13 - Night Cap

“That… was amazin’,” Lilah sighed, embarrassed that she’d eaten the entire piece of sinful cheesecake. 

“It sounded like it.”

With a quizzical glance at Tony, she asked, “Sounded like it?”

He peered down into the empty highball glass, smiling at the stack of slowly melting ice cubes.  “Yeah.  You were making sex noises while you ate it.  Your whole dinner actually.  You always do that?”

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.”  Lilah closed her eyes, willing the indignity away.  It wasn’t something she did all the time, nor did she do it intentionally.  When it happened, she typically wasn’t even aware of it. 

“Nope.  Not kidding.”

Of course he wasn’t.  Her body may not show it now, but a fat chick still lived inside of her, and the girl loved her food.  Clearly, Lilah was going to have to keep a tighter lid on her Petunia Pig alter-ego. 

“No, I don’t do it all the time,” she finally sighed, pushing the empty dessert plate away in disgust.  “Just when somethin’ tastes really good.”

“In that case, I’m glad you liked your dinner.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

There was a God who watched out over fools and children, because the lovely Tori arrived, seamlessly interjecting herself into Lilah’s mortification.  Hopefully that blatant display of cleavage looming over the table would provide Tony with sufficient distraction from the abominable 'sex noises'.

“Lilah?”

“Just the check please.”

“But o’course," came the perky agreement, the accompanying smile aimed directly at the handsome Mr. Bongiovi.  One more reason for Lilah to want to throw up.  "Will that be on one tab or two?”

“Two,” she requested at the same time Tony said, “One.” 

She’d accepted his invitation with every intention of paying for her own dinner.  Now that he’d been subjected to her food crooning, there was no way she was backing down on that.

Lilah firmly reiterated, “Two, please.”

Tori ignored her and waited for Tony to issue the final mandate.  Feeling peevish at the blatant rebuff, Lilah almost wiped her spoon clean and offered it to the waitress.  If she was going to eat the man up, she might as well have the proper tools, right?

It was probably for the best that she didn't find the nerve to do it before Tony chose to put them all out of their misery.  He didn't drag out the argument any longer, offering a smile and nod of acquiescence to Tori.  “Two is fine.”

Biting back the urge to stick her out tongue in a silent 'take that', Lilah quickly found that any sense of victory was to be short-lived.  As soon as the girl had gotten out of earshot,  Tony firmly reclaimed his original stance.  “I’ll pay ‘em both.”

“Tony, you don’t have to do that.”

“But I asked you to dinner, so I am doing it.”

“I can pay for my own meal,” she stubbornly insisted, to which he lowered his eyebrows in a perturbed scowl.

“Lilah, I don’t give a good goddamn if you can pay for every meal in here.  You’re not paying for yours.  Now let it go.”

A shiver stole up her spine.  His resolve would be intimidating in the right situation, but, in this case, she found it quite flattering.  She had been out with very few men who wouldn’t take advantage of her offer to save themselves a little money.

It’s another sign.  He’s different.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure.”

Tori arrived with the checks and Tony immediately brought out his wallet and credit card.  With another flirtatious smile, she accepted it and sashayed away with a flounce of her little barmaid skirt.   

“Thank you,” Lilah murmured, wondering how the hell she was sitting here with this man, when he could clearly be out with any number of women.  Women like the young and beautiful Tori who didn’t have either the physical or emotional scarring that she did.

Not for the first time, she experienced a moment’s insecurity over why she was here  If she couldn’t get through a single evening without curling into her shell, she wondered how she was ever going to feel comfortable with him. 

Oh fuck a duck, already!  You felt comfortable in his ‘enchanted forest’ today, so stop being a whiny ass!

“Welcome.   You ready to head back to the hotel?”

The time had come for the Harley coach from this fairytale day to turn itself back into a pumpkin taxi.  Lilah had no complaints.  It had been a lovely time at the ball.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

✧✧✧

The trip back to the hotel was nice.  Not at all awkward like she thought it would be after the debate over who was paying for dinner.  Tony pointed out the taxi window at a few sights he was familiar with and asked if she’d ever been to Ireland or Europe before.  She told him that most of her travel had been done in the United States.  Back and forth they went until, much to her surprise, the twenty minute cab ride had flown by and, with it, much of the lingering worry about being able to relax with him.

The man was soooo easy going!  His laid-back sociability made him insanely easy to talk to when she wasn’t having a retarded hyena moment.  There was something about him that was… a little... mesmerizing?  It baffled her as to why he didn't have a horde of women following him around.

She smiled her thanks as he held the hotel lobby door for her.

And he’s got manners. Where is his fatal flaw that keeps him single?

“Are you ready for bed?”

I'm sorry.  Say again?

Astonishment had her eyes flying wide and throwing him a look of incredulity.  That couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like it meant.

“Obviously not the best choice of words,” he chuckled, coming to a standstill at the entrance of the hotel bar and pushing his hands in his pockets.  “I’m gonna grab a drink in the bar.  If you're not tired, you’re welcome to join me if ya want.”

She chose to ignore that he’d already had at least four drinks.  He was in his own hotel and wouldn’t be driving anywhere.  If he wanted another drink, who was she to judge?  And if he wanted her to join him...

Why not? 

“Sure.  Maybe they’ll have a cute l’il umbrella drink I like.”

Two hours later, she had accumulated enough umbrellas for a miniature beach.  Lilah actually only drank about three Bahama Mamas, but Tony asked the bartender to stick extra ones in each drink.  The aftermath easily netted her half a dozen of the multi-colored paper parasols.  Oh, and a slight tropical buzz, definitively ensuring that it was easily one of the most enjoyable nights she’d spent in ages. 

He wasn’t defensive or secretive when she asked him about his music preferences, and she was pleased to find out that they shared similar taste in Coldplay, Matchbox Twenty and Train.  Her adamant assurance that Andrew's buddy sounded just like Pat Monahan had him laughing.

He was also open and forthcoming when she wanted to know what initially drew him into photography.  Lilah could even agree with his rationale that it was surest way to not be the subject of the pictures.

They exchanged stories about their work, with Lilah revealing some of the more humorous ones from her tech-challenged students, while he told her about the crazier musicians.  She still couldn’t get over the Slayer documentary. 

“It was kinda like a test for myself.  No, I’m not a metal head, but now I know I can separate myself from the music and do good video for pretty much anybody,” he explained, and she had the fleeting thought that maybe his fair dose of whiskey might be making him more talkative than usual.

She nodded her understanding while trying to unsuccessfully to swallow a yawn.

“Am I boring ya, Bluegrass?”

Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she apologized.  “Sorry, Jersey.  The alcohol is making me sleepy.  I guess it’s time for me to turn in.”

He grinned at the nickname and  immediately reached into his pocket for a couple of bills to toss out as a tip for the bartender.  There had been only minimal quibbling over the drinks when they first arrived.  He agreed to let her pay for her own, but staunchly refused to let her buy his, saying that his macho pride wouldn’t tolerate it, and she respectfully accepted that. 

