Wedding Song Read online

  She glanced at Judd, saw the expression in his eyes. No, she wasn’t wrong about that look. Maybe, just maybe, Judd would be hers, too.

  * * *

  IF KERRY HAD IMAGINED her late dinner with Judd would be an intimate affair, she’d obviously misjudged. He’d invited three executives from other recording companies and their wives to join them at a boisterous basement restaurant with loud music and a rowdy crew of waiters wearing Rollerblades. Judd sat at the far end of the table from her, as if deliberately putting distance between them.

  “I think Judd invited us so he could gloat,” said one rotund man with glasses.

  Kerry had forgotten what company he represented. Her head was spinning from the number of people she’d met that night, and the warm glow of her triumph had faded as exhaustion took over. She wondered why Judd had invited all these people. Surely he didn’t want to give some other studio a chance at her, yet all three executives pressed business cards into her hand and predicted how much better her career would progress if she left Lighthouse and signed with them.

  She finally decided, as the long meal ended, that Judd was testing her loyalty. And perhaps her endurance, too. She’d been up since five that morning, and a glance at her watch confirmed it was after one now. Adrenaline had taken her this far, but it wouldn’t carry her much longer.

  “I think I’d better get Kerry back to her hotel,” Judd said, glancing down the table at her. “She looks whipped.”

  “It’s been quite a day.” She managed a smile.

  Judd tucked several bills into the leather-bound folder containing the tab. “This one’s on me. I figure the winner pays, right?”

  “See?” the rotund man pointed out. “He is gloating!”

  “I think the rest of us should take a trip to Eternity,” said a tall thin man with a mustache. “Like fools we’ve been expecting the talent to come to us, when actually it’s hiding out in little fishing villages in Massachusetts.”

  Kerry managed another smile as Judd helped her out of her chair. “You’ve all been great. I couldn’t have asked for a warmer welcome to New York.”

  They all chorused their goodbyes as Judd guided her past the whizzing waiters. He stopped at the reservation desk and asked the ma;afitre d’ to call a cab before taking Kerry’s elbow and escorting her up a flight of stairs to the street. “When it’s this late, I usually don’t call Zorba,” he explained. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.” But it occurred to her that her chariot had indeed turned into a yellow pumpkin and the prince didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in glass slippers. Maybe he only saw her as a commodity, after all. His intense gazes might only mean he was thinking about the profits she could make for his company. At any rate, she was too tired to dwell on the matter.

  Even at this hour vehicles still zipped down the street, horns honking. The pace never seemed to stop.

  “We’ll be sending musicians with you tomorrow night,” Judd said, standing with his hands in his pockets. “If you want any backup singers, say so. Personally, I wouldn’t—”

  “I’m not used to backup.”

  “Good.”

  She noticed someone huddled in a doorway. She couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman, but obviously the person had nowhere to go. At least the night was warm. Kerry wondered if she’d be one of the people passing out blankets to the homeless this winter. One thing was for sure, she wouldn’t be able to ignore them.

  A cab swerved to the curb and Judd helped her inside. “You don’t have to come with me,” she said as he stepped in after her.

  “I think I do.”

  She was too tired to argue with him. Probably he didn’t want to leave his precious commodity out alone at this hour. It was a very different feeling, being valued for her earning potential, instead of herself. She leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes as Judd gave the cab driver the name of the hotel. When the cab veered back into traffic, she drifted into a doze.

  In her dream she was still riding in the cab, but Judd’s behavior had changed. He cradled her in his arm and stroked her hair, not because she’d one day become a big star for Lighthouse Records, but because he cherished her. She put her arms around his neck and snuggled close, inhaling the woodsy scent of his after-shave. Even in the dream she knew this wasn’t appropriate behavior toward the CEO of the company she hoped would put her under contract, but he felt so good she couldn’t pull away.

  “Kerry.”

  She reluctantly fought her way out of sleep and opened her eyes. Two facts immediately hit her consciousness. The cab was no longer moving. And she was inside the circle of Judd’s arm, her head on his shoulder. His eyes were shadowed, and he was looking down at her, his mouth close to hers.

