Love Resolution (Black Cat Records series) Read online

  By

  Michelle Mankin

  * * * *

  Amazon Edition

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  Love Resolution

  Book Three of

  The Black Cat Records Series

  Copyright © 2013 by Michelle Mankin

  Cover created by Michelle Preast of Indie Book Cover

  Formatting by JT Formatting

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Discover other titles by Michelle Mankin at Amazon.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Forty-Six

  Forty-Seven

  Forty-Eight

  Forty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The most beautiful music in the world is kindness.

  Michelle Warren, author at: http://wanderdusttrilogy.com/

  This one is for you

  Resolution (rez’ uh-loo’shuh n) n. A course of action determined or decided upon.

  “What are you doing here? Avery gasped, glaring back at the man who stood across from her in Black Cat’s downstairs corridor. He looked so much older and thinner. The thick black hair she remembered had gone almost completely grey.

  “I came to see you.” Worry lines etched the corners of eyes the same deep emerald as her own.

  “You shouldn’t have,” she replied bitterly, her heart seething with anger. “I don’t want you here.”

  To say it was a shock to see him was an understatement. She was furious that he had found her. Seeing him here brought to the forefront emotions she had tried to leave forever behind.

  Marcus’ hard forearm tightened around her slender waist. “Who is this guy, Ace?”

  “He’s my father,” Avery informed him in a disdainful tone.

  “Avery,” her father began, letting out an uneven breath. “I’ve been trying to find you and your brother since the night you ran off. It’s been almost four years. Four years of wondering whether you were dead or alive. Then I saw your picture on the cover of a magazine in the supermarket checkout. I found out where you were, applied for a leave of absence from work, and booked a flight to Vancouver. I had to see you.”

  “I really wish you hadn’t.” She closed her eyes tightly, trying to quell the rush of painful memories that the sound of his voice brought back.

  “Kat, please,” he pleaded, his gaze darting up and down the corridor. The muted sound of a voice singing spilled from the recording room across the hall. “Can we go somewhere and talk?” He gave Marcus an uncertain glance. “Just the two of us? I want…”

  “I don’t care what you want, old man.” Avery cut him off, taking a determined step toward him, her heart pounded in her chest. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Anything you need to say can be said right here, right now, and in front of Marcus. He’s my fiancé.”

  “Kat?” Marcus asked, raising a questioning brow.

  “He’s always called me by my middle name,” she clarified before focusing back on her father. “You gave up the right to ask me for anything when you started using my body as your personal punching bag,” she told him, her voice filled with accusation. “The outside bruises may have healed, but the inside ones remain.”

  He cringed. “Of course, you’re right,” he admitted softly, his expression pained “Absolutely. I know that, Kat, but…”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snapped, eyes flashing. “It’s Avery now. I’m not that scared little girl you can push around.” She’d gotten so worked up that her hands were clenched into fists and her vision was swirling in a red tinged haze.

  Marcus reached over and gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

  “I’m ok,” she said, glancing to the side, eyes meeting his.

  “Avery,” her father began again, “I can never make you understand how sorry I am for what happened, but I can see that you’ve done well with your life despite everything, and I’m grateful for that. I know the things I did are unforgiveable.”

  “You’re right. They are unforgiveable,” she interrupted. “So you can get that I don’t want or need your apology.” She blinked back the angry tears from her eyes. Her nose wrinkled like he was a particularly offensive piece of garbage. “I want you out of here. I don’t want anything to do with you.” She turned her back on him, leaning into Marcus and laying her hands on his crossed forearms. “Get rid of him, please.”

  “Sure. I’ll take care of it.” Marcus’ chin dipped down, brows drawn together. “Are you ok?”

  “Fine,” she lied as she released his arm and moved down the corridor. The truth was her father’s unexpected appearance had shaken her to the core, and she needed time alone to deal with it.

  Marcus waited, watching Avery until she turned the corner out of sight before he turned back to address her father. “Mr. Jones,” he started.

  “Arthur,” he interrupted. “Call me Arthur, please.” He let out a pent up breath, his cheeks flushed from the unpleasant scene.

  “Arthur,” Marcus repeated. “Obviously, this wasn’t such a good idea. Avery has absolutely no interest in seeing you. I’m sure you understand.”

  Arthur nodded. “I had hoped, but yes, you’re right.” He gave Marcus a defeated glance. “It’s no more than I expected.” His shoulders slumped. “How much has she told you about our family?”

  “Enough.”

