pussy that tasted sweeter than honey, and was really good at sharing. Had she come back to the bus for another orgy? Kellen was not interested. He’d find a hotel to hole up in for the night if that was the case. Besides, the guys were more involved with relationships than they had been six months ago. Surely they didn’t plan to compromise something important for a piece of hot and willing tail.
Kellen decided he’d go straight to the bus. Maybe after he got his head on straight, he’d head back to Galveston to apologize to Dawn for being a cowardly bastard. But that wouldn’t happen tonight. He could only stand so much confusion and heartache in one twenty-four-hour period.
The drive to Beaumont was uneventful. His churning thoughts kept him company. He thought about Dawn. And he thought about Sara. But mostly he cursed himself for not bringing his cellphone charger. He spends one night away from the band, and Owen sees fit to call him seven times to talk about some groupie. Kellen knew he wouldn’t do that unless it was something important. Had she given them all some incurable disease? Kellen hadn’t slept with her, but he had eaten her out.
Kellen parked near the venue where the band and crew were getting ready for the concert and headed toward the bus, prepared for the worst. But nothing could have prepared him for what he saw standing at the top of the bus steps.
Her hair was swept back from her lovely face in a loose ponytail. Her brilliant blue eyes sparked with recognition as a smile spread across her soft, sensual lips. She rested a hand on her obviously distended belly and offered him a small wave.
She was pregnant and beautiful and very much alive.
“Sara?” he whispered, clutching the doorframe so he didn’t collapse into a heap on the asphalt.
Chapter Ten
Dawn shoved the pillow off her head and blinked in the bright sunshine streaming through the open blinds of her bedroom. It had to be close to noon. Why was she still so exhausted? She smiled as memories of the night she’d shared with Kellen filtered through her thoughts. She couldn’t wait to add to her pleasant experiences today. She was a bit disappointed to find his side of the bed empty, but she vaguely recalled him murmuring her name to awaken her and her foolishly demanding coffee. Who needed coffee with that man as her wake-up call? She’d just been a bit groggy and obviously out of her mind. She was wide awake now. Still naked, she slipped out of bed and padded down the hall to the stairs.
“Kellen,” she called down into the foyer below. “I changed my mind. I don’t need coffee. I just need you.”
When he didn’t answer, she continued down the stairs. “Kellen, come out, come out, wherever you are.”
She entered the kitchen and noticed a full carafe of coffee sitting untouched in the coffee maker. The power was obviously back on. It had been sweet of him to make coffee for her, but why hadn’t he rejoined her in bed once he’d finished making it?
“Kellen, are you down here?” she called, peeking over the breakfast bar into the family room, where the piano sat as silent as a stone. Bits of rope littered the piano’s lid and the floor. Dawn smiled. She would always remember the feel of it pressing into her skin and opening her eyes to truths she hadn’t recognized about herself. It was a shame that the rope had been cut and was now unusable. She wondered if there was any spare rope in the garage beneath the house. If not, she was all about making a trip to the nearest hardware store for supplies.
She wasn’t sure where Kellen had wandered off to. Maybe he was in the bathroom, or maybe he’d taken a walk on the beach. She always found the most interesting goodies washed up on the shore after a storm. She completely understood the draw of the water. She turned back to the kitchen. When she opened a cabinet, she noticed the broken mug in the sink. She picked up a large shard of ceramic and caught sight of the big yellow house next door. Kellen’s house, she realized with a smile. She looked again at the broken mug, at the full coffee carafe. At Kellen’s house. Her smile faded. Sara’s house, she corrected herself.
Shit. He’d left, hadn’t he? Saw that gorgeous, empty house across the way, started thinking about her again—Sara—and ran away.
Even after all they’d shared the night before, he still hadn’t given up that other woman. What a jerk! If all he’d wanted from her was sex, he could have just been straight with her. He didn’t have to pretend to be so wonderful. She was a big girl. And even though her heart was aching so badly she could scarcely breathe and her lower lip was trembling uncontrollably, Dawn was not going to cry over this. She refused to let a single tear fall. She kicked a lower cabinet as hard as she could and winced when her toe exploded with pain.
“Damn him,” she muttered. “He could have at least had the decency to tell me to my face that he wasn’t interested.”
Determined to have a great day despite the dark cloud that was suddenly obscuring her sunshine from the inside out, Dawn poured herself a cup of coffee and went to sulk—contemplate life—at her piano. She righted the piano bench, which had been overturned during all those wonderfully sensual activities she refused to dwell upon, and plopped down. She dribbled coffee down her bare front when she noticed Kellen’s handwritten note.
She snatched it from the music stand and read it three times before crumpling it into a ball and tossing it on the floor.
