I stood frozen, gaping, totally immobile. Fuck. Nope. Couldn’t do it. What if I somehow tripped or got trod on or misstepped and accidentally hurt Bean?
Before I could turn tail and run back to the car, however, a strong arm wrapped around me, pulling my body in against the safety of his.
“I’ve gotcha,” he said, his breath warming my ear.
I wasn’t up to speaking.
Ben hustled me down the narrow corridor formed by security and into the building. Both of his arms were around me, holding me tight until he had to remove one to punch the button for the elevator. Cool air soothed my hot face while I concentrated on getting back my breath. God, what an idiot I was, losing it like that. Some great mother or psychologist I’d make.
Behind us, Mal and Anne were still out there, barely visible among the crowd.
“Let’s go.” Ben’s hand slid down to mine, grabbing hold to tow me into the elevator.
“Aren’t they coming? What are they doing?”
The elevator doors slid closed.
“With Mal, it could be anything. Don’t worry, they’re fine.”
I craned my neck, necessary for viewing him at close range. His hair was a little longer, tied back in a tiny man bun, his beard neatly trimmed. Still beautiful, damn it. His T-shirt, plain black with an Arizona postcard printed on the front, fit just right, being neither too big nor too small. The tang of salty sweat lingered in the air around him. I wanted to bury my face in his chest and breathe deep, over and over again, despite the scent of booze. I just wanted to get as close to him as physically possible. One day those feelings would fade. Hopefully one day soon.
He looked down at me with a tight smile, still holding on to my hand. The smile definitely didn’t make it to his eyes. If anything, I’d say the man looked nervous.
“Sorry about wigging out,” I said.
With a low digital tone, the doors slid open.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, and let go of my hand, instead applying gentle pressure low on my back to guide me forward. His motions were sure, his steps steady. However much he’d had to drink, he was clearly still coherent. “C’mon.”
Cream carpet shushed our steps, baby chandeliers lighting our way. It wasn’t very different from Vegas, with the same pricey, luxurious appearance. Another couple of security guys prowled about up here, keeping an eye on things.
“Doesn’t that bother other customers?” I asked, nodding in their direction.
“Band’s got this floor. You’re two doors down in Mal and Anne’s suite.” Ben held up a card to the swipe thing. The little light turned green and he pushed the door open. “Might as well come on in for a minute.”
“Okay.” Not exactly a warm welcome. Man, this was all so hatefully awkward.
Inside, his suite was big, with a nice view and lots of comfy-looking couches in shades of beige. Quite a collection of liquor bottles covered the side table, the only visible trace of any rock ’n’ roll lifestyle in the otherwise pristine room.
None of my business what he’d been up to the night before. None at all.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” We sat down opposite each other. “The morning sickness has eased up.”
“Great.”
“Yeah.”
A nod.
“Thanks for the texts,” I said. “That was good of you.”
“No big deal.”
Morning and night, he’d sent me the same brief almost impersonal question: U ok? I’d responded in kind: Fine! Great! Terrific! A smiley face now and then. It wasn’t as if I could tell him I’d spent the morning hurling, feeling three days dead, with my emotions all over the place, my breasts aching, and my brain slowly being pickled by hormones. Things were too weird between us for such brutal honesty. Besides, he had a lot on his mind, with the concert and all. So instead I’d whined to Anne, and she’d been good enough not to tell me it was my own damn fault. The look lingered in her eyes now and then, but I could ignore it. No point feeling sorry for myself. Onward and upward—or outward as the case with my womb might be.
My hand strayed to my tiny baby bump, barely visible beneath my blue tank top, and Ben’s gaze followed. He rubbed the side of his hand against his lips, eyes stark. The look he gave my abdomen was one of great fear. I couldn’t take it.
“Do you have a juice?” I asked.
“Sure.” The man leapt out of his seat, obviously eager to be gone. He moved to the side cabinet where the bar fridge was cunningly concealed. The room was so silent. When he opened the small juice bottle, the pop of the air seal being broken made me jump.
“Maybe I should get going,” I said, rising to my feet. “Leave you to it.”
“But your juice…”
All of a sudden, the front door crashed open and a party walked in. There could be no other description. Laughter, beer, men and women, they all poured into the expensive suite until the room was close to capacity.
“Epic show,” yelled a lanky guy with long black hair and a woman attached to his hip.
He and Ben smacked palms. “It was good.”
Their talk got drowned out by Metallica. A tall guy covered in tats broke a beer off from his six-pack and thrust it into my hand. I took it out of sheer instinct, the wet can chilling my skin.
“Hey,” he said, giving me a grin. Pale red hair sat spiked up, and you really had to give it to him, he had a nice face. “I’m Vaughan.”
“Lizzy. Hi.”
“Didn’t see you here last night. I’d have definitely remembered you.”
What a flirt. Must have been the boobs. I’d done okay in the past, but I wouldn’t call myself a man magnet. Especially not in a room where half the women looked and dressed like lingerie models.
“Ah, no,” I said. “I only got in this evening.”
Vaughan opened a beer for himself, setting down the six-pack on the coffee table. “A fan, or attached to the band somehow?”
“Both, I guess.”
“Both?” His eyes lit with interest. “Well, you’re in Ben’s room, so I’ll assume you’re a friend of his.”
I just smiled. “How about you? How do you fit in here?”
“I play bass for the warm-up band, Down Fourth.”
“Hey, wow! I’ve heard of you guys. You’re great,” I said, clapping my hands all enthused. You’d think I’d never met a famous musician before.
His grin grew broader. Way to be cool, me.