  He nodded somberly. “Trisha died when Kat and Jus were only eight, after that I was a shitty father. Her passing left a terrible void.” His gaze drifted away for several moments before he straightened his shoulders and refocused again. “It was a really dark time for me. But that’s no excuse for the things I did. I should have stepped up and been there for my kids, but I didn’t. Instead I went completely off the rails. The way I handled it with the drinking and with Kat and J
us…well, it was wrong and it’s the biggest regret of my life. I wish there was some way I could take it all back.” He paused and shook his head, resignation evident in every drooping line of his body. “Would you at least tell her that for me?”

  “Alright,” Marcus found himself reluctantly agreeing, having had his own issues with substance abuse, and a past riddled with poor decisions because of it. “But if I were you, Arthur, I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

  “I won’t. But those two kids, they’re all I’ve got left. I had to at least try.” He turned, took a couple of slow steps down the hall, and then stopped and faced Marcus again. “If I don’t hear from you,” he paused to zip up his parka, “take good care of her. And if by some miracle, she changes her mind, I’m staying at the Coast Hotel on Denman Street through the end of the week. You can reach me there.”

  Avery rose from the black leather sectional as soon as she heard the elevator ding. She watched Marcus step out of the private lift and into the foyer. He tossed his wallet into the chrome bowl on top of the entryway table. His sky blue eyes met hers, and her bottom lip started to quiver. In a couple of long strides, he reached her. Wrapping his hands around her shoulders, he gently pulled her into him.

  Even though she was 5’9”, Marcus was four inches taller, and she had to tilt her head back to peer up at his handsome face. Tenderly he gazed back at her, the soothing strength and warmth of his body seeping into hers. During private moments like this, she got a rare and treasured view of the real Marcus Anthony. The sensitive and caring one, not the temperamental rock singer that most knew.

  “You been crying all this time?” His sculpted lips turned down at the corners.

  She nodded and lowered her head.

  “Oh, Avery,” he sighed and lifted her chin to brush firm lips softly across hers. Moving back slightly, he studied her face while the backs of his fingers skimmed over her wet cheeks and then brushed across the tips of her ears.

  She shivered.

  He threaded his fingers into her hair, sifting through the copper shoulder length strands. “I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this,” he murmured, deep voice rumbling as he tucked her head into his chest.

  She relaxed into him. Being in Marcus’ arms always made her feel safe, protected, and loved. The reappearance of her father had entirely the opposite effect. A plethora of old insecurities had resurfaced, making her feel like she was in danger of sliding back into the role of the victimized teenager again. “Is he gone?” she asked quietly.

  “Yeah. He didn’t really put up any fuss,” Marcus answered softly, smoothing his hands down her back.

  “Thank you.” She let out a shuddering sigh.

  “Ace.” He said her name like it was a question.

  She tensed. “I don’t want to talk about it, Marcus.” She pulled away and squared her shoulders. “You know the story. He’s an alcoholic. He was neglectful and abusive to Justin and me. Period. End of story. It’s old news that I don’t want to relive. Not after I’ve worked so hard to forget.”

  Avery went over and stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows, one of her favorite spots in the apartment. The view was the primary reason the twenty five hundred square foot condominium was valued at well over six million. The sun was setting over West Vancouver in the distance, red and pink ribbons of color trailing across the darkening sky above the sapphire water of the Burrard Inlet below.

  Ignoring the tears that tracked silently down her cheeks once more, Avery wrapped her arms around her slender waist. Damn him! Why did her father have to come back into her life right now? His presence was a poison that tainted everything, even her excitement about going out on her first tour.

  Marcus came up behind her and placed his warm hands on her tensed shoulders. He turned her around, his expression somber. “Avery, this is me. I of all people know how hard you’ve worked to put your past behind you.”

  “No. You don’t know,” she returned still prickly. “You think you do, but you don’t. Not really.” Opposition laced her voice. “Knowing is one thing. Experiencing it is another. You’ll never understand. There’s no common ground between your childhood and mine.”

  “You’re right,” he agreed sadly, tucking a coppery strand of her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know what it was like growing up like you did, and it makes me mad to even think about it. But I’m here, and I love you, and I want you to let me help you deal with this.”

  “I’m sorry.” She closed the distance between them, and dropped her head onto his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

  “It’s ok.” He stroked her hair silently for a moment. “If you should change your mind about seeing him, he wanted me to tell you that he’s staying in town this week.”

  She pulled back, her expression hardened. “I’m not changing my mind.”

  “I’m ok with whatever you decide. I won’t push either way. But if you should decide to meet him, I don’t want you going alone, ok?”

  “Ok.” She blew out a breath that stirred her bangs.