Standing, he gestured toward the door with his head.  “C’mon, I’ll walk you up.  What’s your room number?”

“Five twenty-seven.”

She didn’t understand his laughter until Tony explained,  “I’m in five twenty-three.  Two doors down from you, I guess.”

“Well, at least you know the way.”

“True ‘dat.”

He gestured for her to lead the way to the elevator, appreciating the gentle sway of her hips as she walked in front of him.  His demeanor had softened a lot toward Ms. Bennett today – particularly in the last couple of hours.  She lost a good deal of her timidity after a drink or two, and let her real personality shine through. 

The stories about the tech students had been funny, but what had been even more entertaining were her one-line smartass comments in response to whatever he was saying.  The unexpected sarcasm caught him off-guard a couple of times, making him laugh out loud. 

Lilah Bennett was fun to hang out with, he thought as the elevator doors parted on the fifth floor.

Their doors were at the far end of the corridor and both were quiet on the journey, in deference to the late hour and other guests.  Upon arriving at five twenty-seven, Lilah stepped up to the door, then turned so that it was at her back and tipped her chin up with a sleepy smile.

“This is me.”

“So it is.  I’ll just say goodnight and let you get some sleep then.”

Without even thinking, he leaned in to dust her mouth with a simple kiss, much like he’d given to a hundred other casual female acquaintances.  Unlike those hundred other females, as soon as their lips touched, Lilah mewled out one of those damn-sexy food purrs.  This particular instance of that tiny noise packed a bigger punch than her extended appreciation of the Bailey’s cheesecake.

“Does that mean I taste really good?” he asked, withdrawing half a step.  They weren’t touching - not even standing all that close, really - but he thought he could taste her breath as he peered from beneath hooded lids. 

Her milk chocolate hair faintly swished in denial.  “It... means you felt good.  I didn’t really get an actual taste.”

She wasn't the only one who didn't get a good taste and, before he could over-analyze it, Tony decided that he wanted one.  And that he would have it.

Tony planted a beefy palm against the door's surface, a scant inch to the right of her head, and leaned in close.  He could feel the fine Irish whiskey swimming like fire through his veins with each beat of his heart, and it acted like his favorite camera filter, softly smudging out all the useless noise and leaving only her face in sharp focus.

"Lemme fix that for ya,” he offered quietly, before slanting his mouth over hers.

Her lips immediately parted on a whisper-soft sigh, and he used the opportunity to claim swift possession of the sweetness that lie inside.  One of those erotic purrs fired up and gradually swelled from the back of her throat, ultimately vibrating against his teeth.  He could taste the combination of sugary fruit juice and rum swirled through with the faintest hints of cheesecake and whiskey.

Fuck she tastes sweet.

When she timidly pushed her tongue into his mouth and melted against him, Tony went stiff as a board behind his zipper.  Blatant desire had him curving hard fingers over her hip and filling her mouth with his tongue.  He took his time, thoroughly exploring every dark, wet crevice while her increasingly frantic fingers plundered in his hair.

The woman kissed like a damn angel. It was so fucking sensual that he found himself pinning her to the door with his hips, rocking into her softness.  His groan of appreciation now overrode hers as the predominant sound ringing in his ears. 

She tasted good.  She felt good.  She made him feel good.  His alcohol-blurred thoughts encouraged him to take her.

“What does she want with you?”

“She wants backstage at my fucking show.”

“God only knows what she’s after.”

Fuck Jon and Dorothea’s voices rudely interrupting his horny haze with a high-octane dose of reality. 

He couldn’t do this.  Not now.  Maybe not ever.

“Lilah,” he breathed, his resolve almost shattered by her cloudy gaze.  The blue-green irises were unfocused and shining like glass, but he blinked away their Bambi-esque effect, putting a cork in his rampant desire.  “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Oh.”  Slowly allowing her hands to fall away, she pushed her shoulder blades flat against the door to create some space between them.  At the willing retreat, Tony eased away, his footstep silent against the carpet runner.  “Yeah, it’s probably not.  I’m sorry.”

The embarrassed flush that mottled her neck annoyed him.  “Why are you apologizing?  I’m the one who kissed you, and I’m not a damn bit sorry.”

After blinking her lashes rapidly several times, she seemed to gather some kind of inner composure and nodded once.  “Good.  Because I’m not either.  Not really.  You do taste good, by the way.”

Christ, when she flipped that switch to go from meek and mild to confident, a light went on inside her.  Did she know how that hint of swagger intensified her sex appeal?

He knew the answer to that without asking.  No.  She had no idea.  He didn’t know what her deal was, but she didn’t carry herself like a woman who wanted to attract that kind of attention. 

“So do you, Bahama Mama.” 

It was so tempting to steal another taste, but if he didn’t walk away now, he might not walk away at all.  And, regardless of her heated stance against marriage, Lilah wasn’t the type for a casual screw.  He couldn’t resist a quick brush of his fingertips against her cheek though.  The skin there was satiny soft.

“Call me when you get to Istanbul and we’ll work out the details of the show.”  He had exchanged cell numbers with her earlier, in the bar.  Their time together had eased his worry over giving up that personal information.  She wasn’t crazy, and she wouldn’t sell it to the highest bidder. 

The pink tip of her tongue came out and moistened her still-damp lips, commanding his gaze even as she nodded.  “Okay.  I’ll be there the day before.”

It was his turn to nod.  Good.  They were back to business.  “Sounds like a plan.  Good night, Lilah Bennett.”

Then, before he realized what she was doing, Lilah popped up on her tip-toes and pulled his face to hers for another sweet, searing kiss that stole his breath.  Tony was ready to haul her into his arms and devour every last granule of sugar in that sweet mouth - Jon and Dorothea be damned - when she slipped out of his grasp as easily as she had stepped in.

“G’night, Anthony Bongiovi,” she uttered softly.  “I had a good time today.  Thank you.”

He looked mutely on as she pulled the key card out of her back pocket and slipped it in the slot.  When the lock released and the door swung inward, Lilah stepped over the threshold and turned to offer him a tentative smile.

Then, in one of his least profound moments ever, he mumbled,  “Yeah, no problem.  See ya next week.”

Sometimes he wondered if he was a fucking idiot.

  

Enchanted Forest Photo

I almost didn't post this, because I was afraid I didn't do it justice with my description.  Ultimately, I decided it was too cool not to post.  :)

12 - Different Kind of Fairytale

“Well, damn.  How many husbands do you have?  I know you guys marry your cousins in Kentucky, but I didn’t realize you married all of them.”

Lilah laughed despite herself, finding humor in the familiar inbreeding jokes that often plagued her part of the country.  Considering the scowl that had darkened his features a moment ago, his deliberate misconception and attempt at light-heartedness were much appreciated.  It put her mind in a different direction, although she wouldn’t mind revisiting the direction that his casually uttered ‘baby’ had taken her a few minutes ago. 