“Entertaining evening,” she muttered under her breath. “Was that what it was to you? Because it was magical to me, you ass!” She didn’t know why she was yelling at her piano, but it felt right. “You’re sorry it didn’t work out between us. How could it work out? You didn’t even give it a chance. I hope you choke on your guitar.” She wasn’t sure why he’d have his guitar in his mouth, but she wasn’t thinking clearly enough to come up with better ill wishes.
She turned sideways on the bench and pulled her legs up against her body, hugging both shins and burying her face against her bent knees. She was not going to cry over him. Not going to cry. Those hot, wet droplets coming from her eyes and running down her thighs were not tears. Nope. Not crying for a guy who’d love another woman until the day he died. Not crying over a man who had taken a chance with her but decided he’d rather return to a dead girl. She sniffed. She really wished she could hate him for that, but it just broke her heart.
When she decided she’d wallowed in misery long enough, she turned to her piano and practiced her new song. Kellen’s song. She would always think of it as Kellen’s song, even if she did name it “Dawn.” She began to feel better almost at once. The joyful melody lifted her spirits until her tears were forgotten and she was smiling to herself. She had to call her agent. He had to hear this song.
She dialed his number and had his secretary patch her through. As soon as she had him on the line, she interrupted his usual, “Any luck?” As if luck had anything to do with composing.
“Listen,” she said and put him on speaker phone so he could hear her. She played the piece from beginning to end. When the last note rang out, she stared at the phone, her heart hammering with excitement. The song was wonderful. Perfect. She knew it was. But she had to hear it from someone who would give it to her straight. “Well?”
There was a long pause. “I… I’m speechless,” he said.
What? Speechless? What did that mean? “Thanks for sharing. But is the song any good?”
“It’s phenomenal. I almost hate to hand it over. It’s too good to be closing credit music for some movie.”
“But it will be heard, Wes. Well, by those who stay for the credits, at least. I’m just glad I finally wrote something worth listening to.”
“You’re too hard on yourself, Dawn. Everything you write is inspired.”
She rolled her eyes. He thought that because he only ever heard her finished pieces. He’d never heard her bang out angry renditions of “Chopsticks” because it sounded better than the crap she was coming up with.
“So do you think you could get me an extra few days on my deadline? It’s finished, but I haven’t exactly written it down yet.”
“So write it
down now.”
“I have something important that I need to do today,” she said and before her impetuous mouth had even completed the sentence, she knew it was true.
“More important than keeping a movie studio happy?”
“Yeah. Much more important than that. Have you ever heard of the band Sole Regret?”
“The metal band out of Austin nominated for best new artist Grammy last year?”
She knew Wes would have heard of them. “That’s them.”
“I don’t know them, but I do have business connections with their manager. Why?”
Wes knew everyone in the music business either directly or by some outside contact. He loved to drop names. “I need to be on the VIP list for their show in Beaumont, Texas tonight. Can you make it happen?”
“Can you fax me a rough draft of your masterpiece in the next hour so I can get this producer off my back?”
She sighed loudly. “Yes, I’ll fax you a rough draft.”
“I’ll make your groupie wishes a reality then.”
“I’m not a groupie,” she said testily.
“Oh. Are you writing music for them now?”
“No, I’m not writing their music. They’re kind of out of my genre, don’t you think?”
“Groupie,” he teased in a high-pitched voice.
“Watch it, Wes. I know where you live.”
“As soon as I have that rough draft in my hand, I’ll get you on the list.”
She grinned because she knew he’d deliver for her. “Slave driver,” she muttered.
“Virtuoso,” he countered.
“You really suck at insults, Bloodsucking Agent.”
“And you really suck at lying, Groupie.”
“Expect a fax in an hour,” she said, already scribbling down notes as fast as her hand could move.
“I’ll pull all the right strings in the meantime. Great work, doll. I think there’s an Academy Award in your future.”
Dawn paused to glare at the crumpled note on the floor. “Yeah, you aren’t the first to make that prediction today. I’m just glad the song is finally done.”
“And I’m glad you’re a groupie.” He laughed, and she could picture his overly white teeth gleaming in his overly tanned face. “We’ll talk soon.”
He hung up before she could reach into the phone and choke him. Groupie? How could she be a groupie if she’d never even heard Sole Regret’s music? She just needed closure or an opening—one or the other and preferably the latter. She wasn’t sure if Kellen would even talk to her, but she had to try. She had to find out why he’d left and if he had any interest in her beyond one amazing night. But first she had to get their song on paper and then she should probably consider putting on some clothes. While she was pretty sure Kellen would understand her need to be naked today, the public probably wouldn’t be so understanding.
Chapter Eleven
“Are you okay?” Sara said as she trotted down the steps, stopping on the bottom one so that it was impossible not to notice her belly. She patted Kellen’s shoulder. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Not Sara, he told himself. Lindsey. The girl Owen had been talking about on the phone before they’d been disconnected. She’s not Sara. Yeah, tell that to all the hairs on the back of his neck, which were standing on end.
