“Damn, that’s bad timing,” the friend said. “I was about to grill her about you.”
“Why don’t you ask me?” he asked.
“Ryan.” Julia scowled at him, an expression he’d noticed her wearing a lot tonight.
He tut-tutted. “Didn’t your mother warn you the changing wind can fix a frown in place? Your smile is much sexier.”
The friend laughed, despite Julia’s deepening glower.
“I’m Ryan,” he said, sticking out his hand. He flicked a glance in Julia’s direction. “Julia’s husband.”
“Maggie,” she said. “Connor’s wife.”
“The big dude who can’t keep his eyes off you?”
“That would be the one,” she said with a fond grin.
“Julia, can we talk?”
“I’ll leave you alone,” Maggie said, brushing past Julia.
“No,” Julia blurted, her hand snapping out to grip her friend’s arm.
“Julia,” Maggie protested.
“Why don’t I tell you about the sound and lighting system first,” Ryan said, watching his wife glance at the door with longing. Now dressed, she appeared cool, armor in place. Damn, he’d hurt her. Seeing Julia had brought back forgotten memories and filled some gaps. After they’d married, she’d told him of some of her past with boyfriends, joked about her bad luck until she met him. Now she’d consigned him to the top of the male scrapheap and donned her bitchy manner to conceal her pain. To set her at ease, he plunged into the conclusions he and Caleb had come to regarding the current setup.
“So we can get by with cosmetic fixes on the curtains and props?” she asked.
“That’s good news,” Maggie said. “Six bottles of vodka.”
“Six? Damn, the vodka is short too. Someone has been helping themselves to the booze.” Julia jotted down the number against the computer-generated stock list.
“Ah, heck. Look at the time,” Maggie said. “We need to hit the other club before the line gets too long. I’ll tell the others.” She sped off, leaving Ryan clear to speak in private with Julia.
“I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say,” Julia said.
“Please, hear me out. The mugging story is true. While we were in Munich, I was attacked. Three guys were hassling a woman and I stopped to help. After I escorted her home, the guys jumped me, beat me up pretty bad.” He paused, trying to dig the rusty facts from his swirling head. “I was left with short-term memory loss. It’s taken a while to remember things.”
Her stiff manner dispersed a fraction. “Are you okay now?”
“Some of my memories are still fuzzy. I didn’t remember you straight away.”
“That’s good for my ego,” Julia said drily.
“Do you think this has been fun for me? I remembered our songs. We had to cancel one concert, but until I returned home and checked my mail, I only recalled your first name. The divorce papers were a rude awakening.”
She cocked her head to the side, her expression unreadable. “You didn’t tell Caleb about your marriage?”
“You asked me not to.” Ryan held her gaze, wanting to reach out and touch her in the worst way. “Remember your long lecture about wanting to maintain your privacy and avoid nosy questions from reporters and ladies’ magazines? I still say you wouldn’t get much of that because we’re anonymous offstage.” His gaze traced the high cheekbones, her straight nose and the curve of her full lips. A zip of heat struck his groin, and a rush of memories bombarded him—crystal clear and perfect. Of making love to her, her mouth on him. Those lips of hers were something else. “You didn’t tell your friends either.”
“No.” Something dark swirled in her eyes for a second. Maybe regret?
“I don’t want a divorce, Julia. I want this marriage. I want you.”
She swallowed, focusing on the paper clutched in her hands. “I can’t do a long-distance marriage. I thought it would be okay, but…” She trailed off, still not looking at him.
“We’re home for a few months,” he said. “Seymour wants us to write new material and record another album. Couldn’t we start again? Face our problems together without secrets this time?”
