Ch.10: The Way to a Man's Heart

Elle helped me shop for food, and though she'd paid for brunch, I wouldn't accept a penny towards this dinner. This was something I wanted to do for Jude.

I had no idea what time he'd be home from the studio, but this time I was determined to wait up for him. While I waited, I seasoned the steaks, prepared a mixed salad, and mashed some potatoes that I could heat up when Jude got back.

After everything else that had happened since Vegas, this felt strangely domestic, but in a way that I'd never felt with Jake.

Shortly after eleven, Jude walked in.

His shaggy curls were pulled up in a knot, and his eyes were shadowed with tiredness, but he was still the most absurdly good-looking man I'd ever seen. It wasn't hard to see why he made so many of his fans lose touch with reality.

He stopped when he saw the plates that I'd laid out, adorned with salad leaves, and the steaks sitting by the griddle pan, patiently waiting.

"What are you doing?" he said.

"I thought you'd be hungry after making magic in the studio all day, so I made you dinner. The steaks will only take a few minutes," I said.

I fetched a beer from the fridge, popped the cap off, and slid it across the breakfast bar toward him.

Jude continued to stare at me, his face blank, and a nervous feeling gathered in the pit of my stomach. I'd wanted to do something nice, but it looked like I'd screwed up somehow.

"Sorry, I just . . ." I took the plates off the bar and shoved them behind me. "You don't have to eat it."

"Why wouldn't I eat it?" He sounded confused.

"Because you're looking at me like I've done something wrong."

"You haven't." Jude rubbed his palm across his face, and a few chocolate-coloured tendrils of hair slipped free from his knot. "I just didn't expect this. I'm not used to coming home to someone."

The tight feeling in my stomach unfurled, and now I felt strangely self-conscious instead, as if I was standing naked in front of him, because his voice had shifted, and he probably hadn't even realised it, but a glimmer of vulnerability had slipped through.

It was hard to think that someone like Jude Scott was ever vulnerable, but behind the swaggering rockstar was a man, as human as anyone else.

"Do you like having someone to come home to?" I asked.

Jude stared at me a moment longer, then he strode forward, his boots loud on the floor, and hooked his arm around my waist. He yanked me to him, so suddenly that I squeaked, then his mouth was on mine, hard and demanding and utterly delicious. His lips were soft, but he hadn't shaved today, and the slight abrasion of his jaw against my skin sent sparks skittering through me.

What would that abrasion feel like against more sensitive parts of my body?

He pushed me back, his arm still locked around my waist, mouth on mine, until I hit the edge of the bar, and my hips impulsively surged forward, pressing against his. Jude made a noise that was almost a growl.

Even through his jeans he was hard as steel, and heat flooded me, my whole body flaring to life as he kissed me, harder, deeper, his hips rocking against mine, and my mind spun, thoughts scattering, because I hadn't known it was possible to be kissed like this.

What the hell else could Jude do with this magic mouth?

My stomach chose that moment to break the spell by loudly rumbling. Jude blinked at me, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded, his breathing quicker than normal.

"Sorry," I said.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I had brunch with Elle."

"Nothing since then?"

I gave a little shrug. "I wanted to wait for you."

He stared at me a beat longer. I wanted him to keep kissing me, and he obviously wanted that too, judging by the hardness that was still pressed against me, but my stomach rumbled again, and Jude laughed.

"I think you need this more than I do," he said.

My mouth went dry before I realised he was talking about the food.

I fumbled behind me for the beer. The glass was cool against my palm – when had it got so hot in here?

"Thanks," Jude said, as I handed him the bottle.

He looked calm and unruffled, his eyes dancing with amusement, while my skin felt hot and tight, and my knees were liquid, and my heart pounded like thunder.

"Go sit down," I said, flapping a hand at him. "I'll get dinner ready."

"I can help," he offered.

"No, you've been working all day and I haven't. Let me do this."

Also, I needed to put some distance between us before I mauled him. I tried to focus on the steaks, but I felt the weight of his gaze on my back, and it made me ache in places that hadn't ached in a long time.

Sex with Jake had been pleasant, if unremarkable, but one kiss with Jude Scott had made me feel like my whole body was coming out of hibernation, and I had no idea how to put it back to sleep.

We ate dinner together like civilised adults, and I managed not to climb across the table and kiss his face off. While I was dumping the plates in the sink, Jude grabbed a few more beers from the fridge.

