Part 3 (1/2)

”Bennett. Chaili Bennett. I went to school with Marc. And you are...?”

”Chaili...” The man blinked. Glanced past her to study Marc. ”Is this Shera's Chaili?”

”No. I'm my own Chaili,” she interjected before Marc could respond. Turning around, she caught Marc's gaze. ”I believe this gentlemen would like a word with you.” She was rather torn, because she was supposed to stay at his side and keep the tramps and fans and groupies away from him. But she also didn't plan to stand there and be insulted. ”Would you like me to wait for you at the entrance to the gardens?”

”No,” Marc growled. Just the sound of his voice, gruffer than normal, had goose b.u.mps breaking out over her flesh, and this time she couldn't suppress the s.h.i.+ver. He saw it and scowled. ”You're cold.”

She wasn't about to deny it, even though the temperature had nothing to do with her s.h.i.+vering. She couldn't exactly say, Marc, your voice just turns me on, that's the problem. ”I'm fine,” she hedged, ignoring the other man.

”We'll go inside...after I apologize for Caleb. I'm sorry, Chaili.”

She rolled her eyes. ”Why? You weren't the one calling me a b.i.t.c.h.”

”No, he wasn't,” Caleb said, moving closer, this time taking a position where she either had to look at him or turn her head. She met his gaze square on.

Chaili wasn't a short woman. In her bare feet, she was just a hair under five foot ten and with the heels she'd worn, she was right at six foot one. That put her eye to eye with this guy. She held his stare for a minute and then looked back at Marc. ”You don't need to apologize for anybody, Marc.”

”I do...if I'm the reason he's doing it,” Marc said tiredly. He shot Caleb a sour look. ”When I said he was my handler, I wasn't entirely joking. We've got an...arrangement, of sorts. I've had a few issues at these parties. He took it personally after one of them got ugly. He's just trying to make sure it doesn't happen again.”

If Chaili hadn't had a few ideas just what sort of things Marc had dealt with, she might have asked. But she knew. She'd seen a few of them, back before he'd stopped coming home so much. Seeing the discomfort written on his face, she hooked her arm through his. ”Don't worry about it, okay?”

”But I-”

”Chaili, I would like to apologize,” Caleb said quietly.

She glanced over at him, met the direct gaze of his pale eyes. Sighing, she waved her hand. ”Fine. Apology accepted.”

He grinned at her, his teeth a white flash. ”Now, I haven't exactly apologized...yet. I'm sorry, Chaili. I can't say I'm sorry for taking my...handling job so seriously, but I do know you're friends. Marc has mentioned your name. Often. I am sorry. If I'd known...well. That's not the point. I insulted you and I'm sorry.”

”Accepted.” She looked back at Marc. ”Now can we go in?” She'd like to go back to where they had been, try to find that brief bit of magic they'd found. They'd used to be able to talk for hours. She could remember times when she'd listened to him playing, practicing his music, working on new songs...she missed that. A lot.

”I'd rather stay out here,” Marc said, shooting Caleb a look.

”You won't want to.” No sooner had he said the words than a woman's soft, throaty contralto echoed through night. ”I heard her talking about hunting you down. She wants you to play. A bunch of others are thinking it's a fine idea.”

Marc groaned.

”Who is it?”

”A girl I dated for a while,” he muttered. Not exactly an ex. He had that much sense, realizing she was bad news, but she'd been persistent and when she saw him earlier... He'd almost seen that maniacal gleam in her eyes again.

Caleb gestured to the right. ”Head that way. Keep to the hedge. And not that I'm offering advice or anything, but if it were me, maybe what I'd do is go ahead and play. If you get to the piano and sit down before she finds you? You'll be surrounded by people before she gets back in there.” Caleb flashed him another wicked grin. ”Especially since I plan on telling her I saw you back around the pool house.”

”And if I don't want to play?” Marc stared at him.

Caleb rolled his eyes. ”You always want to play.”

”He's got a point, Marc.” Next to him, Chaili laughed and tugged on his wrist. ”Come on. I haven't heard you play in ages. Maybe you could just pretend you're back at your old place, playing the way you used to.”

Playing the way you used to...

Marc sat at the piano, stroked his fingers down the keys. It was a Fazioli. He'd played on them before, although he still preferred a Steinway. That had been the first piano he'd played on. It had been in middle school. When all his friends were playing the drums or a guitar, he'd been on an electric keyboard and then his mom had actually managed to find him that old upright Steinway at an estate sale, one she still kept at her place for him. He loved that piano.

He glanced up at Chaili to ask what she wanted him to play but she wasn't there. Scowling, he glanced around and saw that she was in the crowd. Holding out a hand, he waited until she sat down next to him. ”What do you want me to play?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

If he was going to pretend he was playing the way he used to, for himself, for his friends, then he was doing just that.

She c.o.c.ked her head and then smiled, leaned in. ”'Walking in Memphis'.”

”'Walking in Memphis'...” He hung his head, groaning. ”Chaili, how many times have you made me sing that song? I was thinking about one of mine, you know.”

She grinned at him. ”Oh, that was just the first. I plan on making you sing 'True Believer' next.”

”You and that song.” Smiling, he laid his hands on the keys, closed his eyes. Whether it was his song or not...it was a magic one. Cohn, the singer and songwriter who'd written it had created pure gold with that one. Marc could understand why she loved it so much.

As he neared the end, he lifted his lashes, glanced over at Chaili. She was swaying, a strange little smile on her lips. As he came to the line...

And I sang with all my might...

He could hear her singing along with him. He might have asked her to sing louder, but he knew she wouldn't want to. She never did much care for that. Still, he liked listening to her. He'd play again and have her sing with him when it was just them...then he realized he was thinking about spending more time with her.

A lot more...

The song ended and he made himself stop thinking, giving himself up to the music.

He did ”True Believer” next, the song that had gotten him his big break. From there, he didn't bother asking, he just played. He forgot about the people around him. The only one who mattered was Chaili. From the corner of his eye, he glanced her way and his heart banged against his ribs as he realized she was watching his hands.

Seriously watching his hands. Almost the same way he'd been watching her mouth, he suspected. And there was a gla.s.sy little glint in her eyes- Hunger burned in his gut, a terrible little knot that was taking on a life of its own.

He wanted Chaili. He'd managed to bash s.e.xual hunger into submission over the past few years, letting it out in controlled, very controlled bursts, but this was...f.u.c.k.

This was gutting him.

A discordant chord filled the air and it jolted him back to reality. The song was nearly over anyway and he finished, pushed back and held out his hand to Chaili. They were leaving. He didn't know where they were going-he'd take her home if she insisted, but what he really wanted to do was take her to his place.

Take her there...and then take her, d.a.m.n it.

Is this smart?

It was the calm, rational little voice in his head, the one he usually ignored.

This is Chaili...a friend. And not just any friend. She matters more than most...right?

Yes.

She did. It was almost enough to make him stop. Almost.