Weathering Jack Storm (Silver Strings G Series) by Lisa Gillis Page A

helplessly on the top of his dark head. Brushing his lips against her, he whispered, “If you get nervous, just think of this.”
    Thinking of this was sure to get her flustered, but she wasn’t going to argue the point. Unlike the shower at her house, the water in this one never turned cold. With the warmth continuing to wash over her, along with physical heat waves, she leaned against him after collapsing on his lap.
    His lap that she was quickly becoming aware of... Finally, able to think, she moved her lips against his neck and her hand down offering, “Let me–”
    When her fingers closed around him, he groaned and carefully eased off the tiled seat from under her to stand before her. “All yours,” and almost before his whisper was done, he was done.
    Her limbs were like Jell-O as they stepped out of the tiled stall. Ignoring the towel on the hook, he passed over another. Touching her face to it, she raised her eyes in a surprised query.
    “What?” His smile was sweet, enjoying the aftermath between them.
    “How is it so warm?”
    “Hmm? Oh the towel? Heated towel rack. It comes on when the shower does.”
    “What if you’re already hot?” She followed him into the bedroom.
    “Too bad I guess.” His smirk did all the usual things to her insides, and warmed her heart as much as the sweet smile that had preceded it.
    Jack plucked an iPad from his side table and fell face down on the bed careful to keep his distance from her dress. Raising his head just enough and just long enough to see, he pressed at the buttons. Music pounded at a subdued decibel from an iPod tower in the corner of the room.
    Wrapped in her warm towel she paused mesmerized. All mass and muscles; had she ever seen a body so beautiful? Her gaze lingered on the well-blended tan line at his waist remembering how defined it had been that day in the tour bus, and she wondered what went on in that pool outside that caused the line to blur.
    Shaking those thoughts because it was the last thing she wanted to envision after spending a day with Randi, she moved toward the room that he called his closet.
    “I’m going to borrow something of yours. For my date with Thomas.”
    “Watch it Mariss!” The joke rebounded quickly, but it was faint as if he were drifting into a doze.

     

CHAPTER 13
    THE STYLIST WAS JUST FINISHING Randi when Marissa returned to the first floor. “Oh, Mariss, perfect timing!” Randi’s hair actually bounced as she spoke, and her face was expertly made up in an elegant look of flawless perfection.
    Randi introduced Thomas, and Marissa tried to ignore the stylist’s blatant stare as he appraised the work cut out for him.
    Interested, she examined the portable set up station. A tall canvas director type chair, similar to the ones in Jack’s music room, awaited her. His cosmetics and hair accessories were at his fingertips in some type of upright combo carrier with flip out trays, and holsters of curling irons, blow driers, and straitening irons.
    “You look pretty.” Tristan was still in his place at the table with a paper plate of pizza crusts before him and his guitar in his hand. Shyly, he spoke while avidly watching Randi who was primping in a large mirror perched like an easel on a tripod.
    “Thank you sweetie pie!” Randi beamed the young boy a runway smile.
    Dax, who had never been far from Tristan all day, looked up from his phone, and although he said nothing, his eyes shared Tristan’s observation.
    Halfway hesitant at putting her appearance in the hands of someone else, and halfway hoping he could turn her out even half as good as Randi, Marissa took the seat. Seconds later, she was blinking in the portable light and marveling that such a setup could be carted around at whim.
    Jack’s Aunt Candi and her husband arrived while Marissa was still being groomed. Thomas stepped back while the striking woman introduced herself as Candace and then introduced her tall and tanned husband, Marc. Neither batted an