A Better Reason to Fall in Love (12 page)

Tabby’s heart was hammering like the engines in a cruise ship. She couldn’t believe she was standing in a dimly lit corner of a restaurant talking face-to-face with Jagger Brodie!

“Oh, I see,” she said. “What? You’re an old-fashioned guy?” she asked. “You just dress up like a sexy blues singer to throw people off your boy-next-door persona.”

“I-I think your
outfit
is sexy,” she stammered, trying to back-paddle her way out of sticking her foot in her mouth.

“But it’s
me
in my outfit,” he said. He chuckled. “Are you saying that if you took my clothes off me and put them on…say…” Jagger glanced around the room. A man looking to be in his midsixties sporting a large tummy and long, stringy hair sat in one corner. “If you took my clothes off me and put them on that guy,” he continued, nodding toward the older man, “you’re saying you’d find him sexy instead?”

“I-I…no…I-I…” Tabby stammered.

“Oh, I see,” he said then, feigning an expression of having suddenly been struck by pure understanding. “It’s the clothes that make the man, huh? Is that why I’ve never turned your head at the office? I guess the business suit thing just doesn’t merit the attention of a sexy redhead like yourself.”

Tabby was momentarily struck silent with astonishment. Had he just called her a sexy redhead? She recovered quickly, however.

“That is not true,” Tabby corrected him, wagging a scolding index finger. “First of all, you look awesome in your suits. You turn everybody’s head, and you know it. Second of all…don’t try that sexy redhead thing on me, Mr. Brodie. You’re still a musician—a singer with a golden tongue—and I don’t buy it.”

Tabby felt her arms ripple with goose bumps, however, as Jagger Brodie pulled a guitar pick out of his pocket and trailed it over her arm from her wrist to her elbow.

“So I look better in my suits then?” he teased. “You think I should stick with sales and marketing…keep my day job?”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Tabby stammered. She’d done it again—revealed that she thought he was attractive when she hadn’t meant to. His demeanor was so altered! So very different from what it was at the office—so flirty and playful. She wasn’t quite sure how to take him.

“I’m just teasing you, you know,” he told her then, “about my clothes and stuff anyway.” He paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied her for a moment. “How come you never talk to me at the office?”

“Well, I guess you better get back,” Tabby said. She hoped he would leave—relieve her from having to answer his question about why she never spoke to him at the office. Yet, at the same time, she wanted him to keep her sequestered in the dim light of the restaurant forever.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she giggled. She wasn’t precisely sure what his implication was—not exactly—but it caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach all the same.

He chuckled. “You better get back to your seat, Foxy Four girl. You might find our next tune sort of interesting.”

Placing the guitar pick he’d been holding between his two front teeth, he winked at her and said, “I’ll see you later,” then turned and headed back toward the stage.

After a moment in which she lingered in watching him swagger away, Tabby returned (on very wobbly, weakened knees) to the table where Emmy was sitting.

“Well, no…but yeah…sort of,” Tabby answered. She sat down in her chair, her senses still swimming in the pleasure of having been in Jagger’s company.

“Seriously…did he touch you?” Emmy asked.

“Well, yeah, my arm. But what does that matter?”

Emmy giggled. “It’s everything, Tabby! Do you know how much I would love to have Luke touch my arm right now?” Emmy’s smile softened to an almost wistful smile as she said, “He touched your arm. You ought to be on cloud nine.”

“I am,” Tabby admitted, thinking of the way Jagger had trailed his guitar pick along her arm.

“He’s back,” Emmy whispered as the audience began to applaud.

“Thanks for letting us take that break,” Jagger said into the mike. “It’s amazing what can happen to a man in the space of fifteen minutes, isn’t it?”

Several men in the room called out their agreement.

“For instance,” Jagger continued as the bass player tuned a bit, “just in that fifteen minutes, I bumped into this sexy little redhead who’s here tonight. She puts a whole new spin on the phrase dead sexy…you know what I mean?”

“No way!” Emmy exclaimed in a whisper as all the men in the room whistled and applauded their affirmation.

Tabby felt her cheeks searing with a blush.

“Anyway…y’all have heard the expression bad to the bone, right?” Jagger asked. The crowd mumbled agreements. “Well, this little redhead I bumped into, she’s what I’d call sexy to the bone…you know? I mean, I figure she’s got it going on so fine…even her bones are sexy. Do you know what I’m saying?”

The crowd whooped and clapped, and Tabby was afraid she might explode from blushing so thoroughly.

“Just bumped into him, huh?” Emmy giggled.

“So…on that little fifteen-minute break we took…well, it inspired me to sing the blues,” Jagger announced. The crowd whistled and applauded as Jagger played a cliché five-note blues riff.

“Y’all know how to sing the blues, right?” he asked. The crowd applauded their assurance as Jagger repeated the blues riff.

“Good…’cause we’re gonna sing them for you now!” The band joined Jagger in repeating the five-note blues riff.

“
They say blondes is pretty
,” Jagger sang. He played the five-note riff then continued, “
And brunettes are
fine,” he continued with another short riff. “
But a bone sexy redhead
,” he sang as the drummer beat out the familiar blues rhythm, “
will ’bout blow any bad boy’s mind!
” As the band stepped up into a full blues refrain, Jagger’s gravelly voice rasped, “
I got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redhead blues.
”

Tabby was trembling with the mingled emotions of fear, embarrassment, and explosive elation.

