Tattooed Hearts (31 page)

“You see, I came back to
the Vineyard for two reasons.” She addressed the starving spectators. “One was
because I couldn't write this song to save my life. My creativity well was dry.
And the other…” She exh
aled.

Forrest could see her eyes
searching for him. When their gazes entwined, she smiled. A smile just for him.
His heart swelled. His friends, brother included, chuckled.

“The other…” She broke
their connection and dragged her attention away and focused
on her fans. “Well…” She smiled again. “Love is a funny
thing. Wouldn’t you say?” His heart pounded fiercely in his chest. She sat on a
stool and grabbed the guitar. The musicians faded in the background. “Ladies
and gentlemen,
Tattooed Hearts
.”

The lights
dimmed for the second time in the night, and a bright
spotlight was put on her face. Smoke danced in the bottom of the floor to the
stage, tricking the eyes to believe she was nothing but a shadowy figure. Like
everyone one in the room, Forrest stood stil
l in an
altered state of consciousness.

She inhaled deeply,
savoring the moment, and started to sing.

In the arithmetic of love, one plus one
equals everything,

And two minus one equals nothing.

Front and center was
Claire’s primal voice. A mixture of
soul and blues,
it was dark, guttural, and romantic.

It is a cruelty of life that a heart can
keep on beating
even after it has been

broken in two.

Her voice trailed…weak and
defenseless. Her fingers moved along the strings and produced a sweet refrain t
hat spoke a musical language to the soul. Forrest stood a
little straighter, her words flowing through him.

It can feel as though it is being gripped in
an ice-cold vise,

and ache as if it will implode in your chest,

but still the boom-boom continues.

The strumming sound had a hypnotic
soothing quality that Forrest craved.

I never said what I wanted to say, but I fell
for you harder than a slip on

black ice.

I wish I could turn the clock,

I would have never left and would have loved
you longer.

It was always you…Can’t fight these feelings
for you.

I came back for you,

She looked emotionally wounded. Her
voice turned from delicate to fierce in an instant. Dark and painful. It sent
goosebumps down his spine.

I opened my mouth…nervous about what would come
out,

But then I saw your face and all of my worries
escaped me…because…

Well…your name is tattooed in my heart.

Her voice carried around
the room in waves, feathery as she sang the lyrics. Each word framed in
vulnerability but strong, at the same
time. There
were no victims in the song. It was a metaphor for first love, in all its
intensities.

When she stopped singing,
there was a brief silence, like an indrawn breath, as if everyone could still
hear the last vocal her lips touched. Then there was
a
massive round of applause, praising and raising the roof a few inches.

“Looks like you’re seeing
Claire for the first time.” Jason patted him on the back then headed back to
the stage.

Once there,
Jason
pulled Claire into a bear
hug, a proud smile on his
face. The sight did
something to Forrest’s heart. Not out of jealousy or envy, but admiration of
the depth of their friendship.

“Isn’t she awesome?” Jason
asked into the microphone when he finally stepped away from Claire. A
rhetorical question of course
, but the spectators
hailed their approval.

“And a big thank you to
Amber for helping us rock the house,” Claire added, a reminder she had a
special guest. “I convinced Jay and Adam to give me a few minutes to sign
autographs, take pictures and all of that
stuff. So
come on over, but don’t trample me. I have a big bodyguard in the back of the
room. Right, Forrest?”

She called him out, which
had his heart go into a funny little beat in his chest. Her minions turned
,
followed her gaze and
appraised him. Even
the fuckers he’d known all of his
life seemed to be pondering if he was good enough for their Claire.

It took longer than
Forrest anticipated to exit Vapor. Everyone wanted a piece of the woman he
couldn’t wait to get in his bed, under him, on top of him.
Whatever—he desperately needed to touch and kiss every inch
of her. Maybe it was because a part of him tonight felt her slipping away once
more, only this time she wasn’t running. She had become so much more than the
girl he fell in love with eons ago.

Han
ds weaved
together
,
they made their way to his
Jeep. Camera flashes popped from every angle, almost blinding him. Questions
were thrown at them.

