Lesson in Romance, page 10
Cara chuckled at the thought and waved goodbye.
When she walked out into the foyer, her breath caught in her throat.
Through the glass doors, she could see Alex outside, leaning against the back of his Porsche, talking with the valet. He was smiling as if nothing was wrong.
But she was beginning to learn the truth about the man hiding behind the façade of fame. She didn’t know what would happen between them tonight, but emotionally, she felt closer to him than ever before.
She felt his eyes on her body as she exited the building. Her nipples hardened under his gaze as her mind recalled the incredible kiss they’d shared earlier.
She lifted her chin and sauntered toward him with a confidence she was only beginning to acknowledge within herself.
As she walked, her eyes took in his powerful build, clad in black designer jeans and a black dress shirt that was open at the collar. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever known.
Idella was right.
Sometimes it was the woman who needed to be strong for a man broken by the past. A ray of light through the darkness of memories. An unlikely hero.
Tonight, she would be all those things, and more.
Chapter 8
It was the longest ten minutes of Cara’s life. Alex hadn’t spoken since they’d left the restaurant, and the silence between them seemed even more overwhelming in the luxurious but cramped Porsche.
She wanted to follow Idella’s advice, but how long would he act like she wasn’t even there?
Outside it was so dark she could barely make out the trees lining the road. Cara found it hard to believe there was a jazz club out in this desolate area.
Lost in thought, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Alex slammed on the brakes. His elbow dug into her chest as he grabbed her right arm and she cried out in pain.
“Hold on!” he shouted.
The car veered sharply to the left. She screamed and grabbed on to the door handle as they rode over the grassy berm, narrowly missing landing in a ditch.
A few feet later, the car screeched to a halt and Alex slammed on the emergency brake. His hand gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles looked ready to pop out of his skin.
He released her arm, leaned in close. “Are you okay?” His breathing was uneven as he searched her eyes.
Her voice shook. “I think so. What happened?”
He loosened his grip on the steering wheel. “We almost hit a couple of deer! I forgot how much they run around out here.”
“City boy,” she teased, rubbing her arm in the place where it still hurt from when he’d grasped her.
“Yeah,” he muttered, watching her. “I don’t belong here.”
She shook her head, twisted away and looked out into the darkness. Not even a near-death experience could make things right between them. The silence grew, though she could feel his eyes on her back.
He hissed out a slow breath. “Listen. Are you sure you’re not hurt? I know I was a little rough. It’s just when I saw those deer, I panicked.”
His fingers touched her shoulder. “Look at me.”
She did and saw tenderness in his eyes just before he curved his hand around her neck, brought her lips to his and apologized in the sweetest way a man could.
Alex’s mouth journeyed over hers, saying what he couldn’t say aloud, exploring the need he found there. She captured and held on to the joy as his tongue probed deeper. Both of them reveling in the beauty of wanting, and being wanted.
He broke away, and their eyes found each other in the darkness.
“I guess nothing’s broken.”
Cara felt her heart soar. He still cares about me.
She brought her fingers to her lips. “Yes, it appears that everything is in working order.”
And there’s nothing like a hot kiss to break the ice, she thought, as he started the car. They pulled back onto the road without a word, yet they both knew the air between them had shifted, like it does just before dawn breaks.
She hesitated only a second before reaching over and placing her hand on his thigh, stroking lightly. His muscles twitched hard in response, and he placed his hand over hers.
She’d always heard that the best part of fighting was making up. As he rubbed his thumb slowly over the ridge of her knuckles, she trembled inside with anticipation. That kiss and this touch hinted at just how pleasurable making up with Alex could be.
* * *
A short time later, they arrived at the club. Alex grabbed his saxophone and his eyes were all over Cara as he helped her out of the car. Now this is more like it, she thought, warming under his appreciative gaze. Her skin tingled with excitement in anticipation of the rest of the evening.
“You’re going to love this place,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s one of my favorite spots in the world.”
He opened the door and the hot sounds of jazz poured out, beckoning them inside.
The place was small and decorated classic cool with bistro tables clad in white tablecloths scattered around the bandstand. There was a bar on her right and red leather booths on the opposite wall. Votive candles were everywhere, adding to the romantic atmosphere. Every seat was taken with people talking and laughing. She noticed more than a few women staring at her with envious eyes.
Alex led her to a reserved booth near the stage. The instruments were all set up but no one was playing, and she realized the music was coming from a sound system.
He slid into the booth next to her and pointed to the walls. “Check out the pictures!”
Cara instantly recognized Thelonious Monk, Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock, Oscar Peterson and two of her favorite singers, Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday. They were some of the greatest jazz musicians that ever lived.
“Which one is your favorite?” he asked.
“I’d have to say Billie, definitely. Her voice has a rawness to it that just makes my heart ache every time I listen to her.”
