Serenades (Whispering Cove) Read online

  “The concert is work. The new music…” He shrugged one shoulder in a show of doubt she’d never witnessed in him. “I’m hoping that works better in Whispering Cove.”

  “You say that like you’ve been struggling.” The tabloids, award shows and TV interviews reflected a different angle of his life.

  “I have. I haven’t been able to get Whispering Cove, you, off my mind.” He took a step closer. “You wouldn’t be trying to avoid me, would you?”

  She didn’t move. She was going to have to stand up to him sooner or later. Now was as good a time as any for that first step.

  “You were the one who didn’t return a call.”

  He took another step. “You didn’t call.”

  “I did. Even went to a concert.” She’d done everything she could think of when she’d found out she was pregnant. Then she’d given up and too much time had passed for him to ever believe it wasn’t a ploy intended to trap him.

  “I didn’t know.” Another step. Only a few feet separated them. “Maybe I would have come back.”

  “No.” Her heart kicked excitedly. She wanted to believe he could want to be with her enough to change his lifestyle. She’d wanted to believe it when he first came to town and when she’d tried to contact him. She wanted to believe it now despite his lack of response to her attempts. Regardless of his rebuff, the months apart had done nothing to lessen her feelings for him. Or make her stop thinking about him.

  For nine months she’d carried his child. Almost five months had passed in single-mom-ville and, with thousands of miles separating them, he’d been a daily part of her life.

  “Why not?”

  “You coming back for me would’ve made us more than a fling.” She shook her head to reinforce her argument. If she gave in, even a little, she’d fall victim to the hope that had had her reaching for the phone on more than one occasion, especially in the early morning hours when she cradled Kendall back to sleep after nursing. “You said yourself you wouldn’t be trapped into anything more.”

  Another step. “Maybe I’ve been regretting that.”

  Her leg muscles twitched with the urge to close the remaining distance. Her hands fluttered at her sides in an instinctive need to touch.

  It was Christmas. The time of year for a single woman to fantasize about a sexy man to share the cold nights with. When the man was famous, kind and generous in bed then one night with the fantasy was enough to satisfy her for months. Her emotions were still all over the hormone-o-sphere from having a baby. That had to be why she was more susceptible than normal.

  The weight of tears and emotion and the pent-up dreams of an orphaned girl who’d yearned to be wanted flared into an image of an adult woman dropping to her knees and begging for his words to be true.

  With the begging came a flying heart rate and buzzing brain.

  Wanting to believe him was easy. Almost automatic. Self-preservation kicked in and screamed for her to get away from him, for her to say something, anything, to get him to leave before he could disappoint her.

  He didn’t know about Kendall, and now, with her baby upstairs, hungry and no doubt ready to start wailing any moment, wasn’t the time to break the news. Unless she wanted to prove his words for the pretty lie they were. Telling him about their daughter would certainly have him running if good luck were her friend.

  He would regret his return more than his departure.

  If bad luck was haunting her, he’d accuse her of going to lengths greater than any other woman to trap him. Hell, avoiding traps was the whole reason she’d agreed to a fling with him. She hadn’t wanted strings either.

  But if he meant what he was saying, if he’d missed her and wanted to be with her, there was a chance he would accept Kendall. That they could be a family.

  No! If Josh meant what he was saying, he wouldn’t have been in every tabloid with a different woman each time. He’d been a player last time he was in town—living up to his gossip rag reputation. He still was, and, like before, he was using his gift with words to push her buttons.

  Even if he had changed his mind about relationships, and she didn’t think he really had, the nomadic lifestyle of living on the road was unsuitable for a baby. She didn’t want to raise Kendall on a perpetual tour, and with each album bigger than the last, Josh’s tours grew longer. His last one—yes, she’d kept an eye out—had lasted ten months and spanned five countries.

  No. A relationship with Josh was out of the question. Her heart and libido were going to have to listen to her head this time. There would be no late-night trysts in his hotel room or secret rendezvous in a festival booth.

