Page 22 of My UnTrue Love
“I’m positive I don’t sing and I’m evenmorepositive that I don’t want you collaborating with other musicians.” He shook his head. “That’s just not gonna work for me.”
“Collaborating with musicians is all I know how to do. I have to make a living, somehow.”
His forehead compressed, like he was digging for words that would get her onto his side of the debate. “Our futures are linked. That’s how I see it.”
“That’s how I see it, too.” Something connected them. She’d always felt it pulling her towards this man, in a way she’d never been pulled towards anyone else.
“You and me?” Bill waved a palm between them. (He had beautiful hands. Perfect for making music.) “We’re going in the same direction.”
She busied herself by popping another tray of cookies into the oven. “I think the same. And once your career really gets started, we can…”
“What if it doesn’t?” He interrupted. “What if this is all I’ll ever be?”
She glanced at him in surprise. “Bill, you’re going to be a star.”
He muttered a curse, rubbing a hand over his face.
Clementine realized he was worried that he’d disappoint her. “Honestly, if this is all you ever are…? I might actually be happier.” She admitted. “Because I really likethisyou. And success could change things.”
His palm dropped, his eyes snapping to hers.
She chewed on her lower lip. “Success changed Johnny.” She whispered. And Bill’s fame was destined to eclipse Johnny’s like a celestial event.
Unfortunately, Bill was a handsome guitar player in a music town. He could have his pick of classy, stylish women, especially once his name was in lights on a marquee. Andnoneof them would understand how sweet and wonderful he was. Only Clementine could appreciate his many layers.
Only her.
“I don’t know how to change.” Bill assured her. “If I did, I’d have done it when we met. I’d be a better man, if I could.”
“The man you are is my best, best friend, so I’m okay with you staying this way forever.”
“You’re my best, best friend, too. I never had that before.” His gaze was steady. “And if you work for somebody else, I’ll have to share you. I don’t want to share, Clem. I want all of you forme.
The way he said it sounded like music.
Her skin was flushed, but she didn’t think she was blushing. It was just… hot. Clementine shifted her shoulders, trying to hide the fact that her nipples were now very hard and achy.
She’d never thought much about sex, until Bill came along. In fact, she’d done her best to repress her sexuality, so no one thought she was a stereotypical, lusty muse. Now, visions of twisted bed sheets, and caressing hands, and passionate kisses, popped into her mind with shocking regularity.
She focused on the wall beside his very handsome head, hoping to hide her reaction. “So… what are you suggesting, then?”
“We pool our resources.That’s best for both of us, in the long run, because it gets us to our destination quicker.”
“Most of the ‘resources we’re pulling’ would be yours, though.”
“Gettin’ what I want is worth whatever it costs.”
His commitment to his career was admirable. He really wanted her focus, so he could succeed. Bill was so driven. So incredibly talented. He just needed support, and he would rise to the top very quickly.
She sighed, thinking it over. “If you feel that strongly about me working exclusively for you…”
“I do.”
“…we’ll have to plan a budget.” She finished firmly. Artists could be impractical sometimes. They got a vision of how everythingshouldbe, facts and logic be damned.
Bill leaned back in his seat, the soul of compromise. “Fine by me. Let’s make a list of our most important expenses. How much does your medicine cost?”
That was the first thing he thought of? Her medicine?
