It Must Be Your Love
Page 5
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Her body felt strange, her mouth dry, her hands and feet tingling...and her heart was pounding way too hard. Trying to regain her bearings, she turned away from the stage and scanned the crowd for her friends. She needed another drink to wet her throat and then, even though it wasn’t all that late, maybe she’d head back home.
But instead of finding any of her colleagues in the crowd that seemed to have quadrupled during the amazing first song, all she could see were dozens gorgeous girls who would clearly do anything to score a night in the singer’s bed.
“You’re one hell of an audience, aren’t you?”
Ford’s question, spoken in that low voice that ran shivers of need through Mia’s entire body, had the crowd shouting and screaming back that they loved him, that he was their hero, that he could have them any way he wanted them.
“I was already going to make it good for you,” he said in a voice laced with sexual undertones, “but now you’ve got me wanting to make it really good.”
She swore she could feel his gaze burning a hole through her as he spoke, and something told her his words weren’t just meant for the audience...but as a challenge for her because he’d seen that she was about to leave.
Mia had never been afraid of anything in her life. Plus, she couldn’t stop asking herself, if one look—if just the sound of his voice—could affect her so deeply, what would one touch do? One kiss?
She shivered at the delicious thought of those hands that worked over his electric guitar with such reverence doing the same over her naked skin. She was here to celebrate, after all, and what could one hot night with a rocker hurt?
When she finally turned to face the stage, Ford raised his eyebrow as if in question. She let her lips lift into an answering smile. A smile that said, “If you want a night with me, rock star, you’re going to have to earn it.”
And that night, when he finally got her into his bed, did he ever...
Chapter Three
Beautiful.
Looking at her standing there surprised—and then, a moment later, utterly furious—Mia Sullivan was still the most beautiful woman Ford had ever seen.
She’d also been approximately ten feet away the first time he’d ever set eyes on her in the middle of the crowded dance floor, wearing a little silver dress, the tips of her blond hair just sweeping over the swells of her br**sts. That night in Seattle, the way she’d looked as she closed her eyes to move to the song he’d written—so sensual that he’d almost forgotten the lyrics—had made it impossible to look away. And when she’d opened her eyes and looked at him, he’d felt the impact of it like a bass drum reverberating all the way into his soul.
That night, he’d desperately wanted to know how soft her skin would feel beneath his calloused fingertips, how sweet her mouth would taste against his, and how good it would be to hold her. Five years later, he could still remember how he could never get enough of touching her, caressing every one of her sweet curves and sinful hollows over and over until both of them were driven nearly mad with desire.
That night in the club, her tiny little dress had showed off her incredible legs, but somehow, in the pale-yellow wrap dress she had on now, her legs looked even sexier. Her hair was a little longer now, but her eyes were just as bright a blue and her full red mouth was slightly damp, as if she’d licked her lips just before walking through the doorway.
But it wasn’t just her beauty that stunned him...it was the music that came into the room with her. She’d inspired his greatest songs five years ago—for one week straight he’d either been making love to her or notating the endless riffs and lyrics that were streaming into his head. The longer they’d been apart, the less freely the music had come.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Damn, he thought as her eyes sparked with heat and fury, she was spectacular. “You’re even prettier than I remember.”
He thought he saw pleasure at his honest compliment flash in her eyes before rage returned.
“And you’re an even bigger jackass than I remember.” Her voice was steady, but not at all cool, as she told him, “Now that you’ve had your fun, I want you to get the hell out of this house so I can lock it up and get on with my day.”
Ford wanted to drag her into his arms. He’d never forgotten, not for one single second of the past five years, how perfectly they’d fit together. But for now, he had no doubt whatsoever that touching Mia—or worse, grabbing her—was completely forbidden.
Seeing just how angry she was, Ford knew he needed to tread carefully. It wouldn’t be enough just to say he was sorry for being an immature jerk five years ago and for not realizing it sooner, no matter how true that was. Mia clearly wouldn’t believe he meant a word of it. Not yet, anyway.
So instead of making the mistake of trying, and failing, to woo her back into his arms with soft words, Ford planned to take a very different approach. Namely, by playing off the intense sparks of attraction that were clearly just as strong between them now as they’d been years before.
“I thought,” he said while leaning against the stone wall as if he were perfectly at ease, “that showing me this house is your day.”
“For your information,” she said as she advanced toward him, her gorgeous chest rising and falling beneath the soft fabric of her pretty dress, her eyes flashing, her skin flushed with emotion, “if I’d had even the slightest inkling that you were going to be my anonymous client, I would have said no so fast your lawyer’s head would still be spinning.”
“Really?” Ford made sure the one word out of his mouth was right in the gray area between a question and a taunt, even though he’d set himself up as her anonymous client to make absolutely sure they would come face to face again. “You wouldn’t have wanted the chance to see me again after all these years?”
At that, one of her eyebrows rose. “I get that you’re a raging egomaniac, but even you can’t possibly be serious.” She laughed then, but it was a bitter sound. “Why on earth would you think I would ever want to see you again?”
Because you never stopped loving me, the way I now know I never stopped loving you, was the answer he hoped like hell was still in her heart, even if it was buried way down deep. But since he knew he had years of anger to make up for first, he said, “From this distance, you could do a lot of damage to me with the heel of your shoe.” As her expression told him she was actually considering it, he added, “And just think of the other ways you could mess me up if you got even closer.”