  “I regret nothing that happened between us, Josh.” She held her ground when he took yet another step. He was now close enough that she had to tilt her head to look up to him. If she stretched her fingers out she’d touch him.

  That also meant he was close enough to smell, and he smelled more delicious than fudge-filled chocolate chip cookies in the oven. Sweet and decadent, spicy and musky, he was more sinful than the calorie-filled cookies she loved to bake.

  “But as amazing as being with you was, and I’ve never known better—” why had she just admitted that? “—I can’t pick up where we left off.”

  “Then let’s pick up where we began.” He extended his hand and offered a smile. “I’m Josh Bryan. Nice to meet you.”

  She glanced at his hand. A grin tugged at her mouth. She ached to give in, to take his hand and openly return his smile. Giving him a real smile would open the door to flirtations. The touch would awaken the never dormant desire to be wanted. Surrendering to his sway extended her emotional budget farther than she could afford.

  Maybe cautiousness had been hardwired in when she and Carmen had been orphaned, split up and passed from home to home. They’d both landed in nice enough places each time, with nice enough people, but nice enough wasn’t enough when you weren’t with your only family.

  She and Carmen hit the road as soon as they were both free from foster care. They’d run until Whispering Cove.

  Life in Whispering Cove had changed things, but in the loneliness of her thoughts Aimee admitted she still wasn’t satisfied. She wanted a man who wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him. Josh could’ve been that man, if he had a different lifestyle.

  “Things are too different for me now.” She couldn’t forget the things they’d done. The way they felt or the way they’d altered her life. Her stomach knotted, and she suspected it had more to do with desire than the anxiety of rejecting a man no woman in her right mind would turn down.

  Kendall crossed her mind, and with the thought of her daughter who waited upstairs to be fed, the tingling pressure of letdown passed through Aimee’s breasts. Blissful, the sensation wasn’t unlike the instant release of an orgasm. She pressed a hand to her chest and fought the instinct to close her eyes and sigh.

  More pressing was the knowledge that she only had a few minutes before the nursing pads in her bra were soaked and she’d leak through her blouse. Unsexy and undeniable, she’d have to explain.

  No. Forgetting all that they’d done was impossible.

  He didn’t drop his hand when she didn’t accept it. He instead leaned forward and took hers. “We can’t start over. We can’t pick up. What can we do?”

  “I wish I knew, Josh.”

  Chapter Two

  Aimee didn’t give Josh a chance to say anything more before she turned and went upstairs. He would have followed, but the way she retreated advised him to give her space. Her knee length, Christmas green blouse and sparkling red skinny pants were the only cheerful things about her. Unless he considered the way she moved up the stairs.

  She didn’t climb slowly or even do the kind of casual jog a lot of people did when they were as energetic as Aimee. No, casual was not a word that could be used to describe her departure as she skipped every two stairs with a hurried ease he wouldn’t have expected from someone with her short legs.

  No, no
t even the way she headed upstairs was cheerful.

  She might have to work twice as hard to cover the same distance in the same time as him, but when she wanted to get away she clearly had the motivation.

  Why?

  Had he said something wrong? She’d told him before that if he was ever in town to look her up. Well, he was in town.

  He was working, desperately needing inspiration. Whispering Cove, with its snow, seaside-village welcome, and holiday festivities, had inspiration in spades. It was the perfect place to write a Christmas album—and rekindle the greatest fling of his life.

  Except his fling seemed resistant.

  Driven by the spicy scent that was distinctly Aimee, Josh was halfway up the stairs before he realized he’d moved. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, and he’d tried each time they were together. He’d tried when they were apart, because it was one of the things about her that had never left him.

  He’d come to Whispering Cove to write music. And see Aimee. Following the arousing aroma the rest of the way up the stairs seemed more productive toward the moment’s top goal.

  At the landing that was really no more than a four-by-three rectangle of tiles, he faced the hardness of solid wood. Self-confidence had never been an issue for him, yet he grew more uncertain with every breath.

