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BOOK: The Grey Tier
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“From back home,” Simone said.

I nodded again and forced a smile. “But it’s very casual right now . . . we’re taking it slow.”

“What’s the lucky guy’s name?” Dwight asked.

“Lucas,” I blurted, relieved there was at least one truthful thing I could say in this conversation.

“Lucas?” Simone said, her brow furrowing. “Hey, isn’t that the name of the rock star who was murdered at Blake’s house?”

“Oh wow! I’d totally forgotten about that.” So much for being honest.

I glanced back at Dwight who was watching me intently. “You should have him visit. We’d all love to meet him, I’m sure.” And then he winked at me.

For a brief, unsettling moment, I had the distinct impression Dwight knew all about the real Lucas and me. But that was just ridiculous. So I began to wonder if he believed my boyfriend story at all . . . or maybe he thought I’d made the whole thing up to cover up my feelings for Joshua to give Simone permission to pursue him. Of course, that was as far from the truth as it could get. Wasn’t it?

Chapter Forty-Six

SIMONE, DWIGHT, AND MOST of the bar finally made their way to another port of call, and I started cleaning up. Joshua was in the back wiping down the kitchen. The only other person in the place was Sunglasses Man. And he didn’t show any signs of leaving.

I walked over to him and said, “Last call.”

He took off his glasses (finally!) and looked up at me with light hazel eyes. “Evie Preston.” It was a statement.

“Yes?”

He took a business card out of his wallet and tossed it down on the table, nodding his head at it. “For you.”

If this was a pick-up line, the guy seriously needed to work on his moves. However, I picked the card up in spite of myself and quickly scanned it. One side simply read:
Kane Richards: Executive Produce
r. On the top of the flip side, it read:
Kane Records
. It took me a few seconds to process. But finally it clicked. Kane Records was a major record label based in New York City.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Richards.” I rubbed my hand against my jeans, trying to wipe off the sweat that had suddenly appeared.

“Please call me Kane.” He gestured to the seat across from his. “Have a seat.” I did. Kane looked at me for a long moment. “I was a friend of Nick’s. I’d been scheduled to come out to LA a couple of months ago and had to cancel. Nick and I tried to get together at least a few times a year. Anyway, he called me about you.”

I felt elated and then very, very sad. Nick
had
been telling me the truth about his big time producer friend.

“I cancelled my last trip.” He shook his head. “Family matters. Wish I hadn’t. I was so sorry to hear about Nick. He’s been a good friend.” Kane stared down at his hands, regret clearly etched across his face. “I was so disappointed I couldn’t make his service. As I said, I’ve been dealing with some stuff at home. One of my kids got mixed up with the wrong crowd. That kind of thing.” He waved a hand in front of his face. “Anyway, I had to come out on business this week, and I decided to stop by in and see if you were still playing.”

“I am.”

“I’m grateful for that . . . because you are as good as Nick promised.”

I felt a happy blush spread across my cheeks. I was speechless.

“I’d like to have you come out to New York and speak with some of our people. I’m interested in doing what I can to help you launch a career.”

“Seriously?” I could barely contain my smile.

He nodded. “As a heart attack.”

“This is amazing! Yes! I’m in!” I resisted the sudden urge to launch myself across the table and hug him. I was that excited.

He grinned and clapped his hands together. “Great! Let me get your contact information and I will be in touch. I’m heading off on vacation for a couple of weeks, but when I return, let’s look at our schedules and see how we can make this work.”

We both stood at the same time and he shook my hand. His grasp was firm and warm. But that’s not all. Instantly, I received a vision of Kane and the blonde man from my bad dream. The man was threatening him in some way. I had no idea what it meant, but I removed my hand as if it were on fire.

Kane Richards looked at me with an odd expression. “Okay. We will be talking soon.”

“Yes,” I uttered, not sure if I had even said the word out loud.

He left the bar soon after and Joshua waltzed out from the kitchen as if on cue.

He put an arm around me and pulled me into a half hug. “Thanks for introducing me to Simone. I’m going to have an amazing restaurant and bar, and . . . Who knows? Your dreams could be next.”

Yes, they could. But at what price?

Chapter Forty-Seven

AFTER MAKING FAST WORK of closing up the bar, I made it home earlier than usual and Cass greeted me at the door with a wagging tail. I sighed. After a long, complicated night, there was nothing quite like a happy dog to ease tension. Mac padded up behind Cass and began meowing pitifully.

“My goodness, you guys act like you haven’t been fed in weeks!”

I went to the cupboard and took out their food, emptying it into their respective bowls. Mac looked down at his bowl and then up at me with a
you gotta be kidding me
look.

“Sorry, big man, I have to put you back on a diet.” I swear he rolled his eyes at me. “Okay. Fine. You can have a little cream on top.”

I got the cream out of the fridge along with some lunch meat to top off Cass’ meal. I started to grab a Coke, but decided the caffeine probably wasn’t a great idea considering how late it was. I eyed the bottle of Chardonnay I kept in the fridge in case Simone dropped in. Frankly, I’d spent too much on that bottle of wine, but I knew if Simone did show up unexpectedly and I had cheap wine or, God forbid, no wine at all, I’d be screwed. I debated for a minute, weighing the pros and cons of opening the bottle now, and finally decided to live a little.