But instead of finding any of her colleagues in the crowd that seemed to have quadrupled during the amazing first song, all she could see were dozens gorgeous girls who would clearly do anything to score a night in the singer’s bed.
“You’re one hell of an audience, aren’t you?”
Ford’s question, spoken in that low voice that ran shivers of need through Mia’s entire body, had the crowd shouting and screaming back that they loved him, that he was their hero, that he could have them any way he wanted them.
“I was already going to make it good for you,” he said in a voice laced with sexual undertones, “but now you’ve got me wanting to make it really good.”
She swore she could feel his gaze burning a hole through her as he spoke, and something told her his words weren’t just meant for the audience...but as a challenge for her because he’d seen that she was about to leave.
Mia had never been afraid of anything in her life. Plus, she couldn’t stop asking herself, if one look—if just the sound of his voice—could affect her so deeply, what would one touch do? One kiss?
She shivered at the delicious thought of those hands that worked over his electric guitar with such reverence doing the same over her naked skin. She was here to celebrate, after all, and what could one hot night with a rocker hurt?
When she finally turned to face the stage, Ford raised his eyebrow as if in question. She let her lips lift into an answering smile. A smile that said, “If you want a night with me, rock star, you’re going to have to earn it.”
And that night, when he finally got her into his bed, did he ever...
Chapter Three
Beautiful.
Looking at her standing there surprised—and then, a moment later, utterly furious—Mia Sullivan was still the most beautiful woman Ford had ever seen.
She’d also been approximately ten feet away the first time he’d ever set eyes on her in the middle of the crowded dance floor, wearing a little silver dress, the tips of her blond hair just sweeping over the swells of her br**sts. That night in Seattle, the way she’d looked as she closed her eyes to move to the song he’d written—so sensual that he’d almost forgotten the lyrics—had made it impossible to look away. And when she’d opened her eyes and looked at him, he’d felt the impact of it like a bass drum reverberating all the way into his soul.
That night, he’d desperately wanted to know how soft her skin would feel beneath his calloused fingertips, how sweet her mouth would taste against his, and how good it would be to hold her. Five years later, he could still remember how he could never get enough of touching her, caressing every one of her sweet curves and sinful hollows over and over until both of them were driven nearly mad with desire.
That night in the club, her tiny little dress had showed off her incredible legs, but somehow, in the pale-yellow wrap dress she had on now, her legs looked even sexier. Her hair was a little longer now, but her eyes were just as bright a blue and her full red mouth was slightly damp, as if she’d licked her lips just before walking through the doorway.
But it wasn’t just her beauty that stunned him...it was the music that came into the room with her. She’d inspired his greatest songs five years ago—for one week straight he’d either been making love to her or notating the endless riffs and lyrics that were streaming into his head. The longer they’d been apart, the less freely the music had come.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Damn, he thought as her eyes sparked with heat and fury, she was spectacular. “You’re even prettier than I remember.”
He thought he saw pleasure at his honest compliment flash in her eyes before rage returned.
“And you’re an even bigger jackass than I remember.” Her voice was steady, but not at all cool, as she told him, “Now that you’ve had your fun, I want you to get the hell out of this house so I can lock it up and get on with my day.”
Ford wanted to drag her into his arms. He’d never forgotten, not for one single second of the past five years, how perfectly they’d fit together. But for now, he had no doubt whatsoever that touching Mia—or worse, grabbing her—was completely forbidden.
Seeing just how angry she was, Ford knew he needed to tread carefully. It wouldn’t be enough just to say he was sorry for being an immature jerk five years ago and for not realizing it sooner, no matter how true that was. Mia clearly wouldn’t believe he meant a word of it. Not yet, anyway.
So instead of making the mistake of trying, and failing, to woo her back into his arms with soft words, Ford planned to take a very different approach. Namely, by playing off the intense sparks of attraction that were clearly just as strong between them now as they’d been years before.
“I thought,” he said while leaning against the stone wall as if he were perfectly at ease, “that showing me this house is your day.”
“For your information,” she said as she advanced toward him, her gorgeous chest rising and falling beneath the soft fabric of her pretty dress, her eyes flashing, her skin flushed with emotion, “if I’d had even the slightest inkling that you were going to be my anonymous client, I would have said no so fast your lawyer’s head would still be spinning.”
“Really?” Ford made sure the one word out of his mouth was right in the gray area between a question and a taunt, even though he’d set himself up as her anonymous client to make absolutely sure they would come face to face again. “You wouldn’t have wanted the chance to see me again after all these years?”
At that, one of her eyebrows rose. “I get that you’re a raging egomaniac, but even you can’t possibly be serious.” She laughed then, but it was a bitter sound. “Why on earth would you think I would ever want to see you again?”
Because you never stopped loving me, the way I now know I never stopped loving you, was the answer he hoped like hell was still in her heart, even if it was buried way down deep. But since he knew he had years of anger to make up for first, he said, “From this distance, you could do a lot of damage to me with the heel of your shoe.” As her expression told him she was actually considering it, he added, “And just think of the other ways you could mess me up if you got even closer.”
