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He tilted his head, his eyes glittering in the reflected light from the window, his face in shadow.
She wished she could see his expression. “I’m sorry. That was a mean thing to say.”
There was a moment’s silence, followed by a chuckle. A totally panty-melting chuckle. “Totally mean. At least you think I’m hot. It’s okay, darlin’, I can cope with a little rejection now and then.”
She doubted it happened very often. Especially when he saiddarlin’with the Southern US accent. “I should get to bed.”
He took the hint the way she meant it, moving to the door and leaning on the frame. “I’m not going to give the obvious answer. I will say, sleep well.”
He was gone. Leaving her with the certain knowledge she would not be sleeping well biting at her.
She went into the en suite bathroom and flicked on the light. Her lips were red and puffy. Totally matching her nose. Bonnie had no faith in those winter advertisements of glamourous women being snogged in the snow with perfect complexions. Leaving the light out would have been a brilliant move, if she’d actually thought about it.
Pulling off her jumper, she examined the disk stuck beside her navel and unhooked the electronic device from the belt on her jeans, glancing at the small panel. About average. She quickly did a blood glucose test to confirm and tucked the insulin pump into her bra while she finished getting ready for bed.
That could have been embarrassing. She’d only had the pump for four years, making the transition from injecting before travelling overseas. She’d never been in a situation where a potential lover might have commented on the small device connected to her by a thin tube. For the first time in years, she felt a surge of irritation about having to plan ahead for such a normal thing as sex.
Not that she was having sex with Xander. The problem was, he made her think of sex. Lovely hot, delicious sex. Fun sex. It was always fun with Xander. Talk about absence making the heart grow fonder. Only it wasn’t her heart causing the melting of her vitals. She had that unruly organ under tight control.
With the pump in the special pocket sewn into her pyjama bottoms, she rolled into bed. She was not going to dream about Xander. Definitely not. He was in the past. About ten metres down the corridor and around the corner in the present. Nowhere at all in her future. Unfortunately.
*
Xander flung hisbelt onto the spare bed and kicked his boots underneath it. That went well.Not.Bonnie was as skittish as a bronco on a tight rein. Not that he was an expert on broncs. He’d had a go at it over in the US, much to his agent’s horror. Especially when he’d blistered his hands on the reins. Playing the next few gigs had been… difficult. Luckily, Leo had been able to fill in the fancy guitar licks, leaving him to strum along like a kid at his first music class. Lesson learned. Don’t mess with the tools of his trade.
Had the hard callouses on his fingertips left marks on Bonnie’s soft skin? He’d been gentle enough. It was going to be tough winning her back again. Especially when he had Tamara on his plate. Things should be fully sorted after the appointment with Trey on Tuesday, but it wasn’t only monetary support he owed her. She deserved emotional support as well.
The last four years had been a nightmare with all the things that had gone wrong, starting with Bonnie leaving and the incident with Tamara soon after and culminating in his bass player’s overdose. He never wanted to go through an ordeal like this last tour ever again. Tinker’s death had been the last straw. Not having Bonnie around through it all had left him feeling more alone than ever.
Of course, Xander had wondered if the pressures of the tour had contributed to his friend’s death. If he’d been at fault for pushing for the longer tour, knowing it could be a farewell tour. It was an obvious concern. The evidence at the inquest proved the overdose and its results had been a long time coming. They’d put Tinker into a clinic a couple of times over the years and he always said he was okay afterwards. Living so closely, with all the pressures, it was hard to tell if the mood swings were drugs or the edginess of being constantly in each other’s pockets, exacerbated by the pressure of performing at their best, night after night.
Tinker loved that side of it. Up there on stage, with the audience screaming their love for him. He was the best looking of the guys in the band. The pin-up bad boy. It spoiled him. The unquestioning adulation. The money. The girls. So many damn girls. Along with the drugs, it was no wonder he’d ended up bankrupt. Xander was still cleaning up his mess.
*
The morning broughta brighter view of the world. The sun was shining at least. He jogged downstairs to retrieve his parka from the front foyer. Bonnie’s coat was already gone and the front door unlocked. He opened it and shivered in his standard T-shirt and flannel. Snow covered the street outside, the front garden a mosaic of green and white where shrubs resisted the enveloping snow. Along the street, a group of kids were building a snowman, dressed warmly in bright parkas. He’d done the same as a kid, but they rarely lasted long once the sun hit. Today might be different. The wind was icy and the scurrying clouds might build into more snow.
“Close the door, for heaven’s sake. You’re letting a blizzard inside. Geez, Xander. I wondered where the draft was coming from.”
He turned with a laugh at Bonnie’s exaggeration. “After your time in Canada, you should be thinking of this as a balmy summer breeze.” He closed the door and moved to take the fully laden tray from her. She was neatly dressed in black trousers and a matching T-shirt, with a long black apron tied around her waist.
“Uh huh. You go keep your gran under control.”
She scooted away into the dining room and unloaded the tray onto the buffet. He watched her neat movements, enjoying the sense of calm she always brought. He’d missed her; so damn much.
There was a decent crowd seated at the small tables, so she’d be busy for a while. Obeying her brisk instructions, he headed to the private apartments using the door at the back of the hall. Don was eating bacon and eggs and a half-empty plate marked Flo’s place. Xander shook his head. How Bonnie was going to keep his grandmother out of the kitchen now her wrist had started to heal and wasn’t painful would be a constant challenge.
Flo was rummaging in the large commercial fridge, one-handed.
“What are you after?”
She backed away from the fridge with a grimace. “I thought I could make a start on the lunch. Tamara won’t be in until later. Her road is blocked at the gully.”
“I’ll help.”
She went all old-fashioned with pursed lips. “It’s your welcome home lunch. You shouldn’t be cooking it.”
He gave her a gentle shove out of the kitchen. “Go finish your breakfast.”