“I have two previous husbands.  Andrew’s father – Walter – was the first.  We were married for nine years.”  She couldn’t contain the bitterness that puckered her face.  “Amos and I were together seven.  No kids.”

“Walter and Amos?”  His curious eyebrow kicked up.  “How old were these guys?”

“They’re both younger than me, if you can believe it with those awful names.  Crazy thing is they were both named after their fathers.  Walter Silas Bennett, Junior and Stanley Amos Spitzel, Junior.” 

“Jesus,” he snorted in disbelief.  “You’re making that up.”

Lilah’s nose wrinkled with distaste.  She’d always hated her husbands’ names.  Walter’s surname was the only bearable one in the bunch.  It was part of the reason she’d gone back to it after her second divorce.  That and it made things less confusing for the schools when she and Andrew had the same last name.

“I wish.  I told Walter there was no way in hell I was namin’ our baby Walter Silas the Third.  Two men bein’ cursed with it was enough.  I told Amos the same thing durin' the brief time we talked about havin’ kids.”

“I assume your next husband isn’t gonna have ‘Junior’ tacked behind his name?” 

“There will be no next husband.  I’m done with marriage.”

No matter how tempting it may be in the future, she knew it was in her best interest to stay away from marriage.  If she didn’t have any better judgment than to choose those two… 

Don't be so daggone hasty to damn your judgment of people.  You knew you shouldn't have married them, but you thought you could make it work anyway.  Besides, Walter was understandable.  Sort of.

They had been young.  She moved out of her parents’ house to live with a couple of girlfriends, and somehow that turned into living with him.  Of course that was after he convinced her to ditch her long-term boyfriend who was now a well-respected doctor, a mistake Lilah relived over and over in her dreams.

The whole thing had happened right before the onset of the Gulf War and, seeing as Walter had been in the reserves, he wanted to make sure she was ‘taken care of’ if he got deployed.  So what did he do?  He showed up at the office where she worked part-time, covered in grease from his own job as a mechanic, and said, “Wanna get married tomorrow?”  Like a silly naïve girl who was afraid no one else would ever ask, she did.  In the end, his ass didn’t go anywhere – including work, most of the time.

She eventually got tired of supporting him and listening to his pipe dreams.  He got tired of her not supporting his pipe dreams.  All in all it was an amicable divorce, even if he did have a woman from Michigan and her three kids moved into their house the same week she moved out.

Amos, however, was another story.  Joanna had actually set them up, and he was Joanna’s husbands’ best friend.  Still, nobody could have predicted what was going to happen with him.

Nobody could’ve predicted that dumbass and his skankalicious whore.

“You sound pretty determined about never getting married again,” Tony commented carefully, lighting another cigarette.

“You’ve been married and divorced.”  Lilah turned the tables on him with a knowing look.  She heard that his wife cheated on him, although she couldn’t be certain whether or not it was true.  “Rumor is that it wasn’t fun for you.  Do you wanna do it all over again?”

He blew a stream of smoke up into the air, so as not to cloud Lilah with it and slowly admitted, “No.  And I don't even have the scars you do.”

But he did.  They were just different than hers, because they weren't readily visible to the naked eye.  Anthony Bongiovi had no idea just how well she could see his emotional wounds and, oddly enough, how strongly they affected her.  Her heart wrenched every time she got a glimpse of one.

“Everybody has scars.”  She shook her hair to settle around her shoulders and tucked both hands under her thighs.  “Some you can see, some you can’t.  The scars you’re talkin’ about don’t have anything to do with my being soured on marriage.”

“So one of your husbands didn’t give those to you?”

Technically - and from a legal standpoint - no, but that didn’t mean she wanted to rehash it here and now.  Maybe some day she would tell him about that train wreck, but not now.  Not when they were having such a good day.

“You know the difference between a regular fairytale and a redneck one?”she asked with a grin, raising her voice a bit to be heard above the noisy laughter of the men at the next table.

His forehead wrinkled and he frowned around his cigarette before shaking his head in the negative.

“Well, instead of starting out ‘once upon a time’, a redneck fairytale starts out ‘y’all ain’t gonna believe this shit’."

His chuckle blended in with those of the neighboring men, and Lilah breathed easier.  "Trust me when I tell ya that particular story has all the makin's of a redneck fairytale.  Why don't we talk about somethin’ else?”

Tony blew out a harsh stream of smoke and flicked the ashes from the tip of the cigarette more animatedly than he normally would.  Suspecting it was one thing, but she’d practically confirmed his belief that some son of a bitch had hurt her bad enough to leave those scars behind.  What kind of pussy had to hurt a woman like that?  It pissed him off to no end, and it would whether it was Lilah Bennett or any other woman.

She was right about scars, but at least he didn’t have everybody in the damn world looking at his and wondering about them.  Whatever redneck thing had happened, she bore the marks that would remind her of it every day for the rest of her life. 

“Tony?”

Blinking, he focused on the unscathed fingers that tentatively touched the back of his hand. He’d gotten so mentally engrossed in beating the hell out of whatever kind of lowlife would disfigure a woman that he forgot where he was for a minute. 

“Yeah.  Yeah, we can talk about something else.”

Needing to take a harsh reality-check, he stepped back from his earlier warmth.  It wasn’t his place to be outraged on behalf of Lilah Bennett, and he harshly revoked his earlier thought about her reasons for being in Europe.

She was a sweet, slightly-nutty fan, but she wasn’t here for him.  That shit just didn’t happen unless the woman was a psychotic stalker with an untreated chemical imbalance.  He was a video guy with a famous brother.  So she didn’t want to meet Jon.  Getting backstage would get her at least a quick brush with Richie.

 “Stop,” Lilah interrupted his conversation with himself, further luring him out of his mind with the soft sweep of her thumb across his knuckles.

Letting his attention drift from their hands to her face, he felt the same eerie sensation as the first night – like she could see inside him.  The feeling intensified when she said, “Whatever you were thinking just now…  You’re wrong.”

Sincerity resonated in her soft declaration, and it was Tony’s turn to shiver.  Was she some kind of mind reader?  How did she know what he was thinking?

She doesn’t, Nancy Drew.  She’s telling you that you can't possibly know about her ex and the scars. 

He didn’t know what else she saw while looking in his eyes, but it made her snatch her hand away and mumble an apology. 

“I didn’t mean to be so presumptuous.”

“S’ok.”  Another big dose of nicotine and he relaxed a little.  “I was the one being presumptuous.  It's none of my business.”

The words of a thousand books swam over her face, dying to be spoken, but she didn’t utter a single one of them.  Instead, she picked up the dessert menu card and scraped her thumbnail along the bottom edge while reading.  The only sound she made was another one of those damn food purrs.

He was thankful for the opportunity to move away from the uncomfortable topic, even if this was likely to be uncomfortable in an entirely different way.

“See something you like?”

Lilah’s left cheek creased with a half-smile.  “Mm.  Bailey’s cheesecake.  I didn’t know somethin’ so decadent existed.”

