The blonde who walked out of the loft on Broone Street was not exceptional in appearance. She was attractive, but not so much that it would draw anyone’s attention. That was just how Rebecca Nelson wanted it. She walked out, her blue eyes carefully inspecting the street on that rainy morning. Seeing that it was clear, she raised her hand, and two men and a woman exited the building and entered the black limo that was waiting at the curb. Rebecca was the last to enter the limo, and it pulled swiftly away.
“Why are you here, Rebecca?” Fitzwilliam Darcy asked as he sipped his mug of green tea.
“Why, to guard you, Darcy,” Rebecca replied frankly. “Hence the term ‘bodyguard.’”
Darcy looked at the woman sitting opposite him. Rachel Brown was tall, leggy, and gorgeous. Unlike Rebecca, it was not in her job description to be unremarkable, something Rachel was quite pleased with. Her long legs flowed out of her short skirt, covered by the long jacket she wore over it. Her hair was long, dark, and wavy and her eyes were the color of a stormy ocean. Darcy asked his personal assistant in a tired voice, “Why is Rebecca here?”
Before Rachel could answer (not that she planned to) Rebecca gave up. “Okay, I’m here for two reasons. One: because you are going on tour tomorrow and you are out of practice moving with your security detail.” Rebecca ignored the way he rolled his eyes. “And two: because you are going on Fuse this afternoon.”
“What?”
Top 20 Countdown was the afternoon program on Fuse that consisted of a pair of affable hosts interviewing music stars and charming fans while counting down top music videos. Darcy hated the program and the hosts for their banality.
Rachel took a deep breath and suggested that they go over his schedule for the day.
“Yes, perhaps we should,” Darcy snapped and took another sip of his tea.
Rachel consulted her BlackBerry and began. “We are going to the studio now to meet with Caro and Charles. Caro has some papers for you to go over. At eleven you are going to see Long Borne Suffering perform. Charles has suggested that the two bands do lunch together.”
“He would,” Darcy muttered to himself.
“At one thirty you have to be at the Fuse studios. Slurry is going to be the first act on Top 20.”
“Did you know about this?” Darcy asked Richard, who had been watching him with amusement.
“Oh yeah. Caro told me Monday,” he nodded.
“Are we scheduled to perform?” Darcy asked Rachel.
Rachel had had enough. “No, you and Juliya are going to glare at each other on live TV for twenty minutes.”
“That’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not,” Rachel answered him flatly. “You are booked to play ‘Lost Myself.’” Charles and Richard will handle all the talking; you can brood in the corner.”
Darcy grew silent for a moment as he thought. “We need a violin for ‘Lost Myself.’”
“Caroline’s hired Kay,” Rachel answered efficiently.
“Kay?”
“She played for the recording and will be at the studio all day for rehearsal,” Rachel answered without looking up.
“How could you forget Kay, Darcy?” Richard said, amazed. “She was that hot redhead. She plays violin and she’s a yoga instructor?”
“And didn’t she totally reject you, Richard?” Rachel asked.
“And that’s why I’m so glad I will get to see her again,”
Richard replied, grinning. “She can’t say no to me forever.”
Darcy was spared listening to any more of this by their arrival. The Studio, as it was called, was a large building that Darcy owned in the middle of 54th Street between 9th and 10th avenues. It was his home base, where he created the music that had made him famous and housed the offices that managed the business of the band.
Darcy waited impatiently until his security expert gave him the okay; then he marched into the building, his long black leather coat flaring out around his tall frame.
Caroline was waiting for him in the offices, examining papers on her desk. As he entered, she looked up and said firmly, “Good morning, Darcy. You are going on Top 20 today. Don’t try to get out of it.”
Darcy resembled an annoyed cat as he growled, “I hate Top 20. I hate the Juliya. I hate Allison. I hate performing like a monkey before all those drooling teenagers.”
“And they hate you,” Caroline replied, then she smiled, “but you are going.” She saw his face settling into his usual sulk and returned her attention to her papers.
“Where is Charles?”
“Watching LBS rehearse,” Caroline answered, expecting the question. “Slurry might want to rehearse as well, being that you haven’t played in three weeks.”
He gave her his trademark glower and walked into his office without comment. Twenty minutes later, Rachel left the office and Caroline was called in. Darcy’s office decor was purely functional. This was where Darcy the businessman reigned. It was a side of him he did not enjoy, so he spent as little time as he could in it. The premium equipment contained in the office was modern and expensive but entirely without soul.