  She held perfectly still, caught in the warmth of her dream—if it had been a dream.

  “Witch,” he whispered, and lowered his head.

  Warm and sweet, so sweet. She moaned softly at the richness of his mouth, like dark chocolate dipped in brandy. And the promise of those lips… A world of delights shimmered in the distance, conjured up from the sensuous pressure of his mouth.

  Slowly he straightened, his gaze meshed with hers. “It’s late,” he said, his voice thick.

  What now? Should she invite him to come in with her? Or were his words a dismissal?

  He touched her cheek. “You need your sleep. Zorba will pick you up at eight.”

  A dismissal, then. Apparently he could kiss her and send her away. Was this the way men behaved in the big city? Like a person drugged, she put distance between them. He stepped out of the cab and offered his hand. She looked up at him as she climbed out.

  “You were wonderful tonight,” he said.

  Anger pierced her sensual daze, and she was tired enough not to care what she said to him. She removed her hand from his. “Referring to what, exactly? My performance at the party, my loyalty to you when other executives tried to woo me away, or my kiss? I know I’m just a small-town girl, but I haven’t a clue how to react to you.”

  He uttered a soft oath and turned away.

  “I suppose I’m showing my lack of sophistication. I suppose you kiss all the women who record for you.”

  He turned back to her, his gaze troubled. “No, I don’t.”

  “Oh. So it was a momentary lapse and now you regret it.”

  “It was a momentary lapse. I don’t regret it.”

  “Oh, really?” She stepped toward him, frustration making her bold. “Want to try it again?”

  He kept his hands at his sides, his tone mild. “More than you know.”

  “But?”

  “It wouldn’t be a good idea. For either of us.”

  “Speak for yourself,” she said, and whirled past the doorman.

  8

  A CONTROL HE DIDN’T KNOW he possessed kept him from going after her. He stood there, not giving a damn that the cab’s meter was running and the doorman was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. Which he almost had.

  Finally, when he was confident his step would take him toward the cab and not through the door of the Salisbury, he moved. His need for Kerry was getting out of hand. He’d better find a way to drain off some of that heat she was generating in him. And there was a way.

  Getting back into the cab, he gave the driver an address on Central Park West, not far from his own apartment. Even on a week night, the woman he wanted to see had never turned him away. But when the cab stopped at the elegant apartment house Judd remained seated, listening to the meter tick.

  “This is the place, mister.”

  Judd decided he must indeed be crazy. Inside this building was a remedy for satisfying his physical needs, and yet he couldn’t go in. This woman, a business executive with no time or inclination for a romantic relationship, had been his answer for quite a while. With Rachel around he hadn’t wanted complicated entanglements with the few women he’d dated.

  But tonight it felt wrong to go through that doo
r.

  “The meter’s still tickin’, so it don’t matter to me if we sit here all night,” the cabbie said.

  Judd opened the door and stepped out. He paid the cabbie and turned toward the building entrance. Then with a muttered oath he turned away. Taking off his tux jacket and slinging it over his shoulder, he started down the block toward his own apartment.

  The dense foliage of Central Park hung motionless and still, but a percussion section of insects added a Latin rhythm to the hum of passing cars. Judd’s hearing had always been acute, but tonight all his senses seemed fine-tuned. He smelled the smoke from someone’s cigarette, a lingering perfume from an open car window, the acrid scent of warm asphalt. The fabric of his clothes caressed his body as he moved.

  Ah, Kerry.

  Funny, probably some of the people at the party tonight assumed he was sleeping with her. Those who knew him well wouldn’t assume that, because the word was out among his close friends that Judd Roarke’s first priority was his daughter. They knew he’d never parade women through the apartment he shared with Rachel, or fail to come home at night, or allow himself to be the subject of rumors she’d hear. If he needed a sexual outlet, he handled that need with discretion.

  Except that tonight the old formula hadn’t applied. When he’d held Kerry as she slept on the cab ride home, an emotion more complicated than desire had circled him in its net. For some imbecilic reason, he felt compelled to be true to a woman he dared not have.