Tony wasn’t particularly a fan of the Irish cream whiskey, but whiskey flavored cheesecake couldn’t be all bad.   Not that he wanted.  He really just wanted to know if it would prompt any different noises from her than the stew had.  If it did, he might be in trouble, but he it was a risk he was willing to take.

He snuffed out his cigarette and offered, “Want a piece?”

She nibbled thoughtfully on her full bottom lip, capturing his attention as she continued to study the little card.  The nibble turned into a pink pucker as she pondered her answer.

Stop staring at her mouth.

“I’m awful, but yes.  I at least wanna taste.”  The dessert card went back between the salt and pepper shakers.  “Do you wanna share a piece with me?”

No way in hell.

Getting tangled up in her culinary erotica was a crap idea.  It was distracting enough to be across the table while she made orgasmic sounds of food-love, but sharing in it?  Monumentally bad idea.

Why?  Because you won’t be able to stop from wondering if she makes that noise when other things are in her mouth?  If you hadn’t turned her down last night, you would know.

He crossed his ankles under the table, squirming a little on the hard bench.  “Nah.”  Tori wandered by and he flagged her down.  “I’m just gonna have another drink.”

Revised posting schedule

Okay, I get it.  You want more posts.  I'll do the best I can to accommodate that.

I'm going to try and post a new chapter every other day (Never on Fridays though.  I hate posting on Friday.).  I put a new one up yesterday and will post again tomorrow.  I will keep up with that schedule as long as I can keep up with the writing.  I'll do my best, but show a little compassion for the moron who decided to write two stories at once?  ;-)

By the way, I haven't mentioned it yet, but I wanted to take a minute and thank you.  There aren't a whole lot of readers to this story, but most of you seem to take the time to comment.  You have no idea how much I LOVE that!  Makes my labor of love all the sweeter.

xoxo
♥blush

11 - Going Pub...lic

The Brazen Head was Ireland’s oldest pub.  It was also boisterous and crowded, but somehow Tony managed to find them a relatively quiet booth on the warmly lit patio.  Sliding into her side of the table, Lilah shrugged out of the leather jacket and fluffed her hair so that it draped over her shoulders.  When she lifted her face, it was to find Tony watching her with a knowing eye, very much as he had this afternoon. 

Mr. Bongiovi was an observant man.  She supposed that came with his tenure behind a camera, because wasn’t that the sole purpose of a camera?  Whether it was video or still shots, the point was to observe and capture life through a lens.

Or change a life.

His photographer’s eyes didn’t miss much, and certainly hadn’t missed her efforts conceal the annoying scars.  Tucking her right hand under her thigh, out of sight,  Lilah used her left to flip open the menu that lay on the table.  “Have you ever been here before?  Do you have any recommendations?”

He locked gazes with her for a long second.  It was enough to convey that her camouflage tactics didn’t escape him, and she held her breath, waiting.  To her great relief, he didn’t pursue it. 

 “First time for me.  I don’t know how many sissy drinks they have to offer,” he warned, readily following her conversational lead and picking up his own menu.  “But the food is supposed to be good.”

 “I don’t drink all that much anyway.  I see they have tea, and that’s fine.”

His attention diverted from the menu to her.  “You have a problem with me getting a drink?”

“Of course not!”

He nodded and both returned to studying the dinner offerings.  It didn’t take her long to make her choice and, by the time the waitress came to take their orders, Lilah had been silently watching him read for several minutes.

Thoughtfully, she sat by as he ordered the beef medallions and a whiskey, winking at the pretty young girl as the order was repeated back to him for confirmation.  As she listened to the effortless banter between Tony and the waitress – Tori – it took no time before she was abundantly aware of three things. 

Number one, the raven-haired Tori was instantly charmed by his smile and friendly voice. 

Number two, the elusive “TBJ” hung around the edges and backstage area of the Bon Jovi camp because he chose to, not because he wasn’t good with people.  The charisma gene had not passed him over, even if he didn’t blatantly take advantage of it the way his brothers did. 

“Lilah?”  Both Tony and the waitress were looking at her expectantly.

“Sorry.  I’ll have the Irish stew, please.”

Number three, although he was outwardly calm and relaxed, energy hummed just below the surface of his skin.   It was something she had noticed well before she ever met him, but here – not just in person, but up close and personal – it was even more pronounced. 

From every indication, it was another trait the two oldest Bongiovi brothers shared, but Jon didn’t handle it the same way.  His eyes and mind were always visibly somewhere else as he fidgeted.  Tony managed to stay in the present even when it appeared he was coiled like a spring and ready to pounce.  He had impressive control.

I wonder what other kind of control he has.

“Mind if I smoke?”

Lilah shook her head and he tucked the white filter between his lips, inhaling deeply at the same time he forced the rasp of the lighter wheel.  The white smoke curled up and away into the night air as she watched his mouth, still pondering the extent of his control.

“Whaddaya  thinkin’ about, Lilah Bennett?”

Feeling like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she jerked her rapt attention away from lips that were now curled with amusement. 

“Nothin’.  Why?”

“Because you’re quiet, you were staring at me and your neck is red.  I thought I didn’t make you nervous anymore?”

Pulling at the front of her shirt, she fanned the collar so that the coolness of the air could get to her heated skin.  It suddenly felt like she was wearing thermal underwear in a smokehouse.

“I’m not a chatty person,” she mumbled.  “Small talk isn’t my strong suit, so I don’t say a lot sometimes.”

“Okay, let’s forget small talk then.  How about you tell me why you’re really here?”

Change the subject, Lilah.  Or avoid the question.

“Because you invited me?”

Another deep drag and he shook his head.  “I’ve already figured out you’re smarter than that.  Playin’ dumb isn’t gonna work.”

If I tell him now, there won’t be a snowball’s chance in Hell of me getting backstage with him.

Eyebrows pulling into a frown, she decided to confront him with her own question.  “How’d you know my last name?  I never told it to ya.”

“I know the guy who runs the fan club trip,” he laughed, tipping up the whiskey that had appeared at his elbow, and swallowing with a satisfied grimace. 

Duh, Lilah Jane.  He probably knows that you ordered Bon Jovi panties back in 2010.

The mere thought had Lilah fanning her shirt more frantically.  Up until five minutes ago, she’d been on the verge of chilly.  Now she thought she was going to roast from the inside out.   She took a healthy swallow of her tea, and then tried to appear unaffected, summoning her drollest tone. 

“So you do.  Find out anything interestin’?”

“Not why you’re here.”

She stifled a sigh and, no longer comfortable meeting his eyes, let her gaze fall to the miniature hurricane lamp at the center of the table. 

“I told you why I was here.”

“You also admitted that what you told me wasn’t the whole story.”

Yes, because, in an effort to compliment his intelligence, she’d been trying to be cute.  How many times had that vain effort gotten her into trouble?  Whatever the count, it was now one higher.