"Come up to the roof with me," he said.

Seeing it in the morning, with sunrise staining the horizon, had been beautiful enough but seeing it at night was a whole other experience. The sky looked huge, and the stars were like a handful of glitter tossed onto a spill of ink. The lights of London looked tiny by comparison.

The terrace itself was lit by square lights set into the walls, and the glow was soft and muted, making the space seem more cosy and intimate than it was during the day.

Jude dropped into a padded chair with a groan, and put his feet on the nearest table.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I just need to unwind. Making music can be exhilarating, but it's fucking exhausting too." Jude handed me a beer.

"How did it go?"

Jude swigged his own beer before answering. He'd pulled his hair out of the knot just after dinner, and those messy curls fell around his face, wilder than ever. I wanted to grip them tight while he kissed me again.

"Slow," he said. "Something's still missing but I don't know what it is."

"So how do you fix it?"

"Keep going to the studio until I work out what the problem is. We'll get there in the end. We always do." Jude yawned. "How was brunch with Elle?"

I took that to mean he didn't want to talk about the album anymore. I told him about my day, but Jude didn't respond, and when I glanced up, I realised why.

Jude's head rested on his knuckles, his elbow balanced on the arm of the chair, eyes closed. His other hand still held his beer, but his grip was slack, and the neck of the bottle was tilting over, about to spill onto the ground.

I put down my own beer.

Any other time, I might have been offended if a guy had fallen asleep while I was talking to him, but I'd never seen Jude look as tired as when he got home tonight.

I got up and carefully eased the bottle out of his hand before he dropped it. Jude didn't stir. His chest rose and fell with quiet, even breaths, his eyelashes fanned out above his cheekbones. His wedding ring gleamed.

Could we really do this?

Was there actually a chance that this month would work out?

What happened then?

Did we publicise our marriage?

Did we extend the trial run?

I touched my own ring, my thumb circling the diamond's hard edges. If this didn't work, I got the feeling that Jude wouldn't expect the ring back. But what would I do with it? It was probably worth a small fortune, and considering my finances, the smart thing would be to sell it. But it would be the only thing I had of this extraordinary, unexpected period in my life.

"Stop thinking about that now. You don't know what's going to happen," I ordered myself.

Jude looked so peaceful that I didn't want to wake him, but he wouldn't thank me for letting him sleep when he woke up tomorrow, stiff and aching from an awkward night in a chair.

"Jude," I whispered.

He didn't respond.

I touched his shoulder, and whispered his name a little louder, but still there was nothing. I shook him harder, and this time his head shot up, his eyes flitting around the terrace.

My heart clenched.

For three years, all I'd seen of Jude Scott was the charismatic, arrogant rockstar, owning whatever stage he strutted on, dominating every space with his magnetic presence. But in that moment, the rockstar was stripped away, and he almost looked like a little boy, raw and exhausted.

I wondered how many people ever got to see him like this.

"You need to get to bed," I said, crouching in front of him.

He blinked and focused on my face. One hand came up, the back of his finger brushing my chin, just under my lip, like he was reassuring himself that I was real.

"Come on," I said, taking his hand.

I pulled him to his feet and guided him down the stairs into the loft, and then past the living space to his bedroom.

"You're working too hard. Maybe give yourself a break tomorrow," I said.

Jude grunted, which could have been interpreted as a 'yes' or a 'hell no'. I decided not to press it.

He disappeared into his room, and a second after the door closed, I heard the creak of his bed as he collapsed onto it. He couldn't even have got undressed.

I went into my own room. I should have been tired, considering the time, but my mind was wide awake. I couldn't stop thinking about that kiss.

***

The muted sound of a strumming guitar woke me. I rolled over in bed, shoving strands of hair out of my eyes, and listened. It wasn't far away enough to be coming from another apartment, but it was far enough away that it wasn't in the loft. Up on the roof, then.

I sat up, blinked, then narrowed my eyes.

I hadn't noticed last night, but all the clothes I'd taken to Vegas had been washed, ironed, and were now carefully hung on the dress rail. I definitely hadn't done that, and I wasn't sure that Jude even did his own laundry, let alone mine, which left . . . Annie?

Was that normal for a PA?

She'd seemed nice enough when we had dinner at Heathrow's private terminal, but I didn't like the thought of her coming into my room when I wasn't here and washing my underwear.

Still, I should be glad that I had clean underwear, because if Annie hadn't done my laundry, I'd have had nothing.

