Making a Comeback (35 page)

Jac lightened her touch on Liz’s clit and kept moving inside her. “Come again. I want more of you.” She took Liz to the edge, backed off, took her again, feeding on the desire surging through every moan, through Liz’s hands rubbing erratically on her back, through Liz’s passionate kisses.

Liz thrust hard onto her fingers, arched herself into Jac’s hand, and broke the kiss. Her breath came in short exhalations against Jac’s face. “I love you so much.”

Jac floated with Liz’s orgasm, the movements of her body, the smell of her delicately tropical perfume from Hawaii. She wasn’t prepared when Liz guided her onto her back, separated her legs, and settled on top of her. Before she could protest, Liz took her breast, and all words faded as Liz made love to her with her mouth. She tensed when Liz slid her panties off, but let her. And again when Liz stroked up her inner thigh and into her center, against her clit. She wanted to give herself to Liz, but when Liz’s finger touched her opening, she clasped her wrist. “Tell me again that you love me.”

“With all my heart.” Liz’s tender kiss mirrored her words. “Tell me what my being inside you means.” Liz pressed her fingers gently against her opening.

Jac ached to swallow Liz’s fingers, but she couldn’t. Not yet. “It’s the most intimate thing I can let someone do to me,” she said against Liz’s cheek. “Letting your fingers inside me is letting myself be owned by you, letting myself be played by you. Please don’t go inside me unless you’re sure of how you feel.” She wrapped her arms around Liz’s back and held tight, afraid to let go and afraid not to.

“I’m sure I’m in love with you. I’m sure I want us to be connected in the deepest way.”

“You’re in my heart. If I let you inside my body, I’ll be lost. I won’t be the same again, and I’m scared.”

“We’re already deep inside each other. Let me love you.”

Trusting the love in Liz’s touch and in her words, Jac guided Liz back to her opening and pressed onto her fingers, arching her neck at the exquisite feeling of being filled. She surrendered to the gentle intrusion, the warm mouth sucking on the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. “More. I need more fullness. Add another…” She moaned when Liz slipped in a third finger.

“Tell me what you want.” Liz kept her movements slow, going deeper with each thrust. “You’re so beautiful, so wet.”

“Curl your fingers. Ahh…perfect.” When Liz started to slide down her body, she stopped her. “Stay. I need to feel all of you against me.” She tangled her fingers in Liz’s hair and pulled her into a hard kiss. She was close, spiraling to a new beginning in the arms of the woman she loved. “Fortissimo, love. Make me come.” The orgasm gathered in her belly like a storm and swept through her in waves of pleasure she didn’t know existed. New. Everything was new with Liz. “Don’t stop,” she said when Liz withdrew her fingers. When they entered her again, fast and hard, she came in a rush of hot fury that shoved away doubt as fire speared through her body, blasting through long-dormant channels. It burned away everything before Liz. She wrapped her arms around Liz and rocked shamelessly on her fingers, losing control in the safety of her arms. “I’ll never get enough of this. Enough of you.”

Jac flipped Liz onto her back and had her mouth on Liz’s clit before her own orgasm ebbed. More. Liz. Everything became Liz—smell and touch and taste and the beautiful sound of Liz crying out her name when she came.

Time and time again they took each other, skin against skin, fingers and hands coaxing and caressing, mouths searching and reassuring. Finally they lay spent in each other’s arms.

“How’s your back?” Liz asked.

Jac scooted her butt around. She’d been in some awkward positions over the last few hours, but it didn’t hurt at all. “Great.” She pulled Liz’s thigh across her abdomen.

“You know what? My wrist doesn’t hurt. Oh, my gosh, I completely forgot about it.” Liz peppered Jac’s cheek with kisses. “We’re good for each other in so many ways.”

“We have a show tomorrow.” Jac rubbed up and down Liz’s thigh, lost in the wonder of holding her.

“Nervous?” Liz asked.

“Not at the moment. You. Us. That’s all I want.”

“Me, too.” Liz punctuated her words with a kiss that started tender and ended with passion that left them breathing hard. “Cassie, Regan, and Sammy are coming to my house tomorrow around noon. You should be there. They need to know about us.”

“They don’t already?”

“They need to know things are good between us. They’re stressed enough without the kind of tension there was at Monday’s rehearsal.”

“Agreed. Stay with me tonight. We’ll have to make an appearance up at Peg’s, but I can’t bear to be away from you. Roger and my dad have been grilling every night and I’m sure we can rustle up some old cabs.”