“You have some papers for me?” he said without looking up.
Caroline passed a few folders over. “When are we expected to see the band?” he asked as he flipped through the documents.
“They will call for us when they’re ready,” Caroline answered. She watched him as he worked, waiting. Whether he was being Darcy the businessman or Fitzwilliam the artist, it was her job to wait on him, which she did with a loyalty that went beyond her job description. Luckily for her, Caroline was patient. She would wait for him forever.
The ringing of the phone interrupted her musings. Caroline reached across the desk for it when she saw that Darcy wasn’t moving. “Yes? Okay, we will be right there.”
She hung up and told Darcy, “They’re ready for us.”
He nodded and led the way to the next floor. They stopped at the smaller studio, where they found Richard talking to a beautiful petite woman holding a violin. “Will,” he said, a charming smile on his face, “you remember Kay, don’t you?”
In fact, Darcy did not remember her at all, although he did have to admit she was quite beautiful, and he found the knowledge that she taught yoga momentarily intriguing. He shook the lady’s hand then led Richard away to the larger studio. He found Charles waiting by the door. “Will! Richard! Wait till you see them; they’re wonderful!” he bubbled and led the way into the large rehearsal area.
Darcy found it difficult to credit Charles’s objectivity, but he had confidence in the band. He turned to look at them and blinked. For a moment he hadn’t recognized the trio.
Jane was the least altered, and it was she whom Darcy latched onto first. Her hair was now platinum blonde and her makeup was improved, with dark red lipstick, pale skin, and highly arched brows. On her left wrist she wore a length of rhinestone bracelets, her right arm free to play her instrument. She was wearing a red halter top that showed off her fine shoulders and her flat stomach. Her hips were circled by a white belt that was holding up a pair of low-slung jeans, which were peppered with rhinestones.
Charlotte was behind her drum kit, but Darcy could see her from where he stood. Her hair was even shorter now and had been dyed a dark turquoise blue, so it looked more like the feathers of an exotic bird than hair. Her makeup was dark, emphasizing her eyes. She wore a white tank top and black plastic bands around her wrists, exposing the colorful tattoo on her upper right arm.
But Elizabeth really captured Darcy’s attention. He dimly heard Charles announce, “Ladies and gentlemen, Long Borne Suffering,” as he watched her. She flashed a coy smile to the small audience and she began playing her acoustic guitar. She was wearing black leather pants that laced closed and a vibrant red shirt that clung to every curve. Her hair, which Darcy was sure he had never seen down before, was long and loose around her shoulders, its soft waves showing off the red highlights in the rich warm brown. It looked like she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all, but her eyes were huge and vivid and her lips full and red. The only jewelry she wore was a large silver pendant that hung between her breasts.
As striking as her appearance was, his attention was totally captured when she started to sing. Her voice was dark, rich, and full. Low and sexy, he wasn’t sure he had even heard the lyrics. Darcy found himself trapped in her eyes. They were so large and bright, challenging him with intelligence; he realized she was staring straight at him as she began her next verse.
Darcy could tell she was singing to him and he could not withdraw from her. His eyes devoured every inch of her as she strutted confidently over the stage area, her body swaying in a way that spoke of both sexuality and self-possession. He remained perfectly still until the song was over, when Jane immediately started the next one without a pause.
Hearing Elizabeth’s sister broke his trance, but he watched her still, fascinated. Darcy was struck by the differences in the two women. Jane’s voice expressed innocence while Elizabeth’s spoke of experience. Elizabeth played along with Jane’s singing, adding her voice for backup but completely comfortable with sharing the spotlight. Back and forth between the two women the performance went, ending thirty minutes later with Jane’s “Everything You Are.”
When they were done, Darcy approached Elizabeth directly. “You can sing,” he said in a tone of disbelief.
“Yes,” Elizabeth replied, her voice puzzled. “I sing and play guitar.”
“I had no idea,” Darcy said softly.
“Didn’t,” Elizabeth frowned and started over, “didn’t you hear us perform at Meryton?”
“Yes, but you didn’t sing there.”
“Yes I did!” she protested. “If you missed me, you must have come really late to the show.”
Darcy began to get the uncomfortable feeling that he was making a fool of himself. Stiffly he replied, “Yes, we were late that evening.”
“But didn’t you listen to our CD?”
“No, I did not,” he answered her haughtily. “Frankly, it doesn’t matter to me what you sound like in a studio. We needed a band who could play live.”
