No Place Like You Read online

  “So,” she said. “Faith said you’re planning on being here for a while.”

  His face tightened. “She told you, right? About Ryder?” His shoulders tightened. She tried not to look at them. He wasn’t taller than when he left—and definitely not since the last time she’d actually seen him—but he was broader now. Stronger.

  All traces of the lanky teenager of her memories gone. Leaving only a man.

  A distractingly good-looking man.

  Don’t think about that.

  “She may have mentioned something.” She held up a hand as his brows drew together. “The news is going to be out soon enough, Zach. You can’t keep something like that secret for long. Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve managed it for this long. It’s what … two weeks since your tour ended? Long enough for your management to be spinning bullshit about you all being out of town on vacation or something, but if you guys had anything lined up over the summer, they’re going to have to start canceling soon. Then it will be all over the place. Have you got your stories straight?”

  He grimaced. “I’m still not sure what the damn story is. Fucking Ryder.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Which only drew her attention to the tanned muscle of his arms and wrists.

  Dammit. Guitarists had good arms. His were no exception. In fact, they were a pretty damn good example of that particular piece of male anatomy. Maybe even a perfect one. The guitar tatts on his right forearm only highlighted the delicious lines of muscle. And the edges of a tattoo she hadn’t seen before poked beneath the edge of the left arm of his T-shirt, making her fingers itch to push the soft white cotton up and see what he’d marked his skin with. And then she could—no.

  Mind on the job.

  Shoving thoughts of other things musicians were good at out of her mind, she made what she hoped was a sympathetic face. It wasn’t that she was pleased that Zach’s band was imploding around his ears, but the part of her that was Faith’s best friend had to admit to a tiny bit of satisfaction that karma was coming around. Zach had bailed on Faith when they’d tried to get a career off the ground. They’d been struggling and then their dad had gotten sick. They’d taken a break to figure out their next steps, and Zach had been offered a temporary gig filling in for Fringe Dweller’s guitarist. Temporary had turned to permanent, leaving Faith stranded, dealing with the brunt of Grey’s illness, and stepping up to gradually take over running the business side of the Harper Inc. empire as he faded. Not to mention looking after Mina, who’d still been a teenager when Grey had first been diagnosed with liver cancer. And who’d then decided to marry her high school sweetheart at eighteen. Only to lose him in a car accident three years later.

  Through all of it, Faith had stood, stayed. Been here. Zach, on the other hand, had run. That was his choice. And hey, maybe in his shoes she might have done the same. But maybe now he was going to have to make some different ones.

  “Did Ryder say anything about what brought this on?” she asked.

  “He’s not using. If that’s what you’re asking. Not as far as I know,” Zach said. “None of us are into that shit.” He hitched a shoulder, mouth grim as he stared down at the guitar. Which had been owned by a man who hadn’t exactly had “Just say no” as his life’s motto. Not until it was too late.

  Then he looked back up. “So no, Ry hasn’t really offered an explanation. There was a girl about a year ago that he was mooning over and she split, but if that’s what brought this on, then it’s one hell of a delayed reaction.”

  His voice had turned frustrated. And she was here to ask him to take a big chance on her. So perhaps steering the conversation back into safer waters might be a smart idea. “Well, I think you’re doing a smart thing. Coming back here, I mean. Get some songs together. See what happens.”

  “Faith told you that part too, huh?” He looked amused.

  “Dude, of course she told me. She can’t vent about you to Mina, she’s trying to be fair.”

  “I don’t see why she needs to vent about me wanting to record here.”

  “Did I say ‘vent’? Maybe that’s too strong a word. Bounce stuff off of, maybe. Mina’s not the best outlet for that when it comes to you. For one thing, Mina doesn’t give a crap about the music industry. I do.”

  “Yeah, the studio seems to be doing great,” he said.

