismissively, though my throat went incredibly dry at the image my mind created. I’d watched the way he moved, graceful and purposeful, a visual feast in his black leather jacket and low slung jeans. I’d also noticed the way his practiced fingers effortlessly coaxed music from a guitar. It didn’t take a stretch of imagination to know how persuasive he would be with his body and his hands, skin to skin, only the whisper of the sheets rustling beneath us.

“Hey, you ok?” He touched me and I jumped. Impossibly, I felt the warmth of him though my nylon jacket sleeve. His handsome face wore an earnest expression. “I didn’t mean to upset you again. I was just teasing. I didn’t think that kind of stuff bothered you.”

“Of course it doesn’t bother me.” I forced a little laugh from my throat that I hoped sounded believable. “I know you don’t mean anything by it.”

Oh, I meant it alright.

Every single word.

I fought the urge to pull over and show her just exactly what I meant, but I turned my attention back to the road, my fingers wrapping tightly around the wheel. At this rate the damn thing was probably going to have permanent indentations in the metal from my grip.

The turbo engine growled as I popped it into manual mode and blasted onto the ramp to enter the Sea to Sky Highway. If she could really see the thoughts that were running through my filthy mind she definitely wouldn’t have gotten into the car with me in the first place.

I gave myself a shake.
Focus on the road, asshole. Stop obsessing. Think of her the same way you think of all the others
.

Only that was difficult to do.

After I’d pulled that fuckstick off of her that night at the Mine, she no longer eyed me with her usual cool skepticism. With that barrier down, what remained was that contradictory strength and vulnerability that drew me to her like a siren’s call. I wanted to take ownership of her body matching my strength to hers. At the same time that I wanted to hold her gently in my arms and protect her, to help her overcome whatever it was that had burned that sad resigned look into her eyes. Since I couldn’t do either of those things, I’d been trying to stay away from her, but that plan wasn’t going to work very well long term. And it definitely wasn’t working with her sitting right next to me in the passenger seat of my car.

Remember her husband.

As if I could ever forget him.

“How long you been married?” I asked glancing her way.

Her bottom lip went between her straight white teeth.

Don’t think about those wet lips. Don’t think about kissing her.

She pinched her eyes shut. She was either in some kind of pain or she was having difficulty doing the math. “Three years this June.”

I was right. They were well established. She was rounding up. I swallowed the bitter dose of that medicine. “Half of marriages fail during the first year,” I threw out without measuring my words. “So you’ve beaten the odds. Congratulations.”

Could she hear the sarcasm in my voice?

She peered over at me from beneath the thick fringe of her lashes. “I think that statistic’s actually for business startups.” Her mouth twitched like she was trying not to laugh.

Well at least she hadn’t taken offense.

“What’s the difference?” I fired back.

“I don’t know. Not a whole lot, I guess.” I could feel her staring at me even though my eyes were back on the road. I tried not to look at her again, but I didn’t last more than a couple of minutes. She cocked a brow at me. “You’re one of those guys who doesn’t believe in relationships, I take it?”

“You got that right.” I made a scoffing sound.

“Why’s that?”

Her question blasted me with more force than it should have. I’d been asked that one loads of times. No reason I should tell her the truth though. I feed her the usual lie. “Chicks are only good for one thing in my opinion. And that’s something I’m very good at. So I give them what they want, and they give me what I need.”

“Like a business transaction?” She snorted inelegantly through her delicate nose.

“Yeah.” I lifted my chin and gave her a challenging side stare.

“A mutually beneficial arrangement without the traditional exchange of currency, hmm?”

I nodded.

“Bartering with sex,” she concluded.

It was my turn to raise a brow. I’d heard her dishing out snappy comeback’s to the guys who hit on her in the bar. I knew she was smart, and she’d just slapped me in the face with it. It stung a little bit, but I wasn’t mad. She was just calling it the way she saw it, but sometimes humor had a way of cutting unmercifully close to the truth.

She ran the tip of a finger back and forth over the full bottom lip that I’d imagined tracing with the end of my dick. “Do you offer them a warranty?”

I barked out a laugh and almost ran through a red light.

She giggled her eyes dancing with mirth, and I found myself treasuring the sight and sound of her happiness as if it were a priceless commodity.

We were both silent for a while, passing through rows of traffic lights before leaving the small town of Squamish in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Seeing her laugh had broken down the wall of tension between us, making me feel lighter and more relaxed with her.

