Kassidy's Crescendo (11 page)

“And you're amazing at it, Drew. Staging and direction is your gift.”

He didn't take or leave the words of praise. Rather, he let them settle. “Performance is what I love, and it grew beyond anything I ever imagined. Stage production gave me the life I craved because to me, money, plus success, equaled security. After my parents split, that's how I found my way to a new form of normal.”

He settled his gaze toward the stage. “For me, it's the floorboards, the lighting, the props, and the process of organizing all kinds of productions. I never cared to act or sing. I loved the process of bringing an alternate world to life and letting everyone know about it.” Next to him, Kassidy shifted, delivering her full attention. “I'm fulfilled by creating a performance from nothing more than a blank canvas.

“It's not real, though. It disappears with every city we visit.” He released a stuttered sigh. Sharing that newfound recognition with Kassidy felt right—but scary, too. Vulnerability had never rested well on Drew's shoulders. “You asked me once what happens when the stage goes dark. I've thought about the answer to that question many times since, and the answer is, there's nothing. No true meaning or depth. Until now. Until this tour. Until you.”

Kassidy turned her head; her chest rose and fell on a deep breath. “The only missing element is God.”

Drew propped his forearms against the chair in front of him. “He's after me, KC, but I don't know how to deal with that fact yet.” He lifted a shoulder. “I love the idea of bringing performances to life for an audience. Can't say why or how that came to be, really. Nothing exceptional drew me to the entertainment field. I graduated college with a degree in performance arts and a minor in business.” He chuckled. “I figured I'd hedge my bets by having a dream plan and a practical plan.”

“Smart man.”

“Not so smart when I break the rules.”

Kassidy's shoulder pressed against his; her muscles tensed, but when her eyes tagged his, they were steady and strong.

“You asked about Roxanne Mitchell.” Kassidy nodded. “I met Roxanne when Liam brought her to New York City, ready to send her on tour. I liked her, sure. She understood me and my professional life. Theoretically, we were a good match.”

“What's the rest of the story?”

“I broke the cardinal rule about dating a person you work with.”

Kassidy braced all over again.

“Roxy was convenient and easy to be with. She was fun, pretty, and kind—but that's where it ended. We were colleagues more than anything else. I didn't feel anything passionate or overwhelming, but we were similar. Our lives ran in parallel paths.”

“And then?”

“In the end, I backed away. Roxanne didn't take it well. I had no idea she'd be hurt and explode. I never saw that level of anger coming. We weren't committed; I didn't make love with her. I never compromised our professional relationship outside of a few private dinners and casual dates. Next thing I knew, I was summoned to Cam Franklin's office at Ganneton and given the news that I had been removed from her tour. She wanted distance. By that point, so did I, but still I was stunned.”

“Did she accuse you of anything?”

“No, she simply requested a change. Or should I say, she politely demanded a change. She only said it was personal, with no hard feelings. Since she had a hit single climbing the charts and an album on the Billboard rise, corporate didn't ask for much in the way of an explanation. Thing is, mystery fueled speculation. Gossip spread far and fast, and there was nothing I could say or do to stop it. Any response on my part would lead to a nasty session of he said/she said with no substantiation. I was trapped, KC, forced to keep quiet while industry rumors pegged the move as a response to some kind of tawdry sexual blow up.” Drew issued a mirthless laugh. “Nothing could've been further from the truth. I wouldn't disrespect a person that way. I wasn't inappropriate, but in the entertainment field, innuendo is more than enough to make clean water toxic.”

“I'm so sorry you've had to endure—”

“I'm grateful Liam threw me a shot at redemption.” Drew cut in, eager to change emphasis, strangely ashamed of something he had never done—never even contemplated. Where was the justice? To this day, he struggled to grasp the answers—the reasons why.

“Liam knows talent.”

The words reached him in succinct terms he appreciated. “Liam is an incredible friend. When he met with me, saying he had discovered the next big thing, I couldn't wait to jump on board. But I didn't think my bosses were going to go for it since it included four women. In the end, I guess they figured it'd either be redemption or the ruination of my career.”