  He enjoyed his freedom. Relationships didn’t belong on the road. Wives left home alone struggled with trust. He’d seen it too often. If jealousy wasn’t an issue it was often because money and the connection to fame mattered more than the man. They were all reasons he’d quoted to himself after walking away at the end of his Whispering Cove engagement over a year ago. He reminded himself of them each time he’d thought of calling Aimee, but each time it became more difficult to put the phone down without dialing.

  He’d given in to the weakness early on. When she didn’t answer or call back—though he hadn’t left a message—he tried telling himself it had been for the best. Five months ago, the need to hear her voice, to hear she was okay, had grown.

  Five months ago, when the strangest sensations had gripped him at the slightest thought of Aimee, he’d come closer and closer to calling. It made no sense that every thought of her had set off unexplained pains in his abdomen and lower back. Since the onset of those pains, thinking of her had set off similar, if slightly muted, pangs. With them came a tightness in his chest and swells of emotional tenderness that were completely unlike him.

  The tightness had grown in intensity the closer he’d gotten to Whispering Cove, the closer he’d gotten to the pub. Standing before her, watching her press a hand over her heart, he swore he felt the echo of her touch on his own chest. Standing outside the door that blocked him from her, Josh again experienced a shift in his chest. This time it was a pleasurable release that flooded him with the tenderness he’d experienced on occasion.

  Unlike before, the tenderness was magnified almost to the point of tears. Though it wasn’t simply tenderness. No. It was warmth and love. The kind of love that bound people for life. Unbreakable love.

  It was the kind of love he only knew because he’d seen it in his parents’ faces. He’d witnessed it when his sisters and their husbands held his nieces and nephews.

  It was the kind of love he only allowed himself to dream of, but never imagined finding. His lifestyle was everything a family oriented woman didn’t want. Aimee’s was everything he couldn’t have.

  Josh shook his head and stepped back. Whatever he was feeling for Aimee he couldn’t give it the freedom to rule him, but yearning and necessity warred within.

  Distancing himself from the warmth he wasn’t comfortable with, he retreated down the stairs. The sounds and scents of the pub beckoned, yet as much as he’d enjoy a cold brew and the companionship of Whispering Cove’s natives, he couldn’t risk seeing Aimee again so soon.

  If he stayed for a drink, just as if he’d knocked on the door upstairs, he would fall victim to the power of his emotions and then lose control. Control had become all too important in a life where he was surrounded by addictive temptations.

  “Leaving so soon?” Hauk asked from just inside the kitchen door as Josh turned toward the back exit.

  “I have someplace to be.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

  Josh shook off the feeling that Hauk knew a secret and kept moving. Inspiration was suddenly striking life into every creative pore. The desire to see Aimee became the driving need to write some new lyrics. Nothing else mattered. He had something he wanted her to hear and he could always find the right words in a song. “Work to do.”

  Creativity rode him all the way back to Byron and Ruth’s home. He’d told them he could stay in the hotel outside of town with his band, he preferred being with his band, but Byron had insisted on putting him up.

  “A fella needs to enjoy a home-cooked meal once’n a while,” the old man had argued. “My Ruth would love to have a younger man to cook for.”

  “What about Braydon?”

  “He hides at home nights with his wife and baby. Downright unsociable that boy’s become.”

  Josh knew the claim to be a lie, but he’d grown to care for Byron as deeply as he had his own granddads. Knowing he’d never see them again was all the motivation he’d needed to bite back his arguments. And a home-cooked meal at Christmas—if he wasn’t going to be home—sounded damn nice.

  On the short drive from the pub to the Mitchells’, images of the town and Aimee and the townspeople circled in Josh’s mind. Everything about the place defined small-town America. It might even have been the inspiration for a Norman Rockwell or Thomas Kinkaid picture or two if the men had ever seen the place.