“I want to invite Hannah to join us. We’ll have to endure a healthy dose of gloating from her and Peggy. I found out this morning they were in cahoots on Hawaii and Peggy called her when you left this morning.”

“Do you think we would have figured it out on our own?”

“Absolutely. But think how much of this we would have missed.” Liz stroked Jac’s clit. “Let’s see how long you can stand this.”

Turning onto her side to face Liz, Jac slid her fingers into Liz’s sex. She was so very wet. “And you, this.”

“Come with me, honey.” Liz took Jac’s breast in her mouth.

“I’ll go anywhere with you.” They touched each other and kissed until they cried out and held tight to each other. “I love you,” she said into Liz’s mouth, feeling the words said back to her as their tongues met and danced.

When they were lying contentedly in each other’s arms again, Liz said, “Max’s head is on his paws and he’s looking pathetic. Can he come up?”

Jac patted the bed and Max jumped up, did three circles, and settled by their feet. “He thinks it’s nap time.”

“So do I,” Liz said. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“And you won’t get much tonight.” Jac pulled Liz against her and laid her hand on Max. Long after Liz and Max were asleep, Jac lay awake, her heart fully alive, pumping joy and hope through channels hungry again for life.

Backstage. Jac remembered the last time as if it were yesterday. It was hard not to think about the last time she’d performed. The night that changed her life. The night that sent her down a long, dark tunnel. Liz had brought her partway out of that tunnel with friendship and, now, love. Would tonight give her back the rest of what she’d lost? She was vaguely aware of people moving about the room, laughing, bantering the way musicians did. Her awareness was on the nervousness that made it hard to stay in the metal chair off in a corner. She wanted to preserve her anonymity as long as possible.

“You’re thinking.” Liz sat next to her in the too-hot room somewhere behind the Jimmy Lyons Stage, the main stage at the festival.

“I still feel you everywhere.” They’d made love so many times throughout the night and early morning that her skin tingled as if they were still touching. Their consummation had been everything she could have wished for—like a symphony that had quietly introspective passages, passionate outbursts, and beautiful harmonies.

“Me, too.” Liz put her hand on Jac’s lower back, her voice a husky whisper.

“How are Regan, Sammie, and Cassie?” She shifted her focus to Liz’s hand and let the warmth of it ground her.

“Regan’s in rapture talking to Derrick Hodge. He about has her convinced to learn double bass.”

“She’ll like the sensibility of it, and it will give you composing options.”

“Cassie’s mingling with just about everyone because she knows just about everyone. I’m lucky to have her, both for her talent and for her festival experience. Sammy’s tagging along with her, and his eyes get wider every time she introduces him to someone else.”

“Regan and Sammy can hold their own with anyone here.”

“So I’ve told them, but it wouldn’t hurt coming from you, too. How are you doing?”

“Scared to death.”

“Remember the zip line we went across together? I’m right here with you.”

“Liz,” a male voice said from in front of them. “Welcome to the 58th annual Monterey Jazz Festival. It’s an honor to have you opening the event. Is everything all right?”

“It’s great, Tim,” Liz said. “May I introduce—”

“She needs no introduction.”

Jac stood and shook his hand. “It’s an honor to be here.” Tim Jackson was the artistic director of the Monterey Jazz Festival. He’d heartily agreed to her appearance and to keeping it under wraps.

“I have an escort ready to stand with you while Liz is onstage. Let me know if you need anything else. Sound check in half an hour.”

“You’ll make sure my mic’s set up right?” she asked Liz, sitting back down.

“Just the way we talked about. I’ll take very good care of you.”

Half an hour later, Jac waited in a room backstage during the sound check, listening, getting a feel for the sound system. Missing Liz. When the band piled back in, they were quiet, and she felt the tension. “You’re some of the best musicians I’ve ever played with. I’m honored to be onstage with you.”

“Likewise,” Cassie said, kissing her cheek.

“You look like the picture of calm.” Liz took Jac’s hand. “Everyone thinks I’m giving you a pep talk so smile and nod, but what I really want to say is I love you, and I want to rip your clothes off and make love to you again.”

Jac put her hand to her chest, hoping her reaction wasn’t painted on her cheeks. “I love you, too.” Everything was contained in those few words. Liz was everything.

“You look beautiful. Midnight blue’s a great color on you. Reminds me of that swimsuit. Mmm.” Liz straightened the stand-up collar on Jac’s jacket.