“And what do you think?” Elizabeth asked him, her eyes demanding an immediate answer from him.
He stared at her for a beat. “I’ve told you before, Elizabeth, you’re very talented.”
“Darcy! Elizabeth! We’re going out to lunch to celebrate.” Elizabeth jerked, as if startled by Charles’s voice. She looked away from Darcy to the safety of her friends.
“No, Charles, I’m going to stay here,” he demurred. “I want to practice.”
“Will!” Richard protested. “Come on! We’re going to get Indian.”
Darcy refused, despite the protests of his friends. Finally, Caroline offered to bring him back something and the group moved out in a noisy cheerful mass.
Darcy shut the door, opened the case to his Paul Reid Smith, and plugged it in. For the next forty minutes, he played without thinking, processing emotions he didn’t care to examine or understand in the way he knew how. He felt troubled and frustrated, and he sought release of these feelings in the privacy of his music. His eyes closed and his breathing grew deeper as he focused on the sensations in his hands. His fingers moved of their own volition, without thought. They gently loved the instrument, caressing the strings, squeezing them tightly then releasing them, his fingertips dancing over the frets to cause the silver strands to vibrate at the rate he desired. The music that came out of this communication between man and guitar would never be heard by another soul. It was his alone. It was a song of yearning, but even he could not name it as such. He just knew the music was him at that particular moment in time.
He stopped, slightly dazed, when the door opened and Caroline walked in. “I knew I would find you here,” she said indulgently. She placed a white paper bag on the table. “The others will be back in a moment. Now unplug, eat, and get changed.”
Darcy looked at her, his eyes expressing the gratitude his words never would. “Thank you, Caro,” he said simply.
With a nod, Caroline left the room, satisfied.
It was twenty minutes after one when Darcy walked into the office area. He was wearing skintight black leather pants, a loose white linen shirt that was left mostly unbuttoned, and boots. “Where’s Charles?” he asked, looking around.
Caroline could just see the edge of the tattoo on his left breast. “You are wearing a shirt?”
“Are you disappointed?”
“I’m heartbroken.”
Darcy’s eyes expressed annoyance. “Caroline.” She grinned when he used her full name. “Despite what you and every other woman in this building thinks, I do not go shirtless for your viewing pleasure.”
Caroline tilted her head skeptically and folded her arms across her chest.
“It’s very hot under the stage lights and I hate having anything binding my arms when I play,” he said in a low tone that was not to be challenged.
Caroline resisted the urge to comment on the fact that Darcy didn’t seem to mind having anything on his arms when he was rehearsing and moved on. “Sorry, Darcy. Charles is probably watching the video shoot.”
Darcy regarded her carefully and then shut the office door. “What do you think of them?”
She had been expecting the question. She valued her role as Darcy’s confidant and made a rule of being prepared for anything he might ask. “LBS?” she shrugged indifferently. “I like them. I mean, they are green and a little young—”
“They’re our age,” he disagreed calmly.
“You know what I mean. Jane invited us for Sunday dinner, for goodness sakes,” she grinned and shook her head. “Still, they’re smart and professional. I haven’t had a single complaint from them. They aren’t whiny divas or anything. You can’t know until we are on the road, but I think they’re going to work out.”
“Have you been watching them?” he asked softly.
“Oh yeah.”
“Are they clean?”
Caroline nodded. “Cleaner than we are, at least,” she shrugged.
“What about Charles? He’s all over them.”
“I wish I could tell you that it’s just Charles being friendly.”
“What about Jane?”
Caroline sighed. “Yeah, I know. I don’t know what we can do about it. Just have to hope…” Her voice trailed off, leaving all her worries unspoken. “Frankly, I’m surprised. She’s not really his type. He usually goes for high-maintenance exotics.”
“Don’t remind me,” Darcy frowned, tiredly. “All right, we need to get going.”
“Have a great time. I’m not coming,” Caroline said simply.
“Why not?” Darcy asked suspiciously.
“Faust just called from Austin. It seems one of the big lighting boards has gone missing.”
“Do we have a backup?”
“Of course. But Faust is really hoping we can still find it. According to him, the house manager down there couldn’t find his asshole with a flashlight.”
“Faust would never say that.”
“He didn’t, but that was the general message,” Caroline shrugged. “If we have to use the backup board he will be up all night programming it. The backup board belongs to the house and our software won’t talk to it. I need to stay here and man the fort.”
“Will you have to fly down early? Should I cancel Top 20?” he asked hopefully.