  She tried not to beam with pleasure. “Didn’t think you paid much attention to the figures.” She’d been working her butt off the last four years, hustling to keep the studio going as her dad had stepped back to retire. Sal Santelli’s legendary skills at the board had been a big draw for artists interested in recording on Lansing. She’d been determined to show the world that nothing would change when he left. She thought she’d managed it in the end, but it had been a long hard slog to convince people that she could do the job just as well as Sal.

  “I’m not stupid, Leah,” he said. “I might not have the hard-on for the detail that Faith does, but I read the reports.”

  * * *

  O-kay. She didn’t want to think about Zach and hard-ons. In any context. “Oh. Good,” she managed as she struggled to wipe the sudden memory of Zach naked that flashed before her eyes. “That’s good.” Gah. Now she sounded like a moron. To cover herself, she walked over to the French doors that overlooked the cliffs. Maybe if she opened them, the sea air would clear her head. Clear that damn scent of him out of her lungs. But then she remembered the pile of papers by the guitar. Sending a bunch of his stuff blowing around the room wasn’t going to impress him.

  She turned back. “So, you’re here. And you’re going to write. Then record some new material?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  There was no good way to ask. Better just to get it over with. “Who are you working with?”

  “As a band?”

  “No.” She shook her head, feeling kind of sick and hoping it didn’t show. “Who’s producing?”

  He spread his hands. “That’s not set in stone yet. I have a few people in mind. Why? Did you want the job?” He grinned at her, clearly finding the idea amusing.

  She stuck out her chin. “Why is that funny?”

  Those salt-water eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

  “Why shouldn’t I be? I’m a sound engineer. A very very good one. You know who trained me. You know my experience. And I’m producing now too. And no one knows our studios better than I do.” She bit her lip, not wanting to say more. Like “No one knows you like I do.” Once upon a time that might have been true. She’d grown up with Zach, used to know the ins and outs of his life like she knew her own, but that wasn’t true any more. The man was a stranger. But maybe the guy she’d known before was still buried in there somewhere.

  Zach’s arms folded. “Leah, I—”

  “Do you want me to send you a resume?” she said. “I can. I’m good, Zach. We’d be good together, I know it.” Damn. That last part came out wrong. Because his expression turned wary.

  “I’m not even ready to record,” he said.

  “But you’re looking for a producer. You need that sorted out. So, I’m here. I’m available. I’m good. And I’m asking.”

  He shook his head. “Like I said, I have feelers out. I’m not making any decisions yet.”

  “Does that mean you’ll consider me when you do?”

  No answer. And his face changed to the patented Harper politely-neutral-and-giving-nothing-away expression that all three siblings had learned from their dad.

  Which meant that the answer was really “no.”

  “You want to tell me why not?”

  He didn’t move. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Why not? Because I don’t have enough experience? You need something new. Something different if you’re looking to make a splash.”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Then what?” Realization dawned. “Oh God, please don’t say it’s because we slept together once upon a time?”

  “Leah—”
<
br />   She held up a hand. “No. Because that’s crazy. It was one night. It was a long time ago, and I don’t know about you, Zach, but I haven’t spent the last ten years pining over it. I moved on. Hopefully you have too. So that has nothing to do with this conversation.”

  “I’m sorry, but no,” Zach said.

  She stared at him. He looked determined. Stubborn. Just like his sister. Which meant that “no” really meant “no.” At least, for now. And that if she didn’t want to end up doing something entirely unprofessional, like punching him for being so goddamn shortsighted, she’d better leave.

  “You’re making a mistake,” she told him and headed for the door.

  chapter four

  Zach stared at the screen door, still vibrating after Leah had slammed it.

  Leah Santelli asking to work with him.

  He hadn’t expected that.

  Hadn’t expected her, which was dumb because she worked on the Harper estate, and where Faith was, Leah and Ivy Morito—the other member of the trio of trouble as he and Eli had called them back in the day—were rarely far behind. Presumably they weren’t still quite as in each other’s pockets as they had been as teenagers, but it was still a small island.

  Leah Santelli.

  Dammit.

  He should have handled that better.

  But when it came to Leah, he’d always had a way of sticking his foot in his mouth.