Is this your boyfriend, Claire?

Are you Mr. Peters?

Is it true the two of you are getting married soon?

A
close source said you’re
pregnant. How far along are you?

She felt small around him,
but not from fear or vulnerability. Quite the opposite, she seemed in total
control. He squeezed her hand, more so for his own reassurance, and opened the
door for her. T
hey drove in silence. Her head thrown
back, eyes closed.

“You were great tonight,”
he said, much more mildly than he felt.

In his peripheral, he
caught her turn to face him. Taking his eyes off the road for a second, he
allowed himself to drink her beauty.
She took one of
his hands and pressed her face into it. “Do you ever wish you could freeze a
moment?”

Them. Forever.
Forrest clenched his jaw. “Yes.”

“What’s yours?”

He had so many, most of
them involved her. “Tonight, watching you perform.”

“Having you t
here made it special. You made me high.”

She closed her eyes again.
She appeared content, at peace. Something buzzed. From the corner of his eye,
he watched her fumble through her tiny purse and pull out her phone. A little
gasp escaped her lips.

“What’s g
oing on?”

“I need to go back to
L.A.”

He glanced at her pinched
brow. A heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach. This was ridiculous. He
knew she eventually had to leave. “When?”

“Tomorrow. As soon as I
can,” she whispered.

He nodded. He
understood.
She was temporary. He knew that all
along.

“I’m getting a
humanitarian award,” she explained. “I need to be there.”

He nodded again.

“Forrest.”

A muscle twitched
involuntarily at the corner of his right eye. “Claire.”

“Come with me.”

The sound of her voic
e, almost pleading, made his heart squeeze hard. He glanced
at her for a quick second. “What?”

She shifted her body so
that she was looking at him. “I have to attend this event. I can’t skip this.
Just for the weekend. We go tomorrow and return Sunday nigh
t.” She let out a deep breath. “Come with me. I’m not ready
to let you go.”

“The weekend,” he said,
mentally giving consideration to her invitation. What could go wrong with
spending a night in her world? Of course, this would only delay the inevitable.
Bu
t his heart, locked up for so long, now high on
Claire wanted a little more.

“Yes.”

Emotions tugged at his
heartstrings. A little voice told him to bolt, to run, to get the fuck away.
They had an expiration date and this trip might be it. Instead, he took
her hand and brought it to his lips. “All right. I’ll get a
ticket when I get home.”

“No need. I’ll have my
assistant arrange everything. Thank you.”

He peered at her again. A
faint smile touched her lips. She looked relieved as her fingers texted away.
So
was he, at least for now because with a grim
sinking feeling in his gut, he also wasn’t ready to let her go.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.”

Anonymous

Claire stepped inside the chic lounge. And just like
that, she was back to the life she walked away from a month
ago. It felt strange being here after so long, as if she no longer belonged in
the city of dreams, the City of Angels. A city blessed and cursed with a
glorious dream and façade of hopes.

Her plac
e of residence for the
last six years.

While she liked living here, she hadn’t missed it. Thoughts
of her life here surfaced once or twice, but nothing that sent her spiraling or
wishing she’d been here instead of the Vineyard with friends, family, but
most of all with the man standing quietly by her side.

She glanced at Forrest. His face revealed nothing. If ever
there was such a thing as a fairy godmother, she’d wish for the ability to
penetrate his thoughts. Maybe obtain the superpowers of Jean Gray o
r Professor X just so she could get a peek of his mind.

Dressed in dark denims, a white button down, and a navy
blue blazer, he appeared relax and in total control. But she knew he was taking
in every detail of the environment. The luxury four-story apartm
ent house was the epitome of L.A. living. The Wetherly
House featured stunning interiors with sophisticated open spaces and clean
contemporary lines, theme-centric artwork everywhere. The sixty-five exclusive
residences were complimented by stunning views
to
L.A. Basin, close access to trendy hot spots when one wanted to see or be seen.
The building was living elevated to an art.