His eyebrow arched at her serious tone, and she blushed as she realized the same thing happened whenever she looked into his eyes, heard his voice or fantasized about being more than just his teacher.
He snapped his fingers. “You see! It’s just like I said when we were riding up here from Harlem. You singers are sooo dramatic,” he intoned, fanning his hand in front of his face.
She elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing his side. “Time for a drink. What can I get you?”
“Club soda, please, with a twist of lime.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
As he walked over to the bar, a man carrying a trumpet approached her.
“Hi, you must be Candy. Ol’ Alex said you were beautiful, but he didn’t say you were drop-dead gorgeous!”
Candy? Who’s she?
She smiled politely. “No, my name is Cara.”
He laid his hand on his huge belly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just that ol’ Alex brings so many beautiful babes up in here, it’s hard to keep track of them all.”
“No worries,” she said, bristling inside. Between this and the daggers being thrown at her from the other women in the club, maybe coming here had been a mistake. She certainly didn’t want to be known as one of ol’ Alex’s babes!
“The name is Mac, and I’m always grateful when Alex takes the time to sit in with us locals.”
Cara breathed easier at the sight of Alex returning with their drinks.
“Hey, watch your back, Mac—she’s mine.”
The two men laughed aloud and exchanged hand slaps.
“Watch out for this man,” joked Alex. “He’s a monster on the horn, but a kitten with the women.”
Both men cut up into a fit of raucous laughter.
“Candy knows the score.” Mac guffawed and hooked his thumb toward the stage. “C’mon man, let’s hit it.”
When he left, she raised an eyebrow at Alex.
He flashed a sheepish grin. “Mac has always been terrible with names.”
She sipped her club soda in quiet fascination as he opened up his case and slipped his saxophone around his neck. After adjusting the reed, he tapped each key silently and played a few low notes.
Moments later, the music stopped and the chatter ebbed away as Mac stepped up to the microphone.
“Good evening. Welcome to the Jazz Hideaway. Tonight we have a very special guest with us. Just back in town after a very successful European tour, put your hands together for Sharp Five Records tenor saxophonist Alex Dovington!”
He pecked her on the forehead. “Promise you’ll wait for me?” Without waiting for her answer, he strode toward the stage.
“Only forever,” she whispered to herself.
Loud hoots of applause resounded throughout the room as Alex counted off the beat.
“Ah-one, ah-two, ah-one-two-three-four.”
The band immediately swung into a bebop groove. The bass walked the rhythm of the beat, bolstered by the steady tap of the snare and the hi-hat cymbals. All worked together to support the tune’s rapid staccato melody.
Cara sat in rapt attention, watching Alex play so fast that his fingers moved in a blur up and down the keys. Stretching and bending notes at will, he made the saxophone growl, purr and bark.
His improvisation had people in the audience bobbing their heads, as chorus after chorus soared into their ears and their hearts. When he ended on a sinfully low note, they burst into wild applause.
He nodded his head in appreciation, and when he looked over at her, she gave him two thumbs up and the biggest smile she could muster.
When the rest of the quartet was done improvising, Alex picked up the horn again and played the melody out.
“Let’s give a big hand to Alex Dovington!” bellowed Mac.
The band played a few more tunes before breaking to rest before the next set.
Her heart skipped a beat when Alex leaned into the microphone and thanked the band. His baritone voice sounded even sexier reverberating through the small room.
Cara watched in amusement as a small crowd immediately gathered around the stage. Many were women, both young and old, with cameras in their hand, primping and waiting for the perfect photo opportunity. Over the next few minutes, Alex posed for every picture and signed every autograph.
If this is what it’s like to be famous, she’d pass. She was glad the only notoriety she’d ever have was the full-page ad in the yellow pages for Beacon House.
Cara straightened as Alex slid into the booth next to her.
“Why didn’t you warn me about the groupies? I am seething with jealousy over here.”
He draped his arm around the back of the booth and she unconsciously inched closer to him. “There’s no competition here.” He twisted a lock of her hair around her finger, tugged on it playfully. “You’re still my biggest fan, right?”
She lifted her eyes to his and nodded, wishing inside that he knew, that she had the courage to tell him, just how much of a fan she was.
He laid his hand against her cheek, and she felt his warm breath upon her lips. “And I’m yours.”
Their lips melted together in quiet intensity, and everything else—their fear, their pasts and their uncertain future—disappeared.
Chapter 9
Alex leaned against the headboard and groaned in frustration. The feel of Cara’s sweet lips on his own was still so real in his mind, so alive in his senses, that it was hard to believe she wasn’t still in his arms, and in his bed.
Right or wrong, he had wanted to romance her tonight. Make her feel special. A fast car ride, great food and an amazing make-out session in the Porsche after they left the club all added up to an unforgettable night that ended too soon. When they arrived home, she claimed she was “exhausted” and went to her room.