  Writing a Christmas album was one of his reasons for being in town, and Whispering Cove was a Christmas album.

  Josh grabbed his bag and guitar case from the backseat of his rented Humvee and hustled up the steps of Byron’s home. He craved the feel of a pen between his fingers as lyrics flowed. He prayed Byron and Ruth would indulge his need for seclusion to write.

  The door was yanked open seconds after he knocked. Byron’s face was set in a scowl even as he pulled Josh into the warmth of their living room. “Where’ve you been, boy?”

  “I ran into some traffic on the way to the ferry. Then I stopped to check on the band.”

  “And after that?” Byron challenged.

  Josh wouldn’t lie to Byron and though he hadn’t thought the old guy had seen him he got a different impression now. “Hauk’s.”

  “Why would you do a thing like that?” Byron’s outburst drove Josh back a step. The man wasn’t known for subtleties, but neither was he the type to be surprised that a man might want a drink. “You were supposed to be a surprise at tomorrow’s concert. Now everyone’ll know you’re the special guest.”

  “I only talked to Hauk and one of his waitresses.”

  “People would have seen you. Which one?”

  “Aimee. I’m sure she’ll be discreet. And no one seemed to recognize me.”

  “Boy! You’re out to ruin my work.” Byron blustered as he headed to the phone, muttering about damage control and going blind.

  Ruth, Byron’s wife, stepped in from the kitchen as he headed to the phone. She wiped her hands on the Mrs. Claus apron covering her slightly pudgy belly and slid her husband a look that said she was on to him—it was a look all mothers mastered—and Josh suddenly felt like he’d stepped in the middle of an inside joke he wasn’t privy to.

  “He’s taking this surprise pretty seriously.”

  “Yes.” Ruth cast a last glance at her husband before smiling warmly. “He’ll make you pay if he thinks the word’s out.”

  “Maybe I should hide in my room here. I need to do some writing anyway.”

  Ruth shook her head. “If you think that’s going to work on that old codger you’re more naive than all those tabloids would suggest.”

  He resisted the instinct to roll his eyes. He hated the reputation the tabloids had buil
t for him. It was way more glamorous than reality. “You mean he’s not going to let me hide in my room?”

  “No, sweetie.” She angled her head toward the stairs, gesturing for him to follow. “As soon as he finishes his calls he’ll be dragging you downstairs where he’ll talk your ears off all night.”

  “Would he be offended if I wrote while he talked? I don’t want to be rude, but when the mood strikes I hate to lose it.”

  “And the mood struck. At Hauk’s.” Her indulgent eye-crinkling smile held wisdom so like his grandmother’s. It was probably that likeness that had him being honest without worrying about offending her.

  “It did.”

  Ruth led Josh into what had to have been Braydon’s room before he got married. Bright walls and masculine furniture with sailboat models lining the shelves welcomed Josh as much as the deck of a boat might. It was another layer of Whispering Cove’s charm—beyond the chill of winter awaited the welcoming warmth of days in the sun and sea.

  “There’s always a pen and pad by the phone. Just tell Byron he’s inspiring you.”

  “I think I’m going to love staying here.” Josh set his bag and guitar on the end of the bed and then kissed Ruth’s cheek. “Though you’re already making me want to call my grandmother so I can hear her voice.”

  “Then call her.”

  “In the morning. She’ll be asleep for the night.” They were in the same time zone for once, and it was only pushing nine, but one thing he knew about his grandmother was how much she loved being up to watch the sunrise. That meant she went to bed shortly after the sun. She and his granddad had done it every day of their married life. She’d never broken the habit after Granddad passed, saying he was still with her every morning.

  “Are you close to your family?” Ruth slipped her hand in the crook of Josh’s arm and led him back downstairs.

  “Very. I’d be with them right now if your husband wasn’t so persuasive.” Christmas was the one time each year he’d never skipped being with his family. He’d hated telling them he wouldn’t be home this year, but as he’d known they would, they’d supported him and promised they would see him in the new year.