A Moonlit Serenade Page 6

  She hesitated before shaking her head. Strange. Ryn sang lullabies for a living. She had to have a favorite.

  But then, she’d never mentioned her parents—just Dez’s—in our conversation at lunch. I cleared my throat, unsure how to get us back on better, safer ground.

  “I want us to do a duet. Asher has the better voice, but this is for Mila and Murphy first and foremost, and it’s about the only thing I can give them they can’t get themselves.”

  She picked up her wineglass and took a sip, staring at me over the rim. “Why a duet with me?”

  “Because your tune gives me chills each time I listen to it. When I played it for Murph, he went near ballistic when I told him he couldn’t sign on to the project. That’s how good your voice is. It’ll carry mine.”

  She blinked at me before her entire face flamed bright.

  “I think that’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received.”

  We ate in silence for a bit and I enjoyed the meal she’d made me. But I needed to ask the other detail that nagged me.

  “So why would someone want to mow you down?”

  Her fork clattered to her half-empty plate as she gaped. After she managed to close her mouth, she asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “That car. It aimed right for you.”

  “No way.” She shook her head, hard. “There’s no way.”

  “I was there and saw it happen. The light had been red for ages. It only shot through when you stepped off the curb.”

  “But . . . why? Who?”

  I resettled my glasses on my nose and peered at her through the lenses. “Dunno. You can’t think of anyone who’d want to hurt you?”

  Ryn picked up her fork but it was just to push the food around her plate. “Besides Stephani? No.”

  “Who’s Stephani?”

  “And that’s why she wants to hurt me,” Ryn said. Her chuckle was forced, but I appreciated the attempt at humor. “The girl who asked you out in my classroom. Young. Blonde. Curvy.” Her brows rose with each of the final three words until they all but disappeared in her hairline.

  “Oh, right. The sheila who got sicked on by the nipper. Yeah, she was a right nuisance. But with a bub in the car?”

  “It was a red car, right? Stephanie drives a little red Audi.”

  “Didn’t catch the make. The windows were tinted dark, but I know the plate had a K and a 6. We should check out her car when she comes in next week.”

  She shook her head, anxiety flashing in her eyes. “I’m not sure it’s her. Steph is just young. She’s not mean-spirited.”

  I let Ryn have the last word because I planned to find out what Stephani’s license plate was before the next class. “Can you think of anyone else?”

  Ryn licked her lips, but this wasn’t in invitation. Her eyes darted left then right, landing anywhere but on me.

  “Ryn?”

  “Sam,” she whispered.

  My chest ached as if it hollowed out with that one syllable. “The woman who was here earlier?”

  Ryn smoothed her long, wild curls, the shadow of pain building in her eyes, sliding across her skin. She’d paled too much. “Dez—my husband—she’s his twin sister. Her name’s Sam. Samantha.”

  “Of the baby-daddy shaming comment?”

  Ryn nodded. She tugged at her tunic, balling the material into a tight knot at her hip so a thin slice of her pale stomach showed above her leggings. If the situation were different, I would’ve loved the slow strip tease.

  “She’s not happy with me,” Ryn said. Her voice wavered.

  I reached for her, not willing to chance a fall. The skin on her arms was chilled. I pulled her closer, unsurprised by her shivers.

  With an easy lift of my arms, I helped Ryn settle into my lap. She nestled in tighter, needing the connection as she considered the possibility I brought up. Bloody hell. Should have kept my mouth shut.

  But then Ryn might be in danger. Remembering the trajectory of the car; the sharp whine of its engine and the direction of the front end as it flew closer to her, I knew Ryn was in danger.

  “What kind of car does Sam drive?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. Then deeper. The words came out a rasp, nearly as painful to hear as to speak.

  “A red Honda Civic.”

  7

  Ryn

  “You can’t think it was her, though.” My words sounded defiant—not strong or sure. I fisted my hand on my thigh, thankful for Jake’s proximity even as his question made me want to pace around the room.

