Love Resolution (Black Cat Records series) (5 page)

“Stop stalling.” He flipped on the light.

She cringed, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Go get in the shower,” he ordered, voice low and authoritative.

Avery muttered under her breath, got up, stretched, and padded to the bathroom.

Marcus watched with heated admiration. She was adorable in her Victoria Secret pink plaid boxers and camisole top. When she caught him staring, she wiggled her ass and fluttered her eyelashes. “Will you ask Ray to stop and get me a café latte from Café Artigiano on the way?”

He grabbed his watch off the nightstand and checked the time. “Probably, but you’d better hurry so we can both have time to shower.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “We’ll save water and time if you shower with me.”

Hell, yeah
. Marcus jumped out of bed, grabbed her, and threw her over his shoulder. Her giggling turned into a moan as he stroked a finger along the inside edge of her boxers.

Forty-five satisfying minutes later, Ray pulled the car into a back alley off Central Street.

“I hope they have coffee,” Avery mumbled dubiously, looking out the back window.

“They will,” Marcus assured her, following the direction of her gaze. Though the overnight rain had dwindled to a light mist, a group of people still milled around underneath the shelter of a canopy. Off to the right a nearby motor home was marked with a production sign.

“Anyway, whose fault is it that we didn’t have time to stop for lattes?”

“It was worth it.” Her green eyes glittered in the predawn light.

A knock on the tinted window of the Mercedes had them pulling apart.

“Ms. Jones?” asked a tall guy wearing jeans, his red hoodie pulled up over a Mariners cap.

“Yes,” she answered rolling down the window.

“Scott Westfield, production assistant.” His words were punctuated by white puffs of condensation. “I need you to follow me. We’re running late.”

Avery gave Marcus a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for coming with me.” She opened the door and hurried after him.

Marcus’ brows drew together as he watched her go. The time before the tour was passing away too quickly. He was beginning to resent every single moment the outside world stole from them.

After pulling on his jacket, he left Ray inside the car and made his way over to the canopied area. It seemed to be the centralized area for the shoot. He poured himself a coffee and stood next to the makeshift breakfast buffet trying to decide what to eat when he noticed Avery emerge from the motor home. He froze, momentarily transfixed by the sight. “Incredible,” he whispered.

Avery didn’t normally wear much makeup; her creamy complexion and dark eyelashes and eyebrows made it unnecessary. Still, whoever had put the stuff on her this morning knew what they were doing. The grey eye shadow around her eyes made them appear smoky and sultry. Her full lips were accentuated in bold red, and her coppery hair styled into loose curls. He found it impossible to look away.

The dress she wore made her look like a fairy tale princess. It was strapless, champagne colored and diaphanous, a perfect complement to her pale lightly freckled skin. The hemline swirled around her ankles like sea foam. He had a sudden irrational desire to sweep her up in his arms and take her away, lock her forever in a tall tower, and share her with no one.

His eyes met hers. She gave him a shy smile, lifted up the hem of her dress, and tiptoed around the puddles to reach him. “How do I look?” She peered up at him through mile long mascaraed lashes.

“Utterly captivating.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “But is it wrong that I want to take you back to the apartment and peel it all off?”

Blushing, she shook her head. “Thanks. I feel silly dressed like this in an alley.”

“You look gorgeous but I bet you’re cold.”

She shrugged.

“Did you already get some coffee?”

“Yeah, I…” She trailed off as they both turned to look in the direction of an angry voice.

“Come on, move along,” Westfield was talking to a grizzled, shabbily dressed man leaning up against the side of the brick building. “You can’t stay here.”

“Scott, wait a minute.” Avery grabbed a can of orange juice off the buffet and hurried across the alley, squatting down next to the man.

Curious and a little concerned, Marcus strode after her.

“Hey,” she said to him with a gentle smile. “I’m Avery Jones.” She held out her hand.

The man looked at her outstretched hand, hesitating for a moment before he took it. “Dennis.”

“Nice to meet you, Dennis.”

“You getting married?” Dennis asked with wide eyes.

“No, just getting my picture taken.” Avery giggled. “You can watch us work if you’d like. It might be interesting. But it’s much warmer over in the tent and we have way too much food. Would you consider coming over and helping us eat some of it?”

“Sure.” His face lit up and he smiled back at her with a toothless grin. “That would be real nice. Thank you.”

She nodded and walked back over with him.

Heart swelling with pride, Marcus watched as she introduced the homeless man to the crew as if he was an honored guest. When she returned, he pulled her into his chest and squeezed her tight.

“You’ll mess up my makeup.” Her voice was muffled against his jacket.

“Avery Jones. That was incredibly kind. How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”

She leaned back to look up at him. “That goes both ways, Marcus.”

“I think in our case, the scales might be a little lopsided.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s a matter of opinion.”

“I love you, Ace,” He whispered with two fingers held gently over her lips. He glanced over her shoulder at Dennis. “But you know you can’t save everyone.”

“I know.” She kissed his fingertips. “But if it weren’t for friends helping Justin and me, we could have ended up just like Dennis. We have so much, Marcus. Don’t we have to at least try to help those we can? By paying it forward we let people like Dennis know they matter. That someone cares. Maybe it won’t change the world, but it might change his world.”

Westfield cleared his throat. “The photographer’s ready for you.”