“No, Faust can handle it. My going down a day early won’t help anything, and I need to stay here and make sure you do what you’re supposed to,” she added with a meaningful look.
The phone rang. Darcy knew who it was and was moving toward the doorway even as she hung up. “That was Rebecca. They are waiting for you out front.”
“Bye, Caro,” he sulked as he left the room.
Caroline grinned privately to herself as she went back to work.
Elizabeth looked at her bags. They looked disturbingly small, considering how long she was going to be away from home. Her personal belongings had been packed into two suitcases and a carry-on that she would be living out of for the next three months.
Her costumes and instruments were already packed on the plane. Her beloved guitars had been taken from her arms and were now part of the Grind Tour freight. It bothered her to not have her babies where she could see them. She longed to hold her Taylor acoustic. It would soothe her nerves to play it.
Although she knew she should be trying to sleep, Elizabeth was simply too unsettled to lie down. Every day this week had brought completely new experiences to her; at times it had been overwhelming. The long train ride home each day had been her time to examine and process her thoughts and calm herself. Jane and Charlotte had seemed to understand, sitting quietly on the train beside her.
But today had been different. Perhaps it was the performance for Slurry or the video shoot, but today the train ride had not been enough to quiet her mind. She was a wild mixture of emotions inside: excitement and pleasure being periodically dampened by a swirl of fear, worry, and anger.
A hiss escaped from her chest as she remembered again her conversation with Darcy. Arrogant prick! First the jerk stared at her throughout the whole concert, so much so that even Charlotte noticed it from the other side of the room, then he came down on her because he didn’t know she sang? What the hell was his problem? She clenched her teeth together as his brooding face appeared before her eyes.
Jane entered the room through the open door, sat on the bed, and said in a singsong voice, “I know what you’re thinking.”
Elizabeth exhaled in an annoyed snort, then grinned. She was grateful that Jane understood her so well. “What did I ever do to him?” she asked with genuine curiosity mixed with the annoyance in her voice.
Jane shrugged. “Charles said he is just uncomfortable around strangers,” she replied kindly as her hand absently played with her hair.
Elizabeth let go of her anger and switched tracks in her mind. She smiled at Jane. “You and Charles seem to be spending quite a bit of time together. Tell me about him.”
Jane’s forehead creased in thought. “You have been there every time we’ve met,” she paused, and then grinned, “except the first time.”
“And when you two picked up lunch for everyone on Wednesday, and the tour of the studio he gave you on Tuesday, and…”
“All right!” Jane conceded Elizabeth’s point with a smile. “We have been talking, but it’s not like we have been sharing any big secrets. He is just so nice and charming. I really like being around him.”
“And he’s cute,” Elizabeth teased.
“Oh, he’s gorgeous! What do you mean cute?” Jane objected playfully. “Lizzy, he is so beautiful,” she moaned wistfully. “But so far, he has just been friendly around me, that’s all.”
Elizabeth did her best “worried mother” impression. “Oh-ho! You’ll see. Just wait. He’s waiting till he can get you alone on the tour. Then he’s going to sully you and leave you desperate and ruined on the side of the road!”
Elizabeth and Jane laughed at the very idea. Then Elizabeth grew quiet and looked at her sister thoughtfully. “Be careful, Jane,” Elizabeth said quietly. “You tend to see only the good in people. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Jane hugged her sister tightly. “No one is going to get hurt! Nothing is going to happen between Charles and me, Lizzy. He is a famous rock star and who am I?” She released Elizabeth to look in her face. “Besides, we have each other, you, me, and Charlotte. We’re going to look out for each other and have a wonderful time. Right?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Right. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“’Night, Lizzy,” Jane said softly as she left the room.
Elizabeth crawled into her bed. She forced herself to stop worrying about last-minute things she might have forgotten to pack, resolving that whatever she had left behind, she would either get new on the road or have sent to her.
To distract her mind, she thought about her performance. In her mind, she went over the songs she had drilled over and over again for the last two weeks. But her thoughts betrayed her attempts to settle them, quickly giving way to the tall man who had been watching her today. Even his intensely good looks were not enough to soften her feelings about him. He rankled her, like an itch she couldn’t reach to scratch, mostly because she couldn’t figure him out. Elizabeth had always prided herself on her ability to read people, but Darcy simply confused her. He was nothing like his reputation for a wild man. In fact, she was certain she had never met a more uptight, arrogant man in her life. If there was going to be any trouble on the tour, it would be coming from him.