Beautiful Scars Part 3

"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.

But the hunger inside him was a monster.

Chapter Three.

Chaili couldn't even explain how she'd managed to get here.

Staring out over Lake Michigan, she swallowed the knot in her throat and tried to make herself breathe.

She shouldn't read anything into this.

Chaili knew that.

They'd had a nice night, talking. She'd gotten to spend a little bit of time with a man she'd loved for...always. Now he was just trying to...what? Unwind? She knew he hated those parties, knew he hated the crowds. Back in school, people had always thought he was borderline antisocial. She'd known better. People either frustrated him or just made him nervous. And now, so many of them expected things from him, expected him to be somebody he just wasn't.

That's what it was, she decided. He could be himself around her and that was why he'd brought her back here. That made sense, right? Yes. That explained- "Here."

The rough, raw silk of his voice sc.r.a.ped over her senses and she all but whimpered as she turned around to face him. He held a gla.s.s of wine in his hand. She hesitated before reaching for it.

He grinned. "It's okay...you've got the same taste in syrup...um...I mean wine that my sister does. I bought it for her."

"Hey, it's not syrup." She took the gla.s.s and lifted it to her lips, took a small sip then sighed, smiling at the sweet, rather delightful taste. "Oh...that's good. What is it?"

"Elderberry mead. I found it at a winery a few hours from here when I was out driving around a while back."

"I like it. I need to see the bottle so I can go stockpile it." Not that she'd be able to drink much of it, but man...that was nice. She took another sip, closing her eyes and humming a little after she'd swallowed it. "I think the second taste is better than the first one."

"Let me try."

She opened her eyes and held the gla.s.s out to him. He took it, tried a sip and made a face. "It's not as bad as some. Come on." He continued to hold the gla.s.s as he caught her hand. "Grab the bottle, will you?"

"Where are we going?" she asked, trailing along behind him. The floor felt cool under her feet. She'd kicked off her shoes and the silk stockings she wore weren't much protection.

"I want to play some more." Over his shoulder, he glanced at her. "Is it okay?"

She arched a brow. "A private concert...with Mr. Marc Archer? You think I'm going to say no?"

"Smart a.s.s."

The lights were off in the studio but he didn't bother to turn them on. She wished he'd turn them on, though...it was easier to pretend this all didn't feel terribly intimate. Terribly romantic...terribly seductive.

"Pour some more wine?" he said as they sat at the piano.

She swallowed, her throat dry...tight.

"Should I go get another gla.s.s?" she asked, pleased to hear that her voice wasn't shaking.

"No. We can share, right?" He took a sip and then laid his hands on the keys of the piano.

Chaili closed her eyes and then m.u.f.fled a groan as he went straight into "True Believer".

"Make a believer out of me..."

His words sank deep into her soul, wrapping around her and pulling her in. He was seducing her and he didn't even know it.

He could have kept on playing, just for her. Forever. He'd forgotten how amazing it was to do this. Playing for himself was always good. Playing for his fans...yeah, he loved that.

But there was something magic about sitting there in the dark and playing for her.

It was almost like he could talk to her through the music, and even though she said nothing back, he could hear her answer just in the way she moved, the way she smiled.

And it had always been like this, he realized.

Chaili seemed to find almost the same pleasure in the music that he did.

That same little smile bowed her pretty mouth up and she swayed, one hand curled around the wine gla.s.s, the other tapping out a rhythm on her thigh.

He had an image of catching the hem of her skirt. Pus.h.i.+ng it up. Okay...that wasn't anything that had happened before tonight. But he had a feeling he'd be thinking hot and dirty thoughts about her for a long, long time after this. h.e.l.l, he was wondering why he hadn't done it before.

Closing his eyes, he tried to focus back on the music, but he couldn't block her out.

It was all there, twining through his mind. The raw, powerful vibe of the music. The song. The image of his hands on her thighs. Pus.h.i.+ng that pretty skirt up. Catching the silken hose she wore and dragging them down, her panties...leaving her naked under that skirt. Then he'd play a little while longer. Just a little while, as he thought about her being naked under that elegant little white dress.

Get a grip, Marc. Or you're going to lose it before you even get started...

Get started. Was he actually thinking of trying to do this...

h.e.l.l, yes.

He must have lost his mind somewhere in the time he'd seen her standing in the office of Escorte and when he'd started playing for her back at the party, but he had every intention of having a taste of her. Just once, he thought. They were friends, right? They could have a night of nice, friendly s.e.x and then go back to being friends...

Yes, because that had worked so well before.

Stop it, man. This isn't Lily. It won't happen that way. And if you can't get that through your head, you need to just take her home now, he told himself.

No. She wasn't Lily.

And he'd be d.a.m.ned if he took her home just yet. Unless that was what she wanted.

Clearing his throat, he took the gla.s.s of wine from her. "Ah...are you wanting to head home or you wanna hang around a while?"

She slid him a smile as she took the gla.s.s of wine back. "Hey, you played me one song. That does not a concert make."

Hot d.a.m.n.