“Ok.” Avery squeezed Marcus’ hand. “Will you see about getting Dennis somewhere to stay when we’re done here? Some where he can go where he’ll be safe?”

“Absolutely.” Marcus smiled and pulled his cell out of his jean pocket. “I’ll be over in a bit. It’ll just take me a minute to make a couple of calls.”

“Thank you,” she said and kissed him on the lips.

“Makeup!” Scott groaned. “We need makeup on set!” he shouted.

Avery laughed. “I love you.”

“Ditto, Ace.”

An hour later, Marcus was seething and Avery was shivering uncontrollably. They had taken tons of pictures in front of the Granville Market graffiti mural, none of which pleased the temperamental, grumbling photographer.

His forty-something face pinching into a grimace, he drew off his knit cap and threw it on the wet pavement. “I don’t know how they expect me to work in these conditions and with this,” he said, gesturing at Avery, “neophyte.”

Marcus growled, pushing off from the wall where he’d been leaning. He advanced toward the man, his hands fisted. He was just about to straighten the guy out when Avery put her hand on his chest.

“It’s ok.”

“No it’s not Ace. The guy’s being an asshole.”

The photographer saw Marcus coming and backed up a step. “She needs to relax,” he said in a more conciliatory tone. “I can’t get a good shot until she does.”

Avery sighed and gave Marcus a defeated look. He could tell that she was at the end of her rope, just like him, only she was handling it much better.

“Hold up a minute,” he said getting an idea. “I’ll be right back.”

“Now what?” he heard the photographer comment. “These rock types are such divas.”

When Marcus returned a couple of minutes later, he was glad to see someone had draped a coat around Avery’s bare shoulders. Her emerald eyes sparkled and she smiled at him when she saw what he carried.

He placed the black Ibanez in her hands and glared at the photographer. “Why don’t you give it a try now?”

“Stop fretting about it. I saw the shots he took of you with your guitar,” Marcus said stroking his knuckle down her soft cheek. “They were incredible.” He gave her a playful grin. “I think you love that Ibanez more than me.”

Avery laughed and threaded her fingers through his. She glanced out the window of the Mercedes stifling a yawn. Their plans to take a nap before meeting Marcus’ family and Justin for dinner had gone up in flames. As soon as Marcus had snuggled up against her back in the big king sized bed her body had flooded with heat, and she had reached for him. Her cheeks flushed remembering the way they’d spent the afternoon.

Ray pulled the car over near the curb on Robson Street. The popular downtown Vancouver thoroughfare was brimming with activity, the sidewalks on both sides of the street bustling with pedestrians. Shoppers draped with paper bags from Roots and Levis Strauss hurried home with their purchases, and late night diners like Marcus and Avery poured out of taxis and double parked vehicles to dine at restaurants perched above the retail shops.

Avery giggled as she and Marcus both reached in the seatbacks in front of them for their baseball caps and sunglasses. Back in New York she could never have imagined a lifestyle like this. Marcus reached back for her hand as he helped her from the car. He leaned an elbow against the open passenger window and told Ray, “We’ll call you later. It’ll probably be late.”

“No problem, Boss. Have a good time Avery.”

“Thanks Ray. Tell your mom hi for me.”

Marcus slid his hand to the center of her back as they walked up the concrete steps to Cin Cin, a Tuscan inspired restaurant popular with locals and visiting celebrities alike. Inside the ornately appointed upscale establishment, the aroma of garlic and freshly baked bread immediately made his stomach growl. The maître d took their jackets and escorted them past the mirrored hand carved marble bar where it was standing room only, overflowing with sharp dressed men and women in cocktail dresses.

Avery looked down at her off the shoulder grey cowl cashmere sweater and black skinny jeans and frowned. “I think I’m underdressed.”

“You look hot, especially in those heels,” he reassured her as they entered a set of curtained double doors into a private dining room. The room was cozy but elegant, the gold walls accented with black and white photos of Italy. A chandelier dripping with crystal hung over the center of a long table that ran the length of the room. The rest were already gathered around it.

Still handsome in his sixties, Marcus’ father rose from his seat at the head of the table and came over to greet them. His blue eyes sparkled with warmth as he kissed Avery’s cheek. “You look beautiful.” He clapped Marcus on the back. “Haven’t run her off yet have you?”

“No, Dad. Not yet. Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Marcus said drily.

Don chuckled and Avery kissed his cheek.

As they moved down the length of the table to an open pair of seats, Rheta glanced up at Avery and smiled. Avery bent over and laid her cheek against her auburn hair and hugged her shoulders.

Marcus’ mother patted her hand. “Avery, love. Sit here beside me. Lisa and I,” she motioned across the table toward Dwight’s wife, “were just having a discussion about names for the baby.”

Marcus pulled out a chair for Avery and took the seat beside her. “Did you find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“This afternoon.” Dwight beamed at Lisa’s side. “It’s a boy.”

“Holy Cow!” Avery exclaimed, tears brimming. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Avery.” The petite ebony haired beauty smiled. “How was the photo shoot this morning?”

“Cold.” She laughed. “And a little weird. I’m not much of a model.”

“She’s just being modest,” Marcus interjected. “She’s a real pro and obviously very photogenic,” he said proudly. “I got a peek at the digitals. They’re really good.”

Avery leaned over and kissed his cheek. Marcus took her hand and stroked the sensitive skin of her inner wrist with his calloused thumb. She shivered.