In the grand scheme, maybe that wasn’t such a good thing.

“So you’ve never been in love?” she asked softly.

“No,” I replied immediately, but that wasn’t quite true. “In high school there was someone once, but it didn’t work out.” It had been a huge mistake. One I’d never repeated. I should’ve known I wasn’t cut out for the normal relationship stuff. I’d gone into a bad place after that. So far off the rails that I hadn’t been there for Lace when she’d really needed me.

“I’m sorry.” April held my gaze, hers soft with empathy.

“Don’t be. I like things just the way there are.”

“Alright.” She turned her head away. “I’m sure it makes your life a lot easier.”

I heard a trace of pity in her voice. But why did I get the strange idea it was as much for herself as it was for me and my screwed up philosophy? I stared at the back of her head wondering.

“But what about Mel?” she asked low but with enough volume for her voice to be heard over The Clash.

“What about her?” I returned.

“Oh, come on.” She turned her head, her eyes darker now, shadowed like the wall of grey granite on her side of the road. “You have to know how she feels about you.”

“She’s a nineteen year old girl. It’s a crush. She’ll lose interest in me and be onto a new guy in a couple of weeks.”

She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but shut it instead.

“Go on.” I lifted my chin. “Spit it out. Don’t start retracting the claws now, Kitten.”

“To her it’s very real.” She looked at her lap twisting both hands together, the left one with the band remaining on top. That band. That unassuming piece of metal. It might as well have been a fifty foot wall of steel. “You can be very charming, and she’s my friend. I just…please be careful with her. Don’t give her the wrong idea. Don’t hurt her.” When she looked back at me, her jade eyes held a bright emotional sheen.

I’d never been so affected by a woman’s impending tears. I put my hand over hers without even pausing to think about it. “That’s the last thing I want to do.” The metal of her ring was cold, but her skin was soft and warm and I felt that pull again. I’d been attracted to other chicks sure, but I’d never ever felt need this strong. My head spun with the desire to possess her and my dick strained against the confines of my jeans. I told myself it wasn’t her in particular. It was just the forbidden aspect that made me feel as if I had to have her or die trying. The body wants what it can’t have or something. That’s what I had to convince myself or I was going to go a little crazy chasing after what might never be.

“Thank you.” Her expression warmed.

She’d never looked at me with so much approval.

I
liked
it.

A lot.

“You’re not such a bad guy, Dizzy Lowell.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, April Reynolds,” I replied, but her gratitude and that look shifted something into place that had been out of alignment for as long as I could remember.

Surrounded by snowcapped mountains, breathing in the scent of mountain hemlock and douglas fir, I felt reinvigorated. Whistler was just as breathtakingly beautiful as I remembered it. I needed to decompress. I was all tensed up in a good way after the drive up with a man who was nearly as captivating as the scenery.

I lifted my chin to the warmth of the sun high in the cloudless blue sky. Even among the crowd of fans lining the course, Dizzy’s presence beside me was palpable. I could feel him without even looking, his heat, his addicting scent, his gravitas was just that strong.

I’d tried to ditch him at the gondola, wanting some space to try to clear my head, to figure out the best way to douse the chemistry that’d flared up so instantly and insanely between us inside the car, but it hadn’t worked. He’d insisted on us sticking together…for Mel’s sake.

Luckily, Sager and King had arrived just before Mel’s first run. It’d taken some of the pressure off me, and though it’d been obvious Dizzy hadn’t been expecting them, he hadn’t seemed upset either. The three bandmates fell into easy conversation, the way I’d noticed they always did at the bar. Though their personalities were different, Dizzy the confident charmer, Sager the quiet intellectual, and King the clown, they were comfortable with each other. Mel was going to flip out when she found out they were all here.

I risked a sidelong glance at the man whose simple touch had reached me so profoundly. His lips were flattened, his attention focused on the two men across from him.

“I think that shit’s crazy.” King shook his head. “It’s too soon.”

“I don’t think Justin’s ready either,” Sager said after a look to King.

“I think he’ll be alright.” Dizzy gnawed on his lip ring, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not as though he’s never been on stage before.”

As they continued their debate about their new lead singer, I found my mind wandering along the same path that Mel was traveling where the Tempest guitarist was concerned, to a place that I had no right to go. Dizzy was a hookups only, bartering for sex type of guy that my best friend was more than halfway in love with. It was wrong for me to feel anything when he touched me. But right or wrong I couldn’t stop thinking about him.