She lifted her chin resolutely, but with beseeching eyes.  “Please don’t make me tell ya right now.  I promise I’m not gonna do anything bad, and I will tell ya.  But can’t it wait until after the next show?”

Bare bulbs swung from electric cables overhead, and her delicately made-up eyes shimmered the color of tropical water in their soft light.  The flame from the hurricane lamp cut across the tropical water like a tiki torch as Tony leaned forward to snuff his cigarette in the ashtray.  He ignored the pang of awareness that the observation stirred.

His gut told him she wasn’t trouble.  Despite Jon’s continual warnings about her, that wasn’t why he was so interested in knowing her reasons – it was simple curiosity. 

Tonight, she was different – different from either last night or this afternoon.  This Lilah fell someplace between the two previous Lilahs and he had a crazy desire to know how many more versions of Lilah there were – and which one was the real Lilah.  Knowing her true motive for a two month European ‘vacation’ would go a long way toward helping him figure that out. 

If he were an ass, he would push, threatening to take away her coveted backstage visit if she didn’t spill her guts.  But Tony just didn’t have it in him to be an ass to her.  She was one of the rare ones who looked into his eyes without noticeably comparing them to anybody else’s.  Who didn’t study his smile, looking for similarities between it and Jon’s.  She just smiled back.

He was pleasantly surprised to realize that, despite whatever she was keeping under wraps, she might have actually come here because of him.

Fucking unreal.

“It can wait.”

There was that transforming smile of hers again.  It was like someone turned a light switch on, the way it made her eyes sparkle from deep within.  Happy Lilah wasn’t pretty, she was damn-near beautiful. 

“Thank you.”  She propped her chin on one fist – the unscarred one.  “So…. I, um, saw online that Jon had his surgery.  I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask about him earlier.  Did everything go okay?”

She didn’t think to ask about him earlier. Even more unreal.

“It did.  Thanks.”

“Is that what you did this afternoon?  Go see him? I suppose his wife is staying with him?”

“Yeah.”

A corner of her mouth kicked into a mini-smirk.  “Code of silence in full-effect, I see.  That’s okay.  I was only tryin’ to be polite.”

Tony met her mini-smirk with a playful grin.  “Mission accomplished, Bluegrass.”

“I thought ya were gonna stop callin’ me that,” she complained, eyes immediately narrowing with displeasure.

“I said I would think about it,” he countered, enjoying the way her vowels flattened out even more when she got agitated.  Even when she tried to slow her words and form them more correctly, the unmistakable drawl was there.  It was cute.

“If you insist upon using that redneck nickname, then I’m callin’ you Jersey.”

 “I’ve been called a helluva lot worse, baby,” he informed her with a careless shrug.  “Are you cold?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? You just shivered.”

“Oh.”  She pushed her arms back into her jacket sleeves, not looking at him.  “Maybe I am, a little.”

Tori arrived with their food and, before she left, he requested another drink.  Thanking her, he turned to find Lilah inhaling the steam from her plate and softly ooh-ing.  He shook his head with a grin as he picked up his fork.

“Smell good?”

“It smells amazing.” 

It tasted amazing, too.  At least that’s what he assumed, shifting uncomfortably on the booth’s bench.  With every mouthful she gave a little sigh, a muffled groan or a contented purr, and the non-stop soundtrack to her dinner sounded a whole lot like after dinner activities in Tony’s head.  On about her third bite of the hearty Irish stew, he had to quit watching her mouth.  The way her lips closed over the fork when she pulled the food into her mouth and moaned softly… It was erotic as hell.

A distraction was in order.

“So what did you do this afternoon?”

The light switch flipped and her culinary bliss faded significantly. 

“I talked to my son.”

“You don’t seem real happy about that.  Something wrong?”

She shook her head and part of her light returned.  “I’m happy about it.  Him?  Not so much.  I check in once a week whether he likes it or not, though.”

“How old is he?”

“Nineteen.  He’ll be starting his second year of college in the fall, but this summer, he’s livin’ with his buddy and they’re doing the starvin’ musician thing.”

“Sounds like a story I’ve heard a time or two,” he observed wryly.  “Are they any good?”

Lilah’s head bobbed slowly and she pushed the rest of her food around on the plate.  “They’re good.  I don’t know that they’re great, but they’re earnin’ a little money playin’ local clubs and havin’ a good time.  That’s what matters.”

“Being from Kentucky, dare I ask if it’s country music?”

“Oh God, no!” was her vehement denial. “I’d die!  My kid leans more toward metal and hard rock, but playin’ it is a little taxin’ so they do acoustic stuff – contemporary alternative.”

Tony pushed his plate away, wondering if there was a husband to go along with this son.  She didn’t wear a ring, but in today’s society that didn’t mean a thing. 

What difference does it make?  You’re having dinner, not sex.

His well-founded rationale didn’t stop him from asking, “What about your husband?”

Lilah’s eyes instantly flicked to the scarred hand that held her fork, and the corners of her mouth tightened.  Her voice was kept oh-so-casual as she stabbed fiercely at a potato and asked, “Which one?”

The one whose face you saw when you obliterated that potato.  The one who caused those scars.

10 - Uphill Battle

“So you’re going out with him?”  Joanna wasn’t nearly as excited about the prospect as Lilah was. 

She hated displeasing her friend, but fought through the knot of dread in her stomach to say, “Yes.”

“This is why you really went, isn’t it?  That whole stupid backstage video thing was just a lame excuse.  I knew it!”

Lilah swallowed the lump in her throat and forced herself to say, “No, this isn’t why I came.”  Not really. “I ran into him in the hotel lobby, we spent the afternoon together and he invited me to dinner.  An impersonal dinner.”

It would be impersonal.  At the very most, it would be friendly.  That one reassuring pat on the leg was the only thing that could be construed as more than that.  True, they had a great afternoon.  Once she realized that he appreciated her sense of humor, she  took it out at every available turn.   She loved making him smile it had become almost an obsession to see that near-perfect grin cut across his face.

“You want to fuck him.  If it’s that important to you, I don’t know why you couldn’t fuck somebody here.  For all the money you’ve wasted so far, you should be fucking  Richie.  At least he could be your sugar daddy.”

Jo could be mean when her feelings got hurt, and it didn’t matter that Lilah knew that.  The words were still painful and they made her defensive.

“Everything doesn’t come down to fucking and sugar daddies!”

“What does it come down to Lilah?  You’ve been hiding something from me ever since you first decided to go.  Why are you there?  Why the hell is Jon Bon Jovi’s brother so fascinating?”

“His name is Anthony.  Or Tony.” 

That burned her ass more than anything.  Tony Bongiovi was a successful man in his own right, and he was damn well more than Jon Bon Jovi’s brother.  The fact that everyone referred to him that way is part of what had made her not like Jon.  Completely irrational, she knew.  It wasn’t as though it were his fault that his career had fed Tony’s. 

“I know his name.  What I don’t know is why he’s so freakin’ special!”

