Bassist Instinct (The Rocker Series #2) Read online

  “Give me a minute, baby. I’m on you tomorrow, Tate. Sunday you’ll have Rensselaer.”

  “Clean, mate, this is your holiday with Piper, I can’t take you away from that.”

  “Piper has a few things to do tomorrow, she’s cool with it, right, Piper? Anyway, Lord knows, I can’t shop anymore. This woman is crazy when it comes to shoes, she can’t walk past a shoe store without getting sucked in. They are totally worth it, though.” He chuckled, and Tate wondered if he had ever heard Mr. Clean, aka Edgar Beasley, chuckle before Piper Fleming knocked him flat.

  “I can hear you, you Neanderthal. And Tate is talking to my ass!” She said laughing and Edgar smacked her lightly on the very same ass, making her squeal in delight.

  “I might just prefer it this way, Piper, my love,” Tate said. “I can see you’ve been doing the Pilates.”

  “You are in so much trouble, Edgar!” By the look in Edgar’s eyes, Tate thought he welcomed whatever was in store for him.

  “Redheads, they get so…passionate.” Edgar said and Tate heard Piper smacking Edgar’s backside.

  “I’ll text you her address, I’ll be there at 9:00 tomorrow.”

  “You’ll be up at 9:00 am?” Edgar laughed.

  “Yes, this girl has got me right by the short hairs,” he said and they both laughed.

  “9:00 it is,” Edgar walked out the door with his package over his shoulder.

  Tate turned to say goodnight to his friends and found Genna walking toward him. He smiled at her. “I never heard who you’d pick.”

  “Who I’d pick for what?” She had such a lovely open smile. Her long blonde hair was pulled away from her face in a French braid, wisps of it softened her look.

  “The woman you’d have sex with…” He nudged her.

  “Oh that. Well, I have to say, men are kind of weird about that, but it was a funny conversation. I opted for a character from one of my books, her name is Claire Sumner. It was probably cheating, but she has all the things I admire in a woman, and she’d be non-judgmental. I think that’s what would bother me the most about baring myself to a woman, we hold each other to such a high standard, it’s unfair to all of us.”

  “Wow, you took it all very seriously, didn’t you?” Tate looked at her carefully.

  “I guess I did.”

  “You’re a complicated woman, Genna.”

  “We are all complicated, Tate.”

  “Well, I’m just glad you didn’t pick Christie as eagerly as she chose you. That’s an image I will never get rid of and it’s disturbing me,” Tate said and they both laughed.

  “Is everything okay? You seem a little thoughtful and maybe a little down. Did you have a bad day?” Genna said putting a hand on his arm.

  “No, I had a truly splendid day. Genna, I went on a date… for the first time, I think, and I had more fun than I ever expected. I’m not down, just discovering truths about myself that I hadn’t known, or even considered. I guess I’m more complicated than I thought.”

  “And are you okay with these discoveries?” She asked gently. He paused and considered her question.

  “I think I am. But it’s scaring the hell out of me at the same time.” She squeezed his arm.

  “I have no advice for you. But know that you have the best friends a man could hope for.”

  “You are a darling,” he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, you lot.” He lifted a hand to wave to his friends and walked down the hall to his own room. He looked at the shots he took of himself and Fiona earlier that day, and changed the background to the one of her looking properly taken care of. He felt something flutter in his abdomen. Lust, the woman was certainly making him lust after her. He was proud to have been the one to put that look on her face. Was it more than just lust, he wondered? They’d known each other for two whole days, and he’d not yet taken her to bed. It had been high school since he’d waited that long for anyone. Connor was right, though, she was different. He’d wait for her to make the first move. It might kill him, but he’d wait.

  ***

  Connor and Genna walked arm in arm along R Street back to her parent’s house from the inn. It wasn’t very late, and there were Friday night revelers here and there. Whenever someone would pass them Connor moved his face away, often into Genna’s throat for a quick kiss. Walking in public with his family was the only time he was bothered by the attention of his fans, and since the news of Genna’s pregnancy hit the tabloids, he found it more and more disagreeable. It would be madness when The Nutmeg finally put in an appearance.

