Pulled from a wonderful dream by the ring of her phone, Dawn lifted the annoying device and scowled at her caller ID. It was barely Sunday—wasn’t she allowed an entire weekend off? She’d met her deadline, what more did Wes want from her? She considered not answering, but couldn’t help but wonder what the movie studio thought of the song. It was probably too soon for them to have an opinion about “Blue,” she told herself, still not sure if she was answering on the third ring. Maybe the fax of the music scores hadn’t gone through or . . . .
“Hello,” she answered.
“Hey, kiddo. Sorry to bother you at this hour, but I need you to come back to L.A. before you head to Prague on Wednesday.”
“I leave for Prague on Wednesday?” That was too soon. She’d been so busy enjoying Kellen that she hadn’t even practiced her program. Shit!
“Actually, you leave Tuesday night. Your performance is Wednesday.”
Double shit!
“My flight is out of Houston, isn’t it?” She wasn’t even sure. She really needed to hire a good personal assistant. Especially now that her thoughts were muddled with great sex and magnificent company. Kellen stirred beside her, his hand reaching across the bed to rest on her bare thigh, but he didn’t open his eyes. After they’d finished their French toast, he’d seemed determined to demonstrate that he’d only be calling her name in ecstasy from that night forward.
“Why do you need me in L.A.?”
“The movie executives listened to your song and want to meet you in person as soon as possible.”
“Oh,” she said flatly. They must have thousands of ideas on how to improve the score and as she was under contract, she was obligated to alter the song to suit their needs. It was the worst part about getting paid for her music, second only to those dreaded deadlines.
“They loved it, by the way. Don’t sound so discouraged.”
“If they loved it, why do they want to meet in person?” A movie executive had never asked to meet her in person. She’d never even met the producer or director of Ashen Falls until after she’d won the Grammy for the closing credits song.
“Because you’re a star, sweetheart. Everyone wants to meet stars.”
Dawn snorted. “Me? A star? I might be sleeping with one, but—”
Wes’s bark of laughter cut her off. “When are you going to figure this out, kid? You are a star. You might not be in the spotlight, but your music is known. People will hear it and think of you and not even know who they’re thinking of.”
“Right. So I’m not a star.”
Wes sighed so loud, she couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Will you just get your ass to L.A.? I’ll have Glenda rearrange your travel plans so you can make your flight to Prague on time.”
“Fine,” she said. “I suppose I won’t be able to catch the Sole Regret show on Monday night, then.”
Now it was Wes’s turn to chuckle. “You really are a band groupie, aren’t you?”
She stroked a long lock of silky black hair from Kellen’s bronze shoulder. “Just for their guitarist.”
Wes laughed again. “Good for you.”
“And, Wes?”
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“You wouldn’t happen to have my program for the Prague show, would you?”
“You haven’t been rehearsing?”
Her face went hot. She should have been practicing for the past few weeks, but first her writer’s block had interrupted her schedule and now she had much better prospects taking over her time. “Of course I have,” she lied. “I just want to make sure I’ve been practicing the right pieces.”
“I’ll have Glenda email it to you in the morning.”
“Probably best if I get that email tonight.”
“You haven’t been practicing at all, have you?”
“I’d planned to rehearse this weekend, but I’ve been preoccupied.”
“With that guitarist.”
Dawn ran a finger along Kellen’s shoulder. He was definitely a preoccupation.
“Yeah.”
“Is he what got you over your writer’s block?”
“Yep.”
“Then I won’t scold you, but you’d better start practicing.”
“I know every note,” she said. Chopin was her favorite composer. She’d played every piece of piano music he’d ever written hundreds of times. But she could definitely use a refresher. She loved Prague and wouldn’t want to disappoint her fans. She laughed at herself for even thinking of them that way.
“Do you still want your career divided into performances and composing? Because if you want to give up performing to concentrate on—”
“No,” she blurted. She needed to perform. She needed the attentive audience and the applause. She didn’t get that from composing. “Performances pay my bills.” They did, but that wasn’t really why she needed to perform. “I can’t say the same for my composing.”
“You might think differently come Monday evening. You know I’m here to guide you, whatever you decide.”
Her heart thudded and began to race. “What are you saying, Wes? What’s this meeting about?”
“Your future. If you so choose.” Wes chuckled. “I promised not to spill the beans—what few they gave me—so I’m hanging up now.”
“Wes?”
“I’ll email the set list to you.”
“Wes! What’s the meeting about?”
“Get your fill of that guitarist,” he said. “You might be too busy to see him for a while.”
The phone went silent as Wes disconnected.
Thousands of thoughts swirled through her head as she waited for Wes’s email. Maybe he’d offer her further clues about the upcoming meeting with the movie executives.
Movie executives? She couldn’t begin to fathom why they’d want to meet with her in the first place. And what had Wes meant about her being able to choose between performances and composing? Composing took forever and the payoff was small in comparison to her performances, which took little time and had a huge payoff. If she could make a living at composing would she want to stop performing? Not entirely, but maybe she’d accept fewer invitations. And, and how could Kellen sleep at a time like this?
She grabbed a pillow and hit him in the back. He squeezed his eyelids tighter and rolled from his stomach to his side.
“Hey, sleepyhead, my agent just called. The movie executives liked the song.”
“Of course they did,” he mumbled. “It’s a masterpiece.”
“But they want to meet with me tomorrow. Why do they want to meet with me?”
“Because you’re a star. Everyone wants to meet stars.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “You sound like Wes. I’m not a star. You’re a star.”
“I’m a flicker to your supernova.”
She squeaked in surprise when his arm looped around her belly and he pulled her down onto the mattress beside him. “Come here, supernova. I’ve got the sudden need to be caught in your explosion.”
She laughed. “Sometimes you say the corniest things.”
Chapter Eleven