A Montana Christmas Reunion. Roz Denny Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ uneasy, she flipped up her jacket collar to hide her burning face. Why was Saxon doing this? He hadn’t held her in years. He hadn’t called or tried to contact her. And she was quite sure he hadn’t been a monk since they’d parted.

      Relief washed over her when the song ended—enough for her to actually relax as Saxon announced that he would sing his latest hit next.

      Concertgoers clapped and shouted. Some whistled catcalls. But Saxon had barely run a thumb over his guitar’s strings when the man who’d first introduced him burst onstage through the back curtains. Grabbing the microphone, he said, “I’m sorry to tell you all, but the hurricane has reportedly made landfall, bringing bands of heavy rain. We need to cancel the rest of the show. As we told each of you at the outset, Saxon and his band appreciate how so many of you ventured out given the unsettled predictions for Althea. Unfortunately, we hear many streets are flooding, which has taken officials by surprise. I spoke with local authorities, who suggest you go home if you live nearby or seek accommodations in this city for tonight. Local motels will offer discounts if you show them your concert ticket stub. Everyone, please take care. And we’re sorry. Staff will give each of you a free CD at the door.”

      Behind her, Jewell heard gasps and the sound of feet retreating up the aisles. She stood, intending to follow. Donovan leaped up to talk to another man. Suddenly he glanced around and beckoned her.

      “Please remember to give Saxon the letter. Tell him I enjoyed the show but I have to go.”

      The man blocked her exit. “Saxon is waiting for you backstage.”

      “You don’t understand. I need to see about a room, because it sounded as if I’d be foolish to try and drive back to my hotel in DC until this storm passes.”

      “Watching the stampede of folks out of here, you’d be wise to let someone on Saxon’s team secure accommodations for you.” Then without waiting for her to agree or object, he clasped her upper arm and all but dragged her through a set of black velvet curtains near the stage. Saxon’s band had already cleared out with their instruments.

      He stood in a hallway gesturing and talking to a couple of those same band members. Donovan whisked her along, barely letting her boots touch the floor. He didn’t stop until her shoulder jostled Saxon’s upper arm. “One lady friend delivered as ordered,” the man announced.

      It didn’t surprise her to hear Saxon huff out an exasperated-sounding, “She’s an old friend, not some item I ordered off a menu.” As if to make a point, he swept her up and swung her around until excitement built inside Jewell like it had when they used to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair. Then he unceremoniously plopped her down and went on talking to a young man holding a guitar.

      Her stomach had yet to settle when Saxon again skewered Donovan with a glance. “Speaking of menu, I’m starved. Ask Carson to see if he can scare up a decent meal for two and deliver it to my bus before this town drops its shutters?”

      “I can’t stay, Saxon. I need to call around and find a room,” Jewell said.

      Her comment had Saxon frowning down at her.

      The last band members moved on out a back door. When it opened, Jewell felt a damp wind whish along the hall. Courtesy of an outside light above that same door, she noticed rain flying in circles. “The weather is definitely worse. I wonder how far away hotels or motels are.”

      Donovan acknowledged Saxon’s request for food. Then he, too, rushed out, calling loudly to the absent Carson. Suddenly she and Saxon were the only ones left in a theater where the few lights still burning began going dark one at a time.

      His arm tightened around her waist. “Damn, it’s really you! Believe it or not, you come to mind so often I first thought I imagined you standing in line. I’m sorry I didn’t have a minute before the show to do more than have Donovan find you a seat. This is only the second time we’ve had to shorten a show due to weather. However, our booking agent is responsible for battening down the hatches, so to speak. Come, we’ll have a drink, wait for the food and catch up in my bus. It’s parked out back.”

      Anchoring Jewell more firmly to his side, he moved them along the almost dark hall to shove open a door that seemed to stick. Once they emerged, driving rain and a battering wind jammed Jewell’s protest down her throat. “Seriously, Saxon. I’m not kidding about needing to locate a room.”

      Hunching his larger body around her, Saxon made a hard left turn and plowed on through fat raindrops striking them from all sides.

      As the wind robbed her ability to speak, Jewell was unable to object when Saxon keyed some numbers into a pad near the front of a big, dark bus, then opened a door where steps magically appeared. She blinked water from her eyelashes after he rushed them in out of what was definitely deteriorating weather.

      Saxon flipped switches until light fell from a series of wall sconces. That gave Jewell time to gather her jumbled senses enough to examine the interior of a vehicle that for all the world looked like a luxury apartment.

      He dashed off, leaving her standing behind plush driver and passenger seats. She dripped on real tile that served as a foyer to a living room outfitted with thick beige-colored carpet. Saxon reappeared with two towels, one of which he offered her.

      She set her handbag and the now-soaked free T-shirt on a side table and blotted her face and hair with the terrycloth towel. The hem of her shirt not covered by her jacket was also soaked. The hand towels wouldn’t do much to dry either of them.

      “Saxon, I would love to have time to share a meal, but considering the number of people at the theater who’ll be stuck in town, I really need to find accommodations. My hotel is in the heart of DC. I intended to return there after your show, but now that’s out of the question.” Wadding the towel, she clutched it nervously in front of her.

      “Are you afraid of me?” Saxon abruptly asked.

      “What? No!”

      “It looks like it from the way you’re holding that towel like a shield.”

      Jewell scowled at the object and quickly relaxed her arms. “Here.” She tried to pass the towel back. “Donovan said you’d have an assistant find someplace for me to spend the night. Is there someone who’ll do that?”

      A sharp rap at the door kept Saxon from taking the towel or responding. Before he reached the door, it flew open. A man dressed in a clear slicker gestured to Saxon by holding up two square takeout boxes. “I hope you guys like lasagna. The only restaurant open was an Italian place. Even they were closing up. And Donovan said your friend needed a room. I’m sorry, Sax, but two of us phoned around and couldn’t find even an empty broom closet.”

      Saxon handed Jewell his wet towel so he could accept the boxes from the poor dripping fellow. “Uh, thanks, Carson. Were you able to buy enough to feed you guys and the band?”

      “Yeah, the restaurant owner was happy to have me take all remaining pizzas off his hands. If this is all you need, boss, I’d like to get back before the others demolish it.”

      “By all means. And double thanks for braving the weather.”

      The response was muffled as the other man shut the door with a loud bang that made Jewell jump.

      Facing Jewell again, Saxon shrugged. “You heard him. Maybe the storm will pass quickly. I’m sure you heard me say earlier that I’m starved. Unless you’re СКАЧАТЬ