Aileen's Song (9 page)

“Keep a solid focus and perspective, Aileen. You're going to need heavy doses of both in times to come.”

Her jaw dropped. “I see. So. I'm the poor little innocent who needs to be watched over and guarded from her own gullibility.” For affect, Aileen's tone went sarcastic, and she fluttered her lashes. “Heavens, the scandal! Imagine! Me, partaking in a friendly, public lunch with a man who'd like to spend time with me. You, meanwhile, a man who's worldly and wise, can most assuredly withstand the charms of an attractive and interested woman during a two-day business trip to the big city, correct?”

Liam went still and delivered a look full of ice. “Steady on there, Brewer.”

Aileen was so tired of fighting she couldn't think straight anymore. In retaliation she shot him a saccharin smile. “Same to you there, Douglas.”

Cole re-entered the studio, and Aileen joined him, warming her features to brightness in the span of time it took to disengage from Liam's angry gaze.

Already wearing his coat, Cole retrieved Aileen's purse and shawl, settling the pashmina around her shoulders in a courtly way that left her to think only of Liam…and Roxy.

As always, she rebuked an influx of pain stirred by self-doubt, willingly absorbing Cole's appreciative gaze. What choice did she have? At least he appreciated her company.

Aileen had no choice but to move on…and away. So, she steeled her resolve and amped up her smile, wondering if it looked as false as it felt. Evidently not; Liam's eyes darkened as she linked her arm through Cole's. “Thanks so much for this. I really do feel like celebrating.” Aileen moved smoothly past, her shoulder brushing Liam's. Their gazes caught and held. “See you, Liam. Thanks for the great session today.” Her closing salvo, airy and dismissive, left Liam to stare and her heart to break.

 

 

 

 

8

 

The next morning, Siobhan sailed across the entryway of Aileen's apartment and into the living room. Aileen was well aware of the way her friend's eyes went wide, the way her curious gaze began to rove the apartment…and absorb. With barely a word of greeting, Aileen turned her back and stalked into the kitchen where she had been cleaning.

Siobhan, meanwhile, let out a long, high whistle, obviously recognizing Aileen's modus operandi. Such was the blessing and curse of being best friends. Not a speck of dust could be found. Not a single sheet of paper rested out of place. Rugs were vacuumed, magazines stacked neatly and arranged to perfection atop shining wood tables. Brass gleamed. Glass accent pieces shone.

“Just how upset are you? Scale of one to ten?”

Aileen simmered in response to the question. She scrubbed hard at already sparkling granite countertops. “Forty might about cover it.” She blew hair out of her eyes, keeping her back to her friend. “You know my mantra. When life ticks you off, get cleaning.”

“Wise enough choice on one level. On another, it's no good to play the avoidance game.”

So, Siobhan wanted to cut straight to the chase. Fine—but Aileen didn't intend to hold back. “It's not a game, dear heart, and your brother, the big oaf, is not on my charitable list at the moment.”

Siobhan's lips curved, and her brows inched upward. “Snaps for honesty, and thanks for confirming all my suspicions about how hard you've fallen for him—as though they even needed verification.” She flopped onto the couch and received a scorching look via the pass-through when she pressed back against freshly plumped decorator pillows. “Start at the beginning and fill me in.”

“Do you know what you are?”

“Winsome charm personified?” Siobhan Douglas knew how to be sassy using nothing more than a head tilt and a devilish wink.

Aileen growled all over again. “No, you're a small oaf by association.”

Beaming, Siobhan remained unperturbed. “Thanks ever so. Now spill it.”

“Liam Patrick Douglas—”

“The afore-referenced oaf.”

“That's the one. Deems it necessary to protect me in all my girlish innocence from those who might prey upon my naïveté.” Aileen added the requisite exaggerated tone and facial expressions. She capped her diatribe with an angry flounce and ended up on the couch next to her friend. More pillows now flattened. Much like the deepest wish of her heart…

“OK, that's interesting. At the risk of being redundant, what exactly happened?”