  “I bloody can and will,” Jake said, his voice sharper than usual. “Most people know their attackers. Mila’s was her step uncle.”

  I tugged at my hair, trying to settle my nerves. “One, we don’t know it was intentional. Two, who told you it’s someone you know? Are you sure that’s true?”

  Jake’s intense gaze drilled into mine. “Yes, I’m sure.” He paused, sucking in his lower lip, almost as if he wished he’d stopped talking long before he had. “Someone ran that light—directing the car at you. Taking that lightly, blowing it off, opens you to danger. And…” He looked chagrined. “And it’s possible the person was a fan. Some feral with a mad crush.”

  “On you?” I asked, amused. “You think someone tried to kill me so they could get with you?”

  Jake grimaced. “I didn’t say that. But situations like that have happened before.”

  “To you?”

  He flapped his arms in exasperation. “No.”

  I laughed, thankful for the release of tension that had built in my shoulders and neck. Jake scowled harder.

  “Look,” I offered, patting his biceps. “If something else happens, I’ll call the police.”

  He glowered, but I didn’t back down. No way Sam wanted to hurt me. And if it was some random fan…well, it wasn’t like Jake and I were together. He was wooing me to be on his album. No need to worry about kissing him because that wouldn’t happen again.

  Finally, Jake sighed. “That’s going to have to be all right. But I still register protest. And I’m going to suggest you look at Sam’s license plate. If it has a K and a six, you bloody well better call the police.”

  I shivered, trying to force away the concern Jake’s word built within my chest. “Noted. And I promise.”

  I slid from Jake’s lap, and he stood. He tugged me forward and wrapped his other arm around my waist. He bent his head toward mine. “I’m going to kiss you. Then you’re going to tell me to leave.”

  “I am?” I asked, surprised and turned on all at once. And with one look from those hazel eyes, I’d already relinquished my promise not to kiss Jake again. My lips tingled in anticipation—a sensation I relished. “Why?”

  “Because I’m not going to want to stop with just a few kisses. And we’ve just met. You and I both need to consider what a relationship means to us.”

  “We’re in a relationship?” I asked. He didn’t really want me—did he? No, he wanted me to work on the album, not build a life with me. Pssh, I needed to get a grip. Just because Dez settled into a committed relationship with me didn’t mean Jake wanted—or planned—to do so. And…and…I hadn’t dated anyone since Dez. Hadn’t wanted to. Sam’s visit tonight made me realize she and Dez’s family weren’t ready for me to start a romance. Not that Jake planned to romance me.

  “I want us to be. But, as you said, you’ve not dated much, and I don’t want to ruin my chance by coming on too strong. But just so you know, I plan to call you tomorrow. To set up another date.”

  Joy spread through me at his words. He wanted to see me again. In a romantic setting—not a business one. Our attraction rocked me, but maybe Jake always created fireworks in the women he kissed.

  I swallowed down the lump building in my throat and forced a smile. “Are you always this methodical?”

  “Yep. Drives Murph troppo.”

  The unfamiliar word caused my growing panic to subside. “Troppo?”

  “Crazy. He says he can’t sta
nd my plodding approach to life.”

  Jake said he wanted to kiss me. I wanted that, too. Very much. Turning him away now would be stupid—something I’d regret for ages. I sucked in a breath and tried to act much braver, and sexier, than my thoughts allowed. “Well, I’d prefer you kissed me rather than told me what comes next.”

  “That I can do.”

  He covered my lips with his, and I pressed up toward him, needing to feel his chest against my breasts and his tongue in my mouth. His slow slide of lips drove me crazy, and I gripped the back of his neck as I angled my head. Jake’s muffled moan sent throbs of awareness into my lower belly. I slid my tongue over his lips before nibbling at his bottom one, pulling it into my mouth.

  8

  Jake

  Care to give away some gifts tonight? I asked Ryn via text.

  What did you have in mind?

  I smiled. I liked her speedy response, her up-for-anything attitude. Mila talked Murph into going to the Mercer Island Tree Lighting. If you want to go, we can tag along.