  And she’d blindsided him with that producing question. Of all the things that might have brought Leah back to his doorstep, he hadn’t imagined that particular scenario.

  Still, he’d delivered his “no” in a manner that had distinctly lacked chill.

  And now she was pissed.

  Big green eyes ready to spark, hands on hips. Leah wasn’t tall—maybe five foot five if she was lucky—but what she lacked in size she made up for in attitude. Or temper, perhaps.

  He should have thought before he’d answered, let her down more gently. Because now Leah was mad at him, and that was going to make Faith mad at him all over again.

  Well done. Back home for just a couple of days, and he was already screwing up.

  He seemed to have developed a talent for that over the last few years.

  Or he’d inherited it from Grey and it was just now making itself known.

  Leah Santelli.

  Some might say she was one of his first big screw-ups. He never should have slept with her all those years ago. Not when he was leaving and he knew she had a crush on him. But she’d been gorgeous—not quite as gorgeous as she was now—and she’d asked. And he’d been young and stupid. Now, apparently, he was older and still stupid.

  He thought again of those big eyes flashing at him and the curving fullness of her mouth when she’d said hello. She’d been beautiful at eighteen but so very young. Though pretty damn persuasive. He’d seen her in the intervening years, of course. Not much in the last few years. She’d always been perfectly polite and friendly to him. Of course, this was the first time he’d seen her since she’d gotten her divorce. Maybe that was the difference.

  Current-day Leah wasn’t just gorgeous, she was fierce. She knew what she wanted. She had gone after it. No beating around the bush. No game-playing or flattering or sucking-up, the way most people in the music industry seemed to go about trying to get something from him. Leah had just laid out her offer. Just like she had at eighteen. It was undeniably hot—which was all kinds of wrong because she’d been pitching him professionally, not personally. And now she was pissed off at him. Had she marched straight over to Faith’s place to tell her about him being a dick? He winced. He hoped not. Because that was likely to bring Faith marching right back here to read him the riot act.

  He didn’t think he wanted to be yelled at twice in one night. So maybe it was time to beat a strategic retreat. The watch on his wrist told him it was closing in on dinnertime anyway. And he hadn’t yet made the effort to stock his fridge. He reached for his phone. Eli. Eli wouldn’t mind if Zach invited himself for dinner.

  * * *

  “Bring forth the beef,” Billy bellowed from out on the deck.

  Eli shook his head in mock-exasperation. “Give the dude a grill and he thinks he’s suddenly a five-star chef.” He picked up the platter of steaks that lay on the counter in Billy’s kitchen. “Hope you like yours well done. Dad’s grill skills seem to lack a certain finesse.”

  “That’s because Shane always used to work the grill at Blacklight parties,” Zach said. “And if Billy is anything like Grey, then he doesn’t do much grilling on his own.”

  “No,” Eli agreed. “Plenty of ordering of takeout though. Good at finding the best barbecue in any given town, but I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten a meal that Dad cooked from scratch.”

  “How long is Nina going to leave him unsupervised?” Zach asked. He’d come to Eli’s seeking dinner and a place where Faith couldn’t find him if she tried to yell at him about Leah. It was, as usual, a little chaotic. The place looked like five people were living there with shit strewn all over the place. And Eli seemed to be cooking for five, judging by the amount of food and the size of the steaks.

  Eli shrugged. “Mom will be out every other weekend, I guess. She’s got a couple of big cases running at the moment, she’s probably glad not to have him underfoot.”

  Billy’s wife, Nina, had decided in her mid-forties that she was tired of just following her husband around the world and raising kids, and had gone back to college, followed by law school. These days she was a very successful lawyer. Zach had never been sure how their marriage survived being split into two very different worlds and very different schedules, but they made it work. Billy said he kept asking Nina when she was going to retire. Her answer was that she’d started late so she still had years to make up for.