“I recorded a song! Heaven help us! With a really nice guy! Uh-oh!” Completely unsettled and edgy, Aileen flung her arms and stood to pace. Naturally, Siobhan remained seated, placid and relaxed as could be. Wench. “Right after you and the girls left the demo session yesterday, Cole and I recorded ‘Picture Paradise'. He was a total gentleman and so charming. Afterward, your brother, who by the way seemed more than enchanted by one Roxanne Mitchell, went all critical and way over-board in the protective department. He actually took it upon himself to pull me aside and warn me off.”

“Really. About?”

“About the dangers of letting flattery distort my good judgment and perceptions. Evidently he doesn't want me to be hurt by a man with lascivious intent.”

Siobhan blinked hard. “Wow. What did you say in return?

“Not much. I was livid. What I should have said is that a man of lascivious intent beats the tar out of one who plays things so close to the vest. At least with a dubious man you know where you stand. Not so with the strong, silent type.”

“Like Liam.”

“Precisely. The oaf.”

“Now you're being redundant.”

Aileen scowled, and Siobhan leaned forward, her eyes soft and gentle.

“Ailee, sweetheart don't you see the truth? He's crazy about you.”

“Liam?” A tone of utter disbelief all but coated the word.

“Yes.”

“Not even in my wildest fantasies, and you are the only one on earth I'd admit that to because you've known my feelings for him since we were in grade school and pigtails.”

“I have. And you've grown up since then. So has he. Maybe he's starting to notice, and maybe he's trying to figure things out just as much as you are. Ever think of that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Unexpected tears welled in Aileen's eyes creating a hot, stinging sensation and damp tracks down her cheeks. “Because I'm not his type. I'm not the kind of woman who could ever hold his heart.”

“Oh, I'm about to perform a girlfriend slap-down right now.”

She huffed and attempted to regroup. “I know I have gifts. I know I have talents to offer that will be amazing in Liam's hands, but the idea of opening myself to him and being refused—”

“Why would he refuse you?” Siobhan cut in abruptly.

“Because I'm not a sexy super model who—”

“Get over it! Do you really think that's the kind of woman Liam wants? If so, you don't know him at all. Or, perhaps you're just guarding your heart so carefully you won't let yourself recognize what everyone else sees every time he looks at you.”

“If he feels that way, then he should be more proactive about trying to show it, rather than making me feel like a silly school girl who can't look after herself.”

The chase. Courtship. Romance and revelation. All of a sudden, the realizations crystalized. Those are the things she prayed for, and what she craved, from Liam Douglas. Aileen swept out of the great room and into the kitchen. The sink needed scouring, and the cutting board could use a thorough wipe down with bleach and water…

“Then you should give up the pretense,” Siobhan called. “Please stop holding back from what you want. You're wonderful.”

“Oh, yeah? Well if I'm so wonderful, how come he's in New York City for the next two days with Roxanne Mitchell?”

“Aileen, were you functioning with a clear enough head, I think you'd realize that trip is all about business.”

“Couldn't tell that by the way she fell into his open arms.”

Siobhan shook her head. “Platonic.”

Aileen snarled.

“Do you know what you need to do? Take the ball out of his court. Make the move. Force the hand I know he's holding on to so tight by showing him how you feel—”

Siobhan's earnest advice didn't have its desired effect. The words scalded Aileen's spirit. She whipped open a cabinet and clattered down a glass that she promptly filled with an abrupt, splashing stream of tap water. She gulped down the liquid, determined to combat the swell in her throat and the irksome stinging of her eyes.

In her periphery she noticed the tentative way Siobhan crossed the threshold, the startled expression on her face. The reaction of her friend did nothing to soothe. Aileen slammed the cupboard door closed way too hard and ground out a roar of exasperation.

“Ailee….” Siobhan reached out cautiously.

Aileen moved in the opposite direction. “Siobhan, I'm raw right now. I want…I…I want…Do you know what I want?”

Aileen dropped her used glass into the sink; she didn't care if it shattered into a million bits. She was sick of guarding herself, being protective of everyone but herself, and moving through life to the song of everyone else's wishes and rules. Especially when it came to matters of the heart.

