The Song in My Heart (13 page)

Dess leaned against the trailer and crossed her arms over her chest. “No. I didn’t. But I was a little worried, yes. I’ve seen too many promising young talents go down that path of excess. First it was just for fun, then it became an addiction. And then, for many of them, it became a one-way ticket to an early grave. And that was after it had already destroyed their career and any meaningful relationship they’d ever had.”

Erika blew out her breath.
Wow, she sure isn’t holding anything back
. “Fine. I understand. But I’m not like that. And I’m not some kid you have to watch over constantly. Or that you have to lecture about every little possible thing that could happen, okay? You’re going to have to trust me to learn some things as I go along. And right now, I don’t think you trust me worth a shit.”

Dess’s eyes flashed in temper before softening considerably. “You’re right. You’re not a kid, and I don’t want to be anybody’s mother. I’m working on the trust thing, okay?”

Erika stepped closer. “Every day, I wake up hoping that this is the day you start seeing me as a woman. A woman who’s much more than a fledgling, desperate wannabe kneeling at the great Dess Hampton’s feet.” Moving another step closer, Erika placed her hands against the trailer alongside Dess’s head. “I want you,” she whispered, “to see me as a grown woman with my own thoughts, dreams, ideas, opinions, experiences. And desires.”

She leaned her head down, her lips an inch from Dess’s forehead, their bodies only a finger’s width apart. She wanted to prove to Dess that she was a woman, a contemporary in every way. And she wanted Dess to acknowledge it with more than mere words. “Do you accept that I’m a woman and not a child who needs to be coddled and corrected all the time?”

Dess trembled ever so slightly, and it took all of Erika’s willpower not to wrap her arms around her.

“Tell me,” Erika quietly urged.

“I…”

Dess’s eyes closed, and she tilted her chin up. Blood pounded in Erika’s ears as she waited for Dess to make the next move. God, how she wanted Dess to throw all of that damned caution of hers to the wind, to pull down the barriers she had planted firmly between herself and the rest of the world. But that was unlikely to happen.

Lips brushed suddenly against Erika’s mouth, tentative at first. And then Dess began kissing her hard and with desperation, and their mouths were on fire, their need for physical connection overriding everything else. The flames ignited by the kiss scorched Erika’s soul, leaving her breathless and desperate to hang onto her self-possession, her sanity, because the intensity of their mutual desire was stealing all sense of reason. She rocked into Dess, her body pushing, fusing into Dess’s body, wanting nothing more than to take and be taken. Their unified heat melded with the heat of the kiss, which deepened with every racing heartbeat. Dess moaned from deep down, and her voice released something that had been knotted up inside Erika. She wanted to melt with this woman. Wanted to spill everything that was inside her into this capable woman, where she knew she would be sheltered, nurtured, cherished. Maybe even loved.

“Oh, Dess,” Erika whispered urgently, pulling her mouth away and sliding it along Dess’s jaw. She planted delicate kisses on the soft skin. “You undo me, do you know that? I can’t think right now, I can only do. And I want to touch you. All over.”

Dess placed her hand on Erika’s chest and gently pushed her back. It was the tiniest move, but it felt like a giant fissure had suddenly opened between them. “I started this, I need to stop it,” she said in a breathless stream. Her eyes were shining, and Erika imagined they were shining with desire. Or perhaps something greater.

“No,” Erika whispered, her body quickly making up the distance between them.

“Yes.”

I did that
, Erika thought with satisfaction as she watched Dess’s chest rapidly rise and fall, saw that her cheeks were flushed pink. Dess couldn’t really want to stop, in spite of her words to the contrary.
Could she?

“Why do we have to stop?” We’re just getting started, she wanted to add, picturing the dozens of pleasurable things she’d love to do with Dess right now.

Dess shook her head, more determined this time. “No, Erika. We can’t. We’re working together. We have to be—”

“What? Professional? Perfect every minute? We’re human, not machines. And we have feelings for each other.”

“No, we don’t. We’re friends. Friends who also work together. I don’t want to do anything that’s going to upset the working relationship between the three of us.”