Kassidy didn't react to his deliberately melodramatic tone. Instead, she seemed to gather her thoughts and give Drew's admission heartfelt consideration. “Well, you've landed on redemption, so don't let Roxy-gate define you. Move away from it and move forward into something better. Something more worthy of the man I see before me. You know the truth. God knows the truth. Nothing else matters.”

“You matter. You matter very much. But I work with you. Closely.”

“But I'm not Roxanne. Furthermore, I believe in you. This is different, Drew.”

That gave him courage. Weights lifted away, leaving him light—free. “Moments like this, with you, are exactly what I need. I'm glad we're able to spend time together outside of the tour.”

Did he imagine her glow of pleasure? Did hope magnify or distort the delight he sensed?

“You're so sweet.” Her voice held a playful lilt. “I love the way you pay such lavish compliments when you haven't even sampled my cooking yet.”

“Which reminds me, what's on the menu for tonight?”

“Stew. My mom's recipe. It's been simmering in the crock pot all day, so it should be perfect by the time we're ready to eat.”

Thoughts of a comforting meal shared in Kassidy's company spurred Drew forward as they departed Westerville High. Near the halfway mark to her apartment, they needed respite from the rain, so they pulled off the bike path near a small municipal park. A stand of trees with branches still crowded by fiery leaves afforded a bit of short-term protection from the elements. Drew climbed off his bike and propped it against a thick tree trunk.

Kassidy did the same, surrendering to a laughing fit as rain poured and cold wind blew water everywhere—across her face, against her windbreaker, against the cotton of her jeans, through her hair. “Obviously the bike ride preceding a storm wasn't our greatest idea.”

“I think it's fantastic.” Drew nabbed her hand and ran toward the nearest cover of thick, weighty branches.

He positioned her against the tree standing before her to act as a physical buffer against the atmospheric tumult. As soon as their eyes met, the world fell away. Moving close, he tracked the motion of his fingertips as he stroked wisps of wet hair from her cheeks. Her skin was chilled and moist, but his heart pounded and his pulse pushed thick and rich, warming him through.

Raindrops formed a cascade down her temples and cheeks. A bead of moisture landed on her lips. The droplet became his undoing. He could taste it—feel its silky moisture against lips full and supple…

Leaving himself no chance to back down, Drew leaned in and captured her mouth with his. An exclamation of pleasure lifted instantly from Kassidy's depths, feeding his heart. Her arms circled his neck, and her fingertips trailed through his hair. He cupped her face, tempering the kiss by slow degrees until at last he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “I promised to take you by surprise.”

“Mission accomplished.”

Though laced by a smile, her words weren't altogether steady. That pleased him, assured him of the power of her feelings. He nuzzled her neck and a musky, floral scent filled his universe. His lips touched hers once more, a back and forth brushstroke only…a feather dance meant only to retain their newfound intimacy.

“I should have been a gentleman and asked for your permission first.”

“No worries. You have it.”

Drew kissed her just as he had promised—giving her all that he was—honoring and respecting the gift of trust she bestowed. How could he feel so vulnerable, yet at the same time, so indomitable?

Once again he forced himself from the temptation she offered, gently cupping her face, glossing the pad of his thumb against her wet cheeks. “I think I hear that stew calling, KC.”

“Yeah, we better get going.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9

 

As soon as Drew crossed the threshold of Kassidy's apartment, he breathed deep of air flavored by the aroma of cooking meat and simmering vegetables. His stomach rumbled, which made Kassidy chuckle.

“I'm glad you approve.”

“Can't help it. I'm starving, and the food smells awesome.” Drew helped her slide free of her jacket then tacked the garment on one of the wooden pegs that formed a short line along the entryway wall.

“Feel free to make yourself comfortable. I'm going to freshen up real quick.”