I was twisting the corkscrew down into the cork when one of the kitchen lights flickered. At first I got excited because I thought it meant Lucas might show up. He didn’t, and the light went out. I popped out the cork, poured a glass of wine, and set it down, heading into the hallway to get a new bulb.

The house had originally been built in the ‘30s, which meant it was filled with several interesting nooks and crannies, like the row of four cupboards lining one side of the hall. Instead of opening from the side like most cabinet doors, these opened from the top by pulling the knobs down. I think at one time they were meant to hold kitchen and bath linens. They were about four-feet wide, a foot high, and a foot or so deep. Now they held items like light bulbs, extra candles, and a bunch of random stuff like a deck of cards, some jacks, and old, empty picture frames. There were also a handful of photos.

I grabbed a stack and idly flipped through them. The one common denominator they had was a handsome guy with grey-blue eyes and a healthy tan. He was between thirty-five and forty-five and could easily have been featured in one of those “Visit California!” ads I kept seeing everywhere. In the photos, he was always with one or several women, or what appeared to be a group of friends.

Strangely, I felt like I knew him. I began looking closer at the group photos and I gasped when I recognized Lucas’s face. The picture had been shot in this very house in what appeared to be the kitchen (I could see the pool sparkling in the background). I studied the blonde guy again. Could this be Blake, the owner of the house? It seemed likely. This was his home, and he was in all of these photos. I wished I could ask Lucas. I really don’t know why it mattered, other than the very strong sense I’d seen Blake before. I placed the stack of photos back into the cupboard and continued my search for a light bulb.

Finally, after a good five minutes, I located a box of bulbs and went back into the kitchen to fix the light. That finished, I decided to take my wine glass and head up to bed. Mac, who had finished his dinner in record time, jumped up on the bed and immediately curled up on my pillow. Cass, my little guard dog, was doing her post-dinner rounds. She’d come upstairs eventually.

I changed into a nightshirt and sat down in front of the vanity where I kept Hannah’s feathers. I closed my eyes, thinking about her, wishing she would come through the portal to visit me. Or, even better, wishing she would come through the door—alive.

I could sense the light dim in the room. I opened my eyes and saw the candles on my desk were lit again and the flames fluttered gently.

Lucas!

He stood next to me, very close. I wanted to talk to him. Ask questions. Get answers.

But what he was doing made me forget about talking completely.

His hand grazed the back of my neck as he lifted the thick ponytail off my back and slowly loosened the tie. I closed my eyes at the wonderful feeling of his long fingers combing gently through my hair. A surge went through my body, moving like a wave from the middle of my spine up into my chest and out through my head. I could feel him bend close to my ear.

His fingers moved over my scalp and around to my collarbone while his other hand grazed my cheeks. He turned my chair around to face him. We stared at each other for a long, breathless moment.

“Lucas,” I whispered. There was so much I wanted to say.

He picked me up, and my legs wrapped around him. I felt lightheaded with excitement, lust, need. He set me gently on the bed and raised both his arms straight up, whispering something. As before, the tips of his fingers began to emit a pale, pinkish glow. He waved his hands around us, creating the luster.

His dark hair shone brightly in the glow. Lucas moved in towards me, positioning his body over mine. He placed his hands over mine, clasping them tightly, pushing them into the mattress. I could feel his desire as much as my own. My back lifted into an arch and a soft moan escaped my lips. I desperately wanted him closer, wanted his body on mine.

He pulled one hand away and, agonizingly slowly, traced the outline of my lower lip with his finger, gazing into my eyes. The purple in his eyes deepened.

“I never needed anyone when I was alive. Not like this. But here I am. And I’m not supposed to feel this way,” he said, shaking his head slightly, not taking his eyes from mine. “But you’ve done something to me, and I can’t stop it. I don’t know how.”

I felt my pulse speed up. “You don’t have to. Do you?”

He groaned. “There are rules. Rules I have to follow.”

“But don’t you ever get to have a day off from the rules?” I reached out and caressed his chest. It was like moving my hands through tropical water—warm, still, and peaceful, yet behind that calm was something bigger, something more powerful than I could comprehend. “Please break the rules again, Lucas. Just one more time. I need to feel you.”

He bowed his head, lowering himself onto me. He dropped a slow kiss on my forehead. Then my cheeks, my eyelids, the tip of my nose, my chin . . . so softly, so sweetly. His warm, smooth hands began to explore my body and I thought I would go out of my mind between the tender kisses and the feathery touch. Every brush against my skin fueled my ache, making me want more from him.

When he reached my toes, his lips kissing each one separately as his fingers grazed my legs, he rolled me onto my stomach where he worked his way back up, again kissing every inch of my skin and massaging every part of my body until he reached the top of my head, his fingers now intertwined in my hair, gently tugging on the strands. He gently removed my shirt and panties and his body moved closer to mine, his hands spreading my legs apart as his chest pressed against my back.

He kissed the nape of my neck, and I felt an intense rush of pleasure as he entered me. Together we moved like an ocean wave, ever so slowly at first. When I thought I couldn’t take anymore, when I might scream with frustration, he picked up speed, taking us both further into a dizzying spiral of intensity. I felt his hands over mine again as he moved smoothly in and out. He was making it hard for me to think clearly. To think at all, really. My body responded instinctively to his as I gave myself completely to him.

Lucas—dead or alive—had captured every piece of me.

Body, mind, heart, and soul.

BOOK: The Grey Tier
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ads

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