Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (bill gates best books TXT) 📗

pushed her he’d lose her. The knot in his stomach told him that. Swallowing the immediate retort that bubbled up, he nodded. “Okay. For now. But when can I see you again?”

“Soon?”

“When?” he persisted. He didn’t know how long he could wait to be with her again. “Will you come back to the club?”

“Um, I think so.” She edged toward the door.

“We’re there for two more weeks, although I damn sure don’t want to wait that long to see you again.”

“Two weeks?” She wet her lip and twisted her hands together, anxiety flashing across her face.

“Uh huh.”

“Then where do you go?” she asked.

He watched her carefully as he answered, trying to be as casual about it as he could but alert for her reaction.

“We have a week off then another really good club. One we’ve played before.” Yes, Music Lady. We’ll be gone from Aftershock. Will you follow us—me—or will this be the end of us? He had so much he wanted to share with her, like the excellent opportunity almost within the band’s grasp. Usually he consulted with his family but for a long time now he’d been hoping to find the right woman to be part of his life. He harbored the hope when they really got to know each other, ML would be that person. He was almost afraid to open himself up to her any more in case she decided to just disappear. Again. “So will you? Come back? I’d like it a lot if you did.”

She hesitated so long he was afraid she’d say no. Then she nodded. “A-All right. I will.”

“When?”

“I…soon.” Impulsively she blew him a kiss. “Bye, Guitar Man.”

She yanked the door open and raced to her car leaving him standing there once again, bare-assed naked, watching her drive away. Somehow he had to find out who she was and how to get in touch with her. Meanwhile, he hoped she meant what she said and she’d be back at Aftershock.

And next time, he’d make sure they stayed awake a while and talked. So he could learn more about her and tell her about himself. He wasn’t about to give up on his Music Lady.

Chapter Eight

Emma straightened up the files on her desk and shut down her computer. The alarm she set on the machine had dinged to let her know it was noon. Time for lunch. She worked by herself in an interior office on the fifth floor of a building and without an alarm, she’d have no idea if it was day or night.

The morning had dragged on as if it had lead feet, and she had a world-class headache from the manuscript she was editing.

Of course, it could also be the fact that I got almost no sleep last night.

But she had to admit, it had definitely been worth it. Oh yeah, more than worth it. Marc Malone made her feel…oh, unlike any way she’d ever felt before. He woke her body and taught her what real sexual pleasure was. But it was more than that. There was emotion behind it, as if he was trying to tell her something with his actions.

She had been so tempted to crawl back into bed with him when he asked her to stay. To cuddle next to him again. Sleeping with Marc was so very different than just being in the same bed with Andrew. Which was what it had been. With Marc it was a sharing of bodies and souls. The emerging Emma was drawn to it like a junkie to a fix.

And the knowledge frightened her more than anything else.

She was really riding a dangerous edge here. She wanted to throw herself fully into this relationship, just as he kept asking her to, but she was finally discovering who she really was. Making a commitment of any kind so soon was scary. What if it turned out to be a hurricane that blew itself out? She’d be left with the wreckage and no idea how to put the pieces back together.

On the other hand, what if it didn’t? What did they possibly have in common to build anything together?

You are such an idiot. You have a guy who treats you like gold when you let him. Who’s accepted the situation on your terms, at least for now. Who obviously wants a solid life and isn’t bringing you to death or just using you for blanket bingo.

So what was the damn problem?

Lifetime habits didn’t just go away. She might be rebelling now but if her relationship with a rock musician came out of the closet, what would her family say? Her friends? Except, of course, for Annie, who’d be on the sidelines cheering her on.

She could hardly believe she’d driven home wearing nothing but the Lightnin’ T-shirt. And she’d crawled into bed still wearing it for the three hours of sleep she managed before her alarm went off. She was just glad her boss gave her flexibility in her hours. But then, people who edited textbooks and did it well weren’t exactly in plentiful supply so they took good care of her.

Right. No long lines to apply for boring jobs.

Her job was almost a metaphor for her life until that night at Andrew’s–dull, rigid, manipulated into acceptability. She thought of all the notes she’d jotted down on story ideas, character outlines, little tidbits of ideas. She hadn’t even found the courage yet to start her first story. She shuddered as she imagined the reaction of her parents and all their friends if she managed to write and sell an erotic romance.

Coward.

Oh, yes. Definitely.

She saved the document on her computer and pushed away from her desk, massaging her aching temples. Marc wanted to know when she was coming back to the club. She hadn’t given him an answer because she wasn’t sure herself. She was still straddling the fence, one foot in each of her worlds, the old and the new, wanting to ask him how long he stuck with one