Now, as he sat trying to focus on finishing his tune, he was afraid he’d offended her somehow, and he wondered exactly what she thought about the evening…and about him.
What she didn’t know was that his need for her went beyond physical lust. He cared about her, what she felt, thought and needed, more deeply than he could have ever imagined.
He tapped a pencil against his head and stared at the wall, wishing he had X-ray vision, wondering if she was as awake, and as aroused, as he was.
His erection stirred as he remembered the feel of her slender arms around his neck, the luscious dip between her breasts, the small waist that fit perfectly in his hands.
It frightened him that he wanted Cara so much, not only in his bed, but in his life. There was only one day left. It wasn’t enough time. What if he lost her forever?
She’s already gone, man. You never stood a chance. You really think she wants to be with someone who can’t read?
With a sigh of resignation, he shoved the pencil and manuscript paper to the floor and turned off the light.
* * *
Cara stared at the ceiling and trembled at the memory of his fingers brushing her hair away from her face like it was crafted of the finest silk. The heat of his gaze tracing her body, penetrating her clothes and making her wet with desire.
She couldn’t believe the man who’d kissed her senseless that evening, in the club and in the car, was the same person who’d practically slammed the door in her face barely forty-eight hours earlier.
This evening, she’d learned that Alex was warm, caring and gentle. The kind of man she could fall in love with for a lifetime.
Thin streams of moonlight filtered through the blinds. It was after one o’clock in the morning. He was probably sleeping, and the night that was so magical to her was just a nice memory to him.
Her heart lurched. By this time tomorrow, she’d be back in Brooklyn, alone in her bed as usual. Her time with Alex would be over forever.
The only consolation in the pain was that her identity would be safe. Alex would never know about her father, or what he did for a living, although he’d come close to finding out tonight. Although she never talked about her personal life with her other students, she still felt guilty about not being completely honest.
As long as she kept the survival of Beacon House at the forefront of her mind, she would be okay. But she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. When he was kissing and touching her like he couldn’t get enough, it was too easy to cross the line, and too hard to go back.
She got out of bed, let her gown puddle to the floor.
Only one more night.
It was about time that she gave Alex Dovington a personal wake-up call of the most pleasurable kind.
* * *
Cara padded barefoot to Alex’s room, clad only in a lace thong. His door was ajar and she counted his slow, even breaths as she calmed her own. Thankfully, he was fast asleep.
Moonlight shone through the window and illuminated his body. The sheet, tossed loosely around his waist, made her yearn to rip it off to reveal the rest. But there was no need to rush. She had the rest of the night to enjoy him, and she planned on taking time to savor every inch.
Inhaling deeply, she tiptoed to the edge of his bed, lifted the covers and curved her body to his, her breasts and belly sinking into his warmth.
With the lightest touch she could muster, she traced her finger along the crevice between his shoulder blades, down his spine and back up to the base of his neck. Although he didn’t say a word, his involuntary shudder resonated against her stomach and she knew he’d awakened.
She revered his skin, her tongue and lips tasting boldly as the place between her legs began to moisten and throb. She lifted one leg, placed it gently on his thigh. His muscles immediately stiffened, and the hair on his thigh tickled her flesh.
Alex suddenly ripped the sheet off and pulled her on top of him. Wrapping his fingers in her hair, he crushed his mouth to hers.
He tasted of warm spice, and she thirsted for more as his tongue led her in a tribal dance of sensual exploration.
So percussive were their lips upon each other’s face and neck, undulating in perfect rhythm, always seeking and finding new skin to taste. Their tongues played and darted, licked and prodded, until they were both breathless.
Skin to skin, Cara’s heart pounded with his as Alex cupped her face. No words were spoken, but the question of should they or shouldn’t they make love was finally answered in the unadulterated desire they saw in each other’s eyes.
The line in the sand had been erased by a tidal wave of passion neither of them understood but both accepted.
His erection, a hard, thick slab against her stomach, tempted her to take a peek. But she didn’t, preferring to simply feel his flesh continue to grow and pulse against her skin.
She shivered as his hands slipped down her back, cupped her buttocks. He gripped hard, thrusting her into a gasp, which he smothered with a kiss as he dragged his finger in the narrow gap under the thong, discovering tender flesh. Eager to stroke and coddle, she yelped when he ripped the lacy fabric in half.
Unencumbered, his hands spread her legs a little wider. Sealing her lips to his, his mouth swallowed her moans as his fingers teased, tapping lightly on her sensitive pearl. She threw her head back and panted as his lips traveled over her collarbone.
When his lips found her breasts, she cried out as his mouth fastened on her one tight tip. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he gently rolled her over onto her back while sucking her nipple with immeasurable tenderness.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, softly anchoring her breasts in his hands. His tongue moved like wildfire over one stiff peak to the other, over and over until she thought she’d go mad. Powerful sensations rushed through her body, and she clamped her legs together. It was too soon.