  * * *

  KERRY WORKED so hard the following day she had little time to think. From the moment she walked into the studio at eight-fifteen until Henry Gridley told her it was time to go home and change for the gig, she didn’t see daylight. Sandwiches were brought in for lunch and for the dinner they wolfed down before preparing for the evening’s performance.

  “Do any of you have families?” she asked the three men who would make up the band at Compulsions that night.

  “Sure,” said Woody, the keyboardist, around a bite of liverwurst. “I have a wife and kid, Joe has a wife and two kids. Paul’s engaged.”

  “How do you manage? Or rather, how do they manage?”

  Joe laughed. “Everybody bitches a lot, but this is what I do, and I love it. When I get into this studio, time stops for me. Nothing else is important. We shut out the world and do our music.”

  “And sometimes people get divorced over it,” Woody said. “I didn’t mention that this is my second wife.”

  “But if it’s in your blood,” Paul said, “you can’t help yourself, right, Kerry?”

  “You’re right,” Kerry said. “I’ve wanted this ever since I was a little kid.”

  Paul included them all with a wave of his ham on rye. “Same for us. We’re hard-core. Can’t be rehabilitated.”

  Kerry grinned at them, recognizing kindred spirits. It was the same bond she’d shared with the Honeymooners back in Eternity. She’d decided to give Grubby a call after her last set tonight. She might get him out of bed, but telling him about last night’s party—and all the celebrities who were there—would be worth it. Grubby would be impressed that some of the celebrities might even try and catch her show tonight.

  But Judd wouldn’t. She hadn’t seen him all day. Last night’s kiss was starting to seem like a dream.

  With a sigh she wrapped the last of her turkey sandwich and stuffed it back in the paper bag from the deli. She wasn’t very hungry, anyway.

  * * *

  THAT NIGHT when Henry Gridley called from the lobby of the Salisbury, Kerry contrasted her nervous energy with the breathless excitement she’d felt the night before when Judd had been waiting for her. Tonight was just as important to her career as the night before had been, but the bubbling magic she’d felt then was gone. Judd seemed to have taken it with him.

  Henry was short and blond with the body of a dockworker and the mind of a circus barker. As marketing director he’d already suggested to Kerry how he’d package her for the road. Kerry had an image of butcher paper and strapping tape. And when she was packaged—with a new hairstyle, sexier clothes, more elaborate makeup—would she still be Kerry Muldoon?

  “Sensational,” Henry said when he glimpsed her coming toward him in her red dress. “Maybe red will become your signature color.”

  “If I make it,” she said with a smile. “I haven’t even signed a contract yet.”

  “You will.” Henry ushered her out the door. “Judd seldom guesses wrong. He played your demo during a staff meeting today, and Erica from A and R liked what she heard. If I testify that you have a good live act, then you’re pretty much in.”

  “Then I’d better do well tonight.” Kerry said hello to Zorba and got into the limo. Amazing how the interior climate of the limo had shifted from sensuous to humdrum, she thought as she glanced at Henry.

  “I read the bio you filled out today,” he said. “Impressive musical training. You’ve obviously been preparing for this all your life. Must have been expensive.”

  “It was.” Kerry thought of the sacrifices her family had made when she was young, and how Aunt June had picked up the burden of her lesson expenses after her father died. “I was lucky to have some help along the way. Thank goodness I qualified for college scholarships, too.”

  “And you were never lured by the idea of a husband and kids?” His gaze held an interest she could easily interpret. That, coupled with his ringless left hand, told her he was assessing her availability.

  She laughed. “Get married and waste all that money and effort? Not on your life.”

  “That’s still the difficult choice we give women, I guess. It’s a shame so many guys can’t accept having a wife who wants a high-powered career.”

  She appreciated his politically correct comments, even if she suspected he was advancing his own cause. She might as well put a halt to his fishing expedition, though. Henry wasn’t her type. She shrugged. “I think romantic entanglements of any kind at this stage in my career would only be a distraction.”