He took a deep breath and clenched his shaking hands into fists.
“Where’s Owen?” Kellen asked, staring at her pregnant abdomen and doing mental math. Could it be… Was this what Owen had been trying to tell him about? No. Not possible.
“I think he’s talking to her again,” Lindsey-not-Sara said. He glanced up in time to catch her rolling her pretty blue eyes. “It was good seeing you.” She kissed his cheek and stepped off the final step. “If anyone is looking for me, I’m going to buy some food. I swear, how do you guys live like this?”
Still dumbfounded, he watched her walk over to Jordan, who was taking one of his hundreds of daily breaks, and with a few bats of her eyelashes and rubs of her belly, Jordan was on his feet and escorting her to the rental car he was responsible for returning. Completely transfixed, Kellen watched her get into the car. Lindsey really was a beauty. She definitely rivaled Sara, but was no comparison to Dawn.
Shit. He couldn’t let himself think about Dawn right now.
Kellen climbed the bus steps and spotted Owen sitting at the dining table and staring intently at his iPad. He looked up when Kellen slid into the booth across from him. He smiled.
“So you’re back. Have you given up on blue balls permanently or was it a temporary thing?”
“Had to be temporary.”
“Had to be?”
Kellen nodded curtly. He didn’t want Dawn to have to deal with his baggage. He had to forget her so she would forget him. “So Lindsey…”
“She’s around her somewhere.” Owen flicked his wrist at the expansive bus cabin.
“Yeah, I saw her. Is she…” Kellen’s eyebrows lifted.
“Pregnant?” Owen nodded and went slightly pale. “Yeah. She thinks it’s mine.”
“Yours? But you wore a condom when you did her; how could it be yours?”
“Well, it’s someone’s from that night, assuming she isn’t lying about not screwing some other dude after she finished with her Sole Regret band and crew orgy. When I left you alone to untie her, you didn’t do anything with her, did you?”
“No.” He hadn’t been inside a woman for five years. Until Dawn.
Shit. He couldn’t let himself think about Dawn right now.
“I didn’t think so. Just making sure.”
But Kellen had come on Lindsey’s belly, so he supposed it was possible that in all the groping and fondling and fucking, some mighty Kellen sperm had somehow gotten inside of her. Possible, but not likely. Still, he felt he was going to throw up. What if it was his? What would he do? He could never bring himself to hook up with some girl he didn’t feel a connection with just because she was the mother of his child, but he wouldn’t be like his asshole of a father. He wouldn’t leave the mother to fend for herself and ignore the existence of his own child until seeing his flesh and blood served his own purpose or agenda or whatever the fuck had made his father reach out to him after sixteen years of no contact. More than never meeting the fucktard, Kellen regretted not telling him what a worthless piece of shit he was when he’d had the chance. He didn’t want Lindsey’s unborn baby to ever have to feel that level of rejection.
“I figured you’d be smiling more,” Owen said.
Kellen looked at Owen as if he was doing the Chicken Dance. Again. Why would he be smiling? This situation had the potential to fuck up someone’s life in a pretty major way.
“About Lindsey being pregnant?” Kellen asked.
“About getting laid. Tell me about her. I can’t wait to meet her. I’m assuming she has blond hair and blue eyes.” Owen rolled his eyes at Kellen’s presumed predictability.
Kellen shook his head. “Redhead. That deep, dark red shade. Almost burgundy. And her eyes are hazel, with pretty flecks the color of spring leaves.”
Owen snorted and burst out laughing. “I forgot how corny you get.”
“Corny? What do you mean?”
“When you like a girl. You become the reincarnation of John Keats or some shit. So is she gorgeous? She must be to get your dick out of your pants.”
“Stunning. And you’ve seen her before,” Kellen said.
Owen went another shade paler. “I didn’t fuck her, did I?”
“No. Believe it or not, there are still women out there who haven’t taken a bareback ride on your lap.”
Owen winked. “Are you sure?”
Kellen nodded. “A few.”
“So if I didn’t fuck her, where did I see her?”
“At the Grammy’s last year.”
“Oh God, did I say something stupid to her?” Now Owen looked like he needed a tanning session. “I was so wasted that night.”
And he probab
ly didn’t remember the elegant beauty who’d graced the stage to accept an award for best instrumental composition.
“She won a Grammy for one of her compositions. She plays piano. And she had no idea who we are, but she remembered us getting thrown out for your air-horn incident and heckling the rapper who got our award.”
Owen cringed. “Yeah, that was pretty obnoxious. I apparently thought I was attending a hockey game. Why’d you guys let me drink so much?”
Kellen chuckled. “We all drank that much. You’re the only one who couldn’t hold his liquor.”
Owen raised fingers one at a time as he said, “So gorgeous