This morning the shower was sparkling. So was the range hood.
Mark looked at his watch. “I’m gonna be late meeting Devin.”
He took the light with him. There was no question whose side Mark would be on when Devin told him about their disastrous date.
Even mistrusting Devin, Rachel had been temporarily disarmed by the Freedman charm. She still couldn’t believe she’d fallen for it. Now she would become public enemy number one.
Rachel recalled Mark’s laugh, their shared moment, and tears pricked her eyes. She hurried into the staff bathroom.
Five minutes later, Trixie barged in and found her, sitting on the floor and dabbing at her face with toilet tissue.
“Rach … ohmygod, what’s wrong?”
Her red-rimmed eyes made a denial stupid, so Rachel said what she needed to believe. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She managed a smile. “Don’t worry about it.”
Trixie’s boots squeaked as she crouched in front of her and took her hands. “Says the woman who never cries? I don’t think so.”
“Don’t give me sympathy, please. I’ll get worse.” Standing, she went to the sink and splashed her face briskly with cold water. Defeat wasn’t an option. She’d just have to think of another way to watch out for Mark. “Anyone on the counter?”
Trixie ignored her. “Didn’t the date go well?”
Better for Trixie to think that. Rachel met her assistant’s gaze in the mirror. “Devin saw your text message.”
“About screwing a rock star?” Trixie’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you tell him it was a joke?”
“Egotists rarely laugh at themselves.”
“What a butt-head.”
Rachel remembered the feel of Devin’s butt. “The misunderstanding wasn’t one-sided,” she admitted. “I should never have kissed him back.” In the cold light of day she couldn’t understand why she had.
“You kissed!”
Damn. “Let’s get back to work, hey?” She turned the handle but Trixie leaned against the door.
“Just tell me what the kiss was like.”
Fantastic. “Like kissing a wet dog. Look, the whole date was a bad idea, but no harm done.”
“Then why were you crying?”
“Because …” Unable to tell the truth, Rachel floundered.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“BECAUSEYOUACTED LIKE an asshole, Rachel’s really upset.”
Devin looked down at the baby Goth barring his way into the lecture hall. “You’re the text sender … Trixie, isn’t it? And this is another one of your oh-so-funny jokes. Because Heartbreaker doesn’t get upset, she gets mad.”
The young woman frowned. “No, this time I’m serious. I don’t know what went down, other than the fact that you kiss like a wet dog, but—”
Devin laughed. “You see? Mad.”
“You made her cry.”
“I doubt that.” He tried to step past her; she blocked him.
“I found her in tears this morning. She tried to make light of it, but Rachel never cries. I mean never. Even when her dad died a couple of years back.”
He didn’t need this. It had been enough placating Mark. Devin figured he wasn’t due to make another apology for at least a year. “You’re making too big a deal of this.”
“You mean it isn’t a big deal to you,” said Trixie. “But it must be a big deal to Rachel or she wouldn’t be so upset. She’s not like us. She’s led a sheltered life and hasn’t learned to protect herself.”
Devin recalled Rachel’s well-placed knee. “Trust me, she can take care of herself.”
“I mean emotionally,” Trixie said impatiently. “She doesn’t protect herself against being hurt.”
He wasn’t used to being taken to task over bad behavior. The band had been on the road so much it was easy to sidestep consequences, and if they hadn’t been touring … well, there was the house in Barbados to escape to if he needed to get out of L.A. for a while.
“I’ll think about apologizing.”
“Really?”
“Sure.” But it was a tactic to get rid of her. Devin didn’t “do” hurt feelings and he wasn’t about to start.
So he couldn’t explain how he ended up knocking on Rachel’s front door at 6:00 p.m. Friday evening.
When she was feisty he could ignore her, stay pissed. But Rachel hurt niggled at his peace of mind. And that peace was too hard won to surrender lightly.
Her shadow appeared through the stained glass door panel, hesitating as Rachel recognized him. Then she opened the door. They eyed each other warily.
Devin saw immediately that Trixie had been telling the truth. Rachel looked washed out. Suddenly an apology wasn’t hard. Whatever his faults, he wasn’t such an asshole that he couldn’t admit when he was wrong.
“I jumped to conclusions, last night.” When she didn’t say anything, he forced himself to give more. “I’m still learning to give people the benefit of the doubt instead of suspecting their motives in being with me.”
She glanced away. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like we expected anything from the date.”
“No,” he admitted. “We had too many prejudices for that.”
“I was trying to keep an open mind.” Stepping back, she started to close the door.
And Devin realized his arrogance was about to lose him a friendship with the first woman to interest him in years.
“Before I go, let me give you a few more tips on bad behavior,” he said brusquely. “Develop an alcohol addiction and get married a couple of times—at least once in a ceremony you can’t remember because it was during one of your alcoholic blackouts.
“Try and keep the marriages short and make sure you write a song about eternal love to play at each wedding, which will have you cringing for the rest of your life. Become an arrogant, opinionated prick because no one ever said no to you.” Devin stopped, disorientated. Overhead, the sound of a distant rumble drew his gaze. A 747 glinted in the blue sky. Wishing to God he was on it, he sighed. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I guess I’m still getting the hang of normal.” He started to leave.
“Normal’s overrated,” she said behind him, and he turned. She was staring after the jet’s vapor trail. “You know how certain songs take you back to key times in your life? Times when you were happy or sad, confused or needing courage?” She looked back at him. “Writing the soundtrack to people’s lives is no small thing,” she said softly.
Devin cleared his throat. “What was your special song?”
“ ‘Letting You Go.’ Sam … Samantha Henwood. I was sixteen.”
“I don’t know it.”
She started to hum, then to sing, and it was painful to hear because the librarian was tone deaf.
Devin put his hands over his ears. “You’re killing me.”
Rachel smiled and sang louder.
Stepping forward, he clapped