  The compulsion to keep her and the babe safe were at times overpowering. He’d never been so singularly driven before. It drove Genna mental, and he knew at times he made her angry, but he couldn’t stop a train with his bare hands, and he couldn’t stop being worried about her and the babe. He would die if he lost Genna, he would suffer for the rest of his life if they lost the babe. Neither option sat well with him.

  “You’re uncharacteristically quiet. What’s up?” Her voice was like silk on his skin.

  “I was thinking of how dear you are to me,” he said and she stopped and looked up at him. She was an averagely tall woman, but he was a tall man.

  “That’s a lovely thing to hear, Connor.” He bent his head and kissed her lightly. They turned and began walking again, Connor had her tucked under his arm with his hand on her hip and Genna leaned her head on his broad chest with her arm around his back.

  “And what about you?” He asked. “What is going on in that complex brain of yours?”

  “Well, now I’m thinking about how lucky I am to have even met you, never mind have you fall in love with me and share your life with me,” she touched her baby bump. “And give me The Nutmeg.” He brought his hand to her bump, too. “But right before that I was wondering if you had The Sight.”

  “The Sight? You’re sounding Irish, my love.” They chuckled.

  “The other night you told me you dreamed of something coming for Tate. I think it’s Fiona.” Connor thought of the face in the mirror in the dream mouthing Tate at him. It could have been the lovely Fiona now that he thought about it.

  “I also said it wasn’t entirely a good thing.”

  “Because now he has to take stock of what he really wants. Sometimes that’s not easy. It wasn’t easy for you, as you might recall.” He chuckled again and kissed the top of her head mid-stride.

  “It should have been, Christ, you nearly killed me,” he said clutching at his heart.

  “You’re such a drama queen,” she said as they walked up the stairs to her parent’s house with Connor’s laughter filling the air.

  ***

  At 7:00 the next morning Fiona made her way downstairs to make a pot of coffee. She smelled it brewing when she walked into the still dark kitchen. Switching on the light over the sink she got a cup down from the cupboard and opened the fridge for cream. She took the carton out, closed the door and there stood Sam, still and silent, inches from her. She inhaled sharply but managed not to squeak this time.

  “I wondered who put the pot on,” she said and he smiled at her. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Yes, ma’am… I mean Fiona,” he said. “Your brother gave me a break, I got a few hours.” She nodded. “Looks like I’ll be keeping an eye on you today, please try to act like I’m not even there.”

  “Okay, I’ll try, but I have to say it will make me very uncomfortable.”

  “I expect it will, Fiona, but no way I’ll let anybody hurt you, and that’s what it’s all about. So relax, I won’t judge you, just keep you safe.” She gave him an appraising look. “And I will mostly be watching the people around you, seeing if they’re acting funny.”

  “Thank you, Sam.” He nodded.

  “I’m going to play a little and then I’ll take a shower. Tate should be here at 9:00.” Sam nodded again and smiled. “What?”

  “I just love to hear you play, I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

  “Come sit with me, we
can play together,” she rooted around in the bench and came up with Scott Joplin’s Pineapple Rag. “I like this one the best.” Sam sat next to her. He took up a lot of space on the small bench, but he had a way of putting her at ease.

  She read the music briefly and turned to Sam. “Will you join me?”

  “Nah, but I’ll turn your pages,” she smiled at him. She had the music memorized, but he looked like he needed to do something.

  “Okay.” She nodded and began to play. Originally the song had a slower tempo, but she liked to hear it fast, and she played it to feel the joy of it. Sam was keeping up with the notes perfectly, and turned her pages like a pro. She wondered if he was just shy about performance. Hopefully he would play at some point while he was here, she thought. She finished the song and Sam clapped and smiled and she loved the praise.

  “Do you have any requests?”

  “Yes, I do. I saw some Traffic in your bench, I’d love to hear ‘Glad.’” He looked a little shy about asking, but Fiona smiled hugely.