Neither do I, but he is.

Lilah took a silent breath, trying to de-agitate herself, then explained patiently for the hundredth time,  “I came over here hoping for a chance to watch him work.  He’s a nice guy and invited me to join him for a motorcycle ride and dinner.  I’m all by myself over here for the next week and appreciate the company.  So sue me.”

“That’s crap, Lilah, and you know it.”

“No it’s not!”  She scrunched up her face in utter frustration and shook her head, mad that she’d let herself be prodded into anger.  Dammit, Jo could be so hard-headed sometimes.  Lilah felt like she was beating her head into a wall, and it just wasn’t worth it. There was no way she could go and be happy while Joanna was mad at her.  It was easier to just buckle under.

“If it bothers you that much, I won’t go out with him.  It’s not that big of a deal,” she relented on a defeated sigh.

“No.  Go.”  Jo was pouting now, too.  

Reverse psychology sucked. Even though they were the words Lilah wanted to hear, there was no sincerity behind them.  All the 'encouragement' did was make her feel damned if she did, damned if she didn't.  It sure as hell wasn't making her feel any better, and the rest of Jo's little speech made her feel even worse.

“I don’t want you coming back here thinking you’ve missed out on something and trying to blame me for it. Screw his brains out if that will make you feel better.  Then come home, stop being irresponsible and grow up.”

Her blood pressure shot through the roof and Lilah ground her back teeth together to keep from screaming.  After counting to ten, she was able to say, somewhat calmly, “Jo, I’m gonna hang up now.  I need to check in with Andrew.  Don’t be mad at me.”

“How can I not be mad knowing that you’re hiding something from me?”

You would be even madder if you knew what I was hiding.

“Listen.  I love you.  I’ll talk to you in a couple of days, okay?”

“Whatever.  If it's not too much of a burden.”

Lilah disconnected the call and tossed the phone on her hotel bed, falling back into the pillows with a smothered scream of frustration.  Why did she feel so judged for everything?  Why was it irresponsible to do what she wanted to do?  

You’re in friggin’ Europe.  Don’t you dare throw away the chance you’ve been literally longing for!

Afterward, there would be another upsetting conversation with Joanna.  She hated those conversations with a passion and would do almost anything to avoid having one.  It really would be easier not to go...

✧ ✧ ✧

Tony leaned into the lobby chair, draping one arm over its back and crossed his legs.  Another glance at his watch confirmed that she was five minutes late.

When they had arrived back at the hotel, he suggested a casual dinner at a nearby pub and she agreed willingly enough.  Tony hadn’t been ready to give her his cell phone or room number – she was still a virtual stranger who supposedly followed him to Europe – so, before he went back to the hospital to check on Jon, they made plans to meet in the hotel lobby at eight.

It was now seven after eight.

She had no reason to stand him up, that he knew of.  Then again, what did he really know about her?  Moving on to other possible reasons for her tardiness, Tony had a passing concern that something was wrong.  That maybe she was sick or something.

Crossing his arms over the tan button-down shirt, he told himself to be patient.  Women were always late.  It was one of the relationship things he didn’t miss at all.  If she didn’t show in another ten minutes he would have the front desk ring her room.

To keep from dwelling on the time, he dwelled on Jon.  Tony didn’t often see his brother in such excruciating pain.  Even if he was hurt, Jon didn’t allow anyone to see him suffer.  He sucked it up and went on.

The ‘simple’ surgery had gone well, but Jon’s knee was hurting like a bitch.  They were already putting him through mobility exercises that would get him back where he needed to be, and it was a strain.  He hated to take the painkillers, so he was trudging through, cussing through gritted teeth while Dorothea coaxed him into thinking about something else. 

Much to Tony’s chagrin, that something else turned out to be Lilah. 

“Jon said you have a woman chasing you.  What was her name again, Jon?”  Dot engaged her husband’s mind away from his iced knee.

Not far enough away, because he still looked both pained and pissed when he gritted out, “Lilah.”

“Lilah.  What does she want with you?”

His sister-in-law had been there for him, along with the rest of the family, during the break-up of his marriage.  The difference between Dot and the rest of the family was that she hadn’t been afraid to have words with his ex over what she perceived as ‘unacceptable behavior’.  Since then, she’d become a bit protective of Tony when it came to women, regarding anyone he dated with a healthy dose of skepticism – and attitude.

Knowing that, Tony just grinned and dropped a casual arm around Dot’s shoulder.  “To have her wicked way with me, what else?  It’s the Bongiovi curse.”

“Smartass,” she half-heartedly complained, shrugging off his arm.  “What does she want?”

He leaned against the wide windowsill of the hospital room and folded his arms with a shrug.  “I haven’t really figured it out yet.”

“She wants backstage at my fucking show,” a cranky Jon interjected, causing Dot to raise a distrustful eyebrow.   Her eyes flicked from one brother to the other as though they may have become victims of mad cow disease.

“And you’re going to let her?”

Tony lifted his hands in self-defense.  “It’s above my pay grade.  Jon told me to let her.”

“She cornered me at the damn Q&A yesterday.  All I said was that Tony was in charge of who was backstage for video.”

“And you told me I had to let her back there so you didn’t look like a douche.”

“Enough, boys.”  Dot planted her hands on her hips, shaking her head with disbelief and speaking directly to her husband.  “I never thought I would see the day somebody back you into a corner.  Especially a pushy woman.”

Lilah was getting painted in a bad light here, and Dot's bad side was not a good place to be.  Tony felt obligated to blandly protest, “She’s not really that pushy.”

Dorothea’s chastising look slid from one brother to the other.  “You’ve already met her?”

“Yeah.”  Keeping that to himself wasn’t an option.  He could keep the details sparse, though.  “I’m actually having dinner with her tonight.”

“What?” his brother and sister-in-law chorused in unison.  Dot took it a step further with, “Are you sure that’s smart?  God only knows what she’s after.  She’s probably some anti-Bon Jovi fruitcake set to destroy the band from the inside.”

It was Tony’s turn to give her a chastising look.  “What the fuck?  Are you taking Jon’s pain meds?”

“Stranger things have happened with crazed fans, and you know it.  What do you even know about her?”

He allowed his chin to hit his chest with a deep sigh, knowing his gut wasn’t wrong about Lilah.  She might be a little unconventional, but she wasn’t some rock band terrorist, for God’s sake. 

Tony turned his head to the side, peering at Dot through one squinted eye.  “I know that she’s shy and ballsy.  She’s smart and has a wicked sense of humor.  I also know that if she’s coming backstage I need to know more than that, so I spent some time with her this afternoon and invited her to dinner.  That’s what I know.”

“Whoa.  You didn’t say anything about this afternoon.”  Dorothea’s head popped up as her back went rigid.  "She went with you to that tree tunnel?”

You stuck your foot in your mouth that time.

“Yeah, I took her with me.”

“Did you take a picture of her?  I want to see what she looks like.”

