The Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances Series, books 1-5 Page 5

  “Yeah. Sure. Maybe.” She stopped. “This is probably far enough. I’m going to just walk home from here.” She pointed over my shoulder. I hadn’t realized we had been walking that long. “I should go in. I’m still tired from last night.”

  “Alright,” I allowed though the last thing I wanted to do was say goodbye to her. Spending time with her sharing a meal, walking and talking…it was more than just making love to her that I’d missed. My life was incomplete without her.

  “Is this Blaine thing for real,” she queried out of the blue.

  “Yes, absolutely.” My features tightened with consternation. “Why wouldn’t you think it is?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me. Something you think I won’t like. I don’t understand why you didn’t let your lawyers handle the details in the first place. And I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me to sign something at dinner.” Looking like she wanted to cry, she turned away and tipped her face into the breeze. “What are you doing, Linc? What’s going on? Why are you really here?”

  So smart. So intuitive. So different from all the other women I had known. The ones that followed the band around couldn’t give a flip about me. The last one had tried to snap a nude pic of me with her cell when I turned over to peel off the condom.

  I was going to have to give Simone at least a partial truth.

  “You’re right. There is more. There are papers to sign. Sure.” I finger combed my hair out of my eyes. “But they’ll want you to sign those at the studio. I gave them the video that Zenith recorded of you at Huntington Beach. The Blaine people loved it of course, but they want us to do the song together.”

  Chapter Eight

  * * *

  Simone

  “Hey land lubber.” Vassel gave me his usual morning greeting before popping the last bite of his English muffin into his mouth, crumpling the waxy paper and tossing it into the open hatch of Tasha’s Outback.

  “Hey, asshole.” The diminutive blonde protested while fastening her purple streaked hair into a ponytail. She retrieved the wrapper and shoved it back at Vassel. “Throw your stinky trash in a trash can.”

  “Don’t be so testy, Tater Tot.” Only Vassel and her other band mates could get away with using that nickname without getting maimed. Tasha was tiny but tough. She held her own with all the guys on and off her surfboard which I admired. But she had always disliked me for some reason.

  She hopped off the tailgate, grabbed her board and threw a ring of car keys at Patrick who had been watching the exchange with an amused smile on his handsome face. “Lock up before you hit the water, Donegal.”

  He dipped his chin to acknowledge her command and then smiled at me. “Where’s your shadow?”

  For a minute I thought he meant Lincoln. Probably because he had been on my mind constantly. Even more so since his revelation last night. A duet with Lincoln? Could I? We had fallen back to our easy way of just being together. Would it be wise when I was still so susceptible to his charm? I sighed. I didn’t know what I was going to do about my former flame but I could answer Patrick’s question.

  “Chulo’s getting de-fluffed at the groomer.” I smiled despite my inner turmoil. “He’ll be depressed. He’s so much smaller without all that fur. He’ll give me a look like I betrayed him. Like how could I let them take away his mojo.”

  Patrick laughed sliding my folded blanket out from under my arm. “Here, let me help you get your pallet set up. Princess of the Shore.”

  “Thank you, kind Sir.” I stood back rubbing the chill bumps from my bare shoulders. It was a little cold to be in a tank and cut offs before the sun came up all the way.

  “You coming, loser?” Dylan, Vassel’s half- brother, asked Patrick pushing away from the wagon where he had been leaning. His thick brown curls were almost as sigh worthy as Patrick’s inky locks. Both the half- brothers were head turners. Their mother had been a fashion model who liked handsome men. Obviously. Vassel’s father a Greek exchange student, Dylan’s the son of a French diplomat. If one were in the business of comparing, it would be hard to pick who was better looking, Dylan with his classical looks like Michelangelo’s David, or Vassel with his shaved head, expressive brows and his always there dark stubble.

  As the only girl in the band Tasha stood out among the exceptionally good looking all male crowd.

  “In a minute.” Patrick tossed him the keys. “I need to talk to Simone first.”

  “Alright.” Dylan threw his friend a knowing look I didn’t understand.

  “What do we need to talk about?” I asked, my head tilted to the side. Without thinking about it I reached for a lock of hair that had fallen into Patrick’s eyes and moved it aside. He grabbed my wrist, slid his fingers down my arm and caught my hand.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Something I should have done a long time ago apparently.”

  “Hey, Patrick. How’s it going?” Another surfer, a pretty young brunette with her wet suit half unzipped to reveal a sexy bikini top she more than adequately filled, strolled past us tossing him a flirty smile.

  “Hey, Reese.” He turned quickly away dismissing her. Looking irritated he tugged on my hand and pulled me toward the concrete pillars beneath the pier mumbling something about too many distractions.

  “I’ll tell you what I’m doing,” he said releasing me once we hit the shadows, “when you tell me what’s going on with you and that guy you were with last night. You’re a helluva lot more than just old friends.”

  “Nothing’s going on. Not anymore. Lincoln and I were together a long time ago, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “How long is long exactly?” His eyes narrowed.

  “Fifteen years ago if it’s that important.”

  “I figured it was something like. It doesn’t seem to me that he got the message that it’s over, though.”