  “At least he’s only attempting the steaks,” Zach pointed out. He looked at the rows of bowls holding potato salad, green salad, pasta salad, and something made from one of those hippie grains he could never remember the name of lined up on trays ready to be taken out to the deck. He was pretty sure they’d all come from one of the delis in town. Fine by him. As a tourist town, Cloud Bay did food well. When he’d been a kid it had been more basic, burgers and pizza and Chinese and one nice French restaurant. But every time he came home there seemed to be a new café or restaurant. And the food was getting trendy. “And we’re not going to starve if he burns them. Hell, we can go to a bar and get a burger if we need to.”

  Eli nodded, though the movement was half-hearted to Zach’s eye. “Maybe.” He rolled a shoulder, and a muscle tightened in his jaw.

  Zach frowned. Was Eli in pain?

  He was supposed to be recuperating. Zach took that to mean resting. But if Eli and Billy had been sailing half the day then that hadn’t happened.

  “How’s the arm?” he asked and picked up the tray with all the salads before Eli could attempt to carry that and the steaks.

  “Fine. Thanks, Mom,” Eli said sarcastically as Billy yelled “Beeeeeffffffffff!” from beyond the door.

  “A guy is allowed to ask how his best friend is feeling when said best friend is a klutz who manages to smash himself up a little too often.”

  “Three times isn’t often. Besides, the first time wasn’t my fault.”

  True. That had been Billy. Who made a bet with the boys that they couldn’t climb the massive oak tree that dominated half the lawn to the side of the house. The same tree that Zach could see in the distance now.

  It hadn’t grown any smaller and it had already been a monster when they’d tried to climb it. Apparently Billy’s skills hadn’t stretched much to judging the climbability of trees. Or knowing that ten-year-olds couldn’t defy gravity. That had been the first time Zach had seen Eli snap a bone. Not his favorite memory. Not the scream as Eli had slipped off the branch they’d been balanced on, or the sickening thump as he’d hit the ground, or the sickly white of his face when Zach had finally gotten down to him. Or the quiet fury on Nina’s fac
e as she’d come running out onto the lawn to see what had happened as Billy had carried Eli back toward the house.

  “The second time wasn’t either,” Eli mused. “Someone skied into me, not the other way around.”

  He’d fractured a cheekbone and a few ribs and sprained an ankle in that collision if Zach remembered correctly. That had been the year they’d both turned twenty. Eli had spent Zach’s birthday in bandages.

  “Maybe not, but you’d think a guy with your history might not think a motorbike is a good idea.”

  “You owned a bike long before I did.”

  “Stopped riding it too,” Zach said. “Once I realized how easy it would be to kill myself on it.” He slid the door to the patio open and waved for Eli to go in front of him. “But you don’t seem to have learned that lesson yet. So I get to keep asking you dumb questions.”

  “What dumb questions?” Billy asked, blue eyes lighting as he saw the steaks in Eli’s hand.

  “Zach was asking if he could have his steak rare,” Eli said, grinning at his dad. “I’ve been telling him that your prowess with this contraption means that it’s pot luck around here.”

  “Oh ye of little faith,” Billy said. He slapped the steaks on to the grills with a grin that matched his son’s. “I am the grill-meister.”

  “Okay, but if you’re the grill-meister then you’re also an alien who replaced my dad last night. Because last night, the steaks my real dad cooked were mostly charcoal.”

  “No one ever said I was a slow learner,” Billy said. “I’ve got this now.” He waved an arm at the table. “You boys sit and watch and learn. Zach, you want a beer?”

  Zach shook his head. “Thanks, I’m good.”

  Billy frowned. “You saying that because you don’t want one or because you’re trying to spare my feelings?”

  “I’m good,” Zach repeated. Eli was still taking painkillers. Billy was a recovering alcoholic. Zach didn’t need a beer. He didn’t drink much these days anyway. Didn’t like the way it messed with his playing if he got loaded. Damned if he knew how all those legendary musicians with equally legendary drug and alcohol problems managed to perform every night. Grey had pulled it off, but he wasn’t here to ask any more. And he definitely wasn’t going to ask Billy.