  You’re inviting me to meet your brother at a Christmas event?

  I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to ignore the building tension there. Thought it would be fun. Festive. Cold. We don’t do cold Christmases. Mila’s desperate to meet you. Please?

  My phone pinged with her response nearly an hour later, and the entire time, I worried I’d overstepped somehow. What if Ryn hated Christmas? Or didn’t celebrate it? Or…my mind spun in way too many directions, and I struggled to make the calls and send out the necessary e-mails to keep my lullaby album moving forward.

  Asher’s e-mail with Preslee’s studio times this week had my heart plummeting further. I’d signed on everyone I wanted except Ryn—the linchpin of my project, and she wouldn’t bloody text me back about a date tonight, let alone answer me about singing.

  Just what I deserved for wanting to start a relationship with someone I was desperate to work with.

  Sorry—was on a phone call. Okay, but only because I want to give little kids presents. I’ve never done that before.

  I heaved a sigh of relief—good, she wasn’t avoiding me.

  I’ll make Murphy sing your favorite carol. I replied.

  Really? That would be amazing! Though…is it a big deal that I’m half Jewish? I mean, I grew up celebrating both Hanukkah and Christmas.

  Ah. See, that’s what came of assuming Ryn’s background was the same as mine. I’d made her uncomfortable. I set my phone down and rubbed my palms across my face. Served me right.

  I needed to hear her voice, reassure her and myself that I wanted this date.

  I pressed her number and ignored the crazy trip in my breath as I brought the phone to my ear. You’re a rock star, Jakey. Talking to a sheila you like is easy as.

  Biggest lie of the year.

  “Hello?”

  Hearing her voice, my jaw loosened and the words flowed. “You got to celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas? You won the jackpot on holidays.”

  She made a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and exasperation. “I was confused for years. I didn’t understand why so many people didn’t do it the same way as my family. My parents weren’t all that demonstrative.” Her hesitation made me think they were even less demonstrative than she let on. “I went to Christmas activities with Dez and Sam and their parents, but my mom insisted I go to synagogue every Saturday for years.”

  “Do you prefer one set of traditions now that you’re an adult?”

  “I—I don’t know.” Her voice suggested a story there. “I mean, they’re important to me for different reasons.”

  “Right-o. Which is why we go to the tree-lighting thing tonight and then some menorah-lighting thing another night.”

  I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, praying I’d gotten Ryn’s vibe—and the details of Hanukkah right. I felt like a bloody damn fool with my face all red and my heart hammering like a bass drum.

  “I’d like that.”

  Her quiet words, filled with both uncertainty and pleasure, caused me to fist pump. Good thing I was alone in my hotel room.

  “I’ll pick you up at six.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing you.” Again, her voice was hesitant, but I loved the words spilling past her lips.

  I clicked off, rested my phone against my chin. Not half as much as I look forward to seeing her.

  Because of Mila’s shoulder—and Murphy’s overprotectiveness—Ryn and I offered to take the wrapped toys over to the donation site. Now, after eating and drinking too much, we wandered back toward the place Murphy texted he and Mila were.

  Children in hats and coats, some with half-off scarves trailing behind, shrieked past the towering tree of red poinsettias. Blue-topped tents held a variety of food-stuffs, hot cocoa, and information about the night’s events. A line of candy canes and lit spiral trees led to the stage where Murphy and Mila waited. Ryn smiled at it all, her mitten-clad hands clasped together in excitement. The mittens made me smile—a soft gray yarn with bits of red and white mixed in. Festive but not overt.

  “I’ve never come out here for the holidays before. This is fun.”

  Another passel of kids—probably ten—raced past us.

  “Usually I’m in shorts and sunnies for this holiday. Seems odd to bundle up.” I rubbed my hands together to warm them up.

  Ryn stopped walking and stared at me with big eyes.

  “Our Santa surfs into town.”

  “Must have been strange, watching American Christmas movies.”