Erika leaned close enough to whisper in Dess’s ear. “I know you have feelings for me. Feelings that go beyond a professional relationship. Just as I have feelings for you.” Softly, with one finger, she traced along Dess’s jaw and silently celebrated the responding tremor. “We can at least be honest with each other about that.”

“You don’t understand.” Something in Dess’s voice alarmed Erika, and when she looked into Dess’s eyes, there were tears.

Oh God
, she thought with a quiet gasp that sent a shockwave through her.
Somebody’s hurt you. Hurt you so badly that they’ve wrecked you for anybody else.
She stepped back, took Dess’s hands in hers. “Okay. Fine. But I’m not giving up on you, Dess Hampton.”

Erika walked back into the trailer and hopped up into her bunk, sliding the curtain across for privacy. She laid back and, frustrated but keyed up, finally smiled to herself.
If Dess Hampton won’t sleep with me, maybe Dora Hessler will.

Chapter Eleven

The hour-long workshop teaching kids how to play guitar flew by and was far more fun than Dess would have predicted. The dozen youngsters were all very eager and attentive, all of them little sponges anxious to learn the three chords and three simple nursery rhymes she showed them. Their fingers were so tiny, but so nimble on the fret board, and she envied their lack of fear. And the music! How refreshing it was to break things down to their simplest root notes and strum patterns. When the kids played back what she taught them, Dess nearly danced with joy at the magic of it all, at the kids reminding her of the pure joy of making music.

Equal to her pleasure with teaching was her relief at having a temporary distraction from thoughts of Erika. And, above all, from that sizzling, mind-blowing, knee-buckling kiss last night. She hadn’t planned the kiss. Hadn’t thought of anything before she’d leaned in and done it. She had simply acted. Or perhaps it was a reaction to all that chemistry sizzling between them, like a hot frying pan full of oil. Being alone with Erika was increasingly full of temptation. If she broke it down, she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was drawing her like a magnet to the singer. She was gorgeous, yes, her body was exquisitely sexy, yes, her voice…her voice was ethereal and out of this world, for sure, and her eyes were fathomless and full of a thousand different emotions. She was talented, she was funny, she was smart, she was warm. But hadn’t Dess met a thousand women like her over the last two decades? Ten thousand?

Clearly not, because she couldn’t stop thinking about Erika. And her control? Her control was increasingly in tatters.
Ha, what control?
At this rate, just weeks into their four-month tour, they’d wind up in bed any day now and would probably be married by the end of it if she didn’t get a grip.

Packing up her guitar in its hard-shell case, Dess thought about the two words rolling around in her head. “Bed” and “married.” Two words that couldn’t be more incongruous with her life at the moment. She’d never wanted to marry anyone, not even Dayna (
thank God!
), having long ago concluded that if it was going to happen, it would have happened by now. As for bedding women—the idea of it was alluring, but it just wasn’t in her to go off and have transitory sex with someone. The fact that she’d just now linked “bed” and “married” with thoughts of Erika had no significance whatsoever, she reassured herself. It was just the hormones and the loneliness talking.

“Ah, there you are.” Sloane marched up to her, looking uncharacteristically concerned.

“What’s up?”

“I’ll walk you back to the trailer.”

“Why, do I have a stalker or something?”

“Nope. But we do have a pesky reporter who’s started asking questions about you.”

Dess rolled her eyes and let Sloane carry her guitar case. Sloane and Erika had been scheduled to meet with a magazine reporter earlier this morning—Dess had opted out, of course. The festivals, anxious for any press coverage they could get, encouraged reporters and performers to cooperate with each other. It was a win-win for Erika, because a mention in a national music magazine, no matter how small its circulation, would boost her career.

“Was this reporter asking general questions about me? Or should I be worrying that my cover has been blown?”

“No, she doesn’t know who you are,” Sloane answered. “She was curious about you because of what she called your ‘exciting’ guitar skills. Actually…” Sloane bit her bottom lip, but a grin still leaked out. “She said it was like you make love to the guitar when you’re playing.”

Dess made a face. “Thanks. I think.”

“We made some stuff up to keep her off your trail.”

“Now you’ve got me scared. Made up what kind of stuff?”

“That you have a crazy ex-husband who doesn’t need to know where you are right now.”

