Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (reading a book TXT) 📕

“No. No, no, no.”

Their differences continued to plague her despite his cute little Twenty Questions game and the other tidbits he’d managed to pry out of her. And what little she’d learned about him. His family. His father played guitar. He had two brothers in college. But what did his father do? His mother? She sensed a normalcy she hadn’t quite expected but there were still so many unanswered questions. And over and above it all, she was still scared. If this…thing…between them fell apart, which she kept expecting it to do, she needed to be able to hide behind the old Emma.

Annie raised her eyebrows. “Why so definite about it? What’s the problem?”

“It’s like being Music Lady is a new identity for me. Emma’s dull and boring but Music Lady is appealing and exciting. And maybe a little but mysterious.”

“So you think you can hook him by wrapping yourself in a cloak of secrecy?”

“Uh huh. That’s part of it. As Music Lady, I can be everything Emma’s not.”

Annie quirked an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Emma shrugged. “You know. Into the music.” She brushed a hand over her head. “Purple streaks in my hair.” She bit her lower lip. “Good…together with him.”

Her friend laughed. “You mean wild monkey sex, right? Ohmigod, you’re blushing! I’m right.” Then she sobered. “But even then I’ll bet he sees the essence of Emma. Did you ever stop to think what you offer might be what he really wants? Not the girls from the club scene?”

“I don’t know.” Emma pressed the icy cold glass to her forehead. “I just don’t know.”

“Well, I do.” Annie sat up and swung her legs over the side of the chair. “You’re going back to Aftershock tonight if I have to take you and dump you there myself. Holy crap, Emma. I’m so glad you broke out of your shell. Don’t crawl back in because you’re afraid of something that might not even happen.”

“I know, I know.” Emma worried a fingernail. The sad truth was she really didn’t need Annie to give her a push. She’d already decided to go back to the club. She just couldn’t make herself stay away from her Guitar Man. He’d awakened emotional and sexual feelings in her she hadn’t even known she was capable of.

“Then it’s settled. At least keep seeing him until you know what’s going to happen one way or the other.”

Her mind kept tripping over a disturbing thought, one that popped up whenever her confidence drooped. “But…what if all he wants from me is sex? What if this is just a different kind of game for him?”

“From what you’ve told me about him and the way he is with you, I don’t think that’s it. If he was just looking for a little different flavor, he’d be over it by now. But if it somehow turns out you’re right, then enjoy every minute of it while it lasts. Now come on. We need to quit lazing around and do some shopping.”

Emma frowned. “Shopping? For what?”

“Some snazzy duds so you can knock Marc’s socks off tonight.”

Hours later, she parked at the edge of the jammed lot at Aftershock, turned off the engine, and took a deep breath. She’d let Annie call the shots during their whirlwind shopping tour, and now she was geared up in a pair of tight white jeans and a hot pink tank top designed to show off every one of her assets. Her silvery blonde hair hung in shining waves to her shoulder and large gold hoops sparkled at her ears. Newly polished toenails glistened through the straps of hot pink sandals Annie had insisted on.

The old Emma was fading as the new Music Lady surged to the forefront, even though she was battling a bad case of nerves.

The moment she opened the door to the club, it was like the first night all over again. Sound blasted at her in waves, the yelling of the crowd a counterpoint to the loud volume of the music. She had to wait while the bouncer processed the people in front of her then gave him her ten dollars and held her hand out for the stamp.

“Glad to see you again.” He grinned and winked at her.

He recognized her. Emma relaxed fractionally. At least this wasn’t like walking into strange territory anymore. She’d take every advantage she could get.

The press of bodies was even tighter tonight than the first time she’d been there. She had to shove her way to the bar this time. Mostly everyone ignored her, caught up in the thrall of the music. By the time she reached the bar, she was sweaty and panting and she hadn’t been there for fifteen minutes.

“Lone Star,” she shouted at the bartender who was busy pouring three drinks at a time. She’d been drinking beer since the first night and surprisingly it wasn’t too bad. He nodded, grabbed a bottle out of the well beneath the bar, handed it to her, and took her money all without even raising his eyes. How did he even do that?

Then she was back to shoving and elbowing, ignoring glares and a few curses as she bulldozed her way to her usual spot in front of the stage. People were moving frenetically in place, and Emma couldn’t tell if they were dancing alone or with someone else.

The band was bathed in a red glow, the music heavy and wild and building to a crescendo. Marc was pulling the now familiar very erotic low sound from his guitar and leaning forward slightly to sing into the microphone in front of him. His hair, as usual, was wild around his face, the light bathing him. The sight was so sensual, Emma felt the pulsing beat all the way from her breasts to her sex and on to her toes. Her entire body seemed to be in tune with the sensual bass guitar.

And the guitarist.

The last notes of the song pierced the air and hung in the