When he first arrived at the hospital this afternoon, Tony had been eager to share the photos on his camera.   He had mentioned his enchanted forest enough times over the past couple of years, that it was nice to be able to finally offer them a visual.  When Dorothea made the appropriate sounds of awe, he was glad he'd done so.

Only now he wondered just how smart that had been.  The family all knew how obsessive he was about photographing the people and places around him, so it was only logical that he had a photo of Lilah tucked away on the camera's memory card.

Ignore the question.  This will get all blown out of whack if you give Dorothea half a chance.  Just don’t answer her.   

Deciding that it was the best plan he could come up with at the moment, he strolled over to his sister-in-law and bent to plop a kiss over her cheek.  “Dot, I love the whole mama bear thing you’ve got going on, but you’re not my mama bear.  And don’t think about dragging Mom into this,” he hurriedly tacked on.  “Lilah Bennett is harmless.  I’m going to have dinner with her…”  Tony gave his brother a tepid glare, since this was his ‘fault’.  “…let her sit at my desk for a show, and that’s it.”

“Just remember what I said,” Jon warned, forehead furrowed with discomfort.  “You better keep a tight leash on her.  Something happens back there and yours is the ass I’m holding accountable.”

There was no doubt in his mind that Jon meant it. 

A light hand coming to rest on his shoulder drew Tony from his thoughts, and he looked up into Lilah’s contrite face.  “I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” she apologized, walking around the side of his chair.  “I hate being late.  I was on my way out the door when I got something in my eye and had to pull my contacts out and mess with them.”

Her bloodshot left eye easily confirmed her story, and he relaxed, letting go of any lingering tension when he rose to his feet. 

“I thought you were going to stand me up,” he told her dryly, only half joking.

Shiny hair whispered over the shoulders of her leather jacket as Lilah shook her head in denial,  and Tony’s eyes quickly raked over her from head to toe. 

Under the jacket was a black t-shirt with some of those sparkly things on it.  Not diamonds, but the things that looked like them.  Rhinestones?  The rest of her outfit wasn’t nearly that fancy.  Jeans, low-heeled boots and a coat of makeup had her perfectly prepared for casual evening out.

Tony admitted to himself that she looked good.  Too damn good for his comfort, if he were being honest. 

You may say you aren't here to cause me trouble, but you're gonna do it anyway, aren't you?

Next post:  Sunday, October 28

9 - The Enchanted Forest

An enchanted forest was quite possibly the last thing Lilah had ever expected to come from Tony Bongiovi’s mouth.  A mental asylum?  Sure, she would buy that he was trying to cart her off and have her committed.   A leprechaun barber for a quick shave?  It was Ireland, so it wasn’t that far off the reality chart.

But an enchanted forest?  You could have knocked her over with a feather.

The helmets and cool air rushing noisily around them prevented her from asking for further details, much to her frustration.  It didn’t, however, stop her mind from working overtime.  Clearly, they were going into the woods someplace – dark, deserted woods where one could easily disappear, get lost, or be left intentionally behind.

You haven’t been that big of a pain in his butt.  He’s not going to abandon you in the middle of Ireland.

Maybe not, but she didn’t really know him either.  No matter how much she’d researched him, how many ‘signs’ there were, or what connection she felt to him – the bottom line was that he was a virtual stranger.

In the ensuing twenty minutes, she made sure to take excellent note of her surroundings.  She diligently memorized each and every cottage, signpost and any other significant landmark within eyesight of the road.   If he did leave her, she would at least have some idea of how to get back.

The motorcycle slowed and took a right turn, making Lilah cling to Tony with both her hands and knees.  Once he straightened the wheel, he reached down to pat her leg.

A man who goes out of his way to comfort your riding nerves isn’t going to ditch you someplace.  Dipstick.

The bike glided to the side of the road, and Tony put it up on its kickstand.  Drawing off his helmet, he dismounted the Harley and offered her a hand.

“We’re here?” she asked after removing her own helmet.

It didn’t look like much of an enchanted forest from where she was sitting.  It was a small meadow about the size of a football field, and on the other side was a cluster of trees.

“I think so.  It’s been years since I’ve been here.”

She tentatively accepted his assistance in getting her feet on the ground, pleased to note that she didn’t have any trouble standing this time.  Lilah tugged at the hem of her sweatshirt, where it had ridden up on her back a bit, and trying to talk herself out of saying something stupid.

Tony extracted his camera from the bike’s built-in saddle bag, slipping the strap over his shoulder and turning to her.  “Ready?”

“Uh.  Can I ask you a question first?”  Her self-talk was unsuccessful.  Something very stupid was about to come tripping out of her mouth.

He had exchanged his sunglasses for regular glasses, so she could clearly identify the wariness in his eyes when he cocked his left eyebrow.  “Yeah.”

In the interest of fairness, she removed her own sunglasses and hooked them into the neckline of her sweatshirt.  Lilah squinted one eye against the early afternoon sunlight and asked, “You’re not going to dump me in the woods and take off are you?”

The chortle of laughter resonated through the meadow before he teased with a wicked grin, “Little late to be worrying about that now, don’t ya think?”

“Probably.  Better late than never, though.”

That had him laughing again.  “I may be an asshole sometimes, but I’m not that bad.  You’re not getting dumped anywhere.  C’mon.”  As he had at the hotel, he put a hand in between her shoulder blades and guided her – this time toward the cluster of trees. 

“Just for the record, this doesn’t exactly look like an enchanted forest.”

“Funny, I never pegged you for a pessimist.  I figured you’d be one of those optimistic Pollyanna types looking at the world through rose-colored glasses.”

“Hardly,” Lila scoffed as they stepped into the shadows of the first trees.  “I’m a weird combination of gullible and cynical.  Guess that makes me a realist.”

“Yeah, well, Ms. Realist, get ready to eat your cynicism.”

They stepped deeper into the shadows onto a wide dirt path and there, in front of them, was something straight out of a fairytale.

“Ho-ly …”

Tony grinned at her breathless captivation over his ‘enchanted forest’.  Popping off his camera lens, he impulsively decided to capture her reaction on film. 

The shutter clicked away as she slowly twirled on the beaten-down walkway that was a broad dirt ribbon through the huge tunnel of gnarly, fantastical trees.  On each side of the path, twisted tree trunks stood only feet apart in rows straight as soldiers.  Their branches, however, lacked any such orderliness.  Over the years, the leafless limbs had knit together in an intricate wooden cobweb, strongly resembling hand-crafted lattice work.  It gave the illusion that the whole thing was one giant woodland pavilion.

Lilah’s head was tipped all the way back to take in the fine pinpoints of light that snuck in between the hopelessly tangled boughs.  The way they danced over her like a shower of sun drops, randomly dispelling the shadows, would make for some good shots.

He continued to snap frame after frame, even when she dropped her chin and turned on him with a radiant smile.

Damn, she’s pretty when she smiles.