  “I haven’t played that in a while, but that suits my mood. I’d love to.” She took a long drink of coffee and then drank a glass of water. Sam stood and went to the window looking out into the street. She drank more coffee, held the mug for a minute for its warmth and contemplation. Putting the cup down she focused on the keys and began to play again. The old Stevie Winwood song was a jazzy piece that was heavy on the piano. Fiona threw herself into it and enjoyed herself completely.

  The first time she heard the song was when her brother brought home the record from a used record store and she heard it once and fell in love with it. She played it again and again until she could play it cold. For the first time since she moved in with her father’s family she felt their respect. Fiona was five.

  She finished the six and a half minute song and heard Liam clapping from the bottom step. Sam turned from the window and Fiona looked at her brother with a big smile. Life was really good, she thought.

  “Good choice, Sam. Now I’ll shower,” she stood and drained her coffee and went upstairs feeling indescribably wonderful. The only image in her head as her fingers danced across the keys was Tate Dylan’s smile.

  ***

  With a spring in his step Tate walked the few blocks to Fiona’s house. Clean would keep her safe, and so would he, whatever it took. Now he just had to find out what the heck they were keeping her safe from. Tess said she was a music professor and a concert pianist, who would threaten a woman like that?

  After a night of Googling what there was to do in DC that weekend he decided that he was going to take her to walk around the monuments. Nice of the Americans to keep them all within a square mile or so of each other. Of course, half of the Irish monuments were on O’Connell Street in Dublin, so what did he know?

  Tate knocked on the door and Sam, the man introduced to him last night, opened it. Without a word Sam stepped back to allow him in.

  “Ta,” Tate said and Sam nodded. Tate smelled toast and coffee and heard the whine of a hairdryer from upstairs. “Should I?” He pointed up the steps. Sam shook his head. Tate turned toward him.

  “I’ve a mate coming in a few minutes,” he said and heard the dryer stop. “Big fella, looks like Mr. Clean. Please let him in, aye?” Sam nodded.

  “Tate? Is that you?” Fiona called down the steps.

  “I’m here,” he said.

  “Come up for a minute,” she said and he grinned at Sam and trotted up the steps to her. Her bedroom was larger than he expected, and it housed a queen sized bed in which she must get lost, he thought. He entered slowly, taking it all in. Like the woman who lived here, it was lovely. “Hi,” she said from the door to the bathroom, still holding the dryer in one hand and her hairbrush in the other. He tossed the gift he held onto the bed and walked to her.

  “Hi yourself,” he said as he took her around the midriff watching her eyes as he closed his mouth over hers. She made a happy sighing sound and he pulled her more tightly to him. He released her mouth to look at her. “I love kissing you, Fi. I could do it all day.” She smiled and her eyes closed a little.

  “I thought we’d go do the monuments, but that sounds even better. You are very good at that,” she said and he kissed her again.

  “That’s what I wanted to do.” He put a finger on her mouth. “Ye’ve such lovely lips.” He bent to them again and finally came up for air. He caught some movement over her shoulder and saw Liam back slowly out of her room and close the door silently behind him. Fiona hadn’t noticed. Tate let her go. “Are you ready?”

  “Not yet, I’m almost dry, give me a second,” he nodded and she resumed her drying. He walked to her bureau and looked at the framed picture there. Two blond kids and a raven haired pixie were at the beach squinting in the sunshine in one of them. The boy, who must have been Liam, stood in the middle and had his arm around the black haired girl, who must have been Fiona. Her perfect lips were exactly as they were today, and her eyes, squinting slightly in the sunshine were that remarkable cobalt blue. She looked at the camera with a very serious face, while Liam looked at her. The other girl in the photo was twice as big as Fi and was smiling flirtatiously for the photographer, she was clearly an attention seeker.

  It was not the only picture on her bureau, there was a very small photo of a woman in a Swan Lake tutu bent over backward in an impossible pose. It must be her mother, he thought, and that was the only picture she had of her. He looked at his own face in the mirror over the bureau and he looked terribly sad. Putting the small framed photo back on the bureau he looked at the other things scattered on it. There were several earrings and a small, nearly empty bottle of Joy perfume there. He brought the bottle to his nose. Yes, it smelled of her, now he knew something important, he thought.

