Forever Bound Read online

  She dashed farther out, gasping. When I reached the water, I sucked in a breath. Damn, it was freezing.

  “You’re crazy!” I told her.

  She laughed. “You’re just now figuring that out?” She splashed me with water, and it hit my skin like ice.

  I blasted a wave back at her, and she jumped away. She was still only thigh deep in the waves, and I could see every delicious inch of her skin.

  I lunged for her, dragging her against me. “I’m supposed to be keeping you warm.” She was covered in goose bumps.

  “So do your job.” She jerked her chin high and her hair fell down her back.

  I wrapped a handful of dreads around my palm and tugged. “God, this hair makes me so hot.”

  She laughed again. “I think I might be noticing that.” She backed away and looked down at how I was standing at attention again despite the cold. “So much for shriveling!”

  She ducked her head to get me to let go of her hair. I released her, and she spun away to run through the waves. I followed her, thinking just how insane we were, like little kids running naked after a bath.

  The moonlight kissed her skin as she dashed back to the shore. It was an image I didn’t think I’d forget for a long, long time.

  “Clothes!” she shouted and sprinted back for the rocks. “I’m so damn cold!”

  I hurried behind her and caught up just as she bent to pick up her dress. “Now we have sand everywhere,” I said.

  “We’re going to be a jacked-up mess going back to that party,” Jenny said, pulling the dress over her head. “I'll stay in the limo.”

  “You look beautiful,” I told her.

  She pushed at me. “I look tragic. I can’t have any photographers catching me now.”

  I shook sand from my boxers. “You worried about the shot somebody took in the garden?” I remembered that guy draping an arm over her. She might be avoiding the party on purpose.

  She smoothed her dress down over her legs. “Nah, that one was okay.” Something in her voice had changed.

  “You sure?”

  She bent down and scooped up my shirt and smacked it against the rocks to remove the sand. “I’m sure.”

  The easy camaraderie we’d felt in the ocean seemed to evaporate. We were back to near strangers having a one-night stand.

  But it was just as well. I really couldn’t give her any more than that.

  As if she knew the directions of my thoughts, she asked, “So are you in LA to stay, or just passing through?”

  I frowned as I felt sand trickle down from my jeans to hit my feet. “Sand really does get everywhere.” I smacked at the legs. “I like being on the road. I haven’t stayed anywhere more than a week.”

  She picked up my shoes and turned them upside down. I couldn’t see the sand dump out of them in the dark, but I was sure there was plenty. “Where all have you been?” she asked.

  “I zigzagged pretty good,” I said. “Nashville, Chicago, Minneapolis, Kansas City, Dallas, Austin, Phoenix, Vegas.”

  “You started in Tennessee, then?” she asked.

  I jerked on my socks, trying to ignore the grit. “Yeah, I’m from Chattanooga.”

  “People are actually from Chattanooga?”

  “A fair number of people call it home,” I said. “Tennessee River runs right through it. There’s a big ol’ park smack in the center.”

  “LA must seem like a dirty maze in comparison.”

  “Not from what I’ve seen,” I told her as I shoved on my shoes. “But we came in early evening and went straight to those swanky mansions.”

  “Not all of LA is like that, of course,” she said, bending down to feel along the ground.

  “I know. There’s some poor parts.” I watched her fumble around. “Did you drop an earring or something?”

  She stood up. “No, just don’t really want to leave anything behind.”

  I realized she meant the condom and smiled in the dark. “I can stick it in my pocket.”

  “There’s a trash can out there. Gotta be responsible, you know, since I’m such a law-abiding citizen.” She took my hand, and just like that, the awkwardness was gone again and it was like we’d known each other a long time.

  We tramped through the sand to one of the cans. The temperature had dropped again, so I pulled her close. The limo waited in the parking lot.

  “You like the beach?” she asked casually, and the question was so simple, almost silly, that I stopped and swept her up again against my chest.

