Page 8 of Dirty Mind
I vaguely remembered spewing my guts between heated kisses, praying one of us would come to our senses before it was too late and this gorgeous woman got so deeply embedded under my skin, extraction would be impossible.
“You should have listened to me.” I flattened my hand against the door, leaning in closer. I was dying to kiss her, but this meeting was supposed to be on the up and up and I didn’t want her to think I was taking advantage of my time with her.
“I did listen.” Her eyes were sparkling when they met mine. “I heard every word you said. But I don’t want to be the next Mrs. Jarvis, so I figured we had nothing to worry about.”
The next Mrs. Jarvis.Hearing any other woman utter those words would have made my blood boil, but hearing it on Charli’s lips made my body react in inexplicable ways. “Who was that guy?” I could tell I’d confused her with the change in topic, but it had been bugging me since we left his house.
She frowned, drawing little lines between her arched brows. “You mean Max? I told you, he’s a friend.”
“How’d you meet him?”
“At a bar downtown.” She smiled. “We’re both obsessed with music. He plays the drums, one of the few instruments I don’t know how to play, so he offered to teach me. I’ve been going over to his house for lessons for a few weeks and we’ve been talking about starting a band, maybe trying to get a few gigs around town.”
I unlocked the door and punched in my alarm code as I tried to process what she told me. “You’re into music?”
She laughed. “Obsessed with it is more like it. Cece and I have been playing instruments, singing, and writing songs since we were little.”
“Really?” I led her through the mud room into the main living area. “Can you play this?” I asked, gesturing to a baby grand tucked away in the corner of my open living room.
“Of course.”
I gestured to the bench. “Have a seat. Let’s see what you’ve got.” I was being selfish. I wanted to see her get lost in one of her passions, to have a moment to watch her without monitoring my thoughts or fears about where this was going or how to control my feelings for her.
“Ok.” She grinned as she planted her bottom on the bench. She bit her lip as she looked up at me, making my body stir in the craziest ways. She wasn’t coming on to me, but I suddenly wished she was. “What do you want to hear?”
“Your call.”
“Hmmm.” She considered it for a minute before she started stroking the keys, making my heart clench as I recognized the familiar ballad. It was one I’d written for my debut album. A lesser known one that had never been released as a single, so I rarely played it anymore.
The ceilings were soaring, making the acoustics incredible, and her voice was… awe-inspiring. I’d heard plenty of people sing the song over the years, but she was the only one who’d stirred the memory of the scared kid I’d been when I wrote it. I’d been praying for a break, desperate to be recognized, and clinging to hope when everyone around me said it was pointless.
I swallowed repeatedly, trying to find the words when she finished the song.
Looking embarrassed as the silence stretched on, she dipped her head and her strawberry blonde hair fell, creating a veil that shielded her face. “That song was always one of my favorites. So raw. And I think it sums up how we all feel as musicians. Pursuing that dream seems so impossible, but some people make it come true. You did. And I guess that gives the rest of us a bit of hope.”
I sat down beside her on the bench, needing to bridge the gap I couldn’t seem to with words. “You’re incredibly talented, Charli.”
“Thank you.” Her fingers continued to stroke the keys. “You know, last night you helped me cross one item off my bucket list…” She giggled. “I was kidding about that, you know. I don’t actually put the names of the guys I want to sleep with on my bucket list.”
I smiled, nudging her shoulder with mine. “But if you did, I’d make the list, right?”
She licked her lips as she stole a glance at me. “You’d top the list.”
Damn. I was sinking fast, losing myself in this girl, and I didn’t want to be rescued. Not this time. “Good to know.” I cleared my throat as I watched her delicate, bare fingers play a familiar Billy Joel song. When she finished, I whispered, “You said something about your bucket list…?”
She rested her head on my shoulder. It was a sweet, innocent gesture and I felt my heart take another tumble. “Singing a song with you is on my list.” She continued caressing the keys as she spoke. “I knew it was just a crazy fantasy when I wrote it down, no possible way it could happen, but here we are and…”
I suddenly wanted to help her cross every item off her bucket list. “You pick the song.”
Her eyes widened with excitement. “Seriously?”
“Of course.”
I’d been intimate with this woman last night, totally lost in her. In my experience with past lovers that would have meant a level of comfort that incited demands of five-star restaurants, expensive weekend getaways and designer clothes, not a duet in the middle of my living room that made her light up with excitement like it was Christmas morning.
“Lost?”
Ugh. That was a song I’d written after my last breakup. My label wanted to release it as the first single on my latest album and I’d been forced to play it every night on my last tour, but it was deeply personal, and singing those lyrics still cut deep.
