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

and opening the door to the real Emma too wide.

“Like I said earlier. We’ve got something special going here. I don’t want to lose it. I’m hoping I can get you to the point where you trust this enough—trust me enough—so we can move forward with this.”

Trust? Was that possible? She was growing more and more comfortable with him, but she trusting someone meant giving up a part of yourself to them and that little clutch of fear made her hold back a little. What would it take for her to cross that boundary completely? On the one hand she was so ready to do this. On another, fear of rejection held her in its grip.

“ML?” He nudged her. “Where did you go?”

She shook off the mental tap dance. “Huh? Oh, sorry.” Make an excuse. “I just get lost listening to your voice, I guess.”

“Not a bad thing. But as I was saying, I want to know anything about you I can.” He winked. “Besides, I’ve got good stuff to tell you tonight, so come on. Play along. Favorite television show.”

“Hmm. The Good Wife.”

“Really?” He grinned. “Not American Idol?”

“I don’t watch….” She swatted at him. “You’re teasing me. No fair.”

“Okay, okay. Anyway, it’s your turn now.”

They tossed questions back and forth for a few minutes. Emma caught glimpses of Marc she didn’t see on stage or in bed. Things that made up the real person. Was that what he was doing with her?

Her confidence grew each time they were together, and she was feeling better about herself when she was with him. But what if she took that final leap? The specter of her parents loomed over her along with their friends and the people at her office. The purple streak in the hair had already been a cause for comment. What would they think of Marc?

Grow up, Emma. You aren’t sixteen any more.

“ML?”

“Yeah?”

“Where did you go?” He stroked his thumb down the line of her jaw. “You drifted away for a minute.”

“I’m here.”

“Ask me if I have any big news.”

She looked at him, startled. “Do you?”

“Ask the question,” he prompted.

“Okay, okay.” She flopped back on the pillows. “Marc, do you have any big news for me?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

“No fair,” she cried. “That’s not an answer.”

“Hmm. I think you’re right. Well. You know we’re only at Aftershock for one more week.”

Emma tensed. Was he leading into a goodbye? Giving her time to adjust to the fact in seven days this would all be over? Was this his big news? Surely he wouldn’t do it so casually. Would he?

Why not, you idiot? All you show up for is sex. Has he had enough? Didn’t you worry that was the way he saw you? Now the shoe’s probably on the other foot.

“So what’s next for you?” She hoped she sounded more casual than she felt.

“Two things.” He kissed her forehead and wound his fingers through her hair. “The biggest thing is a possible huge concert date at the Amphitheatre.”

She leaned her head back so she could see his face. “The Amphitheatre? The big concert facility? I see ads for it all the time. That really is huge. A big deal for Lightnin’.”

“It is. You have no idea.”

She sensed the excitement rippling through him, like music in a finely tuned instrument.

“So give,” she said. “I want all the details.”

She listened carefully while he explained about Rick Trajean’s connection with the manager of Deep Blue River. About the band forced to cancel as the opening act at the Amphitheatre. And about the invitation for Rick to meet with Butch Meredith with a good video of the band he could critique and decide if Lightnin’ would be a good fit for Deep Blue River. If they were professional enough. Exciting enough.

“We’re really humping this weekend to get the video finished and fine-tuned. There’s so much that goes into it, and we’ve only got two days.”

“Is that what you did today?” She pushed herself up on one elbow so she could really look at him. “You must be exhausted.”

His grin was so seductive she thought it should be illegal. “I can always find energy for you, ML.”

She brushed her lips across the stubble on his jaw. “So tell me about it. How you do it? You know.”

“Well.” He cupped a breast, lightly rubbing his thumb over the nipple. “We did the video portion today. Shot the visual as well as us singing and playing the song. But we won’t use that sound.”

“Why not?”

“It’s scratchy. Not blended. It’s just so we’ll have the lip movements to blend the soundtrack with. Tomorrow we’ll lay down the real tracks—”

“Lay down the tracks?” she interrupted. “What are tracks?”

“Recording of the actual song,” he answered. “Each vocal and each instrument is captured in a separate track. Then the sound engineer will do the mix and sync it to our singing on the video. And if it all comes together, we’ll have a polished video like the ones you see on The Music Channel. Or YouTube.”

“I don’t watch The Music Channel.” She was embarrassed to admit it, wondering if he’d think she was a dork.

“YouTube, then.” His thumb continued to idly rub her nipple. “You know what YouTube is, right?”

“Uh huh. Of course I do.” But I don’t go there to watch rock bands. Of course she didn’t need to tell him that.

“There you go. And if we’re really, really, really lucky, the gods will smile on us and the whole thing will come together in a perfect package.”

“And you can do that all in two days?” She had so little knowledge of how anything like this worked.

“We have to. It’s all the time we have and anyway, we fell into an empty slot in everyone’s schedule so we got bottom rates for it.”

She kissed him lightly. “Marc, that’s so exciting. When will you know?”

“Monday after Rick meets with Butch Meredith.”

She hated herself for asking the next question. “But the week in between you’ll be gone someplace else, right?”

“Actually, it’s an off