  She smacked my shoulder. “You’re always carrying me.”

  “You’re easy to lug around.”

  Jenny laid her head on my shoulder. “I don’t normally seduce strangers on public beaches,” she said.

  I kissed the top of her head. “It was definitely one hell of an introduction to the West Coast.”

  “I guess we have to get back to reality,” she said.

  I started walking toward the limo. “Yeah, I can’t lose my gear. I carry my life on my back.”

  The driver appeared and opened the door to the limo. “Sorry about the sand,” Jenny said.

  “Not a problem,” he said to her.

  We ducked inside, and he closed the door.

  “Uggh, we’re bringing half the beach in with us,” she said.

  The black carpet was strewn with sand. Every movement sent another cascade down.

  We settled back on the seat. I let my thoughts drift back to the rocks, and Jenny, her responses to me. I’d had a lot of solitary encounters, but they were usually unremarkable. Just bodies and actions. No real connection. Not like this.

  I drew her close. I actually felt some regret that we’d met this way, gone this direction. I would have liked to have gotten to know her. But I had a feeling her life was complicated. There was this limo that wasn’t hers. And the party where she didn’t belong. And that man putting his arm around her.

  “You going home after this?” I asked her.

  “Yeah, it’s about a two-hour drive. I’ll probably sleep,” she said. “You going to play with that band more?”

  “You mean tonight?”

  “I mean other gigs.”

  “Beats me.” And I didn’t know. Even if they asked me to, I’d be reluctant. “I’m not really one for getting tied down.”

  She stiffened, and I realized what that sounded like. But I didn’t correct it. It was true either way. I needed to roam.

  But LA was the final destination, my conscience reminded me.

  Still, I had no plans to stay anywhere, as long as I could keep supporting myself with song. I didn’t know if LA would suit me.

  Although, if it meant I could see Jenny again…

  Maybe.

  Chapter 13: Jenny

  So this Chance guy wasn’t into relationships. Check.

  He was hot as hell. Check.

  He was seriously gifted in bed. (Okay, on the beach.) Check.

  And as a bonus, a singer.

  Perfect. Bloody. Fit.

  I hated that I wanted him. I mean, just thinking it meant I wanted a relationship. Which I never did. The only time I’d ever committed to a man for more than five minutes was with Frankie, and that was under contract. For money. And perks. And no sex.

  I couldn’t believe my brain was working this way.

  Time to apply the brakes.

  “Well, I live in San Diego,” I said. “I’m not even going to be in LA while you’re here.”

  His thumb, which had been rubbing my bare arm, went still. “It was a fun night anyway,” he said.

  “Since we’re never going to see each other again,” I said, “and I don’t even know your last name, tell me something.” I was feeling sort of bold now, and pulled away to face him.

  “What’s that?” His face looked wary in the dim light of the limo.

  “Why did you leave home? What chased you away from the great metropolis of Chattanooga, Tennessee, with its river running through town and the park smack in the middle?”
>
  I knew I sounded a little bitchy. It helped give him a reason to pull away. No rejection then. I controlled it.

  He released me. “No reason in particular.” His voice had gone cold.

  “Really? A guy takes off from home with nothing but what he’s carrying on his back, and it’s for no reason?”

  “Just wanted to see the country.”

  “That is so 1960,” I shot back. “Give me something real.”

  His eyes were hard, glittering as he glared at me. “There wasn’t anything worth staying for in that town,” he said.

  “No family? No girl? No job? Nothing?”

  “Nothing,” he said again, and now his voice was bitter enough for me to know not to push it.

  Which, of course, made me push harder.

  “You piss off somebody’s husband? You croon for the wrong bimbo?”

  “It’s in the past,” he said harshly. “Drop it.”

  I sat back against the seat, not touching him now. This was good. If I couldn’t have him, I might as well not be all morose about it. Not liking him as we went our separate ways made it a whole lot easier.