“Don’t get me worked up or I’ll play like I did at my parents’.” She’d been carried away by her feelings and hadn’t imagined the effect it would have on Liz.

“You won’t get cold feet and skip out on me, will you?”

“Never, love. Go make beautiful music.”

Liz squeezed her fingers and was gone in a commotion of voices. Backstage was always hectic, but more so because she didn’t have sight to orient her. How different would it be performing blind? Would she trip on a cord or run into a mic or speaker? No, Liz would be with her. She fingered her trumpet, warming it while it soothed her nervousness.

“It’s a pleasure to have Liz Randall back on our stage with her band, Up Beat,” Tim Jackson said through the mic. “Her new release,
Up Beat Live in New York
, has been heating up the jazz charts all summer. For the oldsters in the crowd, Liz’s grandmother, Mildred Randall, performed here in 1964 with the Woody Herman Orchestra. Two generations of great jazz pianists. Without further ado…Liz Randall and Up Beat.”

Jac’s heart beat fast and strong, immensely happy to be part of this monumental evening. Part of Liz’s future. The forty-minute set seemed to last forever, and she lost herself in every graceful note, every cascading melody and surging harmony. Liz’s playing was brilliant, and the band was clearly in the groove. Applause built with each song, as did her excitement. Liz would get the recognition she deserved.

“I’ll take you to the stage entrance,” her escort said.

She held her trumpet close to her body as he led her through a tunnel of voices. Applause erupted after the final song. Whistles, calls for more, and then Liz was by her side, and her heart settled.

“Miss me?” Liz’s hand was warm in hers.

“Terribly. It sounds like your hand is fine.”

“Of course. I have you. Ready to make your comeback?”

Nervousness skittered through her. “I don’t ever want to be alone again.”

“Never.” Liz kissed her cheek.

She held tightly to Liz’s elbow, heart pounding, as they walked onto the stage. Sammy, Regan, and Cassie followed, congratulating each other. Back on a stage. It was a wondrous feeling. A new beginning she desperately wanted.

“Center stage,” Liz said. “Usual arrangement. Mic’s a foot in front of you. You’re ready for this.” Then Liz was gone and fear engulfed her. She couldn’t see. She’d play badly. She’d make a fool of herself and—Someone touched her shoulder.

“Hi, I’m Sammy.”

Jac let out a long breath, the tension broken by his humor.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Liz said through her mic. “It’s my great honor to announce our special guest performer, Ms. Jacqueline Richards.”

She fingered her trumpet, dropping into herself and shutting out everything but the music running through her head. There was a pause, then applause that went on and on and on.

“They’re standing,” Regan said into her ear. “Take a bow.”

She did, and then, mercifully, Liz started “Carmel Sketches.” She let go into the music that told the story of how they fell in love. The song took life and they all played like they never had before, as if they were of one mind. She held her final high C for as long as she could, and the song finished on a resounding chord series from Liz. The audience erupted into applause, and whistles, and cries of “bravo.”

Jac held out her hand and Liz was there, linking her arm, keeping her promise not to leave her alone. Regan linked her other arm and they took several bows amid calls for more.

“Better get me offstage. You have a second encore.”

“Do ‘Mad Dash’ with us,” Liz said.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Regan said, pressing against her. Hands held her shoulders—Cassie and Sammy.

Jac’s heart lunged into her throat. The first song she’d played with Liz. She hadn’t practiced it with the band. She remembered the zip line, how it felt to stand at the edge of the unknown—freedom just a step beyond fear.

“It’s all about letting go and trusting those around you,” Liz said before stepping away.

She listened to Liz’s piano leadership, and to Cassie and Regan’s solid rhythm, and to Sammy’s sax as they started the song. Desire surged through her—desire to be part of this band. Putting the horn to her lips she joined in. Collaborating. Belonging. She poured herself into the piece. Letting go. Making it up in the moment. Trusting. It was glorious and then, all too soon, it ended. She’d improvised onstage. She couldn’t stop smiling.

Thunderous applause covered them. A wall of sound. Electric. Alive. Coating them with its energy. The vibration of it swept through her, lighting up her cells. Bringing her back to life as a musician. She’d forgotten what an audience’s appreciation felt like—a huge burst of joy. Liz and Regan put their arms around her waist, and she was encased by people who cared about her. She was loved and alive. She’d never forget this night.