“Ready?” she asked. The question wasn’t particularly
addressed to Forrest. If anything, it was an attempt to break the silence be
tween them.

“Let’s go.” He offered her the typical Forrest smile,
captured her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze.

They headed to the concierge to retrieve her mail. On most
days, she blended well with everyone. The complex was small, private, and oth
er well-established entertainers either lived there
permanently or kept a temporary place for when they were in L.A. But today, a
few glances, from men and women, lingered longer than necessary. When they
pulled away, it was with obvious reluctance, especi
ally
the women. Not that she blamed them. For as long as she could remember Forrest
always attracted attention. Why should today be any different?

If anything, she should have expected it. He fit right in
and could easily pass for someone in the entertainm
ent
industry. Yet, his composure indicated this wasn’t his world. Not that he gave
any hint of uneasiness. Nope. Not Forrest.

He just…well…stood out.

Everything about him screamed confidence and in total
control.

“Ms. Peters,” the attractive clerk said wit
h a smile. Her gaze flicked over to Forrest for a beat too
long, then back to Claire. “Your assistant,” she stared, stopped to clear her
throat. “Your assistant asked us to hold some communications here for you,” she
continued and handed a thick yellow env
elope to
Claire.

“Thanks, Julie.”

“Welcome home. We missed you here,” she said, visibly
struggling not to stare at Forrest.

She smiled, but inside her heart faltered. The Wetherly
House had never been home, but it was her reality. Forrest had officially en
tered her world. He got a peek of who she’d become during
the performance at Vapor, but to be here fully immersed in her element meant he
was about to get a full view. Not that she had anything to hide, but
insecurities crept. What if
Claire
Peters
the Sta
r
was too much to be with?

Last night had been a glimpse of her lifestyle, not even
close to the high-speed pace of her daily grind. She stopped midstride and
scraped a hand through her hair, suddenly nervous. Forrest didn’t hesitate.
There was an ease in
everything he did. His hand
stroked up and down the curves of her back, an attempt to ease away her
worries.

“You’re nervous,” he said, lowering his head so that his
lips brushed her ear.

Funny, she shouldn’t be. This was her territory. She should
feel at
ease…
at home
. But even the salty air and
sand here failed to come close to life on the Vineyard. As for her condo here,
it was best classified as a place of refuge after the stress of the day. But
her heart—that always longed to be with Forrest. Now he was
by her side, taking in everything…well, yeah, nervous
didn’t come close to what she was feeling.

She took a deep breath, and forced herself to move forward.
“Um, no…” Never mind she visibly jumped at the touch.

“Yeah, you are,” he continued. “No need to
be. Come on,” he nudged her forward. “I want to know all
you’ve become. I love what I’ve seen so far.”

With his words, she felt the heavy weight of tension lift.
As soon as she closed the door of her two-bedroom, he put his bag down and
dropped his jacket
on top of the leather bag. Then he
stepped further into the living room and into her world, causing a fleet of
nerves to settle in her belly once again.

His gaze swept over the open kitchen sea pearl counters,
the custom oak cabinetry with polished chrome.
He
paused and inspected the vase of fresh yellow flowers James sent over to
welcome her back.

“From James.”

He nodded. “Your manager?”

“Yes. He plays Charles’ role here for me.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he said nothing. He took a
few steps further
inside the living room, lingering
over the decorative details fabricated from natural materials carefully chosen
by Claire that helped contributed to the understated elegance.

“Your place is beautiful,” Forrest noted.

“Thanks. I like it here.” That wasn’t
a lie. It might not be
home
, but a true home was a feeling, not a
place.

His eyes stayed on her for a bit. “It suits you.”

She pursed her lips, the tone of his voice revealed
nothing, but the words failed to come across as a compliment. Her stomach
shifted uneasily, anxiety smashed around her inside. She watched Forrest as he
walked to the strut bookcase and scanned her pictur
es.
A few highlighted her career, events she attended, there was one with her
mother with Charles, another with Keely and the others, and one of her at the
farm surrounded with the four of guys. He picked up a picture. A photo of the
two of them together a
t her eighteenth birthday
party, her arms linked behind his neck, her face tilted up to his, a smile on
their lips.
Jason had mailed her the frame picture
after she left with a note that simply
read:
I hope you don’t ever forget what you left behind
.