  The limo slowed as we turned into the gates of the party. Cars were still parked all over the lawn. It seemed as though nothing had changed. Maybe time stood still while we were out on that beach.

  The thought made my cold resolve melt a little.

  “It was fun,” I said. “I’m glad we did it.”

  Chance let out a long slow exhale and relaxed a bit. “Yeah. Good luck with whoever that dude was at the party.”

  “What?” I shot out. Then I remembered. Frankie. Hell, this guy thought I’d stepped out on a boyfriend. “Oh. Yeah. He’s more like my boss. This is his limo.”

  “Oh.” He sounded unsure. “I hope you don’t get in trouble.”

  “No, no,” I said. “It’s not like that. It’s — complicated.”

  The limo slowed to a stop by the front steps.

  “I bet.”

  My throat felt a little tight now that we were actually at good-bye. There was no way I was stepping out of this limo, sand in my hair, salt water dried all over me. Besides, I’d had enough for one night. My glory days were at an end, and I needed to just ride off into the sunset.

  “Good luck with your gigs,” I said to Chance. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  This made him pause. “Thanks,” he said. He hesitated, then leaned in and placed one last lingering kiss on my lips. “I’m sure I’ll be thinking of you for as long as there is still sand in my jeans pockets.”

  I laughed. “Get on out of here, Chance the Crooner. Go seduce more girls with your love songs.”

  He pulled away and moved toward the door. Brandon’s impeccable sense of timing kicked in and he opened it at just the right moment.

  I watched Chance hop out of the limo and make his way around the side of the house. I felt a lump grow in my throat. Now that was a boy worth knowing, right there.

  At least I’d had a little piece of him.

  “You going back to the party, Miss Jenny?” Brandon asked.

  “No,” I told him. “Let’s head back to San Diego.”

  He closed the door.

  I sat by the window as the limo moved forward in the drive. I couldn’t see into the darkness at the side of the house, so I wasn’t given any more glimpses of Chance. For a moment, my heart rebelled, and I wanted to go back, to chase after him.

  But instead I lay down on the long seat and put my feet up. Sleep, Jenny, I told myself. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life.

  No more Frankie. No more fancy parties. Just finish college, get a job, and be part of the boring old world of grown-ups.

  Chapter 14: Chance

  The band was packing up the van when I made it around to the side of the house.

  “Lover boy returns!” Paul said, setting the amplifier inside the back door.

  “Let me help grab your gear,” I said, and followed the bass guitarist back to the stage.

  The party was thinner now, most of the crowd sitting at the tables. I wondered if the gig had gone better after I left, or if everyone had drifted away from the stage again. The Sonic Kings should probably update their set list, pacing out the shows, but I wasn’t the one to tell them that. They had some talent. They were just disorganized and a little apathetic. It showed.

  I picked up a drum box, already feeling stupidly nostalgic about the party. I paused, looking down where Jenny had stood at my feet and I hadn’t noticed for an entire song, still scanning the crowd for her pink dreadlocks.

  I hopped to the ground, staring at the path we had taken to the gardens. She’d kissed me there so unexpectedly, just in time for that photographer to catch us. I hadn’t even noticed any cameras at the party until then.

  Strange.

  I headed back to the van. There wasn’t a lot left to gather up. The caterers were pulling their equipment too, loading a sleek white delivery truck next to the boys’ ratty van. I wasn’t sure what I’d do next. Take off walking or ride somewhere with the band. I figured I would just go along with whatever opportunities arose.

  What I didn’t expect was a hand on my arm as I was about to round the corner of the house. I paused and turned to a gorgeous redhead who seemed vaguely familiar.

  “I heard you sing,” she said. “Your voice is divine.”

  Jazz, the drummer, came up behind us with a snicker. “You’re something else,” he said as he passed.

  I ignored him. “Thanks,” I said to the woman.

  “I’m staying here at the house. You want to come up for a drink?” She kept her poise, her body held in place like she was in a photo shoot, hip cocked, arm angled away from her fitted black dress.