  “You’re totally wrong about that.”

  “That’s good to know, Simone.” His gaze dipped to my mouth for a moment before returning to my eyes. “Because I gotta tell you I’m more than a little territorial where you’re concerned.” His grey eyes glittered fiercely. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the one who’s been here at your side for the past two years. It’s me who makes you smile whenever that haunted look crosses your eyes. It’s me who talks you down whenever you feel overwhelmed. It was me that convinced you to try out for that gig at the Tiki Bar that you love doing so much. Not him. Where the fucking hell was he? Not here. That’s for damn sure. The guy must be a complete idiot to have let you go.”

  He stalked toward me walking me backward till my back hit one of the cold damp pillars. He lifted me, pressed me into it and then moved between my legs. Holy shit. I hadn’t even had a second cup of coffee yet and I was dealing with decisions involving two hot guys. Feeling dazed I just blinked at him.

  “Simone, I don’t know what went down between you and him but I can tell he hurt you. Everyone who knows you can see the evidence of that. Any guy who gets close, any guy who shows any interest you shut down.” His piercing gaze cut through all my apparently penetrable defenses. “I hope to God you’re not still in love with him.” I tried to look away so he couldn’t see the truth but he captured my face and framed it in his warm hands. “Fifteen years, Simone. That’s crazy. I can’t even wrap my brain around it. Did he ever call? Ever visit you? Ever attempt to make whatever went wrong right between you?”

  Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t speak but had nowhere to hide from his cutting but accurate perception. “I didn’t think so.” His eyes softened, his handsome face moving closer to me. “You’re in love with a ghost, Simone. A romantic image of a guy from the past who doesn’t exist. He’s old fucking news.” He rocked his body between my legs as if to make sure I remembered he was there, as if I could forget with his breath bathing my lips. “But I’m right here. I’ll always be right here if you’ll let me. It’s time for you to move on. Time to start living
again. Get off the shore. Get off your safe little blanket. Stop watching life pass you by and start experiencing it again.”

  And then Patrick kissed me, his hot tongue spearing between my parted lips. The ten year age difference melted away. The only thing that mattered was the heat, the chemistry and the connection I had ignored but that I realized had always been there between us.

  Chapter Nine

  * * *

  Linc

  Cell in my tight grip, I paced the length of the hotel suite that suddenly seemed way too small. She wasn’t returning my calls this morning. I had left one message, gone for a run along the waterfront, had breakfast, waited an hour then called again.

  Nothing.

  The silence was drowning my hope. I felt like a fish flopping around on the line not yet resigned to its fate. I had a sinking feeling that the longer I let this silence stretch on between us the further away she’d drift until I wouldn’t have a prayer of reaching her.

  I tagged my car keys from the coffee table and headed for the door.

  Fuck this.

  She would talk to me. An ocean of time had already passed. I wasn’t wasting any more of it.

  So I drove a little too fast. I made it from Shelter Island where I was staying to OB in half the time it should have taken. I slowed it down only when I hit the main drag, my eyes peeled for her surf shop.

  It was easy to find. Nothing fancy, just a wooden plaque with palm trees on either end and the nickname I had given her sandwiched between those two. Pride and something much more significant unfurled brightly within my chest knowing what it probably meant to her to have gone a different direction from what her old man had always wanted for her.

  I parked the jeep outside, clicked the locks and entered the shop holding open the door for a young woman leaving with her arms full of packages.

  I noticed a bell jingling softly over my head but mostly what I noticed was Simone and the wounded look in her eyes when she realized it was me.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Linc,” she said to her chest since her chin was tucked into it, a long wave of sun streaked hair spilling forward, a makeshift curtain to hide behind.

  “What does that even mean?” Who the hell knew with that very ambiguous statement? I shouldn’t be back in her life or maybe it was just about me being at the shop. She’d been noticeably vague when I had mentioned wanting to see it.

  She didn’t answer right away and I took advantage of her momentary lapse to look around. Instantly I knew why she hadn’t wanted me to come. It wasn’t the merchandise which was trendy and well selected. It was the photos, blown up and lining the walls of the shop. Pictures she had taken back when we had been a couple on that mini tour that had launched the band. Not pictures of us but of the beaches we had been on together. Seeing them and remembering rocked me back in my Vans.

  “I mean you shouldn’t have come back to OB,” she said her tone edged with weariness. “There’s nothing here for you anymore.”

  Shit. Tension stiffened my arms and my hands involuntarily curled into fists as if I could grab hold of those memories and relive them. Wishing I had done something, anything, to have changed the outcome back then.

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” I disagreed turning to face her. She had moved out from behind the counter that had been done up to look like a tropical bar.

  “No, Linc.” She shook her head. Her chin wasn’t down anymore. It was slightly lifted and her jaw was set into a determined line that I knew didn’t bode well for me and my plans.

  “Mona,” I protested reaching for her but she took a step backward. I swallowed gesturing around the shop at those photos. “You’re not over me anymore than I’m over you. How can you…” My voice broke and my eyes burned with determination as I took another step forward grabbing hold of her, my fingers curling around her upper arms, my grip not strong enough to hurt but strong enough that she couldn’t get away from me. Not this time. This time we were having the conversation I had been avoiding, the one I’d been dancing around because I had no idea how she’d respond.