“Clai
re,” he said turning to look
at her. “How did your other boyfriends feel seeing this picture here? I know
there were at least two after me.”

The thought never crossed her mind. It had been natural to
keep the picture on display, a reminder of what she once
had and lost. “I never gave it much consideration. Selfish of me.”

Nonetheless, it felt good to know he somewhat kept track of
her life. The two serious boyfriends he referred to had been nice, kind, and
wanted to give her the world. But they failed to em
erge
and take over the spot Forrest had in her heart. The picture probably sealed
her fate with them from the word go.

“Any regrets?”

“No.” The only regret she had was the time they’d lost.

After he placed the picture back, he closed the space
between them
. “I’m sorry. I was so caught up in my
hurt that I avoided all you’ve become. I’m proud and happy for you.”

She smiled. “I grew up.”

“I’ve noticed.” His eyes were fixed on her. “I’ve always
noticed even when I acted like I didn’t,” he said, and his voice w
as deep, with the slightest rasp to it, like velvet that
had a rough edge.

That edge sent a charge through her. Or maybe it was his
words. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her to him. “How
much time do we have befor
e the gala?”

Looping her arms around his neck, she pressed against him,
loving how strong and hard he felt against her. “I have to get my hair and
makeup done. You’re coming with?”

“Not to the makeup part, but I have every intention of
coming with you,” he
said with a sexy glint in his
eyes.

She laughed, the residual tension of the day easing away.
“Then that gives us a couple of hours. How much time do you need?”

“A lifetime,” he said, and brushed his lips against hers.

Claire’s heart kicked. She told the
stupid muscle to calm down.
It’s just an expression, not
a proposal.

“But,” he continued, his lips now trailing down her neck.
“For now a couple of hours will do.”

“Bedroom is…whoa!” She laughed as he swept her off her feet
and into his arms again. “I
might get used to this.”

He kissed her again. “Not might. You should. Bedroom.”

She gestured with one arm then quickly held on to him again
and told the angst in her stomach to get the hell out of town. They were going
to work out and find their happily
ever after. They
had to.

* * * *

Hours later, after spending most of the day in bed with
Claire, Forrest’s steady gaze stayed on her as she moved about her bedroom. To
the naked eye, she appeared so prim and proper in a lacy, knee-length navy
dress. Only
the sensuously cut silhouettes gave
gawkers like him a hint of skin to admire, adding an understated sexiness to
the outfit. Her hair,
pinned in a French twist
,
adding a flair of elegance
.

She looked sexy and classy in that
I’m-a-Superstar, you can look
but
can’t touch
kind of way.

But he’d touched and he wanted to keep touching, again, and
again, until they were exhausted. She slipped into a pair of black pumps with a
strap across the top of her feet. He examined the
heels
,
they had to be at least four
inches. He never understood why women put themselves
through hours in these barely-there stilts, but even he had to admit they made
her kick-ass legs look so fucking amazing it made him ache for physical contact
once more. When she lowered to fasten the st
rap, he
caught her hand. Her brown eyes smiled at him.

She looked like pure sex.

“Let me do that,” he said, and dropped to his knees in
front of her. But first his hands skimmed over her hips down her toned legs. As
he secured her shoes, she raked her hand
through his
hair, forcing him to look at her.

“This is pretty sexy,” she said in a feathery voice, her
eyes now intense and serious.

His heart galloped. Need coursed through his veins. All he
wanted was to bury his face between her legs again. But restrai
nt was the most powerful aphrodisiac of all. Slowly his
hands glided down her legs and back up again, beneath the skirt of her dress.
He squeezed her ass, then rose to his feet.

Forrest blew out a long stream of air. He was officially
addicted. Hell, when
it came to Claire, he’d been a
junkie since puberty hit him. Putting some distance between them, he swore
under his breath.