  That’s when I placed her. She was on a TV show my mother used to watch. I could see her in a cop uniform. Her hair was longer then.

  Paul came up and took the snare drum from my hands without a word.

  “Seems you have some time to spare.” Her smile was perfect, something you’d see on a billboard.

  But about as fake.

  “I’m just the help,” I said. “I need to get everyone packed.”

  She let go of my arm, her smile unchanging, like it was painted on. Then she frowned, rubbing her fingers together like something was stuck to them.

  “Sand,” I said with a laugh. “Sorry.”

  That was when I realized, yeah, no way was I going near this woman. She was like a cardboard cutout compared to the warm, spontaneous ease of Jenny.

  “Oh,” she said with confusion, as if trying to solve the puzzle of how I had gotten sand on me at the party.

  “Thanks for the offer,” I said, and strode away toward the van.

  When Paul jumped out of the back door and saw me, he pretended to pull his hair out. “What are you doing here, man? That was Vanessa Price! You could totally be doing her right now!”

  The keyboardist stepped around the bumper, smoking a cigarette. “He’s already had action tonight, man,” he said. “That pink girl.”

  I said nothing, just hopped in the back to locate my guitar and backpack. I wasn’t sure I was going to hang with them after all. I needed a shower and a change of clothes, though, for sure. I felt like I was carrying half the beach in my boxers.

  Jazz lay between drums on the floor of the van. “I’m wiped.”

  Paul closed the back doors, reappearing in the driver’s seat. “I think we got it all,” he said. He turned around. “You going to chill with us since you chickened out with that actress?”

  I couldn’t really afford a hotel. Their place was a roof over my head at least. “Yeah, sure,” I said.

  Jazz picked up a water bottle from the floor and chucked it at me. “You could’ve been shacking up with that redhead.”

  I deftly caught the bottle and set it down. “I just got here. I don’t need woman trouble straight off.”

  “You check to make sure that other girl wasn’t hitched before you jizzed he
r?” Jazz asked. “Because we really don’t want to have to shovel your ass off the concrete.”

  “She was alone,” I said.

  Jazz sighed. “And now so is that redhead.”

  Paul fired up the engine. It sputtered a moment, then caught. “I’ll stop by QuickieCash and split the check,” he said as we circled to the front of the house.

  “Nah, man, they’ll take too much,” Jazz said. “I can cash it at the bank Monday morning.”

  “I was gonna give Tennessee here a cut, with him making the crowd actually notice we were there and all,” Paul said.

  I sat with my back against the wall of the van. “Not necessary,” I said. “I’ll settle for a sofa to crash on.”

  “Right on,” Jazz said. “You can hang with me. My roommate is outta town.”

  We passed through the iron gates. “Still a lot of cars here,” Paul remarked. “They should have extended the gig.”

  “Nobody was paying any attention once the crooner here took off,” Jazz said. “’Sides, the food was leaving. The people weren’t going to hang much longer.”

  “That reminds me,” Paul said. “They gave us a box of leftovers. It’s by the amp.”

  “Righteous,” Jazz said, but didn’t make any move to open it.

  I scooted closer to the front of the van and found the plain white box. Inside was a pile of perfect triangular sandwiches and a stack of cookies. I pulled a couple of each and passed the box up to the front to the keyboardist in the passenger seat. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast in Vegas.

  “Thanks,” Paul said. “So where’d you go with that pink girl?”

  “Some beach,” I said.

  “Dude, never have sex on a beach!” the keyboardist said. “Sand is not your friend.”

  “Total chafing,” Jazz said.

  “It went all right,” I said. I didn’t want to admit to them I’d never been to a beach.

  “So you gonna see her again?” the keyboardist asked, his mouth full of sandwich. “Is that why you blew off the actress?”

  “I don’t even know who she is,” I said.

  “No number exchange? Nothing?” Jazz asked.

  “Nope,” I said.