  “How can you stand it?” My voice was husky when I started again. “Looking at them every day.” I had gotten rid of all but that one from Huntington Beach after I had made love to her the last time and she had bought me the ring I never wore anymore but still kept in my possession. “All those memories.” I pointed with my head keeping my grip firm on her. Were my eyes as glassy as hers? My expression as panic stricken?

  San Clemente. Newport Beach. Huntington Beach. Shorelines we had explored. Places where we had explored each other. “Doesn’t it hurt too much to look at them?”

  She shook her head and matching tears escaped from her golden hued eyes.

  “It hurts me,” I told her honestly. “Knowing how it was. How happy we were when you took those pictures makes the pain of what happened after seem a thousand times greater.”

  “At first maybe,” she admitted dropping her gaze. “But not after a while.” She licked her lips and swallowed. “Before I hung them in the shop I used to allow myself one picture and one memory a day. I would take the photos out as if each were a treasure and recreated the details in my mind. What we had been doing. How the air tasted. How you looked. How you sounded. Every word of our conversations. My feelings. Yours,” she whispered while I reeled from her admission.

  When she focused on me again her eyes were clear and no longer swimming in wetness. “Then I hung the best of them on the wall and put away the rest. To me they’re just two dimensional images now. They don’t have any power over me anymore and neither do you.” Something flittered across her gaze when she finished but before I could analyze she continued gutting me some more. “Go away, Lincoln. I have my life now. My life.” She struggled to loosen my grip but I held her firmly. She had taken her shot and I had absorbed it. I deserved worse probably. She deserved so much better than I had given her back then. This time I was going to man up and give it to her the way I should have before. “There’s no place for you with me anymore,” she whispered.

  “So you say, but I’m here to say you’re wrong. You say those memories are just photos to you now. I say that’s a lie, Mona. I was there. I remember. I think you do, too. How could you ever forget? The passion we shared. The longing that won’t go away. The ache. The sense of completion we found with each other.” I slid my hands to her arms going slowly, holding her gaze, making my intention clear because I wanted her surrender and she needed to know she was giving it freely to me.

  Stepping closer my thighs brushing the shapely tanned legs her cutoffs left bare, my metal belt buckle to her stomach, her tantalizing breasts in that thin top seeming to swell where they pressed against my chest.

  I tunneled my fingers deep into her silky hair swearing I could feel her nipples becoming erect points even through her shirt and mine. “I’m going to kiss you, Mona. Afterward you can tell me if you still think it’s over.”

  She slowly blinked, her eyes no longer bright honey but darkened with that passion she tried to deny. I lowered my head gaze dropping to her lips waiting until she wet them for me. “Thank you, babe. That’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

  Then I brushed my mouth over hers and a bolt of desire I didn’t try to deny made my body shudder. I wanted to savor the feel of her soft satiny lips but I couldn’t. I dipped her backward over my arm slanting my mouth hungrily over hers, my tongue between her lips, the desire I always felt with her becoming a roaring blaze within me. Once things got this far with her I never had any control. It was all about taking her, having her and making her mine.

  Again.

  Chapter Ten

  * * *

  Simone

  I was lying when I told him that the past no longer held any power over me. Still potent Lincoln wielded that power expertly as he kissed me. My memories paled in comparison to the reality. My heart pounded, my knees weakened and I clutched handfuls of his cotton t-shirt in order to stay upright. The passion. The longing. The
ache. He was right. They were all still there and they crashed over me like a will crushing wave.

  “Linc,” I moaned the moment he tore his mouth from mine, not to beg him to end his ravenous assault but to plead for him to continue it. I arched my neck to the side to give him better access for the torrent of hot open mouthed kisses that followed. My restless fingers were as active as his were, his shaping my breasts and molding them to his hands while mine reclaimed the hard masculine contours of his chest.

  “Mona,” he breathed my name with eyes that were on fire before his lips crashed onto mine again. Heat erupted between us followed by a flurry of mutually desperate movements.

  Shirts were hastily discarded. I’d never been more grateful for a built in bra in my life. Going up on my toes, I gripped his taut biceps for balance and pressed my swollen aching breasts to his bare chest my nipples tightening to points that I rubbed shamelessly against his hot skin. He traced the contours of my spine pressing me closer to help but still I wanted more and needed to be closer.

  “Mona.” He lifted my chin so I had to look at him and the hard lines of his passion ravaged face. “I love you.” I froze. “I need you to know.” His hands returned to my forearms fingers tightening around them as if he sensed my immediate unease. “I never stopped. I wouldn’t even know how to.”

  “Let go of me,” I spat harshly while twisting to get free.

  “Babe,” he cautioned as if I were one of his groupies he needed to calm down when he’d given her the ‘Hey, hit the highway’ speech.

  “Don’t babe me, Lincoln Savage.” I yanked one arm free and then the other, immediately crossing them over my breasts, furious with myself that I still ached for his touch, my seesawing breath a telling reminder of how dangerously close I had come to succumbing.