Dess pulled her sunglasses down so her eyes could shoot daggers at Sloane. “You didn’t.”

“Yeah, actually we did. And that you’ve spent your career being anonymous because that’s the way you want it. That you have no desire for fame and recognition. That you simply play for the love of it and all that bullshit. I think she bought it. Then we steered the conversation back to Erika.”

“So I’m safe?”

“For now, yes. But she’s covering a lot of our festivals this summer, including that big one in Wisconsin in two weeks. Let’s hope she forgets about you by then.”

Dess shrugged, perplexed as to why this reporter would be more interested in her than in Erika. Or Sloane. Both of them were supremely talented and didn’t mind giving interviews. Either way there wasn’t much she could do about it, and worrying wasn’t going to help. Besides, she had more pressing things to think about. Like the fact that Sloane was flying to Seattle for a week as soon as this weekend gig was over. She was ditching them to play a few shows with Melissa Etheridge. Which was fine, except it meant she’d be spending more time alone with Erika. And on Erika’s turf. They would spend the week of Sloane’s absence at Erika’s apartment in Minneapolis, then get ready for the Wisconsin festival. What tormented Dess was how she was going to be able to resist Erika while alone with her in a two-bedroom apartment.
Christ
, she thought, as her stomach began a gymnastics routine.

“Hey,” Sloane said softly. “It’s cool, okay? I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s okay. I’m not worried.”

“Well, you
look
worried.”

“Sorry. Just thinking about that ballad Erika and I have been working on. Sloane, I don’t know if we’re going to be able to get it done anytime soon. Or if it’s going to be good enough.”

Sloane stopped walking, forcing Dess to stop too. “What are you talking about? That song’s already fucking great. And you two have a whole week together to perfect it. Hell, you’ve got nothing else to do but write songs together. And take Maggie for walks.”

Dess turned and started walking.
Easy for you to say, Sloane. It’s going to be a little hard to write songs if we can’t keep our fucking hands off each other!

* * *

“You’re sure our trailer’s okay to park in your building’s parking lot?” It was the third time Dess had asked the same question, and it was beginning to annoy Erika.

“Yes, I’m sure. I checked with the building superintendent.”

“And they’re okay with Maggie staying in your apartment? Because she and I can get a hotel r—”

“It’s absolutely fine to have Maggie here. And I have lots of room, before you ask about that again.”
Jesus
.

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to get short with me.”

“Sorry. I’m not trying to be short with you,” Erika said. “Look, we need to work on our music, so it’ll be easier to do that if we stay together while Sloane’s away. I thought we all agreed to this?”

Dess sighed as though she were making some great sacrifice, and Erika nearly blew her top. She’d had it with the cold shoulder. Had it with Dess being dismissive and aloof since their kiss. As much as the kiss had unraveled her like a spool of thread, she wished it had never happened. Not if it was responsible for creating this gulf between them.

Erika forced herself to stay calm as they deposited their bags and guitars in her apartment. She showed Dess around, noticing that Dess practically collapsed with relief when she was shown her own bedroom. They settled Maggie in, fetching a bowl of water for her and placing her toys around the apartment so she’d feel at home. Maggie sniffed the perimeter of each room, then happily lay down in her doggie bed in the corner of the living room. Her eyes lazily watched them.

“Now,” Erika said, as Dess sat down on the couch. She tried to keep her voice level, but it was nearly impossible. She wanted to shake some sense into Dess, then kiss her madly. “You want to tell me why you’ve been acting like being around me is such a hardship? Like you’d rather be just about anywhere else?”

Dess’s mouth hung open, and for a long moment she didn’t say anything.

Erika dropped onto the sofa next to her, keeping a cushion between them. A demilitarized zone, she thought with fleeting amusement. “We need to talk about this, because I can’t spend the entire summer acting like we can barely stand each other. Not when…”

Curiosity flickered in Dess’s eyes. “Not when what?”

Okay, fine
, Erika thought. She steeled herself. The truth was going to be painful, but so be it. “Not when I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Dess’s eyes were like floodlights being switched on. If she was flattered or pleased about Erika’s confession, it quickly became buried in a streak of denial. “That’s absurd. We don’t even know each other. Six weeks ago, we hadn’t even met!”