In the next instant, a wailing intro flowed out from the lead guitar, almost insubstantial in the air without the other instruments. Emma waited for Danny, the lead singer to step up to the microphone, but instead it was Marc who moved forward to the mic on the stand in front of him. His deep bass voice blended perfectly with the mournful sound of the guitar. He looked straight at her, his arm outstretched, his hand pointing in her direction.
“There she is, Music Lady…”
One long underscoring note on the bass.
“All I want, all I need. Music Lady…”
Another long, resonating note.
Emma felt as if her entire body had turned inside out and chills raced through her. Music Lady! He was singing about her and the words were pure poetry, about a love like no other. Strong. Forever. A forever love. He was singing a love song for her!
Ohmigod!
She clutched Annie’s hand, squeezing it.
“…And lives in my heart forever, Music Ladyyyyyy.”
Her own heart cracked and swelled, packed with all the emotion she had guarded so carefully. The words poured out to her so powerfully they reached every corner of her being.
Then the tap, tap, tap percussive staccato of the drums, the harmony from the lead singer and finally the full-bodied bottom of the bass. As the full crashing sound of the song exploded, Marc’s body began to move with it as he usually did. The song reminded Emma of Eric Clapton’s original version of Layla in its heavy sound and power and intensity. She stood completely immobile the entire time the song played, enraptured, until the final notes blasted out into the air and died away. When it was finished she was weak, unsure if she could keep standing. The applause was deafening and sustained. People whistled and shouted.
Vaguely she heard Rick say, “Thank you. We’ll be back in a few.”
Annie was shaking her arm to get her attention, pulling her back to earth. “Here comes Marc.”
And then he was there. Right in front of her. The heat in his gaze burned into her, searing her soul. People were trying to talk to him, sliding curious glances at her at the same time, but he ignored them all.
“You came.”
She nodded, staring up at him. “I did.”
“We need to get out of here.”
“Hi!” Annie interjected. “I’m Annie. Remember me?”
“Yeah, sure.” But he didn’t stop staring at Emma’s face.
“Uh, just so you know, I drove her,” Annie told him. “She doesn’t have her car with her so if I leave, she’s got no ride home.”
“I got it covered,” Marc said, already moving Emma toward the back door.
Emma was hit with a sudden case of nerves.
What’s going to happen? What will he say? Will he listen to me? Will he—shut up, Emma. You came here to do something. Give it a chance. Let him know you’ve finished growing up and you want a life with him. In his world.
The guy with the clipboard smiled at them and swung the door open. “Fifteen minutes,” he reminded Marc.
“Got it.”
Marc had a firm grip on her elbow as he walked them to the farthest corner of the lot, away from the smokers and the direct beam of the parking lot lights. When they stopped, he turned her to face him, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her as if he’d never stop. His tongue was a living flame, sweeping every surface, sliding across her own small one, sucking it into his mouth. His fingers threaded through her hair as his hands cupped her head, moving it this way and that to give himself a better angle. When he pressed his body against hers, she could feel the hard thickness of his erection even through two layers of clothing.
They stopped only to drag air into oxygen-deprived lungs but he never let go of her, fingers curved around her skull and holding it so he could look directly into her eyes.
She tried to read his face but he was doing a good job of keeping it blank. Damn!
At last he spoke. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“I wasn’t sure I wanted to see you again.”
“I figured.” He brushed his thumbs along her cheekbones. “What changed your mind?”
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “My friend Annie told me I’d probably break both legs jumping to conclusions, that I needed to quit running away from things and should have given you a chance to explain.”
That special Marc smile curved his lips. “Remind me to send Annie a dozen roses.”
“She also said if I cared for you, I needed to talk to you.”
His dark irises were like lasers boring into her. “And do you? Care for me, Music Lady?”
“Y-Yes.” She wet her lips. “I-I do. Guitar Man.”
“Good. Because I care for you, too.” He looked at her as if he wanted to see every thought running around in her head. “I love you, ML. I want a life with you. A home. Kids.” He grinned. “Breakfast. You stole my heart and I never want it back.”
Relief swept through her. She hadn’t blown it after all. But she sure as hell had probably run out of chances. “I’ll do my best to take good care of it.” Her voice was shaky. “You wrote the song for me.” She hardly believed it.
“My heart was breaking.” His expression was pained. “I had to do something. I made the band rehearse it so if you ever showed up we could play it.”
Her heart was beating so hard she could hear it hammering against her ribs. “I love it.”
“I love you.” He kissed her again, long and deeply, as if he’d
