Beautiful Scars (4 page)

“Ahhh, but you’re doing your part and investing in the local economy,” Chaili said, smiling. She turned away and went to get her wrap and purse. Although she doubted she’d need the wrap, she’d rather have it than not. Before she could pick up the wrap, though, Marc was there and the fragile silk looked even more delicate in his hands. She swallowed and tore her gaze away from those long-fingered, agile hands. She’d always loved those hands…

Stop it
, she told herself. He moved behind her and she closed her eyes, counted to ten.

As he draped the silk over her shoulders, she reminded herself she could handle this. That she’d
wanted
to handle this. It wasn’t a date even, right? It was just a night. One night with Marc and then it was done. The one thing she’d always wanted…she could pretend for a night that he was hers.

“Chaili…” he murmured. The raw whiskey and velvet of his voice stroked over her senses like a caress and she had to fight not to shiver. “You look amazing.”

Amazing didn’t touch it.

Beautiful didn’t quite touch it, either.

Marc was still trying to figure out the right way to describe it more than two hours later.

Something about her was…different.

He couldn’t explain what, though.

Of course, it had been more than five years since he’d spent much time around her. She’d gotten serious with a guy. Married him for a little while. Then the marriage fell apart. He’d been out of the country when he’d heard they were splitting up, hearing the details from Shera.

When he’d emailed Chaili, all she’d told him in reply was,
We just weren’t suited, Marc. It’s not the end of the world.

Not suited. Hell, he could have told her that. Tim Hardesty had been a fucking
ass
. He even knew the guy, in a roundabout sort of way, although he’d been careful to keep that connection very, very distant and Chaili, thank God, was blissfully unaware.

Frowning, he glanced over at her, studying her left hand. It was naked. She wore an odd ring on her right. It was some dark sort of metal, oxidized silver maybe, with a ruby in the middle, flanked by diamonds. Sometimes, he’d see her stroke it, in an offhand, absent manner that made him think it was habit.

She was chatting with the mayor, her voice rising, falling…open, friendly, and her smile was full of charm. He had absolutely no idea what they were talking about.

And he didn’t care. Suddenly, he was jealous. He didn’t want to share her with all the people in the crowd. He didn’t want to
be
in the crowd, but that wasn’t new. He was used to the crowds by now and after ten years of living this life, plus the ten years of struggling to get here, he knew he had to deal with it, but he didn’t want to stand there while his “companion” did all the talking.

He wanted her talking to him.

This wasn’t a fucking paid date.

“Excuse us,” he said, cutting into the conversation. Giving the mayor and his wife a smile, he caught Chaili’s hand in his and guided her through the crowd, out to where the party had spilled onto the terrace. Little lights had been threaded through the branches and lanterns floated through the pool. All around him, people were chattering and a few people drifted toward them—he ignored them. He just wanted a few minutes of peace and quiet with Chaili.

The gardens were likely the best place… Yeah. It was darker there, but quieter, and as they moved down one of the curved, winding paths, the voices started to grow more and more faint.

“Finally,” he muttered.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Chaili slip him an amused glance, the lush curve of her mouth canting up. Damn it, that mouth. He’d noticed her mouth before…how could he not, but he was having a damned hard time keeping himself from staring at it nonstop tonight. It was slicked with something that stained it with a sinful shade of red and all he wanted to do was cup her face in his hands and taste that mouth.

Normally, he’d be inclined to do just that.

Except this was Chaili. He remembered the last time he’d tried that sort of thing with a friend. It had gotten all fucked up. Not that Chaili would ever do anything like that, but even aside from that, he didn’t think it was a good idea to screw up a friendship just because he’d suddenly realized she was a gorgeous woman.

Well, no. He’d always known that.

And there’d been a time when he’d actually wanted to spend more time with this gorgeous woman. But it hadn’t been doable and when he’d been back in town, she’d already been involved with Tim…

Shit.

“Are you okay?” Chaili asked softly.

“Stupid party,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and pretending his problems rested solely on a dislike he knew she was familiar with. He’d never been much for socializing, a fact she knew well.

Chaili laughed softly, tipping her head back to the sky.

Moonlight shone down on her, gilding the hollows and curves of her face, her neck. Fuck, she was beautiful. She’d been pretty in high school, but now…

She looked over at him, a faint smile still on her lips. “You know, if you hate this so much, why go?”

“I’m supposed to.” He shrugged. Spying a bench just ahead, he kept walking, still holding her hand. He didn’t feel any desire to break that contact, either. As long as she didn’t seem to mind.

“Well, Mom sometimes told me I was supposed to clean my plate, eat my lima beans and all that nasty stuff. I did it, but that doesn’t mean it was good for me.”