While he pulled his coat off, she crossed through the living area and closed the door of a bathroom that he already knew was the Jack-and-Jill between her bedroom and the second guest suite. During a brief tour at the start of their day together, Drew had admired the open, modern style of Kassidy's place. Candles and photos lined the mantle of a gas fireplace. French doors led to a small, patio and sloping green space dotted by trees. While he wandered, a wall hung tapestry captured his attention and imagination. Positioned above the fireplace, the delicately woven piece featured a Celtic cross of shimmering gold and rich green centered against a burgundy background.

Quiet steps sounded from behind; Drew looked over his shoulder and froze in place. He had intended to ask her about the origins of the tapestry, but words fled. Kassidy emerged from a short changing session wearing a lace skirt of blue topped by a white satin shell. Hair made wavy by the effect of the rain fell free around her shoulders.

And she smiled—a caress against his soul. “Aileen got that for me in Ireland. Actually, she gave one to each of us when she came home from her college graduation trip to Europe.”

“It's beautiful.”

“I'd love to go there some day.”

She stood next to him. Although she had primped he came upon the subtle and enticing scents of rain water, autumn spice, and vanilla.

“I've never been to Ireland, either. Maybe the North American tour will lead to some international engagements.”

Kassidy's laughter chimed. “It never hurts to dream, right?”

Drew followed her—and the call of simmering deliciousness—to the kitchen. “I don't think it's a dream, KC. I think it's destined.”

The kitchen was eat-in, but roomy. A dark wood table gleamed beneath recessed lights. An accent wall of pale blue featured a grouping of ceramic tiles featuring fruits and vegetables. Kassidy retrieved a pair of large mugs from inside glass-door cabinets, prompting Drew to ask if he could help.

“I'm all set. I just need to pour the stew into a tureen and warm the bread. How does hot apple cider sound?”

“Like perfection.” Drew watched while she poured cider into a heating pan, admiring her grace, the smooth, fluid way she moved. “I like this place, KC. You've filled it beautifully.”

“Thanks. It's not my permanent spot, but all the same, I didn't want a cookie-cutter apartment. I fell in love with this place as soon as the rental agent took me through. It's got character, and I love the way it backs to a small pond.”

He hadn't noticed that detail, so while she fussed over a quartet of long, soft breadsticks, Drew strolled to the living room once again and took in the view. The pond was lovely, and the peace and cozy feel of Westerville continued to grow on him.

“We'll be ready in just a few. If you'd like to wash up before dinner, feel free.”

Not a bad idea since he hadn't had a chance to do so yet. In the bathroom, he removed his watch and set it on the basin. He grabbed the bar of soap from a holder next to the faucet and when he lathered, his motions came to an abrupt standstill.

Kassidy.

She floated around him in a fragrance so tantalizing his shoulders went weak. Water cascaded over his hands, frothed by the soap, and he paused to simply close his eyes for a second and indulge in a deep breath. Spices rose to meet him—cinnamon maybe—and there was something else—something earthy and rich—a bit of sandalwood that he recognized only because it was an element of the cologne he favored. He studied the bar he held, hand-milled in shades of brown and gray.

Romantic. Over soap. Oh, man was he a goner.

Drew toweled his hands dry and peeked into Kassidy's room, which adjoined the bath. The door was open to reveal a neat, well decorated space with light wood furniture. Pops of vibrant colors—red, purple, and yellow—came from a number of large throw pillows strewn across the head of a large bed covered by a plush white down comforter.

Snapping to proper focus, he disengaged from the tempting image and returned promptly to the kitchen.

Seated at the dining table, Kassidy waited. Illuminated tapers threw soft light and shadow against her skin, adding life to her eyes, transforming her welcoming smile to bewitching.

Drew sat across from her, unfolding a napkin and settling it across his lap. “I'm about to admit something you're never allowed to share with anyone else outside this room. You agreeable?”

“You bet.” She tilted her head and a curl of hair slid against her shoulder and arm. She claimed his bowl and lifted the lid of the tureen, preparing to dish his food.

“OK. Here goes. And, I can't believe I'm actually saying this, because I pride myself on being kind of a guy's-guy and all, but the soap in your bathroom—”