Bright sunlight framed the edges of my curtains, but I still slipped on some socks before heading up to the terrace.

I found Jude in the chair where he'd fallen asleep last night. He was shirtless, his bare feet propped on the table, his fingers plucking the strings of the electric guitar in his lap. It wasn't one of the three that hung on the wall, so I assumed it was something he kept in his room.

He glanced up as I padded onto the terrace, but his fingers never stopped strumming.

"Did you get any sleep?" I asked.

"Yeah." The corner of his mouth crooked up in a little half smile. "Thanks for not leaving me on the roof."

I sat on the seat opposite him, and tucked my legs up.

"Nice socks," Jude said, still strumming.

I looked down. I'd grabbed the first pair that came to hand, which I only now realised were old, grey, woolly, and about as unsexy as socks could be. Then again, were any socks sexy?

"Thanks," I said, with dignity.

His smile widened. "Nice shirt."

"I thought you'd like it."

Usually I'd never wear one of my precious vintage band tees as pyjamas, but my Twisted Sister T-shirt was about six sizes too large and reached my knees, so I'd made an exception.

Jude's eyes were still on me, and at first I thought he was staring at Dee Snider's face plastered across my chest, then understanding clicked in. He was staring at my chest.

"They're just tits," I said.

"They're very nice tits."

"How can you tell?" My T-shirt drowned me.

Heat flashed in Jude's eyes. "It's a bit cold this morning."

Oh.

Oh.

I looked down.

Yep, my nipples had definitely perked up and were saying hello, pushing against the cotton shirt. I thought about crossing my arms over them, then decided I didn't care if he looked.

"Is this one of your new songs?" I asked, nodding at the guitar.

Jude's fingers finally stilled on the strings. "It's a work in progress, but yeah. What do you think?"

"You really want my opinion?" My favourite rockstar asking my advice on a new track was almost stranger than said favourite rockstar drunkenly marrying me.

Jude's eyes drifted back to my T-shirt. "I like your taste in music, so yeah, I am."

"Play it again," I said.

"I'm messing around with a couple of variations," Jude said, and his fingers returned to the guitar strings. He didn't have Darrell's skills but he could play, and I relaxed in my seat, letting the music wash over me. It was a softer melody than Angels & Demons' usual stuff, but I could imagine Jude singing along to it, his voice a husky purr.

I studied him as he played. That panty-dropping smile was gone now, and the shape of his mouth was serious, lips slightly pursed, his brown eyes intense but staring at nothing in particular, lost in the music.

There was something surprisingly intimate about it, like he was sharing something with me that he wouldn't share with many other people.

The music stopped. "Okay, that's the first version. Here's the second," Jude said.

This version was faster, and I could imagine a rapid drum beat backing it, but something was missing, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Jude stopped playing again. "What do you think?"

"They're both good, but there's something about the first one that I like more."

"Why?" His eyes were fixed on me, as dark as they'd been when we kissed, but there was no heat in them now, only the passion of the music.

I tried to find the right words. "Your heart's in the first one, not the second. I could tell from your expression. The first one's the one you believe in, and I can hear that in the music somehow."

Jude continued to stare at me, and the weight of his gaze was almost physical. Had I said the wrong thing?

Finally Jude nodded, chocolate curls falling into his eyes. "That's what I thought too."

He played the tune again, and I closed my eyes, basking in the warmth of the music and the sun. Was this what a life with Jude would always be like?

Yesterday, Elle had warned me that there were downsides to dating someone like Jude, but it was harder to remember that when I was on the roof with him, sharing this quiet, special moment.

Even if this didn't work out, I'd remember moments like this forever.

"You want some breakfast?" Jude asked.

I opened my eyes.

The guitar was now leaning beside Jude's chair, which gave me an unobstructed view of his sculpted, tatted chest.

My heart fluttered.

"You're undressing me with your eyes," Jude said.

"You're half undressed already."

"I wanted to give you something nice to look at."

"I feel like you're fishing for compliments."

He grinned. "I am."

"I'm not going to feed your ego."

"You already have." He pointed at me. "Your eyes say it all."

My lips twitched, but there was no point denying it.

"Breakfast would be good," I said, trying to steer the conversation to safer territory.

Jude took out his phone and tapped the screen a couple of times. "I'm ordering something in," he said.

"Ordering what?"

His eyes twinkled. "Wait and see."