Emmy put her hands to her mouth and whistled her delight to the band as they slowed it to the five-note blues riff and continued, “
A beauty that’s skin-deep…can inflict a sting…but beauty that’s bone-deep…keeps a man on a string. I got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redhead blues.
”

Tabby knew how singing the blues worked—the simple riffs in between lines of lyrics until the singer hit the guts of the song. Then the band ripped into playing during the so called chorus. This was the format Jagger was following as he sang the blues—as he sang the blues about Tabby!

“
She slipped on those skinny jeans that show off her legs
,” Jagger rather mumbled into the mike. “
And that foxy senorita’s…gonna make-a me beg! I got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redhead blues.
”

“
She’s dressed like a tiger, blue eyes like a cat
,” he sang. Then pointing straight to Tabby, Jagger growled, “
Baby, you know ya own me, wearin’ something like that. I got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redhead blues!
”

“Whoo!” Emmy squealed as the crowd applauded and Jagger and his band continued to play the blues like Tabby had never imagined.

“
Those high-heeled shoes…sexy ankle straps…that bone-sexy redhead’s got me hooked in her trap! I got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redhead blues.
” The band jammed for a moment before Jagger ended the song by singing an extra raspy round of, “
I’ve got the bone sexy redhead…sexy redheaded blues!
”

The crowd roared with approval as the band ended the song.

“Thank you,” Jagger said. “Thank you very much.” Then pointing to Tabby once more, he added, “Miss Tabitha Flanders, ladies and gentlemen…my muse for the evening.”

Jagger looked down at Tabby as the crowd cheered, winked, and added, “She’s a good sport, isn’t she?”

“And bone sexy!” the bass player shouted from Jagger’s right.

For a moment, Tabby thought her face might literally explode. She’d never blushed so hard in all her life. Yet, at the same time, the pure elation churning inside her was nothing short of euphoric. Not only had Jagger Brodie sung about her, he’d sung about her in a very flattering manner! As she sat listening to the band begin to play a song Jagger had announced was entitled “Southern Blues,” she couldn’t believe how he’d detailed her outfit—how he must’ve noticed the color of her eyes at some point.

For a fleeting moment she thought,
Maybe I should pursue him. Maybe I would have a chance
. Still, such thoughts were squelched as she glanced around the room to see the other women in it staring at Jagger with expressions of nothing less than being entirely seduced.

Jagger ventured a glance to Tabitha Flanders. She looked as if she’d weathered the attention all right. Still, he wasn’t sure whether it had been too much for her. He’d ease off for the rest of the night. He didn’t want to entirely freak her out. He couldn’t help but wish he could read her better. She practically ignored him at work, unless he forced her into acknowledging him somehow—at the vending machine or when an ad needed tweaking. He couldn’t tell whether she liked him or whether he grossed her out. Still, the mystery about her—it was one thing that intrigued him where the little redheaded graphic designer was concerned. He’d always sensed there was a lot more to Tabitha Flanders than she allowed the world to see at work. In truth, the fact that she was even sitting there listening to live music, the fact that she was wearing a tiger-print shirt, proved to him his suspicions had been correct. Still, he didn’t want to scare her off, so he’d ease back a bit—for now.

“Believe me, Tabs,” Emmy whispered, “one day I really will walk into the break room to see you making out with Jagger the Derrière-inator Brodie.”

“In my dreams, maybe,” Tabby said.

Still, she couldn’t help but smile. His version of “singing the blues” had literally been one of the most exciting, delicious moments of her entire life. She’d never be able to look at him dressed in his professional business suit and red power ties without thinking he was like a superhero—that all she’d have to do was take hold of the front of his shirt, rip it open, and reveal the alluring, flirtatious blues singer and guitarist beneath.

“In my dreams,” she whispered again.

CHAPTER SIX

Monday morning rose cloudy and cold. Spring had only just begun to arrive, yet now it looked as if one more round of rotten weather was in store. As Tabby pulled into the downtown parking garage, she wished she had just called in sick. After all, it wouldn’t have been a lie because if there was going to be a snowstorm—if a late spring blizzard really was going to hit the city and Tabby ended up stuck at the office—then she really would be sick! It was something very few people in the entire world knew about—Tabby’s extreme phobia of driving in snow and ice. In fact, only her parents and Chloe knew about it. Even her brothers didn’t know. She’d kept it a secret because she’d never wanted to be teased mercilessly about it—and Rick and Craig would’ve teased her, mercilessly. Still, the fact remained that Tabby was literally phobic about driving in snowstorms, and as she pulled into her office parking space, she wished she would’ve called in sick.

Trepidation and anxiety dominated her thoughts. In fact, her worries about the storm were so great, they’d momentarily pushed her lingering delight over Jagger Brodie’s attentions Friday night to the back of her mind. Yet Jagger Brodie was the reason Tabby hadn’t called in or taken a personal day in the first place. She had to see him—she just had to. Naturally, she wanted to see Jagger Brodie every day, especially every workday when the possibility of seeing him was actually conceivable. But after Friday night—after she’d watched him perform, listened to him sing, and spoken with him—after he’d sung the blues about her, playfully claiming she was his muse—she just had to see him, even if a blizzard was expected to hit the city. All weekend, she’d listened to the Jagger Brodie CDs she’d purchased and daydreamed over the hours spent at Sweet Genevieve’s listening to him—watching him, gazing at him, being insatiably drawn to him. All weekend, she’d looked forward to Monday so she could go to work and catch even a glimpse of him again. She had to see him—she just had to! Besides, the forecast was only dead-on about fifty percent of the time anyway. Surely the expected storm wouldn’t be as severe as the National Weather Service was predicting. After all, it was April already.