She always tried so hard. She yearned and ached for goodness, and for the heartfelt pursuit of a noble and wonderful man. Like Liam. Why was life and love so stinking hard? Why did she have to struggle and fight so hard for the things she wanted most? Where was God? Where were the answers to good and heartfelt prayer?

“What do you want?” Siobhan asked the question gently, ignoring Aileen's rebuke.

Next, Siobhan lifted with perfect ease and grace onto the kitchen island, crossing her feet at the ankles while she sat and waited. Curse the heavenly little sprite for being so gorgeous, so open, and so precious.

“I want it all, Siobhan.” Temper expended, Aileen's voice went plaintive and soft. “I want”—she choked up, her words turning rough and choppy—”I want the man of my dreams to pursue me. I don't want to be the one making the moves, making my feelings known in order to build a relationship. Why can't it be him? I want the fairytale. I want to be swept away. Why am I the one who needs to push? Why can't the man I love be the one who fights to win my heart? There's only one answer I can find. Liam doesn't really want it. He's not as interested in me as I am in him. Certainly, there's sentimental attachment and genuine affection. Thing is…it's just not enough.” She crumbled, back to her best friend as she propped her palms against the edge of the sink and leaned forward heavily, letting the tears have their way. “I want him to love me as much as I love him.”

 



 

What a pile of crock. The five words congealed and bounced through Liam's head as he stared after his diminutive little sister.

Oh, sure, the pretext of Siobhan's visit—and it was just that, pretext—was an update on the demo project. The real reason for her visit? Badgering. Meddling. Well-meaning, but thoroughly irritating affection. Had to be. Otherwise, it would be Aileen, the unquestioned leader of their group, who came calling…

His heart tripped at the idea.

“They liked what they heard?”

Her question brought him back around. “That's what I'm hearing through the grapevine. I find out next week. At that point, if everyone is in agreement, they'll opt in for a performance. I've already created a pitch to sell them on the idea of a DVD to be made available, with video cuts of you performing at the original fundraiser. It won't have quite the polish of a full-bore production, but it will certainly satisfy audience members who want to listen to your music once the concert is done. It'll also give Zion's Peak an indication of interest and sale potential.”

“This sounds intense.” Siobhan's eyes were wide. “What about contracts and money and such?”

“We'd roll all of that legalese into the language of the performance contract. No worries. I'll have your backs on that one, but in times to come, if a recording contract is offered, and I'm pretty certain it will be, you might need to hire a full-time agent. It wouldn't just protect your interests, doing so would enhance promotion.”

“Makes sense.”

Siobhan's attention drifted as she wandered the main living area of Liam's condominium.

Sensing a trap about to spring, Liam frowned and began to prowl, heading for a set of sliding glass doors that led to the back patio. He wanted to open them a crack and let a temperate breeze glide through.

He couldn't stop thinking about Aileen—and Cole Copeland. Had they seen each other since lunch last week? The person most likely to possess intel on the topic presently lowered herself onto an ottoman positioned in front of the easy chair Liam favored. Her position, he knew, was an unspoken request to sit and talk. Talk is just what he didn't need when facing emotional turmoil—which Siobhan also knew.

After opening the slider a few inches, he stayed put, back to his sibling, and he studied the yard. The setting of his home reflected an autumn-scape of tranquility and peace, the polar opposite of his spirit at the moment. Pent up energy needed release.

“It always strikes me how wonderful this place of yours is, love, but it sorely needs a woman's touch. There's style and beauty but no soul. At least, not yet.” That pointed remark died a painful death when Liam chose to ignore it—and Siobhan. “Tell me about the trip to New York. Was it productive? Enlightening?”

Another pause built. Oh, Heaven help him. Why wasn't strangling her an acceptable option?

“I can tell something or someone has stirred the waters of your mood but good. Care to share?”

To answer, Liam indulged in more silence, but began to pace. His brows pulled, and he studied bookshelves, gleaming wooden tables, and the old world style furniture that comprised his home. Things here were just fine, thank you very much. But then, with swift clarity, Aileen's face came into focus. OK, maybe a pop of color here and there—the spice of flowers and a touch of softness—