  “Probably right.” He settled back in his seat, obviously taking the hint. “Marketing has been tossing around ways to promote you. We’d take the small-town angle, I think, maybe work in the Irish ancestry. When did the Muldoons first come to this country?”

  “My great-great-great-grandfather Sam, who was a wonderful singer, by the way, settled in Eternity before the Civil War. My mother’s family was English. Their line dates all the way back to the sixteen hundreds.”

  “No kidding? The Mayflower?”

  Kerry chuckled. “No. From all the people who claim to have ancestors who came over on the Mayflower, the ship would have to have been the size of an aircraft carrier.”

  “I was told my ancestors did,” Henry said somewhat stiffly.

  “Oh. Well, they probably did.” Kerry smothered a smile.

  “Anyway, we can use your early New England roots, maybe more than the Irish angle. I visualize some sort of time-travel video, maybe. A colonial costume, very demure, then switch to something ultramodern.”

  Kerry was glad she hadn’t told him about the witch and wondered if Judd would. Their discussions the night before seemed so intimate she couldn’t imagine him broadcasting what they’d said, but she still wasn’t sure he wouldn’t if he could see a way to make a profit from it. She decided to turn the tables on Henry and ask some questions of her own. “How long have you been at Lighthouse?”

  “Ever since the name change,” Henry said with a proud smile.

  “The name change?”

  “Used to be called Pegasus Records. Then that business happened with Judd’s brother, and Judd changed the name to Lighthouse. I don’t know if it was the name change, or knowing he had to take care of Rachel and provide for her future, but the label really took off after that. Judd’s probably told you the history.”

  Kerry sat forward. “Actually, no. We’ve been so busy there hasn’t been time. What happened with his brother?”

  “Killed. Drowned, actually.”

&n
bsp; Kerry put a hand to her mouth.

  “He and his wife. Boat smashed on rocks off the coast of Maine. If there’d been a lighthouse, it might have saved them. Judd had one built on that exact spot as soon as he started making big bucks.”

  Kerry began to understand. “So Rachel isn’t his daughter.”

  “Don’t let him ever hear you say that. She’s his, all right. Designated her guardian in the will. She was two when it happened, so Judd’s her daddy, far as she’s concerned.” The limo swooped into an alley and pulled up to a dingy back door with an iron gate across it. Henry glanced out the tinted windows. “Here we are. Compulsions.”

  Kerry was so busy adjusting her picture of Judd that she forgot to be nervous. So Rachel was his adopted daughter. Losing a brother like that would explain the shadows she sometimes saw in his eyes. She wondered what other unprobed depths existed beneath the seemingly calm surface of Judd Roarke. And she wanted to find out.

  In the meantime, she had a gig to do. She followed Henry down the dimly lit stairs and through a storeroom crammed with boxes of liquor. Recorded music pounded in from the front of the basement club, signaling the frantic pace of Compulsions. With a name like that, Kerry had expected as much. She’d conferred with Joe, Paul and Woody, who had agreed she should use her most energetic material for Compulsions and save most of her ballads for the Besotted Fox.

  Henry reached a heavy brocade curtain that separated the storeroom from the club. “Take a look, get a feel for the place,” he said.

  Kerry stepped forward and pulled back a small part of the curtain. The room was hazy with smoke. As she watched, the smoke changed colors as rotating spots and flashing strobes created a light show for the couples gyrating on the small dance floor or sitting hip to hip around the ebony cocktail tables. Art deco prints of broad-shouldered, angular men and women, their outlines traced in neon, covered the walls. The night before Kerry had been impressed with the spaciousness of the loft. This low-ceilinged room was a less inspiring venue.

  The band was setting up on the stage, which was crammed into one corner. The bar occupied the other front corner, and waitresses with large shoulder pads cantilevered under sleek dresses teetered on four-inch heels as they served trays of drinks. Kerry took heart from watching Woody, Paul and Joe assemble their equipment. She’d only known them two days, but that was longer than she’d known anyone else in the room.