Chapter 67

Jon snapped off the last of his thumbnail as the limo pulled into her parking lot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually had a real date. Okay, so it wasn’t technically a date, but whatever the fuck it was, he was pretty sure his guts were going to eat themselves before he got to her door. Hell, he’d changed his clothes more times than a girl for God’s sake.

Dragging his sweaty palm down his jeans, he shoved his fisted hands in his jacket. “Calm the fuck down, Jonny,” he muttered to himself. Swallowing down nerves, his walk slowed. A sad brass tone breathed out of her home. The melody wasn’t anything he recognized. Even his nights in the bar with Southside, rich with horns and brass couldn’t compete with the sounds infiltrating the night.

The closer he got to Katy’s, the louder the music grew, pulling at him with its deep, soulful sound. There was overwhelming talent in the notes that belonged to hot nights and cool sheets. He breathed rock and roll, but he appreciated all sorts of music. This was out of his realm, but the dulcet tones of the sax spoke of the south and jazz that was older than time and color. He leaned his shoulder against her door, just listening. She claimed she couldn't play that well? Hell—she was wasting her talent on doctoring.

He finally lifted his hand to knock.

Kate swore. She'd meant to put the stupid thing away an hour ago, but the melody in her head just wouldn’t shut up. She hadn't written a note in nearly a year. She went from nothing to scribbling her way through three leafs of score. What the hell had gotten into her?

She flipped her neck-strap off and dropped the Alto Sax into the new club chair she'd purchased the night before. She’d gotten side tracked with playing—so much so, that she hadn’t even finished getting dressed.

Blowing a curl out of her face, she opened the door. The man at her door was not the same man she'd met a few weeks ago. Gone was the glam. A day or two's worth of beard edged off the pretty, leaving him more accessible. Pair that with hair that had lost at least three inches in volume, street clothes that spoke of money without speaking rock star, and she was seriously in trouble.

A red button down was open at the neck. She swallowed with a little difficulty. Actually, more like open at the chest. Battered jeans and boots showed that he actually wore the clothes, not just used them for show. Finish her…er, him…off with a simple black duster, and she was more than a little distracted.

When his eyes met hers, Kate’s hand flexed on the doorknob. She had nothing in her arsenal for a man like him. Book smart, yes—people smart? Hell no. He’d chew her up and spit her out in a big, gooey—albeit, orgasm induced—puddle of destruction.

Curious at the deer in headlights look, Jon leaned in and brushed a kiss along her cheek. “Not that I don’t love a woman in ripped jeans,” his eyes traced the lush curve of her hips, “but am I early?”

“Uh,” she snapped her mouth shut. “Sorry, Sugar, got a little carried away with…” she trailed off shrugging.

“A sad saxophone that made my jeans a little too tight,” Jon answered for her.

Her breath caught. Oh God, he’d heard her? She felt the heat on her cheeks. “Yeah, plans to go back into the city got my fingers itchy.”

“I’m the same way in the bars,” he winked. His eyes drifted over the thin t-shirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Would her nipples taste as good as they looked under the cotton? He swallowed, dragging his eyes back to hers. “Why don’t you get dressed? I’ll wait here.”

Her head bobbed once and she escaped to her bedroom. Pacing the length of her living room, he noticed a few changes. The look was instantly less college and more adult female. Vivid colors that reflected Katy’s look, more than Elena’s pastel, pretty girl feminine. Looking at the mundane got his hard on in order and by the time she came back into the room, he was pretty sure he’d stuffed his adolescent…Hell.

Lust bit him in the ass, sure and completely. She wore a simple button down black blouse, with only a couple buttons undone. A trio of fine gold chains dipped low into her cleavage with the little charm she always wore. His tongue wanted to taste that skin, even that little flash of gold—anything to get a piece of her in his mouth again. Fuck if it wasn’t going to be a long and frustrating night.

Faded jeans, minus the holes—too bad—molded to her long legs, but it was the ends of her hair swinging down her back that was his last nail. She had hair that defied color—sometimes gold, sometimes dark, sometimes fire—but always distracting. He cleared his throat, leaning in to brush a kiss on her cheek. “You look great.”

His scent wrapped around her, musky and fresh at the same time. The few minutes away from him should have been long enough to calm herself, but the butterflies were back—swarms of them. "I didn't know you knew how to do your hair without hairspray,” she teased, trying to break the charged air.

"Always the comedian," he said dryly.

She reached up into her little mail keeper on the wall next to her phone and he sucked back a groan. That little flash of skin along her back—he’d taste it again dammit, he was going to make sure of it. "I picked up a weekend train schedule for us, and if we hurry we can catch one of the earlier ones, so we won’t have to sit shoulder to shoulder with the masses.”

"We won't need a train schedule, babe. I have transportation outside." He intended to pamper her, regardless of the southern fried snark she let fly.

"Jon, it's insane to find parking downtown. It's easier to take the train." She grabbed her denim jacket and the smaller purse she used for the city. Snatching her keys off the hook by the phone she caught him checking out her ass.

Jon snorted, "That would be true, IF we were taking a car." He placed his arm around her and walked towards the door, hugging her close. "Trust me.”

"What did you do?" she asked warily. Shrugging him off, she pulled open the door. She was pretty sure a guppy didn’t have anything on her at the moment. "You didn't!"

He leaned against the door. "Didn't what?"

"Shoot!” A shiny black limo took up half the parking spots in front of her house. “Jon...that's crazy. And way too much to spend on a ride into the city!" she whirled around. "This isn’t a black tie affair you know. The Black Cat is a small, hole in the wall type place.”

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor he offered her a smile. “It’s just easier,” he said easily. “So enjoy the ride and the perks of my lifestyle." When she still stood there, nearly vibrating in reaction he sighed. "It’s just a really big car with someone to save us the stress of driving."

Ignoring the shiver that slipped down her spine she elbowed him. "This is not a date. Got that?" She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze flitting down to his lips then resolutely back to his eyes. "NOT a date."

He patted her shoulder reassuringly. His Katy was going to take a gentle hand, no doubt about it. "Of course not. We're just two friends going out."