  “Good.” He gave a satisfied nod. “Why don’t you go take a hot bath? I’ll make some rooibos tea and bring it to you.”

  “That would be really nice,” she confirmed, weariness weighing her down as she shuffled back to the master bathroom.

  Reclining against the back of the garden tub with her eyes closed, she knew the moment he stepped into the room by the way her body reacted, tingling with an awareness that had always been there between the two of them. Even when she’d been disguised as a guy.

  Heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the bath flooded her veins. She opened her eyes to find him leaning back against the door frame looking at her with a heavy lidded gaze. Steam billowed from the white porcelain mug cupped in his masculine hands. Slowly, the focus of his gaze lifted from where her breasts peeked out above the surface of the bubbles to her face. Looking pointedly at the mug, she arched a brow. “Is that for me?”

  “The tea you mean?” Marcus asked suggestively, giving her a sexy half smile.

  Avery reached out with a soapy arm to take the mug he offered her. “The tea will do… for now,” she said, playing along. Blowing over the top before taking a sip, she sighed with pleasure at the first taste of the rich exotic brew. Warmth from the tea slid down her throat while the passionate expression on Marcus’ face fueled warmth of a different sort.

  Purposefully, she sat up further in the water, feeling the bubbles sliding down to her waist. Eyes darkening to deep sapphire followed their path with focused concentration. She started to bring the tea to her mouth again when he abruptly reached for it and removed it from her hands.

  The mug clattered as he set it down on the black granite countertop. He grabbed a thick white bath towel off the warming rack. Wordlessly, he unfolded it and held it outstretched for her to step into. “You are so beautiful,” he said watching her rise from the tub.

  He wrapped her flushed body in the soft heated towel and swept her off her feet. Cradled tight to his rock-hard chest, she found herself swiftly carried to the bedroom. Her heart hammered excitedly against her ribs as he laid her out on the king sized bed and began to caress her body. With calloused fingertips he expertly stroked her like an instrument that he had mastered. She’d never had a lover like Marcus. Not that there had been many before him. But she could never have imagined anyone making love to her the way he did. Like it was a physical expression of what he felt inside his soul.

  He ran his hands across every inch of her sensitized creamy white skin plucking lightly in certain areas, circling teasingly in others, always seeming to intuitively know where and how to touch in a way that would give her the most pleasure. By the time he covered her body with his own she was trembling and ready. She moaned deep in her throat at the exquisite feeling of completion she felt when he finally brought their bodies together.

  Over the past week she’d sensed his lovemaking taking on an even higher level of intensity than usual
as if he was savoring each moment. Now he made love to her so tenderly and so patiently that it took only moments before he’d coaxed from her the ultimate crescendo. And as it always was between them, after she cried out his name, he soon followed, dampening her vocal release with his mouth over hers, as if he were drinking in her essence.

  In the morning she woke and stretched out her arm to find his spot on the bed empty and cold. Wrapping the sheet around her naked body, she padded down the hall following the harmonious sound of the acoustic guitar into the studio. Shirtless, jeans half buttoned, he sat with his bare feet on the top rung of the wooden stool. His head bowed, she watched his arm muscles flex as his fingers picked out a complicated melody. His long dark brown hair shielded his strong jaw from view. Without speaking, he stopped playing, looked at her, and reached out his arm.

  She moved forward, the sheet falling abandoned to the floor. His gaze raked appreciatively over her form and her body immediately responded. Blue eyes dark and smoldering with intent, he slid off the stool, twisting at the waist to carefully set down the guitar on a nearby stand. He deftly undid the buttons to his jeans, sliding them down. Fully nude, he stepped forward, pressing his warm hard body against hers. He cradled her face in his hands. For a moment, she saw worry flicker in his blue eyes that she didn’t understand. She covered his hands with her own, a frisson of unease sliding down her spine. He scooted back on the stool, drawing her to him, lifting her body so that it straddled his. With his hands cupping her bottom, he began moving her in a practiced rhythm that made her entire body burn from the inside out. Lingering concern slipped away as the combustible heat between them fanned quickly into a roaring flame.

  When Avery stepped out of the shower, towel tucked between her breasts, Marcus was already gone. She found a mug of tea cooling on the nightstand next to a note: Sorry not sorry you didn’t get to drink your tea earlier. Coleman torture/workout. See you later. Love you, Marcus.

  She smiled to herself as she took a sip. Though he wasn’t the best at verbalizing the way he felt, Marcus showed her over and over again with the things he did how much he cared. A quick glance at the clock brought her lazy musings to an end.