“Do you have wine recommendations for eating cynicism?  Because this is out of a freakin’ fairytale.  I can so totally see Hansel and Gretel skippin’ along here.  Or Red Ridin' Hood.  There’s a trashy Big Bad Wolf reference lurkin' around in there somewhere, but I’ll just leave it alone.”

It was the most natural acting Lilah he had encountered so far.  He knew five minutes after meeting her that she was quiet and shy, yet with enough guts to do what she wanted to.  This unguarded Lilah was someone new and, for the first time, he found that he was more than curious about her.  He kind of liked her. 

“Nah, I’m not a big wine guy.  Good cold beer goes with about anything though.”

“I’m screwed then,” she laughed.  “I’m a foofy girl when it comes to drinkin’.  Fruity cocktails with little umbrellas are about the only things I drink and, outside of booze, it’s iced tea all the way.”

He would try not to hold that against her. 

Lowering the camera, he gestured toward the center of the well-worn path.  “Go stand in the middle of the tunnel.  I’ll take a souvenir picture for you.”

Her face crumpled into an unhappy frown and her ponytail swung and she shook her head in denial.  “That’s okay.  I don’t really like having my picture taken.”

“Too late, Bluegrass.  I’ve already got about fifty of you.”

“Okay, could you not call me Bluegrass?  And I wasn’t looking at your camera lens when you were taking them, so I can pretend those don’t exist.”

Biting the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling, he looked at her innocently.  “What do you want me to call you, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  Lilah?”

“Back up and pose for one,” he ordered, directing her again with his chin and knowing without a doubt that she was going to refuse.  “Then I’ll consider it.”

The unpredictable Lilah surprised him yet again by doing as he asked and putting herself in the absolute center of the archway.   Then she lifted her hands to cover her face, completely shattering the brief illusion of obedience. 

“On one condition,” she bargained from behind splayed hands. 

“Don’t you think you’ve negotiated enough deals with me?”

Tony had purposefully made his voice rough to see if he could bully her into submission.  Was she going to turn out to be a steel magnolia or a shrinking violet?

“I’m starting to get the hang of it, don’t you think?”

Steel magnolia it is.

“Just let me take the goddamn picture.”

The top half of her head popped out from behind her hands.  “Jeez.  Impatient much?  I just wanted to take a picture of you, too.”

He actually wasn’t feeling the least bit impatient.  The unexpected banter with her was pretty entertaining.  Having her backstage for a show might not be so bad after all.  However, she was going to have to get over this fascination of taking his picture.

“I stay behind the camera, not in front.”

“Just let me take the goddamn picture,” she mocked his words and drew an unwilling laugh from deep in his throat.  Her comebacks were quick and well-placed.  This girl was sharp enough to hold her own if he chose to unleash his natural sarcasm on her.  It was another point in her favor.

“Fine.  Now move your damn hands.”

“Not yet!”  She spun away from him, busily scrambling to untie the ponytail fastened at her nape.  Once the hair was freed, she fluffed it around her shoulders in a soft fall.  A quick pat on her neck assured that it was draped to her satisfaction, and she slipped both hands behind her back, finally giving him her face.  With a deep breath, she declared, “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

The significance of her primping wasn’t lost on him.  Something told Tony that messing with her hair wasn’t about her hair, but about her scars.  Now that she’d done her thing, they were no longer visible. 

“When did it happen?”  The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“A lifetime ago.”

Feeling slightly embarrassed about his tactlessness, he let it go at that.  Tony pushed his glasses onto the top his head and peered through the viewfinder.  “Smile.”

She accommodated him for about three shots, and then Lilah was done.  She strode toward him hands outstretched.  “Gimme.”

Putting the camera up in the air, he kept it from her grasp with a gruff, “Hold on.  You don’t just go grabbin’ a man’s equipment.  I’m particular about who handles my stuff.”

That froze her in her tracks for about half a second before she popped off with, “If I were a gutter girl, I would be all over that, Mr. Bongiovi.  Lucky for you, I’m a lady.  Please note that’s twice I’ve taken the high road since we’ve been here.  Now cough up the camera.”

“What the hell happened to the woman who was shaking like a Chihuahua last night, afraid to talk to me?”

Her shoulders lifted indifferently, clearly unconcerned about his put-on belligerence.  “She found out that you were exactly the man she thought you were.  If you’re not body dumping me, what do I have to be nervous about?”  She extended a flattened, upturned palm.  “Camera, please.”

I didn’t think she had it in her to be so friggin’ feisty.

“Do you know how to work one of these things?”

“Just show me which button to push and I’ll manage.”

Sighing, he reseated the glasses on his nose and went through the basics of the camera with an impatient Lilah.  

“I won’t drop it and I’m not going to do anything but point and click.  Relax,” she admonished the corners of her mouth curving up prettily.  “Now go.”

Grumbling quietly, he nonetheless turned to take up the same spot in the center of the tunnel

“So how did you find this place?”

She thought she was being sneaky by snapping a dozen pictures while encouraging him to talk, but Tony wasn’t stupid.  He’d used the same tactic too many times. 

“I stumbled onto it with some friends a few years ago.  We were out riding on an off day and had to take a leak.”

“Enchanted porta-potty.  Nice,” she giggled from behind the lens and forcing his own chuckle.

God, she’s funny. 

He didn’t know if he’d ever met someone who reacted to things the way she did.  The quirky way her mind worked and the crazy things she effortlessly spewed were amusing.

“This is the first chance I’ve had to get back here with a camera.”  He crossed his arms over his chest and looked directly into the lens without smiling.

“Nice macho pose.  Now smile.”

“No.”  What compelled him to argue with her, he couldn’t say.  Maybe he just wanted to see what outlandish thing she would come up with next.

Her face poked up over the camera with a look of astonishment.  “Seriously?  A gorgeous smile like that and you’re not going to show it off in a photo?  Come on…”

Shifting his feet, he felt unaccountably fidgety.  He’d gotten lots of compliments on the ‘Bongiovi smile’, but her matter-of-fact statement felt different.  Lilah wasn’t trying to schmooze him with it; she was just calling it like she saw it, which was also at odds with last night.  Out here alone in the woods would be the perfect place to offer up an improper proposition, especially after the way her body had been wrapped around his on the Harley.  Yet she was being nothing other than friendly. 

She’s jacking with your head.  Stop trying to figure her out. Take her at face value and go.

“Please?  Just one smile…”

But he couldn’t.  She had wormed her way into his brain and was stuck there until he could figure out what to do with her.  What the hell made her tick?  What was she really after?  It didn’t seem to be sex, and who came all the way to Europe to look at a bunch of video monitors?  Then there was also that crack about him making ‘an impact’ on her life.  What was that all about?

No, there was something else going on and it was bugging the shit out of him.  Unfortunately, he could only think of one thing that was going to help him decipher Lilah Bennett’s ulterior motives.

“One smile, on one condition,” he bartered impulsively.

She tipped her head to the side in cautious curiosity.  “What's the condition?” 

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

Next post:  Wednesday, October 24