  I laughed. “Considering we rarely saw snow, yeah.”

  “We’re not much for snow. Just cold.”

  She shivered as the brisk wind riffled through our clothing.

  “You sure you had enough to eat? Once Murphy plays, we’ll need to head out. Or be mobbed.” I scowled, disliking this aspect of fame more than my other bandmates. No more casually taking my girl out for an evening together; this required security and a bloody schedule, no matter how impromptu I’d made it appear for Ryn.

  She patted her belly, which was covered in three or four layers of clothing. “I’m stuffed.”

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “Thanks for coming with me.”

  “Thank you for inviting me. I’m having a great time.”

  She grinned up at me, her eyes clear and full of happiness. I liked seeing her like this—I wanted to ensure she always did. I’d begun to realize my feelings for Ryn had developed before I even saw her—I’d fallen in love with her voice. But then I met her. I liked her, I wanted to spend time with her.

  Kissing Ryn…I hummed in the back of my throat. Best experience in years. Maybe ever.

  She stiffened as a man with a camera popped in front of us on the path, snapping away. Alan moved in from my left side and spoke to the photographer, who nodded and trotted off.

  “Sorry ’bout that. Shouldn’t happen again.”

  She nodded, eyes wary as her brows pulled low. I held my breath, wondering if she’d ask to leave.

  “Dropping off the gifts was fun.” She beamed up at me, letting the bad mood float off on the chilly wind. “Did you see the kids’ faces?”

  “Better than your hot chocolate?” I teased. The Northwest might be health conscious, but that must fly out the window this near the holidays. Her hot chocolate was more like a tub than a cuppa, topped with a massive pile of whipped cream. Ryn put it away like a champ.

  She practically bounced up and down. “Yes. Though the cocoa was fabulous.”

  “Then we’ll find another place to donate some stuff.”

  She stopped walking, so I stopped as well. Her mouth slid into a flat line or seriousness.

  “You don’t need to do that. I don’t want you to think I expect you to do that.”

  Confusion settled over me. “I offered.”

  She blew out a breath. “I’m weirded out by your world. The photographer…you think nothing of dropping hundreds of dollars on kids’ toys, but for most people, that
’s a huge budgetary sacrifice.”

  I wrapped my arm around her waist, needing her closer to me. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  When she tilted her head back and raised her brow, all that long hair spilled over my arm. She appeared feminine but not in a fussy way.

  “You do this album with me, and I’ll let you buy the next round of toys.”

  She laughed shaking her head. “That’s two things that benefit you.”

  I leaned in, unable to resist the opportunity to taste her happiness. The kiss bloomed into passion much too quickly for a public locale. Reluctantly pulling away from her, I said, “How about you do the album, kiss me like that later, and I’ll buy the next round of gifts? Hanukkah ones.”

  “You’re wearing me down.”

  “With my generosity?” I asked, pulling her tighter to my chest once more. Exactly where I wanted her, journos be damned.

  She hummed in agreement. “And your thoughtfulness.”

  “That’s it?”

  “And your kissing skills.”

  Not what I needed to hear whilst standing in the middle of a park, though her words warmed my insides. I took her mitten-clad hand back in mine and squeezed. “Better. Good recovery there. Let’s go find Murphy and Mila.”

  We walked to where Murphy was standing, cuddling Mila, in the shadows of the stage, well behind the glare of the lights. He wore a thick black parka like the people here seemed to prefer and a black knit beanie and gloves. Mila glowed in her pristine white knee-length coat. I smirked, wondering if the color choices were intentional.

  “Jake!” Mila’s face lit up when she saw me, and Ryn stiffened next to me. “You get the prezzies delivered?”

  “Yep. No worries.”

  “I thought you said she’s like a sister,” Ryn muttered.

  Oh. Wow. That sounded like…was she jealous?

  Far as I knew, no woman had ever been jealous over me. I’d seen multiple catfights over Murphy, hell, all my bandmates. But women never fought over me.