  He turned and looked at the neatly made bed. It was a sleigh bed covered in a lemon yellow duvet and pillows, with an azure blue bolster in the center with white sheets and skirt around the base. The lamps beside the bed were Tiffany, and the bedside tables were antiques with fauns and nymphs chasing each other delicately painted on the fronts. He liked her taste. The hairdryer turned off and he looked toward the bathroom. She smiled at him.

  “Tess painted those,” she said like a proud parent.

  “And here I was assessing their age. She’s quite good, our Tess,” he smiled.

  “She’s a genius, actually, with a lot of talent. I can’t wait to see where it takes her.” She turned the light off and stepped out of the bathroom. “I need to talk to you for a minute.” She took his hand and led him to the bed. She sat down and he sat next to her wishing he could simply lay her back onto the pillows and make love with her for the rest of their lives. His eyes went wide at the thoughts he was having and he ran his hand through his hair and he stood up and walked to the bureau, saw his frantic face in the mirror there, and turned around again and saw she was staring at him like he was mad. Calm yourself, man.

  “Sorry, I think I’m having a midlife crisis. Hot flashes and the like.”

  “Are you menopausal?” She smiled a little.

  “It’s very likely. Of course, I may have simply lost my mind. I’m sorry,” he sat back down on the bed next to her and took her hand. “You were saying?”

  “Are you all right? You look pale,” she asked.

  “Sorry love, I’m dandy. Never better. Speak to me,” he cocked his head to the side.

  “Oh. You remember yesterday’s uninvited company,” she began.

  “Your brother and his gun? Or the thugs in the SUV?” He grinned.

  “Um, the thugs mostly, but the brother, too, now that you mention it. Liam thinks I’m in danger, and I wanted you to know, so if you don’t want to risk your own health, you might reconsider spending the day with me.”

  “That’s very noble of you. Of course you’re in bloody danger, and I want to spend tomorrow with you, too.” He stood up and pulled her with him. “I can only think of one thing while I sit on the bed you sleep in night after night, with it
smelling so delightfully of you, and I’d hate to have your brother shoot me.” Fiona looked at the bed and then at him and laughed.

  “That’s it? Not ‘Oh my God, I value my life, you’ll have to go on this date alone?’” She said and he laughed.

  “Of course I value my life, that’s why I don’t want your brother to shoot me. As for dating alone, is that what I’ve been doing in the shower every night since I met you?” She blinked and then realized what he meant and laughed.

  “You are very funny.” She touched his chest. He chuckled a little because she thought he was joking.

  “Do you mind having a bodyguard today, love?” He asked gently.

  “It’ll be a little weird, but I’ll manage. Are you okay with it?”

  “I’m well past having it bother me. Anything to keep you safe. And along those lines, we should get out of your bedroom before I lose all control.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Christ, you’re lovely, Fi.” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

  “Thank you, Tate.”

  “You’re welcome. Wait, why are you thanking me? And why are you moving away from me?” He pulled her back to him, enjoying the feel of her soft fragrant hair around his face.

  “For being so wonderful, of course. Is that for me?” She pulled away again and pointed at the beautifully wrapped package on the bed, clearly delighted about it.

  “Yes, it is,” he leaned over and picked it up off the bed and handed it to her. She was clearly thrilled and he got goose bumps at having made her so happy. “It’s not much.” They managed to situate themselves back on the bed. She cocked her head to the side.

  “It’s that you thought to do it, Tate. It could be gum for all I care,” she smiled at him.

  “You must really like gum.”

  She ripped open the paper and the CDs slid away from her and on to the bed. “Music! I love music. Now I’ll have something to put on my iPod.” She smiled at him and then looked closely at the top one. “The Bubblin’ Grungies; your favorite band?” He chuckled.

  “Yeah, I suppose it is.” She held the CD up and looked closely at it.