Chuckling, he sat down on the bench, straddling it so that he’d be able to look at her without craning his neck around. “Well, sometimes this life is toxic, I think. My manager thinks it’s a good idea to do this shit, but I mostly came because I know the guy throwing it, because it’s a good cause and all. Caleb is…well…a friend. If it wasn’t him, I would have ignored it.” He shrugged it off, then focused on her. He was pretty damn certain he hadn’t talked to Chaili for more than five minutes without Shera being around in years. And even then, Chaili was usually working. There were emails and sometimes he’d get to thinking of her and call, but the calls were sporadic and email, well, it just wasn’t the same. “I don’t see you much anymore.”

“Well, it would be rather hard.” She crossed her legs.

Marc managed not to stare at the long, sleek length for more than a second.
Yes, it’s rather hard,
he thought absently.
Getting harder by the seco—

He was ogling his sister’s best friend.
His
friend. Chaili was his friend too. She’d been his friend for a damn long time. And it didn’t matter, because his cock didn’t care that this was a friend. Didn’t care that he had this thing about fucking friends—that hadn’t gone over well, right?

“After all, you kind of trot all over the world for about five months out of the year and when you’re not trotting, you’re holed up in New York working on another album. Once in a blue moon, you dash down here, but well…” She ended with a shrug. “Kind of hard for us to talk much or see each other when you’re never in Chicago.”

He tore his gaze away from her, staring off toward the house, blindly focused on the little lights in the trees. “I’ve been busy,” he said gruffly.
I’ve been hiding
.

“Oh, I know. I’m proud of you.” She tugged her hand, a subtle request that he let go, but he wasn’t too inclined to listen to subtle. After a second, she stopped and he glanced over at her just in time to see her reaching up with her free hand. She stilled for the briefest moment and then continued, brushing his hair back from his face. “I always knew you’d make it, you know. You were so determined to do it, and you did.”

He let go of the hand he’d been holding to catch her wrist, turning his face into her palm. The scent of her, something light and soft, had taunted him all night and he wanted to find the source of it, see if she’d dabbed it on her neck or between her breasts…it was just the slightest bit stronger on her wrist and he wanted to open his mouth, rake his teeth along her skin…

A weird scuffling noise caught his ears and just before he could do just what he’d been thinking about doing, a familiar voice rang out.

“Heya, Marc, buddy…where you at?”

Groaning, he closed his eyes.

Caleb…that was Caleb. They had an agreement, one they’d made a few years back after…well. After the disaster that shall be unnamed. Marc would come to Caleb’s stupid-ass parties and Caleb, in turn, would keep his eye out for him.

And no doubt, that was probably what Caleb thought he was doing.

Lowering Chaili’s hand, he gave her a tired smile. “That’s my handler.”

“You’ve got a handler?” she asked, quirking a brow at him.

“Sort of.” He shrugged, glancing over as Caleb finally appeared around a bend.

“I never thought you’d be the kind of man who’d let somebody take you in hand, Marc,” she teased, poking him in the knee.

He snorted. Unable to resist, he stroked a hand down her back. “Nobody wants that job, trust me.”

“Hmmm. I know the feeling,” she said, dipping her head. For a second, her shoulders slumped.

“Chaili?”

Rubbing his hand in a circle over the small of her back, he watched as she straightened and smiled up at him. “Some of us just aren’t meant to be handled, I guess.”

“There you are, man…” Caleb said, giving him an easy smile. But there was worry in his eyes. Worry, an apology.

Marc stood. Chaili did the same. “Hey, I don’t think I introduced you two. Caleb, this is an old friend of mine.” Slipping an arm around her waist, he tugged Chaili in closer, pressing a kiss to her brow. And because she was there, because he could, he let himself breathe in the scent of her… Aw, fuck, she smelled so damn good…

“Oh?” Caleb continued to stand there, watching them closely.

“Yeah.” He wondered what she’d do if he…

“Marc.” Caleb’s voice, a hard, clear slap in the night, was an annoyance he could have done without.

Looking up, he shot his friend a dark look. “What?”

“You were telling me about your friend. An old friend. I remember a time you brought an old friend to one of my parties…” Caleb narrowed his eyes and said, “She was something of a bitch, really.”

There were some weird undercurrents going on there and Chaili normally would have been A-okay leaving the two of them alone to hash it out, right up until Caleb tossed out the line about Marc’s last
date
.

Easing away from Marc was almost like cutting off an arm. He felt so good against her and those hands, the hands she’d dreamed about stroking along her back, her neck, all those sensitive erogenous zones that made her want to shiver and sigh.

Shoving those needs to the side, she studied the man in front of her. He looked vaguely familiar. “Excuse me, did you just imply I’m a bitch?”

Behind her, she heard a muttered curse.

The man before her just smiled. “Not at all, Ms.…?”

“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 bumps breaking out over her flesh, and this time she couldn’t suppress the shiver. 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 shivering. 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 bitch.”

“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?”